the colour of life-第5章

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Between　the　pasture　and　the　wave；　the　many　miles　of　rushes　and　reeds

in　England　seem　to　escape　that　insistent　ownership　which　has　so

changed　（except　for　a　few　forests　and　downs）　the　aspect　of　England；

and　has　in　fact　made　the　landscape。　　Cultivation　makes　the　landscape

elsewhere；　rather　than　ownership；　for　the　boundaries　in　the　south

are　not　conspicuous；　but　here　it　is　ownership。　　But　the　rushes　are　a

gipsy　people；　amongst　us；　yet　out　of　reach。　　The　landowner；　if　he　is

rather　a　gross　man；　believes　these　races　of　reeds　are　his。　　But　if

he　is　a　man　of　sensibility；　depend　upon　it　he　has　his　interior

doubts。　　His　property；　he　says；　goes　right　down　to　the　centre　of　the

earth；　in　the　shape　of　a　wedge；　how　high　up　it　goes　into　the　air　it

would　be　difficult　to　say；　and　obviously　the　shape　of　the　wedge　must

be　continued　in　the　direction　of　increase。　　We　may　therefore

proclaim　his　right　to　the　clouds　and　their　cargo。　　It　is　true　that

as　his　ground　game　is　apt　to　go　upon　his　neighbour's　land　to　be

shot；　so　the　clouds　may　now　and　then　spend　his　showers　elsewhere。

But　the　great　thing　is　the　view。　　A　well…appointed　country…house

sees　nothing　out　of　the　windows　that　is　not　its　own。　　But　he　who

tells　you　so；　and　proves　it　to　you　by　his　own　view；　is　certainly

disturbed　by　an　unspoken　doubt；　if　his　otherwise　contented　eyes

should　happen　to　be　caught　by　a　region　of　rushes。　　The　water　is　his

…　he　had　the　pond　made；　or　the　river；　for　a　space；　and　the　fish；　for

a　time。　　But　the　bulrushes；　the　reeds！　　One　wonders　whether　a　very

thorough　landowner；　but　a　sensitive　one；　ever　resolved　that　he　would

endure　this　sort　of　thing　no　longer；　and　went　out　armed　and　had　a

long　acre　of　sedges　scythed　to　death。



They　are　probably　outlaws。　　They　are　dwellers　upon　thresholds　and

upon　margins；　as　the　gipsies　make　a　home　upon　the　green　edges　of　a

road。　　No　wild　flowers；　however　wild；　are　rebels。　　The　copses　and

their　primroses　are　good　subjects；　the　oaks　are　loyal。　　Now　and

then；　though；　one　has　a　kind　of　suspicion　of　some　of　the　other　kinds

of　trees　…　the　Corot　trees。　　Standing　at　a　distance　from　the　more

ornamental　trees；　from　those　of　fuller　foliage；　and　from　all　the

indeciduous　shrubs　and　the　conifers　（manifest　property；　every　one）；

two　or　three　translucent　aspens；　with　which　the　very　sun　and　the

breath　of　earth　are　entangled；　have　sometimes　seemed　to　wear　a

certain　look　…　an　extra…territorial　look；　let　us　call　it。　　They　are

suspect。　　One　is　inclined　to　shake　a　doubtful　head　at　them。



And　the　landowner　feels　it。　　He　knows　quite　well；　though　he　may　not

say　so；　that　the　Corot　trees；　though　they　do　not　dwell　upon　margins；

are　in　spirit　almost　as　extraterritorial　as　the　rushes。　　In　proof　of

this　he　very　often　cuts　them　down；　out　of　the　view；　once　for　all。

The　view　is　better；　as　a　view；　without　them。　　Though　their　roots　are

in　his　ground　right　enough；　there　is　a　something　about　their　heads　…

。　　But　the　reason　he　gives　for　wishing　them　away　is　merely　that　they

are　〃thin。〃　　A　man　does　not　always　say　everything。







ELEONORA　DUSE







The　Italian　woman　is　very　near　to　Nature；　so　is　true　drama。



Acting　is　not　to　be　judged　like　some　other　of　the　arts；　and　praised

for　a　〃noble　convention。〃　　Painting；　indeed；　is　not　praised　amiss

with　that　word；　painting　is　obviously　an　art　that　exists　by　its

convention　…　the　convention　is　the　art。　　But　far　otherwise　is　it

with　the　art　of　acting；　where　there　is　no　representative　material；

where；　that　is；　the　man　is　his　own　material；　and　there　is　nothing

between。　　With　the　actor　the　style　is　the　man；　in　another；　a　more

immediate；　and　a　more　obvious　sense　than　was　ever　intended　by　that

saying。　　Therefore　we　may　allow　the　critic　…　and　not　accuse　him　of

reaction　…　to　speak　of　the　division　between　art　and　Nature　in　the

painting　of　a　landscape；　but　we　cannot　let　him　say　the　same　things

of　acting。　　Acting　has　a　technique；　but　no　convention。



Once　for　all；　then；　to　say　that　acting　reaches　the　point　of　Nature；

and　touches　it　quick；　is　to　say　all。　　In　other　arts　imitation　is

more　or　less　fatuous；　illusion　more　or　less　vulgar。　　But　acting　is；

at　its　less　good；　imitation；　at　its　best；　illusion；　at　its　worst；

and　when　it　ceases　to　be　an　art；　convention。



But　the　idea　that　acting　is　conventional　has　inevitably　come　about

in　England。　　For　it　is；　in　fact；　obliged；　with　us；　to　defeat　and

destroy　itself　by　taking　a　very　full；　entire；　tedious；　and　impotent

convention；　a　complete　body　of　convention；　a　convention　of

demonstrativeness　…　of　voice　and　manners　intended　to　be　expressive；

and；　in　particular；　a　whole　weak　and　unimpulsive　convention　of

gesture。　　The　English　manners　of　real　life　are　so　negative　and　still

as　to　present　no　visible　or　audible　drama；　and　drama　is　for　hearing

and　for　vision。　　Therefore　our　acting　（granting　that　we　have　any

acting；　which　is　granting　much）　has　to　create　its　little　different

and　complementary　world；　and　to　make　the　division　of　〃art〃　from

Nature　…　the　division　which；　in　this　one　art；　is　fatal。



This　is　one　simple　and　sufficient　reason　why　we　have　no　considerable

acting；　though　we　may　have　more　or　less　interesting　and　energetic　or

graceful　conventions　that　pass　for　art。　　But　any　student　of

international　character　knows　well　enough　that　there　are　also

supplementary　reasons　of　weight。　　For　example；　it　is　bad　to　make　a

conventional　world　of　the　stage；　but　it　is　doubly　bad　to　make　it

badly　…　which；　it　must　be　granted；　we　do。　　When　we　are　anything　of

the　kind；　we　are　intellectual　rather　than　intelligent；　whereas

outward…streaming　intelligence　makes　the　actor。　　We　are　pre…

occupied；　and　therefore　never　single；　never　wholly　possessed　by　the

one　thing　at　a　time；　and　so　forth。



On　the　other　hand；　Italians　are　expressive。　　They　are　so　possessed

by　the　one　thing　at　a　time　as　never　to　be　habitual　in　any　lifeless

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