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TALMA

ON

THE ACTOR'S ART.
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PREFACE.

     
  

EW things can be said about the stage at any
a) time, which will not excite controversy; but I
ya 2S think one of the few is, that the influence of the
; drama to-day is wider than it ever was. There
is a vast increase of playgoers; the intellectual interest in
the stage is steadily growing; and there is a general convic-
tion that the actor is placed in a position of trust which he
cannot worthily fill without a strong sense of responsibility.
Dramatic artists, as a rule, speak for themselves. Their work
is constantly before the public, and itis judged on its merits.
None the less is there a want of a permanent embodiment of
the principles of our art; a kind of vade mecum of the actor’s
calling, written by one of themselves, and by an artist
universally recognized as a competent expositor. Such a
work, in my opinion, is Talma’s Essay on the Actor’s Art,
the following translation of which was originally published in
“The Theatre” of 1877 at my suggestion.

No one can read Talma’s subtle yet simple description
of the qualities and the course of study essential to the
actor, without a conviction that acting is one of the most
fascinating of the arts. To the actor the whole field of
human nature is open. Whether in the ideal world of
the stage or in the actual world of social intercourse, his
4 _ Preface.
mind is continually accumulating impressions which become
a part of his artistic being. This experience is common to
the students of other arts; but the actor has this advantage,
that all he learns is embodied in his own personality, not
translated through some medium, like the painter’s canvas
or the novelist’s page. At the same time, this purely
personal art is subjected to the most severe tests. It is
easier to detect a flaw in an actor’s impersonation than an
improbability in a book. The man enacts the character
before mariy—a false intonation jars immediately upon the
ear, an unnatural look or gesture is promptly convicted by
the eye. The co-operation of sensibility and intelligence of
which Talma speaks, has thus to be conducted under the
most exacting conditions. There must be no suggestion of
effort. ‘’The essence of acting is its apparent spontaneity.
Perfect illusion is attained when every effect seems to be an
accident. If the declamation is too measured, the sense of
truth is at once impaired ; if, on the other hand, it falls only
the shadow of a shade below the level of appropriate expres-
sion, the auditors sympathy is instantly checked. “ The
union of. grandeur without pomp, and nature without
triviality,” is of all artistic ideals the most difficult to attain ;
and with this goal before him no actor can feel that his art
is a plaything.

The end of all acting is “to hold the mirror up to
Nature.” Different actors have different methods, but that
is their common purpose which can be accomplished only
by the closest study and observation. Acting, like every
other art, has a mechanism. No painter, however great his
imaginative power, can succeed in pure ignorance of the
technicalities of his art; and no actor can make much pro-
gress till he has mastered a certain mechanism which is
within the scope of patient intelligence. Beyond that,
is the sphere in which a magnetic personality exercises
a power of sympathy which is irresistible and indefinable.
That is great acting ; but though it is inborn, and cannot be
Preface. 5,

taught, it can be brought forth only when the ‘actor is master /
of the methods of his craft.

I am.conscious that no words of mine can add any weight .
to the lessons which are set forth with such earnestness and
brilliance in Talma’s pages: but I venture to emphasize
them by two golden rules: Let the student remember, first,
that every sentence expresses a new thought, and therefore
frequently demands a change of intonation ; secondly, that
the thought precedes the word.” “The actor should have
the art of thinking before he speaks.” “YOf course there are
passages in which thought and language are borne along by
“the stream of emotion, and completely intermingled. But
more often 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.

Henry IRVING.

22nd March, 1883. i

 
    
  

studies have been directed towards my calling,
the object of which is to afford at once pleasure.
§ ¢ and instruction.’ Tragedy and Comedy, the one
by the portraiture of virtue and crime, the other by the
exposure of vice or folly, interest us, or make us laugh,
while they correct and instruct. Associated with great~
authors, actors are to them more than translators. A trans-

lator adds nothing to the ideas of the author he translates.

The actor, putting himself faithfully in the place of the per- |
sonage he represents, should perfect the idea of the author of |
whom he is the interpreter’ One of the greatest misfortunes
of our art is, that ‘it dies, as it were, with us, while all other
artists leave behind them monuments of their works. The.
talent of the actor, when he has quitted this stage, exists no
longer, except in the recollection of those who have seen and
heard him. This consideration should jimpart additional
weight to. the writings, the reflections, and the lessons which
great actors have left; and these writings may become still
more useful if they are commented upon and discussed by
actors who obtain celebrity in our day. Doubtless it is this
motive which has induced the editors of’/the “ Mémoires
Dramatiques ” to request me to add to. the notice of Le Kain
»

8 Talma on the Actor's Art.

some reflections on his talent and on the art which he illus-
trated.

