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THE ACTOR'S ART. 
 
.The Actor's Art 
 
 A PRACTICAL TREATISE 
 
 ON 
 
 STAGE DECLAMATION, PUBLIC SPEAKING, 
 AND DEPORTMENT, 
 
 FOR THE USE OF 
 
 Hrtists, Stubents, anfc Hmateurs, 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 A Sketch on the History of the Theatre, from the Greeks to the 
 Present Time, 
 
 by oaJUa^- 
 gustave ga&cia, 
 
 PROFESSOR OF SINGING AND DECLAMATION AT THE ROVAL ACADEMY OF MUSIC, 
 
 AND THE LONDON ACADEMY OF MUSIC ', 
 
 PROFESSOR OF SINGING AT THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF MUSIC, AND THE 
 
 GUILDHALL SCHOOL OF MUSIC, ETC., ETC. 
 
 Illustrated by A. Forestier. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 'Action, and utterance, and the pov:er of speech. "—Shakespeare's Julius C&sar. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 LONDON : 
 MESSRS SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO., 
 
 4 Stationers' Hall Court. 
 
EDINBURGH : 
 THE DARIEN PRESS, BRISTO PLACE. 
 
TO 
 
 HENRY IRVING, 
 
 THIS SHORT EXPOSITION OF 
 
 THE A CTO R'S ART 
 
 IS DEDICATED. 
 
6 V 
 
 \ 4<f> 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 AN experience of many years in teaching singing and acting, 
 has convinced me, that the latter as well as the former art 
 can be reduced, like grammar, to a series of rules ; and in the 
 present work will be found, briefly, but plainly and practically 
 recorded, the result of my experience. Every person who comes 
 before the public, either in the capacity of a singer, an actor, a 
 preacher, or a barrister, must study, under particularly different 
 aspects, the management of the voice, with the rules of elocution 
 and action. Each of these branches forms a special study. The 
 observations here offered in the first instance to singers and 
 actors, may also have some interest for preachers and barristers, 
 inasmuch as they treat of the voice and elocution. 
 
 It would manifestly be impossible to handle the subject 
 exhaustively within the limits I have been obliged to prescribe to 
 myself, in a treatise of this kind ; but it has been my endeavour 
 to give the results of my observations and experience in a plain 
 practical manner, that will not, I trust, be without its use to the 
 student. 
 
 348470 
 
SUMMARY OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Introductory 
 
 PAGE 
 
 xiii 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Voice . - - - - - - - - 
 
 The Lungs — Mechanical Action in Breathing — Formation of 
 Sound — The Registers — Chest Notes — Falsetto — Head Register 
 — Intensity and Volume of Voice — On the Emission and the 
 Qualities of the Voice — The Pharynx or Reflecting Organs — 
 Timbres — Guttural Timbre — Nasal Timbre — Cavernous or 
 Hollow Sounding Timbre — Veiled Sounds — Sounds Obtained by 
 Inspiration. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 On Articulation ....... 
 
 On Vowels — Of Consonants — Explosive Consonants — Sustained 
 Consonants — Summary — On Accents — On Quantity — Emphasis 
 on Consonants — Fulness and Steadiness of Voice in Pronouncing 
 Words — Phraseology. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Rules to be Observed in the Concert-Room 
 Avoid Awkwardness — The Face. 
 
 24 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 General Observations on Acting -. 
 
 28 
 
Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 How to Walk the Stage - - - - 3 1 
 
 First and Second Practice, Cross the Stage— Third Practice, 
 Descending and Ascending the Stage — Fourth and Fifth 
 Practice, Walking a Measured Distance — Sixth and Seventh 
 Practice, Rules in Walking Measured Distances— Eighth and 
 Ninth Practice, Interrupted Walks— Tenth Practice, Backward 
 and Staggering Steps— Eleventh Practice, Combination of the 
 Forward and Backward Steps — Necessity of Measuring Distances 
 — Classification of the Different Walks — Short Steps — Affected 
 Pride — Vanity — Pride of Physical Power — Walk of a Drunkard 
 — Faults to be Avoided. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Hand and Arm ....... 43 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Action of the Arms and Hands - - - - - 47 
 
 Preliminary Studies — First Practice, the Right Hand — Second 
 Practice, the Left Hand— The Palm of the Hand— First Study 
 — Second Study — Gradation in the Actions — Third Study — 
 Fourth Study— Fifth Study— Sixth Study— Seventh Study- 
 Eighth Study— Ninth Study, the Right Hand. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Expression of Favourable Sentiments - - - - 59 
 
 Tendency of the Palm of the Hand Upwards — First Study — Second 
 Study— Third Study— Fourth Study— Fifth Study— Sixth Study 
 — Seventh Study — Eighth Study — Ninth Study. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Expression of Unfavourable Sentiments - - 69 
 
 Tendency of the Palm of the Hand Downwards — First Study — 
 Second Study — Third Study — Fourth Study — Fifth Study. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Preliminary Practices for both Arms and Hands - - 84 
 
 First Practice — Second Practice. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Physiognomy -------- 86 
 
 The Forehead— The Eyes— The Eyebrows— The Nose— The Chin 
 —The Mouth and Lips— The Teeth— The Ears— The Hair. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 On Passions and Feelings ------ 124 
 
 Preliminary Observations — Analysis of Feelings and Conditions of 
 Mind, Expressed by the General Attitude of the Body — Dignity 
 — Pride — Vanity — Defiance — Indolence — Indifference — Dreamy 
 Thoughtfulness ; Absence of Mind — Reflection or Thought — 
 Prudence — Indecision — Timidity — Audacity — Courage. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Passions and Feelings — continued - - - - 131 
 
 Eagerness in Various Phases — Curiosity — Indiscretion — Expecta- 
 tion — Gluttony — Drunkenness — Avarice — Selfishness, Compari- 
 son between Selfishness and Avarice — Ingratitude — Envy — 
 Ambition. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Analysis of Favourable Sentiments - - - 138 
 
 Calmness — Admiration — Astonishment; Surprise— Joy — Rapturous 
 Joy — Sensitiveness — Melancholy — Hope. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Love — Affection in its Various Phases - - - - 143 
 
 Esteem — Sympathy— Friendship — Paternal Love — Maternal Love 
 — Veneration — Filial Love — Humility — Devotion — Benevolence 
 — Modesty — Pity. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Analysis of Unfavourable Sentiments - - - 152 
 
 Aversion — Repugnance — Deception — Contempt — Sarcasm — 
 Hypocrisy — Jealousy and Envy — Hatred and the Kindred Pas- 
 sions — Vengeance — Anger — Rage — Despair — Fear — Terror — 
 Repentance — Remorse — Shame — Timidity — Suspicion. 
 
 CFIAPTER XVII. 
 On Primary and Derived Sentiments - 166 
 
Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Gradation and Harmony to be Observed between the 
 
 Sentiments and their Expressions - - - 168 
 
 Harmony to be Observed between the Action and the Sentiments. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Gestures and Summary of Action - - - - - 174 
 
 Summary of different Gestures. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Faults to be Avoided on the Stage - - - 178 
 
 On the want of Harmony in the General Action and the Scenes. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Making up the Face ....... 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Analysis of Mark Antony's Oration over the Corpse of C^sar 201 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Analysis of the Jewels Song in " Faust" - - - 214 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Analysis of Basilio's Song in the " Nozze di Figaro" - - 220 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 The Stage, and Acting in Ancient Times - - - 225 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 ' Action, and utterance, and the power of speech, to stir men's blood." 
 
 CICERO said that memory was the treasure of the fool. In this 
 he was right ; for the intelligent man does not consider it 
 enough to commit a few sentences to memory ; every word that he 
 learns must be thoroughly understood, every sentiment must become 
 part of his own consciousness ; — for the effect of spoken words depends 
 in a great measure on the mode of delivery. 
 
 To declaim with effect, every sentence must be uttered as if from a 
 mind fully permeated with the subject and confident of its own power, 
 so that no hesitation or appearance of uncertainty may weaken the 
 force of delivery or impede the flow of words. 
 
 The voice must be thoroughly kept under control and pitched in a 
 medium tone, so that its power may be increased when necessary 
 without straining, and subdued without becoming weak or inaudible. 
 All the different shades of sentiment must remain musical — that is, 
 sonorous and vibrating in quality. Speakers or actors who lose 
 control over their voice, or indulge in exuberant gesticulation, fail to 
 be impressive. A gradation must be strictly observed towards an 
 increase or decrease of emotion. So soon as the climax point of the 
 passage has been reached, by gradually increasing the pitch of the 
 voice, the speaker must contrast his effect by immediately lowering 
 the pitch either gradually or suddenly. Pathetic passages will be all 
 the more impressive if the voice sinks low. 
 
 A speaker who delivers his words flowingly and with a musical 
 
Introductory. 
 
 voice adds a great charm to the work of which he is the interpreter, 
 and enchants the listener. On the contrary, a lachrymose, gloomy or 
 spasmodic tone — a monotonous rhythm, such as is caused by putting 
 a jerky accent, on every alternate word or syllable — or dropping the 
 voice at the end of the words or lines ; or a mechanical elocution — all 
 defects caused by an insensibility to rhythmical modulation — produce 
 in the hearer a sense of extreme fatigue and annoyance. 
 
 Cardinal Maury said — " Orators should vary the inflection of their 
 voices with each rhetorical figure, and their intonation with every 
 paragraph. Let them imitate the simple and impressive accents of 
 nature in delivery as well as in composition. In the flowing stream 
 of utterance blend pauses, which are always striking, when cautiously 
 used and timed." Thus a striking effect is produced by the pauses 
 in the lines from Gray's " Bard," in which the lament of the minstrel 
 is interrupted by his astonishment, on seeing the spectral forms of his 
 " lost companions " on the opposite rocks : — 
 
 " No more I weep. They do not sleep. 
 On yonder cliff — a grisly band — 
 I see them sit — they linger yet — 
 avengers of their native land." 
 
 " Such," continues the Cardinal, " are the innocent artifices by which 
 a Christian Orator may insure the success of his mission. Roundness 
 and music in the voice, expression in the face, graceful and energetic 
 actions of the body, are the natural gifts which harmonise with the 
 power of the intellect." Cicero declared that with the features of the 
 face, the actions of the body, and the voice, all the sentiments of the 
 soul could be expressed. No one could be an Orator who was 
 deficient in these faculties. Buffon speaks of " Un ton vehement et 
 pathetique, des gestes expressifs, des paroles rapides et sonnantes." 
 
 Tragedians, comedians, singers and public speakers must bear in 
 mind that fulness of sound, modulation of the voice, alternate 
 animation and repose in the delivery, as well as a sober and appro- 
 priate action, are the indispensable conditions which will enable them 
 to impress their auditors. We would advise singers, in practising, to 
 declaim the words of their songs before singing them. It is said that 
 Voltaire made one of his pupils, who had a tendency towards exuberant 
 gesticulation, recite a piece with her hands tied to her sides. Salvini, 
 whom I consider the finest speaker I ever heard, is a striking example 
 of the impression made by a musical and sonorous voice. 
 
Introductory. 
 
 Lloyd states that 
 
 " The player's province they vainly try 
 Who want those powers — deportment, voice, and eye." 
 
 He also lays down certain elocutionary laws, which, quaint and 
 amusing as they are, are worthy of reproduction : — 
 
 " 'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear, 
 'Tis modulation that must charm the ear ; 
 The voice all modes of passion can express 
 That marks the proper word with proper stress, 
 But none emphatic can that actor call 
 Who lays an equal emphasis on all. 
 Some o'er the tongue the laboured measures roll, 
 Slow and deliberate, as the parting toll, 
 Point every stop, mark every pause, so long 
 Their words like stage processions stalk along ; 
 Till affectation but creates disgust 
 And e'en in speaking we may deem to just. 
 In vain for them the pleasing measure flows, 
 Whose recitation runs it all to prose ; 
 Repeating what the poet sets not down, 
 The verb disjoining from its friendly noun, 
 While pause and break and repetition join 
 To make a discord in each tuneful line. 
 Some placid natures fill the allotted scene 
 With lifeless drone, insipid and serene ; 
 While others thunder every couplet o'er, 
 And almost crack your ears with rent and roar. 
 More nature oft, and finest strokes, are shown 
 In the low whisper than tempestuous tone ; 
 And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze 
 More powerful terror to the mind conveys, 
 Than he who, swollen with big impetuous rage, 
 Bullies the bulky phantom off the stage." 
 &c. , &c. 
 
 — R. Lloyd. 
 
CHAPTER L 
 
 THE VOICE. 
 
 THE human voice, through the influence of age, sex, and 
 constitution, undergoes many modifications. Besides the 
 striking difference existing between the voices of various human 
 beings, there are many qualities or shades belonging to the voice 
 of the same individual. Every voice is capable of assuming the 
 inflexions caused by the different passions, and of imitating 
 animals, as well as nearly all the noises which strike the ear. 
 
 The manner of taking breath being the first consideration in 
 the formation of the voice, we will consider the functions of the 
 organs employed in respiration. 
 
 The mechanism employed in speaking, as well as in singing, is 
 the combined action of four sets of organs, which, though they act 
 simultaneously, have each their peculiar and independent func- 
 tions, namely : — 
 
 I. The lungs, 
 II. The larynx, - 
 
 III. The pharynx, - 
 
 IV. Organs of the mouth, 
 
 The bellows or air supply. 
 Vibratory organs. 
 Reflecting organs. 
 The articulating organs. 
 
 This and the following chapter are chiefly based on Manuel Garcia's 
 "Treatise on Singing," published by Messrs Hutchings & Romer. 
 
 A 
 
■ «' . : The, Actor's Art. 
 
 THE LUNGS (THE BELLOWS, OR AIR CHEST). 
 
 The lungs are the indispensable agents for respiration, and are 
 placed below the organ of the voice, performing functions analo- 
 gous to the bellows of a church organ ; that is to say, they furnish 
 the wind required for producing the different sonorous vibrations. 
 Air enters into and escapes from the lungs by a multitude of 
 minute tubes, called the bronchial tubes, which, as they ascend to the 
 throat, unite into a single highly elastic pipe, known by anatomists 
 as the trachea. This, rising vertically up the anterior part of the 
 neck, communicates with the larynx, the organ next in succession. 
 The lungs are a receptacle for the accumulation of air, and do 
 not, as most persons suppose, give origin to the sounds commonly 
 denominated chest notes. The cause of this error is as follows : — 
 Men — not women — experience in singing or speaking, in the 
 lower tones of their voice, a strong vibration, both in the chest 
 and the back, but (analogously in this respect to the harmonic 
 board of pianos and violins) the chest receives the vibrations only 
 by transmission, having no power to originate them. These 
 organs are enclosed by the ribs, and rest upon the diaphragm, 
 which wholly separates them from the abdomen. The develop- 
 ment of the lungs in the act of inspiration may be affected simul- 
 taneously from above, downwards, by the contraction of the 
 diaphragm, and laterally by the distention of the ribs. Whether 
 these two operations could be performed independently of each 
 other is at least doubtful, but perfect inspiration appears to depend 
 upon their united action. With females, indeed, the act of inspira- 
 tion is more usually effected by the raising of the chest ; but it 
 may be very much questioned whether this is not mainly due to 
 the confinement in which their ribs are habitually held. 
 
 MECHANICAL ACTION IN BREATHING. 
 
 (the breath.) 
 
 No persons become accomplished speakers or singers until 
 they possess an entire control over the breath — the very element 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 of sound. In order that the lungs may freely receive the exter- 
 nal air, the chest must be sufficiently capacious to allow of their 
 full dilation \ and in effecting this, the diaphragm, which is a wide 
 covered muscle separating the lungs from the cavity of the 
 abdomen, plays an important part. The action of breathing con- 
 sists of two separate operations, the first being that of inspiration, 
 by which the lungs draw in the external air ; and the second, that 
 of expiration, by which they give out the air just inspired. To 
 insure easy inspiration, it is requisite that the head be erect, the 
 shoulders thrown back without stiffness, and the chest expanded. 
 This double movement enlarges the compass or the circumference 
 of the lungs ; first at their base, and subsequently throughout their 
 whole extent, leaving them full liberty to expand, until they are 
 completely filled with air. 
 
 When the lungs have been gradually filled, without any jerking 
 movement, they have the power of retaining the air without effort ; 
 this slow and complete inspiration is what the Italians call respiro, 
 as contrasted with that slight and hurried inspiration which gives 
 the lungs that slight supply, merely sufficient for a movement, and 
 technically termed the mezzo respiro. In neither case, however, 
 should the passage of the air through the glottis be attended by 
 any noise, as besides being offensive to the ear, it would make the 
 throat both dry and stiff. 
 
 Of course the mechanical art of expiration is precisely the 
 reverse of inspiration, consisting simply in effecting a gentle 
 gradual pressure of the throat and diaphragm on the lungs when 
 charged with air j for if the movements of the ribs and of the 
 diaphragm were to take place suddenly, they would cause the air 
 to escape all at once. 
 
 We would remark, that by submitting the lungs to a particular 
 exercise, their power and elasticity will greatly increase. This 
 exercise consists of four distinct and successive practical opera- 
 tions now to be described : — 
 
 i 
 
 Firstly. — The pupil should gently and slowly inhale, for a few 
 seconds, as much air as the chest can well contain. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Secondly. — After taking a deep breath the air must be 
 exhaled again very gently and slowly. 
 
 Thirdly. — Fill the lungs and keep them inflated for the 
 longest possible time. 
 
 Fourthly. — Exhale completely, and leave the chest empty as 
 long as the physical powers will conveniently allow. It 
 must be confessed, that all these exercises are at first very 
 exhausting, and must be separately practised. 
 
 i After long intervals of rest, however, the two first, namely, 
 [ the gentle inspirations and expirations, will be more equally 
 effected by nearly closing the mouth in such a way as to leave 
 only a very slight aperture for the passage of air. By these mea ns 
 the pupjLmlL acquire steadin ess of vo ice. The breath influences 
 the speaking voice as well as the mode or character of vocal 
 execution, being capable of rendering it either steady or vacillat- 
 ing, connected or unconnected, powerful or feeble, expressive or 
 the reverse. 
 
 FORMATION OF SOUND. 
 
 (the larynx, or second apparatus.) 
 
 The larynx, which is immediately dependent on the respiratory 
 apparatus, forms the registers, the different degrees of brightness 
 and dulness of sounds, and the volume and intensity of the 
 voice. 
 
 It is the generator of the voice, and forms the protuberance in 
 the front of the throat, perceptible alike to sight and touch, more 
 developed in the male subject, and usually called "Adam's apple." 
 In the centre of the larynx a narrow passage exists, formed by two 
 tendons stretching horizontally across it, one on the right side, the 
 other on the left. These are called vocal ligaments, and the 
 opening between them is called the glottis (whence they are often 
 called the lips of the glottis). And to these ligaments, or lips, 
 alone are we indebted for the vibration of the voice. 
 
 Modern science has rendered it possible for all who desire it, 
 to make an inspection of the vocal ligaments while in action in 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 their larynx. Most doctors use the instrument known as Garcia's 
 laryngoscope for the treatment of throat diseases. In this way a 
 practical illustration of this matter can be obtained with little 
 difficulty. 
 
 The mechanical action of the voice is solely formed by periodi- 
 cal compressions and expansions of air during its exit from the 
 glottis. The two small lips in the larynx, which combine to form 
 the glottis or passage for the breath, come into contact with each 
 other, causing below them an accumulation of air, which, owing 
 to the pressure it then undergoes, acquires elasticity, and escapes 
 with sudden expansion through the opening of the glottis. The 
 alternate contractions and dilations, causing successive and regu- 
 lar~expansions of air, give origin to the voice. Perhaps the best 
 idea the reader can form of this action is from the vibration of 
 the lips when pressed to the mouth-piece of a trumpet in the act 
 of producing a sound. On the rapidity with which the glottis 
 opens and closes depends the higher or lower sound. It is to be 
 remarked, moreover, that the quickness of the alterations increases 
 inversely to the length of the vibratory orifice. Experience proves 
 that every variety of sound, including, not only the singing voice 
 throughout its whole extent, but the speaking voice, and even the 
 shriek, is the result of a few primitive and fundamental laws, and 
 may be classified according to register, vibratory quality, and 
 intensity. 
 
 THE REGISTERS. 
 
 We mean by register, a series of homogeneous sounds resulting 
 from the use of the same mechanism. 
 The registers are as follows : — 
 
 The Chest Voice (voce di petto). 
 The Falsetto Voice (falsetto). 
 The Head Voice (voce di testa). 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 FORMATION OF REGISTERS IN FEMALE VOICES. 
 
 CHEST NOTES. 
 
 The chest voice has much greater power of vibration than the 
 falsetto, and requires accordingly a more energetic action of the 
 glottis. This action is most easily called into play by the pro- 
 nunciation of the Italian i or English e. The compass of this 
 register, physiologically, may be included in all ladies' voices 
 between E flat below the lines and B or even C third space. In 
 the application, singers must pass from the chest to the falsetto 
 note, between E flat first line and F first space. 
 
 FALSETTO. 
 
 The falsetto, a term which is commonly applied to the medium 
 of the voice, is generally more veiled than the head or chest 
 voice, and requires a greater expenditure of air. It extends 
 between D below the lines and C third space. The names of 
 chest, falsetto, and head voice are erroneous, although they are 
 commonly used. 
 
 THE HEAD REGISTER. 
 
 The head notes have more brilliancy than the falsetto register, 
 and are obtained by a firm pressure of the lips of the glottis 
 against each other. The head voice extends from C sharp third 
 space to the highest notes of the soprano. 
 
 INTENSITY AND VOLUME OF VOICE. 
 
 Intensity of sounds depends on the quantity of air used in 
 producing a pure vibration. The glottis should close entirely 
 after each vibration ; because if constantly open, the waste of 
 breath would, beyond all doubt, produce weak instead of strong 
 notes. The glottis must, therefore, be constricted in proportion 
 to the pressure given to the air. Volume of sound depends on 
 the cavity formed above the glottis.* 
 
 * For further particulars see M. Garcia's "School of Singing," chapter 
 "Classification of Cultivated Voices." 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 ON THE EMISSION AND THE QUALITIES OF THE 
 VOICE. 
 
 A good, sustained, and resonant quality of the voice being the 
 first desideratum for singers, actors, and public speakers, it is 
 necessary to correct the faults to which all uncultivated voices are 
 liable. Some voices, for instance, are tremulous ; others nasal, 
 guttural, veiled, harsh, shrieking, &c. ; while many are deficient in 
 power, compass, steadiness, elasticity, and mellowness. To cor- 
 rect or obviate the above-mentioned faults, we must study the 
 organ which modifies the sound and produces the various qualities 
 of the voice, namely, the pharynx. 
 
 THE PHARYNX, OR REFLECTING ORGANS. 
 
 The pharynx is an elastic cavity visible at the back of the 
 mouth. It is limited by the back wall of the throat and the front 
 arch of the palate. It modifies the sound and produces the 
 various qualities of the voice, which, in leaving the tongue, is 
 echoed and reflected by it. The moment a sound is emitted, it 
 becomes subject to the influence of the vocal tube through which 
 it passes, which tube, having the power of lengthening or shorten- 
 ing, contracting or expanding, and of changing its curvilinear form 
 to that of a right angle, most perfectly fulfils the functions of a 
 reflector to the voice ; thence the variety of " timbre " or resonant 
 quality will correspond to the multitudinous mechanical changes 
 of which the vocal tube is susceptible. By timbre is meant the 
 peculiar, and, in fact, variable character that can be assured by 
 each register, even in the formation of the vowels. 
 
 We shall understand the movements of the pharynx if we 
 consider it as a deep and highly elastic pipe, beginning below at 
 the larynx, forming a cyrve at the arch of the soft palate and 
 ending above at the mouth ; a tube which, when at its shortest 
 dimensions, forms only a slight curve, and at its longest nearly a 
 right angle. The larynx in the former case rises towards the 
 soft palate, and the latter dropping to meet it ; whereas in the 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 latter case, the larynx drops and the soft palate rises — thus 
 making the distance between them greater. The Italian vowels i 
 and e would cause the former of these two functions of the larynx 
 and soft palate, whilst the Italian vowels o and u would cause the 
 latter action. Laughing has the same effect as the i and e; 
 yawning, on the contrary, that of the vowel u. In conclusion, the 
 short and gently curved shape produces the bright timbre, while 
 the sombre is caused by the lengthened and strongly curved form. 
 These two "timbres," open and close, or bright or dull, are the 
 leading qualities of the voice. This close relationship between 
 the different vowel sounds and the various forms assumed by the 
 pharynx constitute a subject which will be especially considered 
 when we speak of the fourth set of organs — those of the mouth, 
 in treating of articulation. 
 
 TIMBRES. 
 
 Every change of timbre, of which all sounds are susceptible, 
 originates in a corresponding change of the tube of the pharynx ; 
 and as this flexible tube is capable of undergoing countless varie- 
 ties of form, it follows that the modifications of all sounds are also 
 numberless. The ear can always detect by the quality of a sound 
 the shape assumed by the tube. Among all these shades and 
 changes, those are to be selected which in all respects best suit 
 the voice of the student. That sound is especially to be preferred, 
 which is round, ringing, and mellow. 
 
 To obtain this brightness and roundness in the sound, the 
 pupil should draw breath slowly, and then produce the sound by 
 a neat resolute articulation or stroke of the glottis upon the broad 
 Italian vowel a. If this movement be properly executed the 
 sound will come out bright and round. Care, however, must be 
 taken to pitch the sound at once on the note itself and not to slur 
 up to it, or feel the way to it. 
 
 The pupil must also be warned against the confounding the 
 articulation or stroke of the glottis with the stroke of the chest, 
 which latter resembles the act of coughing, or the effort made in 
 expelling some obstruction from the throat. This stroke or act of 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 coughing out the notes of the chest causes a great loss of breath, 
 rendering the sounds aspirated, stifled, and uncertain in tone. 
 The function of the chest is solely to supply air not to throw it 
 out violently. 
 
 The glottis is prepared for articulation by closing it, which 
 causes a momentary accumulation of air below, and it is then 
 opened by a sudden and vigorous stroke — similar to the action of 
 the lips when strongly emphasising the letter/. 
 
 Actors as well as singers may be recommended to practise this 
 action of the glottis on the seven Italian vowels, a, <?, <?, /", o, o, u, 
 and also in all the notes forming the compass of their voice, a clear 
 and sonorous tone of voice being the first desideratum for the one 
 as well as for the other. 
 
 There are several defects calculated to injure the beauty of the 
 voice. The most common of these we shall at once point out, 
 and at the same time show the best means to correct them. 
 
 GUTTURAL TIMBRE. 
 
 Whenever the tongue rises or swells at its base, it drives back 
 the epiglottis — a little cap or valve, that covers the air pipe and 
 causes the food to pass directly into the gullet or swallowing pipe 
 — on the columns of ascending air, and causes the voice to be 
 emitted with a guttural, choked sound. This position of the 
 tongue may be ascertained by outwardly pressing the top of the 
 larynx w T ith the finger, whilst in the act of singing. The best 
 method of correcting this defective timbre will at once be 
 inferred. 
 
 Should the glottis be raised over the finger, it indicates that 
 the tongue becomes convex at the root. Should the glottis remain 
 under the finger, it indicates that the tongue remains passive at 
 the root. It should lie at the bottom of the mouth, forming a 
 hollow. In the act of yawning, the glottis is lowered, the soft 
 palate raised, and the throat in general is relaxed entirely. Thus 
 no contraction being possible, the voice loses its choky and 
 guttural sound. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 The tongue is the chief agent employed in transforming 
 sounds into vowels, which should be done principally by the 
 movements of its edges, while its base should always remain 
 passive. It may be added, that the separation of the jaws should 
 be nearly uniform for all vowels. 
 
 NASAL TIMBRE. 
 
 When the soft palate is too much relaxed, the voice will 
 probably acquire a nasal character, for the column of vocal air is 
 reflected or echoed immediately in the nasal fossae or cavities 
 before being emitted by the mouth. On pinching the nostrils 
 we may perceive whether the column of air on leaving the larynx 
 is directed against the nassal fossae before entering the mouth, or 
 whether it passes immediately through this latter cavity. The 
 way to correct this fault is simply to raise the soft palate by in- 
 haling deeply, with the mouth well opened. 
 
 CAVERNOUS OR HOLLOW SOUNDING TIMBRE. 
 
 The voice will become dull and cavernous if any obstacle be 
 offered to the progress of the waves of sound. The rising of the 
 tongue at its tip is alone sufficient to produce this effect. The 
 swelling of the tonsils may also present another obstacle, and give 
 the voice a muffled character. This swelling, to which young 
 persons are liable, constitutes a difficulty in forming the head 
 voice and extending its compass. 
 
 VEILED SOUNDS. 
 
 Of all the qualities of voice the most objectionable is that 
 which is open, and yet has no brilliancy. Be it remembered, 
 however, that the veiled quality of the voice may be corrected by 
 firmly constricting or contracting the glottis, which will be best 
 effected by pronouncing the English vowel e. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 SOUND OBTAINED BY INSPIRATION. 
 
 Sound can be formed not only when the air is expelled from 
 the chest, but also when it passes through the larynx to enter the 
 lungs. This voice is gruff and uneven. It is exclusively used in 
 declamatory passages, where the actor resorts to suppressed 
 sobbing or struggling for breath to express intense passion, or in 
 death scenes. Great caution and taste must dictate the use of 
 such resources. Where it is judiciously employed, it greatly adds 
 to the general effect, whereas it would be entirely out of place if it 
 were applied to the expression of ordinary sentiments. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON ARTICULATION. 
 
 NEATNESS of articulation in speaking or singing is of the 
 first importance. A singer or public speaker who is not 
 distinctly understood wearies his auditors, and destroys almost all 
 the effect of the music or of the sentiments he has to express, by 
 obliging the hearers to make continual efforts to catch the sense 
 of the words. 
 
 Where the singer or public speaker has not attentively analysed 
 the mechanism that produces both vowels and consonants, his 
 articulation will be deficient in ease and energy, inasmuch as he 
 has not learned the secret of giving that development and equili- 
 brium to the voice which he might attain in simple vocalisation, 
 and cannot employ at pleasure the timbre suitable to the passion 
 he wishes to express. Often actors have not sufficient ear to 
 enable them to study singing ; yet I would strongly recommend 
 them to make themselves thoroughly acquainted with the mechani- 
 cal actions of the larynx, as explained in the preceding chapter, as 
 well as with the mechanism that produces both vowels and con- 
 sonants, to be treated of in this chapter. In the first instance 
 they will acquire that vibrating, sonorous quality so impressive in 
 public declamation, obtaining at the same time such perfect con- 
 
The Actor's Art. 13 
 
 trol over their voice as will enable them to modulate at pleasure, 
 without straining it, until huskiness and coarseness of tone have 
 taken the place of musical sounds, whether soft or energetic. 
 
 Our remarks on this subject will be comprised under the 
 following heads : — 
 
 Vowels. 
 
 Consonants. 
 
 The Quantity of Vowels. 
 
 The Quantity of Consonants. 
 
 ON VOWELS. 
 
 The voice, both in speaking and in singing, is produced by 
 precisely the same set of organs, and both the speaking and the 
 singing voice issue from the same cavities, namely — the mouth 
 and nostrils. Of these the mouth is the more important, as 
 its sides and internal organs are the principal agents of articu- 
 lation. In fact the tongue, palate, teeth and lips, all con- 
 tribute in turn to the modification of the different elements 
 of speech. These are aided by the jaws, which, by their 
 ever-varying play, have no inconsiderable share in the quality 
 of the sounds produced. Thus, the mouth, owing to its capa- 
 bility for contraction or expansion, can, by the modification 
 of its diameter, length, and internal form, give to the voice in its 
 exit a correspondingly different sound. The vowels are the result 
 of those modifications which sounds receive in passing through 
 the vocal tube. The simplest sound emitted therefrom represents 
 to our ear the condition of the pipe while air is being forced 
 through it ; and all the differences in simple sounds indicate cor- 
 responding differences in its form. The Italians usually recognise 
 only seven vowels — a e e i o u. Nevertheless, there should be 
 at least nine vowel sounds ; for in the high notes of each register, 
 the French vowels e and u are absolutely indispensable. The 
 practice of languages proves that the number of vowels, and 
 shades of vowels, is unlimited ; for though writing represents 
 
i4 The Actor's Art. 
 
 vowels by means of invariable signs, there is a marked difference 
 in the sound of each when uttered by different individuals. 
 Moreover, a person pronouncing any word does not always give 
 to the vowels it contains the same stress and sound ; for so soon 
 as any passion animates a speaker, the vowels unavoidably receive 
 its influence, and strike our ear by the clearness or dulness of 
 their shadings, and the brilliancy or the sombre quality of their 
 timbre. In the word " anima," for instance, the a will not main- 
 tain the same sonorousness in a passage of tenderness, as in one 
 of anger, raillery, entreaty, or menace. 
 
 On comparing these remarks with those previously made on 
 the timbres, the reader will observe a close resemblance between 
 this mechanism and that of vowels, whereby they mutually depend 
 on one another ; indeed one cannot be altered without changing 
 the other. This observation is most important in its results, for 
 it will enable the singer to determine what timbre for each vowel 
 is best suited to the proposed effect, and at the same time to 
 maintain a perfect equality throughout his voice. Indeed, the 
 choice of timbre for each vowel is dependent on two different 
 things, the verbal or declamatory accent, and evenness of voice. 
 A few examples will illustrate this. 
 
 The timbre should vary with every varying passion to be ex- 
 pressed. For instance, if the melody and words indicate deep 
 grief, a bright quality would evidently make' the voice belie the 
 sentiment. 
 
 The brilliant tone which would suit the following words, in 
 Moore's charming song, " The Young May Moon " : — 
 
 "Then, awake ! the heavens look bright, my dear, 
 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear," — 
 
 would appear absurdly jocund, and therefore out of place, in the 
 following lines of the old poet Chaucer in the words he puts 
 into the mouth of the dying Arcite : — 
 
 Alas, the death ! alas mine Emelie, 
 Alas, departing of our company ! 
 
 — {Arcite *s dying address. ) 
 
The Actor's Art. 15 
 
 On the other hand, if the sentiment to be expressed is that of 
 gaiety and animation, or if melody breathes the same, a clear 
 timbre can alone communicate appropriate brilliancy to the voice. 
 In such a case, dull or covered timbre would produce a hoarse 
 effect. 
 
 But, in order to obtain evenness of voice, the student should 
 by clever management modify a vowel, insensibly sounding it as 
 the voice ascends, and brightening it as it descends ; by this 
 means a seeming equality results from a real, but well-concealed 
 inequality of the vocal sounds. This precept applies to each 
 register throughout the entire compass. If a vowel remained con- 
 stantly open, as the a when sounded in the word " father," it 
 would give brightness to the low and middle sounds, while high 
 notes w r ould be shrill and shrieking ; whereas a vowel that is 
 invariably covered, like the o in- the word " monte," would give 
 richness to the high notes, and make low ones veiled and dull. 
 
 This method applied to all vowels will supply us with the 
 following principles : — 
 
 The a approaches the open 0. 
 
 The open e approaches the e ; and next to it, the eu. 
 
 The i (Italian) approaches the u, without the aid of the lips. 
 
 The approaches the on. 
 
 When a vow T el is to be brightened, an exactly opposite process 
 to that above indicated is requisite, — the on approaches o ; o, a ; 
 and so on with the rest. Vowels which are very acute — as i 
 (Italian) and u (French), — if sung as they are spoken, would 
 contract the voice and inconvenience it. To avoid this, a pupil 
 should open these vowels a little more than is required for spoken 
 pronunciation. Our experience proves the following exercises to 
 be most useful in assisting pupils to master all the inflections of 
 voice which render singing effective. 
 
 Produce a note in a single breath ; pass gradually through all 
 the timbres, from the brightest to the most sombre ; and then, in 
 another breath, reverse the exercise, by going from the sombre : 
 each note should be given with uniform power throughout. The 
 
1 6 The Actor's Art. 
 
 real efficacy of this exercise, however, is confined to the chest 
 register, and between the notes la 2 and fa jfc 3 ; assisted by the 
 exercise for uniting the registers, it will enable a pupil to master 
 all the movements of the throat, and to produce at will sounds of 
 every description. 
 
 It has been observed that the voice is emitted by two channels ; 
 the second of which is the nose, whose function is to render the 
 voice more sonorous when the mouth is open, and entirely to 
 change sounds, by giving them a nasal tone w r hen the latter is 
 closed, either by the tongue in pronouncing the letter n, or by the 
 lips in sounding m. Italians have no nasal vowels, properly so 
 called ; for with them the nasal echo on n or m only takes place 
 when one of these two consonants begins or ends the syllable, 
 never blending with the vowel sound ; as, for example, 
 A . . . . ngelo, Te . . . . mpo. To conclude, vowels should 
 always be attacked by the stroke of the glottis, and with power 
 suitable to the phrase. Pupils, however, must scrupulously avoid 
 preceding these with an h, or aspiration, for the use of this latter 
 must be confined to sighs, &c; its employment under any other 
 circumstances only alienates the sense of words, or induces 
 faults.* 
 
 OF CONSONANTS. 
 
 Consonants are produced by two different operations of the 
 articulator) 7 organs : — First — By pressure of two parts of the instru- 
 ment against each other, and the explosion of air heard at the 
 moment of their separation. Secondly — From the incomplete and 
 variable meeting of these same organs, and the different and con- 
 tinuous sounds emitted by the air so confined. It is from these 
 two processes that we derive the classification of consonants into 
 explosive and sustained — a division of the first importance in the 
 art of singing and speaking. 
 
 * A very common fault with pupils is to stiffen the elevator-muscles of the 
 jaw. A plan for curing this, is to place sideways, between the upper and 
 lower teeth, a small piece of wood or cork ; likewise a riband may, be passed 
 over the chin, immediately below the lower lip, and tied at the back of the 
 neck. This done, every vowel should be successively practised, with as little 
 effort as possible. 
 
The Actor's Art. 17 
 
 EXPLOSIVE CONSONANTS. 
 
 It is the distinctive character of these consonants to make no 
 noise prior to the explosion which gives them utterance. In 
 forming them, the organs are first closed, and again separated, 
 when the consonant is immediately heard. These two opposite 
 and indispensable movements are called respectively — the pre- 
 paration and explosion of a consonant ; and it is by this process 
 that the letters p, f, /, c (Italian do), and k, are enunciated. 
 During preparation, the air is intercepted and collected ; and the 
 explosion that follows is proportioned to the degree of preparation 
 and amount of air collected to produce it ; an effect much re- 
 sembling that of the stroke of the glottis in attacking simple 
 sounds, o, d, and g hard, also, are reckoned among the explosive 
 consonants ; only the explosion is preceded by a slight noise last- 
 ing while the mouth or pharynx is filling with air, — the former 
 cavity for b and d, the latter for g. 
 
 SUSTAINED CONSONANTS. 
 
 These consonants produce a whistling sound, that may be pro- 
 longed at pleasure, such as di, x, and s ; or else they are given out 
 with a continuous noise, like m, n, gn, /, and gl. The first of 
 these arises from a partial closing of the organs in various ways, 
 which we shall not attempt to describe ; the second is accomplished 
 by their perfed contact* The noise thus emitted may be easily 
 converted into a musical sound \ a transformation which enables 
 a voice to be sustained from one syllable to another, — a result 
 giving a much increased breadth of style. Two articulatory organs 
 always act in combination, and in five principal ways, thus : — 
 
 The lips act together in pronouncing/ and m. 
 
 The upper teeth with the lower lip, as in/ and v. 
 
 The end of the tongue with the teeth, as in t and d. 
 
 The front part of the tongue with the palate, as in n and /. 
 
 The base of the tongue with the palatine arch, as in k and 
 
 g hard. 
 Each of the combinations above enumerated, gives rise to a 
 
 B 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 different class of consonants, and these combined, form the total 
 of the consonants in use. 
 
 In the following table, the consonants have been divided, ac- 
 cording to our view of the subject, into five different classes, 
 grouped according to the names of the organs engaged in producing 
 them, and to their explosive or sustained character, with the suc- 
 cessive organic operations : — . 
 
 
 'Explosive P (pure) 
 
 Complete closing, — silent prepara- 
 tion, — explosion. 
 
 Class I. . 
 
 Explosive B (mixed) 
 
 Complete closing, — slight prepara- 
 
 Labials. 
 
 
 tory sound, — explosion. 
 
 
 Sustained M 
 
 Complete closing, — sustained nasal 
 
 
 w. 
 
 sound, — explosion. 
 
 
 /•Explosive F (pure) 
 
 Complete closing, — silent prepara- 
 tion, — explosion. 
 
 F may be classed either among ex- 
 plosive or sustained sounds, ac- 
 cording to the energy displayed 
 in its articulation. The first effect, 
 
 Class II. 
 
 
 which is also the boldest, helps to 
 
 Labio- 
 
 
 complete the classification. 
 
 dentals. 
 
 Sustained V 
 
 Incomplete closing, — silent pre- 
 paration, — explosion. 
 V may be, according to the will of 
 him who articulates it, either a 
 mixed explosive, or sustained 
 sound. The second of these is 
 
 
 b 
 
 preferable. 
 
 
 'Explosive T (pure) 
 
 Complete closing, — silent prepara- 
 tion, — explosion. 
 
 Class III. 
 
 Explosive D (mixed) 
 
 Complete closing, — slight prepara- 
 
 Linguo- i 
 
 
 tory sound, — explosion. 
 
 dentals. 
 
 Sustained TH (as in English 
 
 Incomplete closing, — sustained 
 
 
 the), the Spanish C (as in 
 
 whistling. 
 
 Class IV. 
 Linguo- 
 palatals. 
 
 cena), Z 
 
 Explosive pure C (Italian cio) Complete closing, — silent prepara- 
 tion, — explosion. 
 Incomplete closing, — sustained 
 
 sounds. 
 Sustained vibration of the tip of 
 
 the tongue. 
 Incomplete closing, — whistlings of 
 different kinds. 
 
 Sustained L, GL. N, GN 
 Sustained R 
 
 Sustained French J, 
 X, hard S, soft S . 
 
 CH, 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 i9 
 
 Class V. 
 Linguo- 
 gutturals. 
 
 'Explosive (pure) C hard, Complete closing, — silent prepara- 
 
 K,Q 
 
 Explosive (mixed) G hard.. 
 
 Incomplete closing 
 
 tion, — explosion. 
 
 Complete closing, — slight prepara- 
 tory sound, — explosion. 
 
 Sustained sound, effected by the 
 vibration of the uvula. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 5 pure explosives : P, F, T, Italian C, hard C, K, Q : Silent pre- 
 paration, — explosion. 
 3 mixed ,, B, D, hard G. — Slight preparatory sound, — 
 
 explosion. 
 5 sustained „ L, GL, M, N, GN. 
 
 Various noises or continued whistlings. — C, H, R, S hard, S 
 soft, X, Z, TH, V, &c. 
 
 Pupils should pay especial attention to the point at which the 
 organs come in contact, and the process which aids them in form- 
 ing each consonant. It is from neglecting to give this subject 
 due attention, that some singers or actors add to the movements 
 required others which are quite useless ; for instance — putting the 
 lips and jaw into action when the tongue alone should be occu- 
 pied. Others, again, languidly drag the organs from one con- 
 sonant to another, and allow the echoing of a vowel, thus : — 
 
 Ise this^ a daggers thate I see before me, 
 The handle towards^ my han;/^df ? 
 Comwe \tite me clutch^ thee, 
 I have thee notte, and yette I see thee stil/<?. 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 ON ACCENTS. 
 
 The human voice exhibits the four following features : — 
 I. The variable duration of the sounds. 
 II. Their timbre. 
 
 III. Their rise or fall in the gamut. 
 
 IV. Their different degrees of intensity. 
 
 In each language it is easy to discern different kinds of 
 accents ; as, for instance — the grammatical accent, written accent, 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 logical or verbal accent, accent of sentiment, and, lastly, the 
 national accent. We shall confine ourselves to the consideration 
 of the grammatical and sentimental accents, as they alone are 
 connected with our subject. 
 
 ON QUANTITY (Accento tonico). 
 
 In speaking, a person, led on by rapidity of thought, stops 
 only at a single point of each word, on the most emphatic sylla- 
 ble, — that, in fact, on which the action of the organs is principally 
 displayed. A strong accent which determines the importance of 
 the emphatic syllable, constitutes what is termed prosody. It is 
 marked, in almost all languages, on one syllable only, in each 
 word, however long that word may be ; and is simply caused by 
 prolonging the time occupied in uttering it. A little attention 
 will soon enable a student to discover the accented portion in a 
 word ; for example : — 
 
 Underneath this stone doth lie, 
 As much beauty as could die ; 
 Which in life did //arbour give, 
 To more virtue than doth live, — 
 If at all she had a fault, 
 Leave it buried in this vault. 
 
 Epitaph on a Lady, (Ben Jonson). 
 
 All words have an accent — even monosyllables ; and this accent 
 varies with the expression of our feelings, the most important 
 word in a phrase always receiving the strongest emphasis. 
 
 EMPHASIS ON CONSONANTS. 
 
 Besides prosodaical accents, a student should consider the 
 stress to be laid on certain consonants ; for example : — 
 ;;/ // 
 
 Temple, netting. 
 This emphasis answers to prolongation of vowels. We will now 
 state under what circumstances consonants should be forcibly 
 pronounced. Firstly, In order to surmount any mechanical diffi- 
 culty of articulation \ secondly, To give strength to the expression of 
 
The Actor's Ar'i 
 
 some sentiment ; thirdly \ To render words audible in large build- 
 ings. Expression depends greatly on the weight and strength given 
 to articulation. Consonants express the force of a sentiment, just as 
 vowels express its nature. We are always impressed by words 
 strongly accentuated, because they appear to be dictated by some 
 acute passion j and of course the most important word should 
 receive the strongest emphasis ; for example : — 
 
 The wind that broods o'er guilty woes 
 Is like the scorpion ^irt by /ire. 
 
 "Remorse" (Lord Byron). 
 
 These consonants, thus marked, add great effect to the phrase. 
 
 The attack of vowels by a stroke of the glottis is alone equally 
 efficacious ; but, in many passages, it would be quite misplaced. 
 
 The necessity for being understood generally causes a speaker 
 to lay a stress upon consonants, in proportion to the size of a 
 building ; hence, emphasis is made stronger in declamation than 
 in speaking, and still more so in song. The last consonant in 
 every syllable ought to be expressed with as much precision as the 
 initiatory one. Negligence in this respect is the chief cause of 
 indistinctness and incorrectness of articulation in singing as in 
 speaking ; for example : — 
 
 How dea*; how keen, how marvellously brigh/ 
 
 The effluence from yon mountain'^ distan/ bed, 
 
 Whic/j stroww wi//j snow as smooM as heaven ca« she^, 
 
 Shines like another sun on morta/ sigh/, 
 
 Uprisen as if to chec/& approaching nigh/, 
 
 An^ all her twinkli;^ starj. 
 
 "The Mountain Top," Nov. ist, 1815 (\V. Wordsworth). 
 
 FULNESS AND STEADINESS OF VOICE IN 
 PRONOUNCING WORDS. 
 
 In singing or speaking, if a singer or actor is unable to render 
 the emission of his voice independent of the articulation of con- 
 sonants, the organ receives a certain shock, which destroys all 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 roundness, firmness, and connection of sounds. To obviate this 
 inconvenience, it is requisite to distinguish the functions and 
 mode of action peculiar to each of the four sets of organs in the 
 vocal apparatus, and that each should perform its respective 
 functions without interfering with any others ; for where one 
 organ performs its duties imperfectly, — if the chest should slacken 
 the emission of air, — if the glottis be wanting in power, if the flow 
 of voice be interrupted or weakened after each sentence ; if the 
 pharynx form timbres inappropriate to the sentiment, — or if the 
 organs of articulation, incongruously blended, lack the clearness 
 and precision desirable, a singer is said to want method, and an 
 actor to be a bad speaker. 
 
 To conclude, we may say that the enunciation of words should 
 be blended with the voice, so that there should be an uninter- 
 rupted flow T of musical sound especially where eloquent persuasion, 
 or tenderness, have to be expressed. We have still to point out 
 another great fault, and that is a laughable break in the voice 
 (scrocchi di voce). Actors, public speakers, as well as singers, must 
 guard against this ridiculous noise. If during the articulation of 
 certain consonants, or the vocalisation of certain passages on 
 high notes, a pupil should neglect to sustain his breath with 
 great resolution, the glottis being naturally obliged to contract its 
 dimensions to produce high notes, will completely close, and stop 
 the voice, re-opening with a ridiculous explosion the instant 
 afterwards. 
 
 PHRASEOLOGY. 
 
 Diction, or the art of phrasing, requires besides all the physical 
 qualities and acquirements already stated, a thorough intelligence 
 in the treatment of the sentiments that are to be expressed. 
 
 The following rules must necessarily be observed : — 
 
 I. Accent every word slightly. 
 
 II. Cause the principal sentiment of a speech to pre- 
 dominate. 
 
The Actor's Art. 23 
 
 III. Mark every particular sentiment in every phrase by 
 putting proper emphasis on the words ; observe ap- 
 propriate pauses so as to have repose in the diction, 
 thus avoiding precipitation and confusion ; take breath 
 in the proper places (a point which is often totally dis- 
 regarded by singers) ; avoid a monotonous prosody or 
 rhythm in the general movement of a phrase, not 
 beginning each phrase loudly and ending it softly. 
 
 In subsequent chapters on the analysis of different scenes, we 
 will give a quotation with analytic explanations, combining diction 
 and action. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 RULES TO BE OBSERVED IN THE CONCERT-ROOM. 
 
 WHEN the artiste appears before the public, his general 
 appearance should be such as to excite interest. He 
 must ascend the platform deliberately, not running up the steps, 
 and proceed at once to the place he intends occupying ; keeping 
 his head upright, without stiffness or affectation. Should any- 
 thing be in his way as he walks to his place, let him wait until it 
 is removed, as too much precipitation would cause confusion, or 
 betray nervous excitement. Having reached his place on the 
 platform, the artiste will stand erect facing the public and looking 
 straight before him ; his body firmly balanced on the feet, heel to 
 heel, without awkwardness or stiffness, and the knees straightened ; 
 the general appearance indicative of self-possession and confidence. 
 Let him carefully avoid looking round to acknowledge his friends 
 by glance or gesture. Such an act of familiarity would not only 
 be taken for an excess of confidence, but would divert his mind 
 from his work. Having assumed his position, his next action will 
 be to acknowledge, with a bow, the reception given to him by 
 the public. 
 
 In the salutation to the public, anything like an appearance of 
 
The Actor : s Art. 
 
 25 
 
 servility should be avoided. It is an act of courtesy, not a request 
 for indulgence, or for favourable criticism. On the other hand, 
 any expression of familiarity, such as is sometimes seen on the 
 part of popular favourites, in gestures of the hand (placing it on 
 the heart or waving it) is awkward and vulgar ; the hands should 
 hang quietly by the sides. 
 
 Care must be taken not to stick the elbows out, as is often done, 
 or to bow too much from the waist, as the result would be more 
 grotesque than graceful. In fact, a slow and gentle inclination of 
 the head and shoulders is quite sufficient. 
 
 When the bow has been made 
 the head and shoulders are raised, 
 and the eyes are again directed 
 forward. 
 
 The curtsy is the proper 
 salutation for the lady to make 
 on appearing on the platform. 
 Above all, it should be quiet and 
 graceful, and not too low. Kiss- 
 ing of hands, in acknowledgment 
 of applause, is to be deprecated. 
 
 When seated before the public, 
 great attention must be paid to 
 the following rules. Never cross 
 the legs : as it is an attitude of a 
 familiar and careless appearance. 
 The knees must not be far apart, 
 as it would cause the toes to be 
 turned inwards ; this again would 
 be a very awkward position. The 
 correct way of sitting is with one 
 foot slightly more forward than 
 the other (Fig. 1), the hands 
 holding the music, the arms close 
 to the body : the body itself leaning well back in the chair, so as 
 to present an erect and dignified, although at the same time an 
 
 Fig. 
 
26 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 unassuming position. The act of sitting down and getting up 
 must be performed slowly and with care, so as not to betray 
 nervousness, or, on the other hand, to cause a painful impression 
 by a careless or vulgar movement, or demeanour, such as is shown 
 in Figs. 2 and 3. 
 
 The expression of the face must be pleasant, and betray neither 
 
 Fig. 2. 
 
 fear nor anxiety, as the effect would be painful for those who have 
 come to see as well as hear. In the act of singing the mouth must 
 not be opened too widely, but simply the width of the first finger ; 
 nor yet contracted at the sides, so as not to disfigure the usual 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 27 
 
 expression of the face. The eyebrows must not be lifted up. In 
 breathing, great care must be taken not to lift the shoulders. 
 
 Fig. 3. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON ACTING. 
 
 ( Vera ars est a?'tem celare.) 
 
 TO act, from the Latin agere, does not mean to throw one's self 
 into all sorts of attitudes, or to discard nature, in order to 
 submit to theatrical conventionalities. It simply means, to make 
 movements, or action. In speaking, we give force to our words by 
 appropriate motions of the body and limbs, as well as by the 
 expression of the face. In so doing we simply follow the impulse 
 of nature. Therefore, to be natural is the first consideration for 
 an actor. We differ in our movements according to our tempera- 
 ment and to our nationalities. Every nation — and in some cases 
 we might even say each separate great division of a nation — has 
 its typical actions, movements, expressions, as it has its separate 
 dialects. The pantomimic action of a Neapolitan differs totally 
 from that of a Lombard. The actor, whose calling it is to im- 
 personate different characters, as well as different nationalities, 
 will have to study and observe human nature in order to become 
 thoroughly acquainted with others' characters and imitate their 
 gestures with perfect ease \ in fact, to assimilate his own nature to 
 theirs. This is the true art which always proves irresistible. In 
 
The Actor's Art. 29 
 
 order to obtain this result it is necessary that the actor should restrict 
 himself as far as possible to the parts which best suit his physical 
 qualifications. Otherwise he will be obliged to resort to conven- 
 tional means which the traditions left by other actors will give 
 him, and which will be in many cases unsuited to his own nature. 
 Thus he will fail to impress on others what he does not feel him- 
 self. Who would care to see Othello, short, feeble, with a meagre 
 voice ? It is necessary that in his appearance the Moor should 
 realise Shakespeare's ideal of the warrior, the man of the camp, 
 who loves the " pomp and circumstance of glorious war." What- 
 ever may be the line of acting an actor chooses, tragedy, melo- 
 drama, high or low comedy, he must always idealise his im- 
 personation according to the character he has to represent, and 
 also follow the gradations of nature, which always vary in our 
 passions with more or less intensity. In so doing he will be 
 natural. What could be more absurd than Iago playing his part 
 with the voice and manners of Banquo's murderers in Macbeth, 
 although he be a murderer himself. One would wonder at such 
 a man being in such good society. Taking even Banquo's assas- 
 sins, although men of rough manners, what would be the feeling 
 of the spectator if they were to present themselves before Macbeth 
 in an abject garb, assuming the revolting manners and voice of 
 convicts, addressing him as they would a fellow of their own stamp. 
 Such an interpretation would entirely destroy the effect of a highly- 
 impressive scene — Macbeth himself would not appeal to feelings 
 of outraged honour and revenge in such miscreants. Such low 
 familiarity on their part would little harmonise with the language 
 Shakespeare put into their mouths, — First Murderer: " We are 
 men, my liege." Second Murderer : M I am one, my liege, whom 
 the vile blows and buffets of the world have so incensed, that I 
 am reckless what I do to spite the world," &c. 
 
 Such intense determination does not admit of exuberance of 
 gesticulation nor of a gruff loud tone of voice ; and yet, by inferior 
 actors these are often associated with the parts, because the men 
 are murderers, — a murderer, with them, being necessarily of the 
 " Bill Sykes " type. There are, in fact, several degrees of refine- 
 
30 The Actor's Art. 
 
 ment in the interpretation of a part ; let the actor always choose 
 the higher degree. 
 
 The expression of the face, and the outward action by gestures, 
 &c, being the reflex of our sentiments, the " mirror of our soul," 
 modes of acting are infinitely varied. Our aim is to classify each 
 movement of the. face or action of the body according to the 
 sentiments or passion that is to be expressed. We will consider 
 these passions and feelings in different chapters, giving an analysis 
 of their particular treatment. It would be impossible, in anything 
 like the limits of the present volume, to give all the varieties of 
 combined actions, as they are infinite ; we will, therefore, give the 
 fundamental rules for acting, with a general analysis of sentiments 
 and passions. 
 
 When once the foundation is laid, let the artiste work upon it 
 according to his own nature. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW TO WALK THE STAGE.— PRACTICES. 
 
 THE method of walking, or what we generally call gait or 
 carnage, is one of the characteristic features which reflect 
 the sentiments of the mind either in its temporary or normal 
 state. The walk of a man of thoughtful, steady mind is regular, 
 although it may by nature be either quick or slow. On the 
 contrary, when the soul is assailed by turbulent or uncertain 
 thoughts of different kinds, the walk becomes unsteady and 
 undecided. Macbeth, whose mind is full of violent passions, 
 has no repose in his movements. His walk is irregular, uncer- 
 tain ; his steps are at timesJong, at others^hort ; sometimes he 
 will stop suddenly. In one word, his feet cannot carry him too 
 fast when he anticipates the future, nor move too slowly when he 
 considers the past. Othello betrays the agonies of his mind 
 especially in the last scene with Desdemona, when his walk 
 indicates every phase of his torture. The walk is also typical of 
 jige, habits, and occupation in life. 
 
 Elegance and ease being the first desideratum for actors, we 
 will state in this chapter the general rules to be observed, pointing 
 out at the same time the faults to be avoided, and subdividing 
 each action belonging to the walk into special practices. 
 
32 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 I. Cross the stage from the left to the right corner, keeping 
 close to the footlights, the left of the actor as he faces the public 
 being the right of the spectator. 
 
 R -»-— +- L 
 
 Suppose the actor stand- 
 ing, in what is called in 
 dancing the second posi- 
 tion, on the left-hand corner 
 of the stage, and three- 
 parts turned towards the 
 public, — the right foot 
 being the foremost ; the 
 toes slightly turned out, 
 the body erect and well 
 balanced on the left foot ; 
 both legs straight, both feet 
 resting firmly on the ground, 
 the arms and hands hang- 
 ing down naturally without 
 stiffness. In this position, 
 which he will keep through- 
 out the following practices, 
 he will start with the left 
 foot, making his strides 
 rather longer than in the 
 ordinary walk, and walk- 
 ing with a slow and regular 
 step. 
 
 The mechanical actions 
 in walking the stage are 
 these : — the foot does_not 
 leave the ground suddenly, 
 nor yet does the heel come 
 down first. The toes are 
 the last to leave the ground, 
 and the first to touch it ; 
 
The Actor's Art. 33 
 
 the body balancing itself gracefully on each leg as the stride is 
 taken ; whilst the knees, slightly bent during each action of the 
 legsTwill become straightened, the instant the foot rests on the 
 ground. As the pupil becomes more at home on the stage, he will 
 lose the conventionality or stiffness that invariably, at first, attends 
 all physical exercises. 
 
 On reaching the right-hand corner of the stage, the student 
 must manage so as to finish his walk with the second position, 
 the right foot being the foremost (see Fig. 4). 
 
 II. Being in the above attitude he will then turn half round 
 without changing his position, thus finding himself again in the 
 second position, the left foot being foremost. He will then start 
 on the right foot, and will cross the stage back again to the left- 
 hand corner, observing the same rules as in number one practice. 
 
 This and all the following exercises, will have to be repeated 
 until the pupil has acquired perfect ease in all his movements. 
 
 III. Descending and Ascending the Stage. — Suppose the 
 pupil standing in the second position at the very back of the 
 stage, in the centre and facing the public, — he will start, directing 
 his steps to the prompter's box, supposed to be in the centre of 
 the front ; having reached this within a foot, he will find himself 
 in the second position. Then turning half round, as before, he 
 will walk up the stage taking the same direction, until he has 
 reached the back of the stage. 
 
 IV. Walking a Measured Distance. — To walk a measured 
 distance, we must suppose two points ; one the left-hand corner 
 of the stage, the other a chair placed in the middle of the stage — 
 the left-hand corner near the footlights being the starting-point. 
 The student will first measure the exact distance between the two 
 points. Having done so, he will next calculate the number of 
 steps to be taken. Before starting he will assume the second 
 position and then advance towards the chair, starting with the left 
 foot first ; on reaching the chair, he must find himself precisely in 
 the second position, with the right foot foremost (see Fig. 4). 
 
 V. The student will repeat the above practice, starting from the 
 right-hand corner. In this instance he will step forward with his 
 
 c 
 
34 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 right foot first ; and, in approaching the chair, will find himself in 
 number two position with the left foot foremost. 
 
 VI. Rules in Walking Measured Distances. — If we com- 
 pare Figs. 4 and 5, we see at once the advantage of the position 
 Fig. 4 over Fig. 5, which latter is extremely awkward. This 
 awkwardness can always be avoided by 
 observing the following rule. Suppose 
 a distance of two, four, six, eight, or ten 
 feet, from the left-hand side of the stage 
 to the chair ; the pupil, starting with the 
 left foot, will always find himself close to 
 the chair with the right foot foremost 
 (Fig. 4)- 
 
 If the distance between the two points 
 is three, five, seven, nine, or eleven feet, 
 he will have to start with the right foot ; 
 although it may be the foremost in the 
 second position. In addition, give the 
 even numbers to the left foot, and the odd 
 numbers to the right foot. 
 
 We may add, that this second position 
 allows the actor to turn alternately towards 
 a person on the stage, or to the public, 
 scarcely moving his body. The simple 
 fact of turning his heels a few degrees 
 right or left, will suffice to leave him 
 perfect freedom of action, without causing 
 awkward attitudes. 
 
 VII. The same practice must be per- 
 formed from the right-hand side of the 
 stage, giving the even numbers to the right 
 foot, and the odd to the left. 
 VIII. Interrupted Walks. — Instead of walking a measured 
 distance without pauses or interruptions, let it be done in different 
 stages For instance, — take two steps, and stop ; three steps, and 
 stop — four steps, and stop, &c. Combine the number of steps 
 
 Fig. 5. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 35 
 
 and stoppages according to the distance to be walked ; care being 
 taken to fall into the second position at every pause. 
 
 IX. Should the walk be interrupted at every step, the position 
 number one will have to be assumed ; that is heel against heel at 
 every stoppage.* (Fig. 6.) 
 
 X. Backward Steps. — In walking the stage backwards, the 
 student must be careful to 
 
 balance his body well back 
 at every step, which must be 
 taken slowly, whilst the foot 
 will rest firmly on the ground. 
 Thus he will avoid stumbling 
 or awkwardness in the general 
 attitude. He will stop at 
 every back step, observing 
 the second position at every 
 stoppage. 
 
 A Staggering Walk is 
 frequently resorted to to ex- 
 press different emotions, such 
 as fear, or terror, when the 
 actor staggers back from an 
 object or simply walks away 
 from it without losing sight of 
 it. The above actions can be 
 modified by varying the num- 
 ber of steps in each different 
 stage : for instance, taking 
 either one, two, or three steps 
 before each pause. 
 
 XL Combination of the 
 Forward and Backward 
 Steps. — This walk can be 
 acquired by combining the above practices. Suppose the student 
 
 * N.B. — These practices will have to be repeated in different directions 
 off the stage. 
 
 Fig. 6. 
 
36 The Actor's Art. 
 
 standing in the second position, he will take one, two, or more 
 steps forward ; then stopping, he will turn half round and walk 
 back in the same manner, observing strictly the rules stated on 
 page 33, second practice, page 34, sixth practice. Having 
 practised this forward and interrupted walk on different parts 
 of the stage, he will repeat the same practice with the backward 
 steps, — that is : he will walk backwards a certain distance, and 
 turning round, will walk once more backwards ; and so again the 
 same distance. 
 
 Lastly he will combine the two — for instance, he will walk 
 forward a certain distance, and zvithout turning round will walk 
 back again in a backward attitude in the very same direction. Let 
 it be remembered that at every stoppage he must always find 
 himself in the position shown in Fig. 4, and never in the position 
 shown in Fig. 5. 
 
 We would also impress on the student that the toes must never 
 be allowed to turn inwards, either in the action of walking or of 
 turning round. 
 
 As the size of the stage varies according to the construction of 
 the theatre, it becomes a necessity for the actor to count the 
 number of steps he has to take. By doing so he becomes an 
 excellent judge of distances, and knows exactly the spot on which 
 to concentrate the different actions of each scene. Neglect in this 
 particular often leads to ridiculous positions. We remember 
 seeing, in Paris, an actress who, being supposed to fall dead in 
 front of the stage, advanced so near the footlights that she had to 
 get up suddenly to avoid the weight of the drop scene, which 
 would have crushed her. 
 
 If Valentine, for instance, in his death scene in Faust, were to 
 miscalculate the spot on which he has to fall, and staggered back 
 too near the wings, he would crowd the large body of chorus 
 singers into a narrow corner of the stage, thus utterly marring the 
 general effect of the scene. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 37 
 
 CLASSIFICATION OF THE DIFFERENT WALKS. 
 
 In music all sentiments are expressed by gradations of sound, 
 otherwise known as light and shade. These gradations are 
 included between the pianissimo and fortissimo. In acting, the 
 light and shade, or the obvious 
 intensity of our sentiments, 
 can be expressed in a similar 
 manner, by the gradations 
 that can be realised between 
 two extreme actions, that is 
 between a short and a long 
 step. For instance, a short or 
 long step taken slowly corre- 
 sponds to the idea of a gentle 
 or reflective state of mind — 
 quick steps, short or long, to 
 an agitated or energetic tem- 
 per. As already stated, the ' 
 walk is typical of the senti- ^ 
 ments and passions as well as 
 of the different callings in life. 
 We will, therefore, classify the 
 walks by indicating the kind 
 of steps suitable to the char- 
 acters to be represented, as 
 well as the actions of the legs. 
 
 Short quick steps are char- 
 acteristic of young people, 
 whose souls are full of illusion ; 
 whose sentiments are keen, 
 and who are alive to all the 
 sensations that a young mind 
 is ready to receive. — Age and debility will cause old people to take 
 short, tottering steps. The legs in this case will give way at the 
 knee; the feet being lifted up from the ground with some difficulty 
 
 Fig. 7. {See next page. ) 
 
38 The Actor's Art. 
 
 will cause the toes to drag on the ground. — Stout people generally 
 take short steps, owing to the .difficulty they experience in balanc- 
 ing the weighty body on each leg. ' Old, yet active people often 
 resort to quick short steps. — Persons belonging to the lower 
 stations of life, such as servants, whose calling requires rapidity of 
 movement, — for instance, Suzanna and Figaro in Beaumarchais' 
 Mariage de Figaro, will naturally adopt quick, short steps. — 
 For comedy, where the sentiments rarely work up to violent 
 passions, the steps never exceed the stride of ordinary life. — When 
 there is an intention of caricaturing, a long step is often used in 
 farce or comical parts. The incongruity between the stately stride 
 and the commonplace situation always produces a humorous effect. 
 — Bashfulness, or a sense of guilt, will show itself in short, slow steps 
 in the direction of a superior or an accuser. — Short slow steps are 
 typical of submission, gentleness, kindness, modesty, shyness, 
 veneration, reflection. They are associated, as a rule, with quiet or 
 gentle minds. — Long and slow steps betray meditation or great 
 designs, dignity, concentration of thought, pride. — Long and quick 
 steps are indications of strong sentiments, Of feverish minds, or 
 outbursts of passion. — Fear, terror, astonishment will cause a 
 person to stop abruptly at every one, two, or three steps ; or 
 stagger a few steps forward and then backward. — Indecision, un- 
 certainty, hesitation will be shown in walking to and fro, backward 
 and forward — the direction of our steps, following the changing 
 impulse of the mind. — Reflection is shown in frequent pauses. 
 
 CHARACTERISTIC WALKS. 
 
 Affected Pride. — Fig. 7 is the illustration of this sentiment. — 
 The toes are conspicuously turned out ; the leg is well straight- 
 ened ; the steps are slow and measured. — Leslie's picture of 
 Malvolio gives the idea of this thoroughly. 
 
 Vanity. — The walk somewhat resembles that of Fig. 7, with 
 this difference that the toes are more gracefully turned out. — The 
 strides are rather shorter : a little more modesty is apparent in the 
 general action, although the walk is at the same time strikingly 
 typical of a man in love with his personal appearance (Fig. 8). 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 39 
 
 Pride of Physical Power. — Fig. 9 represents a man who, in 
 impressing his arguments, relies more on the strength of his fist 
 and muscular power than on his mental capacity. His feet rest 
 firm and flat on the ground. The man stands withTiis legs far 
 
 Fig. 
 
 apart — his walk is heavy and slow T , and in that resembles the 
 normal state of his mind. 
 
 Walking on tiptoe is emblematic of mystery, discretion, curiosity, 
 
4o 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 surprise (Fig. 10). — The toes turned in belong to persons who for 
 some reason are absent-minded, or whose thoughts are preoccupied, 
 — to men accustomed to reflection and study, therefore regardless 
 of personal appearance. 
 
 Persons imbued with a sense of their own importance, such as 
 
 country officials, or mayors, 
 or any such small -digni- 
 taries, show their sense of 
 authority by such deport- 
 ment as shown in Figs. 1 1 
 and 12. 
 
 Walk of a Drunkard. 
 — The walk of a drunkard 
 is, like his thoughts, dis- 
 orderly — he steps forward, 
 backward, right or left, 
 trying in vain to keep his 
 balance. His knees are 
 always on the point of 
 giving way. If he stands 
 still, his toes and heels will 
 indicate the movements of 
 a ship pitching up and 
 down. As there are many 
 degrees of drunkenness, 
 there are also many modi- 
 fications to be observed in 
 imitating a drunkard's walk. 
 When the Count Almaviva, 
 in the Barber of Seville \ 
 enters the house of Don 
 Bartolo and demands a night's lodging, he assumes the demeanour 
 of a drunken soldier — this walk will be uncertain and tottering, 
 and yet it will be that of a gentleman. 
 
 Tragic actors are apt to walk so heavily that the whole of the 
 body seems to receive a sort of concussion at each step. This 
 
 Fig. io. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 4* 
 
 mars the harmony of tljeir action and destroys the illusion of the 
 public, who see a stiff actor instead of one whose deportment is 
 
 graceful and easy. Others drag their toes on the ground, thus 
 assuming a pompous and ridiculous appearance (Fig. 13). 
 
42 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 The walk of a drunkard offers such variety, and is so often 
 misunderstood, that it would be too long a task to point out all 
 the faults that should be avoided. We must therefore refer the 
 reader to Chapter XIII., in which general observations are given. 
 
 Fig. 13. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE HAND AND ARM. 
 
 MONTAIGNE has said : — " Quoy des mains ? nous 
 requerons, nous promettons, appelons, congedions, 
 menaQons, prions, supplions, nions, refusons, interrogeons, 
 admirons, nombrons, confessons, repentons, craignons, ver- 
 goignons, doutons, instruisons, incitons, encourageons, jurons, 
 temoignons, accusons, condamnons, absolvons, injurions, Dis- 
 prisons, deffions, flattens, applaudissons, benissons, humilions, 
 moquons, reconcilions, recommandons, exaltons, festoyons, 
 rejouissons, complaignons, attristons, deconfortons, desesperons, 
 estimons, escrions, taisons ; et quoy non ? d'une variation et 
 multiplication k Tenvy de la langue." 
 
 To sum up Montaigne's idea : — The formation of the hand is 
 indeed the true reflector of our natural disposition. By its actions 
 we betray our sentiments, our passions and aspirations. 
 
 If we study the figures in the following cuts we find the follow- 
 ing expressions : — 
 
 Nos. I and 2. — Command, mingled with kindness. No. 3. — Consolation, 
 gentle touching exhortations. No. 4. — Command, authority. No. 5. — Grace. 
 No. 6. — Physical enjoyment. No. 7. — Gentle disposition. No. 8. — Elevated 
 mind, taste, dexterity. No. 9. — Refinement. No. 10. — Persuasive eloquence, 
 kindly pleading. No. 11. — Imploring. No. 12. — Energy, capable of great 
 undertakings. No. 13. — Dignity, wisdom, experience. 
 
44 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Such expressions of hands as we see in these designs would 
 not belong to coarse or low natures, nor yet to people employed 
 in manual work. The exquisite harmony existing between all the 
 fingers, as well as their graceful attitudes, denote gentle or noble 
 sentiments. The thumb gives force and vigour to the hand : with 
 it we tighten our grasp. A thin nervous thumb, capable of curving 
 back, is emblematic of great refinement, and also of determination. 
 The first finger or index is, after the thumb, the most useful part 
 of the hand. Its freedom of articulation causes us to use it in 
 almost every action of life. We point, command, work with it. 
 What can be more graceful than the expression of the thumb and 
 first finger in Fig. n. The other three fingers, although they 
 complete the harmonious formation of the hand, are only con- 
 tributors, whilst the index and thumb are the most direct and 
 useful agents of our actions. 
 
 No. i. 
 Command mingled with kindness. 
 
 No. 2. 
 Command mingled with kindness. 
 
 Consolation, gentle touching 
 exhortation. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 45 
 
 No. 4. 
 Command, authority. 
 
 No. 5. 
 Grace. 
 
 No. 7. 
 Gentle disposition. 
 
 No. 8. 
 Elevated mind, taste and dexterity. 
 
 No. 6. 
 Physical enjoyment. 
 
 No. 9. 
 Sensuality. 
 
46 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 No. 10. 
 
 Persuasive eloquence, kindly 
 
 pleading. 
 
 No. 12. 
 
 Energy, capable of great 
 
 undertakings. 
 
 No. ii. 
 
 Imploring. 
 
 No. 13. 
 Dignity, wisdom, experience. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ACTIONS OF THE ARMS 
 AND HANDS. 
 
 IT is obvious that our actions 
 receive their impulse from 
 our minds. If our thoughts 
 take a certain direction, the 
 body will naturally follow it. 
 In addressing a person on our 
 right hand, or if we wish to point 
 or make a sign to the right, it 
 would seem but natural that we 
 should make use of the right 
 hand : yet it is a very common 
 fault amongst actors to ignore 
 this impulse of nature, and do 
 exactly the reverse, using the 
 left hand whilst the body is 
 turned to the right, and the right 
 hand whilst the body turns to 
 the left : thus assuming the very 
 awkward position of Fig. 14. 
 
 We strongly advise students 
 not to fall into this error. 
 
 The action of the arms 
 follows the impulse of our 
 
 Fig. 14. 
 
- 4 8 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 thoughts. A calm thought will prompt a quiet action. The 
 arm will move slowly, without abruptness ; scarcely raised as in 
 Fig. 15. 
 
 Fig. 15. 
 
 Such an action would correspond to such words like these : 
 " My friends, I come before you with this plea." 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 49 
 
 Should the thought assume more importance, the arms will be 
 raised as in Fig. 16: — 
 
 Fig. 16. 
 
 " See, now, how good a thing is offered here." 
 D 
 
5° 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Should the sentiment be strong, the thought will prompt the 
 arm to rise rapidly, and assume at once an energetic expression ; 
 (Figs. 17 and 18). 
 
 Fig. 17. 
 
 Fig. 17 would suggest the idea of religion enunciated with 
 veneration, as in these lines : — 
 
 " I have a brother is condemned to die ; 
 I do beseech you, let it be his fault, 
 And not my brother." 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 5i 
 
 Fig. 18 appeals to Heaven to chastise the wicked. The feeling 
 being much stronger, the hand is raised to its highest position, as 
 in these lines : — 
 
 " Heaven is above all yet : there sits a judge 
 Whom no king can corrupt." 
 
 Fig. 18. 
 
 It is between the two extreme actions of Figs. 15 and 18 that the 
 student must learn to express the numberless gradations of the 
 different sentiments. 
 
52 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 PRELIMINARY STUDIES. 
 
 FIRST PRACTICE. 
 
 The first study for the pupil will 
 be to learn how to regulate the action 
 of his arms and hands. Let us 
 suppose the body in the second 
 position, (Fig. 4), the arms hanging 
 down perfectly loose and powerless. 
 Imagine a string tied to the wrist 
 and passed through a pulley secured 
 to the ceiling. 
 
 Fig. 19. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 53 
 
 In pulling that string gently, 
 the hand will droop down and 
 the arm will be gracefully rounded 
 at the elbow as it is slowly raised. 
 The pulling will cease as soon as 
 the wrist is brought on a level 
 with the chin ; the hand will then 
 raise itself slowly, and gently 
 turn the palm upwards ; when 
 in that position, the hand, still 
 sustained by the string, will fall 
 naturally, as in Fig. 20, 
 
 Fig. 20. 
 
54 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 the thumb extended without stiff- 
 ness, and the fingers gracefully 
 rounded. As soon as this position 
 is obtained, the string will be lowered 
 very slowly, and as the arm resumes 
 its position, the palm of the hand 
 will gradually turn downward and 
 fall back to its former position,- v the 
 string being suddenly let loose, (Fig. 
 
 21). 
 
 Fig. 21. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 55 
 
 This method of practising will teach the pupil how to raise and 
 lower the arms and hands naturally and gracefully, and also to 
 avoid the awkward actions of Figs. 22, 23, 24, 25. 
 
 Fig. 22. 
 
56 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 23. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 57 
 
 f-& 
 
 Fig. 24. 
 
 SECOND PRACTICE. 
 
 The left arm and hand will then be submitted to the same 
 careful exercise. 
 
58 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 25. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 EXPRESSION of favourable sentiments is given by the 
 action of the arms and hands, the palm of the hands having 
 a tendency upwards. 
 
 THE PALM OF THE HAND. 
 
 We express our sentiments by the direction we give to the palm 
 of the hand. If the sentiment we wish to indicate is favourable, 
 the hand will take an upward direction, and the reverse where the 
 sentiment is unfavourable. The hand repels with the palm, or 
 protects with it the senses affected ; these gestures having a down- 
 ward direction. On the contrary, in prayer, or the expression of 
 friendship, love, &c, the hand displays the palm and assumes an 
 upward direction. 
 
 All favourable sentiments are inspired by Heaven j hence this 
 tendency to direct our actions upwards, and also to turn towards 
 the earth when prompted by our angry passions. 
 
 In order to attain perfect ease and freedom of action, we would 
 recommend the pupir to express by appropriate actions of the 
 hands as many different sentiments as possible, and in the follow- 
 ing manner : — 
 
6o 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 FIRST STUDY. 
 
 Suppose the pupil standing in the third position, between two 
 chairs placed in a line and intended to represent two persons ; his 
 
 Fig. 26. 
 
 body will be three-parts turned towards the public, and he will 
 stand about one foot behind the line of the chairs, which are 
 placed at a distance of six feet from each other. He will address 
 
The Actor's Art. 6i 
 
 the person on his right, and his first movement will correspond to 
 an impassioned expression, such as : 
 
 " What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance." 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 The arm scarcely moved from the body ; the palm of the hand 
 slightly turned upward, the fingers bent without effort. 
 
 Fig. 26 is the quietest action that could possibly follow the 
 entire repose of the body. Such a movement would correspond 
 to gentle, calm sentiments, such as indifference, submission, 
 esteem, veneration. The soul being in a state of repose prompts 
 a corresponding action. 
 
 SECOND STUDY. 
 
 Suppose that the sentiment to be expressed should assume a 
 higher degree of intensity, the actions will become more decided : 
 the hand will naturally be raised higher, whilst the arm will 
 become slightly more distant from the body. 
 
 GRADATION IN THE ACTIONS. 
 
 We may state that so long as in their movement the hands do 
 not rise above the waist, they express sentiments of a quieter 
 nature, such as we have stated in the above first study — but so 
 soon as the hands are raised above the waist, and therefore reach 
 the chest, which is the source whence spring all our sentiments, 
 the centre of our activity, their expression assumes much greater 
 force, much more intensity. The expression of the hands in 
 Fig. 7 would correspond to the following sentiment : — 
 
 " What you have said 
 I will consider ; what you have to say, 
 I will with patience hear." 
 
 The hand is raised higher, and the arm more distant from the 
 body than in Fig. 26. 
 
62 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 THIRD STUDY. 
 
 The hand raised above the waist, the arms distant from the 
 body, the fingers close together, and the palm of the hand well 
 exposed to the view, as in Fig. 2 7, 
 
 Fig. 2j. 
 
 all tend to express a strong sentiment, such as demand, request, 
 equity, decision, assertion, &c. 
 
 " I shower a welcome on you ; welcome all !" 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 63 
 
 FOURTH STUDY. 
 
 Where the sentiment is that of honour, of dignity, of pride, the 
 hand will naturally cover the chest, Fig, 28. 
 
 Fig. 28. 
 
 This action might be appropriate to the following phrase : 
 •' And this, as from my very heart, I speak." 
 
6 4 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Although the palm of the hand is hidden in this action, yet we 
 have introduced it in this chapter in order to show the gradual 
 raising of the hands. 
 
 FIFTH STUDY. 
 
 Sentiments of gratitude, kind wishes, love, admiration, will be 
 expressed by a graceful combination of action. The hand will press 
 
 Fig. 29. 
 
 on the heart, and extend towards the object of our admiration ; or 
 else will be raised in a line with the chin, and, approaching the 
 mouth convey by a gentle opening of the fingers and a graceful 
 movement of the arms, the expression of our kind sentiments. 
 The expression of the Figs. 29 and 30, would be admirably suited 
 to this phrase : — 
 
 11 Dear love, adieu !" 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 65 
 
 If our sentiments assume a sense of desire, the hand is naturally 
 directed towards the coveted object, the arms stretch out, and the 
 fingers curl up as in the act of receiving or grasping. 
 
 Fig. 30. 
 
66 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 SIXTH STUDY. 
 
 If one of our senses is excited, the hand following the impulse 
 of our sentiment will be directed towards it, as in Fig. 31, 
 
 Fig. 31. 
 
 in the attitude of listening. The palm of the hand is placed near 
 the ear, as if to concentrate the sound. 
 
 " Hark ! Peace > 
 It was the owl that shrieked ! " 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 67 
 
 SEVENTH STUDY. 
 
 If our sentiments assume a nobler form such as the idea of 
 Heaven, our action will naturally be more elevated. 
 
 In speaking of Heaven as a collective idea of God, the action 
 will be somewhat similar to that of Pig. 32. 
 
 Fig. 32. 
 
 " And He that doth the ravens feed, 
 Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
 Be comfort to mine age ! " 
 
68 The Actor's Art. 
 
 If we appeal to Heaven itself, the action will not only be more 
 energetic, but the first finger will point to the region where our 
 imagination pictures the Deity to be (Fig. 18). 
 
 EIGHTH STUDY. 
 The above studies will be repeated with the left hand. 
 
 NINTH STUDY. 
 
 The pupil having acquired perfect ease, first with the right, and 
 afterwards with the left hand, will repeat the same studies address- 
 ing the person on the right and on the left alternately, — advancing 
 one, two, or more steps every time towards each chair. The walk 
 will vary according to the sentiment to be expressed : that is, it 
 will be slow and dignified, or short and abrupt. 
 

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 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EXPRESSION of unfavour- 
 able sentiments — tend- 
 ency of the palm of the hands 
 downwards. 
 
 FIRST STUDY. 
 
 Suppose the student stand- 
 ing in the second position, with 
 his arms folded on his chest 
 (Fig. 33), or hanging down, or 
 crossed on his back. 
 
 1 
 
 Fig. 33. 
 
7° 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 When a sense of doubt or surprise rushes on us we instinctively 
 stretch our hand out, the palm being turned downwards, the arm 
 extending itself from the body, the fingers becoming slightly 
 crooked, as in Fig. 34. 
 
 Fig. 34. 
 
 An unpleasant sight or a sudden disagreeable word, such as : 
 1 \ Though thou speakest truth, 
 Methinks thou speakest not well ! " 
 would cause this action. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 7i 
 
 SECOND STUDY. 
 
 If a sense of disgust, fear, contempt, anger, takes the place of 
 doubt, the actions will be similar to those of- Figs. 35, 36, 37, 38. 
 
 Fig. 35. 
 
72 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 36. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 73 
 
 Fig. 37. 
 
 Fig. 38. 
 
 The two Figs. 37 and 38 combine the double actions of throw- 
 ing the hand out, and then drawing it towards the body. The 
 idea is that of throwing away something that is distasteful. The 
 meaning of the double action is this : When putting our hand out 
 quickly we throw as it were our contempt at others, and in with- 
 
74 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 drawing it towards us, we avoid a contact that might sully it. If 
 we reverse the action of Fig. 38 and move the hand from the 
 body towards the person we address with abruptness, we obtain 
 
 Fig. 39. 
 
 equally an action suggestive of command mixed with contempt, 
 such as might be used by a superior towards a vassal — Fig. 39. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 75 
 
 THIRD STUDY. 
 
 Anger, as it becomes more violent and turns into a passion, 
 will assume a different expression, and from attitude Fig. 38 will 
 pass to that of Figs. 40 and 41. 
 
 Fig. 40. 
 
7 6 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 The fist is closed tightly, the arm stretched out — it seems that 
 the muscles of the body are rigid with the strength of our mental 
 emotions. This action is emblematic of power, courage, defiance, 
 or threat. 
 
 Fig. 41. 
 
 " Urge me no more — I shall forget myself ! 
 Have mind upon your health ; — tempt me no further ! ! 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 77 
 
 FOURTH STUDY. 
 
 If fear assumes the form of terror or despair, the action will 
 change from Fig. 36 into Figs. 42, 43, 44, and 45. 
 
 Fig. 42. 
 
 ' Avaunt, and quit my sight ! ' 
 
78 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 43. 
 
 ; Hence, horrible shadow ! unreal mockery, hence ! 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 79 
 
 Fig. 44. 
 
 ' Ah, whither shall I go ? and which way fly ? ' 
 
8o 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 45. 
 
 " My good Lord, that comfort comes too late, 
 For I am past all comfort here but prayers ! ' 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 81 
 
 FIFTH STUDY. 
 
 Fig. 46. 
 
 " This fellow, 
 Let me ne'er see again." 
 
 The expression of Fig. 46 is that of authority, command, 
 accusation. 
 
82 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 47. 
 
 " Take heed, my boy ; 
 I warn you, take good heed." 
 
 Fig. 47 is that of warning, reproach. This action of the first finger, 
 is one of the most expressive motions we have, and is indicative of 
 an infinite variety of meanings. A gentle movement of the hand, 
 while the arm is kept close to the body, means reproach — two or 
 three abrupt movements of the hand, and the arm more distant 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 83 
 
 from the body, mean scolding. One abrupt movement of the 
 hand, the arm stretched, and the first finger pointed towards a 
 person, means accusation ; the same movement, with the fore- 
 finger pointing slightly to the ground, is also emblematic of com- 
 mand, authority. The simple shaking of the first finger means 
 " beware." In comedy, the action of the first finger is often used 
 in a figurative sense. 
 
 Fig. 48. 
 
 Fig. 48 means " doubt ; " also the first finger bent, close beside 
 the mouth, indicates perplexity or incredulity. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 PRELIMINARY PRACTICES FOR BOTH ARMS AND 
 HANDS. 
 
 SYMMETRICAL movements in acting are admissible only in 
 pantomimic action or low comedy, and are therefore incom- 
 patible with elevated sentiments. In high comedy or tragedy 
 such movements would be out of place. 
 
 To express sentiments or passions, certain gradations must be 
 observed in order to give them the desired intensity. In music 
 we have the piano, crescendo, and forte, rendered by the combina- 
 tion of the different instruments ; in acting, we have the combina- 
 tion of the actions of the body, the expression of the face, and the 
 voice. In this chapter we will consider the expression of the arms 
 and hands. If we raise one hand, we give force to our words. 
 By raising both, we give them additional expression. In order to 
 obtain this crescendo, it is necessary to time these two actions, and 
 graduate them, as will be explained in the following practices. 
 The lowering of the arms corresponds to the diminuendo in music. 
 We see in Figs. 22, 23, 24, 25, the absurdity of symmetrical move- 
 ments, in which the hands are raised or extended at entirely equal 
 angles from the body, the movements being likewise simultaneous, 
 and keeping time with each other. 
 
The Actor's Art. 85 
 
 FIRST PRACTICE. 
 
 Let the pupil stand in the second position —facing the audience. 
 His first action will be to raise the right hand as high as the chest, 
 which must be done according to the rules already stated in the 
 first practice, Chapter VII. ; so soon as it will have ceased to rise, 
 the left hand will follow the same movement, and cease ascending 
 as soon as it has become level with the waist. By keeping one 
 hand higher than the other, the pupil avoids symmetry in the 
 position of the hands and arms, and by raising one after the other 
 he obtains the desired gradation in the actions, or crescendo. The 
 di7?iinuendo of this action is the lowering of the arms, which move- 
 ment takes place as soon as the sentiment diminishes from its 
 intensity. In doing so, the pupil will lower, first the left hand 
 and then the right, observing the same rules as above. The fact 
 that the right hand is raised first and lowered last, and also that it 
 is kept higher than the left, shows that it assumes the principal 
 expression in the action, and therefore interprets the leading 
 sentiment in a phrase. The importance of this observation will 
 be fully exhibited in Chapter XXIL, " Analysis of Mark Antony's 
 Oration." 
 
 SECOND PRACTICE. 
 
 The same practice will be repeated, giving the left hand the 
 principal action. 
 
 N.B.— In Chapters XXIL, XXIIL, and XXIV, we shall give 
 an analysis of the sentiments and passions with their different 
 actions. As it will comprise the combined action of both hands 
 and arms, we will limit the studies in this chapter to these two 
 practices. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PHYSIOGNOMY. 
 
 LEBRUN said in one of his lectures that " Expression is, 
 according to my opinion, a simple and natural reflection 
 of the objects we have to represent." It is necessary it should 
 exist between all the parts of a picture, which would be very 
 imperfect without this condition. It also shows the movements 
 of the soul and the effects of passion. 
 
 Lavater — from whom much of this chapter is derived, both as 
 to remarks and illustrations — asserts that the head is the most 
 noble and essential part of our bodily frame. It is the centre of 
 our intellectual faculties. A head well-proportioned to the body, 
 one that is neither too large nor yet too small, denotes a mind 
 better balanced than could be expected from a head out of pro- 
 portion. The forehead is the door of the soul ; the temple, the 
 door of prudence. 
 
 The physiognomy, like the actions, has its typical features in 
 every nation. The passions or sentiments are expressed very 
 differently by people belonging respectively to northern and 
 southern countries. 
 
 To understand the philosophy of human expression involves a 
 study with which artists cannot dispense. A thorough acquaint- 
 
 nr\cf* with thp nrivntp rhnrartpr of thp nprsnrmcrp to hp rpnrpspntprl 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 87 
 
 and of the habits of the different countries and nationalities, are 
 indispensable in order to obtain a perfect expression of physio- 
 gnomy. The different stages of our life from youth to old age, 
 as well as the nature of our occupations, all tend to leave a trace 
 on our features ; health, youth, beauty, joy, grief, misery, vanity, 
 pride, suffering, decrepitude, all have their expression, all leave their 
 marks. A quiet, serene life and a happy mind, develop a har- 
 monious expression of feature, which, even in old age, indicates 
 
 Fig. 1. — Tranquility — Calm. 
 
 Fig. 2.— Joy. 
 
 cheerfulness and contentment. The reverse may be said where 
 life has been spent amidst a storm of passions, or evil actions. The 
 impassioned face of youth gradually loses its harmony : the lines 
 in the face become harshly marked. The features betray anxiety, 
 deceit, vice, — in one word, all the evil propensities of the soul. 
 
