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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 32 X 1 2 3 4 5 6 -ft' X t (zzrrs-He'rt.^ n /4- -r-h-^ -fctr-ir -/d 7 > ; 7t^:7:z::^T- AMATEUR ACTING BY J. KEITH ANGUS AuiHor of •■ CHa, -s THeatricals.-' ■• T,eatr..al Scenes a., Tableaux for Children," etc. A TORONTO THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY LIMITED FN 3 1 AS If «^. i' I AMATEUR ACTING. 'pHE growing popularity which has followed the fortunes of the dramatic amateur, and the recognized position as students of the histrionic art which some have attained, are the excuse for the appearance of this book. No book of directions or suggestions will make a player, but a book contain- ing hints may be of importar value as a guide, and, more particularly, to those vv;;o are beginners. ' In compiling this treatise the author has purposely avoided dividing the various subjects under separate heads or chapters. The minutiae of theatre work are so closely interwoven, that separation is impracticable —that is, remarks as to properties must be treated at the time of using the properties, and the movements and duties of the prompter are essentially mixed up with the doings of the company ; and so on with all the points of reference. Moreover, a dramatic amateur should aspire to know everything connected with the trade and profession. Perfect knowledge of detail Amateur Adhig. ^hould be acquired, so that any actor in a moment oremcrgcncy may be able to advise, or direct or eve" -sumo an office which he was „o designed to fi ^^ny a lutch or breakdown may be avoUed by the P ayers l<„owi„g how to avert the mishap. Thus fa fcse pages the grains which malce the' har est a 7 s tile T"""" T "'""'" '"' '"' "^"''«' and, as the purpose of the book is to inform ind cduca e on matters of stage-craft, those who "do "ot last, and tieated more as an essav tlian as •, h„.„ ground of the var.ous branches of the art bcin.> so interlaced with one another. The Press has now come to recognize the firmlv estabhshed position of the amateur actor; an" f„" no less a degree has this been acknowledged by he professional, while co-operation and intercourse between the two are customary Dramatic clu^ ..nd societies flourish in every town, and have to an extent larger than is generaliy known, become he schools which furnish au.iiiarL to tie prof sional stage. In this we see a quietus given ItZ harsh verdict which dead-and-gone times recorded against the actor, when by law'he was deemed*a rogue and a vagabond." The player of the present who has risen to the third posture suggest b^ <^oethe, and has begun to deem a play n°ot jy as Introduction. m •'.omething going on," not only as an impulse coat- .ng a des,rc "to be made to feel," butas a loft e. and more .ntellectual state of mind, "made tothinr' ">ay well shudder a, the knowledge that he is the ..ecessor to the playets who, as Lockhart in hi: W^ of Scott .nforras us, were by the Seottish clergy declared to be "the most „rnfl;„,t ? inrl vit^.f ■ , profligate wretches and vdest verm.n that hell ever vomited out; that and ^tam of human nature, the refuse of all mankind, the pests and plagues of human society; the de bauchersof men-s minds and morals; unc eln beasts ■dolatrous papists or atheist, and the most ho" d and abandoned villains that ever the sun shone It shoud here be pointed out that the word amateur means only that the player does not appear on the professional stage, receiving p y re..w. ufon of his services. It in no way lessens the respo„s.b,hty of the position, nor does it'condone o errors, creless or otherwise, of omission or commis- s'on The amateur actor and actress who go the length o acting must not think that -great things' are not to be expected fro.n them, o, that, '.bdng only amateurs," they are to be forgiven for rrors or mcompetency. In „ot a few points, inde.d the ranks of the former education has played a deeper 8 Amateur Aciiu^ '^^ P'lft than in those nf th^ "'^■"tically the same a„,l H ""= "'"''I'. '•=> I" botl, case. X; 1 ' ; r''°""''"'>- '^ ^1"-'- '■"J'vWual l,in,,el as Jell I ^'^ ""-' ""• '° "•<-• I rn-ate theatricals may be dcfinorf o among friends, as arraiZt . . l^^'-'^^""ances '" their wides sense " T "' ^^'-tricals-used ^'-atre or p^::;;::':^^ '' ''''''"''' '■- ^ door. ^ ^' '^'"' "^oney taken at the '■ndcrtakcn anytl,;,,: of thoH 7 V''° '''•'™ ""'^ "■•S-c„, a„d the H f "::"'. ''" °' <)"-..-o„,„„ Perfo™a„cc ,o be do'^ ' ""^ ^"?gcs,s-is 4c private? what is to be its nif "t i *™'-P"W;c, or be for cl,aritable purpose Tj"" "''"'' •' '^ '' to "■'"de of „,c p,a,s sdceted / ,t ;!.,r f ^"" ■"»»"- '>llat dependence can be „ , ^ ^ "^ P'">''' ' ""d of those ,vh„ are to act ' ^ °" "" capabilities 'o suit the plays, or are' t e' plavft"'' '° '' ''"^'=" Pany? where is the perform ^ ™" "'= oom- -"=y a= easy dispos'T ::::": ' !"'"■' '^ "-^ tauiment? For let it J "" '°^' "f "le enler- a"ce which „,av be saret :™^""'-'=<'. a pcrforn,- tte Theatre RoyaUiackDr^W^^'r "" '°'"-'^' "^ -.-forprese„tatio„o„::~";:^;r '° Amateur Aclmg-. Royal Blanktown. And this is a .ock on winch many an enterprise of this nature goes to picees. A const,tuted dramatic club will, of course, have the experience to surmount such difficulties, if, i„. "otLt" ""f ''™-'"'>°"W arise ; butby the^ore pnvate amateur" these hitches are not so easily conquered. Somebody who knows something abou^ acngand stage management must be selected to take he lead-theories are of no use ; it must be a practical kno^dge w ieh has to come into play. A^nd he^e a note of early warning may be sounded-thcre are more enthusiasts in theatricals than in any other art • more jacks of theatrical trades who are masters oi none; more aspirants to dramatic knowledge who talk as .f they knew and had see„-cverything, but o n reahty know little and have seen less, ^hese a e the persons to be_avoided-but only a master of the art can discover the hollowness of their energies rakmg, at present, the determination of a family to get up a theatrical performance, the first item to be considered ,s, whether it is to be performed in pubhe or m pnvate, and a very distinct and decided deter- mmation ,s essential on this point; because a per- formance of a minor character, played in a drawh,g- room among mtimate friends, may possess charming attributes, which would not shew, but, on the contrary have a shabby and starved effect if acted in a hall however small, or in the presence of more critical iitrangers. And this primary determination is still Aim and Object of Performance. u more important, beca.se, as the work advances and the sp.nt warms to the work, a tendency a. onee present! .tself covermgasnbdued wish todo so,„e.hin/gr " and broader, to bestow the same energy on some tlmg more attractive, to jump from the little bTck drawn,g room with its screens to the vestry-hall with abou h ,„.hour's t.rae in the drawing-room, o^ ™tl, the screens and chairs removed, will trans.irm .tself ,nto a homely dance, will not be big enough t" amuse an audience in a hall-and so the tvhole t k o selectmg the piece, easting or rehearsing it, is thrown away. ^ ' Tl,c„, again, the aim and object of the intended pcformance must be studied, for it may be brought forward only to test what the "boys" and "riris" of a family can do in this respect; it may be to brmg to the test of practice some t^ient whiclo of he elder members of the family may have given evidence of possessing , itmay be, that a daughterhas evinced an aptitude for doing " pert" characters ; there may be a son whose ideas soar to gloomy specimens of declama ion; or, the merits of the family may Z and ye ,„ their very variety be of value l^Z^^^o each other's individual idiosyncrasies. Or k may be got up to enlist from other families talent which can be c mbined ; or it may be the work of practised p^^rs and altogether have no other aim or object bu the an,usemc„t of those who play or thos who w 12 Amatcm^ Acting. pomts of players and spectators, requires due co„- s,dera ,o„ ,„ . ,e selection of the piece, and it : , not do to rush to the conclusion that, because all the fam.ly have seen, say. Still Waters R„„ Dccf ":a:dr:'°'°'''°^^"'^=""-''---S ■s easy and the dresses modern : the question is, who John M.ldmay, or who can play Mrs. Mildmay ' Js veil"'' 'h"°' ?° " ""' " "'^y '"^^^ ™™- P-'= as well as the others, for the aspiring and enthu s,as.c a„,atcur " will " do anythi„/a„d'everytl ^" but the matter to be thought out is, who " L " play tXtV 1 1"' "'"■"• " '° "■' "■"'■•"="-- '-^ -""- por nt, but .t comes m as the second consideration- vv^l the person who « can " do what is wanted, come to the rescue .' If it be found impossible to fit the so"sTfit'°t,"" """■ """ "" P'"^ "'"=' "^ ^'-- SO as to ht the company. Moreover, the cost is a matter which demands c r^ and mature deliberation-.he performance may . eatTf' T," '° '"'' "°""-"^' - ■* -y cost I great deal. The question of hiring a portable staee and d ses will be dealt with later on,!, it is wd^ that ,t should be pointed out that the details of a well-organ,zed dramatic representation cost some ".oney m their production. Against this, however a small performance at home mav be arranU-l Zre in the dresses, *.„ may be mad; at homej only, in the" Aim and Object of Performance. 13 selection of pieces care must be taken that the scenery can be easily arranged, and that the dressigs can be constructed out of those in modern use This gauging the exact motive of the performance IS all-essent.al, for on the answer to it, hinge the magmtude of the pieces to be selected, and the style >n winch they are to be produced. For while an cxce lent evening's amusement may be got out of a couple of boys home for the holidays, by their play- nig Box and Cox, in the farce of that name and with a sister to carry off the part of Mrs. Bouncer^ yet, such a performance would be neither long enough nor dignified enough to play in the presence of a cultivated audience, or in any public place. It must not be forgotten-and this point bears upon our argument-that amateur theatricals are now so general and are so well done, that comparisons necessarily arise as to the respective merits of per- formances given at various houses, and. therefore the entertainment arranged must be small or great and conducted in such a way that those invited are not led to expect more than they will ^Tl f 'r-^"'' ""'" "° circumstances, so far as it will affect their verdict, must they get less. Taking for granted that a constituted or private company purpose giving an entertainment in a theatre or hall, the selection of the piece will depend a good deal upon the style of audience which is to 14 Amateur Actmo-. \ it may be more ilrettL ^ n "^ '''^'" poetic-il ri.cc- ,"§^ *° P^""g^e into something w^ tht . ' °' "''"^''' ^"^^^ ^-y f-" very flat with the audience, and the result will K« r -i only medium success In M^T V ^"'■'' °' and allow the audien Ito be Tl ^"'^'•"""">™^. curta,-,, rising on I," Jof '"■™°'" '° ""= a„H,Vn, "^ representation. English TWner^r ""*„"■>'-«- coaling in ^.B L beg ns bu tt ="™"<; P"-'-lly wl,en the play .^.o™.heevengi„gorr;;;,trZlr^ an« of ate comers edging their way to their seats . tl e rhy, „ „f „^ p.^^^ .^ ^,^^J the hn. s' byheandience:w,r^i;:ora;::ior:;i -XlfeS^e;.cer^' ~ -- of the oft-rep,,.ated iabour: h'i sTn^"""'!""" y the details of positions on a st^ T ^itZ .nexpenenccd beginner, getting u°p a perfl:, nicely ,car„,„g so many words to be repeated f om w ;e rs S it r Audience, j- memory • but, to a very great extent, this !s a minor matter, for .t .swhen the words have been learnt that the business and hard work begin. Of this, probably three-quarters of the audience are in compfete ig„„ anee, and by inattention, by talking, or-worst of all features_by rising to go before the end arrives, they i.ttle know or even suspect, how great are the care and devot,on of study which have been given to render an eifecfve p.cturo or situation at the close; and how some pages ahead in the book, and just when tl^' spectators are beginning to collect their shawls and make preparations to leave, those on the stage, as .f by clock.work,-f„r each step has been measured clothe w>T'"^ """.'° "''■ »°— '.-gradually c othe w th an art.stie harmony the climax of the sto,ywh,ch they have been telling by force of Ian! guage and dumb show. The excuse that certa.n .nd.v,dua „,emb=rs of the audience want to ge o the,r carnages before the crush gets general, beL s mpotent in the face of the aggregate following Tie Tgri: r "''"i"^'' -^ *= --y -mt fee*! mg .s, that the general rush begins previous to the nngmg down of the curtain, when, out of court sy trhaf^r- "^''°""'^^='''--^- '■'-"- As has been pointed out, the plays selected should players. Thus, ,f a representation were to be given before an audience composed of farm servanfs, o 16 Amaieiir Ac/./ no; "-Id not be politic to select su^h"T "'""'• " 5V/^ ^/rawf ^ or r,. , ^ '"* B'°°™y plays as ■■ntelligen cfrrtL T '"■'r'''- T*"^ '-^' °f "-e ->d t: this ' '„ t r": *"'"'' "''"^-^ "= '^^'^«. 1 iioiui play-houses is perraittcH Ti,„ , frequent the home of intense meoH thank- a manager to ToTt 'T ™"''' "°' comedy; and those who L " L f "' '"'^" •;"*s,„e hoids s„.ay, .o^d'^^^ Z!;'";,:;*- thought of having to h'sten to 11,7^ , Sheridan Kno.vlcs Til IT ■ "'^ """= °<^ dons, whose firs • al ' '" *°''' "^ «'=• Sid- reeei ed Z !to id ^M """ '" ''''"""■'S'' -- when, byT sudd ° ' ,1 ""V"" '"^■«'--oe, that tore se the apth;7°'V" ''"""' ^'" ^'™- was the cry of a • T"'"' '" •"=■• '«™d -e dicZ^sito-r I'v;;:; -xr;: 'v;-^ matter of the play, and the mastery of tit „, " were alike above the ken of the audlrncl ' "'"' 51 the?becf ''""""'"'' "" "'=P'=«= 'o be played it then becomes essential to select a stage Lm Stagc-Managci: Tl • '7 Jliis post should only be entnisf^^ * by, a person of exDerL.. [ ' " ""'^"I""' '■■•^ word ■■„ the c^nr ;"or;r"''=."^«"^- -^ '-V. It is .-catena, Xhefhe'-Ltr-rt:"^' '"^ or merely snperinlends its get-un ft ^ f""' he should place himself in front of^'"» "'''"^"^^'^ n>ake suggestions as to poX° 7^^"-'' '•'"'' tonation of voice Tn =„ P"""™"' '"^''ons and in. of the partTav to s "'" '" ™'''"^' " "- the perform rlsucl Teas *T,' "^ '™'" '"=' "^ argued between the to no ° ""'"" ""^' "= hcarsal however l '" "'" ""'<"« °f ••> --e- V- o; tr::;;rr :;r--.; - each unnn i> .'fl, 4.1 cioubt DC aPTccd -.her than thl t a-nedTo'nV" '^ '" '"" "^"^^ ^--e and artistic .nt^^^^lir ::;°S:t^ a":::rrp;i-:t;."Tr'-"- be paramount • an^ as I . ^ ™" *"= '"='" '" 1 ' ^""» '^s the assumntion ic fi^-,*. biif a r'nr.v,ui„ , ""inion IS tiiat none ta^toXatrranTi?:::-^,:-:'''-"- ha^ship need accrue frorS s„;::nis2 t Irrul;::' S.ttmg m front, and watching he ilo,,/ '^^ how the individual positions of the etor bl "d'"' ah.monio„swho,e.foritisasess::t:^^^^^^^^^^^^ move correctiv as if \^ m-.,-«i. *. , -^ ur delicacy of movement Id" e't^fatft d "-'^ Which the audience see the atCri ^0^:;;" c i8 Amateur Acting. rZ^lIT '"'"' "" "'"^"^ - - platform aenscd ,ow of crows yet remains. Of course no stage, but ,t ,s necessary to point out the vita? .mportance of good management in this esp t Suppose that, in diagram 3, a has to speak toTho!' aw ward the positions have become-lt ;"=;., ^ ma e an ungraceful movement to right or if' J make a still more ungraceful +„.•„ n^ake an fnartistic move to^a " ^Z\ ""' ■ ^ "^"^' With careful rehearsTn^ of ! "'"" "^ ""' rtnearsmg of positions, the sfr^o--^ manager wil, have drilled the movemen.; ari^htrrS Stage-Mmtager. tJius A and b will nf fi-,^ .'dvcs in easy Id „ ' \ J'™"" P°""'' «"'! '!>""- been safd the nosiH "" "' J""""-' ^^ '«3 we.^.^rpr. :,::-::- ™„p,e in this diagram : characters appear .O. 5 4 Tabu to What they do in this: Pig. 5. to be speaking • 4 ,„,, , ' " ° '' ^"PPoscd carelessly at t\l^ fire h I '"'"^ ' '"'^^^ ^ ^^'^"^''"? dialogue Th arr^s^ '"' '""^"""'^ °"^ °^ ^^'^ looking. "" '"^°^^ ''^^ --y the faces are To this matter of movemenf fi,. tion should be ^iv.n and dTf ^'""^''^ ^"^"- Judged, the poh^;;:!;^^^^^^^ «'ty of this. Suppose 7 f.