RESERVED.
|322.7
ºtt'ſ

ON STAGE EFFECT.
*...* The name of Edward Mayhew having appeared
with a paper in Bentley's Miscellany of the
present month, the writer of this Treatise
avails himself of the opportunity to state, he
has no claim to any article in the current
number of that highly popular periodical.
ST A G E E FF E C T :
OR,
THE PRINCIPLES WHICH COMMAND
D R A MATIC SUCCESS
IN THE
T H E A T R E.
--~~~~
...~~~
By EDWARD MAYHEW.
LONDON :
C. MITCHELL, RED LION courtT, FLEET STREET.
M, DCCC, XL.
TO
R. H. H. O. R. NE, E S Q.
THIS LITTLE WORK
IS
%Delicated,
As A TOKEN OF ADMIRATION OF HIS DRAMATIC GENIUS.
CONTENTS.
Page
INTRODUCTION *- gº tº-º * gº 11
ON STAGE EFFECT - &_º gº gº tºº 37
THE UNITIES, - º gº &= gº 39
'ON THEATRICAL SITUATIONS gº - 43
of scENES, DRESSES, PROPERTIES, DOGS,
HORSES, ETC. tº º tºº {- 57
OF PLOT, ACTION, ETC. * * E- &= 71
of THE CHIEF THING IN A DRAMA tº 87
INTRODUCTION.
INTRODUCTION.
It were an act of treachery to write any
thing intended to promote a dramatic taste,
if it were thought possible the legal oppres-
sion of the drama could much longer con-
tinue. So long as that shall be permitted
to continue, he who writes a drama is
sacrificing time to disappointment.
What can any author hope from the
patent theatres, when the fact is notorious
that a dramatist, one who in the best days
12 INTRODUCTION.
would have won the title—Mr. Jerrold—
has had a play completed for more than
a twelvemonth, which is yet denied to the
public? There is no desire to blame indi-
viduals for this: the author of these pages
is wholly unacquainted with the facts.
He is to believe this strange withholding
was controlled by circumstances—but must
not those circumstances be under an un-
healthy influence 2 Mr. Jerrold's new
play is said to be in five acts. The form
of composition announces it his maiden
effort to the production of legitimate dra-
mas of the highest class. Had he devoted
his labour to any easier and less meritorious
kind of theatrical literature, his known
ability would have commanded its produc-
INTRODUCTION. 13
tion at some one of the theatres. What hope
then is there to stimulate younger minds,
when a gentleman who has risen through
all the degrees of his art, who has passed
through the fiery ordeal of the minor
stage, who is the very first of the order he
has hitherto graced and elevated—when a
proved dramatist thus strongly recom-
mended cannot obtain hearing, what hope
is there to stimulate younger minds to the
study of the legitimate drama?
The encouragement should be propor-
tioned to the difficulty of achievement, but
in the drama, the maxim is reversed.
Too clearly has this been proved, and
too long has this been the case, for the cause
to lie in any one man's caprice. It must
C
14 INTRODUCTION,
control the circumstances, which under every
change of managers are still the same.
Where the result never varies, it is fair
to conclude the cause is fixed; and there is
nothing fixed in the drama but the strange
laws which give freedom to the baser, but
circumscribe, bind up, and imprison, under
hard gaolers, the moral and the higher.
As the right of granting patents appears
to be no longer claimed by the crown, it may
not now be disrespectful to inquire whether
it was not an undue exercise of the royal
prerogative, which granted to two favourites
the perpetual copyright in a branch of
national literature, and assigned to their
wills and interests the labours of a class.
A patent in all other arts is a protection
INTRODUCTION. 15
afforded the discoverer of some improve-
ment, or the inventor of some benefit; but
even then the protection is limited by time.
The holders of the theatrical patents
have invented nothing, —have improved
nothing; but their grants are assumed to
be eternal
The property claimed by the holders of
these patents, in all the best plays in the
language, is equally at variance with every
law of copyright.
But the most flagrant, the most irritating
power conferred on the persons to whom
these unheard-of rights were granted, and
to their heirs and assigns, was that which
made them masters over all dramatists
present and to come; gave them a property,
16 INTRODUCTION.
as distinct as that the owner exercised over
his slave, in the works of genius; and, for
no merit on their parts, no fault on the
others', made them masters, judges, and
tyrants over the professors of an intellectual
art: for the dramatist was in existence
before these patents were thought of; he
earned his food by his labour, and his art
was as much a calling—as much a means
of subsistence—as that practised by the
painter, or the lawyer or physician, at the
present day.
After providing for the public safety, to
regulate the laws which affect labour is the
duty and highest authority vested in the
collective Parliament. It matters not what
shape that labour may assume. To control
INTRODUCTION. - 17
or take away the natural property every
man is born possessed of in his abilities,
is a power solely vested in the collective
Parliament.
Was it not an undue exercise of the
royal prerogative, which arrogated to one
estate a power, which the constitution de-
clares to exist only in the three conjoined?
What had the dramatist done, that he
alone was deprived of the common right
of legislative protection? Why was he
considered, like the Jews of old, the pro-
perty of the crown? Nay, worse; why,
when all others are exempted, is bigotry
to be upheld as just, when perpetuated to
his ruin 2
Some may say the present field is large
C 2
18 INTRODUCTION.
enough, and the general race of dramatists
are beneath protection. But low as these
may be; open as they are to sneers—and
every print teems with them,-they are
better, higher, more intellectual, than they
are sanctioned in being by the strict letter
of the law. If the highest drama, deserted
and oppressed, is less than it ought to be,
the minor drama is far greater than it has
a legal authority for in its licence.
What a proof is this of the innate moral
aspirations of the drama: coupled with the
fact, that when it was free, it produced
works which are too high for praise, and
too vast for description; how it encourages
the hope of its revival, if the present dis-
graceful and grinding laws were removed !
INTRODUCTION. 19
Formerly, there were many theatres;
now there are many theatres. Theatres
are not prescribed. The difficulty of ob-
taining legal sanction for the exhibition of
an innocent and intellectual amusement is,
perhaps, greater than it should be; but it
is not insurmountable. The patents are
only maintained as inviolable—are only
combated for as chartered rights, where
they give to two traders an unconstitu-
tional property in the labours of a class.
Theatres are not, but dramatists are, pro-
scribed.
The reason for extending the number of
theatres urged by gentlemen who pretend
—for surely none can have reflected and
believe—the patents to be valid, legal in-
20 INTRODUCTION.
struments, is the increase of population,
and consequent natural necessity for addi-
tional places of amusement. The demand
admitted, what reason is there for com-
pelling a spurious supply 2 The drama
has increased equally with the population.