Le Kain had no master. Every actor ought to be his
own tutor. If he has not in himself the necessary faculties
for expressing the passions, and painting characters, all the
lessons in the world cannot give them to him. Genius is
not acquired. This faculty of creating is born with us; but
if the actor possesses it, the counsel of persons of taste may
then guide him; and as there is in the art of reciting verse
a part in some degree mechanical, the lessons of an actor
profoundly versed in his art may save him much study
and time.

Le Kain, from the commencement of his career, met with
great success. His début lasted seventeen months. One
day, after he had performed at Court, Louis XV. said, “This
man has made me weep,—I, who never weep!” This illus-
trious suffrage procured his admission amongst the French
actors. Before appearing with them he had acquired some
reputation at private theatres. It was in one of these that
Voltaire first saw and noticed him, and there commenced
his connection with that great man. 7

~~ The.system of declamation then in vogue was a sort of
‘ sing-song psalmody, which had existed from the very birth
‘of the theatre. Le Kain,—subjected, in spite of himself, to
the influence of example,—felt the necessity of breaking his
shackles, and the pedantic rules by which the theatre was
bound. He dared to utter for the first time on the stage the -
true accents of nature. Filled with a strong and profound
sensibility, and a burning and communicative energy, his
‘action, at first impassioned and irregular, pleased the young,
who were enchanted by. his ardour and the warmth of his
, abut, and, above all, were moved by the accents of his pro-
_ foundly tragic voice. The amateurs of the ancient psalmody
_ criticised him severely, nicknaming him “the bull.” They
did not find in him that pompous declamation, that chiming
and measured declamation, in which a profound respect for
Talma on the Actor's Art. :... 9

the cesura and the rhyme made the verses always fall in
regular cadence. His march, his movements, his attitudes,
his action had not that liveliness, those graces of our fathers,
which then constituted a fine actor, and: which the Marcels
of the age taught to their pupils in initiating them in the
beauties of the minuet. Le Kain, a plain plebeian, a work-
man ina goldsmith’s shop, had not, it is true, been brought up
on the laps of queens, as Baron said actors ought to be;
‘but nature, a still more noble instructress, had undertaken
the charge of revealing her secrets to him. {In time he
succeeded in overcoming the’ bad ‘taste which his inex- ,
perience had at first naturally thrown into ‘his acting. He
learnt to master its vivacity and regulate its movements, ,
yet he dared not at first entirely abandon the cadenced.
song Which was then regarded as the beau ideal of the art of
declamation, and which the actor preserved even in the)
burst of passion.

It was to this false taste that we must attribute the little
progress which costume had made in the time of Le Kain.
There is no doubt that he regarded fidelity i in costume as a
very important matter. We discover it in the efforts he

~ made to render it less ridiculous than it was at that period,
Mim fact, truth in the dresses, as in the decorations, contributes’
* greatly to the theatrical illusion, and transports the spectator
to the age and the country in;,which the personages repre-
sented lived. This fidelity, tod; furnishes the actor with the
means of giving a peculiar ah siogn =to each of his
characters.” But a reason en me con- |
‘sider as highly culpable the actors who neglect this part of |
their art.3 The theatre: ought to offer to youth in some
measure a course of living history ; and does not this negli-
gence give him entirely false notions of the habits and man- }
“ners of the personages whom the tragedy resuscitates ? I|
remember well that in my early years, on reading history, ‘*
my imagination always represented to itself the princes and
the heroes whom I had seen at the theatre. I figured to
10 Talma on the Actors Art.

myself Bayard elegantly dressed in a chamois-coloured coat,
without a beard, and powdered and frizzled like a petit maitre
of the eighteenth century. Czesar I pictured to myself highly
buttoned up in a fine white satin coat, his long, flowing locks
fastened with rosettes of ribbon. If in those days an actor
occasionally approximated to the antique dress, the simplicity
of it was lost in a profusion of ridiculous embroidery, and I
fancied that silks and velvets were as common at Athens and
Rome as at Paris and London. Statues, monuments,-and
ancient MS. adorned with miniatures, existed then as well as
now ; but they were not consulted. It was the time of the
Bouchers and the Vanloos, who took care not to follow the
example of Raphael and Poussin in the arrangements of their
draperies. It was only when Dayid appeared that painters
and sculptors, especially the younger of them, occupied
themselves, under his inspiration, with these researches.
Connected with most of them, and feeling the utility this
study might have for the theatre, I applied myself to it with
no common zeal; in my own way I became a painter. | I
had many obstacles and prejudices to overcome, but success
at last crowned my efforts, and without fearing an accusation
of presumption I may say that my example has had a great
influence over all the theatres of Europe. Le Kain could
not have surmounted so many difficulties; the time was not
come. Would he have dared to risk naked arms, the antique
sandals, hair without powder, long draperies, and woollen
stuffs? Such a toilet would have been regarded as very
offensive, not to say indecent. Le Kain did all that was
possible; he advanced the first step, and what he dared to
do emboldened us to do still more.

