SOLLY
AING
SCH
NW
OF
8085
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A 917,831

ARTES
1837
SCIENTIA
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
E-PLURIBUS-UNUM
TULBUR
SI-QUAERIS PENINSULAM AMOENAM
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童
​محمد
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CORPORATION STREET, BIRMINGHAM.

ACTING
AND
38627
THE ART OF SPEECH,
AT THE
PARIS CONSERVATOIRE.

B
HINTS ON READING, RECITING, ACTING,
AND
THE CURE OF STAMMERING.
BY
J. RAYMOND SOLLY.
LONDON: ELLIOT STOCK, Paternoster Row.
BIRMINGHAM CHARLES COOPER & Co., LTD., THE LAW COURTS PRESS
1891.
+
¿
WH
Preface.
HATEVER may be thought of the
desirability of teaching acting, or
of the proposition to maintain a School of
Dramatic Art in England, there can be
little doubt that the Paris Conservatoire de
déclamation is the existing head quarters of
instruction in the art of speech. There, at
any rate, one has a teaching staff composed
of some of the most eminent actors of the
Comédie Française, an institution in which,
whatever its defects, “L'Art de la Diction"
is admittedly pushed to a point of general
excellence nowhere else equalled.
I am aware that many admirable treatises
on the various branches of this art have
appeared in England from time to time.
It can, however, hardly fail to be an advan-
tage to supplement these by taking a glance
at the views of leading authorities amongst
our neighbours across the Channel, and I
vi.
Preface.
have therefore endeavoured to arrange my
notes so as to bring out clearly those points
on which Talma and Samson, Régnier,
Got, Coquelin, Legouvé, and other eminent
French masters have most strongly in-
sisted.
Was it not Lord Bacon who said that he
liked to study the theory of any art from
those who had been successful in its prac-
tice? Well, in this little volume I have
specially tried to indicate the chief points
in the advice given by those French and
English teachers of "L'Art de bien dire,"
who have also got to the top of the tree in
the "Métier de diction," because the prin-
ciples to which these have agreed in attach-
ing the most importance are certain to be
the ones which it is essential to put into
practice.
"The
I may add that the chapter on
Cure of Stammering" is the result of my
own personal experience.
}
Contents.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE.
I
SPEECH CULTIVATION
CHAPTER II.
READING AND RECITING
13
CHAPTER III.
THE ART OF ACTING
28
CHAPTER IV.
THE CURE OF STAMMERING
53
!
!
IN
CHAPTER I.
Speech Cultivation.
N this first chapter, before proceeding to
consider the principles of expression under
their respective headings of reading, reciting,
and acting, I propose to set forth as briefly as
possible the essential points of that rather dry
section of our subject relating to the mechanism
and cultivation of speech.
In addressing an audience in any capacity the
two first objects to be aimed at should be the
delivery of one's words with ease to oneself, and
with a clearness capable of riveting the attention
of one's hearers; and to achieve these results
the art of breathing properly is of the utmost
importance.
On this point the great thing to be observed
is to fill the lungs from the very base of the
chest. This is performed by drawing down the
diaphragm, or large muscle which separates the
2
Speech Cultivation.
chest from the abdomen, with a consequent
increase of girth in the latter. Whoever inspires
by merely raising the shoulders and dilating the
walls of the chest only fills the upper lobes
of the lungs and breathes in an incomplete
manner.
Though the chest should not be over-crowded
it should never be too much emptied, and this
may be guarded against by taking advantage
of every pause to suck in a little air. Such
occasions for partial replenishing, besides taking
place at the shorter stops, occur before words
beginning with vowels when the mouth and
throat must be more or less open. In this way
it is easy to keep enough air in the lungs to
carry the speaker through the long passages, and
then at the full stops he can take a long steady
pull and fill them again thoroughly. By this
means he will escape fatigue and keep his voice
strong and resonant to the end of the discourse.
I have heard M. Delaunay remark to a pupil,
"Breathe well and deeply without hurry; always
have plenty of air in your lungs, it improves
the quality of the voice." In Got's class at the
Paris Conservatoire one hears "Breathe often!
Speech Cultivation.
3
*
How does an actor get force on the stage? By
breathing often.” M. Dupont-Vernon writes:
A thing to remark in many readers or orators
is this, that they have in reality two voices. In
that part of a sentence which immediately follows
a respiration the voice is natural and good, but
in any other part it contracts and becomes bad.”
One ought never to be heard to inhale. The air
should be steadily and noiselessly inspired, and
as much through the nose as possible. This last
point is of considerable importance, for although
it is not always practicable to take in sufficient
air in this manner, it is a great safeguard to do so
as much as possible, as the passage of air through
the nostrils purifies and warms it to some extent
before it enters the lungs. Finally, having prac-
tised how to take in the breath, the last thing is
to economise it by expending only just so múch
as is necessary to produce the required sound.
For, as the subject is summed up by M. Legouvé,
“Un mauvais lecteur n'aspire pas assez et respire
trop."
In order to keep the ear of an audience it
is essential to articulate perfectly. Audibility
can only be thoroughly attained by doing justice
4
Speech Cultivation.
to every syllable, and special attention should be
paid to the final ones. A piece of advice in
regard to distinctness, which I often heard given
by the late Horace Wigan was to "Bite the final
letter." The great fault with most English
people is that they will not open their mouths
sufficiently, and it is surprising to find how diffi-
cult it is to effect a permanent change in this
respect. One ought to demand absolutely no
effort from the public. If those who listen have
the least difficulty in hearing, at the end of ten
minutes most of them will be paying no atten-
tion. Dupont-Vernon writes, "I only know in
speech one thing which is more important than
voice: that is the articulation. With articulation
and without much voice, one may still be an
effective speaker; without articulation, even with
a superb voice, it is impossible.
M. Thiers, everyone recollects, had the most
weak and disagreeable voice that could be
imagined. Never vocal key board was less rich;
a squeaky falsetto; no chest notes, or so few;
but, in compensation, what a marvellous articu-
lation! one did not lose a single word." Accord-
ing to Goethe, "Perfect enunciation should be
Speech Cultivation.
5
To acquire
the first object of an actor's care.
this the beginner should speak very slowly, pro-
nouncing each syllable, and especially the end
one, firmly and with decision, so that in rapid
delivery no part of a word shall be indistinctly
rendered."
M. Coquelin, who possesses personally, perhaps,
the most remarkable force of utterance of any
living actor, urges the importance of acquiring a
magnificent articulation in the strongest terms.
He writes, "The articulation is to speech what
drawing is to painting-it is at once the A.B.C.,
and the highest point of the art. It should be
the first study of the actor; the public must
understand every word he says, however quickly
he may say it."
He
One of M. Régnier's methods for improving
the delivery is mentioned by M. Legouvé in his
admirable work, "La Lecture en Famille."
writes, "Few people are born with a thoroughly
good articulation. In some it is hard, in others
soft, and in others again it is indistinct. Practice,
constant and methodical practice, can alone
correct these defects. But what kind of practice?
6
Speech Cultivation.
&
Here is a very ingenious plan which anyone can
make use of, and which is the result of observa-
tion. You have an important secret to confide
to a friend, but you are afraid of being over-
heard; the door of the room is open and someone
in the next apartment. 'You draw near your
friend and whisper in his ear?' No, you dare
not for fear of being surprised in a position which
would betray you. 'What are you going to do
then?' This is your mode of procedure, I quote
the literal words of the master of masters, of M.
