United States or Netherlands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
That's an illustration of the general change that comes to pass in us as we grow older, if we have ever loved the stage: the fading of the glamour and the mystery that surround it. Auberon. Do you call it a minor sorrow? It's one of the greatest. And nothing can mitigate it. Amicia. Wouldn't it be mitigated a little if the stage were a trifle better? You must remember how that has changed.
"Come home to tea," Florentia said to certain friends who had stopped to speak to her in the lobby of the little theatre in Soho they had been present at a day performance by the company of the Theatre Libre, transferred for a week from Paris; and three of these Auberon and Dorriforth, accompanying Amicia turned up so expeditiously that the change of scene had the effect of being neatly executed.
There's such a diversity in our idea of amusement. Auberon. Don't you impute to people more ideas than they have? Dorriforth. Ah, one must do that or one couldn't talk about them. We go to be interested; to be absorbed, beguiled and to lose ourselves, to give ourselves up, in short, to a charm. Florentia. And the charm is the strange, the extraordinary. Amicia. Ah, speak for yourself!
The charm is the recognition of what we know, what we feel. Dorriforth. See already how you differ. What we surrender ourselves to is the touch of nature, the sense of life. Amicia. The first thing is to believe. Florentia. The first thing, on the contrary, is to disbelieve. Auberon. Lord, listen to them! Dorriforth. The first thing is to folio to care. Florentia.
Precious that must be to the sincere spirits on the stage who are conscious of all the other things formidable things that rise against them. Amicia. What other things do you mean? Dorriforth.
The theatre consists of two things, que diable of the stage and the drama, and I don't see how you can have it unless you have both, or how you can have either unless you have the other. They are the two blades of a pair of scissors. Auberon. You are very unfair to native talent. There are lots of strictly original plays Amicia. Yes, they put that expression on the posters. Auberon.
It is when he betrays us, after he has got us in and locked the door, when he can't keep from us that we are in a bare little hole and that there are no pictures on the walls, it is then that the immediate and the foolish overwhelm us. Amicia. That's what I liked in the piece we have been looking at.
Gracious, what you see in things! Don't you suppose they were paid? Amicia. I know nothing about it. I liked their shabbiness they had only what was indispensable in the way of dress and scenery. That often pleases me: the imagination, in certain cases, is more finely persuaded by the little than by the much. Dorriforth. I see what Amicia means. Florentia.
There was an artistic intention, and the little room wasn't bare: there was sociable company in it. The actors were very humble aspirants, they were common Auberon. Ah, when the French give their mind to that ! Amicia. They had the air, poor things, of working for love. Auberon. For love of what? Amicia. Of the whole little enterprise the idea of the Théâtre Libre. Florentia.
The public have been taught to consider it so: the clever machinery has ended by operating as a bribe and a blind. Their sense of the rest of the matter has gone to the dogs, as you may perceive when you hear a couple of occupants of the stalls talking, in a tone that excites your curiosity, about a performance that's "splendid." Amicia. Do you ever hear the occupants of the stalls talking?
Word Of The Day