It will be remembered that Stevenson remained satisfied with this, which might be regarded as the costumier’s work of the model theatre, but we were more ambitious. Our first theatre was a small packing-case without any sides, and in this our characters, mounted on cardboard and supplied with firewood supports, were quite contented3 to display their red legs and green bodies. Our scenery was indicated rather than drawn4 on brown paper with coloured chalks, and would, I think, have pleased Mr. Gordon Craig. Two Christmas-tree candles served for footlights, and, though we had no book of the words, we made them up as we went along, and did very well. It was strange how great a measure of illusion we achieved, although we ourselves moved the puppets and spoke5 their lines. The candles threw queer shadows across our faces, and it seemed as though deeper voices than ours echoed in the room. We were always being p. 43astonished by the eerie6 products of our own imagination when we were merely trying to amuse ourselves; and the effect of our dramatic efforts was quite remote from anything that we had intended. I understand that older dramatists sometimes experience the same phenomenon.
Our activities could not long escape the criticism of the grown-up people; but rather to our surprise, for candles were quite illicit7 playthings, they contented themselves with a general caution as to the perils8 of fire, and a particular injunction concerning the dropping of candle-grease on the tablecloth9. So we played with our theatre till Christmas, by which time the members of our stock company were more than a little battered10 and weary at the knees. Then there came a surprise. Included in the number of our presents were a little theatre with a real curtain that went up and down, and materials for three complete productions. This time we had not only the characters, but the books of words and scenery as well, and we prepared to do things on an unprecedented11 scale. As a result, after p. 44extraordinary labour in the scenic12 and costume departments, we were able to produce, on three successive nights, “Paul Clifford,” “The Corsican Brothers,” and “The Miller13 and his Men.” The repertory theatre was fairly under way.
First-nights were really thrilling in those days. The dignified14 deportment of our actors, as yet unspoiled by success, roused the audience to enthusiasm, and we did not weary of admiring simple stage effects that would have moved us to scornful laughter in after-days. Yet even in these early productions there lurked15 the seeds of artistic16 disruption. Already our appreciation17 of the gallant18 bearing of Paul Clifford passed all reasonable bounds, and threatened to develop into that hero-worship that proves fatal to the talents of any actor. Already we had an unwholesome craving19 for excessive realism in the staging of plays, and we made use of the ingenuity20 of our elders to drive Grindoff’s sinister21 windmill in the first act of “The Miller and his Men.” It might be said that our theatre, qua repertory theatre, was doomed22 from the start.
p. 45Nevertheless, at least two seasons of good work were accomplished23 before our morbid24 imitation of Nature and the illimitable egotism of Paul Clifford finally succeeded in driving art from the stage. During that period we produced about fifteen new plays, and gave a large number of one-night revivals25. Our repertory ranged from “Hamlet” to “Dick Whittington,” and I think one pleased us as much as the other. This would have been more remarkable26 if Paul Clifford had not played the title-part in both plays. We had soon come to prefer him to any other of the heroes, and in consequence, whatever the play might be, he was bound to be there in his riding-boots and handsome yellow satin coat. This would have been well enough if he had been willing to keep his place, but he soon became as ubiquitous as an actor-manager. Owing to the number of r?les that he was called upon to fill, we had his pasteboard presentment in a hundred different attitudes, and on one occasion when a stage-crowd was required it was entirely27 composed of Paul Cliffords, and even then there were rows of p. 46forlorn Paul Cliffords in the wings for whom there was no room on the stage. This was the beginning of the end. We suffered from the worst excesses of the star system; we began to be discontented when Paul was not on the stage, and we were prepared to boo if that dashing highwayman was not permitted to bluster28 across the most subtle dramas.
