The occasion is a celebration of the memory of Gustavo
Modena, whose statue has recently been set up in the




Photogyath by



TOMMASO SALVrNI



ITALIAN PLAYERS 201

Giardini of Venice. It appears that this Gustavo Modena
was a very distinguished actor ; a power ; a man with ideals
for remodelling the stage; and, lastly, and to conclude,
was the maestro of Tommaso Salvini. And Gustavo
Modena was as much greater than Tommaso Salvini
(according to Salvini, who was born, Signore and Signori,
on such a day, and the range of whose experience is a little
beyond the common) as Tommaso Salvini is (according
to certain critics of the day) than . . . ; but no one dare
put a name beside him, so we go on deteriorating;
and the marvel only is that in this our day anyone is so
presvmiptuous as to act, or any so fatuous as to go to the
theatre. All this, besides being current and indubitable
fact, is the theme of the discourse ; adorned with much
sound advice and many wise opinions. As, how foolish
it is for the second-rate actor to fancy that he can make
himself great by making himself conspicuous. How a
man could only become a great actor by learning to forget
himself. How actors of the lecturer's day came back,
preening themselves, fresh from the salvos of applause ;
and were riddled with contemptuous pity by the wiser
ones, who knew that to please the crowd is to be of the
crowd. And how the sorry attempt of the modern actor
to wear Nature as a cloak for his idleness and incapacity,
is bound to end in exposure and shame. And then his
voice ringing out, and his eyes flashing — in spite of his
two-and-eighty years — he leads us up to the altar of
the stage and bids us bow down before the images of
her high mission, her moral influence, her lofty and
educating power.