‘Actors ought at all times to take nature for a model, to
make it the constant object of their studies. Le Kain felt
that the brilliant colours of poetry served only to give more
grandeur and majesty to the beauties of nature. He was not
ignorant that persons deeply affected by the stronger passions,
or overwhelmed with great grief, or violently agitated by great
Talma on the Actor's Art. II

political interests, have a more elevated and ideal language ;
‘but that this language is still that of nature. ''Itis , therefore,
this nature—noble, animated, aggrandized, but at the same
time simple—which ought to be the constant object of the
studies of the actor, as well as of the.poet. "T have frequently
heard persons of authority state that tragedy is not in nature,
and this idea has been repeated without reflection until it has
become a kind of maxim. The world, occupied with other ob-
jects, has not sufficiently studied all the workings of the passions.
It judges too lightly, and indifferent authors and actors, who,
pay but little attention to their art, serve to accredit this
error. But let us examine any of the impassioned or political |
characters of Corneille and Racine. How often their language |
js at once simple and elevated! How pathetic and natural is
Voltaire when he is inspired bya passion ! It is not the negli- |
gence and carelessness of a vulgar conversation that we find |
in the beautiful scenes of those great poet{ It is the simple
language, the aggrandized but exact expression, of nature
itself, Let as examine from every point of view the exposi-.
tion and dénouement of Rotrou’s “ Vauceslas,” the fifth act of
“ Rodogune and Cinna,” the part of Horatius, the scenes of
“Agamemnon and Achille,” the parts of Joad, C&dipe, the
two Brutuses, César, the part of Phédre, Andromaque,
Hermione, &c. I defy any person to give them a finer or
more natural form of expression. Take away the rhyme,
and all these personages would have expressed themselves
in the same manner as in real life. It is the same with
some actors who have adorned the French stage, as Le Kain,
Malle. Dumesnil, Molé, and Monvel. It was only by a faith- |
ful imitation of truth. and _natyre that they succeeded in
creating those potverful emotions in an enlightened nation |
which still exist in the recollection of those who heard them.
Tt must, however, be confessed that, amongst the great actors of
all countries, only a few have sought after this truth, Molitre,
and Shakspeare before him, had given excellént lessons to
their brethren, the one in his “Impromptu de Versailles ”
12 Talma on the Actor's Art.

and the other in “ Hamlet.” How comes it, then, that in
spite of the advice of these two great masters, and no doubt,
of that of many of their contemporaries, the false system of
pompous declamation has been established in almost all the
theatres of Europe, and proclaimed as the sole type of
theatrical imitation? It is because truth in all art is what is
most difficult to find and seize. The statue of Minerva
exists in the block of marble, but the chisel of Phidias alone
‘can discover it. This faculty has been given to very few
actors, and mediocrity, being in the majority, has laid down
the law.

I may here be permitted to make an observation which
has been suggested to me by the great event of the Revolu-
tion, for the violent crises of which I was a witness have often
served me asa study. The man of the world and the man
of the people, so opposite in their language, frequently
express the great agitations of the mind in the same way.
The one forgets his social manners, the other quits his
vulgar fancies. The former descends to nature, the latter
‘femounts to it. Each puts off the artificial man to become
natural and true. The accent of each will be the same in
the violence of the same passions or the same sorrows.
Picture to yourself a mother intently looking on the empty
cradle of a child she has just lost: a sort of stupidity in. the
features, a few tears flowing down her cheeks at distant
intervals, piercing cries and convulsive sobs bursting forth
from time to time, will represent the sorrow of a woman of
the people the same as that of a duchess. Suppose, again,
a man of the people and a man of the Court to have both
fallen into a violent fit of jealousy or vengeance: these two
men, so different in their habits, will be the same in their
frenzy ; they will present in their fury the same expression ;
their looks, their features, their actions, their attitudes, their
movements will assume all at once a terrible, grand, and
solemn character, worthy in both of the pencil of the painter
and the study of the actor. And, perhaps, even the delirium
Talma on the Actor's Art. 13

of passion may inspire the one as well as the other with one
of those words,—one of those sublime expressions,—which.
the poet would conceive. The great movements of the soul
elevate man to an ideal nature, in whatever rank fate may