When these tyrannous patents were first
unconstitutionally granted, tragedy and
comedy were a vestal pair. When they
had but two houses—when these were
thought sufficient for their residence—these
were their undisputed homes. Since then
they have become corrupted, and each has
now a host of noisy illegitimate offspring;
and each of these claims a part of the space
which originally was thought the smallest
the drama could possibly exist in. Grant
INTRODUCTION. 21
this (and it cannot be denied), and every
separate form of theatrical exhibition—
melo-drama, spectacle, farce, burletta,
comedetta, extravaganza, burlesque, pan-
tomime, ballet, etc.—is an argument for
giving vent to the crowded and unhealthy
atmosphere in which the national drama is
languishing to death.
Yet these patents are said to be protec-
tive The plea of protecting is never so
open to suspicion, as when it is made the
pretence for lavishing unprecedented pri-
vileges on favoured individuals.
Who or what do they protect? They
are the servants of the crown, but the
crown will not trust in their protection.
The chamberlain and the licenser are its
22 INTRODUCTION.
appointed officers, to protect the state from
injury from these patents, which are said
to be in their natures protective. Public
morality is not guarded by their establish-
ment. With these patents began the
licentiousness of the theatre; and at this
time the only permitted market-place for
prostitution in England, is the saloon of
the theatre.
Most of all, is the dramatist stripped of
protection by these patents. It is not sup-
posed that the injury of the dramatist was
the deliberate intention of the monarch,
who called these cruel grants into exist-
ence. It was his duty to have cared for all
his subjects; but the probability is, he
never thought, in his desire to confer
favours, on the consequences of his Act.
INTRODUCTION. 23
Before these patents were invented, the
dramatists of England were a body of
authors that a nation might boast of to the
world. At the time these things were
conjured up, there was in existence a race
of men whose works are glories to the
literature of the country—Lee, Farquhar,
Otway, Rowe, Dryden, Congreve, Crown,
Wycherley, Lansdowne, and many others.
The age which next succeeded was more
poetical, more philosophical, more inclined
to literary pursuits. It possessed every
quality required for the drama, in a greater
degree than the preceding; but is conspi-
cuous for an all but total absence of dra-
matic emulation. The first and immediate
result of the patents, was the annihilation
24 INTRODUCTION.
of the dramatist. The men who were
living when these patents were put forth,
died, and their places were not supplied by
the next generation. Nay, shortly after
the granting of these patents, one dramatist,
whose works still hold possession of the
stage, perished of actual starvation. Otway
was so reduced by poverty, that, when a
crust was given to him in charity, his
appetite was beyond self-control, and madly
endeavouring to swallow the bread without
mastication, he was choked.
The necessity of keeping the markets
open for the encouragement of arts, is well
understood; but where the artisan is pro-
verbially poor, this is life to him. The
patents did not merely circumscribe these.
INTRODUCTION. 25
Hard enough would the injury have been,
had it been enacted, that, in two places
- only, the dramatist should ask a reward for
his toil. But these made it imperative on
him, under fine and penalty, that to two
persons only he should offer the work by
which he must subsist; and to these two
persons they gave powers tantamount to a
compulsion of sale. If the dramatist refused
their terms, or disputed their judgments,
and in his own vindication dared to publish
his drama, the patentees could seize on it
as their property, make what use of it they
pleased, deform it, alter it, and play it
for their advantage; and the author was
not entitled to one farthing of the profit
brought to the theatre by the performance.
D
26 INTRODUCTION.
The livelihood of every dramatist in
England laid at the mercy of two men;
and these men not chosen for their merit—
not selected for their qualities, elevated
without any regard to their abilities or
their honesty.
The legislature have recently done a
partial justice, and the copyright of the
drama is now the property of the author.
To Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer, who
brought their sufferings before the Parlia-
ment, and advocated them with a zeal and
feeling which obtained their remedy, every
dramatist owes a lasting debt of gratitude;
and the public are little less indebted to
him for his advocacy in the cause of their
favourite literature, of which he has since
become one of the chiefest supporters.
INTRODUCTION. 27
Yet it is but partial charity to give
nourishment to the lips, when the disease
is left in the body. The cancer is the
patents, and unless these be extirpated, the
life must be consumed.
The legislature have recognised the
acting copyright of a drama to be the pro-
perty of its author; but it is obvious that
the right can be created only by the per-
formance of the drama. The hope is shewn,
but the facilities of realizing it are not
increased. The body of dramatists are
still subject to the wills of two individuals,
and there is no provision enforcing even
this limited competition.
The two patent theatres have been rented
by the same lessee; and this gentleman
28 - INTIRODUCTION.
published his predilection for opera and
spectacle.
Last season the management of Drury
Lane was exclusively operatic. Both
theatres were open under separate pro-
prietors, but the dramatist of tragedy and
comedy had but one house where he could
offer his production. -
This season, up to the present date
(Christmas), the company at Drury Lane
is combined for the representation of
musical pieces.
The lessee of Covent Garden is under-
stood to be devoted to comedy.
At the time this is written, there is, in
no patent theatre, a set of actors that would
justify the manager in accepting Othello,
2 * * *
• * ... * * * * * * * * *
. ~ * * * * *
tº
*6 ſº
* tº
INTRODUCTION, 29
had Shakspere lived, and but newly written
that tragedy.
Desirous of avoiding every allusion that
could point to existing interests, it is due ,
to accompany this statement with the
author's belief, that the lessees of the
patent theatres have availed themselves
liberally of every opportunity to render
their management effective.
It is not presumed to dictate their taste;
but the dramatist has a just and heavy
complaint to raise against a law that allows
a body of men—the bread and hope of an
intellectual profession—to be wholly and
entirely dependent on the chance taste of a
single individual. w
If there is a national complaint,-one in
D 2
30 INTRODUCTION,
which men of all tastes, of all politics, have
joined,—it is the decline of the drama.
The complaint would not have been made,
had not the evil been regretted; and the
regret is proof of a desire for improve-
ment. The public have shewn their -*
willingness to encourage the drama during
the last season at Covent Garden, which
was a memorable one in the annals of the
stage. The press has always been liberal
in its observation on theatrical amusements;
but lately it has devoted more than ordi-
nary care, and displayed an improved
attention in its critiques. Thus fostered
by public encouragement, and guided by
the press, it remains only to excite a higher
emulation among dramatists; and the first
INTRODUCTION. 31
step towards doing this, must be the giving
power for its being exercised—the extend-
ing the licence to “all theatres to perform
the best dramas they can obtain.”