^^''''"§^ '^'^ ''''''- suppose A, the heroine, on hearing bad C 2 90 Amafair Actini*. -... bo cecal: 'r;*ir-""'''"-''"e cluur ,n front of him t Thus : '^ ^""^ Tlicre is no reiterated exa-creratio.i fn r • especial point of these direc^o 1 . "^''"^^ '''' proves that to ^ain the desire . • "'^I^^'-'^^cc because, to conquer the difficulty and .rUl of positions be arrived at All thf/.i "" not possihl, see so well as Z so. '^rT'' ::^"- on-some one whose eve hJu °"^''"S^ -cnws.a,epc:L::r'or::::cT:r;i tJie game. And the selector! r. v ""^ reference c,„a.,,.o.,,er:ur:;Lr:e™rj';r all lie 7c id Stage- Manai^if. k 'inti caution uivcii in il,;^ i„ n "wnagcT, and .scmic ait,-,,,, • ^ ""-' "'■■'S'"' <^".ics to sncc,w» n ''^"'■' "° '■'""■" f- l."».ilc lluSKcd carl, „.. ^'"" """■'■'-■ ''°'' 'licy all note, unob;I^^\,::7!' ■''■-''' '-->'PPC<.. 1,0 Iiavc seen the tmnsf.T r> ''^ '^^'-^' "^^'>^t «* to^r i,;r;:;r r, "-^ "'■^'-'»->'' - •- carried on by r''t°"' "' •""'"" ■'^ ''^■'"»' no' be blurred by c, ! ' """^ ""•' P'""'^' ™"»' putting tlK.„,.ci;cst : r 'T '"= """- °'>». '° draw on tl,eu,sl' ' /'"' '''^P'^y'"- " ''c.ire Points of the ;:; I'r ■■"""'■■°" °f ">= -"ience. of .l.c audience bdnTdif" '"'r" "^^ ""= »«cntion o.."o„t,,es,a;e":te :;:r:^;;7-'"'.«o.-n. Tlie p,oniinence incidental M,i vvitnesscd. or raying 3o„,ethi,r.r, If orr""""'°'''°'"S •■" -.y way divcr^d o Zlc :wr"-°"r'"'""^ parlance, are not i„ „ ' '" ""■■atrical professional cir Ic 1'"?'°" °' "" ^''"«'- I" of positions about but it !"" ''"^ ""'' ''••■* h- stage recolleetln tl T""^- °'^^'-''=- '" the 9a Amatcuy ActtHt IS to be acquired only by patience and a steady perseverance. We are apt too often to accept and take for granted, as a fact, that all the good qualities of an art,st or actor are the results of genius. We esfraate a man by his powers, iu's force, and not by Ins l.ttleness or weakness, instead of attributing these good qualities to the credit of „„, „,. » ; . . " °' perseve.-ance and astute trannng. Only judicious training can brin, about a successful end. Says the same critic on th^ same subject, "I, must not, however, be imagined tl.a all th,s was accomplished in a day-i,: wa! the work of years. Perfection is only to be attain d by perseverance." «-tctiiieu The next important personage Js the Prompter although, „. the event of the stage-manager S =s:sss5aaBniiii» Prompter. x\ being among the acting company, the post may fittingly be assumed by him. When, however, the stage-manager is a performer as well, some other person must be chosen to act as prompter, and the office is an important one. There may be found a difficulty in getting this official to be present at every rehearsal, but he should most necessarily attend the last three or four. Having mastered the story of the play, he will take due note of how the actors go through their parts, taking copious notes in his prompt-copy. He will very soon dis- cover how and where certain actors exhibit a weakness in not having sufficiently well learnt their parts. This he should note, and be in readiness to give the word or cue. On the other hand, he will re- member where certain performers make intentional pauses in the dialogue, and will avoid shouting the words to these under such circumstances. He must be careful "not to lose his place " in the book, as it is impossible to know at what point the memory of a speaker may fail him. In keeping his place in the book, too, the prompter must be careful to closely follow the sequence of the lines. In pages of matter where a lengthened sentence is broken only by the listener to it parenthetically exclaiming " Ah !" or "Well .?" or some such interjection— on these words being repeated, the prompter, if his attention should be diverted from. the book, is apt to get confused as to which verbal interruption has been given, and to I 32 Amatcuy Acting. throw out the wrong cue— probably the one too far in advance. The sentences thus omitted may not be able to be worked in again, and so parts of the thread of the narrative may be lost. These intro- ductory stories, generally relating to the time previous to the date of the play, are, as a rule, of importance, to render intelligible the successive references as the plot proceeds. Amateur prompters are too ready to throw out cues without thinking whether the pause made by the actor is a hitch, or a pause made with just propriety. This matter comes up again for notice when the rules for rehearsals are reached, and it will be treated in connection with the players who are thus engaged. To the prompter is usually entrusted the collec- tion of properties—that is, the "things" used in the play— such as a letter, a bottle, a pistol, &c. Proper- ties are very miscellaneous. In The Antipodes, by Bromc, published in 1640, they are alluded to— " He has got into our tirinjr-liou.sc amongst us, And taeii a strict survey of all our properties. Our statues, and our images of gods. Our planets and our constellations, Our giants, monsters, furies, beasts and bugbears, Our Iielmets, shields and vizors, hairs and beards,' Our pasteboard marchpanes and our wooden pies'." In performances not given in a theatre, it is much more safe and satisfactory for each actor to collect and carry with him his own properties. In hiring a theatre there are always the professional property man as Prompter. -- well as stores of properties, which in an emergency can supply what may have been forgotten • there are professional scene-shifters or carpenters, who can produce or make anything at a i^^v moments' notice; and there is the useful "call-boy" In amateur theatricals, not played under the o^gis of professional auxiliaries, such useful resources are unknown, so that it may be taken as sound ad- vice when the suggestion is made that each player should look after his or her own properties. Pre- vious to the rising of the curtain these properties should be carefully checked over, to see that nothing. IS m.ssmg. Even in trusting, on the professional stage to the property man or prompter, these items should all be proved to be within near or convenient sight, and not believed, through an act of faith to be m waiting. Properties are as needful as words- mdeed more useful, for the experienced actor, who misses a property, can always arrange his speech, as an impromptu, to suittheemergency. Preparation should always be made for this. It is absurd for a performer ' rTl 'u' ""'''^' ""'' '" '^' ^°°'^' '-^"d in his part --to al ude by word of mouth, or pointing of hand to a c ock on the mantel-shelf, when no clock is there. _ \^/ith regard to stage furniture, previous to the up-gon.g of the curtain, or of the act-drops or scenes the prompter should run his eye across the stage and note If all the furniture and other properties are on the stage, and. what is of equal importance, in their proper D 34 Ainatcuy Actlne. places. I lie position of properties Is as essential to the smootli running of the piece as the positions of the players. No ^n,\ of trouble, confusion or hitches, may result from, say. a letter being left upon a shelf mstead of on a tabic; or a chair bein Pi'omptcr. ^ . to go out, and b has to almost inmccliatcly come in and tliey are not supposed to meet, it follows that the same points of exit could not be used ; to a small extent the exit by the door might be arranged, so tliat A gomg out, turns to the right, a.id u comin- in enters as if con, ^^g from the left-hand side. It'can' easily be surmised how multitudinous must be the hitches of this nature of which one must steer clear more especially on a small stage, with dwarfed room' beh:iid and around it. The prompter should have his copy of the play interleaved with blank sheets of paper, and on these should be written his various notes. These should embrace all the notes as to entrances, exits ; pro- perties to be taken on, or brought off; bells or knocks, cracking of whips; thunder, &c. &c. all which latter, he is supposed to use in the cour.se of the play. In the regular theatre he, of course, has the call-boy to do his behests. One of his leading cares is to arrange that stage waits or delays do not occur, previous to an entrance being made. To guard against this, his book .should notify, some lines ahead of the actual word for entry, that so-and-so is wanted, and the player should be directed to be in attendance at the door, or other entrance, and in close attention to catch the proper cue. In selecting the pieces for representation, as has been already pointed out, care must be devoted to the choice of suitable plays which will meet the D 2 36 Avmtair Acftup; requirements of Hic audience, and the ability of tlie performers. To amuse and satisfy a mixed audience in a theatre, a sliort comedietta, and a two or three act comedy is requisite ; while in other cases the comedy alone would suffice ; or a comedietta and farce might serve— this last, more especially if ser- vants arc to form part of the audience. Then comes the selection of the company, and allotting the parts to the persons, and the per- sons to the parts. It is generally the case that certain plays are selected because the leading charac- ters in them can be filled by those most interested in getting up the performance. The reputation and recognized ability of the amateur players should here be appreciatively dealt with. The amateur actor who highly esteems his art, will not refuse to play a small part simply because it is a small part, but he may not care— save out of friendliness — to devote the necessary time to it, because he knows, from experience, how, if he does not attend the frequent rehearsals, the other parts will be interfered with ; and he knows, moreover, that, in the especial character, there is no chance for the display or use of his acknowledged ability. Refusal to play in such a case is reasonable. Many small parts are effective, many are not. To the beginner should be entrusted these minor parts, and critics and Selection of CoDipany. 37 experienced players will at once detect in the as- sumption of the minor character whether the per- former is capable, or likely to be capable through practice, of performing higlier work. Let, therefore, no aspirant after histrionic honours despise small parts. If he shews any aptitude for acting it is certain to be noticed, and he, or she, is equally certain to be asked to undertake a longer and heavier part on a future occasion. The fact that one says that he, or she, can act, is not necessary justification for the assertion to be taken as gospel. T^xperience can be got only from repeated practice ; knowledge of stage-craft and appreciation of stage effects can be acquired only by getting a general notion of shades and styles of playing. The theatre itself had an infancy : " Tliespis, the first tli.it did surprise the age With Irafjedy, neer trod a decent stage; But in a waggon drove his plays aljout And shew'd mean antick tricks to please the rout; His songs uneven, rude in every part; His actors smutted and his stage a cart." Then as Creech tells us, " Next /Eschylus did greater art express, He built a stage and taught them how to dress : In decent motion lie his parts convey'd, And made them look as great as those he play'd." Till, as Milton says : " Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, fancy's child, Warbles his native woodnotes wild." -•'"'T inrrraririii 38 Amateur Actiiifr. Human nature, however, asserts its self-conceit in this as in other matters, and everybody who acts has a natural inclination to soar to big parts, and carry out the wisdom of the writer who averred that it was a better ambition to try and discharge an arrow over the moon than merely to shoot it over a tree. But this ambition to play nothing but leading parts, and, having assumed such, not again to play minor ones, is a matter of history, which shews that the same spirit ruled dominant, in this respect, a century ago, just as it does now. Jackson, the well-known Edinburgh manager, in his reminiscences published in 1793, re- lates how he was beset with this difficulty—" An actor, who had formerly played the Ghost, having a few seasons ago, at a provincial theatre performed the part of Hamlet, when the company returned to the head-quarters at Edinburgh, and the play of Hamlet was ordered into rehearsal, the country Hamlet sent in as an excuse for his non-attendance, that having once acted the part of Hamlet, he could not possibly think of demeaning himself so far as to appear again as the Ghost. Let the reader figure to himself the embarrassment of a manager on receiv- ing five other remonstrances almost at the same time and much to the same purport. Horatio had played Hamlet at Aberdeen, the King at Montrose, Laertes at Dundee, Osric at Perth, and the Player King at Stirling. They are inexorable, full of the same importance ; one and all, with once voice, cry Sclccficn of CompanyK 39 •* t out, Hamlet or nothing ! what is the manager to do in this case ? He must either lay poor Hamlet on the shelf, or dress up some of his attendants and lamp- lighters to fill up the characters in one of Shake- speare's first plays ; or be reduced to the necessity of adopting Mr. Foote's mode of creating actors, by filling up the deficiency with a number of pasteboard figures ; which would not, perhaps, be esteemed a very pleasing expedient by an Edinburgh audience. Far strained as this anecdote may appear, or sup- posed perhaps to have been adduced only for the sake of argument, I here declare, the first season I was manager in Edinburgh I had six Hamlets in my company ; but for the above very nice punctilio of not descending to an inferior part, I was compelled to lay aside the part for want of performers the whole winter." To a certain extent, with professionals there is something excusable in this, as the higher role an actor plays so is his salary affected ; witii the amateur it is otherwise, and as a guard against the abuse, most constituted dramatic clubs have rules applicable to such cases. In selecting the company it is generally politic to consult the stage-manager elect, and to eventually leave in his hands the power to substitute, with- draw, or assign parts. It is useless to disguise the fact that extreme difficulty often besets the stage- manager in this respect, and matters have to be arranged with supreme and almost artistic delicacy. 40 Amateur Actino-. Thcstao-c-managcr cannot always be adamant, nor can a universally strict law control and -uidc his actions. He may be a comparative stran-cr to his host, and unacquainted with the company, all of which makes his position the more trying. Appreci- ating this situation, it becomes the more incumbent on the players to accept with heartiness the dictates of his generalship. Harmony can easily be secured, and this resolves itself into a happy policy of give' and take— but still the stage-manager must be in the position of the chairman with the casting vote. The choice of capable exponents for the varied and various characters will at once be suggested by the idiosyncrasies in the every-day characters of the friends of the host. Who does not know the man who has a tendency to gilding his own life wi^h touches of eccentric character ; or one whose voice, full and melodious in its tone, is just what one ima- gines a lover's should be ; or the young lady with dreamy look, soft tones of speech, and graceful bear- ing, who becomes the ideal of some ill-used heroine • or one who having passed her teens, and is somc- A\-hat severe and austere in her every-day work-a-day manner.? T^ is not difficult in the circle of acquaintance to single out your leading performers. Yet, \n this respect, a matter of delicacy is introduced, and it will not always do to select characters which assim- ilate themselves to the mere personal idiosyncrasies Of the willing performers. It is an unpleasant task to \) '-<^'^'*"!?Tos possess no such ambition, and no such knowledge, in which case it is evident one must choose a piece with as equal a division of parts as can be got, and in which none are likely to overtax the histrionic power of those who assume them. Actors and actresses must walk before they run. Thoroughness and earnestness should be the pre- vailing rules which govern the resolution to play. It is far better, if a performer is d iscontented with his 42 Amateur Acfw °^ >'^"'- players do, I had as lief the town-cner spoke .y lines. Nor do not saw thl a): Advice fo Players. 