第 7 节
作者:老山文学      更新:2021-02-20 04:46      字数:9322
  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
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  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。
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  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
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  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。
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  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 Divo