Régnier: 'You turn full face to your friend, and
so, using the least sound possible, speaking quite
low, you employ the articulation to carry your
words to his eyes as well as to his ears, for he
sees you as much as he hears you speak. The
articulation has then two functions; it performs
the office of the sound itself, and, to this end, it
is forced to draw clearly the words and exagger-
ate each movement to make it penetrate the
mind of your auditor.' Well, there is the in-
fallible method of correcting all the weakness
and all the hardness of your articulation. Submit
yourself for some time to this discipline, and such
gymnastic exercise will render the muscles of
Speech Cultivation.
7
articulation so supple and strong that they will
answer by their elasticity to all the movements
of your thought and to all the difficulties of your
utterance.' I may mention here that a plan
which is sometimes resorted to in France for
improving the articulation, consists in practising
speaking with india-rubber balls, of say half-an-
inch to an inch in diameter, between the teeth
and the cheeks on each side of the mouth.
compels the various muscles employed to do
more work in utterance, and then, after taking
out the balls, a firm and perfect finish in articu-
lating seems to come more easily.
This
Some time ago I was listening to Mr. Corney
Grain giving a sketch called "John Bull Abroad,"
in which he said "And then there is the
mumbling tourist. Yes, we Englishmen do
mumble, we don't learn to use our lips until
we've got to make our living by it—and then not
always unless we are paid by results." Go and
sit near any master of the "craft of speech;" take
a stall close to Mr. Brandram or Mr. Corney
Grain, and watch the tremendous mobility of the
organs and the elaborate perfection with which
the vocal machinery is turning out words which

8
Speech Cultivation.
must be heard by the most inattentive listener in
the remotest corner of the hall. Samson wrote,
"Parlez distinctement: c'est la première loi; et
que chaque syllabe arrive jusqu'à moi." That is
the kind of articulation to be aimed at, and it is
not be achieved without a good deal of hard
work.
The most solid and supple tones of the voice
are in the chest register, or what is called by the
French, "Le Médium de la voix," and the
importance of keeping in the main to this
can hardly be over-rated. Almost all the
great actors and teachers, French and English,
enforce this rule in the strongest terms. Accord-
ing to Legouvé the first precept in the art of
reading aloud is the supremacy to be accorded
to the middle tones. The great French actor
Molé said, "Sans le médium pas de postérité," and
Talma wrote, "I listened with docility to every-
thing which Molé told me, and above all to that
which concerned the chest register of the voice.
I have owed to that half my talent, and I make
it now one of the foundations of my teaching, a
foundation more solid than this so much boasted
inspiration." Again in M. Got's class at the

Speech Cultivation.
9
Paris Conservatoire, one often hears criticisms on
the tone of voice, which show the importance he
attaches to "le Médium," such as "That's not
your voice! Again up in your head! Lower
down! You can't convey sentiment with head
notes, its impossible." I may remark here that
it is mainly the eminent tragedians who lay great
stress on the importance of developing the chest
register, and the reason of this is that as it is the
most rich and musical, so it is the one chiefly
capable of stirring deeply the feelings of an
audience. For the same reason an orator who
uses these tones, and who at the same time can
make himself audible by means of a perfect arti-
culation, has a much greater hold on those he
addresses than one who makes a principal use of
the high notes to which there is always a temp-
tation to revert in consequence of their greater
range and penetrating power. The first thing to
be done in training the voice is to listen carefully
to oneself and others, and thoroughly establish
to one's own ear any difference between one's
tones in conversation and those employed in
addressing an audience. On this point M.
Dupont Vernon writes, "Speak to a friend in the
Uor M
{
ΙΟ
Speech Cultivation.
street after having run to join him: you speak
with the chest register; leave the bedroom of
your sick mother with the physician, and say to
him these simple words, 'Well! doctor?' Speak
in a room of which the doors are open to some-
one at the other end of the room, while en-
deavouring not to be heard by a third person
who is in the next apartment. In these cases
you speak with the chest register. Every time
in a word that you speak in a low voice, you
speak from the chest, otherwise called 'le médium.
Observe these two men in this drawing-room
filled with people: they have withdrawn a little
apart, and make an effort to speak low: listen to
their tone, they speak with the chest register;
but let one of them, suddenly addressed by the
mistress of the house, be led to reply to her from
a little distance, and consequently in a loud tone,
and immediately he will quit the chest register
to take some factitious tone; that will happen
nine times out of ten. Well! that is what it is
necessary to avoid: it is necessary to develop
your chest register so that it may have sufficient
suppleness and range to be available under all
circumstances. While thus keeping principally
Mao U
Speech Cultivation.
II
to "Le Médium de la voix." it is easy to descend
occasionally to the lower notes, or to pass up-
wards to the higher, and, by mixing the extreme
tones with the middle ones to arrive at that
variety of inflexion, which, as M. Legouvé
remarks, is at once a charm for the listener, and
a relief to the voice of the speaker. The great
fault of the untrained reader and speaker is
monotony. When we speak naturally in
conversation, and especially when
when excited,
the voice moves up and down to express
various shades of thought and changes of
feeling, and it is these simple true inflexions
which should be aimed at in addressing an
audience. I remember on one occasion, when
at the Paris Conservatoire, a pupil of M.
Got was reading aloud an entire scene con-
taining several parts, when the master sud-
denly enquired, "Is it the other character who
says that?" "Yes, sir." "Ah! There you see
I did not know it. I ought to have known that
at once from the change in your voice." As
Coquelin says, “According to the part the voice
should be caressing, smooth, insinuating, mocking
bold, eager, tender, despairing. The lover's voice
12
Speech Cultivation.
1
is not like the lawyer's voice.
Iago has not
the voice of Figaro, nor Figaro the voice of
Tartuffe."
1
A

!
CHAPTER II.
Reading and Reciting.
THE
HE late Sir Henry Taylor wrote, "I often
think how strange it is that amongst all
the efforts which are made in these times to teach
young people everything that is to be known,
from the cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop upon
the wall, the one thing omitted is teaching them
to read. At present, to be sure, it is a very rare
thing to find anyone who can teach it, but it is
an art which might be propagated from the few
to the many with great rapidity if a due appre-
ciation of it were to become current."
It is said that Ben Jonson was a wonderful
reader, and Cowley tells us "I must not forget
Ben's reading. It was delicious; never was
poetry married to more exquisite music." Praise
so high that one almost feels as if Shakespeare
might have been thinking of it when he wrote,
"When he speaks, the air, a chartered libertine, is still,
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears
To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences.
""
-Henry V. I. i.
1
14
Reading and Reciting.
:
But many dramatic authors have been fine
readers. Sardou is, and Scribe was, in the first
rank, "entrant, pour parler comme au Théâtre,
dans la peau de chacun des personnages qu'il
mettait en scène." There is a story that on one
occasion the latter author read a play to the
Committee of the Théâtre-Français which ap-
peared excellent, for it was accepted unanimously
and with acclamation. On the stage, however,
the piece failed, and an actor before whom
astonishment was expressed at this strange result,
remarked, "Oh! well! its very simple.
Scribe is a wonderful deceiver of ears.
us all in by the way in which he read his piece
to us!" This saying was repeated to Scribe who
contented himself with remarking, "Ah! they
say I took them in, do they? Well! if they had
done for the public what I did for them my play
would not have been a failure."
This
He took
Professor Dowden remarks that "Few persons
now-a-days seem to feel how powerful an instru-
ment of culture may be found in modest, intelli-
gent and sympathetic reading aloud;" an idea
elaborated by M. Legouvé, who writes, "One of
the greatest advantages is that it affords an
Reading and Reciting.