 Buffon declared that when the soul is quiet all the features of 
 the face are in a state of perfect repose. Their harmonious com- 
 bination indicates one gentle union of the thoughts, and corre- 
 sponds to the internal calm. 
 
 When assuming an expression of a gentle sentiment, the lines 
 
 nf thp farp nrp rnisprl slifrhtlv. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 As the feeling increases in intensity, the features assume a 
 brighter expression by an ascending movement. 
 
 Fig. 3. — Esteem. 
 
 Fig. 4. — Veneration. 
 
 Fig. 5.— Admiration. 
 
 Fig. 6. — Astonishment. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 89 
 
 So soon as the feeling becomes violent, the face loses its 
 harmonious lines, and the features assume different directions. 
 For instance, hearty laughter will cause the eyes to shut partly, if 
 not altogether, whilst the eyebrows will be raised. The lines of 
 the face follow the direction of the mouth which opens at the 
 sides, assuming at the same time a cheerful expression by opening, 
 and thus exposing the teeth. 
 
 'I \<\ 
 
 Fig. 7. — Eagerness. 
 
 Fig. 8.— Hope. 
 
9° 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 When our feelings become those of sorrow or suffering, the 
 features are drawn downwards, always in proportion to the 
 intensity of our sensations. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 9i 
 
 So soon as the sensation becomes violent, the features are 
 drawn apart, upwards and dow r nwards, assuming opposite direc- 
 tions, and becoming distorted ; in fact they reflect, like a true 
 mirror, the' state of the soul. 
 
 The following figures all tend to show violent passions or 
 suffering : — 
 
 Fig. 13.— Crying. 
 
 Fig. 14. — Grief. 
 
9 2 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 18. — Anger mixed with Fear. 
 
 Fig. 19. 
 Acute Bodily and Mental Paln 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 93 
 
 ■z&m> 
 
 Fig. 20. 
 Compound Movement of Pain. 
 
 Fig. 21. 
 Violent Movement. 
 
 Fig. 22. 
 Other kind of Violent Movement. 
 
 Fig. 23. — Violent Movement. 
 Contraction of the Heart. 
 
94 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 24. — Extreme Bodily Pain. 
 
 Fig. 25. — Acute Pain. 
 
 Fig. 26. — Anger. 
 
 Fig. 27. — Other kind of Anger. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 95 
 
 Fig. 28. — Horror. 
 
 Fig. 29. — Fright. 
 
9 6 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 30. — Another kind of Fright. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 97 
 
 Fig. 31. — Fear. 
 
 Fig. 33. — Hatred. 
 
 Fig. 34.— Fright mixed with Ang 
 
gS The Actor's Art. 
 
 When the face assumes the expression of a violent passion, the 
 mouth is often opened. This movement may easily be explained 
 by the fact that the action of the heart is strongly affected, and 
 the breathing being interrupted by emotion, is therefore facilitated 
 by this action. We see by the above observations that when 
 sentiments assume a mild form the features of the face retain a 
 symmetrical expression, in an upward or downward direction. On 
 the contrary, if the emotions of the mind are violent, the features 
 become disordered and take all sorts of directions, viz., upwards, 
 downwards, and lateral. The former class of feelings are there- 
 fore expressed by similar, the latter by contrary motions. 
 
 The student will do well to analyse these different expressions, 
 which represent the various sentiments or passions of the soul. 
 Having done so, it would be advisable for him to imitate them 
 before a looking-glass. An actor will never become a great artist 
 unless he expresses by the actions of his physiognomy the passions 
 which are supposed to agitate his soul. If he remains impassible 
 when his features ought to reflect the joyful or tortured state of his 
 inward feelings, he will fail to influence or attract an enlightened 
 or intelligent public. We have stated that the features assume the 
 same direction in quiet sentiments, and opposite directions as 
 they grow in intensity. This latter action, however, is observable 
 in states of mind which are composed of two simultaneous con- 
 trary sentiments. For instance, the lover who is wrapped up in 
 the thoughts of the absent object of his affections is besieged by 
 conflicting sentiments of pleasure and pain. The physiognomy is 
 expressive of both in the following manner — the upper part of 
 the face is affected by the feeling of grief, whilst the lower part 
 reflects the sensation of love. The eyes are either shut, or languish- 
 ing, or even shedding tears. The eyebrows are raised at the corners 
 near the bridge of the nose, as though casting a shadow on it, 
 whilst a smile gives the mouth a gentle expression of happiness. A 
 touching melody or a sublime musical conception often causes a 
 concentrated sentiment of rapture, which assumes the above out- 
 ward expression. We may conclude from these observations, 
 that in sentiments expressed by contrary actions, the upper part 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 99 
 
 of the face assumes the expression of unfavourable whilst the 
 lower part assumes that of favourable sentiments. Not only does 
 the general appearance of the physiognomy show the general 
 dispositions of human beings, but each one of the features denotes 
 our peculiar propensities. A hooked nose, with a thick lip, 
 generally belong to the miser; a small restless eye that never 
 looks you in the' face is often characteristic of hypocrisy. It is 
 necessary that actors should become acquainted with all the pecu- 
 liarities of the face and understand their meaning. We will, 
 therefore, analyse them, and quote some of Lavater's observations 
 on physiognomy. 
 
 THE FOREHEAD. 
 
 The long part of the forehead, its form, height, curve and 
 proportions, mark the disposition and the measure of our intel- 
 lectual faculties, our way of thinking and feeling. The skin of the 
 forehead, its position, colour, tension, or looseness, betrays the 
 passions of the soul, the normal state of our mind. In one word, 
 the solid part of the forehead indicates the measure of our intel- 
 lectual faculties and the mobile part the use we make of them. 
 The solid part always remains in the same state, while the exterior 
 covering or skin gets wrinkled, in the course of time, or by the 
 effect of thought, care, sorrow, &c. 
 
 The lines vary according to the form of the bony structure. 
 On a flat forehead they are different from those belonging to an 
 arched forehead. Therefore, if we consider them in an abstract 
 manner, they enable us to judge of the form of the forehead ; and, 
 on the other hand, we may be able to determine according to its 
 form, the lines that will be produced. 
 
 Wrinkles may be perpendicular, horizontal, arched, or interlaced 
 and complicated. 
 
 The foreheads that are smooth produce simple and regular 
 lines. 
 
 A narrow forehead is indicative of an unruly mind. 
 
 A forehead sinking in the lower part and prominent in the 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 upper part, shows stupidity, cowardice, incapacity for great under- 
 takings. 
 
 A square forehead is indicative of wisdom and firmness (Fig. 
 35). 
 
 Fig. 35. 
 Great Memory — Firmness—Learning. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 An elevated and round forehead denotes an open, virtuous 
 man, susceptible of gratitude and of kind sentiments. 
 
 A badly-shaped forehead without wrinkles betrays a rough, 
 fighting disposition, wanting in intelligence. — See Figs. 36 to 41 
 for different shaped foreheads. 
 
 Fig. 36. — Sagacity. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 37.— Kindness. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 103 
 
 Fig. 38. — Perspicacity. 
 
T04 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 39. — Avarice. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 105 
 
 Fig. 40. — Shrewdness mixed with Hypocrisy. 
 
io6 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 41.— Dark Soul. 
 Slight Contraction of the Lips. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 107 
 
 THE EYES. 
 
 Buffon says — " It is chiefly in the eyes that are pictured the 
 images of our secret agitations, and there they can be recognised. 
 The eye belongs to the soul more than any organ — it seems to 
 touch it and participate in all its movements — it expresses its 
 most vivid passions, and its most disorderly emotions, as well as 
 
 Fig. 42. 
 Sir C. Wren. 
 
 the gentlest and most delicate sentiments. It expresses them in 
 all their force — in all their purity, the instant they are felt. It 
 renders them with vivid flashes and impresses us with the very 
 fire, actions, and images of the sentiments they reflect. The 
 eye receives and flashes forth at the same time the light of 
 
io8 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 thoughts and the warmth of sentiment. It is the sense of the 
 spirit, and the tongue of the sentient intelligence." 
 
 In the figures shown in Figs, i to 34, we see the expression 
 of the eyes varying from perfect repose to the utmost excess of 
 passion. 
 
 In the portrait of Sir C Wren (Fig. 42), we see a noble 
 expression — the right eye especially — betrays worlds of in- 
 telligence. Such an expression can belong only to a man gifted 
 with extraordinary talent. 
 
 Fig. 43. 
 
 Fig. 43 denotes great expression in the eyes. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 109 
 
 THE EYEBROWS. 
 
 The eyebrows are positive indicators of a man's character. 
 Eyebrows softly arched are among the charms of a modest 
 and simple young girl, (Fig. 44). 
 
 Fig. 44. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 When they form a straight and horizontal line, the eyebrows 
 denote a firm and vigorous mind, (Fig. 45). 
 
 Fig. 45. — Ch. Ch. Reisen. 
 When partly horizontal and partly arched (curved), they denote 
 firmness united with ingenuous kindness (Fig 46). 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Rough and ragged eyebrows 
 generally betray an uncontrolled 
 quickness of temper ; if, however, 
 the hair is fine, it is the sign of 
 a moderately fiery disposition 
 (Fig. 47). 
 
 Thick and com- 
 pact eyebrows, with 
 the hairs bent in a 
 parallel direction, as 
 though they were 
 brushed down in a 
 straight line, are 
 generally the sign of 
 a solid and mature 
 judgment, of wisdom, 
 of healthy and practi- 
 cal common-sense. — r 
 (Fig. 48.) 
 
 Fig. 47. — Seneca. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 When they are thin, it is a sign of weakness or of phlegmatic 
 indifference. 
 
 When angular and irregular, they denote a prolific mind 
 
 (Fig- 49)- 
 
 Fig. 49. — Quesnoy. 
 
 Drooping eyebrows give to the head an appearance of sadness 
 and melancholy. When joined together over the nose they give 
 the face a surly look, betraying to a certain degree an unsettled 
 mind ; although this formation is considered by some people as 
 a sign of beauty. Such eyebrows might also belong to amiable 
 dispositions. 
 
 The nearer they are to the eyes, the more firmness of mind 
 do they indicate. The energy diminishes as they gradually 
 ascend. 
 
 A great distance between the eyebrows is considered a sign 
 of an easy temperament, a calm and tranquil soul. 
 
The Actor's Art. 113 
 
 White eyebrows show a feeble temperament, dark brown are 
 emblematic of strength. 
 
 The movements of the eyebrows vary infinitely, and serve 
 chiefly to mark all the violent passions of the soul. 
 
 A man who frowns betrays an unsettled state of mind. 
 
 Lebrun says — " There are two sorts of movements in the eye- 
 brows, — the one, when they are raised in the middle, expresses 
 favourable sentiments j in this case the mouth is drawn up at the 
 sides. The other, when they are lowered in the middle, denotes 
 grief or bodily pain ; in this case the corners of the mouth are 
 drawn down." 
 
 In laughter, all the features move in the same direction — the 
 eyebrows being lowered towards the middle of the forehead cause 
 the nose, the mouth, the cheeks, to follow the same movement. 
 
 THE NOSE. 
 
 A handsome nose is rarely seen on a face devoid of harmoni- 
 ous forms, or on a deformed face. A person may be plain or 
 ugly and possess fine eyes ; but a regular nose necessarily involves 
 a harmonious analogy and proportion of the other features. We 
 see thousands of handsome eyes to one handsome nose ; which 
 feature, when it is really well formed, generally denotes an excel- 
 lent disposition and a distinguished mind. 
 
 A handsomely-formed nose must have the following qualities — 
 Its length must be equal to that of the forehead, and it must be 
 slightly curved at the bridge. Seen in the full face, its ridge must 
 be moderately broad, and parallel on both sides; its breadth 
 must be slightly more marked towards the middle. 
 
 The end of the nose must be neither hard nor fleshy : the 
 lower outline must be well defined correctly and with precision, 
 that is, neither too sharp nor yet too broad. The sides of the 
 nose must present a distinct form, and the nostrils assume an 
 agreeable curve as they shorten themselves in the upper part. 
 Seen in profile, the base of the nose must not exceed a third of its 
 length. 
 
 Yet many people of the greatest merit possess a badly-shaped 
 
ii4 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 nose. In this case it is necessary to distinguish the kind of merit 
 which characterises them. For instance, a nose arched in its 
 upper part near the forehead, denotes an imperative and arbitrary 
 disposition, as seen in the effigies of the Romans and the Nor- 
 mans. A nose with a straight well-defined ridge shows an ener- 
 getic mind, a character able to act, and to suffer silently. A nose 
 with a broad ridge denotes superiority : when very narrow near 
 the forehead, it shows extraordinary but fitful energy. A small 
 nostril is the sign of timidity. When the nostrils are well opened 
 and sensitive to the action of the breath, they denote refined 
 sentiments. See the following figures. 
 
 Perfection of Nose. 
 
 Resolution. 
 
 Brutality. 
 
 Firmness. 
 
 Order. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 ii5 
 
 Timidity. Energy. 
 
 THE CHEEKS. 
 
 Fleshy cheeks indicate in general a mild temperament and a 
 sensual appetite. When thin and shrunk, they are a sign of a rigid 
 temperament, one little addicted to the enjoyment of life. Grief 
 makes the cheeks hollow ; vulgarity and stupidity stamp them with 
 coarse lines. Slight and undulating lines are a sign of wisdom and 
 refinement. 
 
 A cheek gracefully formed denotes a sensitive and generous 
 heart, incapable of a mean action. 
 
 Beware of a man whose smile is not genuine. A graceful 
 smile is the true barometer of a kind heart and a noble mind. 
 
 THE CHIN. 
 
 A projecting chin is the sign of a positive mind, whilst a 
 retreating chin indicates weakness and deficiency. Thus, the 
 energy or weakness of a person is often exclusively indicated by 
 the chin. 
 
 Sharp indentations in the middle of the chin seem to indicate 
 a judicious man, possessed of calm understanding, and resolute ; 
 a sharp chin shows acuteness and craft. 
 
 A double chin, soft and fleshy, is generally a sign of sensuality 
 or indolence. 
 
n6 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Angular chins belong, as a rule, to discreet, firm, and well- 
 disposed persons. 
 
 Flat chins indicate a cold or dry temperament. 
 
 Small chins indicate timidity; and the round chins with a 
 dimple are typical of kindness. 
 
 THE MOUTH AND LIPS. 
 
 The mouth is the interpreter and representative of the mind, 
 of the heart : whether in repose or in its infinitely varied action, 
 it comprises a ivorld of characteristic features. It is eloquent in 
 its very silence. 
 
 Well-marked or chiselled and well-proportioned lips, which 
 present on either side the middle line equally well arched, are 
 incompatible with a low, false, unkind, or mean mind. 
 
 A mouth tightly closed, which at the junction of the lips forms 
 a straight line, indicates a cold, collected mind, application, a 
 tendency to order, punctuality, method. 
 
 If the mouth is drawn up at the two extremities, it shows a 
 certain amount of affectation, pretension, vanity, and malice, which 
 is the ordinary result of frivolity. 
 
 Fleshy lips are the emblems of sensuality, laziness ; round and 
 thick lips denote timidity and avarice. 
 
 Lips that close gracefully without tightness, and form regular 
 lines, indicate a judicious, firm, thoughtful mind. 
 
 A slightly overhanging upper lip is often a distinctive sign of 
 kindness. A projecting under lip belongs to a calm, sincere, easy 
 mind rather than a very tender heart. 
 
 A lower lip which becomes hollow in the middle, belongs to a 
 cheerful and fanciful person. This expression is perceptible after 
 a joke or witty remark. 
 
 A mouth well closed without affectation, and not sharp or 
 pointed, shows courage. 
 
 An opened mouth betrays sorrow, and sometimes vacancy of 
 mind. 
 
 A closed mouth shows patient suffering. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 117 
 
 Idiotcy. 
 
 Kindness. 
 
 Stupidity. 
 
 Quick Temper. 
 
 Irascibility. 
 
 nius mixed with 
 Kindness. 
 
 Good Sense. 
 
 Moderately Sensibl: 
 
n8 The Actor's Art. 
 
 THE TEETH. 
 
 Nothing is more characteristic, more striking than the teeth, if 
 we consider their shape, and the way in which they are set. Small 
 short teeth, in adults, show great strength, or great penetration. 
 In neither case are they very fine or white. Long teeth betray 
 weakness or timidity. White teeth regularly set and not always 
 discovered, and which when the mouth is opened show them- 
 selves without projecting, indicate in adults a gentle and polished 
 mind, a kind and brave heart. 
 
 When any of the front teeth are missing, it ages the face and 
 alters the expression of the mouth unfavourably. In making up 
 for some characters, some of the front teeth are occasionally 
 blackened, to give the appearance of age. 
 
 THE EARS. 
 
 When the ears are long or project outward from the head it is 
 advisable to hide them under the hair. A small and well-shaped 
 ear adds as much grace to the physiognomy, as an abnormally 
 large, and badly-shaped one, destroys its harmony and proportion. 
 
The Actor's Art. 119 
 
 THE HAIR. 
 
 The hair shows by many different signs the temperament of 
 human nature, its sensitiveness, energy, and its various mental 
 faculties. It corresponds to our physical constitution as plants 
 and fruits correspond to the soil that produces them. Long hair 
 denotes an effeminate temperament. No doubt it was in this 
 sense that St Paul said that it was discreditable for a man to 
 cultivate his hair — and in the same way the Puritans declaimed 
 against the flowing locks of the Cavaliers. Straight and long hair 
 does not show a manly disposition. Irregular short and straight 
 hair is considered as a type of vulgarity — also the hair that falls 
 in small sharp unpleasant-looking curls, especially when the tex- 
 ture is coarse and of a dark brown. This is typical of the lower 
 class. 
 
 Hair of a golden hue or light brown, almost fair, slightly 
 glossy, and graceful in its undulations, is considered very 
 handsome. 
 
 Black hair, growing close to the head, thick and rather coarse, 
 and naturally curly, shows little mental power, but, at the same 
 time, application and order. It has been said that straight-haired 
 men have ruled the world. 
 
 Black thin hair on a head partly bald, with an elevated and 
 well-arched forehead, is indicative of great judgment, although 
 with a want of inventive power, or of ready wit. On the contrary, 
 the same kind of hair when it is flat and smooth, shows a decided 
 weakness in the intellectual faculties. In warm countries the hair 
 is of deepest black — less so or even brown in temperate climates. 
 In cold countries the tints vary between yellow and brown. In 
 old age these different colours turn to grey and white. 
 
 Fair hair generally denotes a gentle disposition, also a confi- 
 dent, phlegmatic temperament. Red hair denotes a man as either 
 very kind or very cruel. Beware of a person who shows a strik- 
 ing contrast between the colour of the eyebrow and that of the 
 hair. The diversity existing between the coats of hair in animals 
 shows how expressive the diversity of hair must be in human 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 beings. If we compare the wool of the lamb with the fur of the 
 wolf; the coat of the hare with that of the hyena; the feathers of 
 the different birds, we cannot deny the fact that these differences 
 are characteristic and enable us to judge of the inclinations and 
 habits of each animal. It is most interesting, in reading the his- 
 tory of the habits of different nations, to see the importance that 
 was attached to the beauty, length, cut, and disposition of the 
 hair. Oriental nations cut or shave off the hair, their heads being 
 covered with large turbans. With the inhabitants of cold regions, 
 the hair is the principal covering for the head. Amongst the 
 ancient Gauls, and also among the Germanic nations, the length 
 of the hair was the distinctive sign of freedom and nobility. 
 Caesar caused the heads of the Gauls to be shaved after conquer- 
 ing them. Pharamond, chief of the Gauls, was surnamed " Rex 
 Crinitus." To shave the hair of a prince was to degrade him. 
 Under Louis XIV., it was the fashion to wear enormous wigs, 
 and the king was never seen, even by his most intimate associates, 
 without his peruke. These wigs gave an air of dignity to those 
 who wore them. His hairdresser, " Binette," stated that he would 
 willingly have shaved all the subjects to ornament the head of the 
 master. At the present day, lawyers and judges make use of 
 wigs, as it gives them a graver appearance than a bald head. See 
 Figs. 50, 51, 52, and 53 for different expressions of faces. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 50. — Energy Mingled with Sensuality. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 51. 
 
 Fig. 52. 
 
 Idiots. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 123 
 
 >^fe*_ 
 
 Fig. 53.— Wit and Taste. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ON PASSIONS AND FEELINGS. 
 Preliminary Observations. 
 
 ROSCIUS and Cicero challenged each other as to which of 
 them would render the same thought with the greatest 
 variety — the former in words, the latter in actions. This illus- 
 trates the fact that by a slight modification of actions and words, 
 we can obtain an infinite number of combinations to express the 
 same sentiment. 
 
 In the following chapters, we shall analyse the different 
 passions and feelings, and classify them according to their charac- 
 teristic features. We shall also indicate the attitudes and actions 
 suitable for each of them. We can of course only give general 
 rules; it will be for the student to combine and modify the 
 expressions according to his nature, and also to the requirements 
 of the part he is representing. 
 
 ANALYSIS OF FEELINGS AND CONDITIONS OF 
 
 MIND, EXPRESSED BY THE 
 
 GENERAL ATTITUDE OF THE BODY. 
 
 I. Dignity. — The sentiment of dignity may be suggested 
 either by consciousness of merit, power, rank, titles, education, 
 
The Actor's Art. 125 
 
 refinement of mind, or any similar cause, which prompts us to 
 look upon others, or consider matters, from a higher position or 
 point of view. 
 
 The attitude and action appropriate to this sentiment would 
 be these : the head and body must be erect, the walk rather 
 slow, the steps long and regular, the toes slightly turned outward, 
 the movement of the hands slow and grave. At times one of the 
 hands will be placed high on the breast, under the coat or waist- 
 coat, whilst the other hand will either rest on the back, or hang 
 motionless by the side of the body. 
 
 The face assumes a kind, although serious, expression. 
 
 Dignity in its manifestation suggests great regularity of fea- 
 tures. The higher our station in life is, the more dignity we 
 observe in all our actions, Fig. 28, page 63. 
 
 II. Pride. — This sentiment is prompted by causes based 
 more on natural gifts such as beauty, strength, &c, or circum- 
 stantial advantages such as rank or fortune, than on a conscious- 
 ness of real merit. We might almost say that this feeling is the 
 result of ignorance, or of an ill-balanced mind. The attitude of 
 the proud man, and also his gestures, resemble the signs that indi- 
 cate dignity, only with the addition of marks of affectation j such 
 as we see in Fig. 7, page 37. His features assume the expression 
 of contempt or self-complacency; his head is thrown back, he 
 addresses others with scorn, staring at them from head to foot as 
 though taking a survey of their inferiority. Thus, Glenalvon, in 
 the tragedy of "Douglas" reproaching young Norval for pride, says, 
 
 " If you presume 
 To bend on soldiers those disdainful eyes, 
 As if you took the measure of their minds, 
 And said in secret, ' You're no match for me,' 
 What will become of you?" 
 
 He is so wrapped up in his own importance that he scarcely 
 condescends to lend any attention to others, or favour them with 
 an answer. The action of the arms and hands is studied and 
 unnatural, the steps are long and measured, the toes extremely 
 turned out. Fig. 7, page 37, represents a man proud of his 
 
126 The Actor's Art. 
 
 personal appearance; Fig. n, page 41, the pride of rank. The 
 pride of physical power would correspond to the attitude of Fig. 
 12, page 41. 
 
 III. Vanity. — This sentiment resembles pride in a milder 
 form, and is suggested by the same causes. It is an attribute of 
 gentle or weak minds, who attach great importance to physical 
 appearance, and are more addicted to futile occupations than to 
 serious pursuits. The action expressing this sentiment may be 
 graceful, although studied, and calculated to make a certain 
 impression on others. Whistling, humming, smiling on the 
 slightest provocation, turning the head to the right and left, 
 swinging the body in walking, taking short and graceful steps, 
 throwing the arms forward so as to show the white cuffs, curling 
 the moustache, or passing the hand through the hair, are gestures 
 well suited to this sentiment ; Fig. 8, page 39, is a good illustra- 
 tion of the vain man. 
 
 IV. Defiance. — The expression of this feeling varies greatly. 
 It may assume the form of brutality or of dignity. A threat 
 addressed to a man of education will be met with a dignified 
 countenance, and a brave attitude and look will express that the 
 recipient sets his antagonist at defiance, daring him to carry it 
 out. 
 
 On the other hand, a man of a lower stamp will defy his 
 enemy with a very different action ; his face will express anger, 
 his attitude will display his combative power. Fig. 9, page 
 39, shows a man ready to fight. The legs are wide apart, 
 the feet are firmly set on the ground, the fists closed, the head 
 sunk deep between the shoulders, all these are signs typical of 
 this sentiment in such a man. 
 
 V. Indolence. — This sentiment betrays a passive and languid 
 state of mind, incapable of energetic purpose : too idle to make 
 the slightest effort. The movements of an indolent man indicate 
 his apathetic frame of mind. The hands are plunged in his 
 pockets, or fall listlessly to his sides ; the knees are loose and 
 ready to give way ; the feet drag on the ground. In one word, 
 the whole of his frame seems about to succumb from mere want 
 
The Actor's Art. [27 
 
 of purpose. The face assumes a stupefied or vapid, inane 
 expression, all intelligence having disappeared from the coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 VI. Indifference. — This sentiment springs from various 
 causes. The mind becomes callous after a succession of adverse 
 circumstances, or may be so naturally. In both cases it will reject 
 all emotions, taking an easy and careless view of passing events. 
 Indifference is often the result of selfishness. The indifferent man 
 is not easily affected by others' misfortunes or happiness. Either 
 his want of intelligence shuts up his senses to anything outside 
 the range of his conception, or his hardened soul is incapable of 
 further emotion ; or, perhaps again, his selfishness and egotism 
 will render him indifferent to all things unconnected with his own 
 interests. The shrugging of the shoulders and apathy of expres- 
 sion in the face would express this state of mind. 
 
 VII. Dreamy Thoughtfulness ; Absence of Mind. — 
 People who are in the habit of dreaming are, as it were, in contem- 
 plation of their own idle thoughts. The mind is absent, and seems 
 to ignore whatever is going on. The eyes assume a vacant 
 expression ; they are fixed, although they may not be attracted by 
 any particular object. Again, this sentiment may be caused by a 
 sense of admiration ; then the effects are very different. The 
 expression of the face denotes much more vivacity; the eyes, 
 although fixed, not only retain their intelligence but become far 
 more vivid, if the cause of contemplation is highly gratifying to 
 the mind. Veneration will also cause this sentiment. In this 
 case the face assumes a languid and sad expression. The arms 
 folded on the chest, or crossed on the back, a motionless atti- 
 tude, either standing or sitting, would correspond with this 
 sentiment. 
 
 VIII. Reflection or Thought. — This sentiment is the 
 result of an active mind, and although springing from the same 
 source, yet is rendered by actions and attitudes different in their 
 expression. A person who has a pursuit in life, and follows the 
 same idea, shows a regularity and steadiness of thought by atti- 
 tudes and actions of the same nature. The walk and movements 
 
i28 The Actor's Art. 
 
 are quiet and unassuming. The face is serious \ the eyes penetrat- 
 ing and thoughtful ; at the same time the features preserve their 
 harmony as the mind is not disturbed from its ordinary course. 
 On the contrary, if thoughts of an unusual kind assail the mind 
 and offer cause of disturbance, the outward action and the 
 physiognomy assume at once a very different expression. 
 
 If the flow of ideas is checked by some difficult question, the 
 movements become nervous. If sitting, the man passes his hand 
 across his forehead ; he leans back in his chair, as if seeking 
 inspiration in the air \ he folds his arms on his chest ; he rests his 
 elbows on the table, and his head is buried in his hands ; in fact, 
 there is a frequent change of attitude until a solution of the 
 problem has restored the balance of the mind. A restless move- 
 ment of the fingers, such as putting the forefinger on the lips, or 
 fidgetting with the leaves of a book or with a pen, would also 
 belong to the expression of this sentiment. 
 
 If walking, the steps will be irregular, the movements abrupt, 
 following the impulse of a mind which pursues an interrupted 
 course of ideas. Walking slowly, then quickly, stopping suddenly, 
 striking the forehead, folding the arms on the chest, would be the 
 appropriate actions of the body; whilst the eyebrows will be 
 lowered over the eyes, causing at the same time a slight frown and 
 betraying great concentration of thought. 
 
 Portia, \w Julius Ccesar, says to Brutus — 
 
 " Yesternight at supper 
 You suddenly arose and walked about, 
 Musing and sighing with your arms across." 
 
 IX. Prudence.— This sentiment is the result of wisdom and 
 reflection. A prudent man never acts on the impulse of the 
 moment, but weighs matters before coming to a determination. 
 He is careful of his words, so as not to give offence by indiscreet 
 observations. His gestures are moderate, his manner unassum- 
 ing, although dignified. The expression of his face is authorita- 
 tive and kind at the same time. One of the gestures appropriate 
 to this sentiment is the authoritative movement of the forefinger, 
 which, being put forward is the emblem of caution and warning. 
 
The Actor's Art. 129 
 
 No precipitation betrays itself, either in the walk or in the motions 
 of the arms, nor yet in the mode of speaking. 
 
 X. Indecision. — This sentiment is the consequence of caution 
 or prudence, or the result of want of intellectual power. 
 
 A vigorous mind is rarely undecided. This feeling is expressed 
 by gestures and looks very different from those that indicate 
 prudence. Timidity or uncertainty in the movements, such as an 
 irregular or interrupted walk, or the steps taking different direc- 
 tions, the hands moved in all sorts of ways, first scratching the 
 head, then the face, or rubbed together ; the head nodding first in 
 acquiescence, then shaking in negation. All these features belong 
 to minds incapable of making a determination or carrying out any 
 plan with a clear understanding. 
 
 XI. Timidity. — This sentiment, which is caused by what may 
 be called a want of nerve, is one of the characteristic features of 
 women in general and of effeminate minds ; and yet it is frequently 
 observed in men gifted with great intellectual power and capable 
 of energetic undertakings. In the former it is noticeable in the 
 attitude and manner in general. 
 
 The action of the arm and the hand is reserved — scarcely 
 perceptible. The walk is very short and quick. A timid person 
 is never free from a certain amount of fear and indicision — a 
 word, a look, will cause a blush. The speech is delivered in a 
 subdued tone, as though the very sound of the voice gave cause of 
 alarm. The eyes are kept down, for fear of meeting the gaze of 
 others. The face retains a quaint soft expression, incapable of 
 reflecting decided or deep feeling. 
 
 When affecting great minds, timidity may be considered as a 
 failing, caused as much by modesty as by want of nerve. The 
 consciousness of our deficiencies in certain matters invariably 
 causes timidity when we have to deal with these matters in the 
 presence of others. 
 
 XII. Audacity. — This sentiment, being the reverse of 
 timidity, will assume the very opposite outward expression. Inso- 
 lence may be coupled with defiance, accompanied by their exuber- 
 ance of actions, and violence in the attitude. 
 
130 The Actor's Art. 
 
 XIII. Courage. — This noble sentiment belongs to a man 
 gifted with an energetic, fearless disposition. Courage is often 
 accompanied by intellectual power, although it is not necessarily 
 so. The very instinct of self-preservation gives courage to animals. 
 Some men may be totally destitute of mental strength, and yet be 
 brave and courageous, whilst a military man, who by his capaci- 
 ties as a tactician, and his dauntless bravery has gained rank and 
 honours, will unite this sentiment to great mental qualifications. 
 True courage not only despises brutality but is associated with 
 generous sentiments ; yet these sentiments are due more to a 
 sense of honour than of tenderness, for the man capable of braving 
 danger is not so easily accessible to tender feelings. The ex- 
 pression of the physiognomy has a tendency to severity if not 
 harshness. The action of the body and the general attitude 
 are decided and full of vigour. The eyes express energy and 
 command. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PASSIONS AND FEELINGS— continued. 
 
 EAGERNESS, IN VARIOUS PHASES. 
 
 Introductory. 
 
 A POSITION of the body inclined forward is the very first 
 expression of this sentiment, which directs all our actions 
 towards the object of our desires. If one of our senses is affected 
 by eagerness more than the others, it becomes the centre of our 
 actions. If it is the sight, the eyes assume a greater expression 
 of vivacity, the head leans forward, the hand naturally shades 
 the brow so as to check the action of the light ; if the ear is 
 eager, the hand places itself behind it so as to concentrate the 
 sound, the body leaning forward in the direction which attracts 
 the attention, Fig. 31, page 66. If in the act of taking or 
 receiving, the hands show great readiness of action, the expression 
 of the fingers in either of these acts becomes very striking \ if the 
 desire is great, the face becomes flushed, the eyebrows are slightly 
 moved, the mouth opens gently, the whole physiognomy displays 
 a sense of uncontrollable longing, Fig. 7, Chap. XL, page 89. If 
 this sentiment becomes a passion, it assumes the different forms 
 which we shall find analysed in this chapter. 
 
132 The Actor's Art. 
 
 I. Curiosity. — This sentiment is caused by the extreme 
 eagerness of our mind to become acquainted with everything that 
 passes. Its motives may be idle or the reverse. Some people 
 have a natural desire to become acquainted with everybody's 
 business without any special motives ; others are ready at all 
 times to turn their knowledge to account. This sentiment, carried 
 to excess, becomes indiscretion. There is no special action to 
 express it, except a certain activity of mind which betrays itself in 
 the face and in the movements of the body. The former assumes 
 a look of eagerness and hope, such as we see represented in Figs. 
 7 and 8, Chap. XL, page 89. The action would be the same as 
 that which expresses those two sentiments. Or, if the cause of 
 this feeling appeals more to one sense than the other, the features 
 belonging to that sense become very pronounced in their expres- 
 sion, and the action is concentrated as already stated in the 
 earlier part of this chapter. 
 
 II. Indiscretion. — This feeling is prompted by a sense of 
 curiosity and assumes the same expression. An indiscreet person 
 will not only ask questions, but will even insist on knowing the 
 why and the wherefore of everything, though at the risk of causing 
 pain and annoyance. A want of reflection or an ingredient of 
 selfishness often causes this sentiment ; listening at the door, 
 looking through the keyhole, are actions typical of indiscreet and 
 prying curiosity. 
 
 III. Expectation. — This feeling assumes the expression of 
 hope, anxiety, uncertainty, grief, impatience, according to the 
 nature of the thing expected. The expectation of news, good or 
 bad, of the arrival of a beloved or a dreaded person, will cause a 
 series of gestures belonging to either of these sentiments. To 
 render it adequately, we must be thoroughly imbued with the 
 cause of this sentiment. If it is connected with auspicious events, 
 the action will be that expressive of favourable sentiments. If, on 
 the contrary, it is caused by unfavourable circumstances, the 
 expressions will assume such features as may be suggested by a 
 disordered state of the mind. In either case, eagerness is the 
 promoter of our action. In the players' scene, Hamlet suppresses 
 
The Actor's Art. 133 
 
 all outward show of gestures, although watching the king's coun- 
 tenance with the utmost eagerness, expecting every instant to see 
 him betray the terror of his guilty conscience. A slight nervous 
 action of the hands, and the terrible expression of his eyes, indi- 
 cate the intensity of his feelings. The expression of the face 
 corresponds to that of hatred or fear. Fig. 31, page 66, corre- 
 sponds to the attitude of a person who tries to hear the slightest 
 sound, such as the steps of a beloved one. 
 
 The head and body incline towards the direction where we 
 expect to hear the sound ; one of the hands is raised close to the 
 ear, whilst the other stretches out as if to repel or check any 
 strange noise, or to impose silence on any one who should venture 
 to speak. 
 
 IV. Gluttony. — The man whose sense of appetite is strongly 
 developed makes a god of his stomach. His thoughts are con- 
 centrated on the one object — the joy of eating. He lives to eat ! 
 His expression is, like his mind, essentially material. His 
 physiognomy lacks intelligence. His eyes are sunk, and gloat 
 over his food as he puffs out his fat cheeks. The sight of a well- 
 dressed dish will cause a smile of satisfaction. When sitting at a 
 dinner table, he rubs his hands in anticipation of the pleasure to 
 come. He scarcely takes notice of what is said to him. His 
 eyes watch the choicest morsels j his attention is concentrated on 
 his plate. A gourmand generally eats slowly, so as to relish every 
 mouthful. He fills his glass to the brim, and puts it to his lips 
 slowly, so as not to lose a drop. In drinking the generous wine 
 he shuts his eyes and after emptying the glass, he makes a slight 
 noise with his tongue as a sign of approbation. He invariably 
 puts the glass to his nose so as to enjoy the bouquet of the wine. 
 He passes his fork from the left to the right hand, after cutting his 
 meat, so as not to hurry over his food, and that he may enjoy it 
 all the longer. He generally takes pretty large pieces, so that his 
 palate may appreciate the full flavour of the viands. Rather than 
 lose any part of it, he delicately takes the bone between his 
 fingers, and cleans it of all its covering ; after which he sucks his 
 fingers previous to his wiping them on the napkin. The hands of 
 
134 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 the gourmand are generally white and fat, as they do but very 
 little work. The steps of the gourmand are generally short, like 
 those of fat people, and slow, as his energy betrays itself more by 
 the activity of his jaws than by that of any other part of his body. 
 
 V. Drunkenness. — If the sense of gluttony betrays a sensual 
 disposition, the passion for drink denotes a degraded mind. 
 This passion has its own exclusive expression, for it announces its 
 presence by unmistakable signs. To some it gives corpulence and 
 colour, others it poisons ; with the former it becomes a weakness, 
 in the latter it is an inveterate vice. The effect of drink on 
 people is so varied that its expressions are indeed endless. They 
 assume the forms of all the sentiments and passions conceivable. 
 The contrast in a man when sober and when drunk is very strik- 
 ing. Some become amazingly tender and sentimental under the 
 vinous influence, others quarrelsome or given to moralising, 
 whereas they have proved to be the very reverse when in a sober 
 state. 
 
 The inveterate drunkard retains a fair amount of control over 
 his countenance, and will walk almost steadily, whereas an occa- 
 sional drinker will lose all power over his limbs. 
 
 One of the finest scenes of drunkenness we ever witnessed was 
 at the Theatre Francais, in Paris, in " V Aventurtire" when Coquelin 
 (who performs the part of Don Annibal, brother to the aventuriere) 
 is seated with Fabrice at a breakfast table. Whilst his guest pours 
 the wine in his tumbler, he holds it with a firm grip until it is full 
 to the brim : then he approaches it carefully to his lips, and for 
 fear of spilling a single drop he advances his mouth towards the 
 cup, projects his lips until they have reached it, and as he empties 
 it he throws his head gradually back until the whole contents have 
 gone down his throat, the mouth clinging to the goblet, and giving 
 evident signs of activity all the time the beverage is being 
 absorbed. After several bumpers he becomes communicative, 
 betrays the secrets of his sister's former calling, wishes to embrace 
 his companion for whom he declares the most profound feeling of 
 affection, until he bursts into tears, overcome by his own emotions j 
 at last he falls back in his chair dead asleep. 
 
The Actor's Art. 135 
 
 The whole of this scene was perfectly natural j no coarseness, 
 no vulgarity of any sort. Indeed it was a masterpiece of acting. 
 
 VI. Avarice. — The intense eagerness for accumulating wealth 
 is the predominating and ruling passion of the miser. Such is its 
 intensity that to obtain his object he will resort to the most ille- 
 gitimate means. The expression of this passion might be ren- 
 dered by the following features. A small quick eye, sunk in 
 its orbit ; the lines of the face strongly marked : a hooked nose, a 
 thick lower lip ; an expression of anxiety or fear — a false smile. 
 The miser often stoops, being constantly at the desk or little 
 given to bodily exercise. His walk is noiseless, his steps are 
 short, his hands betray nervousness and anxiety — eager to receive, 
 slow to give. The successful issue of a transaction will cause a 
 cynical expression of satisfaction on his countenance. His sense 
 of economy keeps him in an abject state of penury — he punishes 
 his body to pamper his purse, and deprives himself of the ne- 
 cessaries of life. He always pleads poverty. He is essentially 
 selfish, and often cruel — most times cowardly, always plodding and 
 deceitful. Like ambition, this passion is never satisfied (Fig. 39, 
 Chap. XL, page 104). 
 
 VII. Selfishness. — Intense love of life causes the selfish man 
 to sacrifice everything to his desires. Intense love of money 
 causes the miser to sacrifice all for the gratification of his passion. 
 The former never denies himself anything : the latter, never 
 indulges in anything. The one sleeps soundly, the other is kept 
 awake by his constant fears. The selfish man loves himself 
 beyond everything and everybody ; the miser loves his money 
 better than himself. The one thinks of the present, the other of 
 the future. The first creates for himself endless wants, the second 
 endless perplexities. The contempt for others is the only thing 
 they possess in common. 
 
 This sentiment can only be expressed by an utter disregard of 
 anything that does not affect our interest. The misfortunes or 
 happiness of others do not concern the selfish man — his own 
 personality being his first consideration, he never wins others' 
 sympathy. In society, he monopolises the conversation ; pays 
 
136 The Actor's Art. 
 
 little or no attention to others. Never susceptible of a kind 
 impulsive emotion, his face reflects the indifference of his heart. 
 No softness, no kindness, in his features ; cynical in his observa- 
 tions ; never compassionate for others ; indifferent to the pain he 
 may cause to others by his indiscreet questions, if it gratifies his 
 morbid sense of curiosity. The actions expressive of this senti- 
 ment would be more calm than boisterous, as the selfish man does 
 not like to put himself out of the way. 
 
 VIII. Ingratitude — This degraded feeling is the result of 
 selfishness and often of vanity. 
 
 When success or fortune smiles upon us, we are apt to forget 
 those who by their kindness helped us through our misfortunes. 
 We stifle all kind sentiments towards our benefactors : either we 
 cannot bear the idea that we owe our position to them, and not to 
 our talent alone ; or the fear of having to repay past kindness by 
 favours or money makes us overlook the past. Ingratitude 
 assumes the same expressions as selfishness. 
 
 IX. Envv. — Envy is a passion which we carefully hide from 
 others, as it is a degrading disposition of our nature. Incapacity 
 is its direct cause. Our pride suffers in witnessing the superiority 
 of others. We become envious of those we vainly endeavour to 
 imitate. Their success, their eminent qualities, cause in us an 
 irrepressible sense of grief and disappointment. It is an intense 
 desire to possess what we see in others. The envious man is 
 incapable of hiding his feelings, his countenance betrays the 
 agony of his soul. If he hears of his rival's good fortune, or 
 hears him praised, he changes colour and turns pale : envy 
 rushes to his features, he tries to check the enthusiasm by throw- 
 ing out such insinuations as may prejudice him in others' estima- 
 tion. Envy works in the dark, and covers itself with the garment 
 of hypocrisy. We often bestow praises and flatteries on our 
 rivals, and assure them of our kindly feelings, whilst in our hearts 
 we loathe them. Eminent men are the victims of envy ; and if 
 calumny does not arrest their ascending star, we oppose to them 
 men of inferior capacity on whom we lavish unlimited praise. 
 The envious man has not a moment of rest. All his plotting 
 
The Actor's Art. 137 
 
 against others' success or happiness does not afford a single instant 
 of satisfaction. A false look and restless action would express 
 this passion. 
 
 X. Ambition. — This passion is caused by an intense desire to 
 obtain eminence. It is an incessant domineering eager feeling that 
 urges us on towards the object we may have in view. Emulation, 
 envy, are the promoters of ambition. The ambitious man loves 
 praise and admiration ; he is generally selfish, and capable of all 
 the passions that may serve his purpose — his desires are un- 
 limited — his activity never ceases ; rest and sleep rarely comfort 
 his anxious mind. Impatient and anxious at all times, his move- 
 ments are rapid and abrupt, his features restless, his physiognomy 
 betrays incessant preoccupation. Constant thought of the future 
 fills his soul with perplexity ; hope tortures him, whereas it 
 comforts other men. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ANALYSIS OF FAVOURABLE SENTIMENTS. 
 
 I. /^^ALMNESS. — Perfect symmetry in the features, such as 
 v./ we see in Fig. i, Chap. XL, page 87, reflects a quiet 
 state of the mind. Repose in the attitude and movements are 
 indicative of the harmony existing in the thoughts, and a passive 
 state of the soul. 
 
 II. Admiration. — Admiration is, after repose, the most tem- 
 perate sentiment of the soul. The features of the face, as we see in 
 Fig. 5, Chap. XL, page 88, are slightly raised, and in a symmetrical 
 manner. The eyes and eyebrows assume a more elevated posi- 
 tion whilst the mouth opens. The action of the latter can be 
 explained by the fact that as soon as our sentiments acquire 
 some degree of intensity, the action of the heart quickens, the 
 breathing becomes more rapid and necessitates a greater amount 
 of air, which is obtained by opening the mouth. 
 
 III. Astonishment — Surprise. Astonishment differs from 
 admiration inasmuch as its features are more characteristic ; the 
 mouth is more open, the eyes more fixed, the eyebrows more 
 elevated, and the breathing less free ; the respiration even stops 
 suddenly and the thoughts are arrested at the sight of some 
 
The Actor's Art. 139 
 
 striking object that presents itself before our sight, Fig. 6, Chap. 
 XL, page 88. A success contrary to our expectation, a happy 
 and unexpected event, causes an astonishment which betrays itself 
 by a smile. If this sentiment is the result of some extraordinary 
 fact, either absurd or otherwise, the expression of astonishment 
 will be accompanied by the following actions. We throw our 
 head and body slightly back, we raise our hands quickly and 
 symmetrically; this last action being the result of the rapid 
 passage from one sentiment to the other. We often see people 
 stopping short in the middle of their work at the sight of some 
 object which attracts their eyes. This expression becomes that of 
 a man who, on hearing some extraordinary intelligence, is filled 
 with astonishment. We remember seeing a blacksmith, whose 
 entire attention was so thoroughly arrested that he forgot to strike 
 the iron whilst it was hot. This sense of astonishment is but of 
 short duration, and turns almost immediately into either doubt, 
 disgust, fear, terror, &c. 
 
 IV. Joy. — When our imagination is filled with pleasant 
 thoughts, our countenance assumes an expression of serenity and 
 satisfaction, Fig. 2, Chap. XL, page 87. When great events 
 enhance this happy disposition, our features acquire a greater 
 degree of expression — that of joy. A frank and open appearance 
 is the unmistakable sign of this sentiment. The forehead is 
 serene, free from traces of care : the head gracefully elevated, the 
 eyes bright, the mouth smiling : the hands and arms kept away 
 from the body. The walk is lively : grace, suppleness, lightness 
 and harmony in the movements, and in all the limbs, are the 
 characteristic features of a happy mind. These movements are 
 subject to modifications, according to the cause that prompts 
 them. 
 
 The joy of the proud man who sees the happy issue of his 
 ambitious plans will cause a general expression of self-com- 
 placency ; his face will betray satisfaction, his movements will be 
 free and unconstrained. If great ideas occupy his mind his 
 countenance will no longer bear the expression of pure joy, but it 
 will assume a look of joy mixed with pride. 
 
140 The Actor's Art. 
 
 The lover whose soul nourishes rapturously beautiful and sweet 
 ideas betrays his sentiments by a spontaneous pure joy. 
 
 V. Rapturous Joy. — The sentiment of joy, as well as its 
 expression, is susceptible of great modification. The highest 
 degree of joy or rapture is only a strengthening of the above 
 features, which entirely lose their grace — if they do not disappear 
 altogether — the moment joy becomes noisy and exuberant, and 
 degenerates into such petulance as to cause contortions of the 
 face, and turn the free and graceful movements of the body into 
 the gesticulations of a clown. 
 
 This sentiment seems to electrify all our senses, which assume 
 extraordinary activity when under its influence. Banqueting, 
 singing, dancing, laughing, clapping of the hands, a desire to 
 communicate with those whom we wish to share our happiness, 
 kissing, embracing, shaking hands, protestations of friendship, 
 spontaneous movements of generosity, tears of joy, are all signs of 
 an exuberance of feeling in our soul. 
 
 Milton, in " l'Allegro," portrays the expression of the senti- 
 ment of joy : — 
 
 11 Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee 
 Jest and youthful jollity ; 
 Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, 
 Nods, and winks, and wreathed smiles, 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek 
 And love to live in dimple sleek : 
 Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 
 And Laughter holding both his sides ; 
 Come, and trip it as you go 
 On the light fantastic toe." 
 
 Rapture may be expressed by signs and tokens totally different 
 from those already described. 
 
 Quiet rapture may be indicated by the reclining attitude of 
 the body, the limbs drooping by their own weight, the languishing 
 expression of the face — the eyes shut, so that nothing should 
 disturb the mind from its contemplation, and the happy expres- 
 sion of the mouth which betrays a smile are the signs of a person 
 
The Actor's Art. 141 
 
 who concentrates the entire soul on some imaginary object, and 
 also of joy, such as we often see in gentle and sentimental 
 natures. 
 
 When this sentiment assumes this form we seek solitary 
 places, where the quaint scenery corresponds to the happy state 
 of our mind. 
 
 VI. Sensitiveness. — This sentiment is caused by a certain 
 weakness of the nervous system, and betrays itself by an expres- 
 sion of melancholy or grief — the sight of others' misfortunes, the 
 sound of music, the contemplation of a touching picture, affects 
 our sensibility and makes us shed tears, causing at the same time 
 a nervous and irregular course of action, which reflects the state 
 of our mind. 
 
 VII. Melancholy. — Collins well describes the expression of 
 this feeling : — 
 
 " With eyes upraised, as one inspired, 
 
 Pale Melancholy sat retired, 
 
 And from her wild sequestered seat, 
 
 In notes by distance made more sweet, 
 
 Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul. 
 ****** 
 
 Round a holy calm diffusing 
 Love of peace and lonely musing. " 
 
 VIII. Hope. — Man is the only living being susceptible of 
 hope ; happy when full of it, he weeps when he has lost it. None 
 but he conceives joy at the thought of the causes that might 
 realise the possession of a desired object. There exists no reality 
 in the sensation we feel ; it is always in the future we lay the 
 foundation of our happiness. 
 
 " Hope bade the lovely scenes at distance hail." — Collins. 
 
 Painters represent it as the smiling goddess, who shows herself 
 constantly before the eyes of the unfortunate, rich or poor; we all 
 conceive plans which we hope to realise. To hope is to be happy. 
 The ruined man hopes to retrieve his fortune. Hope is the most 
 favourable sentiment for the equilibrium and harmony of human 
 feelings ; the whole of the nervous system is put into action by it. 
 
142 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Hope is a compound passion. Fear accompanies it, as though 
 to check its impulses. Despondency generally succeeds to disap- 
 pointed hope. Fig. 8, Chap. XL, page 89, is a true expression of 
 this sentiment. The eyes betray great eagerness, whilst the eye- 
 brows, being slightly arched, express doubt or fear. The mouth 
 shows, by its smiling expression, the active part it takes in the 
 anticipated success of the future. Fig. 7, Chap. XL, page 89, 
 which is that of eagerness, expresses eagerness and sensuality. 
 Fig. 8, which is that of hope, expresses eagerness and fear. One 
 thinks of the present, the other of the future. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 I. T OVE ;— AFFECTION IN ITS VARIOUS PHASES. 
 
 J j — Edmund Burke, in his essays on the sublime and 
 
 beautiful has some valuable remarks on the outward expression of 
 the feeling of love. He says — " When we have before us such 
 objects as excite love and complacency, the body is affected, so 
 far as I could observe, much in the following manner : — The head 
 reclines something on one side ; the eyelids are more closed than 
 usual ; the eyes roll gently, with an inclination to the object ; the 
 mouth is a little opened, and the breath drawn slowly, with now and 
 then a low sigh. The whole body is composed, and the hands fall 
 idly to the sides. All this is accompanied with an inward sense 
 of melting and languor. These appearances are always propor- 
 tioned to the degree of beauty in the object and of sensibility in 
 the observer. And this gradation from the highest pitch of 
 beauty and sensibility, even to the lowest of mediocrity and indif- 
 ference, and their correspondent effects ought to be kept in view ; 
 else this description will seem exaggerated, which certainly is 
 not — 
 
 * Man sees in woman the companion of his life, who shares his 
 sorrows and happiness.' 
 
 In refined natures love is an enthusiastic contemplation of eternal 
 
i44 The Actor's Art. 
 
 beauty. It becomes a dream of perfection, and a pursuit of the 
 ideal which rallies heaven and earth. Love being the most acute 
 sentiment of our soul, is susceptible of all the violent passions 
 that move humanity." 
 
 II. Esteem. — Esteem is a temperate sentiment, prompted by 
 a sense of dignity and admiration. A man who acts uprightly 
 never loses himself in his own estimation. If we admire certain 
 qualities in others, we esteem the persons in whom we recognise 
 them. The expression of this sentiment, as we see in Fig. 3, 
 Chap. XL, reflects the state of the soul, scarcely disturbed by a 
 calm emotion, the eyes only assuming a slightly greater intensity 
 in the expression. This, like all moderate feelings, belongs to a 
 calm, reflective mind, and is expressed by actions of a similar 
 kind, such as a cordial putting forth of the hand, a general appear- 
 ance of welcome, &c. 
 
 III. Sympathy. — Sympathy is a spontaneous movement of 
 the soul, which is caused by the admiration we may have for 
 others. It is the first step towards friendship and love. It is also 
 an impulsive movement of a tender heart, and often takes the 
 form of compassion, pity. The expression of sympathy can only 
 be rendered by attitudes or actions suitable to either of the above 
 sentiments. 
 
 IV. Friendship. — This sentiment is the result of admiration, 
 esteem, and sympathy, and is susceptible of many gradations. 
 Considered in its abstract sense, it is a noble feeling rising to the 
 greatest devotion. We love a true friend, and for him we are 
 ready to make the greatest sacrifices. In him we place the most 
 implicit confidence. We admire his qualities, and overlook his 
 faults. The desire to communicate with a friend, the pleasure we 
 experience in his company, are expressed by our attitude, which 
 betrays a sense of infinite complacency and enjoyment. Embrac- 
 ing, kissing, shaking of hands, rapidity of expression in the dis- 
 course, are the features and actions suitable to this sentiment. 
 
 The expression of friendship assumes a more or less demon- 
 strative form according to our disposition. Reserved natures 
 rarely show their feelings, and are generally very sparing of demon- 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 i45 
 
 strations. Impulsive natures, on the contrary, have an uncontrol- 
 lable exuberance of expression. In this case the action often 
 assumes a compound form : 
 
 Fig. 49. 
 
 In Fig. 49 we see an attitude expressing joy, eagerness and doubt, 
 such as that of a person unexpectedly meeting a beloved friend : 
 the body thrown back expresses doubt, the face joy, and the hands 
 
146 The Actor's Art. 
 
 warmly extended show eagerness. The rapid succession of these 
 sentiments would correspond to the emotions we should feel at 
 seeing a friend we thought dead or lost to us. Great effect may 
 be derived on the stage from such a situation, which is highly 
 impressive. This feeling of doubt succeeded by joy is well 
 depicted by Campbell in the meeting of the Oneida Chief with his 
 friend in " Gertrude of Wyoming " : — 
 
 " Nor could the group a smile control, 
 The long and doubtful scrutiny to view ; 
 At length delight o'er all his features stole — 
 * It is — my own ! ' he cried, and clasped him to his soul." 
 
 If instead of rushing at once into the friend's arms, a well-timed 
 moment of suspense or doubt is observed, the feeling of the spec- 
 tator gradually works up to a climax, until it reaches its highest 
 degree of intensity, when the actor acceding to the impulse of 
 nature, throws himself on the bosom of his friend, and by the 
 sublimity of his actions electrifies the public. 
 
 V. Paternal Love. — Paternal love is not only the most noble 
 sentiment of a generous heart, but the sweetest pleasure for a 
 sensitive man. It consoles us for the irksomeness of advancing 
 age. A father lives again in his children. " And I go courting 
 in my boys," says the poet. 
 
 In the IV. Act of " King Lear," when the unhappy king sees 
 his daughter Cordelia, his emotion is so great that he scarcely 
 believes his senses, and says in his anguish : — 
 
 " Pray do not mock me : I am a very foolish, fond old man, fourscore and 
 upward, not an hour more or less : and, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in 
 my perfect mind. Do not laugh at me ! for as I am a man, I think this lady 
 to be my child, Cordelia." 
 
 Although weakened by age, suffering, and mental torture, although 
 his sight is dim, yet the heart of the most unfortunate of kings 
 and of fathers has recognised his child. How he presses her to 
 
The Actor's Art. 147 
 
 his bosom, kisses her, smooths her hair so as to remove all 
 obstacles that might conceal her from his sight ! His solicitude, 
 his caresses, his tears of joy, are the expressions of his entire soul. 
 Such sentiments are so natural that they seem simple and easy to 
 represent ; and yet it requires the sensitiveness and heart of a 
 great artist to render them in their true purity. 
 
 VII. Maternal Love. — Maternal love is the most tender 
 sentiment in living nature. It is the sweetest and most generous 
 movement which the natural instinct can possibly prompt. It is 
 the first inclination in animal economy. The savage woman 
 watches over and tends her child ; she carries it on her back. No 
 human being is destitute of this inclination. Animals themselves 
 carefully watch over their little ones. The sentiments of a mother 
 are all spontaneous, never reflective or calculating. 
 
 James Montgomery, the poet, has eloquently expressed the 
 nature of this feeling in his exquisite poem, entitled, " A Mother's 
 Love." 
 
 " To bring a helpless babe to light, 
 
 Then, while it lies forlorn, 
 To gaze upon that dearest sight, 
 
 And feel herself new born ; 
 In its existence lose her own, 
 And live and breathe in it alone ; 
 
 This is a mother's love." 
 
 VII. Veneration. — This sentiment is caused by the love and 
 admiration we have for a moral being whose age, experience, 
 superiority, impresses us with respect. It is a kind sentiment of 
 the heart, which is the very opposite of pride, not only in its very 
 nature, but also in the attitude and action it suggests. Both these 
 sentiments are expressed by the same metaphor. Haughtiness is 
 the result of pride — humility, that of veneration. The entire 
 frame in this latter sentiment assumes such an expression as we 
 see in Fig. 4, Chap. XL The muscles of the face cease to act 
 with their wonted vigour — the eyebrows, the cheeks, the mouth, 
 incline slightly downwards when this sentiment is inspired by 
 
148 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 respect, or the features assume an expression of tenderness, as in 
 Fig. 50, when it is inspired by love. In both instances, the face 
 has a kind of intense look, which gives it an appearance of sad- 
 ness and melancholy. 
 
 Fig. 50. 
 
 VIII. Filial Love. — This kind of affection is a feeling which 
 most needs the help of virtue to remain constant. It is partly 
 founded on gratitude, which is but in itself a fugitive and passing 
 sentiment, which requires all the strength of principle, if it is to 
 prove lasting. Filial piety is more an acquired virtue than an 
 uncontrollable impulse of nature. It exists but to a small degree 
 in animals, and is strongly developed in man by the kindness of 
 a father and mother. This sentiment is the result of love and 
 veneration, and is a noble feeling, leading to the greatest 
 devotion. 
 
 " My Father, shall the joyous throng 
 Swell high for me the bridal song ? 
 Shall the gay nuptial board be spread — 
 The festal garland bind my head — 
 
The Actor's Art. 149 
 
 And thou in grief, in peril roam, 
 And make the wilderness thy home ? 
 No ! I am here, with thee to share 
 All suffering mortal strength may bear ! 
 And oh ! whate'er thy foes decree 
 In life, in death, in chains, or free. 
 Well, well, I feel in thee secure — 
 Thy heart and hand alike are pure." 
 
 {A Tale of the Secret Tribunal— -Mrs Hemans.) 
 
 IX. Humility. — This sentiment is natural, and shows itself 
 when we find ourselves in the presence of those whose power 
 and superiority make us feel our weakness and inferiority. The 
 fear that they should discover our deficiencies causes an irrepres- 
 sible sense of shyness or diffidence. We feel that we are unworthy 
 of their society. We humble ourselves when we are conscious of 
 our weakness, or when we address our superiors on whom depends 
 our position in life. This sentiment is also prompted by our 
 religious feelings. It is finely expressed in the words of Portia to 
 Bassanio, who is to be her husband, when, in her humility, she 
 describes herself as 
 
 " An unlessoned girl, unskilled, unpracticed ; 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old, 
 But she may learn ; happier in this, 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
 Happiest of all is, that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king." 
 
