19th Century Actor Autobiographies | Page 7

crew I felt that all colloquial dialogue and commonplace pantomime
should cease. It is at this point in the story that the supernatural element
begins, and henceforth the character must be raised from the domestic
plane and lifted into the realms of the ideal.

To be brief, the play was acted with a result that was to me both
satisfactory and disappointing. I was quite sure that the character was
what I had been seeking, and I was equally satisfied that the play was
not. The action had neither the body nor the strength to carry the hero;
the spiritual quality was there, but the human interest was wanting. The
final alterations and additions were made five years later by Dion
Boucicault.
"Rip Van Winkle" was not a sudden success. It did not burst upon the
public like a torrent. Its flow was gradual, and its source sprang from
the Hartz Mountains, an old German legend, called "Carl the
Shepherd," being the name of the original story. The genius of
Washington Irving transplanted the tale to our own Catskills. The grace
with which he paints the scene, and, still more, the quaintness of the
story, placed it far above the original. Yates, Hackett, and Burke had
separate dramas written upon this scene and acted the hero, leaving
their traditions one to the other. I now came forth, and saying, "Give
me leave," set to work, using some of the before-mentioned tradition,
mark you. Added to this, Dion Boucicault brought his dramatic skill to
bear, and by important additions made a better play and a more
interesting character of the hero than had as yet been reached. This
adaptation, in my turn, I interpreted and enlarged upon. It is thus
evident that while I may have done much to render the character and
the play popular, it has not been the work of one mind, but both as its to
narrative and its dramatic form has been often moulded, and by many
skilful hands. So it would seem that those dramatic successes that
"come like shadows, so depart," and those that are lasting, have ability
for their foundation and industry for their superstructure. I speak now
of the former and the present condition of the drama. What the future
may bring forth it is difficult to determine. The histrionic kaleidoscope
revolves more rapidly than of yore and the fantastic shapes that it
exhibits are brilliant and confusing; but under all circumstances I
should be loath to believe that any conditions will render the
appearance of frivolous novices more potent than the earnest design of
legitimate professors.

THE ART OF ACTING
Acting has been so much a part of my life that my autobiography could
scarcely be written without jotting down my reflections upon it, and I
merely make this little preparatory explanation to apologise for any
dogmatic tone that they may possess, and to say that I present them
merely as a seeker after truth in the domain of art.
In admitting the analogy that undoubtedly exists between the arts of
painting, poetry, music, and acting, it should be remembered that the
first three are opposed to the last, in at least the one quality of
permanence. The picture, oratorio, or book must bear the test of
calculating criticism, whereas the work of an actor is fleeting: it not
only dies with him, but, through his different moods, may vary from
night to night. If the performance be indifferent it is no consolation for
the audience to hear that the player acted well last night, or to be told
that he will act better to-morrow night; it is this night that the public
has to deal with, and the impression the actor has made, good or bad,
remains as such upon the mind of that particular audience.
The author, painter, or musician, if he be dissatisfied with his work,
may alter and perfect it before giving it publicity, but an actor cannot
rub out; he ought, therefore, in justice to his audience, to be sure of
what he is going to place before it. Should a picture in an art gallery be
carelessly painted we can pass on to another, or if a book fails to please
us we can put it down. An escape from this kind of dulness is easily
made, but in a theatre the auditor is imprisoned. If the acting be
indifferent, he must endure it, at least for a time. He cannot withdraw
without making himself conspicuous; so he remains, hoping that there
may be some improvement as the play proceeds, or perhaps from
consideration for the company he is in. It is this helpless condition that
renders careless acting so offensive.

PREPARATION AND INSPIRATION
I have seen impulsive actors who were so confident of their power