have placed him. \ The] Revolution, which brought so many
passions into play, has had popular orators who have
astonished all by sublime traits of untutored eloquence, and |
by an expression and accent which Le Kain would not have
been ashamed of. 6)
Le Kain felt that the art of declamation“did ngt consist
in reciting verse with more or less emphasis, an@”that this
art might be made to impart a sort of reality to the fictions
of the stage. To attain this end it is necessary t the actor
should have received from nature an extreme Sensibility and |
a profound intelligence, and Le “Kain possessed these quali-
ties in an eminent degree. Indeed, the strong impressions
which actors create on the stage are the result only of the al-
liance of these two essential faculties. I must explain what I
mean by this. ‘Tomy mind, sensibility isnot only that faculty
which an actor possesses of being moved himself, and of affect
ing his being so far as to imprint on his features, and especially
on his voice, that expression and those accents of sorrow
which awake all the sympathies of the art and extort tears
from auditors. I include in it the effect which it produces, ~
the imagination of which it.is the he source, —of}that i imagina-_
tion which consists in having -Teintitiscencés, so that the
object seems actually pre present (this, properly speaking, is only
memory);-but that’ imag Imagination which, creative, active, and
powerful, consists in collecting in one single fictitious object
the qualitieyof several real objects, which associates the actor
with the inspirations of the poet, transports him back to the
past, arid enables hira to look on at the lives of historical per-
sonages or the impassioned figures created by genius,—which
reveals to him, a8 though by magic, their physiognomy, their
heroic stature, their language, their habits, all the shades of
their character, all the movements of their soul, and even their
< 43
14 Talma on the Actor's Art.

singularities. "T also call sensibility that faculty of exaltation
which agitates an actor, takes possession of his senses,
shakes even his very soul, and enables him to enter into the
most tragic situations, and the most terrible ofthe passions, as
if they were his own. _ The intelligence which accompanies
sensibility judges the impressions which the latter has made us
feel; it selects, arranges them, and subjects-them to calcula-
tion. If sensibility ‘furnishes the objects, the intelligence
brings the em into. Play. At aids us to direct the employment
the relations and connections which are between the poet
and the situation or the character of the personages, and
sometimes to addthe shades that are wanting, or that language
cannot express,—to cents i fine, their expression by
aetion and physiognomy. ”

-- It may be conceived that such a person must have received
fromnature a peculiar organization forsensibility, that common
property of our being. Every one possesses it in a greater or
less degree. But in the man whom nature has destined to
paint the passions in their greatest excesses, to give them all
their violence, and show them in all their delirium, one may
perceive that it must have a much greater energy ; and, as
‘all our emotions are intimately ‘connected with our nerves,
plastic as to be moved by the inspirations of the poet as
asily as the Zolian harp sounds with the least breath of air
Ya touches it.

If the actor is not endowed with a sensibility at least
equal to that of any of his audience he can move them but
‘yery little. It is only by an excess of sensibility that he can
succeed in producing deep impressions, and move even
the coldest souls. The power that-raises must be greater
than the power raised3// This faculty ought ever to exist in
‘the actor—I will not say greater or stronger than in the poet
who conceived the movement of the soul reproduced on the
stage—but more lively, more rapid, and more powerful.'' The
LTalma on the Actor's Art. 15

poet or the painter can wait for the moment of inspiration to |
write or to paint. In the actor, on the conttary, it must be
commanded at any moment, at his will. That it may be’

sudden, lively, and” prompt, he must possess an excess of
sensibility. ° Nay, more, re, his intelligence must always’ be on
the watch, and, acting in concert with his sensibility, regulate |
its movement and effects ; ; for he cannot, like the painter
and the poet, efface what he does. “

“Therefore, between two persons destined for the stage, one
possessing the extreme Sensibility I have defined, and the
other a profound. intelligence, I would without question
prefer the fornier. He might fall into some errors, but his
sensibility would inspire him with those sublime movements
which seize upon the spectator and carry delight to the
heart, \(The’superior intelligence of the other would render
him cold and regular) ” The one would go beyond your ex-
pectations and your ideas ; the other, would only accomplish
them. ” Your mind would be deeply stirred by the inspired
actor; your judgment alone would be satisfied by the intelli-
gent actor.’’ The inspired actor will so associate you with the
emotions he feels that he will not leave you even the liberty
of judgment; the other, by his prudent and irreproachable
acting, will leave your. faculties at liberty to reason on the
matter at your ease. The former will be the personage
himself, the latter only an actor who represents that personage.
Inspiration in the one, will frequently supply the place of in-
‘telligence ; in the other the combinations of intelligence will
supply only feebly the absence of inspiration. To form a
great actor, like Le Kain, the union of sensibility and
intelligence is required. .

’/ The actor who possesses this double gift adopts a course
of study peculiar to himself. In the first place, by.repea: eated
exercises; e enters deeply into the emotions, and his speech
acquires the accent proper to the situation of the personage
he has to.represent. This done, he goes to the theatre not
only to give theatrical effect to his studies, but also to to yield

ee
16 Talma on the Actor's Art.