43 loo much . . . but use all j^cntly ; for jn tlic very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, tlie whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it a smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious, periwig-patcd fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings ; Avho, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise ; I would have such a fellow whipped for o'crdoing Termagant : it out-hcrods Herod ; pray you, avoid it " Be not too tame neither, but let your own dis- • cretion be your tutor ; suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this especial observ- ance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature ; for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at first, and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature, to shew virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve ; the censure of the which one, must, in your ai owance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there lo players, that I have seen, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of christians, nor the gait of christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some of 44 AiuatcHi' Adim. nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably, •". . . And letthosethatplayyourclowns, speak no more than is set down for them : for there be of them, that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too ; though, in the mean- time, some necessary question of the play be con- sidered : that's villainous ; and shews a most pitiful ambition in the fool that used it." It should be remembers, that Shakespeare, who left this legacy of advice, was himself an actor as well as a play-wright. His experience of actors must have been vast, for he did the " provincial cir- cuit " extending from Blackfriars to Inverness. The next point to consider is--where is the perfor- mance to take place ? It is customary for amateur clubs to hire a theatre and give afternoon perform- ances, and of course, in this case, with all the profes- sional accessories at hand, much trouble is saved. It is otherwise when the theatre has to be built at home, and on this latter point we must touch. Meantime the following diagram will show the shape of the stage, and, as in acting editions of plays there are abbre- viated stage-directions which may read as puzzle signs to the uninitiated, these will be explained. The depth of a stage will of course regulate the number of en- \ \ Stap-e Directions. 45 trances at the wings, but a full-sized theatre may be said to have a stage somewhat on the scale of the appended sketch. The same rules for construction Complete view of the stage, r).'R~F C . O D. L. c DOOR RiCHT CENTRE CENTRE DOOR DOOR LEFT CtNTRC R . U . E HICHT UPPER eNTRANCi / L U. E Lett uppcK ENTHANce R.3 . E mCHT THIRD tNTRANCt R . a. E RICHT- SECOND ENTRANCE RICHT FIRST E.NTRANCE R.C ^ RifiMT CENTRE Rir.MT HAND Ul o < c CENTRt L . s e LEFT THIRD ENTRANCE N L . a . E LEFT SECOND ENTRANCE L. IE tEFT FIRST EHTRANCI L.C ' LEFT CENTRE ■ «- LEFT HAND « O O FOOTLIGHTS AUDIENCE t PIC e. have to be regarded in the erection of the more mimic stage in the drawing-room, though this may often be so small, as to give room for only one en- r MMMMiMMMaNIMtMMriWilMW 46 Amateur Acting. trance on cither side, and' to have no back entrance at all. The amateur treading the professional stage for the first time will notice that its flooring has a slope towards the foot-lights ; that everything looks as if the wildest state of chaos and confusion reigned ; and that what, to the audience appears new and clean, to those behind the scenes is worn, old and dirty. Taking an imaginary batch of directions, the posi- tion of the player would be thus : L U E „ n a t /y ■••-A LEFT CENTRC V FIC .7. X enters L U E, gives letter to F, l c, and exits R 2 E X enters D R c, comes to R and goes out rue. Y enters D l c, comes to l and goes out l u e. •"C!i:!_UE£ia,t;NTRAK . LETT Many private houses have theatres attached to them but to hosts who have not such, the erection of a stac^e Stage Directions. A7 in the drawing-room is always matter for serious con- sideration, and to its erection there are equally serious objections. Private theatricals " upset" a house— there is no use in disguising that fact. Not uncommon,thcrc- fore, is it for the giver of the entertainment to hire an empty, unfurnished house and invite the guests thither, and there is much wisdom in this. For, as every item of available space is wanted to get the audience in and out, so it is necessary that all furniture must be cleared out, and chairs or forms substituted. As the dining-room will, in all probability, be used as a supper-room, as the passages and staircases must be kept clear, and as the bedrooms will be occupied — where is all the furniture to go > As a matter of ex- pense, if the performance is to be on a large scale, the outlay in this respect, if a trifle over what it would have come to without the extra rent, will easily be covered by what is saved in bother, annoyance, having workmen all over the house, and breakage. But dealing with the proposed performance on a minor scale, the matter can be undertaken at home, with no very serious difficulty. And let it here be repeated, as was laid down in the earlier pages, that previous to be- ginning the preparations, the proposed magni- tude of the entertainment must be defined and immoveably fixed. Else it will be found that the snow-ball of ambition will roll itself into such pro- 48 Amatciir Actinc. portions that, when ahiiost too late to rectify the error, the room will not be found large enough to hold a third of the number r / those invited ; the stage will njt be suitable for the crowd of performers who appear in the big piece which has become a second-thought substitute for the on.rinal small piece— or the whole affair too "simple'' to satisfy those of "light and leading" who, accustomed to watching the antics of elephants, take no interest in the tremours of a gnat. For your spectator of amateur theatricals is nothing if he be not a critic ; and still less if he be not an actor himself who has played the very parts he has come to witness others essay. Vanity is alike the ruling passion of the pro- fessional as of the amateur, and in the days when amateur acting has arisen to such a pitch of excel- lence, comparisons will, of necessity, arise. Let it, therefore, always be the rule that the audience get more than they expected or hoped for. As fruit is the outcome of the blossom, so is the verdict "Well done!" the crown of a performance. It must not be assumed, from these remarks, that audiences are uncharitably disposed, or that one dramatic amateur scorns the efforts of another— but as such a leaven does exist in the lump, it has to come into the calculation. In matters of this nature, there can be no half-measures. The ^rm Belle must be played with as much care as to detail as the Corsican Brothers. It may almost be asserted that now-a-days " everybody acts "—there- % \ 1 r Erection of Stage, <^c. 49 fore, everybody is somewhat of a critic, and it is Just as dangerous for the critic to think badly of the h^^h^:^^^^^^ '' ' ' '- ''- - ^^- — to ere^tl?^^' !f'''''' ''" ^' ^''''^' ^"^ ^hese can be erec ed in a drawnig-room, without injuring the walls Deahng w th this introduces a connection with 2 professional elements of stage-carpentering and scene- makmg. Further on, reference will be made as to how to set about this, and its probable cost. It is the inclmat.on of many to take advantage of this pro- fessional aid and place the matter entirely in its ha^ids -reserving nothing but the actual rehearsing of the parts I hat is-a host about to give a dramatic entertamment in his own. or a hired house, can con- ^•ac with those whose business it is to deal in such matters, to erect a stage ; supply the requisite scenes ; look aft^r the lighting ; have scene-shifters in attend- ^1' "' tr '"''^ ^ '°''"'"'"''" '° ^"PP^y '^'' ^'•^^^^s and wigs. These two latter-" costumes " and " wigs "- are conducted as separate businesses, but an arrange- ment can be made to bring both under one head It is quite possible to get an estimate as to what a per- formance will cost, to adhere to that estimate, and have no further worry about it. leaving the stage- manager to get his play into ship-shape by rehearsal. But It IS none the less an interesting process to have everything prepared at home, so that the 50 Amatmr Aciiiiir. labour of the hands shall brlnj^ c1eh" ■mtil i.i-.e dress rehcarnal. No stringent rule can well be laid down as to thia. The capable Rehearsals. 11 and thoughtful actor will, as rehearsal follows re- hcarsal, be inwardly working out his scheme of representation, and these mental ideas he will test in private or in front of a looking-glass. But he must be careful to give his cue both in word and in action, so that taking up the following words or action may come naturally to the other players; or, in the event of " business " being introduced, that is, lengthy by-play or dumb-show, he must explain what he purposes doing, how long it will take, or at what specific point the thread of the spoken story may be resumed. A story is related of the actress, Miss Brand, who was very particular in going through all her business at rehearsal. At one rehearsal, after a pause of considerable length, when all around were lost in amazement, she turned round to the prompter with great state and said, " Observe, I have stopped thus long that you may remember at night, all this length of time I shall be weeping." The non-expe- rienced should act as much as possible, both with body and voice : it is good training for both, more especially the latter, which, ' ' unaccustomed to long speeches, or untutored in rescr"in,', .ts strength, is apt to give way at inopportune moments. The more intricate and subtle touches, between two or three, as incidents in the progress of play suggest themselves, should be separately rehearsed, or mutually studied, by those who undertake the parts. This measuring the time occupied in declaiming ;. t 78 Amateur Adin(^. certain sentences, or performing certain scones, ought to be nicely and closely calculated in the event of L of the performers having to change a costume. The duration of time occupied in accomplishing this change should be rehearsed, and more than once because, upon the estimate of the time required, will hose upon the stage have to slacken the pace of the.r dialogue, or introduce pauses, or engage in by- play so that the lines shall not all be spoken, and the bi.smess all performed, while yet the change of dress has not been made. Otherwise the result, of course is an awk^^'ard stage-wait, and, from the hurried entrance of the next performer, the audience is enlightened and nm.ated as to the cause of this. It is necessary, some- times, in these cases, to introduce what is termed "gag" -the introduction of language other than that of the author. Save and excepting when such has to be done to cover sins of this nature, the custom is much to be deprecated. It is quite enough to be satisfied with what the author has written. Gag is usually adopted by thelow comedian, and by those towhom the master- dramatist alluded in his advice to the players when as already quoted, he wrote, "And let those that play your clo^vns, speak no more than is set down for hem. for there be of them that will themselves augh to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too ; though, in the meantime, some neces- sary question of the play be then to ho mpsidored" It IS true that many of our professional star-actors Rchearsah. n gag all through the play, but they soon earn a rcpu- tation for this, and it becomes quite an understood thing that the skeleton plot of the character is only borrowed from the author and creator, and the words supplied by the delineator. Actors who have reached the top of the ladder can afford to take liberties with the text and with the audience. 13ut the custom is not a wholesome one. and is apt to degenerate into buffoonery. Unless, then, there be some distinct rhyme and reason for an alteration, the author's text ought to be adhered to. At all events, gag is a dangerous weapon in the mouth of an ama- teur—dangerous to the piece as well as to his own reputation. Shakespeare, who, it must be confessed, shewed a well-disciplined conception as to " cause '' and "effect" in nature, pronounced the custom as " villainous," and says that it " shews a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it." " Gag," of course, does not consist in the substitution of one word for another, or such like, but the wholesale introduction of alien verbal matter, giving a complete malfor- mation to the author's text. The rehearsal occurring last in the series, or just prior to the performance— it usually takes place the evening before-is called " The Dress Rehearsal." and is generally conducted with costumes, scenic appointmruts and all accessories. On an occasion like this many little flaws and oversights are discovered which, hitherto, have escaped notice. Blots on a 8o Amateur Acfm^, i I i in lo complete picture are more easily discerned than an unfinished sketch. In private theatricals in a house, the Dress Rehearsal generally serves as an entertainment for the servants, and an audience of some kmd or other is desirable. It puts the less experienced performer, at ease upon the followincr night when they have " to speak before people," and bnngs out something of the responsibility of acting aright. It is very essential that rehearsals with scenery should take place, but such cannot always be done ; nor can the wigs and costumes be got on t\vo consecutive days, unless special arrangements be made for this. With old and ripely experienced histrions all this is not so absolutely necessary, for as a rule, they know their stage business, and they will have interviewed the costumier and wig-maker and wdl have chosen, arranged, and tried on their dresses and wigs. But Dress Rehearsals should not be despised as being useless, or slurred over as un- necessary trouble. Professionals have their stated hours for rehearsals and such are as much part of their work and callin- as performances. With amateurs it is different, and here we encounter one of the difficulties of amateur acting-the difficulty of collecting the complete com- pany at one place and at one hour. No rules will ever bring this to perfection, and the only way to attain success in this detail is by making early and mutual arrangements. On the Hrst night of HI mm Re/icarsals. 