Chapter 25 Kasuga Stage Monologue

Kasuga Stage Monologue early morning.A young gray tom with a deep claw mark on its nose appeared on the roof outside the skylight.It squinted its eyes contemptuously for a moment, and then said: "Before you stands a most happiest creature! O love! Ah, the beauty of the day!Ah, when I'm old I'll be thrown by the tail in the cesspit, but even then I'll never forget that first encounter by an overturned barrel, and her narrow The look in her pupils, her velvety tail!As long as that elegant tail, which is rare in the world, shakes, I am willing to give up the whole world!But...why should I tell you this?You will never understand cats, nor high school students, nor spinsters.You mortals are too shallow to look at cat happiness calmly.You will smile enviously and reproach me for my happiness: "It's only a cat's happiness!" It will never occur to any of you to ask what it costs us to be happy. Let me tell you Let’s talk about how much effort it takes to obtain happiness for cats! You will find that in pursuit of happiness, cats struggle, take risks, and endure far more than humans! Listen. . . . Usually, at nine o’clock in the evening, our The cook brought out the slop. I followed her and ran across the yard by stepping on the puddles. The cat was not in the habit of wearing rain boots, so whether he wanted to or not, he had to forget his aversion to damp all night. When we reached the yard At the end I jumped on the wall, and walked cautiously along the top of it, while below the wall a setter, my worst enemy, stared at me gleefully, hoping that sooner or later I would fall off the wall, so that I It bit me all the way. Then I jumped hard and walked on the roof of the shed. There I climbed the drain pipe of a tall house and walked along the narrow and slippery eaves. From the eaves I jump up to a neighboring house. On this roof I routinely meet my rivals. Ah, gentlemen, if you knew how many claw marks and bumps I hide in my fur, your hair would Standing up one by one! Last year I almost got scratched in the eye, and the day before yesterday my rivals pushed me off the second floor. But, let’s stop talking, let’s get back to the book. I started singing. In Musically, we cats are theorists, following a new school of which we consider ourselves the originators: not seeking melody, but singing loud and long. Residents are poor theoreticians, therefore, No wonder they did not understand our singing, threw stones and irons at us, poured dirty water on us, and sent dogs to bite us.

I'd have to sing for three hours, sometimes longer, until the wind finally brought that soft, beckoning 'Mimi' to my ears.As soon as I heard this call, I was as anxious as lightning, and rushed forward to meet her. ... Our female cats, especially those in the tea shop, are of good character.However much they loved a tom, they would never commit themselves to him without protesting.A male cat must possess indomitable spirit and strength of will to be victorious.She hisses, scratches your nose, and narrows her eyes coquettishly. Whenever your rival wants to beat you up in her presence, she whines, moves her tentacles, and runs away from you, along the roofs and along the top of the fence.Then there is chaos and chaos, so that the beautiful scenery of the good time will not come until four or five o'clock in the morning as usual.

"Now you can see how hard it took me to be happy." The tom cat raised its tail and walked away dignifiedly. critic An old, stooped "noble father," with a crooked chin and a purple nose, met an old journalist friend in the catering department of a private theatre.They exchanged pleasantries, questions, and sighs as usual, and then the noble father invited the journalist to have a small glass of wine. "Why bother?" said the journalist, frowning. "Nothing, let's go for a drink. I'm not a drinker myself, man, but we guys get a discount on drinks in this place, almost half price, so you can drink if you don't want to. Let's go Bar!"

Two friends walked over to the counter and drank. "I've seen enough of your theater here. Needless to say, it's great," muttered the noble father, smiling ironically. "Thank you very much, I never expected that again. It is still considered a capital city, and it is still considered an art center!It's embarrassing to watch. " "Have you ever been to the Alexander Theater?" asked the journalist. Gao Shang's father waved his hand contemptuously and smiled coldly.His purple nose wrinkled and he let out a laugh. "Yes!" he replied, as if reluctantly.

"How is it? Satisfied?" "Yes, the house is all right to me. The theater looks fine, and I'm not going to argue about that, but as to the actors, I'm sorry. Maybe they're nice people, geniuses, Diderot, But from my point of view, they are murderers of art and nothing else. If I had power, I would drive them out of Petersburg. Who is their leader?" "Bo Jiexing." "Oh... Bo Jiexing. How can he be the manager of the troupe? Whether he looks good, looks good, or has a good voice, it doesn't matter. Any real manager or class leader of the troupe should be decent, steady and Prestige, can hold down the whole theater troupe!