The capabilities of the present race of
dramatists, it is humbly thought, are much
underrated. The shackles imposed by
farce and melo-drama, force a comparative
inferiority of composition; but in these two
descriptions of dramatic writing, the present
age may compare with advantage to any
that has preceded; and when distance shall
enable a cooler judgment, perhaps this age
will be as much admired for its talent in
this species of dramatic writing as that of
Charles the Second for a certain kind of
comedy. Yet, be that as it may, the body.
32 iNTRODUCTION.
of dramatists are most unjustly condemned
for not producing a form of drama which
the law has laid under restrictions equal to
a prohibition.
Only cursorily have the injuries of the
dramatist been glanced at. His case, pro-
perly stated, must fill a volume. The
reader is earnestly solicited to peruse a
pamphlet on “The past and present State
of Dramatic Art and Literature,” which
the Times justly characterized as eloquent;
in which both the feeling and the fact of
the subject is embodied, and from which he
will derive instruction on the philosophy
of dramatic composition, as well as infor-
mation on the history of patents, which is
clearly and forcibly exposed. The subject
INTRODUCTION. 33
is beginning to attract attention. The
Introduction to a new edition of Schlegel's
Lectures enthusiastically asserts the exist-
ence of a high dramatic spirit, widely spread
over the present age; and a series of papers
has appeared in the Sunday Times, under
the title of “Dramatic Prolusions,” in which
the history of the stage is condensed and
divested of its pedantry, and evidence on
evidence produced of the pernicious and
destructive tendency of the patent mono-
polies. When essays like these appear in
prints intended for general circulation, it
* They have since been reprinted in a more portable
shape, in a neat volume, under the title of “A Brief
View of the English Drama, from the earliest Period
to the Present; with suggestions for elevating the
Present Condition of the Art, and its Professors. By
F. G. Tomlins.” Fcap. 8vo., price 4s. -
34 INTRODUCTION.
raises the brightest anticipation of the
approach of a better order of things, from
the proof it gives of public interest in the
question.
Every writing that can help to form or
strengthen his opinion, is of importance to
the dramatist, whose confidence must abide
in his own judgment. The decisions of
the lessees of patent theatres are shewn to
be worthless, by their barbarous mutilation
of Shakspere's works, and the losses incurred
by repeated failures. They mangle the
perfect; and though quickened by interest,
want discernment to reject the utterly
worthless. That ignorance must be dark
indeed, which cannot perceive the extremes
of the art it professes.
INTRODUCTION. 35
To supply a vacancy in literature which
has been much felt, and of which the want
has lately been specially pointed out by a
very able weekly paper,” the following
essay was attempted. Little beyond the
elucidation of the first broad principles is
aimed at in its pages. These, however,
have neither been easily learned, nor hastily
promulgated; and they must be fully
recognised before the finer laws can be
adduced. They are not insisted on as
unassailable. Many will, doubtless, be
open to exception; and some, probably,
when rigidly tested, may be found to want
foundation. All the author can advance,
is, his present belief in their truth, and his
* The Spectator.
36 INTRODUCTION.
desire to establish some principle, in the
place of the hap-hazard guess which now
seems to decide the fate of the dramatist.
ON STAGE EFFECT.
ON STAGE EFFECT.
THE UNITIES.
THE drama, being a creation of art, must
be subject to certain rules; but before
endeavouring to point out in what these
consist, it may be best to dismiss those
which were found essential to the Greek,
but are foreign to the English drama—the
unities of time, place, and action.
Understanding the word unity in the
sense in which Aristotle used it, and if it
be of any value it can be but in that sense,
40 THE UNITIES.
a singleness, an oneness, admitting of no
infringement. There can be no unity of
action in a drama, whose construction re-
quires and enjoins two plots; which fre-
quently has more than two, and even
allows several distinct kinds of entertain-
ment to be mingled in the same play, as
in the Merchant of Venice, in which there
are three plots—the interest with Shylock
being tragic, with Bassanio comic, and
Lorenzo operatic.
Of time, the unity is violently opposed
to the principles of the English drama,
whose aim is rather to compress a history
than to enlarge an incident.
Doctor Johnson has answered the unity
of place; and it is difficult to comprehend
THE UNITIES. 41
what an author can hope for in foregoing
the advantages of variety, when his audi-
ence are both educated, and desirous to
follow him through every change of scene.
In proof of how entirely the principles
of unity are opposed to those which regu-
late the English drama, may be advanced
the fact, of there being but one acting play
in which those of time and place are not
violated, and not one in which the unity
of action is maintained.
ON THEATRICAL SITUATIONS.
RESERVING for after notice some other
of the classic laws, which with more reason
have been insisted on, there remains a
modern theory to be discussed, namely,
that dramatic success is dependent on situa-
tions.
This theory was originated in the theatre,
and to judge fairly of its value, we must
inquire what is meant by the situations in
a drama 2 .
They cannot mean action: that word
is obsolete among actors, but is expressed
y
by them in the term “business;” and no
44 O N THEATR, ICAL
one acquainted with our stage will assert
that the “business " and “situations ° of
a play are synonymous.
To theatrical minds the word “situation”
suggests some strong point in a play likely
to command applause; where the action
is wrought to a climax, where the actors
strike attitudes, and form what they call
“a picture,” during the exhibition of which
a pause takes place; after which the action
is renewed, not continued; and advantage
of which is frequently taken to turn the
natural current of the interest. In its
purposes it bears a strong resemblance to
the conclusion of a chapter in a novel.
To illustrate this, without appealing to
any of the numerous melo-dramas, which
SITUATIONS. 45
might be thought of not sufficient weight,
The School for Scandal offers a point none
will deny to be one of the most effective
situations in the whole range of the drama.
Near to the conclusion of the fourth act,
Joseph Surface's character is detected, by
his brother in a frolic overthrowing a screen
and discovering the lady to Sir Peter Teazle.
What a scene would our elder drama-
tists have built on this event? How in
their hands would the uncle have taught
the audience, prepared to receive instruc-
tion? How would the country girl have
risen above her fashionable follies in her
repentance, and as the heart of the audience
answered to the moral? But the elder
dramatists knew nothing of situations.