8i reading the piece, the dates and fixtures of rehear- sals should be discussed. What suits the majority must be adopted, and a list of places, days, dates and hours, should then and there be fixed. It is incumbent on those who have associated together to respect and adhere to these dates, and to throw over other appointments, so that the rehearsals may remain open, free and undisturbed by other engagements. Experience does not shew that this is always or even often done ; but efforts towards it should certainly be made, because part rehear- sals, when complete rehearsals have been called, are rarely successful, or of any practical value, and, moreover, the time of the many has been sacrificed through the carelessness or selfishness of the (gw or one. It is as needful to attend rehearsals as it is to attend on the night of a performance ; and if it be deemed worth the trouble, for trouble there undoubt- edly is, to undertake the performance, it is also worth the trouble to respect the rehearsals. Each player should he supplied, at the outset, with a list of the rehearsals, and it is a good method to insure attention to these, to send a reminder on a post-card the night previous to each— for, even with excellent intentions, the best regulated mind is apt to to go to sleep and to forget. The host or stage- manager should undertake the sending of these re- minders. In the event of unavoidable circumstances preventing, at the last moment, any of the company 82 Amateur Acting. ! \ from attending, a message should be sent to the place of rehearsal, indicating that the absentee cannot attend, or that he will be present at a certain hour. The extension of this slight courtesy will prevent the loss of much valuable time, as the parts in which the absentees do not appear may be, in the mean- time, rehearsed. In most companies it will be found that some one out of the number is careless and lax in attending rehearsals. If he cannot be dispensed with, he must be humoured, and the best mode of securing his presence at rehearsals is by the, to him, pleasant punishment of securing his company to dinner, either at the house of the host, or by the actors taking him in hand by turns. Rehearsals soon take the conceit out of one. The cunningly devised entrances and postures are found to be impracticable, and the repeating and reiteration of situations shew that even with those who have attained distinction as dramatic amateurs, there is always something to be learnt, some difficulty to be thought out and conquered— some "ever climbing up the climbing wave" till hard climbing and devotion have secured success. As to the mode of learnmg parts, this must be left to the discretion and inclination of the student. One method may suit one person and not another. One of the most customary methods is to lay a sheet cf paper across the page of the book and hiding what the reader wishes to learn, the cue, or tag-end Learning Parts. 83 of the previous speech is read from the book, and the speech to be learnt is then declaimed from memory. Previous to this it must have been read over several times, and it M'ill require a series of close and con- stant repetitions to learn it correctly. It is in this learning that the actor is apt to commit the blunder o^ " gag," in the moderate and minor degree of sub- stituting his own diction for that of the author, while carefully retaining the sense and the meaning of the original. But why improve, or try to improve, upon the author .? The work stands on its own merits, and the language introduced may not tally with the style nor with the rhythm of the whole ; for all writers and com- posers have a style peculiar to themselves, and a natural method, be it good or bad. in selecting their words and phrases. A passage taken from a play of Mrs. Ccntlivre would not do mixed up with one taken at random from a comedy by Mr. Henry J. Byron. In like manner, the actor':.: style may vary from that of his author in every respect. It is not often that the language introduced exceeds so much as to come under the lash of thi- argument, but mention is made of it, because the principle is wr^ng, and should be discouraged and avoided. Indeed, as a rule, the interjected sentences are mere condensations of the author's ideas. They are distinct errors, for they trip over the turn of the sentence, and do not leave the impression of completeness which ought to be mani- fest in the whole. They become slurs in the even- G 2 84 Amattnir Acting. !:t m^ ness of the composition— and thus result in unfair treatment to the author. But the substitution, through repetition, becomes famih'ar, and, as an out- come, the force of memory gets concentrated on the introduced words and not on the original text. Thus, again, when the sentence comes to be de- claimed aloud, it is wanting in the polish of com- pleteness—it is angular, where it should be rounded ; harsh, in place of being sympathetic; it does not span the proper length ; it does not scan in proper measures. This is more noticeable in the declama- tion of verse, but it is a charm necessary to the correct enunciation of prose. This touches on the confines of elocution — a point of vast importance. Says that sage critic Colley Gibber in his history of Betterton: "In the just delivery of poetical numbers, particularly where the sentiments are pathetic, it is scarce credible upon how minute an article of sound depends their greatest beauty or inafifection. The voice of a singer is not more strictly ty'd to time and tune, than that of an actor in theatrical elocution. The last syllable too long, or too slightly dwelt upon in a period, depreciates it to nothing; which very syllable, if rightly touched, shall, like the heightening stroke of light from a master's pencil, give life and spirit to the whole." Some are quick at learning, some arc slow. To one the mere writing out of the part leaves a fairly accurate regollectipn of the words; while another, by Learning Parts. 85 readlr,.^ the printed matter over a few times, finds it photographed on his mind, and can mentally see and read the words. This latter, however, chiefly applies to printed matter as against plays in manuscript. Some get friends or companions to read the other parts, while the student first reads, and then tries to recite from memory, his or her part. But a trial of the various modes will soon reveal which is most suitable and pleasant to the individual case. And no little virtue lies in this expression "plea- sant." To the amateur there must be no hardships m acting. He is not dependent on it, as the pro- fessional is, for his livelihood, and if the aspirant does not love it as an art, and gain pleasure in its study, and recreation from its attributes, then plays should be as a sealed book to him, and the stage as an unused door. It may be that, loving the art and willing to join in its carousal, the amateur may not be able, owing to his other vocations in life, to follow it. To him the rush to attend rehearsals, the stolen moments in which to learn his part, the engrossing topics of business giving him no time for study nor mclination for reflecting-to such an one something of unrequited labour may be associated with playii.o-. But this case is different from that in which there Is no feeling for, or love of, the art. In the one there can be no seriousness ; Avhile, with the other, there is the presence of the spirit, although obstacles-those obstacles which arc to be found in the very best 86 Amateur Acting. regulated families and societies— bring weaknesses, not of purpose, but of opportunity, to the front. Says Henderson, a careful player who flourished about 1777, on this head: "To learn words indeed is no great labour, and to pour them out no very difficult matter. It is done on our stage almost every night, but with what success I leave you to judge — the generality of performers think it enough to learn the words, and thence all that vile uniformity which disgraces the theatre. Garrick assures me that he was upwards of two months rehearsing Benedict before he could satisfy himself that he had modelled his action and recital to his own idea of the part." Learning the words is very essential, but it is not all. It is not until the words have been learnt, and the stage-manager's mandate of "no books," has gone forth, that the acting can properly begin. It is impossible for an actor to perform the delicate and nervous points of acting with a book of word-refer- ence in his hand. The sooner, therefore, the words have been committed to memory, the better ; and the more, at the outset, the performer relies on the prompter for hint, cue, or correction, the easier does the study of the words become. It is but the pos- session of a natural feeling which makes one rather bashful in acting, at an early stage of rehearsal, with- out the book ; but one never can tell how much one knows till one tries the feat of trying to recollect, when the responsible functions of memory are allowed Learning Parts, 87 th^ir full and legitimate play. It will be found that some parts or sections are glibly remembered, and that others are forgotten, but the omission supplied by the prompter becomes impressed upon the memory of the actor, just as the stern correction of the teacher gets moulded in the memory of the child. And here the prompter, his temporary substitute, or the stage-manager, should try and efface any inclina- tion on the part of the performers to substitute their own language for that of the author of the piece. Experience shews that, with rare exceptions, the text is eminently better than the introduced verbal interpretation of the story. These rare -ex- ceptions may include the change or omission of a word here or there ; may tally with the preparation and lead up to the fulfilment of the actor's reading of the part ; may be necessary owing to the proposed alteration in the stage directions ; may have refer- ence to the unwieldiness of properties ; or so as to give time for some effect ; or may be permitted, in the case of theatricals in a drawing-room, to con- cede the omission of certain dubious words in the dialogue which pass unnoticed in the theatre, but which draw long faces among the spectators in the drawing-room. But, as a standing rule, let the original text be adhered to. And also, let both the furniture and properties which are required by the author be used as often as possible. 88 /Imatcur Actiui^. Ill \Vc come now to acting. "A good play, acted before a well-bred audience." writes Steele, "must raise very proper incitements to good behaviour, and be the most quick and most prevailing method of givmg young people a turn of sense and breedin-" The ingredients of this apply to amateurs. First, they need rarely act a bad play, for, as a rule, they ought to act what has been proved a success by representation on the professional stage. And then, they generally act " before a well-bred audience." To some extent this presence of a well-bred audience does not work for good. There is a non-critical spirit reigning in It; a recognition of friendship; a want of warm appre- ciation of merits and of depreciation o'" faults. It is a wise measure to keep the particulars of rie perform- ance as secret as possible before the rising of the cur- tain. Let the audience be struck with surprise • let them be caught by novelty ; let better things await them than their wildest expectations conceived-and then some of the well-bred element will be removed and the glamour of friendship dispelled. This means that the kindly disposition of an audience is apt to put the player off his guard, and steal away some respon- sibility from the entertainment. For on this head there should be no difference between the profes' sional and the amateur-the respective abilities may vary and differ in degree, but the assumption of the art IS the same ; and the same strenuous efforts after success should be made. Acting. 89 No volume of canons and rules will make an actor, nascitur, non Jit, for the genius must be inherent or born in him ; but a study of the art or bowing down to approved conceptions, may bring about a useful cul- ture which will exalt the otherwise latent or dormant faculties into action. There is an alphabet to acting, and a subsequent course of study in stages. Too many aspirants come to grief because they will strive to run when they should only endeavour to walk. Everybody wants to essay leading parts at once— to play Hamlet, or Juliet, as the inauguration effort, and then ensues the general result of doing the part so badly that the actor-dog gets the pro- verbial name, and no more is heard of him. The features wanting in such attempts and the failures are at once apparent to the critic, and even the general audience can detect the weakness, although unable to name it or to suggest an improvement. The flaw of " appearing " to have been schooled to a certain part ; of having to raise the hand at a certain point ; and raise and lower the voice at certain stages, and all performed in such a stilted, wax-work, and un- natural manner— all shew that the rudiments of acting, if learned by rote, have never been tested by experience. The movements of the body, and modulations of the voice, appear stiff", and though the audience, for the most part, may decipher the reasons and motives which should direct these, it is equally apparent that the performer does not. I k:: 90 Aviatcttr Acting. The first question the beginner is apt to ask is whether, in acting, the person so employed should feel the character? It is in this that the strength of the great actor lies— he feels, but yet is able to control. He gives himself away to his rage or pas- sion, but he has to keep a firm hold on his powers, and curb and pull them up, at a moment's notice. It )is regulated by degree, for if the actor of emotional parts were not to hold the mastery over his feelings he could never rely on his power to produce those subtle shades and cunning texture in his work. Without this bit in the teeth of his irritated feelings he would " tear his passion to tatters, to very rags." l>,e nervous qualities of man's nature become ^he i;Uy things, the subordinates, of the actor. Yet, while holding this sway and mastery over them, he must still have the delicate shades of feeling, and on the experience of this feeling he must act. He must know what he is going to do ; must have the mental picture ever before him, for, as has been finely ex- pressed, "the poet cannot write while his eyes are full of tears, while his nerves are trembling from a mental shc:k, and his hurrying thoughts are too agitated to settle into definite tracks. But he must have felt, or his verse will be a mere echo." And this train of reasoning shews how seriousness and devotion must be applied to the art, and it is only a weakness to assert, or imagine, that because one is only an amateur, there is no need to strive after such Acting, 9* excellence, and that such weariness of devout study may be safely left to those whose calling in life it is to rise on, or fall from, the ladder of this fame. But on the bare supposition * tone is paid for his work, and the other is not .s there lie any reason why the will and the soul should not be employed in fur- therance of the art ? The schoolboy who has made up his mind to be a soldier, is none the less enthusiastic in making long scores at cricket, so that he may win the prize bat — although that he knows that profes- sional cricketing will not be the destiny of his talents. Be he professional or be he amateur, his duty towards the art is quite the same. He must strive to appre- ciate and feel what he is doing. Does the actor feel? Touching on this point, that able critic the late George Henry Lewes observes : — " The answer to the question, — How far does the actor feel } is something like this : He is in a state of emotional excitement sufficiently strong to furnish him with the elements of expression, but not strong enough to disturb his con- sciousness of the fact that he is only imagining — sufficiently strong to give the requisite tone to his voice and aspect to his features, but not strong enough to prevent his modulating the one and ar- ranging the other according to a preconceived stand- ard. This passion must be ideal ; sympathetic, not personal. He may hate with a rival's hate the actress to whom he is manifesting tenderness, or love v/ith a husband's love the actress to whom he is expressing IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) & ^/ m. (/. 1.0 I.I 11.25 ■UUk 18 JA ill 1.6 V] % ^ m J^i > ($*■ ^:/ / / Uy^/. /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 4»^ \ ^v ^ 23 WESr MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 i 'ij,^ ^ ^^. 