into another atmosphere, as if seen in a mirror, in which all its
outlines become more gracious. The pleasure which we get from seeing her
as Francesca or as Marguerite Gautier is doubled by that other pleasure,
never completely out of our minds, that she is also Sarah Bernhardt. One
sometimes forgets that Réjane is acting at all; it is the real woman of
the part, Sapho, or Zaza, or Yanetta, who lives before us. Also one
sometimes forgets that Duse is acting, that she is even pretending to be
Magda or Silvia; it is Duse herself who lives there, on the stage. But
Sarah Bernhardt is always the actress as well as the part; when she is
at her best, she is both equally, and our consciousness of the one does
not disturb our possession by the other. When she is not at her best, we
see only the actress, the incomparable craftswoman openly labouring at
her work.




COQUELIN AND MOLIÈRE: SOME ASPECTS


To see Coquelin in Molière is to see the greatest of comic actors at his
best, and to realise that here is not a temperament, or a student, or
anything apart from the art of the actor. His art may be compared with
that of Sarah Bernhardt for its infinite care in the training of nature.
They have an equal perfection, but it may be said that Coquelin, with
his ripe, mellow art, his passion of humour, his touching vehemence,
makes himself seem less a divine machine, more a delightfully faulty
person. His voice is firm, sonorous, flexible, a human, expressive,
amusing voice, not the elaborate musical instrument of Sarah, which
seems to go by itself, câline, cooing, lamenting, raging, or in that