The whole regiment should be strictly controlled, just like this! " The noble father stretched out a clenched fist, and his lips made a purring sound, like butter frying in a pan. "That's it! But what do you think? We actors, especially the young ones, can't be left alone. Make him understand and feel what he is. If the director of the troupe calls him 'you', Rub his head, and he'll be on the neck of the theater manager. The dead Savoy Trifonitch, you may remember, was sometimes kind to people, like a family member, but when things get involved When it comes to art, he will immediately fly into a rage! He often fines the actor's money, or humiliates people in the public, or he will scold you so badly that you will spit for three days in a row. Does Potier Can it be done?

He has neither strength nor a real voice.The slow-talking tragedian and the talkative character, even the least squeaky-tongued character among Fortinbras's squires, were not afraid of him.How about we each have another drink? " "Do you still want to drink?" the reporter said, frowning. "Yeah, drinking at night may not be a big deal... But we are enjoying discounts, and it is a sin not to drink." The two friends drank. "Having said that, if you think about it fairly, we have a pretty good troupe here," the reporter said, eating purple cabbage. "A troupe? Well, .

"Well, how can you say there isn't one! After all, there are good ones in all of Russia, even in our Petersburg. For example, Swobozin is. . . . " "Swobozin?" said the noble father, frightened I have to take a few steps back and clap my hands together. "Could he be an actor? You have to fear God. Is there such an actor? He's just a layman!" "But then again..." "What do you mean? If I had the right, I'd drive your Swarbozin out of Petersburg. How can you act like him, huh? Can it be so cold, dry, and without emotion , monotonous, unimpressive, . . . no, let's have another drink! I can't bear it! This man makes me sick!"

"No, buddy, forget it, ... I can't drink it!" "I'm treating you! We drink here at a discount, and even the dead can't resist a drink! They pay ten kopecks, we pay five kopecks. The mushrooms are cheap here, too!" The two friends continued to drink, while the reporter kept shaking his head and clearing his throat very resolutely, as if determined to die for the truth. "He didn't perform with his heart, but with his head!" Noble's father continued. "Real actors act with their nerves and knees, but this one is as rigid as a grammar book or copybook. . . . That's why he's monotonous. He's the same in every part! A pike, no matter what you give it Pike with any kind of sauce! That's it, man. . . . If you put him in a romance or a tragedy, you'll see how shy he is. . . . Comedies are for everybody, no Tell him to act in a romance or a tragedy! Why don't you play romance? Just because you don't dare! No one can do it! Your actors don't know how to make up, shout, or put on airs .”

"Wait a minute, I still find it strange. . . . If Swarbozin is not talented, then besides him we have Sazonov, Dalmatov, Pichippa, and Kiev in Moscow." Selevsky, Gradov-Sokolov, and Andreev-Bullak in the interior..." "Listen, I'm talking to you seriously, and you're joking," said the noble said the father angrily. "If you think these people can be regarded as actors, then I don't know what to say to you. Could these people also be regarded as actors? They are all mediocre! They can only exaggerate, Excessive, scowling, and nothing else! If I had the right, I would not allow these people to stand as far away from the theater and as far as the cannon fire! They disgust me so much, I want to be with them They should fight! God have mercy, are these people actors? They play death on the stage, and they make such a grimace that the spectators in the highest balcony burst out laughing. The other day someone asked I'll make acquaintance with Varlamov, and I won't say anything!"