46 ON THEAT It ICAL
They took a story for their plot, often paid
too little attention to its propriety, but,
having adopted it, they kept straight on,
and bore it to a triumphant end. When
the screen falls, Charles starting back,
cries, “Lady Teazle, by all that's wonder-
ful!” Joseph re-entering at that moment,
adds, “Lady Teazle by all that's horrible!”
which Sir Peter brings to a climax, by
exclaiming, “Lady Teazle by all that's
damnable !” When this has been said
there is a pause; each of the performers
remaining statue-like in the attitudes they
assumed when the above expressions were
uttered; after sufficient space has been
allowed for admiration of “the picture,”
Charles turns the interest (for if the spec-
situations. 47
t
tators are interested at all, they can hardly
be ludicrously affected by an event which
seriously affects the fortunes of all the
characters present) by bursting into laughter
and treating the incident as a jest. He
triumphs over his brother in his prostra-
tion; twits his uncle, without respect for
his age or his affection; even makes the
lady's humiliation a subject for his mirth,
and departs full of merriment at the con-
fusion he has created. He being gone,
the fashionable woman of six months teach-
ing, delivers a pretty speech, nicely pointed,
teeming with clever turns and artful pauses.
Nature never conquers her self-possession,
sorrow never mars her propriety of ex-
pression. She turns on her deluder, works
48 O N THEATRI UAL
on her husband's weakness, and at the
proper moment retires. Joseph, the prac-
tised hypocrite, shews more feeling than
his better dupes. He is confused; but, to
keep up his stage character, he has re-
5 9
course to “the man who ,” and the
audience laugh; while Sir Peter, twice
betrayed, in his dotage and his trust, every
feeling outraged—Sir Peter, a gentleman
and a moralist, who can speak with severity
almost amounting to rudeness, on lesser
occasion, descends to violence and hurries
from the scene, vociferating, “Damn your
sentiment, damn your sentiment!”
No man ever was better acquainted with
the stage and its capabilities, than the
author of “The School for Scandal.” In
SITUATIONS. 49
such matters he is the highest authority.
But lest any should think a single instance
has been strained to a particular purpose,
it may be well, before quitting the subject,
to shew that Shakspere has been lowered
by the actors to this kind of “effect.”
Turning to the great author's works, we
read that Othello, scene the third, act the
second—requests his chief officer to per-
sonally inspect the watch, and retires to
make good the night with the fair Des-
demona ; but, disturbed by a brawl brought
about through the artifice of Iago, re-
enters to demand the cause, when the
quarrel being continued in his presence,
a flagrant breach of discipline—and per-
sisting in spite of his command to desist—
the General becomes enraged. F
50 ON THEATRICAL
This appears good. The action seems
stirring and continued. It is difficult to
find any cause for alteration, as it is im-
possible to suggest an improvement.
Enter OTHELLO and ATTENDANTs.
Oth.—“What is the matter here !”
Mon.—“I bleed still; I am hurt, but not to th’
death.”
Oth.—Hold for your lives.
Iago.—“Hold, ho Lieutenant, Sir, Montano,
Gentlemen:
“Have you forgot all place of sense and duty?
“Hold. The General speaks to you; hold for
shame.”
Oth.—Why, how now, ho? Whence ariseth
this?
SITUATIONS. 51
On the stage the passages marked by
inverted commas are dispensed with ; and
the whole stands thus in the acting editions
of the play.
Oth.—Hold, for your lives.
Why, how now, ho? Whence arises this?
The reader will remember the scene in
the theatre represents a court-yard. In
the centre, at the extremity of the stage,
is an archway, through which Othello re-
tires. When the brawl takes places, there
is of course some noise: the clashing of
swords—Iago's entreaty to the combatants
—the alarm bell, etc. This noise increases
till Othello appears, and, standing with his
sword drawn immediately under the arch-
G
52 ON THEATRICAL
way, brings all to a climax by shouting
at the top of his voice “Hold for your
lives" at which instant Montano receives
his hurt, and staggers into one corner.
Cassio, conscience stricken by the sound
of his General's voice, occupies the other.
The rest of the performers put themselves
into attitudes—the stage is grouped—and
a picture formed, of which the Moor is the
centre figure. After this there is a pause;
when Othello, having looked around him,
walks forward, and the half exclamation of
Why, how now, ho 1 whence ariseth this 2
becomes an inquiry.
The action is not only injured, but the
conduct of the fable materially deteriorated.
A drunken man enraged, and a “noble
SITUATIONS. 53
swelling spirit,” provoked by insult and
smarting with an ignoble wound, act more
naturally, disregarding command. Iago's
artful remonstrance, “Have you lost all
sense of place and duty?” suggesting to
Othello,
“What, in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brim full of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel?
In night, and on the court and guard of safety?”
seems necessary for the understanding of
the plot, even if his active interference
before the General be of no importance to
it; and the General's fitness for command
is lessened, if, having witnessed no part of
the offence, he, on a slight and hasty in-
vestigation, deprive himself of the services
F 2
54 ON THEATRICAL
of his chief and chosen officer. But it
risks nothing to assert, no drama can attain
excellence framed for the display of situa-
tions. That a piece abounding with this
kind of effect, may be written to be highly
attractive on the stage, is proved every
day: how far these alone can render its
theatrical success secure, will be a matter
for after investigation; but as (however
esteemed by actors) situations are always
shifts to avoid difficulty, or tricks to con-
ceal weakness, the author, who is content
to use them as a means to obtain popularity,
must be placed (no matter what outward
shape his work may bear) in the lower
caste of dramatic literature.
If none of these, the only rules or
SITUATIONS. 55
principles yet promulgated, or generally
received, hold good, where is the secret of
dramatic success to be learned?
In his works, which have hitherto been
studied chiefly to point out defects, and
shew where he violated rules, which were
at war with his design.—In the plays of
Shakspere, his later plays, when genius,
having been matured by a life of observa-
tion, he was able to produce a drama which
has outlived the changes of time and man-
ners, and bears no sign of injury, after
having been exposed to the blunders of
printers, the carelessness of editors, the te
denunciation of critics, the frivolity of com-
mentators, the barbarisms of the theatres,
and the ignorance of actors. It is from
56 ON THEATRICAL SITUATIONS.
his works the following principles have
been adduced, mingled with some gene-
ral facts gained from experience in the
theatre.
OF SCENES, DRESSES, PROPERTIES, DOGS,
HO I, SES, ETC.
*===st
A drama ought to be independent of such
aids; that it may be read with interest;
or recited before a green curtain, and
nevertheless be listened to with pleasure;
but it does not follow therefore, that an
author should despise the advantages tO
be derived from a judicious use of the
properties and scenes of the theatre. The
interest must be intellectual; yet on the
stage the imagination of an audience, some
of whom will be naturally dull, may be
58 OF SCENES,
stimulated by the introduction of such ac-
cessories. Falstaff's figure, Bardolph's nose,
Launce's dog, to such as are of capable
fancies, can never perhaps be perfectly
realized; but there are others, who are
only entertained when the objects are
bodily presented to their view, and who
have no previous conception whereby to
test the sufficiency of the assumption.