15
excellent means of literary criticism. To learn
how to read a passage is to learn how to judge
it. The study of the intonations becomes neces-
sarily the study of the meaning. One can only
communicate thoroughly an author's thoughts
after penetrating them profoundly, and again they
become so much the more possessed by the effort
to express them. There are hidden beauties
which only reveal themselves to one who wishes
to translate them into sound, and the voice
throws a new light upon them by which they are
better seen.
This exercise is also an assistance
in discovering any hitherto unperceived defects.
Such a passage which had fascinated, or some
expression which had dazzled you, appears
ranting or false by this crucial test. To read the
poets to oneself is to become their acquaintance,
to read them aloud their intimate friend. Then
again public reading strengthens the voice; a
large hall requires from the speaker an increased
expenditure of sound; it develops the qualities.
of the pronunciation; one must articulate better
breathe better, punctuate better, to be heard by
two hundred people than by twenty. The taste,
too, is improved; the desire to please, to move,
Uor M
16
Reading and Reciting.
to amuse, which is the object of the reader,
obliges him to be saturated with the beauties of
the passage, in order to make them appreciated
by his audience."
In his writings on the art of reading aloud,
M. Legouvé formulates two principal rules-one
on punctuation, and the other on what he calls the
Mot de valeur," or key word in a sentence, and
which he describes in rather antithetical fashion
as "A rule which is obvious," and "A rule which
is not obvious." The latter of these is un-
doubtedly of great importance, while I think the
former requires at any rate some qualification.
It
Legouvé writes, "This rule, which is obvious,
is the rule of punctuation. The punctuation is,
if I may thus express myself, a gesture of the
thought. It adds to the written page a visible
commentary. It sketches out the sentence.
indicates the articulations, the construction, the
movement. He who punctuates rests himself.
Now, do you know what the rule of punctuation
is in the study of reading aloud? A rule which
sums up and includes all the others." In deliver-
ing a passage from a book it is certainly very
Maou
Reading and Reciting.
17
important to mark all those intervals of time
which are necessary, not merely to bring out
clearly the author's meaning, but to give oppor-
tunity for breathing deeply, and, by assembling
the words into small groups, to render them
easier of articulation. I may, however, remark
that although it is thus essential to pay close
attention to the rhetorical pause, yet that
grammatical punctuation, especially as usually
employed in a somewhat arbitrary manner, is by
no means a complete and reliable guide to a
perfect use of time-interval in reading aloud. On
this subject M. Dupont-Vernon writes, "Pay no
attention to punctuation which would impede
the natural movement of the thought or of the
feeling. One of the most serious obstacles to a
good delivery is the punctuation commonly
adopted."
In order to arrive at the highest degree of
clearness and force, care should be taken to note
the word which sums up and specially indicates
the meaning of each sentence in order that it
may be thrown well into relief. Apropos of this,
Legouvé writes: "Speaking of the theatre Talma
says, 'There is, in every well constructed rôle, a
18
Reading and Reciting.
verse, a cry, or a word which sums up the spirit
of the entire part,' and in the same way we may
regard each sentence as having some particular
key word, which, when accentuated, sheds a beam
of light over all the others, and brings out clearly
the author's meaning. This search for the 'Mot
de Valeur,' or word of special importance in each
sentence, requires one to thoroughly master the
sense of the passage. As an illustration of this I
read in Fénélon, 'It is not natural to be always
using gesture in speaking; one should move
one's arms because one is animated, but should
not move them in order to appear animated!'
What is the key word in this sentence? It is
'appear.' For what does Fénélon want to prove?
That the gestures of an orator are only good on
condition of being sincere, that is to say, in
accordance with his real feelings. Well, accen-
tuate the word appear and immediately the idea
of the author becomes perfectly obvious. I might
multiply the examples: I prefer to leave you the
trouble and the pleasure of finding them yourself.
For there is no task more interesting and more
profitable. This hunting for the key word gives
you the eyes of a lynx in searching all the corners
Reading and Reciting.
19
of the sentence, and compels you to study closely
the thought of the author, to weigh all his words."
Again Legouvé writes, “Nothing avails so much
as personal observation in the study of the art of
reading. What springs from yourself is as
superior to what can be implanted in you by
others, as a shrub in the earth is to a plant in a
pot. Listen attentively to someone who is
relating an incident of which he has been a
witness; then give, afterwards, equal attention to
the same person expressing a reflexion or a sen-
timent. The principal character of narrative
speech is truth; the reader must, by his manner
of delivery, bring before his audience the reality
of the fact. They must feel that it has actually
happened."
In "L'Art de dire le Monologue" M. Coquelin
aîné, the most eminent French reciter, writes,
"What is the object that one aims at when one
recites a piece of poetry? It is to move one's
audience, be it to laughter or be it to tears. In
a word it is to produce an effect. But before
examining how it is necessary to deliver our
monologue, perhaps it will be well to give a little
consideration as to what it is best to choose. In
20
Reading and Reciting.
deciding on a subject for recitation before a
popular audience, what is most to be sought for
is action. It is necessary, in the shortest piece of
poetry, that it should be full of life. It is essen-
tial that an individual should be presented, some
human being, somebody to whom something
happens: a drama or a comedy. Movement,
that is the great law, the imperative law of poetry
for recitation. You must yourself see what you
are relating, for in order that you may put before
the eyes of your audience the action of the story,
it is first necessary that it should have passed
before your own. Suppose that you have a story
to tell let your eye seem to see the things that
you are narrating, and the public will follow your
words with breathless interest. It is above all
according to the characters introduced that it is
necessary to regulate the tone of the piece. I
will add even the attitude and facial expression
which are important also. For instance I have
to recite 'The Shipwrecked Mariner.' It is the
story of an old sailor who 'spins his yarn' to the
loafers of the port. I tell the story seated
myself, and, from the first word, I take the tone
simple, good-natured, and rough, and the expres-
:
Reading and Reciting.
21
1
sion by turns softened, and joking, always
popular, which characterise the hero of the
piece."
M. Dupont-Vernon writes, “A thing that it is
necessary to say and repeat incessantly to the
pupil is this:--The first thing to do, before
delivering it, is to decompose the piece that you
have to repeat into as many different parts as it
appears to you to contain different movements,"
and we find M. Coquelin giving the same advice.
"Then thoroughly understand your subject, see
your drama: afterwards pull it to pieces, cut it
up. The preliminary statement stops here, the
action begins; farther on there is a pause in the
movement like the end of an act, after which the
drama is resumed, more full of life and move-
ment than ever. Mark well all these points.
They are necessary in the distribution of the
movement. It is thanks to them that you sustain
the interest, and that in allowing your audience
to take breath at the right moment, you take
breath yourself."
I have heard M. Worms remark to his pupils
at the Paris Conservatoire, "Le Public n'aime pas
22
Reading and Reciting.
à travailler," and one of the essentials for a public
speaker of any kind is to make no demand upon
the attention of an audience either to hear or
to understand. Listen to either of the two most
successful mirth - provoking 'entertainers' in
England and France at the present time!—I
allude to Mr. Corney Grain and M. Coquelin
cadet-and ask yourself, "What is the most salient
feature in their delivery?" In both cases a suc-
cession of short sentences, the meaning of which
can be instantly grasped by the whole audience
are, so to speak, dealt out to them in an easy,
natural voice, and with prodigious clearness of
utterance. A characteristic of the modern comic
monologue is that of being written in short sen-
tences, the meaning of which can be seized at
once by the entire audience, and there is a
cumulative and electric effect about a joke which
is grasped simultaneously by three or four
hundred people, especially if they are closely
packed.
