United States or Saint Helena, Ascension, and Tristan da Cunha ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
When I wrote to Madame Duse the other day to ask her permission to publish this much-prized letter, she answered: BUENOS AYRES, Septembre 11, 1907. "Chère Ellen Terry, "Au milieu du travail en Amérique, je reçois votre lettre envoyée
I've read of her triumphs, too. She was out in Melbourne two years or more ago and carried the town by storm." "That is a fact." "Duse take it, d'ye know what I've half a mind to do?" "What's that, Sir Lionel?" asks John, with a very sober face, but secretly chuckling at the success that is meeting him half-way. Why, he has hardly dug his pit before the baronet comes tumbling into it.
Eleanora Duse at the present moment is probably accepted as the greatest living player of the world. Of late years she has, to some extent, used make-up, but with great moderation.
You've never heard the wailing music in that woman's voice when she says: "There is no escape, Smaragdi. You have said it; The shadow is a glass to me, and God Lets me be lost." I gave them Duse just to show them how swell I was myself; which shows what a ninny I was. The thing the world loves is the opposite of what it is. The pat-pat-pat of their gloves came in to me when I got through.
In the meantime, Monsieur de Breuilly was watching us from a distance, with an extraordinary countenance. I could see his little gray eyes sparkling like glowing ashes; he was laughing loud, grinning, stamping, and fairly disjointing his fingers with sinister cracks. Monsieur de Malouet came suddenly to me, handed me a whist card, and taking me aside: "What the duse has got into you?" he said.
And Duse seems to acquire a new subtlety, as she speaks at last words in themselves worthy of her speaking. It is as if she at last spoke her own language. Dumas fils has put his best work into the novel of "La Dame aux Camélias," which is a kind of slighter, more superficial, more sentimental, more modern, but less universal "Manon Lescaut."
We have seen Italian players of ability representing English characters, and, putting aside Duse, the obvious and correct criticism was that they were very funny and quite incorrect in their exuberance of gesture. Irving is the only actor whom he discusses; Ellen Terry the one English actress. This, of course, is absurd.
But Duse has no resources outside simple human nature. If she cannot convince you by the thing in itself, she cannot disconcert you by a paradox about it.
It is not likely that when Madame de Navarro pronounced that estimate she was forgetting either Miss Terry or Mrs. Campbell or Mesdames Rejane and Bernhardt or Signora Duse. Madame de Navarro is no mean judge: and those who have read Miss Morris's wonderful book, Life on the Stage, will think the judgment in this case not incredible. Similarly I believe that in Mr.
I have just seen the Italian actress Duse in Shakespeare's Cleopatra. I don't know Italian, but she acted so well that it seemed to me I understood every word. A remarkable actress! I have never seen anything like it before.
Word Of The Day