0,2 Aniaicnr Acting. W i vinuictiveness ; but for Juliet and Desdcmona he must feel love and wrath. One day Malibran, up- braiding Templeton for his coldness towards her in the love scenes of La Somiambnla, asked him ii he were not married, and told him to imagine that she was his wife. The stupid tenor, entirely misunder- standing her, began to be superfluously tender at rehearsal, whereupon she playfully recalled to him that it was during the performance he was to imagine her to be Mrs. Templeton — at rehearsal Mdme. Malibran. " We sometimes hear amateur critics object to fine actors that they are every night the same, never varying their gestures or their tones. This is stig- matised as 'mechanical'; and the critics innocently oppose to it some ideal of their own which they call inspiration. Actors would smile at such nonsense. What is called inspiration, is the mere haphazard of carelessness or incompetence ; the actor is seeking an expression which he ought to have found when studying his part. What would be thought of a singer who sang his aria differently every night ? In the management of his breath, in the distribution of light and shade, in his phrasing, the singer who knows how to sing never varies. The timbre of his voice, the energy of his spirits, may vary : but his methods are invariable. Actors learn their parts as singers learn their songs. Every detail is deliberate, or has been deliberated. The very separation of Art from PI^I^i Acting. 93 Nature Involves this calculation. The sudden flash of suggestion which is called inspiration may be valuable, it may be worthless : the artistic intellect estimates the value, and adopts or rejects it accord- ingly. Trusting to the inspiration of the moment is like trusting to a shipwreck for your first lesson in swimming." And it will be noticed that the expression which occurs in this extract, " preconceived standard," has had its echo rung throughout these pages, and as, just because of this preconception being gathered during rehearsals, it is necessary for the player to have mo- tives and reasons produced as correctly as possible, so in the same direction, is he the abler exponent who has mastered, not only his individual work, but has the motives and reasons of the other parts meandering through and interwoven with his own. Depend upon it, at some period of the play these hinge on one to another. The smallest detail tends to give colour and finish to the whole. Miss Tope wrote concerning the actor Dodd that "no one took snuff like him— this was a trifli.ig circumstance, but he made it produce a good effect." This feeling which the actor has to produce and control, is closely allied to the forms of speech which he uses. The one suggests the other. This was seen by Shakespeare when he wrote his advice full of meaning to the players, and directed that there 94 Amateur Acting, ff should be a combination between speech of the tongue and movement of the body— "Suit the action to the word, the word to the action." The sequence of this should be noted-the action should start, if anything, prior to the word, as if the nerve had suggested the speech. It ought, indeed, to come simultaneously, but with an inclination to be before, but never behind, unless, as an instance of Italics, when a movement may be repeated still sym- bolic of what has been spoken. A double emphasis IS thus secured through force lent by this pantomimic action. This interpretation of speech in dumb show is common enough ; it is seen in the ballet, and in the marionette show, and not a few plays-take for mstance. The Dumb Alan of Manchestey~h^v<, mute characters in them. In ordinary acting the combi- nation is required. Shakespeare saw the value of this, though chroniclers tell us that the Ghost in Hamlet was about the highest piece of acting he soared to, and for a sequence of doleful monotony perhaps no part can excel it. In this junction the mental and the physical meet and, as it may be said resolve themselves into mental acts. "And thus » says' Dr. Maudsley, "each word represents a certain asso- ciation and succession of muscular acts, and is in it self nothing more than a conventional sign or symbol to mark the particular muscular expression of a par- Acting. ^^ ticular idea. The word has not independent vitality, It differs in different languages ; and those who are deprived of the power of articulate speech must make use of other muscular acts to express their Ideas, speaking, as it were, in a dumb discourse. There is no reason on earth, indeed, why a person might not learn to express every thought which ho can utter in speech, by movements of his fingers, hmbs, and body— by the silent language of gesture."' Indeed, in the course of every-day life and conversation we give this "silent language of gesture " continual play, as when, by placing the finger to the lip we call for silence ; or by a rapid jerk of the thumb to- wards the shoulder we denote that some one is approaching. "Delicate impulses," writes Dr An- drew Wilson, "transmitted to the brain, result in images of things seen, or in sensations of things heard ; and as brain-force or mind appreciates in this case, so does the same force, when stimulated in an- other direction, become transformed into the audible Ideas whereby we know ourselves, and become known of others." In the present era, moreover, the player has more scope for utilizing this brain-force than was cus- tomary of yore. Much that clogged the progress of the drama and of dramatic invention has been ex- punged. Mere imitation has given way to originality and the actor of to-day is able to dare to do what is original. There is no one accepted school of acting 96 Auiatcur AcHiio-. -that IS dead and decently buried. Qui, autrefois, mats nous avons chang^ tout cela. Each actor lias his own groove in which he may succeed or fail Alluding to the Shakespearean epoch, writes Clarke Ivussell : — "To the hypothesis of the greatness of the players or that period it may be objected that the dramatic art was m its infancy ; and that as there were no precedents from which to filch the materials with which greatness is reared, these performances must have been rude, exaggerated and exuberant ; that the audiences they were called upon to please were wholly destitute of critical taste, is demonstrated by their capacity for enjoying the monstrous absurdities of their 'mysteries.' and the awkward fooling of their" courtyard mimes. But if dramatic history proves any- thing at all, it proves that precedents are not neces- sary to good acting. The numerous schools which have been formed, and which have been shewn in- adequate by the easy manner in which they have been exploded, all point to this. Betterton's school was exploded by Garrick ; Spranger Barry's school was exploded by Kemble ; Kemble's school was exploded by Kean. The very term school, indeed, Illustrates a deficience. for nature has no school Yet m speaking of schools of acting, let us be careful to discriminate between the founders and their imita- tors. When we smile at the school of Betterton and gum, we certainly do not smile at the greatest Hamlet or Falstaff of their age, but at the mouthing, raving, solemn race of coxcombs that tried to repro- duce them : at Mossop's gasp, at Macklin's tedious- ness, at Davis's mumbling, and at Sheridan's pon- derosity of movement. Every testimony of his period concurs in proving Kemble a great actor ; yet, were it possible for any actor of the day to embody in his personations the traditions of Kemble's excellences —the majestic stalk, the classic severity, the black- browed frown of the noble Roman, would it be easy to conceive any spectacle more likely to move our mirth, or provoke our contempt ?" Nor are our dramatists in working together the matter for stage exhibitions fettered by the absurd rules of dramatic unities which erstwhile were severely binding on their art. These unities were supposed to be three in number: those of time, place, and action. It was thus, in the time arrange- ment, made out that the action of a play should not exceed twenty-four hours. Quoth Aristotle:— "Tragedy attempts, as far as possible, to restrict itself to a single revolution of the sun, or to extend it but little, whereas the epoch is indefinite as regards time, and in this respect differs." While another point lay in the time of representation being exactly that in which the real event depicted in real life would occupy. And as to place, it was rigidly ex- eluded that the audience should, in one act or scene, imagine themselves to be in Rome, and in the next H ■ I 98 Amateur Actino;. in London. The actor of to-day is unfettered and free, save for the compass of those few fundamental rules, respect for or adhesion to which, have been found to be absolutely important for the arranging of decent stage-craft. What is this acting ? It is something akin to representing an ideal, and yet not a complete but a medium ideal— neither too high nor too low. It is a series of typical illustrations, broad enough in their sombreness or humour to be easily recognized as representative. The same class of character may be depicted in humanity by a hundred different speci- mens, but the actor must grasp one whose marks are prominent. There is the villain in real life, who would not do for the villain on a stage. It is, indeed, the holding the mirror up to nature, but it must be to nature brought, as it were, into a focus. Each item of assumption and delineation must be representative : it must be such that the careless and casual student of human nature will recognize it. It must be representative of classes. This ideal, however, must be sought from a common and not an exotic range. The same mental type of character may be hidden under a multitude of outside appearances— thus a representative specimen must be chosen, and this selection, while sufficiently stamped and marked in its design to satisfy the penetrating curiosity of critic and audience, must yet be in common sympathy with what the author intends ; for, in working out Acting, ^g the scheme of his characters, the literary builder must deal in shades, and may wish certain lines of character to appear either more subdued, or more robust, than the ordinarily accepted type would present. The delineator must carefully work on the basis of the author's intention. Thus a "funny" man need not necessarily be a buffoon. Exaggera- tion of character must be avoided, for exaggeration is beyond the probable, and runs a neck-and-neck race with being beyond the possible ; it has, therefore, a false ring. Acting must be dealt with from an artistic plat- form and point of view. It must represent every-day life, but gilded, refined, and toned down. Harshness and crudeness must be eliminated from it, else the picture will be a blotch. And here comes in the point to be considered as to what natural acting is, and how far nature, or effects after nature, are to be repre- sented on the stage. Now, in the story of real life, there are an unlimited mass and surrounding of confu- sion, and a length of web which goes back to the past or forward to the future. There is amalgamation, and little distinct isolation. In a play, items out of hves only are taken, and as these items are to be used for one settled purpose, it is necessary that they should be, in their item existence, as nearly complete as possible. Each of the characters of the play is a com- plete picture, a definite study, its peculiar attributes being used as contrasts, or resemblances, in working H 2 'il too Amateur Acting. ■if- out a plot. Therefore, in each character there must be this difference from its counterpart in real life, that it has the excellence of completeness. It has been pruned and dressed ; all flaws have been removed, and all unnecessary branches lopped off. It is something of an improved edition, a • /ell-bound copy of commont place life. Therefore, again, if the character has all the vices, or all the virtues of humanity condensed in it, it can scarcely be said to represent an actual like- ness of actual nature, so that the conduct of a person on the stage must be guided by the ruling of art. This may be more simply illustrated by the common instance of how far and how long a person on the stage may turn his back on the audience. Now, in a drawing-room, a person's position in talking to another, may be, as it were, out of the general picture, and his conversation carried on in low tones ; but this on the stage would transgress art. It would be correct enough for an actor to turn his back on the audience, but his movement must not be a haphazard one, but one which has been previously regulated, measured, calculated, and rehearsed. Into this seme artifice must creep, for awkward positions in a stage picture are unpardonable flaws. The actor, therefore, has this to study : if he turns his back on the au- dience and proceeds towards the back of the stage, will his voice be heard in the auditorium } will his facial expression and by-play be observed > Will he be placing himself in a position from which,— though Acting. lOI it be suited at the moment to the co-mate he is ad- dressing,— he will yet not be able to answer the next speaker, or to suddenly make an "aside" remark indicative of some important point ? There must be drill on the stage which does not exist off or apart from it. As the best is taken out and dressed for exhibition, and the worst put aside, so does the Ian- guage on the stage differ from the colloquial language which one meets in every-day, street, and drawing- room life. There is not. or, more truly, there ought not to be, any more put in than is sufficient to tell the story, and all the sentences should be rounded and fined off; more than one voice should not be heard at one time, and no meaningless interruptions should take place. So artistically— therefore unnaturally— is the whole condensed and blended, that no feature strikes the listener more forcibly than, when a piece has been filled up with verbal "padding" to spin it out to three acts, it becomes painfully apparent that it should have been wounr* np in two. It palls and grows wearisome, as do the wild digressions of a story which has to tell itself out in three volumes when already, to all pleasant and practical intents and purposes, it has been told in one. The events of a stage story must be sharp and decisive. Were a person to speak .'carefully prepared, or grammat- ically corrected, sentences in ordinary conversations off the stage, much mirth would be occasioned. While again, the blemishes and imperfections of 102 Amateur Acting, every-day speech could not pass muster on the platform. And yet, the consistency of things demands that nature must be imitated and approached upon the stage. Simply because it is perfect nature and, for necessary reasons, soars above the apex of nature, so does it become artificial. And the argument already adduced that the actor, in giving way to violence of passion or emotion, must yet hold the reins of control, shews where art comes in. Nature can be assumed, cherished, or adopted to its fullest point, and then finished ofi" by a touch of art. Posi- tions on the stage assert the necessity for the combi- nation, for to suit the requirements of stage grouping, semi-artificial, semi-natural situations have to be adopted, but natural pose should always predomi- nate. Art comes in to do something in the emer- gency. To action, therefore, or speech, as much of nature should be given, as will not interfere with an artistic rendering. It is here where the by-play of words and movements comes to the rescue. Hesitating and casual attention bestowed on the binding of books lying on the table, while an important speech is being spoken, or confession is being made, naturally associ- ates the idea of nervousness, or the assumption of indifference. The toying with a flower or piece of embroidery work during a love passage, betokens a coyness, or the tremor of the mental pulse agitated by some outward act. The easy, careless lighting of a Acting. 