As regards gesture in reciting, M. Dupont
Vernon writes, "Starting with the idea, which I
believe true, that when one moves much, it is
because one does not know what to do with one's
Reading and Reciting.
23
body, I am more than ever for the extreme
rarity of gesture. I don't say that one should
never use it, this would be absurb; but I do say
that one should make few as possible and above
all unpremeditated. When Berryer spoke in the
"Corps législatif," he had his left hand placed on
the rail, and the right pushed into his yellow
waistcoat, that famous yellow waistcoat for whose
appearance we watched, for it was almost always
a sign that the great orator would mount the
tribune. His speech, slow and measured at first,
warmed up little by little. He had the gift of
animating all the subjects which he touched, and
the speciality of provoking violent interruptions.
How he seemed to seek them, these interruptions,
and what crushing replies he made. Action!
action! It was the special characteristic of this
great orator. Well! I am sure that Berryer did
not make ten gestures in a speech which lasted
two hours. But then what power in these rare
gestures, and how each one of them had its exact
significance! Most pupils imagine that it is
awkward to stand still: it is the contrary which
is true. Others imagine that, having easy and
supple movements, they may without harm use a
24
Reading and Reciting.
great deal of gesture. It is a great mistake; the
more one multiplies gestures, the more one
renders them insignificant. However graceful
they may be, if they have no raison d'être, if they
do not add poetry to the sentiment, or clearness
to the thought, they are bad."
I have often heard Coquelin deliver mono-
logues, with what admirable effect I need hardly
say, and have always been struck by the fact
that he illustrates them with less gesture than
would be used by most English reciters. M.
Legouvé indeed advises amateurs to avoid gesture
altogether, and rely for their effects entirely on
the voice. He writes, "One of the first rules to
give to the reciter is this, no gestures. The actor
makes a trade of the art of speech, but the
amateur reciter, is either a child, or a man who
exercises for a brief interval an art which is not
his own, and his merit, I should say his especial
charm, is to not resemble a professional. There
is here a shade, very delicate, but real; it is
almost an affair of personal dignity."
As regards the delivery of poetry I do not pro-
pose to enter upon a description of the different
1
Reading and Reciting.
25
kinds of metre in the English language, but shall
content myself with observing that the most
useful generally for Dramatic and Elocution
purposes is the Heroic, with its ten syllable lines.
and varied position of the cesura.
In the delivery of the verse, when the true
inflexions and tones are difficult to find owing to
the poetic form and rhythm of the metre, an ex-
pedient often resorted to in France is to put the
essential ideas of the poet into forcible and
familiar prose and then try it over aloud. Having
thus discovered the natural inflexions which
would be employed in ordinary speech, the
problem is to combine with them the melody of
the verse. This is achieved by adding a certain
largeness and poetic accent to the delivery, com-
bined with the observation of the metrical
suspension of sound in the interior of the line
called the cesura, and as M. Coquelin remarks,
By a return to the second rhyming word (or ·
corresponding point in blank verse) after exactly
the same interval of time as was necessary to
arrive at the first." Again, M. Régnier, one of
the most eminent professors the Conservatoire
ever had, writes on this subject, "I am then fixed
26
Reading and Reciting.
in maintaining that a sound dramatic declama-
tion is that which is founded on a respect for the
truth, and a horror of any mannerism which
destroys it. And let no one mistake the meaning
that I attach to this word truth; poetry being
essentially different from prose, not only by the
rythmical rules to which it is subjected, but also
by the nature, by the elevation of the thoughts
which it condenses, it is quite evident that it is
necessary to take care not to destroy its harmony
and weaken its nobility by a common and trivial
delivery. This would be to fail in that funda-
mental law of truth in art which requires that the
expression should always be in harmony with the
sentiment which it expresses.
Let the reader then preserve the rhythm, let
him scan exactly, let him pronounce and accen-
tuate with an irreproachable purity. That will
suffice to bring out, in all its elegance, the melody
of the poetry, but let him not forget that what
stirs the imagination and what touches the heart
is more the thought of the author than the music
of the words in which he has clothed them. It
was this which was so well understood by
Monvel, who kept himself always at equal dis-
Reading and Reciting.
27
tance from the familiar and common tone to
which absolute realism may lead, and from the
mechanical emphasis or mannerism which a sing-
song delivery inevitably produces. Sparing of
gesture, simple in expression, this great actor
understood always, in the management of his
voice, how to proportion the force of the tone to
the importance of the idea, and maintain in his
acting and in his elocution, a close alliance be-
tween what is poetic and what is true, is human,
convinced that it is not giving a charm to poetry
to rob it of truth.”

7
CHAPTER III.
The Art of Acting.
N the preceding chapter we considered briefly
In the
the principles of reading aloud, or what may
be regarded as Theatrical Art at its point of
departure, together with some questions of in-
terest to the reciter, who, in my opinion, does
wisely to regard himself rather as the reader
emancipated from his book than as the actor
curtailed of his accessories. In this chapter our
subject is that final stage in this art of expression
in which "with all appliances and means to boot,"
in the shape of scenery, costume, &c., the en-
deavour is to put before the audience a complete
and living picture of human life.
Now, the purpose of acting is to represent
human nature in speech and action, and the
mechanism of the actor's art is principally
directed to contriving that the meaning of this
speech and action shall be perfectly plain to the
entire audience, and appear natural. I say appear
The Art of Acting.
29
natural because an exact reproduction of nature
is not possible or desirable even in this art.
A successful play involves in the first place a
selection from life, on the part of the dramatist,
of what is dramatic or suitable for depictment on
the stage; and secondly, on the part of the actor
the art of representing this drama in a picturesque
manner, and one suitable generally to the special
conditions of the theatre.
For instance, the distance at which the specta-
tors are placed, the highly artificial arrangement
of light on the stage-the sort of electrically
charged condition of a large and closely packed
audience, &c., all necessitates a special knowledge
of effect which involves a departure from the
strictly natural. It requires, in fact, a skill in
arrangement called by the French "L'Art de la
mise en scène," and the science of what I may call
"Theatrical Optics," or the knowledge of how to
enlarge and throw into relief every shade of
meaning in the piece, so that it can be seen from
afar and grasped clearly from all parts of the
house. And undoubtedly in achieving this the
French have one natural advantage over us, in
being able to use in their gestures on the boards
30
The Art of Acting.
a "formula of action" practised and understood
in everyday life.
As regards this subject of stage gesture, Mrs.
Kendal remarks that "With us it is more art
than nature; with the French it is more nature
than art." The danger of studied gesture un-
doubtedly is that actors are sometimes tempted
to escape from a feeling of awkwardness in stand-
ing or sitting still on the stage by using artificial
movements which add no real force or poetry to
the dialogue, and only distract the attention of
the audience. Actors at the Comédie Française
are in general more sparing of gesture than our
own. They don't fancy that because they have
easy and supple movements they may, without
harm, use them indiscriminately, and thoroughly
appreciate the fact that the more gesture is mul-
tiplied the more it is rendered insignificant. Re-
ferring to Mdme. Arnould-Plessy, M. Dupont-
Vernon, Professor at the Conservatoire, writes,
"My admiration for this great actress, for this in-
comparable mistress of the art of speech, is such.
that I shall never be able to express it even
feebly. Well! Mdme. Arnould-Plessy scarcely
stirred any more in Elmire than in Clorinde, or
The Art of Acting.
