Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 26, 2025
"Do you carry them by the dozen ?" "Into innocent British homes?" Maud tried to remember. "I believe I brought three seeing them in a shop-window as I passed through town. It never rains but it pours! But I've already read two." "And are they the only ones you do read?" "French ones?" Maud considered. "Oh no. D'Annunzio." "And what's that?" Mrs. Dyott asked as she affixed a stamp.
But there was a spirit abroad in Italy that would not be appeased with "compensations": the poet had the following of all "young Italy." D'Annunzio came to Rome. Not at once.
All this, yes, but not "riff-raff," not anarchist, nor mafia, nor apache. Nothing of that did I see those days and nights. The greeting to D'Annunzio was made by men of the professional and intellectual classes I should say, having wormed my way in and out of that vast piazza gathering.
As it is, the background and mass-movements must stand as monumental achievements in vital patriotic splendor. D'Annunzio is Griffith's most inspired rival in these things. He lacks Griffith's knowledge of what is photoplay and what is not. He lacks Griffith's simplicity of hurdle-race plot. He lacks his avalanche-like action. The Italian needs the American's health and clean winds.
Upton said of d'Annunzio, standing with a volume in her hand in the clear afternoon light. "True to him," Jack amended, alert for the displayal of his own comprehension. "I can't think it. Life is always, for everybody, so much more commonplace than he dares make it.
What did matter was that they should say amusing things, things as flattering as possible to national vanity. Foreigners had to put up with a good deal with the exception of the idol of the hour: for there was always a fashionable idol: Grieg, or Wagner, or Nietzsche, or Gorki, or D'Annunzio. It never lasted long, and the idol was certain one fine morning to be thrown on to the rubbish-heap.
We will read Sorel together he is beautiful, like poetry and the great poets, Dante and Petrarch and Tasso yes, and d'Annunzio. We shall live." "We are living, now," she answered. The look with which she surveyed him he found enigmatic. And then, abruptly, she rose and went to her typewriter. "You don't believe what I say!" he reproached her. But she was cool.
And still the question remains: how much of this success is due to the playwright's skill or to the skill of the actors? How is it that in this play the actors obtain a fine result, act on a higher level, than in their realistic Sicilian tragedies? D'Annunzio is no doubt a better writer than Capuana or Verga, and his play is finer as literature than "Cavalleria Rusticana" or "Malia."
'But you know D'Annunzio is a poet oh, beautiful, beautiful! There was no going beyond this 'bello bellissimo'. It was the language which did it. It was the Italian passion for rhetoric, for the speech which appeals to the senses and makes no demand on the mind. When an Englishman listens to a speech he wants at least to imagine that he understands thoroughly and impersonally what is meant.
The acting, by the Sicilian actors, of "La Figlia di Jorio," seemed to me to do something towards the solution of part at least of this problem. The play, as one reads it, has perhaps less than usual of the beauty which d'Annunzio elaborates in his dramatic speech.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking