t dramatic artist I had ever seen and
that he had given me a new standard whereby to judge of acting. I said
that when he first appeared I thought he really was an escaped convict
who had lost his way in the streets and come on the stage for shelter,
and that he was going to interrupt the play, as the theatre cat sometimes
does. Suddenly, in a flash, I saw what was before me in two senses at
once, and knew that it must be Giovanni acting, and the sorrow for the
poor hunted wretch was turned to joy at seeing a man do something
supremely well. He was as pleased as a boy with a new half-sovereign,
particularly when I compared him to the theatre cat, and said, with
charming simplicity--

"Thank you. Yes; that is because of the realism; that is my art."

Peppino and I sat up late that night talking about him. He was then
about thirty-five, with a large repertoire and a reputation extending
through Europe and America. When he was about fourteen his father, who
owned and worked the most famous marionette theatre in Catania, died
suddenly, leaving the family unprovided for. He took over the business
and kept his mother, his sister and his young brother. He spoke for the
men figures himself, and his sister for the women. He says that in this
way he learned his art, but other men have had similar training without
arriving at such mastery. He has a passion for doing things thoroughly,
and so thoroughly well did he manage his theatre that Catania was
delighted with him. Three or four years after his father's death, one of
the celebrated Italian actors came to the town and they gave him a
private performance of the _Cavalleria Rusticana_. The celebrated actor
advised him not to waste his time with marionettes, but to act himself.
The theatre was barely large enough, only six or seven paces across, but
it could be made to do, and he followed the advice, giving, at first, in
the Catanian dialect, plays of which nothing was written except, perhaps,
a sketch of the plot. Formerly, when reading was a rarer accomplishment
than it is now, it would have been of little use to write the words.

These plays are full of violence and vendetta, jealousy, murder and the
elementary passions. The audience are uneducated, simple people who look
for the same thing over and over again, as children love the same story
and resent any radical change. This makes it easier to carry one through
than it would be if subtleties or much novelty w