himself to the spontaneous flashes of his sensibility and all
the emotions which it involuntarily produces in| him. What
does he then do? In order that his inspirations may not be
lost\his memory, in the silence of repose, recalls _the accent
of his voice, the expression of his features, his action—in a
word, the spontaneous workings of his mind, which he had
suffered to have free course, and, in effect, everything which
in the moments of his exaltation contributed to the effect he
had produced.* His intelligence then passes all these means
in review, connecting them and fixing them in his memory,
to re-employ them at pleasure in succeeding representations. :
These impressions are often so evanescent that on retiring
behind the scenes he must repeat to himself what he had
been playing rather than what he had to play. ° By this kind
of labour the intelligence accumulates and preserves all the
creations of sensibility.” It is by this means that at the end
of twenty years (it requires at least this length of time) 2
person destined to display fine talent may at length present
to the public a series of characters acted almost to perfection.
Such was the course which Le Kain constantly took, and
which must be taken by every one who has the ambition to
excel on the stage. The whole of his life was devoted to
this kind of study, and it was only during the last five or six
years of his life, “ between 1772 or 1773 and 1778,” that he
reaped its fruit. It was then that his fertile sensibility raised
him to the tragic situations he had to paint, and his intelli-
gence enabled him to display allthe treasures he had amassed.
It was then that his acting was fixed on such bases, and was
30 subservient to his will, that the same combinations and the
same effect presented themselves without study. Accent,
inflexions, action, attitudes, looks, all were reproduced at
every representation with the same exactness, the same
vigour ; and if there was any difference between one repre-
sentation and another, it was always in favour of the last.
Sensibility and intel ligence, therefore, are the principal
faculties necessary to an actor. Yet these alone will not
Laima on the Actor's Art. 17

ce. ‘Apart from sacra, which is his indispensable
he eee and statdi?’ and features a ted to the cha-
racter he has to play, he must have a’ ce_that can be
modulated with ease, and at the same time be powerful and
expressive. I [ need scarcely add that a good ation, the 4
study of history—(not so much the events as the manners of
the people, and the particular character of historical per/
sonages)—and even drawing, ought to add grace and strength!
to the gifts of nature.”
‘It will be well understood that I here speak only of tragedy. «
Without entering into the question whether it is more diffi- |

cult to play tragedy or comedy, I will say that to airive at
perfection in either, the same moral and physical faculties

are required Conly I I think the tragedian ought to possess |
Gofpuaver and sensibility. The comedian does not require
thé’same energy ; the imagination in hi him has less scope. He

represents beings whom he sees every day—beings of his own
class. Indeed, with very few exceptions, his task is confined
to the representations of folly and ridicyle, and to painting
passions in his own sphere of life, and, consequently, more
moderate than those which come within the domain of |
tragedy. It is, if I may so express it, his own nature which, ~
in his imitations, speaks and acts ; whereas the tragic actor ,
must quit the circle in ‘which he is accustomed to live, and!
plunge into the regions where the genius of ‘the poet has
placed and clothed in ideal forms the beings conceived by |
him or furnished: by history. He must preserve these per-
sonages in their grand proportions, but at the same time he |
must subject.théir elevated language to natural accents and
true expression ; and it is this union of grandeur without .
pomp, and 1 naming without ‘ttiviality—this wi union of the ideal ;
perhaps, be told that a tragic actor has a much preatee liberty
in the choice of his means.of offering to the public objects
whose types do not exist in society, while the same public
can easily decide whether the comedian furnishes an exact

é
18 Talma on the Actor's Art.
sf
( ‘copy of his model. I would reply that the passions are of
, all ages. Society may weaken their energy, but they do not
| the less exist in the soul, and every spectator is a competent
judge from his own feelings. With regard to the great
historical characters, the enlightened public can easily judge
of the truth of the imitation. It will therefore appear from
what I have laid down that the moral faculties ought to have
more force and intensity in the tragic than in the comic
\actor.
.C As to the physical qualities, it is evident that the pliability
lof the features and the expression.of the physiognomy ought
as be stronger, the voice more full, more sonorous, and more
}profoundly articulate in the tragic actor, who stands in need
i of certain combinations and more than ordinary powers to
perform from the beginning to the end with the same energy
a part in which the author has frequently collected in a narrow
compass, and in the space of two hours, all the movements,
all the agitations, which an impassioned being can feel only
in the course of a long life. I repeat, however, that not fewer
qualities, though of a different kind, are required in a great
eae than in a great tragic actor ; each has need of being
initiated into the mysteries of nature, the inclinations, the
Lweaknesses, the extravagances of the human heart.
“When we consider all the qualities necessary to form an
vjeeient tragic actor, all the gifts which nature should have
bestowed upon him, can we bé surprised that they are so
rare? Amongst the majority of those who go on the stage,
one has penetration, but his soul is cold as ice. Another
possesses sensibility, and intelligence is wanting. One pos-
sesses both these requisites, but in so slight a degree, that it
is as if he did not possess them at all. His acting is charac-
terized neither by energy, expression, nor confidence, and is
without colour. Sometimes he speaks in a loud and some-
times in a low key, quickly or slowly, as if by chance. An-
other has received from nature all these gifts, but his voice
is harsh, dry and monotonous, and totally incapable of ex.
Lalma on the Actor's Art. 19

pressing the passions. He weeps without drawing tears from
others ; he is affected and his audience is unmoved. One
has a sonorous and touching voice, but his features are d dis-
agreeable ; his stature and forn form have nothing heroic in them.

