the colour of life(生命之色)-第8节
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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
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THE COLOUR OF LIFE
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。
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THE COLOUR OF LIFE
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
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THE COLOUR OF LIFE
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 did sleep。 These men were strong men； and knew what they wanted。
It is tremendous to watch the struggle of such resolves。 They had their
purpose in their grasp； their teeth were set； their will was iron。 They
were foot to foot。
And next morning you saw by the papers that the secondary； but still
renowned； actor； had succeeded in sharing