 X. Devotion. — Veneration and humility are the promoters of 
 this sentiment. When we worship, we venerate the greatness of 
 the Creator and humble ourselves before Him. In doing so we 
 raise our eyes towards heaven, and join our hands, and bend our 
 knees as in prayer. The expression of this passion is rendered 
 by a combination of contrary actions. The hands are raised to 
 the breast, the eyes towards heaven, whilst the other features of 
 the face, as well as the limbs of the body, have a tendency down- 
 wards. The actions of the hand show the intense feeling of the 
 
150 The Actor's Art. 
 
 soul, whilst the eyes turn upwards in supplication, in hope of 
 forgiveness or succour. If this feeling becomes the predominant 
 passion of our soul, the expression of the face loses its vivacity 
 and becomes sad. The constant preoccupation with the same 
 idea, which is purely imaginative, and which neither the mind nor 
 the senses can possibly realise, causes a disturbance in the being 
 which nothing can remove. Carried to excess, devotion becomes 
 fanaticism, and assumes all the disorderly features of madness. 
 We see that the Egyptians, in their frenzy, throw themselves 
 under the hoofs of the horse that carries their priest; others 
 punish themselves by tearing their flesh, and showing all the 
 outward signs of insanity. 
 
 Although a devotional person may feel perfectly happy, yet the 
 expression of the attitude is that of dejection. The eyes become 
 dull, and reflect an inward and mystic preoccupation, an imagina- 
 tion that broods secretly over exalted ideas. 
 
 XI. Benevolence. — The expression of this sentiment must 
 assume the appearance of friendship in its more reserved form. 
 Kind sentiments towards our fellow-creatures, encouraging words, 
 accompanied by a gentle pat of the hand on the shoulders, or 
 on the head, if to a child, are the characteristic signs of 
 benevolence. 
 
 XII. Modesty. — This sentiment resembles humility or vene- 
 ration, inasmuch as the attitude and manners are unassuming • 
 but it springs from a different cause. A modest man is diffident 
 of his own powers, and ready at all times to acknowledge those of 
 others. For this reason it is the very opposite of presumption. 
 This sentiment is generally the graceful attribute of a kind nature 
 and of a great mind. Selfishness, or pride, would clash with 
 modesty, Fig. 51. 
 
 XIII. Pity. — This sentiment is prompted by a sense of sym- 
 pathy directed with more or less energy towards those who suffer. 
 It is a spontaneous movement of the soul. Reflection rarely 
 takes part in this kind of sentiment — when we give to a poor man 
 we do not calculate what use he will make of our gift. It is 
 expressed by tears, especially when we sympathise with moral 
 
The Actor ; s Art. 
 
 151 
 
 Fig. 51. 
 
 suffering. The idea of pity is finely expressed in Goldsmith's 
 " Deserted Village," among the attributes of the good country 
 clergyman : — 
 
 " Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, 
 And quite forgot their vices in their woe — 
 Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 
 His pity gave ere charity began." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ANALYSIS OF UNFAVOURABLE SENTIMENTS. 
 
 I. A VERSION. — Passions are among the most striking phe- 
 Jr\. nomena of our sensitive nature. Our activity is set in 
 motion by our sensitiveness and intelligence, and obeys either a 
 mechanical impression, or an instinctive appetite, arising out of 
 our physical cravings, or an intellectual direction, guided by reason 
 and ideas. All unsatisfied desires cause in us a painful sentiment 
 or suffering. On the contrary, when we satisfy our cravings or 
 desires, we derive a sense of pleasure and contentment. Simul- 
 taneously with the painful sentiment caused in us by our unsatis- 
 fied wants is produced a tendency towards the objects which we 
 wish to obtain ; and the same reason that makes us pursue with 
 avidity everything that would gratify and give pleasure, makes us 
 fly with the same eagerness from anything that may cause pain or 
 suffering. 
 
 This latter sentiment is called Aversion. 
 
 When eagerness is increased by long expectation, or crossed 
 by obstacles, it acquires a certain intensity and becomes passion. 
 Passion, therefore, is craving, or aversion carried to its highest 
 degree of force. These two passions, which are the moving power 
 of our sensitiveness, the double movement which causes us to run 
 
The Actor's Art. 153 
 
 after pleasure, or fly from suffering, correspond to the two 
 phenomena, called by physiologists movement of expansion and 
 movement of contraction, and by analogy give rise to the sym- 
 pathetic, or sociable passions, and the passions that can be called, 
 on the other hand selfish, or anti-sociable. 
 
 This passion assumes the form of repugnance — contempt, 
 hatred, fear, &c, and is rendered by the features belonging to 
 any one of them. Its cause may be moral or physical, and is 
 suggested by the painful impression that may either affect our 
 senses or our mind. 
 
 II. Repugnance. — This sentiment is caused by the painful 
 impression made by some object on our senses. If our eyes are 
 affected, we naturally shut them, or hide them with our hand, or 
 turn our head away. The features of our physiognomy become 
 more or less distorted. Repugnance at outward objects we 
 express by turning up our nose, the mouth following the same 
 direction, thus causing the eyebrows to lower themselves. 
 
 III. Deception. — A feeling of disappointment is caused by 
 the deception we meet with in life. Disappointments of the heart 
 through deception are the most cruel. We enter our career full 
 of hope, of illusions. We believe in others, because we are loyal 
 and generous, but soon we are taught the error of our impressions. 
 From being deceived we become deceivers ; deceptions throw 
 bitterness and disgust on our existence, and although our reason 
 struggles against the sorrow they cause, yet time never entirely 
 repairs their everlasting havoc. We depart from the path of 
 virtue ; and from being children of nature, we become men of the 
 world. The expressions and actions belonging to this sentiment 
 would be the same as those of sorrow. A disappointed man has 
 a careworn appearance. Smiles and happiness have forsaken his 
 countenance. We naturally turn away from a person who deceives 
 our expectations, or refuses a favour, and our disappointment 
 turns either to grief, anger, or contempt. 
 
 IV. Contempt. — This sentiment, in its general acceptation, is 
 the sentence rendered by public conscience, against the man who 
 has forfeited public respect. It is a just punishment upon him 
 
154 The Actor's Art. 
 
 whose actions are no longer worthy of esteem and favourable 
 regard. This sentiment, shows by its very signification that it 
 ought not to be indulged indiscriminately, — and yet we see people 
 in society assume airs of contempt, on the strength of their rank, 
 fortune, birth, or other adventitious advantages. It is the senti- 
 ment of contempt that causes hatred in those against whom it is 
 directed. Pride, vanity, selfishness, are therefore the promoters 
 of this passion, which assumes their different expression and atti- 
 tudes. If this passion is provoked by an insult received from a 
 person whom we consider to be our inferior, it will be expressed 
 by the dignity of our attitude — a severe look directed up and 
 down towards the person, a sneering smile on the face, a slight 
 shrugging of the shoulders, are signs denoting our superiority 
 over those who have excited our contempt. Although this passion 
 and pride are expressed by metaphoric actions, yet they differ 
 entirely in their meaning. Pride is the result of the excellent 
 opinion we have of ourselves ; contempt, of the poor opinion we 
 have of others. There are many actions and expressions to 
 render this passion. The body turned sideways, a careless glance 
 over the shoulder, or throwing a proud and hasty look, as though 
 the object or persons were unworthy of closer examination. We 
 cast away from us objects belonging to those we despise. Othello 
 throws money at Emilia's feet when he says — " There's money for 
 your pains." 
 
 Neglecting those who are present, or showing them indiffer- 
 ence, such as pretending to forget their presence by paying 
 attention to others — whistling or humming whilst they are asking 
 pressing questions — laughing or sneering at their distress, or keep- 
 ing people waiting in the ante-room, are all typical expressions of 
 this feeling. 
 
 V. Sarcasm. — This form of satire springs from an unkind 
 disposition in our nature which prompts us to take advantage of 
 our natural gifts to turn others into ridicule, sparing neither their 
 natural defects, their afflictions or misfortunes, nor their feelings of 
 humiliation or injury. It is also the weapon of the weak against 
 the strong. A man gifted with a noble nature or great physical 
 
The Actor's Art. 155 
 
 strength is rarely sarcastic. The indulgence of this sentiment is 
 often the result of the confidence we feel in our natural wit, and 
 therefore is not devoid of vanity or pride. In turning others into 
 ridicule, not only do we derive a certain satisfaction at causing a 
 laugh, which is invariably provoked at their expense, but we 
 gratify our selfish pride and vanity by showing the contrast between 
 their deficiencies and our own capacities. Sarcasm is the vindic- 
 tive proceeding of a man who by natural incapacity, or by his 
 humble position, cannot cope with others. Envy and presump- 
 tion are at the bottom of this uncharitable propensity. To throw 
 ridicule on others is to boast of our own excellence. A sneering 
 smile, great activity of movement in the eyebrows, as well as a 
 malicious expression in the eyes, are the principal outward signs 
 of sarcasm. 
 
 VI. Hypocrisy. — This passion hides itself under the cloak of 
 kind sentiments. Cowardice, villainy are its main springs. It is 
 a prying propensity of the soul, a plodding perseverance that 
 works in the dark to undo others. Hypocrisy has been aptly 
 called the homage that vice renders to virtue. Beware of the 
 false man who greets you with a smile or assures you of his kind 
 feelings, for if you make a confidant of him he will turn his 
 knowledge to his own benefit at the cost of your interest and good 
 fame. Iago is the true type of the hypocritical false man. 
 Slander, false and calumnious insinuations are his hidden weapons. 
 Envy, selfishness have a great part in this passion. Although 
 the hypocrite assumes a soft persuasive tone of voice and has a 
 smile on his lips, yet his attitude does not inspire confidence ; 
 for notwithstanding his art at concealing his feelings, the state of 
 his soul is reflected in his features, which assume a restless and 
 deceitful expression. The face of the hypocrite is often pale : he 
 never looks others in the face, he seems to be afraid of their search- 
 ing glance ; his manners are calculated and insinuating ; he rarely 
 makes an impetuous movement, — his walk is silent, almost mys- 
 terious ; his action uncertain, his attitude humble, so as never to 
 raise suspicion. Friendly and sympathising in appearance, false 
 and treacherous in reality. Hypocrisy frequently hides itself 
 
156 The Actor's Art. 
 
 under the cloak of religion, and although indulgent towards the 
 greatest sinners, even the most charitable man is averse to hypo- 
 crites. The author of the Henriade has well said : — 
 
 " La tendre hypocrisie a l'air plein de douceur, 
 
 Le ciel est dans ses yeux, l'enfer est dans son cceur." 
 
 VII. Jealousy and Envy. — Jealousy is a passion that causes a 
 painful and uncertain struggle between anger and overwhelming 
 suffering ; doubt, suspicion, revenge, despair, alternate in the soul 
 of the jealous man. Cupidity or ambition may be the cause of 
 this sentiment, which in this case assumes the form of selfishness 
 and envy. For instance, the success of others who follow the 
 same pursuit as ours, causes in us a feeling of grief and annoyance 
 which we cannot repress. If they fail, we rejoice at their misfor- 
 tune, although it may be of no benefit to us. When our soul is 
 tortured by this passion, our features lose their harmonious and 
 kind expression, assuming that of hatred and craft. If love is the 
 main spring of this passion, its features assume a striking variety 
 of expression. Some define jealousy as being a restless state of 
 the soul, which causes in us an eager desire to possess the glory, 
 happiness, and talent of others. Some attribute this definition to 
 envy. This difference, however, may be established between envy 
 and jealousy : we envy what others possess, we are jealous of 
 what we possess. If we accept this distinction as being the correct 
 one, we may say that jealousy has, morally speaking, no other 
 special acceptation, except inasmuch as it serves to designate the 
 morbid affection of the heart, the principal cause of which is the 
 suffering of unhappy love. 
 
 Our imagination creates a thousand causes for apprehension ; 
 we become uneasy, restless, irritable ; when in the presence of our 
 love we lose all control over our feelings ; we give offence when we 
 ought to show kindness and give comfort ; we quarrel, we become 
 passionate, we turn pale, our heart beats violently, our features 
 become distorted, our breathing is heavy — and yet amidst this 
 storm of passions, we are ready to cry, to beg, to implore forgive- 
 ness, to repent the injustice of our suspicions, doubts, and accusa 
 
The Actor's Art. 157 
 
 tions. In the character of Faulkland, in " The Rivals" we have a 
 good delineation of jealousy. This fierce and disorderly passion 
 often leads to the most deplorable extremes. If jealousy does not 
 take the violent form which we see in Othello, even in its milder 
 expression it is selfish, unreasonable, exacting — a harassing feel- 
 ing. Othello, blinded by his frenzy, murders the loving and 
 virtuous Desdemona, who cannot restore the peace of his mind 
 by her true and touching protestations of love and innocence. 
 Faulkland tortures the heart of his gentle mistress by his incessant 
 doubts and suspicions. Jealousy is a disorderly passion, suscep- 
 tible of an infinite variety of expression. 
 
 Sheridan describes jealous love by the following lines in his 
 opera of " The Duenna " ; — 
 
 " Though cause for suspicion appears, 
 
 Yet proofs of her love, too, are strong ; 
 I'm a wretch if I'm right in my fears, 
 
 And unworthy of bliss if I'm wrong. 
 What heart-breaking torments from jealousy flow, 
 Ah ! none but the jealous — the jealous can know ! 
 
 When blest with the smiles of my fair, 
 
 I know not how much I adore ; 
 Those smiles if another but share, 
 
 And I wonder I prized them no more ! 
 Then whence can I hope a relief from my woe, 
 When the farther she seems, still the fonder I grow?" 
 
 We may conclude that the disorderly passion shows its grada- 
 tions from mere teasing to murder — some it renders criminals, 
 others odious, others simply ridiculous. 
 
 VIII. Hatred and the Kindred Passions. — Hatred is a 
 passion that implies the idea of hostility towards others. J. J. 
 Rousseau describes it as a manifest intention to do injury. It is 
 fiery, stubborn, blind, unjust. It tortures the heart, and is spite- 
 ful against others, whose very virtues it blackens. It is generally 
 more open and outspoken than rancour. Hatred is caused by 
 certain proceedings that hurt us in our affections, in the most 
 sensitive parts of our souls. Animosity springs from more remote 
 
158 The Actor's Art. 
 
 causes : such as may exist between two persons violently opposed 
 in their political opinions. We may say that Antipathy is a want 
 of harmony between ourselves and a person or a thing, who is, as 
 it were, of a different nature to ourselves, and is caused by 
 incompatibility of humour. 
 
 Aversion differs from hatred by its greater violence, and more 
 resembles horror. 
 
 Disgust is more passive, being akin to ennui. 
 
 Repugnance is more active, and springs more from rebellion. 
 
 Figs. 35, 37, and 38, pages 71 and 73, are expressive of this 
 passion, and reflect by the irregularity of the lines, and the expres- 
 sion of the eyes and mouth the disorderly state of the soul. 
 
 This passion belongs to an essentially vigorous mind ; a timid 
 or apathetic nature is rarely troubled with such violent sentiments ; 
 the actions and attitudes would therefore follow its gradations, 
 which assume the forms belonging to the passions illustrated in 
 the plates on physiognomy. 
 
 IX. Vengeance. — The desire for vengeance is a terrible 
 passion that knows no bounds. It is a fire that consumes the 
 soul, and is not easily extinguished in the heart of man. If it 
 cannot give vent to its rage on the desired person, it falls on 
 persons, or on things that may have an interest in or belong to 
 him. If it cannot attack these objects, it seizes the first person or 
 thing that happens to be in its way, and quite innocent objects, 
 beaten, trampled, smashed, torn, experience all the fury of this 
 frantic passion. If our vengeance dares not, or cannot be satisfied 
 in this way, it uses violence against itself. We bite our lips, our 
 flesh — we tear our hair, and show every sign of rage and despera- 
 tion. When in the fifth act, the unfortunate messenger tells 
 Macbeth, " Methought the wood began to move ! " Macbeth seizes 
 him by the throat and roars out " Liar and slave ! " thus giving 
 way to his passion for revenge — he vents his fury on an innocent 
 man, unable as he is to refrain from such an act of violence. 
 There are other symptoms belonging to this fierce passion, very 
 different in their aspect, although not less cruel in their effect. A 
 cowardly man, who indulges in the lust of revenge, gives way to its 
 
The Actor's Art. 159 
 
 cravings in an indirect manner. Instead of anger, rage, despair, 
 his attitudes are calm ; he hides his dark purposes under the false 
 appearance of a bitter smile. His expression is cynical, his looks 
 are false, his manner soft, unctuous, his step is noiseless. He 
 resorts to calumny and false insinuations. He is plodding, per- 
 severing, Jesuitical, hypocritical. He is too cowardly to take his 
 own revenge himself, but takes advantage of others' weaknesses to 
 excite in them his own sentiments. Iago is the true impersona- 
 tion of this detestable feeling. His jealousy leads him to his 
 revenge, which he accomplishes without noise ; and his hypocrisy 
 is such that he is called " honest Iago" by his very victims. This 
 passion can only be rendered by expressions belonging to contempt, 
 rage, hatred. 
 
 X. Anger, Rage, &c. — This passion is rendered by the same v 
 expressions as vengeance, or by such attitudes as we see in Figs. 40 
 and 41, pages 75 and 76, or in Chap. XI. An angry man threatens 
 to punish or to strike. His features assume a severe, if not a 
 hard expression. Want of due regard from others, or contempt on 
 their part, especially from those we love, will cause this disorder in 
 NQur soul. Anger, raised to its highest pitch, assumes a more 
 violent form, and becomes rage. The first symptoms, previous to 
 an outburst of passion, betray themselves by the pallor of our 
 faces and the contraction of our features. We frown j our eyes 
 assume a fierce expression, we bite our lips; our movements 
 become agitated and abrupt. If we speak, our lips quiver ; we 
 stutter forth our words, we breathe with difficulty, our hands 
 become restless ; the whole of our nervous system seems shaken 
 by the force of our passion. In the next stage of this passion all 
 the moral and physical faculties given us by nature come out, 
 and become, as it were, intensified. All the muscles of the body 
 acquire a convulsive power. The eyes become fiery, and roll in 
 their orbits. The hands contract violently, the mouth foams, the 
 teeth grind fiercely. The whole body, equally with the soul, is 
 in convulsions. The veins of the neck and temples swell ; the 
 blood rushes to the face ; the movements are violent. The stride 
 is long, heavy, and irregular. We stamp the ground with our 
 
160 The Actor's Art. 
 
 feet, we tear our hair, we gesticulate furiously, we walk to and 
 fro with frantic impetuosity, we cry, we shout, we laugh hysteri- 
 cally; we smash everything we get in our hanoV— in short, an 
 enraged person offers the dismal spectacle of a man who has lost 
 control over himself. 
 
 XL Despair. — Taken in its literal meaning, this word 
 expresses the utter loss of hope : according to the usual accep- 
 tation, it means intense grief. In the first case, despair is a 
 permanent, and an almost incurable state. In the second case it 
 is a state of passing crisis — the very violence of which guarantees 
 its short duration. This passion assumes different attitudes and 
 expressions. When it has become the normal state of our 
 nature, it causes a moral obduracy, a strong condition of insensi- 
 bility which renders us indifferent to all that passes around. A 
 pallid face, a haggard, vacant look, sadness stamped on our 
 features — tears, sighs, desponding attitudes, such as drooping of 
 the head and wringing of the hands, are the expressive features of 
 this sentiment : the outward signs of a soul tortured and haunted 
 by the intense grief of despair — such as a mother would feel 
 after the loss of a beloved child. If it is the cause of a passing 
 crisis, its expression assumes a violent form, and can only be 
 rendered by attitudes and actions suggestive of great passions. 
 The violent despair of a mother over the corpse of her child is one 
 that betrays the intensity of grief by an outburst of tears, she 
 throws herself into imploring attitudes, wringing her hands with 
 force. The remorse of a lover, who gives way to his repentance, 
 is shown by violent gestures. Thus, Othello, in the paroxysm of 
 his grief, commits suicide to liberate himself from the agony of 
 his soul. All these outward signs are similar to the expression of 
 rage and anger, although prompted by very different causes. 
 See Chap. XL, also Fig. 45, page 80. 
 
 XII. Fear, Terror. — This sentiment is the result of a 
 shock received by our nervous system, caused by the conscious- 
 ness of danger. It affects our mental faculties to such a degree 
 that we lose all control over ourselves ; our countenance, our 
 actions and attitudes, all combine in reflecting the disordered 
 
The Actor's Art. 161 
 
 state of our mind. The lines of our faces become distorted, 
 the look haggard and fearful, the eyebrows strongly arched ; we 
 tremble from head to foot, our breathing becomes spasmodic, 
 our hearts beat rapidly. If we have enough strength left, we run 
 in frantic terror j we shout ; we scream — such are the signs of 
 this disorderly sentiment. 
 
 Considered under their different aspects, fear and terror are 
 expressed by a variety of actions, some of which it is important 
 to enumerate. The fear of ill-treatment causes a series of 
 expressions such as these. We protest, supplicate, promise. We 
 tremble, our hands try to protect the body from apprehended 
 blows, we fall on our knees, we cry ; we shout. In one word, 
 the soul discharges its burden by demonstrative action. We 
 crouch and cover our ears and faces with our hands if we fear the 
 report of thunder. We cover our eyes to avoid the sight of 
 lightning. Cain, flying from his victim, and fearing the voice of 
 God, instinctively protects his body with his arms (Fig. 44, 
 page 79), and looks up in terror. The sight of a serpent would 
 cause us to look back in the midst of our flight. Rarely do we 
 fly from an object, real or imaginary, without turning back to see 
 if it follows us. Danger acts on our weakened nerves with a 
 paralysing effect. It fascinates us ; we become powerless. 
 
 If this sentiment is caused by the disturbed state of our 
 conscience, our imagination becomes the prey of horrible fancies, 
 which throw disorder and terror into our inmost feelings. 
 
 Macbeth, in Scene IV., Act III., being invited by the lords 
 of his court to occupy the vacant place at the banquet table, 
 says : " The table's full ! " Lennox answers : " Here's a place 
 reserved, sir." Macb. : " Where ? " Lennox : " There, my good 
 lord. What is't that moves your highness ? " Macb. : " Which 
 of you has done this ? " — Macbeth has just perceived the ghost 
 of Banquo sitting in the vacant chair. At the sight of this 
 unhappy victim he becomes livid with terror; his eyes are 
 starting out of their orbits ; his breath stops short ; his features 
 become distorted. He raises his trembling hands towards 
 Banquo's spectre, the fingers stretched forth in agony. The 
 
 L 
 
1 62 The Actor's Art. 
 
 sight is so terrible that the hands withdraw instinctively and cover 
 the face of the man, who can no longer stand against the terror it 
 inspires. He then staggers back and falls on one knee, one 
 hand seizing the first object it meets that offers a support to his 
 body, whilst the other hand stretches again towards the vision, 
 as though to keep it off. In this attitude he says, with a voice 
 stifled with fear : 
 
 " Thou canst not say I did it ! " 
 When the ghost reappears, Macbeth says (Fig. 42, page 77) : 
 
 " Avaunt, and quit my sight ! 
 Let the earth hide thee. 
 
 Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; 
 Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
 Which thou dost glare with." 
 
 Macbeth says to his wife, who, after rebuking him, asks him 
 indignantly : " Are you a man ? " " Ay, and a bold one, that 
 dare to look on that which might appal the devil." We may 
 imagine how strong must the effects of terror be, if a man 
 possessing such a courage as Macbeth succumbs under it. To 
 render such a scene with effect, the actor must be gifted with a 
 vigorous temperament. Although he may have full control over 
 himself in ordinary life, yet his nature must be sensitive and alive 
 to strong passions ; a placid and indifferent mind will never 
 grasp the powerful sentiments required to act the part of Macbeth. 
 An actor destitute of these qualifications must resort to artificial 
 means ; his actions and diction will be overstrained, and impress 
 the public with a painful sense of his useless efforts. 
 
 XIII. Repentance. — This sentiment is the result of sorrow 
 for wrong-doing. A well balanced mind feels grieved at having 
 said some hasty word or done some action which may have 
 given offence or caused prejudice. The expression of this 
 sentiment would be the same as in sorrow. The attitude of 
 repentance is that of humility. We humble ourselves before 
 those we have offended. Tears stream down our cheeks, without 
 our being able to repress them ; and we do not recover our 
 sense of comfort and satisfaction until we have obtained forgive- 
 
The Actor's Art. 163 
 
 ness. Signs of fear are also perceptible in this sentiment, as we 
 not only feel always reluctant to ask others for their pardon, but 
 we fear that they may resent our offence and treat us with 
 severity. The expression of shame is also one of the features of 
 this sentiment. 
 
 XIV. Remorse. — This passion is the result of a terror- 
 stricken conscience — it is a darker kind of repentance. The mur- 
 derer is haunted by the visage of his victim. He sees blood 
 wherever he goes ; his guilt terrifies him. A look from others 
 is an accusation ; an unexpected noise startles him. His 
 conscience scourges him day and night. The money he may 
 have gained by his crime burns his fingers ; he does not know 
 what to do with it for fear of discovery. If he has obtained 
 rank and power, to keep them he is urged on to more murders, 
 in order to silence accusation. Although he may be dead to 
 any sentiment of humanity, yet his soul is tortured. Nothing 
 affords him pleasure ; he often wishes he had not bought, at the 
 price of such suffering, what he thought would afford him 
 satisfaction. Remorse assumes the expression of all the ugly 
 passions of our soul — fear, terror, despair, anger, jealousy, such 
 as are represented by the Figs. 16 to 34, Chap. XI., Physiognomy. 
 This constant disorderly state of our soul impresses its marks on 
 our countenance — the forehead becomes wrinkled, the eyes 
 become sunken and assume a haggard and cruel expression, the 
 lines at the sides of the nose and mouth become strongly marked. 
 The action of the body is restless, the walk is uncertain, irregular. 
 The hands are the very image of the soul, the fingers become 
 nervous, feverish, restless. The unfortunate creature tormented 
 by this terrible passion resorts in vain to dissipation. He cannot 
 drown his conscience in wine, nor can he efface the memory of 
 his deeds. He strikes his forehead with force or tears his hair 
 in despair. Remorse may be caused by a revulsion of feeling 
 in the soul towards nobler sentiments j in this case, it would 
 assume the more gentle expression of repentance, such as that of 
 Capulet, in the last scene of "Romeo and Juliet" : 
 
 ' As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie, 
 Poor sacrifices of our enmity." 
 
164 The Actor's Art. 
 
 The expression of this passion would be that of grief or 
 despair, Chapter XL Although this feeling would cause the 
 features to assume in time an expression of grief and suffering, 
 yet the physiognomy will preserve a look of dignity, whilst the 
 same sentiment being the result of terror caused by crime, would 
 stamp the face with all the signs of disorderly passions. The 
 expression of this former sentiment would take the form of 
 repentance. 
 
 XV. Shame. — The consciousness of a wrong action, and the 
 fear of discovery cause this sentiment. In presence of our 
 accuser, we endeavour to conceal our confusion by excuses which 
 make us feel all the more ashamed as they are ill conceived and 
 fail to impress those we most wish to persuade. Our restless 
 attitudes, the nervous movements of our hands, the blush on our 
 face, all tend to betray the disorderly state of our mind. If we 
 are caught in the very act, we turn pale, our limbs tremble, we 
 are struck dumb ; unable to run away, our expression becomes 
 that of dejection. We cast our eyes down, and cannot stand 
 the accusing glance of others. As soon as we become fully 
 aware of the ridiculousness in our position, or of the serious 
 consequences attached to it, we cry, or resort to false assertions. 
 If, for instance, our accuser points to an object we may have 
 stolen, we instinctively hide it. If it be a moral wrong, for which 
 we can find no excuse, we endeavour to give ourselves a counten- 
 ance by seizing hold of some object, such as the skirt of our coat, 
 or our hat, which we twist and turn in a nervous manner. 
 Stubborn people keep still and silent, no earthly power can move 
 them. 
 
 XVI. Timidity. — This feeling is caused by an innate senti- 
 ment of fear. The apprehension of unknown danger seems to 
 influence all the thoughts and actions of a timid and irresolute 
 person. It is often the result of early education, when the mind 
 may have been scared by dismal tales, dark cupboards and dark 
 rooms. This sentiment is almost natural to woman, in whom 
 sensibility and gentleness exist in greater proportions than in 
 man. Timidity being the opposite of courage can only be 
 
The Actor's Art. 165 
 
 expressed by mild gradations of fear, which is in itself the very 
 reverse of the latter sentiment. A short walk, gentle and nervous 
 actions, a subdued tone of voice are the signs of this feeling. 
 Timidity often arises from an excess of prudence. We fear not 
 being equal to our task ; we blush and tremble when we have to 
 undergo examination. 
 
 XVII. Suspicion. — Constant suspicion or anxious fear of 
 being deceived, will cause a sort of diseased state of the soul 
 more worthy of pity than anger for the unfortunate being who is 
 troubled with it. This sentiment is often the result of experience. 
 Youth is rarely suspicious, whilst old age is. There are two 
 striking gradations in this sentiment — that of mistrust, and 
 distrust or diffidence. There is a great difference between 
 mistrust and distrust; the first is the instinct of a timid and 
 perverse nature ; the second is the result of experience and 
 reflection. We are born with the first ; we acquire the second. 
 
 A mistrustful man judges of others by himself, and fears 
 them. 
 
 A distrusting man reserves his judgment of others. 
 
 We mistrust the disposition and intentions of others j we 
 distrust or guard against their talent and wit. Distrust in oneself 
 may be considered as a virtue if not carried to excess. It is 
 said that too much confidence constitutes a fop, too much 
 diffidence a fool. The suspicious man is one of the unhappiest 
 beings in creation ; he does not believe in friendship, gratitude, 
 or love, and suspects an interested motive in every sentiment. 
 An inquiring and restless expression in the eye, shaking of the 
 head, shrugging of shoulders, and a natural tendency to turn 
 away from those who address us, are the general symptoms of 
 this sentiment. The expression of the mistrusting man is any- 
 thing but happy ; anxiety, care, suffering are pictured on his 
 face. Like those of the miser or the hypocrite, his movements 
 are nervous, cautious, never spontaneous ; his attitude and walk 
 are timorous and undignified. On the contrary, modesty and 
 reflection are the impressive signs of the diffident man. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ON PRIMARY AND DERIVED SENTIMENTS. 
 
 JF we recapitulate the analysis contained in the preceding 
 chapters, we find that some passions are rendered by 
 expressions and actions peculiar to themselves, whilst others 
 borrow their expressions from them, or from a combination of 
 two or more sentiments. The first of these two classes of 
 passions we shall call primary, the second derived. 
 
 Some sentiments are expressed by a simple action, others by 
 a combination of contrary actions, Fig. 49, page 145. These 
 sentiments we may call simple and compound. 
 
 We find in the analysis of Basilio's song in the " Nozze de 
 Figaro" Chapter XXIV., sentiments that are expressed by meta- 
 phorical actions. These we should call figurative. Therefore, 
 if we classify these different sentiments, we obtain the following 
 table :— 
 
 Primary sentiments. 
 Derived sentiments. 
 Simple sentiments. 
 Compound sentiments. 
 Figurative sentiments. 
 