31
in Agrippine. One day, in the third act of
l'Aventurière, which she carried through with
bewildering rapidity, she made (I counted them)
two gestures, no more. An actor du boulevard
who happened to be seated beside me in the
theatre could not understand it. 'What kind of
an actress is it,' said he to me 'that doesn't
move?' 'Does she move you?' I said to him,
'Yes, certainly.' 'Well! my friend, that's the
great thing!' Oh, I don't deny the power of a
gesture on the stage! One would be a fool to
formulate such a heresy; one would have, above
all, never to have seen Frédérick Lemaître, never
to have been in a position to perceive all the
meaning that he sometimes put into his most
simple ones. I claim on the contrary that this
book (Diseurs et Comédiens) is nothing but a
long pleading in favour of gesture since I have
established that the actor must often express
ideas which are not written, and that he can
only do so by looks and gestures; but I only
want to see good gestures. And do you know
on what condition a gesture can be good? It is
when it is appropriate to the written ideas and
completes them. Do you know when it can be
32
The Art of Acting.
sublime? It is when it takes the place of ideas
not written. But it is essential that gesture
should only be used when necessary, or at any
rate useful. It is above all necessary that it
should not disturb the spoken language by a
disagreement, that it should not weaken its force
by attracting the eye to the detriment of the
ear; it is necessary in a word that it should be
a precious reserve, and that one should only
bring it into action, like every reserve, at the
opportune moment to take the place of words,
to sustain the idea, or to decide by a supreme
effort the winning of the battle.'
})
One of the first principles which generally
needs impressing on dramatic students is that the
actor should always appear to think and not to
know; and it is only after considerable practical
experience on the stage that this is ever
thoroughly understood and attended to.
Indeed, one of the most invariable faults with
beginners on the stage is that they will run off
their words too quickly and without taking
sufficient pains to convey the appearance of the
thought which produced them. As the late M.
The Art of Acting.
33
Régnier said "an idea should be put under each
word, consequently leaving the thought time to
do its work. One should forget that a rôle is a
[
thing learnt by heart, and with that object give
oneself leisure to seek one's expressions as in an
ordinary conversation in which they don't
present themselves to the mind without one's
taking some trouble." A favourite simile of M.
Got is that pauses on the stage correspond with
atmosphere in a picture, for in the same way
that the effect of atmosphere in a painting
indicates the relative nearness of the objects and
gives reality to the scene depicted, so pauses in
an actor's delivery, by giving the impression that
he is thinking before he speaks, make his
utterance seem living and real. A frequent
exclamation during the lesson is "Too quick!
too quick! put some atmosphere into all that.”
It constantly happens on the stage that before
beginning to speak at all, one has to indicate
some feeling or idea which leads up to the first
words, and as Dupont-Vernon remarks, the
thing is self-evident when the first word of a
sentence is one involving a mental reservation,
such as a "but," a "however," a "nevertheless," etc.
I
34
The Art of Acting.
I think it was George Eliot who wrote "Speech
is but broken light upon the depths of the
unspoken." But upon the stage every possible
means must be taken to light up these depths,
and the use of gesture and facial expression is to
let in more light than can be obtained from the
words alone.
Apropos of this I remember seeing the late
Mr. Horace Wigan rehearsing with some pupils
the ((
screen scene" in "The School for Scandal."
He himself was taking the part of Sir Peter for
the moment. It was the point where Lady
Teazle has just run behind the screen while
Joseph has thrown himself into a chair with his
back to the door, and pretends to be buried in a
book. Sir Peter enters, and before saying his
first words "Aye, there he is, ever improving
himself," he gives his hat and sword to the
servant, and stands for a few seconds lost in
admiration of the studious Joseph, "the man of
sentiment." Wigan was going through this
preliminary "business" very deliberately, when
the pupil who was holding the book proceeded
to give him the first words without looking up.
The master turned sharply, and said sarcas-
The Art of Acting.
35
:
!
tically, "Don't be in such a hurry to prompt me,
my boy! I don't spit out all my words as if I
had learnt them out of a book."
I have heard Got remark that there is always
some important line in a rôle which brings out
the real nature of the character. So in his
instruction there is one leading idea which is a
sort of key-note to which he frequently reverts.
He always wants his pupils to master the
general idea of the scene, and, to use a scientific
term, endeavour to "visualize" it and bring its
movement before their mind's eye, saying,
.66
Imagine the scene! If you don't see it you
can't paint it, c'est notre métier de figurer les
choses." This idea of the importance of clearly
picturing to oneself the scene, strongly advocated
by Coquelin as the foundation of success in
either reciting or acting, and insisted on by
Legouvé as even essential in reading aloud, has
two functions. It not only aids the performer
to grasp the situation fully and to put a living
picture before the eyes of his audience, but it is
also the only sound method of committing to
memory. Legouvé writes: "Do not occupy
yourself at first with the words; take account
36
The Art of Acting.
}
of the composition of the piece and of the
movement of the ideas : notice whence the
author sets out, which way he passes, whither
he arrives. Impress on your mind, if I may
thus express myself, the architecture of the
page in such a manner that its general lines are
drawn in your memory and become fixed there
as a kind of framework, before you proceed to
learn the words." I have heard Got remark to
a pupil, who had been complaining of want of
time to master a part, that he could not expect
to learn it if he did not picture to himself the
movement of the scene. He urges, too, the
importance of reproducing the exact individual
imagined by the dramatist, and one often hears
"You don't enter into the skin of so-and-so.
You are not the personage; you have not his
bearing. He is (for instance) a dry, acute old
lawyer; you make him loud and noisy. Try to
see him; if you don't you can't put the proper
tones into your voice.". In confirmation of this,
M. Coquelin writes of his own method of
studying a rôle, "When I have to create a part I
begin by reading the play with the greatest
attention five or six times. First, I consider
The Art of Acting.
37
what position my character should occupy; on
what plane in the picture I must put him. Then
I study his psychology. Knowing what he
thinks, what he is morally, I deduce what he
ought to be physically, what will be his carriage,
his manner of speaking, his gesture. These
characteristics once decided, I learn the part
without thinking about it further. Then, when
I know it, I take up my man again, and closing
my eyes I say to him, 'recite this for me.' Then
I see him delivering the speech, the sentence I
asked him for he lives, he speaks, he
gesticulates before me, and then I have only to
imitate him."
Irving writes: "It will be found that the most
natural, the most seemingly accidental effects
are obtained when the working of the mind is
visible before the tongue gives it words.”
According to Talma "The actor must have the
art of thinking before he speaks, and, by
introducing pauses, he appears to meditate upon
what he is about to say. But his physiognomy
must correspond with the suspensions of his
voice. His attitude and features must indicate
that during these moments of silence his soul is
38
The Art of Acting.
1
deeply engaged: without this, his pauses will
seem rather to be the result of defective memory
than a secret of his art. The gesture, the
attitude, and the look, ought to precede the
words, as the flash of lightning precedes the
thunder." M. Got, too, frequently points out
that there are (for instance) three or four distinct
divisions or (C
plans" in a dramatic scene or
monologue as the case may be, and then requires
his pupils to show clearly to the eyes of the
audience these changes of idea, or fresh move-
ments by a preliminary gesture or change of
position before beginning to speak, saying,
Wait, then! Act then! Don't be in such a
hurry to speak; the 'new departure' in the
scene was not clearly enough marked." Many
other eminent authorities might be quoted in the
same sense, and we may, I think, conclude that
amongst all great actors a universally accepted
rule of dramatic art is that any fresh idea or
change of " movement" in the dialogue should
be first announced to the eyes of the audience by
expression of countenance, gesture, or change of
position.
Got always wants his pupils to play well
The Art of Acting.