Properties should always be quiescent.
It argues a want of perception to make
them actors, or to entrust them with action;
for, if this is done with an appearance of
success, such things invariably distract the
attention, by claiming applause separate
from the real interest of the scene; besides
which, they are apt to be ludicrously un-
DRESSES, ETC. 59
real, or so much the contrary as to stand
away from the general truth.
To make this more clear, let us imagine
some incident in a piece depends upon the
appearance of an eagle. To heighten the
effect, the author describes the terrible
aspect of the bird and kindles the fancy of
the audience; immediately on which the
property-man lowers his stuffed effigy of
the creature; which, though it shall be
an admirable resemblance, and shall move
its head and flap its wings, must obviously
have so little the appearance of life, that
the actors shall stand apart from it. On
the other hand, living animals have too
strong a sense of reality to blend in with
the scene. The actor's art consists chiefly
60 SCENES,
in forgetting his personality, and assuming
a character and feeling foreign to his real
one,—a delusion these simple creatures are
incapable of abetting him in. The player
may take on, but the horse is an honest,
bona fide horse, without any love for hy-
pocrisy; he will snort when the prince is
talking, will make the canvass trees give
way to his curvetings, and though a whole
army may be perishing in a desert, he will
look sleek and comfortable, and persist with
his hoofs that the ground is made of wood.
Animals, however well trained, perform
their parts with so much composure, that it
has the appearance of ludicrous condescen-
sion, and places the performers in a mise-
rable contrast. All the vanity and frivolity
DRESSEs, ETC. 61
of the stage is made apparent by the test
of reality, and the reason is provoked into
criticism upon the meanness of, as it were,
so gross an attempt at actual deception.
Properties should be quiescent. It is
true Shakspere, in one of his earliest plays,
has introduced a dog. Yet, if caught at aS
a license, the reader must observe, this
is done, first, in the comic portion of the --
drama; and secondly, in such a manner,
that however badly the animal might be-
have, the effect would only be heightened.
Next in practical importance to the pro- -
perties, are the scenes of the theatre. An
author will best please the painter, and
certainly consult his own interest, by
studying variety in his directions; not
G
62 SCENES,
confining his incidents to chambers, but
occasionally introducing streets and land-
scapes.
There are but three different kinds of
scenery; known by the terms, drops or
cloths, flats and set scenes. The rest, as
wings and side pieces, (houses, bowers,
rocks, etc., which, when a change takes
place, are pushed on and joined to the
wings,) being adjuncts. Formerly, the
chief part of all stock scenery consisted of
drops, as is still the case in most country
theatres; but these are now seldom used
in London, flats having superseded them;
except close to the procenium, where they
are lowered, when any extraordinary space
is required to display the scene which is to
follow.
DRESSES, ETC. 63
Further from the foot-lights than the
middle of the stage, flats are seldom used,
the remaining half being devoted to set-
scenes, which, in the painter's and manager's
estimation, are the first kind; and a piece
is generally cared for by the theatre in
proportion to the number of set-scenes
bestowed on its production. Any scene,
however, written “A Palace,’ ‘A Cottage,’
can be made a set scene; but there are
some which cannot be well represented in
any other form—those wherein any part is
required to be practicable; as staircases
down which the characters have to descend;
bridges, across which the actors have to
pass, etc.; or where machinery is necessary
to aid the effect, as torrents, waves, etc.;
64 SCENES,
and in general all, which are other than a
picture on a flat surface, may be reckoned
Set-Scenes.
It was once desirable an author should
so construct his plot, that flats and set-scenes
might alternate one the other; and this,
for authors not intimate with the theatre, is
still a good plain rule, though the improve-
ment of machinery now enables the car-
penter to work several set-scenes consecu-
tively; but it needs some acquaintance
with the capabilities of the theatre to do
this with effect, and the accidents and
delays, common on the first nights of pan-
tomimes, are cautions not to be disregarded.
There are two terms frequently occurring
in stage directions, “discovered” and ‘closed-
DRESSES, ETC. 65
in,'—the importance of which it may be
necessary to explain.
‘A Discovery’ is where the act-drop
ascends and shews a party at tea, etc., or a
front scene is drawn aside, and a council,
etc., seen behind it. Some depth of stage
is usually given to scenes in which these
occurrences take place; because, unless
the footmen are sent to clear the stage (a
practice now disapproved of), the chairs
and tables must be ‘closed in,’ or shut from
view, by the scene which follows; therefore
in no instance ought a set-scene to follow
one in which there is “a discovery re-
quiring these ‘properties.” Neither should
a death take place in a front scene, unless
it be the ending of an act, or the action is
G 2
66 SCENES,
directed so as to remove the body—for the
footmen would not look well walking away
with the corpse.
Concerning traps, etc., no directions can
be of any value, the carpenter of the
theatre being the only person who need
study these mysteries. Let the author
give his imagination free scope, and he
can hardly write directions which cannot
be fulfilled.
It may be well, before leaving this part
of the subject, to endeavour to ascertain
the value of scenes and properties to an
author. Actors and managers regard these
aids very proudly; and for ‘the getting
up of a piece,’ often assume the merit of
its success; forgetting the many yearly
DRESSES, ETC. 67
• brought out, with lavish expenditure, which
are condemned on the night of their pro-
duction. Though a weak piece, especially
of the melo-dramatic cast, may gain support
from the splendour of the accessories, the
fact proves, that no help an author can
obtain from the theatre will render a bad
drama successful. He should never sacri-
fice his feeling to suggestions from the
management, by cutting for this effect, or
elongating for that. Above all, he should
never write what are called carpenters-scenes
—little scenes of dialogue introduced to
give time for mechanical arrangements.
To have his piece performed, is but a
means—the end is its success. His inte-
rests are those of a theatre. But vanity is
68 SCENES,
more powerful than interest; and nothing
is more common than to sacrifice the author
rather than inconvenience the carpenter.
Actors are too apt to look on authors as
people who need their instruction, and to
resent, as obstinacy, any resistance to the
theatrical laws which regulate the scenes
and properties. The worth of their sug-
gestions will be easily ascertained, by con-
sidering the effect such aids to a drama
have on the minds of the audience. No
art can give reality to the scenes. Reality
is only acknowledged when the reason is
convinced; and in the theatre, the instant
the reason questions, illusion ceases. Spec-
tacle is a toy to amuse the senses, and,
through them, lull the reason. Scenes,
DRESSES, ETC. 69
also, have other uses; they spare long
passages of mere description, and may be
rendered suggestive. This is their highest
merit. It seems ‘as gross as ignorance
made drunk,’ to talk of their giving reality.