In’ short, the requisites for a really great actor are so many,
and so seldom united in the same person, that we ought not
to be surprised at finding them appear at such long intervals.

It must be confessed that Le Kain had some faults, but‘in

literature and the arts of imitation genius is rated in propor-
tion to the beauties it creates. Its imperfections form no part
of its fame, and would be forgetten if they were not allied to
noble inspirations. Nature had refused to Le Kain some of
the advantages which the stage ‘demands. His features had
nothing noble in them ; his physiognomy was common, his
figure short. But his exquisite sensibility, the movement of
an ardent and impassioned soul, the faculty he possessed of
plunging entirely into the situation of the personage he re-
presented, the intelligence, so delicately fine, which enabled
him to perceive and produce all the shades of the character
he had to paint—these embellished his irregular features and
gave him an inexpressible charm. His voice was naturally
heavy, and by no means flexible. It was to some extent what
is called a veiled voice, but that very veil imparted to it, defec-
tive.as it was in some respects, vibrations which went to the
bottom of the hearer’s soul. However, by dint of application,
he contrived to overcome its stiffness, to enrich it with all the
accents of passion, and to render it amenable to all the delicate
inflexions of sentiment. He had, in fact, studied his voice as
one st studies an instrument. He nee all its qualities and all
its defects. He passéd lightly over the harsher to give fuller
effect to the vibrations of the harmonious chords. His voice,
on which he had essayed every accent, became a rich-keyed
instrumént, fom which he could draw forth at pleasure every
sound he stodd in need of. And suchis the power ofa voice
thus formed by nature attuned by art, that it affects even the
foreigner who does not understandthe words. Frenchmen who

 
20 Talma on the Actor's Art.

are totally unacquainted with English, have been affected even
to tears by the accent of the touching voice of Miss O’Neill.
At the commencement of his career, Le Kain, like all
young actors, gave way to boisterous cries and violent move-
ment, believing that in this way he triumphed over difficulties.
In time, however, he felt that of all monotonies that. of the
lungs was the most insupportable ; that ‘Tragedy must_be
spoken, not howled; that a continual explosion fatigues ‘
without appealing’; and that only when it is rare and unex-
pected can it astonish and move. He felt, in fine, that the
auditor, shocked by the ranting on the stage, forgets the per-
sonage represented, and pities or condemns theactor. Thus
Le Kain, often fatigued in long and arduous scenes, took
care to conceal from the public the violence of his efforts,
and at the very moment when his powers were nearly ex-
hausted they seemed to possess all their strength and vigour.
Le Kain has been reproached for having been heavy in his
recitation. This defect was natural. He was slow, calm, and.
reflecting. Besides, Voltaire, whose actor he peculiarly was,
would not, perhaps, have readily consented to sacrifice the
pomp and harmony of his verse to a more natural tone.
He wished him to be energetic, and as he had decked out
tragedy a little the actor was obliged to follow in the track of
the poet. Again, during the time of Le Kain, a period so
brilliant from the genius of its writers and philosophers, all

in all his gifts and attiementy to make a slight concession
to the bad taste of his day. Yet his style, at first slow and
cadenced, by degrees became animated, and from the
moment he gained the high region of passion he astonished
by his sublimity. .

Notwithstanding the bad taste alluded to, there existed in
society at that time, and among the friends of Voltaire, a great
number of persons whose ideas in matters of art were more
correct, and their advice was of great service to Le Kain.
Talma on the Actor's Art. 21

Voltaire also, though he was a Melee indifferent actor, even
when he-played in his own pieces, possessed a a_good thea-

trical knowledge of the stage; this he communicated
Kain, who_profited greatly by it. During one of the
actor’s visits to Ferney Voltaire made him totally change
his manner of playing Genghis-Khan, in Z’Orphelin de la
Chine. On his return to Paris it was the first character he
played. The audience, astonished at the change, was for a
long time undecided whether to praise or blame the perfor-
mance. They couldnotbutthink thatthe actorwas indisposed.
There was nothing of the fracas or the trickery which had
previously procured him so much applause in the same part.
It was only after the fall of the curtain that the audience
felt that Le Kain was right. Public opinion was formed
instantaneously, and by an electrical movement it manifested
_ itselfin long and loud applause. “ What’s the matter?” asked
- Le Kain of Rougeot, a servant of the theatre. “It’s applause,
monsieur ; they are at length of your way of thinking,”

 