About this time we deserted29 the old theatre that had been the scene of so many triumphs for a larger and far more elaborate one. We had long had gas footlights, but now our system of lighting30 was intricate enough to suit Mr. Arthur Collins. Indeed, when, years afterwards, I was allowed to explore the stage of Drury Lane, I found nothing to surprise me, save, perhaps, the electric switchboard, with its pretty display of diminutive31 electric lights. Our scenic sensations were only surpassed by those of Mr. Bruce Smith. When we played a dramatisation of “Hard Cash,” the scuttled32 vessel33 sank in a sea of real water. The fountains in our Garden of Enchantment34 flung scented35 torrents36 into their moss-clad basins; and p. 47when we sought to reproduce a burning house we succeeded in setting the theatre on fire.
It will be understood that by that time we had come to rely on the grown-up people for assistance in producing plays, and we had substituted their perverted37 adult taste for our juvenile38 conceptions of drama. The old plays, with their homely39 characters and dignified simplicity40 of setting, no longer pleased us. We craved41 for a debauch42 of Paul Clifford, and every new production had to be more elaborate in its insentient mimicry43 of life than the one before. The inevitable44 happened. The more our stage-setting approximated to Nature, and the more Paul pirouetted in the limelight, the less we attained45 to that illusion which had been so easy to achieve on a packing-case stage with two little coloured candles for footlights. There came a day when Paul no longer interested us, and we felt that we had exhausted46 the possibilities of the sensational47. The theatre was closed, and when, many months afterwards, a vague curiosity led us to ask what had become of it, we p. 48learnt with but little regret that our elders had given it away to some little boy whose taste in drama was as yet unsophisticated. I wonder what he made of our real sea and our practicable fountains!
Not very long ago I was turning over some old books, when a small piece of cardboard slipped from between the pages and fell to the ground. It was in the likeness48 of a man, a man dressed in riding-boots and yellow satin; yet it was some moments before I realised that I was in the presence of the once great Paul Clifford. With recognition came something like remorse49. It was no more than just to forgive his faults after so many years, and he really was a very good actor until an excess of praise turned his little pasteboard head.
I looked round the library, and after due consideration took a volume of the Laureate’s poems from the shelves, and laid the tired highwayman to rest between its pages.
“Sleep on, brave Paul!” I said softly. “No one will ever disturb you there.”
And now I have written his epitaph.
点击收听单词发音
1 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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2 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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3 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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4 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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5 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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6 eerie | |
adj.怪诞的;奇异的;可怕的;胆怯的 | |
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7 illicit | |
adj.非法的,禁止的,不正当的 | |
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8 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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9 tablecloth | |
n.桌布,台布 | |
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10 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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11 unprecedented | |
adj.无前例的,新奇的 | |
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12 scenic | |
adj.自然景色的,景色优美的 | |
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13 miller | |
n.磨坊主 | |
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14 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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15 lurked | |
vi.潜伏,埋伏(lurk的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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16 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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17 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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18 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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19 craving | |
n.渴望,热望 | |
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20 ingenuity | |
n.别出心裁;善于发明创造 | |
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21 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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22 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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23 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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24 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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25 revivals | |
n.复活( revival的名词复数 );再生;复兴;(老戏多年后)重新上演 | |
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26 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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27 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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28 bluster | |
v.猛刮;怒冲冲的说;n.吓唬,怒号;狂风声 | |
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29 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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30 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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31 diminutive | |
adj.小巧可爱的,小的 | |
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32 scuttled | |
v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 );快跑,急走 | |
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33 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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34 enchantment | |
n.迷惑,妖术,魅力 | |
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35 scented | |
adj.有香味的;洒香水的;有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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36 torrents | |
n.倾注;奔流( torrent的名词复数 );急流;爆发;连续不断 | |
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37 perverted | |
adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 );腐蚀;败坏;使堕落 | |
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38 juvenile | |
n.青少年,少年读物;adj.青少年的,幼稚的 | |
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39 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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40 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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41 craved | |
渴望,热望( crave的过去式 ); 恳求,请求 | |
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42 debauch | |
v.使堕落,放纵 | |
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43 mimicry | |
n.(生物)拟态,模仿 | |
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44 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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45 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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46 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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47 sensational | |
adj.使人感动的,非常好的,轰动的,耸人听闻的 | |
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48 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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49 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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