Illusion can only be perfected through the
feelings. All really feel with Lear; but
who ever felt for scenes and properties?
Stanfield's art excites admiration; Brad-
bury's ingenuity claims applause; each in
his province pleases our sensations,—but
it is in the passion only, the drama is a
'reality; and it has justly fallen into con-
tempt, in proportion as it has lowered its
power for the exaltation of its inferiors.
7|
OF PLOT, ACTION, ETC.
IN the classical drama, plot is considered
of the first importance, and in every drama
it must be material; though in the English
by no means the “be all and the end all.”
Hamlet and Julius Caesar may be quoted
as instances of dramas being highly popular,
the plots of which few will deny to be
theatrically defective. Perhaps before an
author should think himself able to dis-
pense with the assistance derived from a
carefully developed fable, he should be
conscious of the strength of him who has
overcome the difficulty. However, in the
English, as distinct from the classical
72 OF PLOT,
drama, plot or fable is not of the first im-
portance.
As regards the kind of plot most desi-
rable, it does not appear that any rule can
be laid down, our stage permitting even
history to be heightened by imagination;
and repeated instances have occurred of
fables which one author has failed to make
endurable, being rendered attractive under
the conduct of another,
The best plot for every author is that
which most vividly excites his imagination.
Nor can any rule be established for working
the plot. Some have said, Bring the
interest to a climaa at the end of the fourth
act, as in the Merchant of Venice. Others
have advocated strengthening the third and
ACTION, ETC. 73
fifth acts, as in Othello ; and again, it has
been thought good to bestow the greates
attention on the second and last, as in Mac-
leth. But it seems more reasonable that
these points should be regulated by the
incidents, rather than the incidents should
be forced to conform to any rule, however
good it may have been found in a parti-
cular case.
Action is distinct from plot, inasmuch as
a play may have continued action without
any plot, or be defective in the action and
yet perfect in the plot. The author de-
sirous of success, must never disregard
action, which is more essential on the stage
even than dialogue; for there are many
kinds of theatrical amusements without
H
74 OF PLOT,
dialogue, but no species of dramatic repre-
sentation, from tragedy to monopologue,
without action.
Of late years a fear has arisen among
those who write for the higher or legitimate
drama, of corrupting their pieces by the
violence of the action, or rendering them
melo-dramatic. This fear springs from
a want of consideration, and was unknown
to the elder dramatists. A melo-drama is
defective in action, possessing too little
rather than too much; for it is brought
only to a certain point called a situation,
and there interrupted. In this view, the
fourth act of ‘The School for Scandal’ is
melo-dramatic. To cover their deficiency
of action, melo-dramatists give an undue
ACTION, ETC. 75
and irregular importance to the scenes and
properties of the theatre; and their pro-
ductions abound in “effects, without the
aid of which the interest evaporates.
In Shakspere's plays the action is always
continued. Various arts are used to assist
it. In the quieter parts, where the action
is naturally slow, numbers are generally
introduced to give what the actors graphi-
cally term “bustle' to the scene; customs
are often illustrated; nor were masks,
songs, and dances considered by him ille-
gitimate helps to supply the deficiency.
All actors feel sensibly the importance
of action in a drama. Those who are
acquainted with these gentlemen will have
heard them expatiate on ‘John Kemble's
76 OF PLOT,
business,’ ‘Kean's business,” etc. in parti-
cular parts. Business is all an actor can
truly originate: for this he feels more than
the pride of an author; and it is a high
privilege claimed by “the leading man' to
conduct ‘ his own business’ in such scenes
as he may be engaged in, – to him the
stage-manager bows! Some few may study
‘points’ and ‘new readings,’ but ‘the
business of the stage’ is the ambition of
all. To be versed in this leads to office;
and all may aspire to be stage-managers,
though many may feel their powers unequal
to their wishes, in the more popular pro-
vince of their profession.
The reverence for continued action is
the secret of the success which commonly
ACTION, ETC. 77
attends pieces written by gentlemen of the
theatre, and authors who, from intimacy
with the green-room, have imbibed ‘ac-
torial’ sympathies. Seldom novel in their
construction, though often evincing great
ingenuity and fancy, in the manner they
are conducted, these pieces generally con-
tain little that can be considered a mys-
tery, or worthy of being studied. ‘The
words’ (as the literary portion of a drama
is termed in the theatre) are, by these
authors, held of secondary importance;
and, to a certain point, their principle is
the true one, though, literally acted upon,
the higher qualities of the drama perish in
the womb. Till the plot is fully conceived
and planned into acts and scenes—and these
H 2
78 OF PLOT,
have been made complete by the addition
of action—every deed elaborated, every
movement understood; till this is clear in
the mind’s eye, – ‘the words’ should, if
possible, not be thought of as, out of the
action, the words should spring, — the glo-
rious child of no ignoble parent; for it is
not less difficult to conceive a characteristic
act or appropriate deed, than a poetical
image or passionate expression. No stage
education is necessary for the latter, nor
should be for the former; but if an author
feel the importance of action, there is no
reason why he should not write as success-
fully for the stage, as those in whom the
concocting of effects has been regarded
almost instinctive—alwavs bearing in mind
ACTION, ETC. 79
the direction written down should be bold
and decisive (elaboration may be safely
entrusted to the actors), or an author may
fall into a mistake, by supposing he has
directed action, when he has only suggested
motion. The dialogue may often guide
the scene; and where this can be done,
it should not be neglected. No one can
have read Shakspere's plays without feeling
how perfectly every scene is depicted; yet
on reference, how seldom is the action
found written down.
Without touching on literary composi-
tion, something must be said of stage effect
in this department of the drama.
Soliloquies should not be introduced
without preparation. As these usually un-
8() OF PLOT,
fold some secret, which could not be com-
municated in any other shape, there should
first exist a curiosity to know, or there can
hardly be supposed an attention to hear.
It is true Richard the Third begins with a
soliloquy ; but to judge correctly of this
instance, it must be remembered, that
tragedy was sequent to the three parts of
Henry the Sixth, and the recent events of
Richard's reign would, when the drama
was first performed, make the spectators
curious in all that concerned him.
A mere dialogue of two, is the easiest
and weakest form of dramatic composition.