1 Talma is probably under a misapprehension here. Voltaire’s talent
as an actor, especially in the characters of venerable men, were the de-
light of the courts of the Duchesse du Maine at Sceaux, of Stanislaus
Leczinska at Luneville, and of Frederick the Great at Berlin. ‘TI re-
member,” writes Marmontel, ‘‘ that when he had just written the beau-
tiful scenes of Cicero and Ceesar with Catiline,” in Rome Sauvée, ‘“‘he
read them to me with a perfection to which no actor ever approached—
simply, nobly, without any affectation.”’ Fleury’s testimony is still more
to the point. On one occasion Zaire was to be played in the little theatre
at Ferney. For the benefit of the actor to whom Lusignan was allotted
Voltaire went through the part. Fleury writes: ‘‘He divested himself
of his ordinary expression of countenance as easily as he would throw
aside a mask; he was Lusignan personified. His attenuated form
seemed to derive a sort of supernatural animation from the expression of
his eye and the tones of his voice ; his meagre hand was tremulously ex-
tended to draw towards him the child whom he wished to save : in short,
it is impossible to conceive a more accurate and forcible expression ‘of
Christian faith mingled with parental affection.” Such testimony, to
which it would be easy to add, must overbear the opinion of Talma, who
had never seen Voltaire except on the day when the furore created by the
philosopher’s last visit to Paris was at its height.
22 “ Talma on the Actor's Art.

Experience had taught Le Kain that all the silly combi-
nations of mediocrity, the contrast of sounds, and ranting and
raving might evoke great applause and many “ bravoes,” but
conferred no reputation. The amateursof noise and voci-
feration fancy their souls are wooed, while only their ears
are stunned. There is a certain number of artists, connois-
seurs, and intelligent persons who are sensible only to what
is true and conformable to nature. These persons do not
like much noise, but an actor’s reputation depends upon their
opinion, and Le Kain despised those plaudits which torment
and often distract an actor. He resolved to study only that

“part of the public who were worth pleasing. —He rejected all
the charlatanism of his art, and produced a true effort; he
always rejected the claptraps which so many others seek to

_discover. He was, consequently, one of the actors the least
appreciated in his day, but he was the most admired by
competent judges, and he rendered tragedy more familiar «
without depriving it of its majestic proportions.

. He knew how to regulate all his movements and all his
actions. He regarded this as a very essential part of his art.

_F6r action is language i in another form. If it is violent or
hurried the carriage ceases to be noble. Thus, while other —
actors were theatrical kings only, in him the dignity did not
appear to be the result of effort, but the simple effect of habit.
He did not raise his shoulders or swell his voice to give an
order. He knew that men in power have no heed of such
efforts to make themselves obeyed, and that in the sphere

they occupy all their words have weight, and all their move-
ments authority. Le Kain displayed superior intelligence

and great ability in the varied styles of his recitation, which
‘was slow or rapid, as circumstances required ; anid his pauses//

‘were always full of deep significance. There are, in ‘fact,
‘certain circumstances in which it is necessary to solicit one’s
«self before we confide to the tongue the emotions of the soul
‘or the calculations of the mind. |The actor, therefore, must

Shave the art of thinking before he speaks, and by introducing ~
ae si ta

j
‘Talma on the Actor's Art. | 23

pauses he appears to meditate upon what he is about to say.
But t his physiognomy must correspond also with the suspen- |
sions of his voice. His attitudes and features must indicate ;
that’ during these moments of silence his soul is deeply en- ,
» gaged; without this his pauses will seem rather to be the
- result of defective memory than a secret of his art. b
There are also situations in which a person strongly oe)
pfeels too acutely to wait the slow combinations of words.
The sentiment that overpowers him escapes in mute action,
before the ‘voice is able to give it utterance. The _gesture,
the attitude, and the look ought, then, to. precede.the.words, |
as the flash of the e lightning f precedes, thethunder. Thedisplay
adds greatly to the expression, as it discovers a mind so pro-
foundly imbued that, impatient to manifest itself, it has chosen
the more rapid signs. These “ artifices” contribute what is ,
properly called by-play, a most essential part of the theatrical | |
art, and most difficult to acquire, retain, and regulate well. °
It is by this means that the actor gives to his speech an air
of truth, and takes from it all appearance of measured speaking.’
There are also situations in which a person transported by»
the violence of feeling finds at once all the expression he
wishes. The words come to his lips as rapidly as the thoughts

audience the effort | he makes to prolong his breath. This

effort he must make, since the slightest interruption or the

slightest pause would destroy the.illusion, because the mind

would seem to participate in this pause. Besidés, passion

does not follow the rules of grammar. It pays but little

respect to colons, and semicolons, and full stops, which
it. displaces without any ceremony.

* Le Kain had a long illness a few years before his dentii,
and it was to this illness that he owed the perfect develop-
ment and refining of his talents. This may appear strange,
but it is literally true. There are violent crises and certain
24 Talma on the Actor's Art.

disorders in the animal economy which often excite the
nervous system and give the imagination an inconceivable
impetus. The body suffers, but the mind is active. Persons
stricken down by illness have astonished us by the vivacity
of their ideas ; others remember things completely forgotten ;
others seem to pierce the veil which hangs between them and
the future. Perhaps Chénier was not wrong in saying,

“Le cie} donne aux mourants des accents prophetiques.”’

sensibility always remains imprinted on the nervous system ;

the emotions are more profound, and all our sensations
acquire more delicacy. It would seem as if these shocks
purified and renewed our being, and this was the effect
which his illness had upon Le Kain. The inaction to
which he had been reduced became of service to him; his
rest was that of labour. Genius does not always require
exercise, and, like the gold mine, it forms.and perfects itself
in silence and repose.