39
together and help one another, observing that
"Nothing is easier than for an actor to spoil the
effect of a comrade by some slight meaningless
movement even of his little finger before the
latter has made his effect and which just distracts
the attention of the audience at a critical
moment." According to Coquelin, "If you
allow your look to become inexpressive, wander-
ing, uninterested in what is being said or done,
the public is put at fault and does not know
what to make of things. 'Hallo! he is not
listening...What is the matter with him?...He
is looking at the audience...At whom is he
looking?...That lady there in the third box on
the left...Now he is looking at the flies... By jove!
is the scenery on fire?...And while the public
is making these reflections, what becomes of the
piece ? "
Got remarked one day at the Conservatoire
"Le Comédien est un être qui n'a pas d'ombre,"
and just as the artificial mode of lighting a stage
causes the actor to somewhat resemble phy-
sically Peter Schlemihl, the unfortunate hero of
Chamisso's story who had sold his shadow, so
morally, the audience should never be left in the
40
The Art of Acting.
dark as to his thoughts and feelings, and should
constantly be able to read in his eyes and
movements the impression that is being made
upon him by the words and actions of all the
other characters. In the description of a lesson
by the late M. Régnier, which appeared in the
Paris Figaro, some pupils are rehearsing a scene
from "Les Précieuses Ridicules," when the
master exclaims-"What are you doing there,
you little puss? You seem to be waiting for the
moment to speak before you wake up. As soon
as Mascarille opens his mouth you should
forget that you are Mdlle. Z-
You are
Madelon, and your duty is to listen. Ah! I
know well, nothing is so difficult as
to listen, it
Put into it
You don't
is more difficult even than to speak.
all your attention, all your ability.
act for yourself alone; apply yourself to help
your comrades. Nothing facilitates the task of
an actor like finding in the eyes of his com-
panions on the stage that attention which is a
sort of mute response. The speaker should
perceive clearly that what he says makes an
impression on you. In one word it is essentia
that there should be a close connexion between
The Art of Acting.
41
all the actors in the same scene. And yet, while
constantly keeping up your by-play, don't try
to absorb the attention of the public to the
detriment of your comrades. To pull all the
clothes to oneself, to seek to shine alone, to
confiscate all the effects to one's own advantage,
is a bad action, a disloyal action. It is unworthy
of the name of art, and a true actor should be
above such meanness.
"And stay, let me recall a personal reminis-
cence, and relate to you the lesson I received
from Mdlle. Mars fifty years ago...No it is
really only forty-eight; don't let me make
myself out older than need be!
"Mdlle. Mars was to play at Versailles in
l'Ecole des Vieillards' for the benefit of a
writer of that day. She sent to ask me if I
would take the part of Danville.
I was young,
and she was a little distrustful of my ability.
When she received my acceptance she made me
promise to be at the theatre in good time in
order to rehearse with her. On the appointed
day I arrived at two o'clock; no Mdlle. Mars...
I went for a turn in the park and returned to the
theatre...Mdlle. Mars?...She is not come yet...
1
42
The Art of Acting.
Another turn in the park...followed by many
others. The afternoon slipped away in goings.
and comings, Mdlle. Mars only arrived just in
time for the performance.—I was in despair, and
was in a state of emotion, of fear...I can hardly
describe! But, from the moment of stepping on
the stage, she helped my task so much by the
interest that she seemed to take in listening to
me; I saw so clearly the effect that my words
produced on her; her features reflected her
thoughts with such truth and eloquence, that
in spite of myself I was led to give its true
emphasis to every word. I gave that day to my
rôle a sense which I had never before discovered,
and I acted as I had never acted before."
Coquelin says somewhere, "To recite means to
distribute the plane surfaces and the reliefs, the
light and the shade. In other words reciting
is modelling." An idea illustrated by the follow-
ing anecdote which appeared recently in a de-
scription of Worms' class at the Conservatoire :-
"A scene from one of Corneille's tragedies fol-
lowed, recited by a promising young student with
an interesting face and an excellent voice, who
spoke the lines with exquisite clearness of enun-
The Art of Acting.
43
ciation and melody of intonation. Worms lis-
tened, evidently pleased, at last, however, saying :
'Mon ami, you are a hard worker, and you study
perhaps too much if such a thing can be. You
take great pains to bring out every word, and to
give effect to each one.
produce no effect at all.
the mot de valeur, the
meaning of the whole rests. Bring that out
forcibly and the others will take care of them-
selves, only requiring to be spoken with clearness
and simplicity." As Legouvé says, there is in
each sentence some word which sums up its
meaning, and when found, the important point is
to distinguish it from the others, and, so to speak,
raise it in the midst of them like a lighthouse
which illumines its surroundings.
If you do this you will
In all periods there is
key-word on which the
It is of course understood that this throwing
into relief must be proportioned to the im-
portance of the word, and to that of the sentence
itself. All key-words have not the same import-
ance, but, slight or special, they play a part
which, well understood and rendered by the
actor, gives to his delivery a singular clearness
and force. Take, for instance, that point in the
44
The Art of Acting.
first 'quarrel scene' between Sir Peter and Lady
Teazle, when the former is trying to shame his
wife into being less extravagant by taunting her
with her inferior position before he married her :
"Yes, yes madam, you were then in a somewhat
humbler style-the daughter of a plain country
squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I first saw
you sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured
linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side,
your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your
apartment hung round with fruits in worsted...
of your own working." Which are the key-
words in this paragraph? Are they not those
which recall the plain and humble nature of
Lady Teazle's former life and occupations,
namely, plain, figured linen, bunch of keys.
smooth, in worsted, your own working, etc. Well,
emphasise sarcastically these words and the full
force of Sir Peter's meaning stands out. Well
what is true of sentences is also true, in a more
extended sense, of rôles. In illustration of the
importance of taking into consideration the whole
nature and disposition of the personage to be
represented, in searching for the key-words or
phrases in any particular rôle, may be instanced
The Art of Acting.
45
the two very similar scenes in Molière's The
Miser and Sheridan's Rivals, in both of which
an enraged father hurls a tempest of abuse on
his son's head, and in both of which, in the course
of a string of threats, occurs the phrase "I'll
disinherit you!" In taking these two scenes
alone there seems no special reason why this
particular threat should stand out more in one
case than in the other, but read by the light of
the different characters of Harpagon and Sir
Anthony Absolute, as pourtrayed in the whole
plays, it should evidently be given with infinitely
greater force in the first case than in the second.
What would be the most fearful threat of all
to a miser? and, as Coquelin remarks, Harpagon
is the concentrated essence of all misers. Is
it not "I'll disinherit you!"? while to the
choleric but kind-hearted Sir Anthony it is far
from having this supreme terror, and should be
subordinate to the final "Damn me ! if ever I call
you Jack again !”
I remember that once when I was having a
chat with the late Horace Wigan, the conversa-
tion happened to fall on some mutual acquaint-
ances, and that something he said caused me to
46
The Art of Acting.
remark that he seemed to have observed them
closely. "Ah! my boy," said he with a smile,
"It's my trade." Well, here we have referred to
the first, the indispensable, habit for an actor, to
whom the saying "Mediocrity can talk, but it is
for genius to observe" seems specially applicable.
It has been written of Edmund Kean: "His
fine power of perception, alive and susceptible to
the most delicate and evanescent characteristics
of humanity, was one of the greatest features of
his genius. Wherever he was, he was all eye, all
ear; everything around him, or wherever he
moved, fell within his cognisance."
Again, as regards Garrick, Mr. John Morley
writes: "In some of the last pages that he wrote,
Burke refers to his ever dear friend Garrick, dead
nearly twenty years before, as the first of actors,
because he was the acutest observer of human
nature that he had ever known."
