216
PARTISAN REVIEW
She is always like that. Every petty thing, every
acciden~
every hindrance, a creak in the floor, some one grinding his teeth,
any trouble with the lighting-all these she considers as designed
to add to the effect of her singing. It is her opinion, to be sure,
that she sings to deaf ears. There is no lack of enthusiasm and
applause, but as for what she calls real understanding, she learned
long ago to give up any hope of that. This being the case, she finds
interruptions very useful. Any external thing that opposes itself
to the purity of her singing and that can be overcome in an easy
struggle-or even without a struggle, but simply by force of con·
trast-any such thing can contribute to the awakening of the
crowd, and help to teach it, not, of course, understanding, but at
least veneration and respect.
If
petty issues serve her so well, how.much more do the large
ones. Our lives are very troubled, every day there come alarms,
anxieties, hopes, fears, and a person could not possibly bear all
this without the support of his fellows at every moment of the day
and night. Yet even so, it often becomes just too difficult; at times
as many as a thousand shoulders will tremble under a burden
actually intended for only orie. Then Josephine thinks that her
moment has come. She will be standing there already, the deli·
cate creature, with her diaphragm vibrating in an alarming way.
It is as though she were concentrating all her strength in her sing·
ing, as though she were deprived of everything in herself, of every
force, of almost every capacity for life not contributing directly
to her singing, as though she were stripped and made ready for
sacrifice, confided only to the protection of beneficent spirits; it
is
as though while so utterly rapt in her singing, a cold breath might
kill her in passing. But just at the sight of this, we, her so·called
enemies, would say to one another, "How can she even squeak
if
she has to strain herself so terribly, not to sing-we won't even
mention singing-but simply to wring somehow a common, ordi·
nary squeak from herself?" So it seems to us, but, as I have said,
this is but a fleeting impression-an unavoidable one, it is true,
but quick to pass. For we too are soon immersed in the emotion of
the crowd, which is listening with bated breath, warm in the con·
tact of body against body.
And most often, in order to collect around her a crowd of
these people-who are almost always in motion, darting here and