He reappeared on the stage after a long absence. The
audience, instead of having to show indulgence to a man
enfeebled by suffering, saw him, as it were, ascend from the
tomb with a more perfect intelligence, seemingly clothed
with a purer, more perfect existence. It was then that he
rejected what his intelligence disapproved. There were no
more cries, no more efforts of the lungs, no more of those
ordinary griefs, no more of those vulgar tears, which lessen
and degrade the personage. His voice, at once pleasant
and sonorous, had acquired: new accents and vibrations
which found responsive chords in every heart ; his tears
were heroic and penetrating, his acting—full, profound,
pathetic, and terrible—roused and moved even the most
insensible of his hearers.

It was also at this latter period of his life that, having ac-
quired a greater knowledge of the passions, and having him-
self perhaps witnessed deep anguish, he was the better able

Fo deed. the
Talma on the Actor's Art. as

to paint it; and if he frequently, to express great sorrow,
suffered his melancholy and dolorous voice to escape through
sobs and tears, often, too, in the highest degree of moral suf-
fering, his voice changed: it became veiled, and uttered only
inarticulate sounds of woe. His eyes appeared dull with
sorrow, and shed no tears, which seemed to be chased back,
on the heart. Admirable artifice! drawn from nature, and
more calculated to move the soul than tears themselves ; for
in real life, while we pity those who weep, we feel, at least,
that tears are a relief to them; but how much more is our
pity excited at the sight of the unfortunate being whom the
excess of deep despair deprives of voice to express his suffer-
ing, and of tears to relieve him,

‘Le Kain was the creature of passion ; he never loved but
to -madnegs ; and, it is said, he hated in the same manner.

He will never rise to excellence as an actor whose soul is «

ot susceptible o of the extremes of passion, In the expression
of the passions there are many shades Which cannotbe divined,
and which the actor cannot paint until he has felt them him-
self, The observations which he has made on. his own
nature serve at once for his study and example; he interro-
gates himself on the i impressions his soul has felt, on the ex-
ppscsston they imprinted upon his features, on the accents of
‘his voice in the various states of feeling. “He meditates.on
these, and clothes the fictitious passions with these real forms.
T scarcely know howto confess that, in my own person, in any,
circumstance of my life in which I experienced deep sorrow,
the passion of the theatre was so strong in me that, although
oppressed with real sorrow, and in spite of the tears I shed,
I made, in spite of myself, a rapid and fugitive observation

out some shame, I even ‘thought of making use of it on the
stage, and, indeed, this experiment on myself has often b
of service to me.

The contrarieties, the sorrows, and melancholy reflections
26 _ Talma on the Actor's Art.

which an actor may apply to the personage he represents, in
exciting his sensibility, place him in the degree of agitation
necessary for the development of his faculties. Le Kain
thus found, in his own passions, display for his talents. As
to the odious characters and vile passions, of which the type
was not in him—for no man was more honourable than Le
Kain—he painted them by andfogy. In fact, amongst the
irregular passions which disgrace humanity, there are some
which possess points of contact with those which ennoble it.,
Thus, the sentiment of a noble emulation enables us to divine
what envy may feel; the just resentment of wrongs shows us
in miniature the excess of hatred and vengeance. Reserve
and prudence enable us to paint dissimulation. The desires,
the torments, and the jealousies of love enable us to conceive
all its frenzies and initiate us in the secret of its crimes.

These combinations, these comparisons, are the result of

‘a rapid and imperceptible labour of sensibility, united with
‘intelligence, which secretly operates on the actor as on the
‘poet, and which reveals to them what is foreign to their own
‘nature—the viler passions of guilty and corrupted minds.
‘Thus Milton, a man of austere probity, and so full of the
divine power, created the personage of Satan. Corneille,
the simplest and the worthiest of men, created Phocas and
Felix; Racine, Mero and Narcissus. Voltaire has painted
the effects of fanaticism with a frightful truth; and Ducis,
whose taste was simple, and whose life was religious, painted,
in Albufar, in traits of fire, all the transports of incestuous
love.

These terminate my hasty reflections on Le Kain and our
art. I have thrown them together without order ; but I hope,
in the quietude of silence and repose, to resume the subject,

.and give, for the use of my successors, the result of a long
experience in a career devoted entirely to the advancement
of the beautiful art I love so deeply.
CHISWICK PRESS —C, WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT,
: CHANCERY LANE, '
Date Due