103 cigar, and playing with the match, when one expects to hear bad news, emphasize an indifference which yet conveys the idea of guilt, or of cold and callous bedcvilment. Even m the small matter of writing a letter on the stage, there comes especial need for natural acting. As a rule, this is hurried over in such a manner as to be provocative of mirth amongst the audience, while the spasmodic dives of the pen into the inkstand causes more amusement. Though ink need not necessarily be used, there is no reason why the words should not be fully described on the paper with an inkless pen. Snatches of conversation and by-play can always be effectively introduced during the dictation and writing of a letter. All matters of this kind should be demonstrated as nearly as possible to the way in which they are done in real life. All these, according to the delicacy or roughness of their treatment, give emblematic negation or affirmation to the conversations. To again quote Dr. Andrew Wilson, " Primary gestures and signs over sounds are factors in the production of language. The movements of speech, then, do not differ in kind from those exhibited as the results of other bodily actions ; their connection with the mind is simply more intimate than that which is implied, say, in the act of raising the hand to the mouth." And says Dr. Maudsley, " The word has not inde- pendent vitality." If there were not so many minor plots which work up towards the completion of the 104 A mat cur Acting. II central plot, a play might be intelligibly presented In dumb show, only, here the art is more gossamer, more delicate, and requires more study and more schooling. It is common enough to notice how a player may deliver his or her lines of speech with due care and precision, but fail lamentably in the acting. Acting is not only "speaking" but "doing," and, although the relationship exists between thought and deed, yet, as regards interpretation of thought, it is far easier to say than to do. As has been pointed out, the ideal selection for the study of the actor must be representative of the class or school in the grade of life from which the character is drawn, and it must also be presented in a masterly manner before the audience. The tones and the gestures, with the thousand and one items of detail, must all be produced in such a significant manner that everything done or said becomes, as it were, a stone in the structure of impersonation. The intonation of the voice, the restiveness or listlessncss of action, all ought to mean something, and, of jcourse, something akin to the nature of the life-pic- ture being drawn. Edmund Kean excelled in this. Says one of his biographers, "He vigilantly and patiently rehearsed every detail, trying the tones until his ear was satisfied ; practising looks and gestures until his artistic sense was satisfied." In carrying out this, moreover, the actor must needs settle his mind intently on his work, and while he Acting, 105 may be said to feci the part he is playing, he must retain his control over his powers. For the time being, he is the character. Nothing, therefore, of an extraneous nature should be allowed to tickle his fancy, or attract his attention. Unforeseen events, trifling or great, happening in the auditorium, should be unheeded, as if unnoticed by him, and, on the stage, mishaps or unrehearse ' 'Tects ought never to move him. And quaint mistakes are often made during the progress of the play. Being unrehearsed effects, the actors notice them, but the audience are innocent as to their intrusion. A smile, however, from the player, indicates that something untoward has happened. This must also be avoided. It may sound as rather droll and exaggerated to assert that one of the first lessons of stage trickery to be impressed upon the neophyte in acting, is the art of— standing still. Criticisms, it is true, are freely passed concerning actors as to their beincr "blocks" because they get transfixed to one spot; or that they have no "life " or "go " in them, but this is simply because the players do not know when to move, and how to move. Although it has been pointed out that action should accompany speech, this is more directed to actions of the hands or facial expression, rather than to walking, or complete move- ment of the body. When A is delivering lines, B should not be wandering all over the stage, else the atten- tion of the audience will get centred on B, with ex- io6 Amateur Acting: pectations that he is about to do something connected with the story being told, and so the point that A may have been striving to impress upon his listeners gets lost. It has already been significantly observed that no movements of this nature should take place without being previously rehearsed, and without having some connection with the piece. All these move- ments, crossings, and the like have to be treated seriously at rehearsal, and, in particular, the regulation of the hands and arms. In the records of Voltaire, it is chronicled how, to tone down and thwart an uncon- trollable tendency which one of his acting-pupils possessed, he arranged that the lady should have her hands tied bciind her back during rehearsals. This succeeded very well, till, at length, heated with the passion of the thoughts and words, she, in a resolute moment, burst the slender cords that bound her un- willing arms. To her surprise, instead of chiding her, the master applauded the result, because it was natural to the moment of acting, and because, bent upon a truthful delineation of the part, she could not help it. This motionless acting is all the more hard and difficult to acquire, when a long interval elapses between the speeches of the player. Despite his being tor the time out of the picture, the per- former has yet to learn how to be natu al and how, as it were, to do nothing in a graceful manner! For he must not commence unstudied by-play for the sake of creating a between-time part for Acting: 107 himself, nor, by so doing, interfere with the pro- gress of others. In an old play yclept Ncivs from Parnassus, which was acted at Covent Garden in 1777, there is a conversation among the characters concerning the dramatic author's work and the actor's mission, and bearing on this very point of keeping silent, Rantwell, one of the cast, says, " My name is Rantwell, you may read it in capitals three times a week in the play-bills I hate to be silent in a scene — you have kept me here a long time without speaking a syllable, and let me tell you that is the hardest thing in action," A quiet, unobtrusive style soon tells with the house, and comment is made on the graceful outcome of the performance. There is nothing more common than for a person on the stage to have the appearance of not knowing what to do with his hands, or, indeed, with his body. Attitudes of inartistic mould are not noticed by the players themselves, nor by those on the stage, but when the picture gets focussed to the house, the defect is seen. And many of these defects accompany movements which are of every.-day occurrence in real life off the stage. The fact is, that on the stage we are seen as others see us. Now, as a common illustration, there is nothing more difficult than, with graceful mien, to walk across a drawing-room. In a crowded room this is not observable, but take the case of an indi- vidual — there are, of course, exceptions — walking across a large ball-room, the centre portion of which io8 Amateur Acting, IS denuded of guests. Are not tlie movements crude and angular ; is there not evidence of hesita- tion in every movement ; is not the whole body alive with a visible self-consciousness ? On the stage the space is more limited, and therefore the crudencss of the carriage is not so much seen, but still the move- ments are of a more individual style, and the digni- fied or undignified sweeps of a lady as she makes her exit off the stage, are plainly, even ruggedly perceptible to the audience. Not less so with the man— there are trepidation and uncertainty in his action, what looks like "discontent" in his arms, and looseness about his head. A bad exit, or an inexact entrance, often mars and obliterates the merits of a scene-the lame exit giving a bad finish, the im- potent entrance making a bad start. Here, too should be pointed out, as regards speeches which finish with the retirement of the speaker from the stage, that the actual exit and actual tag-end of the speech should be made almost simultaneously, but care is to be taken that the words be delivered clear on the stage, intelligible to the audience, and not blurted out with the head half through the doorway. But preparation for this spoken exit must be made, and it is often a nice calculation. As it looks highly in- artistic for a speech to be delivered in the centre of the stage with profuse accompaniment of emphasis, and then for the actor to beat a hurried retreat, so,' by means of repetition at rehearsal, must the speech Actm^. 109 be broken up, so as not to overlap the natural move- ments made towards the door. And the trick of first jerking so many words out, and then jerking so many steps along the stage, must also be carefully avoided. Granted that the manoeuvre is a calculated one, it must not be made in over-harmonious flights, and after the fashion of the repetition of a lesson. True it is that the audience should see the perfection of practice — but they must see only the perfection, and not the steps of practice. It may seem a small matter, say as regards kneeling, which knee goes on the floor, but, in a stage picture it is of dire import- ance. If the knee furthest from the audience be knelt on, the effect of symmetry is entirely lost ; while the artistic eye will at once catch the ease of the posi- tion which keeps the leg furthest from the audience up, as a background, and the leg nearest lowered, and kneeling on the floor. So in standing, the leg nearest the footlights extending and covering the other is not only ineffective but positively graceless and awkward. In sitting, the position of the legs is still a study, and the "any way" of leg position in a smoking-room chair, will not do on a stage. Nor, with ladies, must graceless and prominent postures be passed over without correction. Allowing that such and such a posture may be polished enough in a room, it is so because, from the proximity of the on- lookers the deform"ity is not seen, but all eyes are bent on the " picture " on the stage. We do not. as no Amateur Acting. a rule, see graceless attitudes in sculptures ; although these same attitudes may not be commonplace, they have to bear the critical test of the eye in their blending harmony with the whole. It is soft round- ness, not sharp angularity, that is required. All movements on the stage should commence at the extremities, and be long drawn out— that is, the leg must be worked from the thigh, the arm from the shoulder, and the hand from the wrist, and full swing given to the muscles. Much by-play can be success- fully wrought with hands and arms. The eye plays a very essential part on the stage, and a range of expressions can be worked by it. But there is another point connected with the eye which, behind the glare of footlights must be studiously attended to. The eye gives life and expression to the face, pro- ducing what may here be termed, countenance ; there- fore, the eye must be seen, else the face darkens and loses its vitality. Actors, unskilled in the range of Working facial expression, are apt to droop the eyelid and thus hide the eye ; or they scan the floor, producing a like result ; or they keep the eye peering no further ahead than the orchestra, which produces an almost like effect. In none of these cases will the bulk of the audience decipher any ariinlation irt the face. The head should be kept well erect— not stiffly, but easily— and the eye pitched against the end of the auditorium, and above the' leVel of the heads of the people, in which case the play of fece Acting. Ill will be seen by all. All this, however, must not be held as separate, but as part and parcel of the speech, the interweaving of the details. This combi- nation of nature and art, must be obtained by natural and artful movement — using the word artful, not in the sense of trickery. There is a grammar of stage tricks, whereby effect is brought about, but it is not one which grows upon us as our acquaintance with, and respect for, the art warms up. Progress can be mr.de without it, for, as was critically written of Daniel Terry, " no actor on the stage had less trick than Terry ; his conception of all his various characters was invariably just and happy; his words were never slubbered over in haste ; his action was never redundant, but always appropriate, and well suited to the matter he had to deliver." In undertaking to act a part, it is very essential that an amateur should rightly estimate his own ability, and not, by reckless acquiescence, find that he is handicapped in his work. He has not only to learn the words and enact them, but he has to " create." No actor should confine himself to being a mere copyist. If he has never seen the piece selected, as played by the original exponents, or, indeed, by any exponents, on him must necessarily devolve the task of interpreting the part according to some standard or other, and that standard he, too, must frame. It must not be a haphazard determination as to its general colouring, but a deeply conceived u 112 Amateur Actuiir. leading idea; a train of thought merging into articulate speech and animate action. It must be a conception.^ This, what is termed the "reading." may vary m mmor points, or be even in direct opposition to the idea worked out by the original creator— and neither may be the ideal conception of the author ! As a rule, of course, authors and actors work conjointly in this. But the amateur will most probably have to croate afresh and anew. Against this comes the amateur's experience as a playgoer. Every student and aspirant should study the living, as well as the written history of the art. So, as a fairly well accepted rule, it may be taken for granted that the amateur has seen the professional play which he has in his turn to play. But, though from this, a general idea of the character may be gained, he who is content with that, and does not take the trouble to work out new points of his own—which need not necessarily be new simply for the sake of difference— must be endowed with poor imagi- native powers. It is most unlikely that two minds will conceive an identical drawing of one character. In much they may agree, but there must be dif- ferences in detail, and even in the ideas where agreement takes place, there is a difference in the powers of delineating and interpreting these ideas. One man may strive to achieve a reading, but may utterly fail to convey to his audience what he feels or means. This reopens the question as to the ActiuQ\ 113 ^ « strength or weakness of the actor in portraying intelligibly what he feels. His canvas must be very blank if his audience cannot decipher his words and acts. So it is that, resolving on such and such an effect, which is to be produced by movement of the hand or body, by the expression of the face, and by the tones of the voice, due experiment has to be made, as to whether the deliberately expressed action and deliberately uttered voice, do represent what they are meant to represent. Too often they convey the opposite, and while the man feels an affirmative he speaks a negative. Meaning well is often doing ill. Herein lies the true study of acting, and it must be avowedly apparent that, to guarantee such result, there must be study and experiment, and not the bare, and often false, hope of genius lighting up a spark, and, combined with providence, making all end well. Genius may come to the rescue, but genius, after all, in that isolated form, is only the discovery of what persistent ' study has been doing for her. But genius may not come to the rescue : what then } Some grain? of explanation as j to the author's intention, may be gleaned from the I sequence of motive as it runs through the play, and from the effect produced by friction with the other points. Students should be careful not to be over- original, just for the bare sake of originality. There are familiar mile-stones in every picture and phase of human Hfe, and in the effort to do too much, the I IT4 Amateur Acdus^. verve of nature gets lost, and the tint of art gets destroyed. These are the commonplace incidents of commonplace life, and these, in their common shrines, must be expected. The impression must be even, and, without exaggeration, the correct expression can be given. A look, a gesture, a shake of the hand, a curl of the lip, the glare of an eye ; all can tell their own story. There is magic in a word. Mow many renderings are there to the word " Good-bye ! " What diversity can be thrown into it, and all by simple intonation ! A curt good-bye, a polite good-bye, a warm good-bye, — where shall the series end ? "Although pronounced so many tiiTics a day, ' Good-bye ' is not an easy word to say ; Some words can wound us by a simple touch, They sound so little, but they mctii so much." There is the other phase of imitation, which appropriately comes in at this juncture, and that is the bald imitation, and copying of, a .professional actor's antics, voice and peculiarities. No greater mistake can be made. It is undignified, and it is seldom absolutely successful, because, at the best, it is a parody and an imitation. If, moreover, it be worth studying a lengthy part, it is surely worth giving some individuality to it, in contradistinction to merely mangling out at one end what has gone in at the other. If, again, this art of wholesale imitation comes as a relish to the mimic himself, it may be neither palatable nor acceptable to his audience. Acting. 