19th Century Actor Autobiographies | Page 9

both act with
more effect by adhering to their own dogmas.
For myself, I know that I act best when the heart is warm and the head
is cool. In observing the works of great painters I find that they have no
conventionalities except their own; hence they are masters, and each is
at the head of his own school. They are original, and could not imitate
even if they would.
So with acting, no master-hand can prescribe rules for the head of
another school. If, then, I appear bold in putting forth my suggestions, I
desire it to be clearly understood that I do not present them to original
or experienced artists who have formed their school, but to the student
who may have a temperament akin to my own, and who could,
therefore, blend my methods with his preconceived ideas.
Many instructors in the dramatic art fall into the error of teaching too
much. The pupil should first be allowed to exhibit his quality, and so
teach the teacher what to teach. This course would answer the double
purpose of first revealing how much the pupil is capable of learning,
and, what is still more important, of permitting him to display his
powers untrammeled. Whereas, if the master begins by pounding his
dogmas into the student, the latter becomes environed by a foreign
influence which, if repugnant to his nature, may smother his ability.
It is necessary to be cautious in studying elocution and gesticulation,
lest they become our masters instead of our servants. These necessary
but dangerous ingredients must be administered and taken in
homeopathic doses, or the patient may die by being over-stimulated.
But, even at the risk of being artificial, it is better to have studied these
arbitrary rules than to enter a profession with no knowledge whatever
of its mechanism. Dramatic instinct is so implanted in humanity that it
sometimes misleads us, fostering the idea that because we have the
natural talent within we are equally endowed with the power of
bringing it out. This is the common error, the rock on which the
histrionic aspirant is oftenest wrecked. Very few actors succeed who
crawl into the service through the "cabin windows"; and if they do it is

a lifelong regret with them that they did not exert their courage and sail
at first "before the mast."
Many of the shining lights who now occupy the highest positions on
the stage, and whom the public voice delights to praise, have often
appeared in the dreaded character of omnes, marched in processions,
sung out of tune in choruses, and shouted themselves hoarse for Brutus
and Mark Antony.
If necessity is the mother of invention, she is the foster-mother of art,
for the greatest actors that ever lived have drawn their early
nourishment from her breast. We learn our profession by the
mortifications we are compelled to go through in order to get a living.
The sons and daughters of wealthy parents who have money at their
command, and can settle their weekly expenses without the assistance
of the box office, indignantly refuse to lower themselves by assuming
some subordinate character for which they are cast, and march home
because their fathers and mothers will take care of them. Well, they had
better stay there!
But whether you are rich or poor, if you would be an actor begin at the
beginning. This is the old conventional advice, and is as good now in
its old age as it was in its youth. All actors will agree in this, and as
Puff says, in the Critic, "When they do agree on the stage the unanimity
is wonderful." Enroll yourself as a "super" in some first-class theatre,
where there is a stock Company and likely to be a periodical change of
programme, so that even in your low degree the practice will be varied.
After having posed a month as an innocent English rustic, you may, in
the next play, have an opportunity of being a noble Roman. Do the
little you have to do as well as you can; if you are in earnest the
stage-manager will soon notice it and your advancement will begin at
once. You have now made the plunge, the ice is broken; there is no
more degradation for you; every step you take is forward.
A great American statesman said, "There is always plenty of room at
the top." So there is, Mr. Webster, after you get there. But we must
climb, and climb slowly too, so that we can look back without any

unpleasant sensations; for if we are cast suddenly upon the giddy height
our heads will swim and down we shall go. Look also at the difficulties
that will beset you by beginning "at the top." In the first place,