Against this opinion the celebrated scenes
between Brutus and Cassius, and Othello
and Iago, will be readily advanced; but
ACTION, ETC. 81
these are strengthened by passion, and
they are scenes, rather than dialogues.
It is remarkable how cautious Shakspere
appears, never to entrust the stage to two
characters in the quieter parts of his drāas,
or where this was, from the nature of the
plot, absolutely necessary, with what care
he elaborates the poetry, and studies to
supply the consequent deficiency of action.
Of course the difficulty increases in pro-
portion to the number and variety of
characters to be supported; but the effect
remunerates the labour: and this is a dis-
tinctive mark between the English and
classic drama, in which there was few
performers, and the major part of the play
necessarily in dialogue.
82 OF Pilot,
Long passages occur in Shakspere's
works sustained in lines, and frequently
in shorter spaces; assertion and reply clash-
ing, as it were, on one another, giving a
life and activity to the scene. In society,
those conversations are most animated
where many join, and which none presume
to engross. The opportunities, when such
colloquies can be properly introduced,
should be sought after; and in all pieces
intended for the stage, the value of brevity
cannot be too highly estimated. A dra-
matist has many helps in the tone and
action of the performer, to aid his meaning;
in general his language is rendered more
dramatic, the more he calls these aids into
requisition; and lines, which are lost in
ACTION, ETC. 83
the closet, reading hard and almost ob-
scure, delivered on the stage sound clear
and copious. In direct opposition to this
principle of condensation is descriptive
poetry. Of this, the dramatist cannot
entertain too great a fear; for an audience
obviously visit the theatre to see acts per-
formed, not to hear them described. Be-
sides, it is apt to direct the attention from
the scene, by refering to incidents which
have taken place elsewhere. Perhaps
descriptive passages will occur in every
drama. But where the narration strongly
affects the characters present, so as to call
forth passion and create a counteracting
interest, is the fittest place for their intro-
duction. Even these may be in a great
84 OF PLOT,
degree avoided, by plotting the scenes so
as to display the events; which Shakspere
never fails to do, and for which he has
been much blamed by critics, who could
perceive no principles in the construction
of the English drama. Even Shakspere's
metre has not escaped the general censure.
To ears accustomed to the breadth of sound
in the classical versification, it would
naturally read not sufficiently marked, but
on the stage it is the perfection of expres-
sion. Rowe's more flowing lines, con-
tinued through five acts, become monoto-
nous: beside this rythm is liable to induce
length, and no act ought to much exceed
five hundred lines, something under four
hundred being the average for an acting
ACTION, ETC. 85
play. The first act of Hamlet extends
far beyond this limit, but Shakspere in
his strength cannot be looked upon as a
general authority.
87
QF THE CHIEF THING IN A DIRAMA.
*sºmºrº sº *sº
YET, in all that has been noticed, a play
shall be perfect, and notwithstanding fail.
Such matters are necessary, and the author
who has not attended to them, cannot
expect to see his production successful on
the stage. They possess a powerful nega-
tive influence. But the chief thing in a
drama is harmony. A play may possess
poetry, passion, and character; these may
be of the first class—each scene, read
separately, shall be perfect; but, unless-
these be in unison, every part blended,
forming one perfect whole, working for a
88 OF THE CHIEF THING
particular end—the hopes of success in the
theatre will not be realized.
Harmony is more essential than all else.
Those of Shakspere's plays most fre-
quently performed, possess it in a powerful
degree. The feeling of Hamlet has been
justly said to be anti-theatric—few visit
the playhouse to indulge in contempla-
tion. Others have said this drama was
unconnected, the wanderings of a mighty
mind. Among the actors, its success is a
mystery; they assert, if produced at the
present day it would be condemned, and,
forgetting how many of his plays are not
acted, attribute its popularity to the magic
of Shakspere's name. But there must be
reasons why this tragedy is preferred: they
IN A DRAMA, 89
may not be on the surface, or in the direc-
tion where the causes of success are com-
monly sought; but the reasons must exist.
Looking on Hamlet, we see him full of
meditation; and though he stands distinct
from all the characters that move around
him, yet are they in perfect colouring with
this, the principal figure. Ophelia in her
madness, Polonius in his dotage, even the
Clowns in the churchyard, each in their
appropriate manners, give utterance to
their reflections.
Turning from the characters to the in-
cidents, these are calculated to create the
feeling with which alone Hamlet would
accord. The opening of this play has
been eloquently dwelt on; but it has a
I 2
90 of THE CHIEF THING
further aim, than its poetical beauty or
immediate dramatic effect. The Witches,
without a line of preparation, begin Mac-
leth. Belief in such creatures was a part
of the orthodox faith when the play was
written, but the existence of spectres was
disputed. Still, though reason be strong,
though men persist there can be no such
thing as a ghost, and convince themselves
of their disbelief in apparitions; yet when
the subject is earnestly introduced, the
boldest become thoughtful. The earnest-
ness with which Shakspere has introduced
the incident, the intense belief he has
communicated to the events he has de-
picted, was calculated to entrap the feel-
ings of the most sceptical, to make them
IN A DRAMA. - 91
reflective, and then the play harmonized
with their humour.
Coleridge observed the unison of impulse
which actuated the characters in Romeo
and Juliet—not that this similarity of feel-
ing is imperative, save where the drama
has a decided tendency; but rather, that
the dramatis persona should be stirred by
motives likely to suggest the catastrophe
or purpose of the play—as Iago's envy and
Brabantio's unrelenting anger, prepare for
the jealousy and revenge of Othello. Yet
this unison of character does not insist on
the absence of variety, or even direct con-
trast. Lear in his madness wanders with
the past, while Edgar feigning, draws
wholly on his imagination. This is a
92 OF THE CHIEF THING
contrast, direct and glaring. But the
great master had too fine an eye to paint
piebalds; by the introduction of the Fool,
the two are united, and a perfect harmony
exists. Still it may be necessary to omit
much, which on the first view of a cha-
racter appears the principal feature, that
the harmony may not be disturbed; and
imply a truth which broadly spoken would
strike too harshly. Looking at Shylock,
in conjunction with the rest of the dramatis
persona in the Merchant of Venice, it will
be seen there is not one who could blend
in with the Jew—he seems alone; those
by whom he is surrounded have little
sympathy with him ; yet Shakspere has
made even Shylock mingle with the scene.
IN A DRAMA, 93
He comes upon the drama quietly, by
degrees only is his character unfolded.
For the intrigue against his home, and
outrage of his domestic feelings, aggra-
vated by taunts, his resentment comes
nearer to the general sympathy. Yet
then he pleads only to establish his claim
to humanity. Of his persecution he says
little, for his speech to Antonio in the first
act, is an appeal against personal insult.