1^5 They may have come to see him act and not to see him imitate. Thus writes the satirical Churchill ;— "The actor who would build a solid fame, Must imitation's servile arts disclaim ; Act from himself, on his own bottom stand,— I hate e'en Garrick thus at secondhand." • Although the divisional study of reading and speaking — what is termed elocution — has been hinted at, being at one with action, it is still a subject that should be treated, in its elementary stages, by itself. "Reading is the delivery of language from writing ; speaking is the utterance of spontaneous composition," writes an authority, and, in the study of dramatic declamation, the germs of both come intc play. Stage speaking comes under the first point of the above, and is the delivery of language from writing, but it goes further than the second, for although it is not the utterance of spontaneous composition it must be given out a-, if it were. We know this art as elocution— the power of fluent speech ; the power of expression or diction ; eloquence ; beauty of words ; oratory. Says Dryden, " The third happiness of the poet's imagination is elocution, or the art of clothing and adorning that thought so found, and varied, in apt, significant, and sounding words." In learning the words of a part, the first requirement is that the matter be read over, and the meaning grasped. The thoughts of the author must become the thoughts of 1 16 Aniatciiy Aciimr. the reciter. In the sequence of a sentence there is a long string of minor ideas, explanatory and paren- thetical, which lead up to the point where the emphasis is needed. This emphatic point, must, necessarily, be paused upon with greater deliberation than the mere expletive or explanatory phrases. These ellipses, similes, and the like arc rnade apparent by modulation in the tones of the voice- some quicker, some slower. Thus, during the de- clamation of a pointed and significant sentence, where the emphasis is slow and emphatic, the sudden appearance, say, of a servant in answer to a summons, would require, in the order given — " Take this letter, &c."—3. quieter tone and more quick expression, the interpolation being but of minor importance ; and then, in continuation of the primary speech, there would be a continuance of the originally pitched key of voice. In public speaking, where the sound of the voice has to travel some distance, it is necessary tiiaf the speaking be slow, so that, in their progress through space, the words may not race each other, and thus get jumbled up into a mere babel of noise. And, owing also to this necessity of the vocal sounds having to travel, the speaker must not allow the voice to drop, as in ordinary conversation, at the close of a sentence, for it is essential that the last word should be heai "s distinctly as the first. The inflections of the vo:':" i '.-.i, iow:ver, be matters of study, for the voice is :;?.t ^ j. : r; uncertain sounds. Nor must the Actins!'' 117 diction be allowed to become too slow, or too iiionutonous. This latter is a common error, ami the result of the sinjr-song has a most depressing, slccp- provoking effect upon an audience. With a heated atmosphere, and the even buzz of monotonously drawn-out sentences, a mesmeric effect is produced, which produces a visible dreariness amongst the spectators. But, with the varied shades of meaning involved in the majority of sentences — for few have not explanatory or interjectional interruptions — there need be no excuse for any such tedious and dull intonation. The theatrical word "mouthing" is a very suggestive one. More particularly in the recitation of blank verse is this apparent. A jiom- posity of diction is assumed. But the main fault lies in not according a close attention to the punctuation. If read according to this, the smoothness of verse will give forth its own cadence : it is only polished prose — and the prose of some writers reads like poetry. And poetry does not necessarily n-.ean rhyme. The polished prose of many writers scans almost into verse. In the writings of Charles Dickens, moreover, we come across touches which are poems. Take this from T/ie Cricket on {lie Hearth, and note the ease with which the lines flow, set as the prose is to rhyming measures : " It is a dark night, sang the kettle, and the rotten leaves arc lying on the way ; and, above, all is mist and darkness, and, below, all is mire and clay ; and ii8 Amateur Aciimr. IK f there's only one relief in all the sad and murky air; and I don't know that it is one, for it's nothing but a glare ; a deep and angry crimson, where the sun and wind together ; set a brand upon the clouds for being guilty of such weatlier ; and the widest open country is a long dense streak of black, and there's hoar- frost on the finger-post and thaw upon the track ; and the ice it isn't water, and the water isn't free, and you couldn't say that anything is what it ought to be ; but he's coming, coming, coming ! — " Or take this from the Plays and Puritans of Charles Kingsley : does it not read like deftly tuned blank verse ? " •, Did not the glowing sunset, and the reed-beds which it transfigured before him into sheets of golden flame, seem tokens that the glory of God was going before him in his path ? Did not the sweet clamour of the wild-fowl, gr^hering for one rich paean ere they sank into rest, seem to him as God's bells chiming him home in triumph, with peals sweeter and bolder than those of Lincoln or Peter- borough steeple-house ? Did not the very lapwing, as she tumbled, softly wailing, before him, as she did years ago, seem to welcome the wanderer home in the name of Heaven And was there no pattering of their voices, no light in their eyes, no trembling pressure of their hands, which said more, and was more, ay, and more beautiful in the sight of Him who made them, than all Herrick's Dianemes, .. U:^aiiMmj^SSiaS9m Actin^^. 119 .. Waller's Saccliarissas, flames, darts, posies, love-knots, anagrams, and the rest of the insincere cant of the court ?" Indeed, the player must study the art of reading, and must do so at home ; and must also learn to read aloud. Now, in the two quotations given above, what a string of diversity of thought runs through them : how richly tutored and varied must be the inflections of the voice to read properly the prose quoted above, without descending into a monotonous drawl of sing-song, and yet giving distinct life to the varied expressions and ideas ! By constant practice in reading — by impressing on his mind the style of the writer, and appreciating the harmony of the prose or poetry — the student soon learns to acquire the art of proper intonation. And, more- over, the organ of voice gains strength for the strain of repeated elocution. The voice must be kept in training, and it is well, unless the actor is continu- ally at the work, to use the voice lustily at rehearsal so as to get its powers matured. The expressions of feeling need not, however, always be repeated at their highest pitch. When Shakespeare laid down his advice to the players, he, in another play, unintentionally no doubt, set them a very excellent task. In As You Like It, the speech on the seven ages of man is a very apt illustration for changing the inflection of the voice, and producing, by means of it and action, a series of I20 Amate7ir Acfmcr. symbols and ideals. For in the allusion to the various human actors who perform in this condensed drama of Life, the declaimcr must needs jump from one illustration to another, and make these intel- ligible representations to his audience. "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely plnycrs; . They have their exits and their entrances ; I -And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages," ; Here, in the following suggestive portraits, the actor, without too gross a colouring, must reconcile the specimen introduced into' the era of which he is the symbol. The changes arc rapid, and jump from the infant to the schoolboy; from the lover, and soldier to the justice ; from the pantaloon to death. The study and analysis of the various passages are not unworthy lessons. It continues : "At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping hke snail Unwillingly to school." There is a semi-unimportance about this stage, but a cunning intonation is required to significantly testify the unwillingness of the boy to go to school ; his "creeping" along, as if looking wistfully back over the fair expanse of meadow. The matter becomes more robust as the scene diverges into manhood— the meekness and bashfulness of the lover, with II Acting. 121 the opposite extreme of the vigour and dash of the soldier — " And then, tlie lover, Sigliing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eye-brow " as if there were something contemptible in this puny caricature of manhood. "Then a soldier; Full of strange oaths, and bearded like a pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth." There is room here for the story-teller to open his lungs and suggest the dare-devil noise and excite- ment of battle— all emblematic that the velvet of the youth has given way to the broad-cloth of the man. Then, as life ages and mellows down, something bereft of excitement and significant of care and repose is expected, and it must come accompanied by some reward. And sc with the reward of good living, and the importance which age gives, comes " The justice; In fair round belly, with good capon lined, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and MMjdern instances, And so he plays his part." Here comes a pause— the top of the hill of life has been reached. There are familiar cities and land- marks behind, but uncertain, unknown paths ahead, and we almost totter, as in doubt, when we push 122 Amatcnr Actui ^' l! ahead. And the voice begins to lose its richness and to sound as blown through a reed. " The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippcr'd pantaloon; Witii spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shanks; and his big manly voice Turning again towards childish treble, pipes And whistles in the sound." ■ And then the plains beyond ; the sad perpetual music of the cataract's fall ; the soft odours of the trees ; withered blossoms, fallen fruit; harvest and— the aftermath, " Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and ir.ere oblivion ; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans t;iste, sans evcrythi-ig." In this, as in other cases, the use of the voice can amply explain the story, and the intervention of by- play and action may strike the notes required. But action and by-play must be softened down, and dealt sparingly with. Action, hov;ever, may come to the rescue in many a scene of vivid word-painting, for "Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant More learned than the ears." One further note must here be added. Let the pronunciation of proper names, names of places, expressions in foreign languages. &c, be all pro- nounced in the same manner. It must be Marguis or Marc^uess, which latter is the more correct of the two, all through the dialogue, or Mar/fr/— taking the Actincr. 123 latter spelling as symbol of the sound-but not both. The chief items then which the amateur histrion must affect are-due appreciation of the -work in hand, and careful and industrious study of the general performance, and his individual part in it, so as to raise it above the common level of medi^ ocrity. Such a result can be acquired only by mark- ing every tone, gesture, w^ord or act with studied style and finish. Nothing in any piece, no character in any piece, is so insignificant that something at least may not be made out of it, and sometimes, even on the stage, the least is the greatest. Wilkes' in speaking of great performers who have acted small parts says, "VVe have seen Woodward, in his highest favour with the town, play a soldier 'in the Rehearsal, bringing in a message." The end may be briefly summed up : Act with care, colouring your impersonation so that It shall "csemhle real life as closely as is com- patible with stage delusions and requirements. Speak slowly and distinctly, observing carefully punctuation and rhythm ; and always retaining the voice well up to its high pitch to the end of the sentence. Be careful also, in this speaking, not to con- tmue your sentence while applause is going on, else some important verbal link of the part may be lost • and do not intrude your speech, as an interruption, un-' til your co-performer has finished what he has to say. 124 Amafair Acting. In matter of dress be studiously correct, even down to minute details. Golden above other rules is this-Icarn and know your part. <• Which do you consider your best ser- mon?" was asked of an eloquent French preacher. The one I knoiv best," was the reply. J ■ N - In the construction of amateur dramatic dubs the various classes of actors and actresses are divided under the following heads : Tragedians, a line scarcely ever adopted with any- thmg approaching success by amateurs : First and Second Walking Gentlemen, meaning those who take the male lead and subordinate lead ; Old Men takmg what the term denotes ; Light and Z.J Comedians, representing, as a contrast, the polite from the vulgar comic element ; Servants, Peasants, &c., which cover the supernumeraries. There are also attached to these a separate grade with the prefix of "eccentric," alluding to comedians and old men who have a special power of mimicry or assump- tion of special peculiarities of character. The same grades apply to the female divisions, with the addi- tion of the " Singing Chambermaid." a theatrical term for a pert servant girl and burlesque actress It does not follow from this that because a member s old in years, he necessarily is the best "old man" -■TC: Selecting Pai'ts. 125 of the company. On the contrary, it is often found that many young men make the best old men for stage exhibition. Most men who aspire to be actors have some peculiar idiosyncrasy which displays itself in minor chords, in real life, giving evidence where their " line " of acting lies. Equally true it is that many have got a settled idea that they were born and cut out for doing parts which are in distinct variance with their capabilities. The acting-manager of the amatpur dramatic club must be the elect and chosen dictator, and all his subordinates must cheerfully acquiesce in his authority and determination. Into the classes before enumerated, he will, when he has gained an intimacy with their histrionic powers divide his brigade, and, on a piece being selected for representation, he will cast it accordingly. In even the most amicably arranged and