Gao Shang's father stared at the reporter viciously, made an angry look, and said in a tragic actor's contemptuous tone: "Whether you like it or not, I still have to drink it anyway!" "Hey,...forget it, why bother to drink anymore! I drank a lot!" "But why are you frowning? You know, here is a discount! I don't like to drink, but how can I not drink, since..." The two friends stared at each other for a while while drinking, recalling their conversation. topic. "Of course, everyone has their own opinions," the reporter murmured, "but only those who are biased and prejudiced will disagree, for example, Goreva..." "You are exaggerating!" Gao Shang His father interrupted him. "She's a block of ice! Brilliant fish⑤! She's just putting on airs! She's got a little talent, I don't want to argue, but she lacks fire and power, lacks pepper, you know! What kind of show is she! Like Ah Yuehun Ice cream! It's like lemonade! When she plays, the upper-class spectators who know the show feel as if there is a layer of frost on the mustache and mustache! Besides, in general, there are no real actresses left in Russia, . . . no more!You can't find one even with a torch in the daytime. ...Even if some people have a little talent, they can't stand the current trend and wither away quickly. ...and no male actors. ... Take your Pisarev, for example. ... what is he? " Gao Shang's father took a step back, his eyes widened in surprise. "What is he? Can he be an actor? No, tell me in good conscience: can he be an actor? Can he be called on stage? He yelled in an ugly voice and stomped his feet for no reason. Swinging his arms.... He is not worthy of acting as a performer, but only as an ichthyosaur ⑥ and a mammoth ⑦ in ancient times. . . . Indeed!" Gao Shang's father pounded his fist on the table and exclaimed, "That's true!" "Come on, come on,...be quiet," the reporter advised him to be quiet. "It's embarrassing, people are watching you. . . . " "You can't do that, man! It's not a performance, and it's not art! It's an art of ruin, an art of slaughter! Look at Savina. . . . What is she? No talent at all, just feigned liveliness and frivolity, which can hardly be tolerated on a serious stage! You see, you look at her and wonder: Where are we? Where are we going? Go? What are we pursuing? Art is dead!" The two friends were silent, probably by Bishop's magic, they understood each other's intentions, went to the counter and drank a glass of wine each. "You...you are too strict...strict," the reporter stammered. "I can't help it! I'm an actor of the classics, I've played Hamlet, and the sacred art must be art. . . . I'm an old man. . . . They're all . . . puppies compared to me.  … . . . Yes. . . . They ruined Russian art! Take Fedotov or Ermolov in Moscow, for example. . . . Everyone celebrates them, but what did they do for art? What did they do? What about power? It’s nothing more than to spoil the appetite of the audience! Or let’s take Lensky and Ivanov-Kozhersky, who are very famous in Moscow. ... What talent do they have?Just posturing. ... Seriously, what do they know?You know, in order to perform, it is not enough to have... desire, you must also have talent, spark!How about we have one last drink? " "But we just... drank!" "Come on! It's okay,... I'll treat you.... Our group drinks a discounted drink, and we can't spend a lot of money..." The two friends had another drink.They already felt far more comfortable sitting than standing, so they sat down at a small table. "Let's talk about other actors..." Gao Shang's father muttered. "They are a pure misfortune and disgrace to mankind. . . . There are people who are not even twenty years old, and they have learned to be bad and hopeless. . . . Vischurkin or Pisarochkin, because such roles are easy to please the spectators in the highest gallery, as for playing classical roles, I never even dreamed of playing them. But my friend, in our time, any actor Playing Hamlet.... I still remember the late Vaska, the prompter, playing Duke Richelieu once in Smolensk because the actor was sick.... We took art seriously, not like people do now.  … ...We work hard....When there are festivals, we often play King Lear in the morning and Keweierle in the evening. There is Davydov in the Kirch Theater, very good! Have you seen him? Great! A great... a great master!" "Bah. . . . He's not bad, though, . . . he could be an actor. . . . But, man, he's lacking manners, and no genre. . . . If he's in the hands of a good theater manager, he'll be He got real training, hey, what an actor he's going to be! Now, he's not brilliant, just mediocre.... I don't even think he has talent. Yeah, people exaggerate him, exaggerate Waiter! Bring two glasses of pure white wine, hurry up!" Gao Shang's father nagged for a long time.He continued to drink this discounted wine until the purple color of his nose spread all over his face, until the reporter's left eye involuntarily closed.The actor's countenance was still stern, with a mocking smile, his voice was muffled as if from the grave, and his eyes were always staring fiercely, unchanged.But, all of a sudden, the noble father's face, neck and even his fists seemed to be showing an extremely cheerful smile, as soft as fluff.He blinked, sneaked close to the reporter's ear, and whispered: "It would be great if only Po Jiexing and his entire troupe could be driven out of your Alexandria Theater! Then you can form another really sound one." A new theater company, and then go to Ryazan or Kazan to find a theater manager, you know, you need to find a manager who can strictly control the actors." Noble father was breathless, he stared blankly at the reporter, and then said: "Then there will be "The Death of Ugolino" ⑧ and "Verizalli" ⑨ which are the most captivating. Othello or something like that, or, you know, just play The Mail Coach Robbery, and then you'll see the theater sold out! Then you'll see what is called True acting and talent!" "Notes" ① Refers to an actor who often plays this role. ② A public theater in Petersburg. ③ Diderot (1713-1784), French materialist philosopher. ④The Norwegian prince in Shakespeare's tragedy "Hamlet". ⑤ "Fish" refers to a person who is cold and lacks emotion. ⑥⑦ are all huge and clumsy ancient creatures. ⑧The play by Russian writer N. A. Polevoy (1796-1846), originally called "Ugolino". ——Russian text editor's note ⑨The script of the German playwright Shen Ke. ——Russian text editor's note ⑩A French script. ——Russian text editor's note