 All sentiments ought to be treated according to the above 
 
The Actor's Art. 167 
 
 order, giving at the same time the expression of the derived or 
 secondary, the compound, and the figurative sentiments. The 
 actions will be those of either of these classes, or of a modified 
 combination of the two. Pity can only be rendered by the com- 
 bined expression of love and suffering. Kindness is represented 
 by the combined expression of love and veneration. — Sorrow, 
 despondency, by the expression of suffering mixed with gentle 
 veneration. Mistrust and suspicion betray themselves by the 
 expression of secret grief, an anxious and furtive look, as well as 
 a constant anxiety to listen to the conversation of others. 
 Clemency is expressed by the appearance of love, modified by 
 dignity or pride, Hope sees happiness or success in the future 
 only; therefore it is never free from fear or doubt. It is 
 accordingly expressed by a combination of eagerness and fear. 
 Malicious Joy is rendered by the expression of hatred and con- 
 tempt. Envy differs from suffering in expression and from 
 hatred, inasmuch as the look is sly and often betrays shame. 
 The eyes cannot stand the searching glance of others. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 GRADATION AND HARMONY TO BE OBSERVED 
 BETWEEN THE SENTIMENTS AND THEIR EX- 
 PRESSIONS. 
 
 IN connecting the different actions it is necessary to observe 
 certain gradations, according to the situation and movement 
 of a piece. For instance, an actor will not wait until he has 
 delivered the very last word of a sentence, to leave the stage 
 suddenly. On the contrary, he will gradually prepare his exit 
 during the latter part of his phrase, and quit the stage whilst 
 saying the last words ; or, if the situation requires it, his very 
 last words will be followed by a pause, which will be all the more 
 impressive as the expression of his face and his action will continue 
 the effect of the sentence, and carry on the movement of the 
 piece without interruption until he has made his exit. In 
 comedy, when two people leave the stage together, they prepare 
 their exit whilst in conversation, and are almost out of sight 
 while still saying the last words. Precipitation between two 
 gestures, in fact want of repose in the general treatment of a 
 scene, completely destroys the illusion which the spectator would 
 otherwise feel. It is a common fault amongst young actors. 
 
 Imagination never passes from one sentiment to another 
 
The Actor's Art. 169 
 
 without undergoing a certain gradation or intermediate and pro- 
 gressive state ; without these the transitions would be so vapid 
 that the effect would be ludicrous, and for this very reason such 
 abrupt transitions are admissible only in comic parts, or in scenes 
 of madness, where the mind has lost all power of reasoning and 
 passions follow each other without any sense or control. In 
 Mdlle. Gay's (afterwards Madame de Girardin) Comedy in one 
 Act, " La joie fait peur" we find such sentiments as are susceptible 
 of the most exquisite and moving gradations in the human heart. 
 In the 8th scene, when Adrien, the son of Madame des Aubiers, 
 suddenly appears before Noel, the faithful old servant, — Regnier 
 (the celebrated actor of the Comedie Francaise), who was 
 performing the part, — at the sight of the unexpected young sailor 
 whose reported death had broken the mother's heart, remained 
 petrified ; it was for him a dream, not a reality ; gradually, as 
 his doubts vanished, the reaction of joy took place; — he 
 trembled, he tried to speak, but his voice faltered, the action 
 of his heart stopped ; he turned pale and fainted in young 
 Adrien's arms. It would be useless to attempt to describe such 
 acting. Regnier's emotion was so true, so natural, that scarcely 
 any one present was able to repress his tears. The next scenes 
 all work up to the last one, where Madame des Aubiers finds her 
 son again. The admirable gradation intended by the author and 
 so well observed by the actors — Regnier especially — made such 
 an impression that it left in all the spectators an indelible 
 memory. 
 
 Imagine, on the contrary, that some of the actors had suddenly 
 awakened the mother's suspicions by an ill-timed joy or im- 
 petuosity of manner, instead of careful and tender solicitude — 
 the movement of the piece would have gone on with such force 
 that nothing but the violent death of Madame des Aubiers could 
 have formed a climax, and harmonised with the galloping rapidity 
 of the sentiments. 
 
 If an actor,' because he has a dramatic part to perform, 
 comes on the stage looking fierce or overburdened by his 
 passions before any actual scene has passed that justifies his 
 
170 The Actor's Art. 
 
 fierceness of countenance ; if, at the least provocation, he splutters, 
 rants, roars, cries, and shows an uncalled-for exuberance of 
 action, what will he do when the sentiment increases in intensity, 
 or when a climax has to be reached ? His only course will be to 
 continue roaring and spluttering, until he gets hoarse and worn- 
 out. The consequence will be, that, instead of working up to 
 the paroxysm of passion by well-combined gradations, he will 
 become weak when he ought to be full of energy and power. 
 His voice will fail him ; and in his anxiety to produce an effect, 
 his acting will be outrageously overdone — he will be redundant 
 in his gesticulation. This total disregard of gradation shows that 
 actors neglect to observe Hamlet's advice : — 
 
 "Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with special 
 observance that you overstep not the modesty of nature," &c. 
 Such acting we should call stagey, or conventional and artificial; 
 that is, when casting nature aside, the actor, instead of selecting 
 action that would convey to the public a true expression of 
 real sentiments, and using such a tone of voice as he would 
 employ in ordinary or impassioned moments of life, adopts 
 certain attitudes and gestures, and a certain way of mouthing, 
 which he thinks specially suited to the stage, and which he 
 certainly ought to discard. This error causes him, the very 
 moment he steps upon the stage, to assume such a sad, gloomy, 
 tragic expression, that before the first act is over, he has already 
 exhausted the means of expressing such passions, as well-timed 
 vigour, play of physiognomy, and power of voice would have 
 enabled him to render with thrilling effect. Coleridge said 
 that "seeing Kean act was like reading Shakespeare by flashes of 
 lightning." To act by flashes of lightning is to observe such 
 gradations as may allow of impulsive, sublime moments of 
 passionate vigour. To draw a parallel, we may say that to act in 
 the midst of constant storm is to fall short of the commonest 
 understanding of human passions. The same may be said of 
 such a part as that of Triboulet, in Hugo's "Le Roi Samuse." 
 He is sarcastic but not boisterous ; cruel and cutting with the 
 noblemen of the court, he is servile and amusing with his master. 
 
The Actor's Art. 171 
 
 In passing from one sentiment to another the change may be 
 more or less rapid, as there is more or less hesitation between 
 the two sentiments to be exhibited. This depends on the state 
 of our mind and the contrast existing between the sentiments. 
 If we hear great news, whilst our mind is totally unprepared for 
 it, we pass through a series of gradations until the sentiment of 
 joy has replaced all other feelings. If, on the contrary, we partly 
 expect the news, our soul being already full of expectation, we 
 pass rapidly to the last stage of the highest contentment. For 
 instance, when Tubal calls the attention of Shylock to the fact 
 that, if he has lost his jewels other men have ill luck too, Shylock 
 passes rapidly from the sentiment of grief and rage to that of 
 joy. As Tubal contrasts his news of the extravagance of 
 Shylock's daughter with the ruin of Antonio, the rapid change 
 between two opposite sentiments is easily explained, if we 
 bear in mind that Shylock comes on the stage already tortured 
 by the loss of his property and incensed by the deceit of his 
 daughter. Therefore the news of Antonio's misfortunes is 
 received with avidity — a sentiment of joy rushes to the revenge- 
 ful man's soul, and becomes all the more predominant as he 
 anticipates the moment when his cruel vengeance will be satiated 
 by taking the life of a hated Christian. 
 
 This sentiment of revenge so entirely engrosses his mind that 
 all his thoughts and actions are consecrated on that one object. 
 Supposing that Shylock had heard the news of his daughter's 
 flight and of Antonio's reverses at the same time, it is evident 
 that his passions would have undergone many gradations before 
 the sentiment of despair had given way to that of malicious joy. 
 
 HARMONY TO BE OBSERVED BETWEEN THE 
 ACTION AND THE SENTIMENTS. 
 
 The first condition for an actor is to look the character he 
 represents. His deportment and action, and the expression of his 
 face, must be in perfect harmony with the sentiments he has to 
 express. Garrick said to a French actor : " You performed your 
 part of the drunkard admirably ; only, if I may be permitted to 
 
172 The Actor's Art. 
 
 make an observation, your left foot looked awkward." No doubt 
 Garrick meant to say that the actor's left foot did not look in 
 harmony with the other parts of his body. 
 
 This evidently shows the importance of modifying or correct- 
 ing the defects we may have naturally, or may have acquired by 
 negligence. The toes turned in, the knees giving way, the head 
 drooping on one side, would certainly not be in keeping with a 
 sentiment of pride or dignity. The face must also be in harmony 
 with the different sentiments or passions to be expressed. Young 
 actors often fail in this ; and although their youth and beauty may 
 greatly favour them, yet the complete want of expression in the 
 face shows that their mind is under the influence of fear or indeci- 
 sion, or that they do not feel the sentiments they have to express. 
 As the features are not moved by any inward emotion, they 
 remain impassible. The expression of the face is as cold as 
 marble. All possible illusion is therefore lost for the spectator* 
 
 It is absolutely necessary that the actor should study thoroughly 
 the general movement, not only of a piece as a whole, but of each 
 separate scene, so as to harmonise his part with those of others ; 
 that is, he must know to regulate his acting according to the 
 situation, and make it predominant or subse?'vient, as the author 
 intends it to be. If, in a dramatic scene, some actor of a subor- 
 dinate part ventured on an ill-timed pantomimic action, although 
 his part might be comic, he would either irritate the public, or 
 cause laughter, where a sentiment of sorrow or terror ought to 
 animate the spectators j and, as Hamlet observed, " though it 
 might make the thoughtless laugh, would cause the judicious to 
 grieve." Again, if the principal actor were to monopolise the 
 entire attention for himself, when the principal interest ought to 
 bear on others, the effect of the scene would entirely miscarry. In 
 dramas, the movement of the piece is often varied by the happy 
 introduction of some cheerful or gentle sentiment, so as to give 
 more effect to the tragic scenes, or in order to afford relief to the 
 spectators. These are the lights and shades of the comedy or 
 tragedy which prove highly effective if rendered with art and 
 judgment. 
 
The Actor's Art. 173 
 
 However secondary may be the part he has to perform, let the 
 actor remember that he forms part of a picture. The eyes of the 
 public are upon him wherever he may be on the stage. Neglect, 
 either in his deportment or actions, would mar the harmony of the 
 picture. 
 
 Let the singer, as well as the actor, be careful never to forget 
 himself after a monologue or a song. If the voice has ceased to 
 be heard, the movement of the piece goes on just the same ; 
 therefore the action must continue, and the actor must carefully 
 avoid throwing himself into such an attitude as to indicate that the 
 moment has come for applause. The actor or singer who throws 
 true feeling into his acting will always fairly win his reward. He 
 must carefully avoid such intonations of voice or action as would 
 express the contrary of what he means. For instance, to express 
 a sentiment of terror with a composed action or a calm expression 
 of the face, or to render every figurative sentiment by redundant 
 gesticulation, would be simply absurd. When the king says to 
 Hamlet : 
 
 " How is it that the clouds still hang on you ? " 
 
 It would be laughable were he to point to the clouds, then to 
 represent the act of hanging, and lastly to point to Hamlet. As 
 this phrase is figurative, and amounts to a simple question, one 
 single appropriate action, or even the searching eye of the King 
 will express quite enough. 
 
 Riccoboni says, " People of the lower class, who easily give 
 way to the impressions they receive, do not know how to control 
 their feelings. They are the true models of strong expression. 
 We see in them the dejection of grief, the crouching of the suppli- 
 cant, the scornful pride of the conqueror, passion carried to 
 excess, lastly, the great tragic feeling. Let us add to these a 
 varnish of politeness, and it will be perfection. In one word, we 
 must express ourselves like the people, and carry ourselves like 
 noblemen." 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 GESTURES, AND SUMMARY OF ACTION. 
 
 IN descriptive ballets the dancers have to express all their 
 sentiments by pantomimic action. Mute actors, such as the 
 dumb girl in " Masaniello" are also introduced. This sort of 
 acting requires a great knowledge of the different gestures appro- 
 priate to each sentiment and passion. The first condition for a 
 good pantomimist is to possess a face susceptible of great variety 
 of expression — of great mobility. The very faults to avoid in 
 tragedy or high comedy could be turned to good account in low 
 comedy or comic parts. Symmetric, awkward movements prove 
 very successful when judiciously used. — See Figs. 22, 23, 24, 25, 
 pages 55 to 58. 
 
 Fig. 48, page 83, would correspond to the expression, "Do 
 you see a mote in my eye ? " — In mockery, the gestures are always 
 exaggerated, as we endeavour to throw ridicule on others. 
 
 SUMMARY OF DIFFERENT GESTURES. 
 
 A hat held in the hand, a three-cornered hat carried under the 
 arm, the hand resting on a sword, give a graceful appearance when 
 varied with other actions. 
 
 Taking or offering snuff was a very important act in the time 
 
The Actor's Art. 175 
 
 of " Richelieu," when noblemen made a point of carrying a snuff 
 box to imitate the Prime Minister. Particular grace was displayed 
 in delicately applying the tips of the fingers to the nose, and great 
 care was taken not to soil the costly lace of the shirt or frill. 
 Some carried richly inlaid bonbonnieres, equal to a snuff box in 
 size, but slightly different in shape. 
 
 Sneezing, coughing, winking, are resorted to as signs of warn- 
 ing : also a touch with the elbow, which expresses doubt as well. 
 
 In eating and drinking, the actor must endeavour to represent 
 the act of every-day life, and go through his meal with perfectly 
 natural action, not letting the public see that he has only a " pro- 
 perty " chicken on the table. In one English play, by the way, it 
 was long the stage tradition to introduce a real leg of mutton, 
 sometimes to the great satisfaction of the hungry actors who took 
 part in the scene. It is always advisable to have some real eatable 
 that the actor can put in his mouth. 
 
 In holding a glass or goblet, actors — and especially singers — 
 whilst singing a drinking song, generally flourish it about, for- 
 getting that it is supposed to be full of wine — or drain it with such 
 rapidity that the illusion is really impossible. Such errors must 
 be carefully avoided. 
 
 In shaking hands, a lady will always present the hand nearest 
 to the interlocutor. 
 
 In kneeling towards a person, the right knee will touch the 
 ground if the actor is to the left of the public ; or the left knee if 
 on the right side of the public. 
 
 Dresses with long trains require careful management on the 
 part of ladies. A quiet movement of the body in the act of 
 turning, with a graceful and well timed touch of the hand, will 
 keep the train in its place. Kicking the dress back is not always 
 a graceful movement. 
 
 Crossing each other on the stage must always be subservient 
 to the requirements of the scene and have a motive. It must be 
 natural and never conventional. We often see actors cross each 
 other without any apparent reason, thinking, perhaps, that it 
 breaks the monotony caused by standing in the same position. 
 
176 The Actor's Art. 
 
 In doing so, they are purely conventional. The crossing must 
 be properly timed, and justified by the immediate action that 
 follows. 
 
 In a paroxysm of terror or passion, the difficulty of breathing 
 is often accompanied by a choking noise, caused by the contrac- 
 tion of the larynx. The reproduction of this action on the stage 
 is of great effect when properly timed and judiciously resorted to. 
 
 Fencing is an art sadly neglected amongst actors and tra- 
 gedians generally, who are constantly fighting on the stage. It 
 requires skill and elegance, and ought therefore to be thoroughly 
 studied under a master. An awkward thrust has often been the 
 cause of an accident. In fighting a duel it is necessary to measure 
 the ground, and settle beforehand on what part of the stage the 
 fall or death will take place, so as to prevent confusion in the 
 following scenes, which would destroy the harmony of the general 
 picture. 
 
 A duel must be essentially conventional, unless it is repre- 
 sented by two actors perfectly masters of the art. The reason of 
 this is that, instead of being a dignified and elegant action, it 
 degenerates into a ridiculous struggle and confusion. Therefore 
 to avoid this it is necessary that every thrust or guard should be 
 studied, agreed upon, as well as numbered, so that every action 
 should be well timed. 
 
 The action of bowing is based on the rules already explained, 
 and is more or less respectful, as it is directed to an equal, a 
 superior, or a lady. Grace and dignity form the essential part of 
 its performance. 
 
 Salutation varies according to nationalities and degrees of 
 intimacy. 
 
 The Turks raise the hands to the lips, and thence to their 
 turban. 
 
 Italians and Spaniards raise their hats, shake hands or kiss 
 each other, even in the streets. The French or English wave 
 their hands or raise their hats. Amongst some of the actions we 
 have seen in characteristic parts, we remember a French actor in 
 
The Actor's Art. 177 
 
 Paris playing the part of Fouinard in the " Courrier de Lyons" 
 His attire being rather disreputable, he had a loose, worn old shoe 
 that kept dropping from his foot. To keep it on he was compelled 
 to drag it on the ground; and if by any mischance he took a 
 hurried step the unfortunate shoe would drop off, which compelled 
 him to stop and get his foot in again, or, if running, to go back for 
 it. This ridiculous mishap occurred when he was in the greatest 
 hurry or in the most tragic moment ; the action was done with so 
 much nature and ease that it was quite a relief to the existing 
 scenes, and showed as a contrast of quaintness against the rascality 
 of his companion Choppard. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FAULTS TO BE AVOIDED ON THE STAGE. 
 
 ONE of the commonest errors amongst actors is, whilst 
 addressing their interlocutors on the stage, to turn towards 
 them, thus offering their side-face to the public. The persistent 
 keeping of the head in this position has two great disadvantages. 
 In the first place, the words being directed to the right or left are 
 not distinctly heard by the public on the opposite side. In the 
 second place, the expression of the face is only half seen by the 
 spectators. In order to obviate this, it is necessary to observe the 
 following rules : — 
 
 Firstly. Avoid standing side by side with the person you are 
 
 addressing. 
 Secondly. Keep the body in the second position and three 
 
 parts turned towards the public. 
 
 As the floor of the stage is composed of boards, it is an easy 
 matter for the actors to keep the width of one or two boards 
 between them ; for example : 
 
 Adcr A cUr 
 
The Actor's Art. 179 
 
 Either of the positions 1 and 2, or 2 and 3. This position is 
 extremely favourable, especially when the scene is impressive and 
 takes place between two actors. The speaker being on the second 
 board, and in the second position, faces the public almost entirely, 
 his words are clearly heard, the play of his physiognomy is dis- 
 tinctly seen. If actor No. 2 or No. 3 has an " aside " to say, he 
 merely turns his head to the opposite side from his interlocutors, 
 and has no need to move his body. The by-play of the listener, 
 whose part may be to hide his emotions from his companion, is 
 entirely exposed to the eye of the audience, who eagerly watch the 
 different expressions of his face. This quiet although impressive 
 attitude of the two actors adds greatly to the effect and power of a 
 scene, which would fall flat were they to interrupt the movement 
 and flow of the passions by a constant change of position, turning 
 of heads and awkwardness of attitudes. If the dialogue between 
 the two characters is rapid and animated an occasional and well- 
 timed change of position may take place. The general rule to 
 follow is this : — Let the actor fall back to the second board when- 
 ever he wishes to make an impression on others, and let him 
 come forward to the first board whenever he has to receive an 
 impression. 
 
 As the public is the first consideration for an actor, it is barely 
 admissible that he should turn his back to the auditorium ; yet 
 some exceptions are not only perfectly allowable, but may be the 
 natural consequence of the requirements of some of the scenes. 
 If we suppose several people, some sitting, others standing, round 
 a fire place, the actor on whom devolves the principal interest of 
 the scene, will, as a matter of course, assume the most prominent 
 position, so that he may be seen and heard distinctly by the 
 public, whom he would naturally face. The other characters 
 being in the position of listeners, might consistently turn towards 
 him, and thus stand with their backs to the spectators. 
 
 Thus, when the ghost of Hamlet's father appears at the side 
 of the stage, he concentrates on himself, for a few moments, a 
 great part of the public's attention ; it would not therefore be 
 inconsistent for Hamlet to face the spectre, although he would by 
 
180 The Actor's Art. 
 
 doing so partly hide his face from the audience. Should he 
 persist in that position, Hamlet would have to raise the pitch of 
 his voice slightly, and pronounce his words slowly, so that not a 
 syllable should be lost. 
 
 When Othello is wound up to a state of wild passion by Iago's 
 insinuations, he becomes so violent and abrupt in all his move- 
 ments, that should he in his impetuosity be so regardless of 
 theatrical conventionalities as to address him whilst his back was 
 turned to the public, it would not only look perfectly natural, but 
 even prove highly effective (Fig. 52, page 181). We may say 
 that there is nothing awkward or ridiculous on the stage that is 
 natural and well timed. Experience, taste, and a true love of the 
 art are the safest guides for an actor. 
 
 ON THE WANT OF HARMONY IN THE GENERAL 
 ACTION AND THE SCENES. 
 
 One of the principal evils of the stage is, no doubt, the 
 starring system, which is a source of endless abuses. Not only 
 are the actors or singers, excepting the star, often totally unfit for 
 their parts, but the scenery is utterly disregarded, so that, to hear 
 one good performer, the public is compelled to undergo a succes- 
 sion of painful sensations, which counterbalance, if they do not 
 destroy, the pleasure given by the talent of the principal actor. 
 Everything is sacrificed to that object, and the works of the great 
 masters are entirely misrepresented. The actors are scarcely ever 
 perfect in their " words," and the want of sufficient preparation in 
 rehearsal is always perceptible. To single out some of the errors, 
 we will mention facts we have witnessed in the performance of 
 Shakespeare's tragedies, "Othello" and "King Lear" The first 
 scene in the first act of "King Lear" is a state room in the King's 
 palace. To say nothing of the slovenliness of the scenery in general, 
 we will simply state that in the middle of the stage there is a plat- 
 form, on which is placed an armchair, similar to a throne, and on 
 each side two smaller armchairs. The King enters, followed by 
 his three daughters and others j he takes his place on the throne ; 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 181 
 
 Fig. 52. 
 
1 82 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Goneril sits at his right, Regan at his left hand, and, to complete the 
 picture, Cordelia sits at the foot of the throne. As soon as Lear 
 says "Goneril, our eldest born, speak first;" she gets up, takes 
 three or four steps towards the footlights, and, turning her back to 
 the public to address her father, she answers, — " Sir, I love 
 you ..." &c. ; having ended her speech, she resumes her 
 seat, close to her father. Then says the King : " Our dearest 
 Regan, wife to Cornwall, speak ! " Regan immediately gets up, 
 walks up to the footlights, turns her back to the public, delivers 
 her answer and goes again to her seat. Lastly, Cordelia answers 
 her father in exactly the same attitude, her action being the fac- 
 simile of that of her sisters. The consequence of such acting is 
 this : in the first place, it is monotonous and unnatural to see 
 three actresses do exactly the same thing, especially when one of 
 them expresses sentiments totally different from those of the 
 others. In the second place, the expression of their physiognomy 
 is entirely lost to the public j and, thirdly, they are compelled to 
 rant and shout their words in order to be heard. Thus, instead 
 of the subtle music with which the voice ought to deliver the kind 
 words of filial love, as intended by Shakespeare, we hear an 
 unmusical and strained sound. Hamlet's advice to the actors 
 would be quite applicable in this instance : " Speak the speech, I 
 pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue ; but 
 if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had lief the town 
 crier spoke my lines." 
 
 To avoid these errors it would be far better for the three 
 daughters to keep their places, and, by their graceful and varied 
 attitudes whilst addressing their father, add a great charm to the 
 gentle delivery of their loving words, without having to turn their 
 backs to the public. It is true that by this latter attitude they act up 
 to the King, who during the whole time holds the entire attention of 
 the public, the other actors becoming mere figures in a background. 
 If so what becomes of the harmony of the piece ? Is it one person 
 the public has come to see and hear, or a great tragedy worth 
 attention in its minutest details ? Shakespeare's words are thrilling 
 whether in a king's mouth or in that of a knave \ therefore to 
 
The Actor's Art. 183 
 
 sacrifice any part of his great works is to disregard the intentions 
 of a great writer. 
 
 Actors are apt to forget that the eyes of the spectators are fixed 
 on them, and that none of their actions or looks escape criticism. 
 Hence numerous mistakes are made, which ought to be carefully 
 avoided. We have seen in the fifth act of " Othello" Iago standing 
 behind the body of Roderigo, who is lying on the ground, wounded 
 by Cassio ; and whilst Roderigo says " Oh ! murderous slave ! 
 oh ! villain ! " Iago pretends to drive his sword through his dupe's 
 body (not stabbing him), leaning on the sword with great effort, 
 changing at the same time the tone of his voice, as we are apt to 
 do when we perform acts requiring great physical power. If the 
 actor had turned his back to the public, and killed Roderigo 
 quickly, we should not have seen where the sword went, but by 
 the fact of his facing the public, every one could see it go into the 
 floor, and this all the more distinctly as Iago made a great point 
 of this most ludicrous action. In the same scene, when Cassio 
 has wounded Roderigo, Iago, instead of wounding Cassio in the 
 leg, thrusts him in the ribs. Whether such an unlucky thrust was 
 the result of ignorance, or of too great a hurry, it matters not ; 
 the result was the same. 
 
 We will point out one more action, which we think is a decided 
 error. In witnessing the same performance, we saw Othello, in 
 the paroxysm of his passion, throw his cap in the air. This seems 
 to us more the act of a boy, who for want of a stone throws his 
 cap at another boy, and not at all in harmony with the tempera- 
 ment of a great warrior. 
 
 In the second act of "Faust" (Gounod), when Valentine, 
 seeing that he has to deal with the Devil, holds up the cross- 
 shaped hilt of his broken sword at Mephistopheles, the latter's 
 nerves are so thoroughly overpowered by the sight, to him repul- 
 sive, that he helplessly shrinks from it. It grates upon his nerves 
 as a sound out of tune grates upon the ear. The contraction of 
 his features, the nervous twitching of his body, which he turns 
 away from the hated symbol, are the expressive signs of his state 
 of mind. Instead of this simple expression, it seems the accepted 
 
184 The Actor's Art. 
 
 tradition amongst singers to crawl on all fours, as it were, from 
 one side of the stage to the other, some biting their swords, others 
 falling to the ground after having reached the opposite corner of 
 the stage. This exuberance of action seems to us out of place, 
 and if it has been adopted by one actor, it is no reason why every 
 one should do the same. Moreover, what may be successfully 
 done by one may be miserably bungled by another. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MAKING UP THE FACE. 
 
 WE would recommend students of the dramatic art to 
 study Chapter XI., on physiognomy, as it will assist 
 them greatly in mastering the art of " making up " their faces ; 
 which art contributes in a great measure to the perfect harmony 
 that must necessarily exist in the general appearance of an actor. 
 
 If we cannot materially alter the shape of our head, yet with 
 the assistance of artificial means, such as wigs, beards, paint, &c, 
 we can modify to a great extent the natural defects or our 
 expression, so as to look the part we have to represent, although 
 our natural face may differ from it. 
 
 A conscientious actor ought to make himself acquainted with 
 the works of the painters, as he will acquire by their study the 
 knowledge of general effects. The want of such knowledge 
 causes an absence of accuracy in " making up " and dressing for 
 a part, which betrays itself in the indiscriminate use of these 
 artificial means. We may assert that if an actor is fully pene- 
 trated with his part he will require but very few touches to 
 complete a picture, which his action, words, and attitudes already 
 greatly contribute to represent. Such lines as we see drawn in 
 Lebrun's faces, Chapter XL, or as may be stamped by nature on 
 our own or on others' faces, may serve as guides to trace, for 
 
1 86 The Actor's Art. 
 
 instance, the wrinkles of old age. The first desideratum in 
 making up is to look natural, taking into consideration the glare 
 of the gas lights and the distance between the actor and the. 
 public. The strong light necessitates the use of artificial means 
 in order to give an agreeable complexion, or to modify it, if dark 
 or sanguine ; otherwise the colour of the skin would look coarse 
 and red. The make-up of the face must be regulated therefore 
 according to the requirements of the complexion, and of the part 
 to be represented. To obtain the desired results it would be 
 advisable to experimentalise according to the following hints : — 
 
 Pearl white, rouge, and violet powder are the principal in- 
 gredients used to make up a young face, and are applied in the 
 following manner : If the complexion is fair, simply spread some 
 cold cream on the face, and with a puff put some violet powder 
 or powdered magnesia. If the skin is dark, it is necessary to mix 
 some pearl white with cold cream and spread it carefully, so as 
 not to leave any patches. As this mineral white is crude in 
 shade, it is desirable to soften it by passing violet powder over it, 
 thus giving transparency to the complexion. The application of 
 the rouge must begin immediately under the eyelashes and spread 
 mostly on the bony part of the cheek, leaving the nose untouched. 
 Want of discrimination in the use of rouge would cause the face 
 to look like a highly-coloured doll; this would not harmonise 
 with the natural complexion. The rouge and white must blend 
 together. A thin line of dark brown traced over the lower eye- 
 lashes gives force of expression and brightness to the eyes. 
 
 For an African complexion, we should take amber brown, 
 mixed with the smallest quantity of purple brown ; this made 
 into a very thin paste with cold cream or lard, would be a near 
 approach to an African complexion. Care must be taken in all 
 cases to spread over the colouring a dry powder of the same 
 colour, mixed with a small quantity of magnesia or violet powder, 
 so as to counteract the shiny appearance caused by the use of 
 cold cream. 
 
 Ochre, mixed with a very small quantity of amber brown, would 
 imitate a sallow complexion, such as we often see in old people. 
 
The Actor's Art. 187 
 
 Amber brown mixed with a smaller quantity of chrome, and 
 the smallest possible quantity of purple brown, would imitate the 
 dull colour of a Persian. 
 
 Wrinkles are traced or imitated by means of paste pencils, 
 such as are to be had at theatrical hairdressers. Pure black is 
 too crude and hard for this purpose, as it gives an unnatural 
 appearance and makes up what we should call a "dirty" face. 
 The colours must be as nearly as possible an approach to the 
 natural colour of the skin. The actor must trace with the pencils 
 the lines of the face, round the eyes, alongside the nose, and on 
 the forehead, having previously spread a very thin coating of cold 
 cream all over the face. 
 
 The eyebrows are whitened with pearl white (blanc de perle), 
 mixed with cold cream. Violet powder or magnesia spread over 
 the face, with or without any of the powders above mentioned, 
 will blend all the colours together, and tone down the general 
 make-up. 
 
 A bald wig requires a great deal of attention so as to look 
 natural, as the colour given to it by the hairdresser rarely corre- 
 sponds to that of our complexion. The line caused by the wig 
 on the forehead is also very offensive to the eye. In order to 
 avoid these contrasts it is necessary to spread a flesh-coloured 
 pomatum on the wig and forehead, so as to blend the two 
 together. 
 