But how much is implied by his mode of
arguing 2 Never boldly advancing a prin-
ciple, or asserting a truth in the presence
of those of contrary faith ! Shylock is ever
manoeuvring to trick his antagonist into
some admission by which he may gain a
point, whence to turn round and overcome
94 OF THE CHIEF THING
him. A mode of arguing in harmony with
his catching the merchánt with the “merry
bond.” Defending his usury, Shylock
begins by reminding Antonio that Jacob
was the third possessor, “ay, the third,”
from holy Abraham, of whose sanctity
both Jew and Christian were agreed—and
concluding that this nearness to the com-
mon source of hope has established the
righteousness of Jabob's acts, he advances
boldly to “and thrift is blessing if men
steal it not.” Nay, so confirmed is the
habit, that agony cannot break it. “If
you poison us, do we not die?” when
feeling the question can be answered but
in the affirmative, he adds, “And if you
wrong us, shall we not revenge? " * *
IN A DRAMA, 95
The villamy you teach me, I will execute;
and it shall go hard, but I will better the
example:” for throughout, when Shylock
imagines he has established his point, the
resolution of his character is evinced by
doggedly maintaining it. Nor must we
think this mode of speech natural to the
Jew, for in his home he is shewn an
austere man, speaking direct and with
authority.
What an habituating to oppression is
by this implied ! And in the thought of
an unstudied author, “what a scene of .
declamation has been sacrificed!” It has:
for none can doubt that such a scene from
Shakspere's hands would have been most
powerful; but the sacrifice was made upon
96 OF THE CHIEF THING
principle, and all must admire the judg-
ment which allowed it.
The reader will have perceived, that
harmony in a drama mainly consists in
striking a key-note, and tuning the after
events in concord with it; or never shifting
it without having prepared the minds of
the audience for the change. The first acts
of Shakspere's plays canont be too closely
studied. They are, undoubtedly, acts of
preparation, but in a sense so different
from the Greek rule, as never was contem-
plated when that law was recognised. They
are not simply a preparation for events,
but events preparing the minds of the
audience for other events. Lear's casting
off of his affection, prepares the mind for
IN . A D RAMA, - 97
the ingratitude of his children, which, un-
softened, would have appeared too unnatu-
ral: and the conduct of Goneril and Regan
is ‘carried off' (as artists call it) by the
utter depravity of Edmund. The Tempest,
a play of “masks, music, and magic,” would
be imagined so acceptable to the general
taste as to need no introduction; but it
begins with a scene on the deck of a ship
tossed by a storm; the place and time
where, even to this day, superstition is all-
powerful. Thus harmony includes what
has been insisted on as a separate rule,
namely, “the preparation for events,’ which,
if literally followed, renders a drama more *
correct than entertaining. Macbeth, seeing
the dagger previous to Duncan's murder,
K
98 of THE CHIEF THING
prepares for his fantasy at the banquet.
This is a higher stretch of art than two
gentlemen being sent on the stage to de-
claim about the new monarch's disordered
brain the very scene before the occurrence,
though the scene preceding the banquet is
one of preparation,-grossly marred in the
theatre.
Enter THREE Murtherers.
1. But who did bid thee join us?
3. Macbeth.
2. He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers
Our offices, and what we have to do
To the direction just.
Indicating the nervous uneasiness, and
preparing the mind of the spectator for
IN A DRAMA, 99
the disturbed imagination of the usurper.
The principle of one event heralding
another is a common-place in historical
writing, in which occurrences are repeat-
edly noticed to have prepared the public
mind for that which immediately happened.
The matter-of-fact preparation of the clas-
sical drama, is of no value on the English
stage. It is included in the conduct of
the fable, which requires that probability
should be provided for. It is not in the
preparation for events, but in the prepara-
tion of the feelings of the spectators for the
events, that the art lies. In the dialogue
between Malcolm and Macduff, the proba-
bility of a war in Scotland is made clear,
but this is received only as pleasant intel-
* *
&
* * * * * * *
&
_ ºn &
* *
*
:
:
9 *
r- * ...,
sº *
* *
* * * asº &
100 OF THE CHIEF THING
ligence. It excites no violent interest.
But when Macduff, after hearing of the
slaughter of his wife and children, prays to
be brought front to front with the fiend
of Scotland, the feelings are kindled, and
the audience prepared for the fifth act.
Having used the word probability, it
may be necessary to say, that, taken in the
every-day sense, it is no law to the English
drama. All required, is, that the play
should not jar on the imagination; if this
be cared for, all matter-of-fact probability
may be disregarded. The dramatist has
this and all other worlds to lay his scenes
in, and may call both men and spirits to
people them; only he must so use his art,
as never to place the convictions of his
IN A DRAMA. * 101
audience in opposition to his designs;
which will be easiest and most effectively
avoided by never violating their minor
prejudices. Conceding little matters, great
indulgence will be given him on points of
most importance. So, in the Greek tra-
gedy, time, place, and action being kept,
all other conventionalities appear, to an
English eye, to have been glaringly vio-
lated. They had the chorus intermeddling
between the stage and the audience; the
actors were padded, to make them look
gigantic; their faces were masked; their
movements were studied; and their voices
pitched to musical instruments: yet, the
minor points of reality conceded, the
whole, to the Greek, wore so much the
K 2
102 of THE CHIEF THING
appearance of life, that he was able to feel
with the scene.
- - Looking from authors to actors; it is
much to be lamented that the system for-
merly prevalent, of these gentlemen re-
maining long in their engagements;
forming, as it were, the families of differ-
ent theatres, is now wholly broken up.
Then they became familiarized with each
other's styles, and the effect of their per-
formances were not a little benefited by
the tone this gave to the picture. Nor is
the loss lessened by the method of conduct-
ing rehearsals at present. ‘The business
of the stage ’ is gone through ; the actors
are made to understand their respective
positions, and the movements of those with
IN A DRAMA. : : 103.
whom they are to appear; but the words’
are hurried over. The prompter holds
the book, while they say a lesson. How
the passionate passages are to be deliverer
cannot be guessed at. The consequence,
is, that the first night of a piece, when the
author has all at stake, is, in truth, the first
rehearsal. Many nights must pass before
the actors can become sufficiently sure of
their own intentions to be able to study
the manner of those who are with them in
the scene, and harmonize their styles fºr
the general effect. There are exceptions
to this remark, and they are the gentlemen -
who have been schooled in better days,
and who are now the supports of their pro-
fession.

LONDON :
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