concerted corps this will lead to trouble, for somebody must take a minor part, or a part he thinks he does not like, and It not unfrequently happens that the player selected to do the "wounded soldier" has a strange partiality for playing the Thane himself. As most modern dramas are written for " stars," and thus become "one character parts," this difficulty more neces- sarily and naturally arises, and there flows from this fact the natural result that one or two out of the company are always cast for good parts. It may be adduced as being fair treatment all round that the leading actors of the corps should get 126 Amateur Acli'it. le^dinff parts i,, order, and that, i„ „,c .,cq„c„ce of p ays produced, d,Ve,,i.y in .fee s„„.,d belied »t. so tlut each of tl,e more capable exponents ^hou.d get a ebance of displaying his power It very true that the « stuff" that may be in an ac o never shows rtself till it gets a chance forfull deve oo ment, and then unthought-of latent talent t^ to exrst where no genius or inspiration was ever supposed to have been lying dormant. This sudd™ bound from mediocrity to patent success is common on the profess,onal stage. But the ranks of both p.ofess.onals and amateurs are so packed and crowded, that the chance only comes to'one out of he many. And it is a question which contains in self opportun,ty for much nice argument-how f^ he memb.rs of an amateur dramatic corps are jus. t.fied ,n makmg experiments as to the virtues and e.xcellences o an untried actor, and before a paying aud,ence? The amateur, be it ren.embered, not as f rule and certainly not in the case of .h'e u'trL one-hav,ng gone through the painstaking and ted»us, but necessary drill of stage manoeuvres. studv o t , " "' ™P°*"' f^^'-- of study to the player. As regards dres.s, in selecting the pieces, a pnraarj. thought should be devoted to cons.denng what magnitude and importance the I^jrss, 127 performance Is to hold. Not a little of the ultimate success of a piece rests on the characters having the proper and appropriate costumes assigned to them In mmor drawing-room entertainments, plays which call for ' powdered wigs " should be avoided, as also tliose asking for costumes of certain eras In history Ihese can only be obtained at a theatrical cos- tumiers, and at once greatly Increase the bill of expenses. On the other hand, an additional charm IS lent to drawing-room pieces, when the costumes are rustic and picturesque, thus forming a happy contrast to the ordinary costumes of the audienc i^uch dresses may generally be unearthed from private wardrobes, and need only a little tailoring to make them fit, and a scrap or two of ribbon to make them look smart and bright. Let them however, be as nearly correct as possible In their semblance to the proper dress of the persons whom they are supposed to represent. Above all In this matter of dress, personal vanity must be laid aside. It Is a creditable enough ambition for a player to make him, or herself, as nice-looking and neat as can be done with the forthcoming clothes but rectitude must not be sacrificed at the expense of personal charms ; therefore if the part be a lodginc.- house mald-of-all-work, the dress must be cople'd from real life, and not from the professional stage where, m the dressing of these servant characters' it IS generally found that the ladles playing them' 128 Anialcnr Actincy. possess the neatest high-hcdcd shoes, deftly clocked stock.n.^s, the best of fitting dresses, tlie daintiest of caps, and a profusion of jewelled rings. In real life tlie domestic " slavey " has generally a " smud.^e " on her face, and her dress is not over-clean, nor her hair very smooth. The lady's-maid again, though dressed in qu.et and becoming style as fits her place as semi- companion to her superior, ought not, for the bare sake of appearances, to be smothered in purple and fine hnen. .And if a character, male or female, in the piece, is alluded to in the dialogue, as bein- poorly dressed, so must that character appear • a V Tf the dialogue mentions that she wears a red cloak or he a white hat, it is essential that a red cloak or white hat should be worn, or else the dialogue should be altered to suit the exigences of the wardrobe. And If the idea of the character represents it as being carelessly dressed, or ostentatiously dressed, or badly dressed, so must the costume appear, despite the dis- agreeable fact that it may not shew off the performer to any advantage. But, let the performer remember during the play, the character has left off the know ledge of self, and has entered into a different and alien being. If, too, the character should be elderly so must the dress tally, and be in harmony, and this, too. although the part is being played by a young and good-looking man or woman. And here again, the question as to the dialogue having to be suddenly changed to meet a sudden exigency such D 'rcss. 129 \ \ as a description of dress different from that used \r, the text of the play, suggests a repetition of the explanation as to how far the actor, while assumin-. a eehng or character, yet retain, control over himt self. If the player is entirely "lost" in the character, he would be unable, in a natural manner, to chan^^e IHS language. There may, for instance, have been no dress rehearsal ; the piayers may not even have seen the.r costumes; but in ordinary rehearsal. A has been alludu.g to B as wearing a blue coat. Suppose that, through some error B enters with a brown coat. Is A stdl to stick to his text and insist that the coat IS blue > Even on the professional stage, carelessness and want of thought provoke such ridiculous and apparent flaws. It is absolutely essential, therefore, that he actor should have complete control ove; himself, and be in readiness to make himself an apt master of what should be said or done to meet every unforeseen difficulty or necessary change. People have a marvellous aversion to making themselves 00k ugly on the stage, or. indeed, disguising tnemselves. No greater error can be conceived U IS by the aid of this disguise, formed by facial make- up and dress, that the spectator dissociates the mdividuahty of the actor, and listens to him and watches h.m. not as he is himself, but as the cha. ractcr he is creating. It may seem of trivial moment and superfluous to make such an emphatic note as to this. But It is not so. The experience of stage K I30 Amateur Acting. spectators all points to errors of omission and com- mission in this very respect, and the criticism is common and universal as to "not looking the part;" to being "too well dressed for the position represented;" to being "too clean," and the h'ke. In cases of large private houses, where there is ample room both for stage and auditorium, there IS no necessity for having restrictions as to dress Some attention, too, should be given to harmonize and blend the colourings of dress on the stage, and it IS well for the players to intimate to one another what colour each purposes to wear— lest by a stroke of fate, everybody should appear dressed in garbs of a kindred hue, or, what is equally as bad, should afford too prominent contrasts. In the case of getting costumes from a professional emporium, it is Often impracticable to get them for two consecutive nights, unless specially agreed upon, and this pre- vents a dress-rehearsal taking place, A dress-re- hearsal is of great advantage, as many faults and slips are discovered during it. But to old stagers it is not so necessary. However, under any circumstances it is essential that the dresses should be previously tried on, to see if they are complete and if they fit. It is very dangerous work leaving all this to take care of Itself on the night of performance. The player should always provide himself with needle and thread, pins and pieces of tape or twine, as repairs have to be made in very unexpected emergencies. r^rcss. '3t The „.ord "picture" ),a., more tl,a„ „„,, b,,„ c.r.rull,.pos,t,o,K.d. and cora-ctly-drcscd ,,ce„c. Tl c cctumc l,as much to do with bringi,,. Tbout' tlus e cct^ The costume is, as it wore, tl,; back, round The actor, playing the part o a country ta of „. d,ct,on, give a fair rendering of tife dc i;,'"V ',", "° P'""'-'-- "° '■•••'"^'■-•mation dcccnmg the on-Iool ample bestowal of both in the preparations. l" of ;h n o e y It V f Facial Make-tip. j-; London and the larger cities, these professional agents have the costume and make-up of nearly every character known in dramatic history, at their fingers' ends. The costumier will unearth from his store of apparel the representative garb required • the peruquier will produce the identical style of wio-'and have, in his mind's eye, the identical tint and'tone of feature which has been associated with the character, ever since the literary artist created it Theatrical costume and make-up are apt to run in grooves : certain styles of characters ha^e accepted and recognized fits of dress and of make-up : and this IS, after all, only natural-for, as has been already urged, the assumption of character ought to be, in its appearance, a representative one, and this ideal representation has already gone through a course of study. Author, actor and costumier have put their heads together, and worked out a result, always with the aim of a medium representation being acquired and yet with due regard to historical accuracy pictorial art. and the exigencies of the dialogue and descriptive figures of speech. So, too, in this art of make-up, there are recognized and ccepted rules which, if carried out, produce certain expected results. And what will strike the tyro on his first sitting under the dresser, is the rapidity with which with seemingly no thought given to the niattcr, a line' IS dashed in here, and a dab of rouge put on there with the marvellous result of a complete transforms^ 138 yiniatcur Acting. ■I 'J tion of the features and expression. But all this is done simply by acquiring and following the rules of the art. The more experienced player, however, will not readily acquiesce in any hurried make-up. He will have formed a mental conception as to how he wishes to look, and will have described this. Then will commence a series of studies in the make-up all working towards the desired end. So complete is this study, that a knowledge of the art will suggest how the lightest drawn line across the face will bring about a result in change of expression which, seen a^t a distance when all the marks and tints of colour be- come blended in harmony, could scarcely be believed to have been so easily brought about. Let it be re- membered that, in this case, where one artist has to undertake the making-up of a whole company, and the costumier has to assist at the dressing thereof, it is of vast importance that players should assemble in their dressing-rooms in plenty of time previous to the commencement of the performance, and that no stage-^wait is thus occasioned by players not being ready. And the necessity of this early attendance becomes at once apparent, when it is pointed out that, in cases of amateurs, repeated custom has not simplified the modes of wearing certain dresses ; and that there is, save when the company has assumed the rank of old stagers, an excitability which brings into due prominence the truth of the proverb about there being, in more hurry, a less degree of speed. '■A ''*. Facial Make-up. 139 There should be no confusion in the dressing-room, and the player on arriving at the destination should select a corner where he will leave his everyday- attire, and, in the case of there being a series of dress- nig-rooms, a notice should be put up detailing the various names of those who are to occupy such and such rooms. Valuables, such as watches, scarf-pins, rings, money, 6^r.-save a little of the latter-should,' unless worn throughout the evening, be invariably left at home. As comfort is a matter of no little consequence, and as, oftentimes, the players have to meet when the performance is ended, so it is a natural desire to evince a wish for cleanliness to the face. But what is one towel among so many > Let, there- fore, each player provide himself with his own towel, or a piece of old linen if he does not care to be burdened with carrying it away again. Soap will generally be found, and this is a very necessary adjunct with which to remove all traces of rouge and paint from the face. It is not always feasible to have professional aid in this matter, nor is the performance always of such magnitude as to warrant the expense. As, however, it has been shewn that much of the result of make- up is acquired through following rules, it stands to reason that the amateur, though he may not attain to great perfection, may yet gather sufficient knowledge of the mysteries of the art as to produce fairly good counterparts of artistic make-up. In the published .-l»irt*«5r-r— 140 Amateur Acling. lists there is generally a very imposing displav of req>nreme„ts and though eaeh of' thes m fC' very few w 11 cover all real requirements. All these :v^.r1^1 '-'T'^'' - '" -S"-'y file ! cotton-wool for "abbing o„ t ,e Imi," ' T" °' i.r.Mi u i- , s "»» me carmine or chromic will be found sufficient fot- :.ii i • ^^"O"^^. TU ""ii-icuc lOr all colounn"- nnrnnc^o There are a so pencils for fh^ « u ^ PUJ^Poses. tive qu. 1, -J . PCraia is equally effec- tive. Side by side with the descriptive text ar, series of illustrations which shew the different eff^ 1 pro uce . by lines, shading with coiou'd p wdt Wigs and hair, on the farf- ti, •., t'^wuers, 3-ld be explained, arf an JrZtTtr '' original lines, and only shew the JIV , '""^ appearance by the JellZ'^ZZ-T'l d :e:;V:^i!n^:/t^,--.--up".? -- .aid dowVsrch f^tm^^r:: Fig. I. Fig. 2, Fig. 3. Fig. 4. Fig. s. Fig. 6. Fig. 7. Fir.. 8, ■f Facial Jlla/.r-u/). j^j though on close hispection of tlic face, a crude, harsh, and unnatural picture is seen. Previous to' beginning with placing colour on the face, a damp towel should be run over it, so as to remove grease and then the face should be freely powdered over with violet powder which gives a dry ground on which to operate with colours. In youthful characters played by youths, or old characters played by elders, there ii not much make-up required, though, for the sake of doing away with the identit}- of the per- former, the addition of a wig, suitable to the age of the character, may be worn, but, as regards young characters, it is as well to avoid too much effort after a make-up. These items, however, are essential. No actor should go before the footlights without having rouge on the cheeks, lines round the eyes, and the eyebrows darkened. The glare of the footlights imperatively demands this ; wanting these additions, the face is bereft of all expression, and is rendered entirely vacant of decided feature. In Fig. 2 we have a juvenile effect given from the face unpainted, except so far as has been suggested above, and this aspect is heightened by a curly wig being worn, or the ordinary hair, if long and soft enough, brushed in similar style. Fig. i is exactly the same size and shape of face as Fig. 2, as reference to the nostril and lower lip will at once shew, but, with the sub- stitution of close-cut wig, or the wearer's own hair damped and brushed flat, and a few extra lines. The 142 Aniiileitr Acting. epu,,„l rouge on the cheek-bone is the same .-.s f" '';• ■'"'"« ■•<"">'' 'h= eyes, but we have an .'dd oual, but very shght shading down from the ide of he nose to the corner of the ..outh ; also a tie ^ouge on the chin. So far, there must be no lines o he brow or ,nes protruding ,rom the corner '"of th eyes. Eut the shght line on the cheek imparts a severer look to the face of /r,v , than JT , Pi„ ,a,,,i , ,, ' &'^^ an expression of a happy disposition ; while, as in Fig. 6. bein. drawn upwards, thev nrndu-^e a '-]. ^ ■ ^ " bvfh^.^r •' ^ - ^ ^^"J< oi giuominess, and by the add.non of a curved hne from the nostril, als^ Facial Make-up. j .-, dou-nu-ards, the tone of severity is added. Reachin- the riper years of maniiood. as represented in Fi