That was its meaning when the French took it from the Latin nativus, carelessly losing a “t” on the way. And the principal meaning of nativus was “natural, not artificial” which was still what it meant when the English borrowed it from the French in the 17th century. It was a vogue word, always in italics, among the poseurs of Dryden’s Marriage a la Mode. Hume used it with apologies for not being able to think of an English equivalent.
I guess that it was only gradually that it began, in both languages, to imply gullibility rather than simplicity; but its pristine meaning long predominated Meanwhile there’s no problem about what is meant by it The attendant adverb tells you.

As it is, even more Americans will now have an exaggerated respect for our theatre Still, as international stereotypes go, it’s not too bad.. WHEN Sir John Learmont accused the governor and staff of Parkhurst prison of “a naivety that defies belief” he was only elaborating on a familiar old clunk-click of a cliche I was reminded of Myles na Gopaleen’s catechism. “Just how naive would you say the prison governor was?” – “Er, extremely naive?” – “Try again.” – “Incredibly naive?” – “Correct!”

It was a fancy way of saying to the people who let those prisoners escape, “How could you be so stupid?” Stupidity used not, however, to be the main thing about naivety, which was more to do with artlessness, a different matter. It would have delivered a view of Britain which, though true, might not have carried romantic conviction in Boston or Baton Rouge or Billings, Montana. British documentaries, current affairs programmes and commercials leave their US counterparts standing. But “Special Issue: British Television” wouldn’t have had the same ring. This week alone, you can see two outstanding serials (Pride and Prejudice and Cracker), and a third which may not be far behind (Jake’s Progress).

Turn on American television and there’s Jonathan Pryce, looking very Paul Smith, sounding very RSC, suavely extolling a Japanese car.But do we deserve this particular accolade? If Vanity Fair had thought hard about what the British are really best at in the arts, they would have done an issue on British television, where the acting is just as good as in the theatre and the writing, on average, is better. British Airways’ shop in Manhattan displays a poster of a man in tights holding a skull. It has driven Arthur Miller, as clear-eyed a writer as you could wish to hear from, into a sort of exile: turning 80 last weekend, he held his celebrations here. As Heilpern notes, Broadway staged 52 productions last year, while the RSC and the National put on 53 between them.Heilpern quotes Michael Gambon’s classic definition of his job – “shouting in the evenings” Vanity Fair’s job is shouting once a month It believes in making a splash. And it knows its readers – how they love the theatre, and associate Britain with it. Snowdon’s portfolio is not just a handsome document: it is a piece of advocacy, convincing those who need convincing of the enduring excellence of British acting.Vanity Fair has a largely American audience, of course, and however bad things are in the West End, they are undoubtedly worse on Broadway. You don’t have to have a title to be included, but it helps.And then there are the photographs, no fewer than 80 of them.

Everybody is there, from Gielgud and Guinness down to Day-Lewis and Ralph Fiennes (who appears topless, with long fluffy hair, as if playing a mythical beast – half man, half souffle). Fifty pages in, when it might be scraping the barrel, you find elegant, full-length portraits of Juliet Stevenson and Nigel Hawthorne, two superb actors who have not forsaken the stage. Heilpern, a senior New York theatre critic, had the good idea of going to the rehearsal for John Osborne’s memorial service, and came back with some sharp vignettes of Dame Maggie Smith and Sir Dirk Bogarde. One of the actors featured inside is Sir Anthony Hopkins, who renounced the stage for Hollywood in 1989. Another is his old friend Lord (Richard) Attenborough, whose last stage role, according to his entry in Debrett’s People of Today, was in 1958.The special report (words by John Heilpern, pictures by Snowdon) occupies 56 pages. Faced with a choice of virtually every well-known face in the British theatre, the editors have chosen a cover-girl, Julia Ormond, who has not been seen on stage for years. The theatre award she won in 1989 does not change the fact that she is a film star.

Vanity Fair’s editor, Graydon Carter, made his name as a satirist, at Spy magazine. And here he was writing in his editor’s letter, “The tradition that began with Burbage, Shakespeare, and Garrick, and continued through Kean and Irving and Olivier and Gielgud, is today at peak form.” At what?A closer look confirmed our prejudices. They come out at the end (or sooner) thinking, great acting, shame about the play.So when Vanity Fair, one of America’s leading magazines, announced a special issue devoted to the British theatre – “the Stars, the Players, the Power and the Glory” – some might have wondered if it was an elaborate joke. People who like the idea of the theatre – the fact that it’s live, sociable, and safe from Arnold Schwarzenegger – are too often disappointed by the reality.