M. Dupont-Vernon in his interesting treatise
"L'art de bien dire" urges upon his pupils the
importance of acquiring the habit of consciously
observing oneself, and of listening carefully to
others. He says: "How many varied inflexions,
The Art of Acting.
47
เ
how many delicate and subtle shades of tone one
finds in chatting without thinking and precisely
because one is not looking for them. Well, it is
necessary to accustom oneself to remember these
inflexions of familiar conversation as one remem-
bers an easy tune: one listens to them with care
and applies them afterwards with judicious dis-
cernment." Or, as Coquelin puts it, "It is one
of the necessary qualities of the actor to be able
to seize and note at once anything that is capable
of reproduction on the stage, but that must be
avoided which is purely individual, and that
retained which is characteristic of the type to
be represented." The art of acting is a very use-
ful and a very difficult one, but it is, as Samson
called it, an art of execution. The actor's artistic
function is secondary. The higher flights of
imagination involved in the creation of characters
are the work of the poet and dramatist, but
when, as Coquelin points out, the actor has
grasped the intention of the author and the
meaning of the character he is to represent, all
his past observation of the human race ought to
enable him to call up before his mind's eye a
typical portrait, accurately representing in bear-
48
The Art of Acting.
髯
​ing and dress, in gesture and tone of voice, an
exact and living portrait of the character imagined.
by the author.
"Pour peindre la nature il faut la bien connaître ;
Er. tout temps, en tous lieux, il faut la consulter ;
La consulter encore et puis la méditer."
As regards sensibility on the stage, or the de-
sirability for an actor to realise, on each occasion
of playing, the actual state of feeling of the per-
sonage to be represented, there are two opposing
factions. One party contends that an actor
should always enter into the emotions of the
character he is personating, should always, and
before everything, feel. A view held by some
eminent actors, and which Goethe seems to sup-
port when he writes: "In declamation you must
put off your natural character, deny your own
nature, and transport yourself into the situation
and mood of him whose rôle you act, so that you
may feel every emotion as he felt it." The other
party, whose side of the question is so amusingly
argued by Diderot in his classical "Paradoxe sur
le Comédien," and whose most convinced living
advocate is perhaps M. Coquelin, is characterised
by profound dislike of sensibility, and urges that
in order to produce the finest and most uniform
The Art of Acting.
49
acting, every tone and every movement should be
the result of close observation, used with artistic
skill, and in perfect self-possession, to produce the
desired effect. Diderot writes: "The great actor
watches appearance; the man of sensibility is his
model; he thinks over him, and discovers by
after reflection what it will be best to add or cut
away. He has listened over and over again to
his own voice: at the very moment when he
touches your heart he is listening to his own
voice: his talent depends, not as you think, upon
feeling, but upon rendering so exactly the out-
ward signs of feeling that you fall into the trap:
he has rehearsed to himself every note of his
passion: he has learnt before a mirror every par-
ticle of his despair......In complete absence of
sensibility is the possibility of a sublime actor."
And according to Coquelin, "Even when the
public, carried away by his action, conceives the
actor to be abandoned to his passion, he should
be able to see what he is doing, to judge of his
effects, and to control himself-in short he should
never feel the shadow of the sentiments to which
he is giving expression, at the time that he is re-
presenting them with the utmost power and truth."
50
The Art of Acting.
Again, Talma the great tragedian of the revo-
lution period expresses himself in the same sense;
and M. Lemercier, of the French Academy, re-
lates the following anecdote of Molé, the eminent
actor of the eighteenth century, which points in
the same direction: "The triumph of Molé was
the Jaloux sans amour. I saw him in this part.
I heard him in the scene in which he renders all
the transports of a furious love...I experienced
the most lively emotion, and when the curtain
fell I ran to congratulate him in his dressing-
room. 'Well,' said Molé, 'I am not satisfied
with myself this evening; I gave myself up too
much and did not remain my own master; I
entered too deeply into the situation; I was the
actual personage and no longer the actor who re-
presents him. I was true, as I should be in pri-
vate; for theatrical optics, one must be so in
another fashion. The piece will be acted again
in a few days; come and see it once more, and
post yourself close in front in the 'wings'.
was punctual, as you can well imagine. At the
moment when the famous scene commences,
Molé turned towards me: 'I am quite master of
myself this time,' said he to me; 'you will see
I
The Art of Acting.
51
the difference!' And, I must admit, never did
art and preparation more profoundly move an
audience."
Well, in endeavouring to arrive at some de-
finite opinion on this subject, I am disposed to
come to the conclusion that although a capacity
for emotion and sympathy with human nature is
certainly necessary to guide the actor in pre-
paring a rôle requiring the expression of deep
feeling, yet that, to quote M. Régnier once more,
"To keep one's head, while appearing to give up
one's heart, is the secret of good actors." The
line of Boileau, "To make me shed tears, you
must cry yourself," is an axiom absolutely false.
If an actor sheds real tears on the stage, he will
become suffocated, strangled by sobs, and his
voice will no longer have the accent which the
expression of the emotion requires. As M.
Guizot sums up the discussion, "To successfully
depict a passion, it is certainly necessary to be
capable of feeling it, sometimes even to have
actually experienced it; but to feel it at the very
moment is not necessary, and often does harm
instead of good." But beside the question as to
whether genuine emotion on the stage is good or
52
The Art of Acting.
bad art, comes the question of wear and tear for
the actors, and one cannot help thinking that if
it were necessary for great tragedians, such as
Sara Bernhardt, Salvini, or Henry Irving, to be,
night after night, in a state of mind even ap-
proaching that of some of the characters they
represent, that, with the finest constitution in the
world, they would be unable long to stand the
nervous strain.

¡
CHAPTER IV.
The Cure of Stammering.
IN
N various works on this subject elaborate
definitions are given of distinctions between
stammering and stuttering, most of which
require a somewhat minute acquaintance with
the mechanism of speech to understand. Thus,
to take two modern scientific treatises on the
voice, namely, "Voice, Song, and Speech," by
Messrs. Browne and Behnke, and "The Hygiene
of the Vocal Organs," by Sir Morell Mackenzie.
In the former it is stated that " a stammerer can
vocalize a sound in his larynx, but is unable to
regulate his tongue, palate and lip-opening so as
to form that sound into a distinct vowel." While
in the latter it is observed that "stammering
may be due to inability to control the action of
the vocal cords sufficiently for phonation, or it
may be the result of spasm of the diaphragm
54
The Cure of Stammering.
which renders it impossible to send an air blast
up to the glottis," thus showing an entire
divergence of opinion between these two
eminent authorities, and this is merely one
instance of disagreement in a subject on which
almost every author attaches a different meaning
to the words, and has a separate explanation for
the phenomena. I will, therefore, preface my
remarks on this subject by observing that I
shall include here under the general name of
stammering, all merely functional derangements
of any part of the apparatus actively employed
in the production of speech and characterized
by abuses in the use of lungs, larynx, tongue,
lips, or jaw, which vary with the mental or
physical condition.
My experience of this complaint is that a
great variety of counsel is offered to sufferers by
professional and amateur advisers about what to
do when the fit comes on; how to articulate, and
especially how to regulate the breath, some of
which would be very good if one could only
obey it; but the worst of it is that when the
nervous conditions which generally induce
stammering are present, the will has usually no
1
The Cure of Stammering.
55
control over the erring organs, and any directions
about how to regulate them are much like telling
a person suffering from the palsy to keep per-
fectly still. In the great majority, however, of
even very bad cases, the sufferers are almost or
even quite free from their complaint when alone.
Stammering in singing is almost unknown.
Many people who stammer badly in ordinary
conversation are free when acting or in public
speaking. Others are only free when on horse-
back, and the late Charles Kingsley who
stammered in conversation, but not in the pulpit,
used to say that he could speak for God, but
could not speak for himself.
Most stammerers, then, are conscious that a
wrong habit and a right habit of speech exist in
them side by side, and are respectively in
possession of the field accordingly as certain
exciting causes of stammering, generally
nervous, are present or absent. Well, all these
occasions when the exciting causes of disorder
in the vocal organs are absent, are so many
opportunities for re-enforcing the right habit, and,
by the conscious modification and enlargement
in the action of all the voluntary muscles, to
1
1
56
The Cure of Stammering.
bring them more directly under control. Let
the stammerer then prize every time and cir-
cumstance of freedom from his enemy, to
strengthen and perfect the use of his organs of
speech. "Great is drill," as Emerson says,
"The power of use and routine-against the
spasm of energy we offset the continuity of
drill."
In this respect the organs of voice are very
like an army, and it is only the veterans that
have been drilled together for many a long year
that can be relied on never to suffer from panic.
The plan here advocated, is on the principle
that indefatigable practice in drill and gymnastic
exercises, if I may so call them, of the various
organs, will SO strengthen the automatic
co-ordination which takes place in natural
speech that at last it maintains its sway under
what were the previously upsetting nervous
conditions. What we also have to do from this
point of attack is, as the late Dr. Hunt
remarked, "To speak consciously as other men
speak unconsciously"; and the best way to do
this is to continuously direct the will to regulate
on a slightly exaggerated scale for a time, all
The Cure of Stammering.
57
the voluntary actions of breathing and articu-
lation, which combine to produce speech.
Before all men, the stammerer should take up
this difficult and fascinating art of speech with
enthusiasm, determined to become a great public
speaker, actor, or barrister, as his taste may
direct, and, remembering Shakespeare's line,
“'Tis said best men are moulded out of faults,"
adopt if possible some profession in which
exceptional powers of speech will aid him in his
career, so that in all the drudgery that will
probably be necessary before he completely
masters his difficulty, he may at any rate feel
that he is killing two birds with one stone. I
have in the first chapter quoted some obser-
vations upon articulation drill by the late
M. Régnier, which are the basis of the following
directions for practice, and which I have found
personally of great utility.
The stammerer should stand in an easy, erect
attitude before a looking-glass, so that he can
use his lungs fully and at the same time see
clearly what he is about. He should then
imagine that he is striving to convey his words
to a deaf person who can only comprehend by
58
The Cure of Stammering.
:
reading with the eye from the movements of the
organs of articulation. He must set himself to
make the complete gesture, so to express it, with
the tongue, lips, and jaw necessary to mould
each sound on as large a scale as possible, while
at the same time carefully regulating the breath.
He should thus carve out, so to speak, each
word, syllable by syllable, exaggerating the
required movements, and acting, in fact, on Lord
Bacon's advice, "To bend nature as a wand to
the contrary extreme in order to set it right.”
This kind of articulation drill will not only
render the organs supple and strong in their
action, but by the constant direction of the will
to enlarge and perfect their motions, it will bring
them at all times more directly under its control.
Lord Chesterfield wrote to his son, "You will
take care to open your mouth when you speak ;
to articulate every word distinctly. You will
even read aloud to yourself and tune your
utterance to your own ear; and read at first
much slower than you need to in order to correct
yourself of speaking faster than you ought."
The best practice is in the open air. Let the
stammerer learn and recite passages from the
The Cure of Stammering.
59
great poets and dramatists while walking on
lonely hills or by the sea shore like Demosthenes,
of whom Samson wrote :-
Et le voilà qui court, en récitant des vers,
Sur la cime des monts, sur la plage des mers.
practising on the largest and firmest scale of
articulation he can compass, while keeping the
lungs well filled and principally employing the
middle register of his voice.
Let him also avail himself of those physical
exercises which tend to expand the lungs and
steady the nerves, such as boxing, fencing,
cricket, rowing, etc. Charles Kingsley wrote,
"Very few people, except the most highly-bred
women or practised public speakers, use their
lips freely, fully, and correctly," and thus
describes the delivery of some great barrister
addressing the court, "Watch him how he sets
up his chest defiantly, stoutly, and calls a full-
toned word up out of its depths, and catches it
in that great unctuous cup of that loose lower
lip, and rolls it about there genially, lovingly,
till every atom of every consonant has told upon
your ear."
A capital description of the right
sort of model for a stammerer to copy.
I
6.0
The Cure of Stammering.
remember once being advised by a worthy
professor of elocution not to practice for more
than a quarter of an hour twice a day for fear
of overtiring myself. Why, with a sound con-
stitution, and above all a proper use of lungs
and larynx, there is not the slightest reason why
most people should not practise for three or four
hours a day. What is the advice of the great
masters of any art of execution? Is it not at
least four hours a day just to get a perfect
command of the instrument whatever it may
be? And the stammerer must resolve to spare
no labour to make himself a very first-class
performer on the organs of speech. He must
not be satisfied with a dilettante smattering of
elocution, but strive to acquire a profound
knowledge of all the rules which have led to the
success of the great masters of what the French
call "Le Métier de Diction," and he will also
find that the habit of reading aloud and
reciting daily is good for the general health as
well as
a useful means of intellectual cul-
tivation.
In thus advocating as much consciously
directed exercise of the organs of speech as
The Cure of Stammering.
61
possible, I am of course aware that the amount
which can be taken profitably, varies with each
individual. The aim should be to avoid over-
fatigue, and to keep within the limits of the
recuperative powers of
of the system. Mr.
Herbert Spencer remarks that, "Up to a certain
point appliances are needful for results, but
beyond that point results decrease as appliances
increase." So up to a certain point the waste of
tissue in nerve and muscle resulting from
exercise of the vocal organs is replaced by
newer and stronger material, but beyond that
point strength diminishes as exercise increases,
and this point can be decided best by each
individual for himself.
1
While, however, devoting much attention to
strengthening right habit so that it may become
equal to every emergency, we must not neglect
another point of attack on the enemy. This is
to develop as much possible in the patient's
mind imperturbable steadiness and self-possession
by means of what has been called 'Psychical
treatment. As the late Dr. Hunt, however,
observed, "It is impossible to lay down any
precise rules in regard to the psychical treat-
62
The Cure of Stammering.
ment of the stutterer, for it is clear that it must
be adapted, not merely to the intellectual and
moral capacity, but also to the temperament of
the patient. The sanguine, the phlegmatic, the
choleric, and the nervous stutterer, require each
the application of a different method. The
great object, however, in all cases, is to impart
to the patient mental tranquillity and self-
control." Let him, too, as soon as possible, take
opportunities of appearing before an audience in
any capacity, in order to acquire confidence and
self-possession. It is a curious fact that many
people who stammer badly while they preserve
their own identity, remain themselves, are per-
fectly free in acting, in spite of extreme nervous-
ness. When the curtain is up and they are
representing somebody else, there is often not
a trace left of the impediment.
In this chapter I have endeavoured to give
some of the results of my personal experience in
fighting one of the most persistent functional
disorders that attack humanity. If ever there
was an antagonist likely to teach a man patience
and the value of the saying, "It's dogged as
does it," it is certainly this same habit of
The Cure of Stammering.
63
stammering. Hardly anyone comes victorious
out of the conflict without having to say with
Lancelot, "Thrown have I been, nor once but
many times,” and fortunate are those who in the
end can add like him, "Victor from vanquished
issues at the last, and overthrower from being
overthrown."


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