 We recommend cold cream instead of water for the mixing of 
 colours : not only does it spread evenly on the face without 
 patches, but the perspiration does not affect it, nor does the skin 
 get so easily injured. 
 
 Magnesia is an excellent substitute for violet powder — easy to 
 get, cheaper, and free from chalk. A thin coating of amber brown 
 mixed with a very small quantity of white and spread under the 
 eyes gives them a sunken appearance. 
 
 Chrome and violet powder mixed together deaden the colour 
 of the skin and gives a ghastly appearance. The same mixture 
 can be made into a paste. When the eyes have a sunken appear- 
 ance, rouge on the nose, and very little on the bony part of the 
 
1 88 The Actor's Art. 
 
 cheek, with chrome mixed with white spread over the face, gives 
 the appearance of a low, drunken type. 
 
 A thin coating of amber brown, spread in the hollow of the 
 cheeks will make the face look thinner. 
 
 The combination of the eyes and cheeks being sunk, a thin 
 coating of chrome mixed with white powder over the face will 
 give the appearance of a dying person. In this case no rouge 
 must be used. 
 
 A little crimson paste on the lips, as well as a little rouge on 
 the tips of the ears, and also on the nails, will add freshness and 
 transparency to the skin. Care must be taken to whiten the 
 neck and hands. 
 
 There are many ways of making up the face that are more or 
 less typical, and which words cannot possibly describe. It is for 
 the actor to study the combination of colours and general effects, 
 so as to look the part he has to play. 
 
 Many artistes carry this art to such perfection that they are 
 scarcely recognisable on the stage. 
 
 It is said that the celebrated French actress Dejazet, who 
 played the part of young lovers, at the age of 70, used to get rid 
 of her numerous wrinkles by means of elastic wigs that kept the 
 skin tightly drawn from the forehead. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 189 
 
 Fig. 53. 
 
190 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 54. 
 
 In Figs. 53 and 54, we see the faces of two very old people. 
 The lines may serve as a guide in tracing the wrinkles. Figs. 55, 
 56> 57? 5^j 59> 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, may serve as guides in the use 
 of wigs and moustaches. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 191 
 
 Fig. 55. 
 
192 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 56. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 193 
 
 Fig. 57. 
 
194 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 58. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 T 95 
 
 Fig. 59. 
 
196 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 ^P o 
 
 Fig. 60. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 197 
 
 Fig. 61. 
 
198 
 
 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 62. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 199 
 
 Fig. 63. 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Fig. 64. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ANALYSIS OF MARK ANTONY'S ORATION OVER 
 THE CORPSE OF CAESAR. 
 
 IN Act III., Scene IL, of Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar," Mark 
 Antony, being requested by some of the Roman people to 
 go up into the public chair, says : 
 
 " For Brutus' sake I am beholden to you ! " 
 Upon their invitation he ascends the rostrum, his manner and 
 looks betraying the sorrowful state of his mind. Facing the 
 assembly, he waits until silence and order are restored ; his looks 
 and dignified attitude impressing all those around with the 
 solemnity of the occasion. On his address depends the fate of 
 his cause ; he must win partisans to his side, and destroy the 
 effect of the speech Brutus has just made, proving Caesar to have 
 been a tyrant. Although he professes not to be an orator, "as 
 Brutus is," yet he delivers his speech with consummate ability ; 
 his eloquence is natural and spontaneous; he insinuates himself 
 into the feelings of the people — tender and pathetic at first when 
 he speaks of Caesar, he becomes sarcastic when he speaks of his 
 enemies. With' consummate skill he uses such language as may 
 be understood by all, and gradually changes the emphasis as he 
 goes on, measuring his sarcasm by the feelings of his audience. 
 "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears." 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Having said these words with a solemn voice, he looks round 
 the assembly, and makes a pause until his words have produced 
 the desired effect. 
 
 " I come to bury Caesar." 
 
 Here Mark Antony points, with a slow movement of the hand, 
 to the body lying on the hearse, and at some distance from him, 
 his eyes following the same direction : then raising them again, 
 full of grief, whilst the hand remains in the same position, he says 
 in a lower tone of voice : 
 
 " Not to praise him." 
 The hand having fallen down again as if powerless, he continues 
 in a higher pitch : 
 
 " The evil that men do lives after them ; 
 The good is often buried with their bones : " 
 
 and whilst saying in a lower tone : 
 
 " So let it be with Ccesar" 
 his hand will again point to the body, whilst the eyes will follow 
 the same direction. After a short pause he gazes upon the 
 assembly, and dropping his hand, he exclaims : 
 
 M The noble Brutus 
 Hath told you Caesar was ambitious." 
 
 On this last word he raises his right hand suddenly, pointing 
 upwards with the first finger, thus adding force to this accusation. 
 
 " If it were so, it was a grievous fault." 
 During this phrase he lowers his hand to the level of his face 
 with a slight movement indicating acknowledgment, whilst the 
 left hand is extended forward, level with the waist, expressing the 
 same sentiment : — 
 
 "And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.*' 
 Here Antony looks down upon the body and shakes his head in 
 sorrow, whilst his hands drop down one after the other. Raising 
 his head again, after a moment's pause, he proceeds — 
 
 " Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest — 
 For Brutus is an honourable man ; 
 So are they all, all honourable men." — 
 
The Actor's Art. 203 
 
 While delivering these lines he assumes the expression of 
 sincerity, as if acknowledging an undoubted fact. The hands 
 will be slightly spread forth, as if offering the fact for their 
 consideration. 
 
 " Come I to speak of Caesar's funeral." 
 
 Here the hands are slightly spread in a downward direction, with 
 the palms upwards. 
 
 " He was my friend — faithful and just to me." 
 
 Here the head is gently shaken, the eyes being fixed on the body 
 and the hands kept in the same position as in the last lines. 
 
 " But Brutus says he was ambitious ; " 
 
 In saying this, the eyes are fixed on the body, the hands as 
 before, the voice being solemn, low-pitched, and vibrating. 
 
 "And Brutus is an honourable man." 
 
 Here the actor will raise his head, his face assuming a slightly 
 sarcastic expression, by a faint smile and a slight frowning of the 
 eyebrows, the left hand making a slow movement up and down, 
 the action this time being less decided in its assertion, the right 
 hand having dropped down first. 
 
 " He has brought many captives home to Rome." 
 
 In saying these words, his face and voice brighten up, both hands 
 advancing rapidly towards the body with the palms upwards. 
 
 " Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill." 
 
 Here the voice becomes clear and is pitched high, whilst the 
 hands emphasise the fact by an abrupt and decided movement, 
 with the palms upwards. 
 
 " Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? " 
 
 This question is asked slowly, with a low and sonorous voice, 
 whilst the arms are folded on the chest, the head being moved 
 with a decided movement on the word ambitious, and raised as in 
 the act of interrogating. 
 
 "When that the poor have cried," 
 
2 04 The Actor's Art. 
 
 These words are said with a touching pathos, in rather a loud 
 voice, whilst the arms are unfolded, and extended forward with 
 a movement, offering the fact to the listeners \ the following 
 words are spoken in a lower and tearful voice — 
 
 " Caesar hath wept," 
 
 the eyes of Antony being filled with tears. 
 
 "Ambition should be made of sterner stuff." 
 
 This sentence is uttered with energy, and the face already betrays 
 a sentiment of contempt, whilst the right hand is raised above 
 the head with a sort of energetic flourish. Here a pause will be 
 observed, so as to allow the words to make their impression. 
 After a short moment, the left hand drops, the right arm slowly 
 following the same movement. 
 
 "Yet Brutus says he was amfo'tious." 
 A scornful, low, and sonorous voice will utter this sentence. 
 
 "And Brutus is an honourable man." 
 
 This is said rather slowly, with a slightly sneering voice and a 
 somewhat sarcastic expression of the face, both hands being raised 
 and moved with a similar expression without presenting the palm 
 to the public, the head nodding in doubtful assent. 
 
 "You all did see that on the Lupercal 
 I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
 Which he did thrice refuse." 
 
 The voice here is pitched high ; the right hand presents the 
 fact to the auditors, being again raised higher and lowered 
 immediately to the same level on the last words " thrice refuse." 
 The left hand is advanced also slightly with the palm up, but 
 without assuming so important an expression. 
 " Was this ambition ? " 
 
 Here the two hands are spread symmetrically forward, asking the 
 question with great vehemence, the face being full of eagerness 
 and energy, the eyes fixed in the distance. 
 
 "Yet Brutus says he was ambitious." 
 
The Actor's Art. 205 
 
 This sentence is spoken with force, the hands remaining in the 
 same position as in the last words — • 
 
 "And, sure, he is an honourable man." 
 
 The left hand is raised as high as the head on the words " and 
 sure," whilst the voice says them with a loud and abrupt tone, 
 the face assuming an expression of sarcastic sincerity ; after a full 
 stop the speaker continues with irony, " He is an honourable 
 man." Here the left hand is lowered level with the right hand, 
 both offering the fact to the audience, whilst the pitch of voice 
 is lowered and modulated into an insinuating tone, a sort of 
 disparaging smile spreading over the face : 
 
 " I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke." 
 
 On the words "speak not" the left hand is raised, the first finger 
 being slightly shaken, the right assuming a secondary expression. 
 
 " But here I am to speak what I do know." 
 
 On the words "here I am" both hands are lowered, with an 
 authoritative movement, the palm not quite turned up, the left 
 retaining a higher position. The head will give strength to 
 the words " what I do know " by one decided movement down 
 and up. 
 
 "You all did love him once, not without cause." 
 
 The hands are spread apart, with the palms upwards, the voice 
 being raised on the word "love" and doleful, as though in 
 memory of the past, on the words "not without cause." 
 "What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him?" 
 
 The hands are kept as above, the voice being raised higher, and 
 in the interrogative. 
 
 " Oh ! judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
 And men have lost their reason." 
 
 These words are said more in despair than in bitterness. They 
 are meant as a reproach rather than as a disparagement to their 
 moral faculties. Antony's purpose was to persuade his hearers, 
 and certainly not to offend them. In the first part of this 
 
2o6 The Actor's Art. 
 
 sentence, the right hand drops down, whilst in the second part, 
 " Men have lost their reason," the left hand is raised, and 
 immediately after slowly cropped, as in despondency. 
 
 " Bear with me " — (a pause) — 
 " My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar," 
 
 pointing to the body with the flat of the right hand, the eyes full 
 
 of tears and raised to heaven, as though in contemplation of his 
 
 soul. 
 
 "And I must pause till it come back to me." 
 
 Here the speaker will cover his face with his hands, sobbing 
 silently. Antony's grief is dignified and impressive. 
 
 Having lowered his hands and looked round the assembly, he 
 gives them time to comment on his words. Then, when silence 
 has been restored, the speaker continues : 
 
 " But yesterday the word of Caesar might 
 Have stood against the world." 
 
 This phrase is said with force whilst the hand is raised above the 
 
 head, with the forefinger pointing upwards : 
 
 " Now lies he there." 
 
 This is said after a pause, the left hand dropping, whilst the right 
 
 hand presents its palm and extends towards the body at the same 
 
 time : 
 
 "And none so poor to do him reverence." 
 
 The speaker must avoid looking too often at the body : the eyes 
 constantly lowered lose their expression, and that sameness of 
 action would be monotonous and unimpressive. 
 
 " Oh, masters, if I were disposed to stir 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage" 
 
 This phrase, begun softly, becomes louder, more vigorous, and 
 lastly very forcible both in tone and actions, when it comes to the 
 words mutiny and rage ; this first insinuation being thrown out, 
 Antony goes back quickly to his first tactics, and with a sort of 
 reticence, he adds — 
 
 " I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
 Who, you all know, are honourable men." 
 
The Actor's Art. 207 
 
 A soft insinuating inflexion of voice with a strong emphasis on the 
 words " all know," and the same movements as in the preceding 
 similar phrase will express this sentence : — 
 
 " I will not do them wrong : I rather choose 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, 
 Than I will wrong such honourable men." 
 
 This is said with a loud voice, almost pompously, with warm 
 action, as though Antony wanted to work himself into the 
 persuasion of his own words : on the word " honourable" — which 
 is pronounced with emphasis — an involuntary expression of 
 contempt will suffice to deny the assertions he has just made. 
 The right hand in this sentence will assume the principal action, 
 and will rise with a slight undulation of the wrist level with the 
 head, and as though throwing the honourableness of "such 
 honourable men " to the winds. 
 
 " But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar — 
 I found it in his closet : " 'it's his zuill !" 
 
 The last words are pronounced with great solemnity, whilst the 
 eyes that were lowered on the parchment are raised to the 
 audience in saying, " 'tis his will" 
 
 u Let but the commons hear this testament 
 (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) " 
 
 The latter part of this sentence is uttered as a remonstrance, 
 whilst what follows will be declaimed with all the warmth, 
 tenderness, and richness of tone of which a musical voice is 
 capable. 
 
 "And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 
 
 And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 
 
 Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
 
 And, dying, mention it within their wills, 
 
 Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
 
 Unto their issue." 
 
 On the words "And kiss dead Caesar's wounds," the right hand, 
 lying flat, will tremble as it points to the body. The left hand 
 will do the same (the right keeping the same position) j on the 
 
2o8 The Actor's Art. 
 
 words " dip their napkins," &c, &c, both hands will drop at the 
 end of the phrase. 
 
 " Have patience, gentle friends ; I must not read it." 
 In this sentence the hands are extended forward with the palms 
 downwards, and on the words " I must not read it " the speaker 
 will make a gentle authoritative movement with the first finger of 
 the right hand, whilst the voice assumes a tone more in 
 supplication than command. 
 
 " It is not meet, you know how Caesar loved you." 
 
 Here the hands are kept in the same position as in the above 
 sentence. 
 
 "You are not wood, you are not stones, but men." 
 
 On the word "wood" the left hand extends forward with the 
 palm up, on the word " stones " the right hand follows the same 
 action, and on the word " men " the speaker will strike his chest 
 with the right hand, and with force. The voice, at first 
 impressive and rather subdued on the first two words, will 
 become solemn on marking an emphasis on " men" the face 
 changing from contempt to sublimity. After a pause, he 
 
 continues : 
 
 "And being men, hearing the will of Caesar, 
 It will inflame you." — 
 
 The voice gradually acquires force, whilst the hands tremble with 
 emotion. 
 
 " It will make you mad ! " 
 
 Here the climax is reached. Voice and actions express violent 
 sentiments ; the left hand will press the forehead with force and 
 lower itself violently, as though Antony wanted to throw his own 
 passion into the very soul of his audience. The right hand may 
 retain the same position as in the preceding words. 
 
 " 'Tis good you know not that you a,7'e his heirs." 
 
 This is said with a sort of pacifying voice, whilst the right hand 
 and first finger point to the public on the word "you." 
 
 "For if you should, oh, what would come of it ! " 
 
The Actor's Art. 209 
 
 The word "should" is uttered with force, and the left hand is 
 suddenly raised high, with the palm facing the audience, whilst 
 the end of the sentence is said with a subdued threatening tone — 
 the face assuming a fatal expression, and the eyes shutting as 
 though avoiding the sight of the terrible consequences. 
 
 Antony, who uses all the artifices and resources of a con- 
 summate orator, makes a long pause in order to excite the eager 
 curiosity of the people to see the will, and also pretends to resist 
 their request to show it until they have worked themselves into 
 frantic excitement. Then, with authoritative tone, gestures, and 
 looks, he says : 
 
 " Will you be patient ? will you stay awhile ? " 
 He then proceeds, with a feigned penitent tone : 
 
 " I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it ! 
 I fear I wrong the honourable men 
 Whose daggers have stabbed Caesar ; I do fear it ! " 
 
 The first line is said with affected pathos, the hands pointing in 
 the direction they have taken in leaving the stage. 
 
 "Whose daggers" (one hand drops) "have stabbed Caesar," 
 (the other points to the body, the face looking down upon it with 
 intense sorrow, whilst the voice becomes solemn and impressive). 
 " I do fear it " is said slowly, with an expression of revengeful 
 sarcasm. 
 
 Having thus led the people to an almost complete revulsion 
 of sentiments, Antony feels the time has come to appeal more 
 directly to their tender feelings, which he skilfully does before 
 showing the will which he knows must be the culminating 
 argument against Caesar's murderers. 
 
 " You will compel me, then, to read the will ?" 
 
 This question is asked as if Antony yielded only to the pressure 
 put upon him by the people. 
 
 " Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, 
 And let me show you him that made the will." 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 On the word " him " the hands are extended towards the body, 
 the voice being raised with great pathos. 
 
 " Shall I descend ?'and will you give me leave?" 
 At the bidding of the people Antony descends among them ; 
 and being closely surrounded by the mob, whilst he directs his 
 steps towards the hearse he exclaims with imploring accents : 
 
 " Nay, press not so upon me ; stand far off." 
 Having come up to the body he prepares his effect by a skilful 
 gradation, first recalling to the memory of the people the victory 
 over the Nervii, pointing out to them the very mantle Caesar 
 wore for the first time on that day ; then showing them the rents 
 made by the murderers' daggers, and the blood that covers it ; 
 and, lastly, he uncovers the body, which they are now ready to 
 mourn and weep over : 
 
 " If you have tears, prepare to shed them now — 
 You all do know this mantle." 
 
 Antony points to it with both hands, looking all round the 
 assembly in order to render his words more impressive and to 
 engross their full attention : 
 " I remember 
 The first time ever Caesar put it on." 
 
 This is said with sorrowful expression, both hands dropping to 
 the sides, the face looking at Caesar, the head nodding in grief : 
 " 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, 
 That day he overcame the Nervii." 
 
 Then Antony raises his head with pride — his voice becomes 
 animated : 
 
 M Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through ; 
 See what a rent the envious Casca made ! " 
 
 He points to the different places with suppressed anger — his 
 looks are terrible, his voice is the cry of passion : 
 
 "Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ; 
 
 And, as he pluck'd the cursed steel away, 
 
 Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it, 
 
 As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd 
 
 If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no." 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 This sentence is delivered with passionate rapidity, the voice 
 
 increasing in power and reaching its climax on the w r ord 
 
 " resolved," modulating again towards a tone of doubt on the last 
 
 line. On the word " mark " both hands point trembling to the 
 
 wound, whilst Antony turns to the people with a look of terrible 
 
 anger : 
 
 " For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel." 
 
 This is said with a desponding accent and expression, suggestive 
 
 at the same time of Caesar's greatness of heart and Brutus's 
 
 ingratitude. 
 
 "Judge, oh, you gods, how dearly Caesar AwW him." 
 
 Here Antony might kneel by Caesar's body, appealing to the 
 
 gods both with arms and face. 
 
 "This was the most unkindest cut of all ; 
 For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 
 Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms, 
 Quite vanquished him — then burst his mighty heart ; 
 And in his mantle muffling up his face, 
 Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 
 Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell." 
 
 During this sentence Antony's voice struggles with emotion. 
 Tears flow from his eyes, his hands touch the wounds with 
 tenderness, he leans over his beloved friend, and on the last few 
 words he looks up to heaven, showing to his hearers the agony of 
 his soul : 
 
 " Oh ! what a fall was there, my countrymen ; 
 Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 
 Whilst bloody treason flourished over us." 
 
 These words are uttered with great persuasion, the grieved soul 
 of Antony giving way to intense sorrow, as though the destiny of 
 a great nation had been crushed by the death of its ruler. 
 " Oh, now you weep, and I perceive you feel 
 The dint of pity." 
 
 Antony gets up again, his arms extended towards his overcome 
 people : 
 
 " These are gracious drops, 
 
 Kind souls, what ! weep you, when you but behold 
 
 Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? " 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Antony turns from one to the other, addressing them tenderly 
 with tears in his own eyes, extending his palms to them as in 
 
 gratitude : 
 
 " Look you here, 
 Here is himself ] marr'd, as you see, with traitors." 
 
 In saying this Antony removes the mantle from the body, and, 
 dropping it at the foot of the corpse, hides his face in his hands, 
 sobbing at the infinite mournfulness of the sight. 
 
 " Stay, countrymen ! " 
 
 Here Antony uncovers his face, and spreading his arms right and 
 left as in warm supplication, he utters the following sentence : 
 
 M Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
 To such a sudden flood of mutiny ; 
 They that have done this deed are honourable" 
 
 This last line is said with a suppressed tone of voice, the action 
 of the left hand and the angry looks pointing to the body, the 
 right hand having dropped; whilst on the word "honourable" a 
 forced smile full of a terrible sneer overspreads the face, both 
 hands spreading in assent, the movement of the head expressing 
 the same idea. 
 
 " What private griefs they have, alas ! I know not, 
 That made them do it, — they are wise and honourable." 
 
 On the words " alas ! I know not " the right hand moves as if in 
 the act of rejecting, whilst the left arm drops of its own weight ; 
 and on the words " that made them do it " the right arm drops 
 heavily, the head turning towards the body, shaking slowly, and 
 the face and voice assume a solemn expression. 
 
 After a long pause Antony says, as if waking from a terrible 
 dream, and with a slow and unbelieving tone : 
 
 " They are wise," &c. 
 
 Raising his voice suddenly, and with an intonation that challenges 
 the truth of his very words, he exclaims : 
 
 "And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you." 
 
The Actor's Art. 213 
 
 The following lines are declaimed with modest, persuasive 
 accents. As a contrast to the latter part of his " oration " 
 Antony pretends to reverence Brutus and others and humbles 
 himself before them, but gradually insinuates fury and revenge 
 into the hearts of his listeners ; and the more he seems to laud 
 their " honour " and " wisdom," the more he exposes their 
 villany and cowardice. The actions suitable to the next ten 
 lines are those of offering the facts to the people, pointing to the 
 body on the words "to speak of him," but on the words "to 
 stir men's blood " the right hand, with the fist closed, strikes the 
 heart with force, whilst the teeth are clenched, the face is fierce, 
 and the voice trembles with concentrated passion : 
 
 " Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 
 And bid them speak for me." 
 
 This is said with tears in the eyes and voice, the left hand first 
 
 pointing to the corpse, and afterwards both hands clasping each 
 
 other, as we do in the paroxysm of our passions. The next 
 
 sentence, 
 
 " But were I Brutus," &c, &c, 
 
 is declaimed with sudden force and passion, the eyes full of fire 
 and revenge, the actions vigorous and telling. The right arm 
 strikes the chest on the words " there were an Antony," the left 
 hand is extended trembling towards the body on the words " and 
 put a tongue in every wound of Caesar ; " whilst on the words 
 "that should move the stones," &c, &c, the hands meet above 
 the head and are suddenly spread on each side, whilst the face 
 assumes such an expression as would, indeed, turn men's hearts 
 into a furnace of devouring fire. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE ACTIONS IN SINGING. 
 
 THE JEWELS SONG, FROM GOUNOD S "FAUST." 
 
 THE difficulty in combining singing and acting is to 
 harmonise the action with the words and the music. The 
 constant repetition of the same sentiments and phrases, found in 
 passages, concerted pieces, &c, the long notes extending over 
 several beats or bars, often puzzle the singer to know what to do 
 in order to be calm without being cold, and effective without any 
 exuberance of action. Too great a demonstrativeness in acting 
 spoils the effect of the voice and music, as the attention of the 
 public is drawn in another direction. 
 
 In the buffo or brilliant style, such as the part of Geronimo in 
 " Matrimonio Segreto," or of Figaro in " The Barber of Seville," 
 the singer must be a thorough actor, as he has to depend as much 
 on rapid and clear enunciation of words and on perfect acting as 
 on the beauty of the voice — in fact, the latter enters as a 
 secondary consideration, especially in the buffo style, where 
 merriment and laughter are being constantly provoked by the 
 facetious remarks and comical gestures of the actor. On the 
 contrary, in all other styles the action must be to the music and 
 
The Actor's Art. 215 
 
 the voice as a frame is to a picture ; it must ornament, but not 
 overpower it. In analysing the Jewels Song in Gounod's "Faust" 
 I shall endeavour to describe, as far as words permit, the action 
 and attitudes suitable to the different sentiments. 
 
 As Marguerite appears on the stage her walk is slow, her eyes 
 are cast down, her arms hang listless at her sides, her general 
 appearance being that of sadness. After advancing towards the 
 public she lifts up her eyes, and pauses to say: 
 
 " I wish I could but know who was he that addressed me — if he is 
 noble, or, at least, what his name is." 
 
 Whilst saying the last four words she walks slowly to the left, and 
 sits down close to her spinning-wheel. 
 
 During the first five bars of the A minor melody, she works 
 the treadle of her wheel with her foot, whilst her hands are 
 occupied in twisting the flaxen thread and her head and figure 
 gracefully bend over the work. The same attitude and action 
 continue whilst she sings : 
 
 " O'er the sea in Thule of old, reigned a king who was true-hearted." 
 Suddenly she stops working, and looking up with an expression 
 of sadness, says : 
 
 11 He was so gentle in his bearing : his voice was so kind " — 
 referring, of course, to Faust. Having dismissed this thought, 
 she resumes her singing and working. After the next twenty 
 bars the same thought crosses her imagination ; again she stops 
 treading her wheel, and says : 
 
 M I knew not what to answer, and blushed like any child." 
 In the next thirteen bars which end the ditty she continues with 
 the same occupation, singing whilst she twists her thread. As 
 soon as she has done working, her imagination wanders back to 
 the thought of Faust, and she says : 
 
 '* 'Tis but a lord who has so brave a mien ; so tender all the while." 
 During this phrase she gets up, and, whilst slowly advancing to 
 the middle of the stage, in the direction of her cottage, she 
 exclaims : 
 
 " No more ; 'tis idle dreaming." 
 
216 The Actor's Art. 
 
 She stays her course, and then, advancing towards the public, 
 sings : 
 
 "Dear Valentine, may Heaven bless thee ! and bring thee home again." 
 
 During these words her eyes are raised to heaven, the two hands 
 
 following the same direction ; and as she says " I am left here so 
 
 lonely" the hands gradually fall back to their former position, 
 
 the eyes are lowered, and the walk towards the cottage is sadly 
 
 resumed. As she nears the door she is agreeably surprised 
 
 to see a bunch of flowers left on the steps by Siebel, her youthful 
 
 admirer. 
 
 " Ah ! flowers laid there, no doubt, by Siebel." 
 
 She takes up the flowers, and, advancing again towards the 
 
 public, says : 
 
 "Poor faithful boy!" 
 
 She sees in them a mark of attention, a token of affection, which 
 causes in her a gentle sentiment of gratitude. Whilst playfully 
 handling her flowers she turns back towards her cottage, and 
 as she is on the point of resuming her quiet walk, her eyes 
 suddenly catch sight of the rich casket put by Mephistopheles 
 close to where the flowers were. She then exclaims : 
 
 "What is this?" 
 
 Here we have a kind of surprise very different from the first. 
 Marguerite's feelings at the sight of the flowers are agreeable, 
 but not novel. Probably Siebel has surprised her in the same 
 way many a time before. But the sight of the casket is altogether 
 unexpected. Her astonishment is almost rapturous, her eagerness 
 to seize the object is intense, and yet she has doubts and fears. 
 Here the singer will do well to pause for a moment and observe 
 the gradations that take place between these different senti- 
 ments, namely : — 
 
 I. Astonishment - - At the sight of the casket. 
 II. Eagerness - - - Desire to take it. 
 III. Doubt - Shall she take it ? 
 
The Actor's Art. 217 
 
 The action suitable to each of these sentiments would be 
 
 thus : 
 
 " What do I see there ? " 
 
 She stops suddenly, and drops the bunch of flowers. She takes a 
 few quick steps in the direction of the casket, and, after turning 
 towards the public, extends her left hand towards the coveted 
 object ; but she withdraws her hand immediately, saying : 
 
 "And by whom can the casket have been left?" 
 
 which she says to the public, the right hand meantime extending 
 towards the spectators, as though emphasising the question. The 
 attraction is great. She looks eagerly at the beautiful casket, and 
 yet she is afraid of it ; for she says : 
 
 " I dare not touch it; though the key is laid beside it, will it open ?" 
 
 Finally her eagerness to see the contents overrules her fear, and 
 after saying 
 
 " Why not ? I may open, at least, since to look will harm no one." 
 
 Marguerite deliberately seizes the casket and the stool or garden 
 chair on which it is placed, and carries it in front of the stage, 
 kneeling down before it as she begins to bring the jewels out. 
 Let the artiste give herself full time in order to develop with due 
 effect the gradations that take place between the first moment 
 of surprise and the instant she seizes hold of the casket. 
 
 As soon as she has opened the box, she clasps her hands with 
 innocent joy and exclaims : 
 
 " Oh, heaven ! what gems with magic glare deceive my eyes." 
 
 On saying this she turns to the public (remaining all the while in 
 her kneeling position), and expresses by her face the rapture of 
 her soul ; and, whilst retaining the same position, she sings : 
 
 " Oh, never in my life did I dream of aught so lovely ! " 
 
 During the next three bars she anxiously looks round, to see if 
 she is not watched, and, taking the different jewels in her hands, 
 says : 
 
 " If I dared but for a moment to try these earrings so splendid." 
 
218 The Actor's Art. 
 
 Here Marguerite shows by the eagerness of her actions and 
 features her increasing desire, and yet her countenance is not 
 quite free from a lingering sentiment of fear. Having said this 
 last phrase to the public she turns again towards the casket, and, 
 seeing at the bottom of it a looking-glass, she sings : 
 
 "Ah ! and here by chance, at the bottom of the casket, is a glass." 
 
 In saying this she ceases touching the jewellery, and expresses 
 her joyous astonishment by stretching her hands towards the 
 glass ; and again clasping them on her bosom (the action of both 
 hands being symmetrical), she says to the public : 
 
 " Who could resist it longer? Who could resist it longer? " 
 
 the repetition of this last phrase being accompanied by the 
 turning of the head only towards the casket, the hands remaining 
 in the same position. During the next seven bars she takes the 
 jewels out of the box, and, exposing them before the public, 
 admires them one after another. This by-play will continue for 
 the next ten or twelve bars, when Marguerite will put on the 
 earrings ; and whilst looking at herself in the glass, with the 
 pleasure, grace and innocence of a young girl, she says : 
 
 " Is it I ? Come, reply ! Mirror, mirror, tell me truly ! No, no ! 'tis 
 not I ! No ; surely enchantment is o'er me ! " 
 
 In saying this she shakes her head, as if doubting her own 
 identity. 
 
 " High-born maiden I must be, high-born maiden I must be. This is 
 not I, this is not I ; but a noble and king shall pay homage before me." 
 
 Here Marguerite gets up, and more as an imitation of what she 
 fancies than the expression of what she really feels, she walks to 
 and fro, assuming a mock dignity, which is extremely pleasing 
 and graceful. 
 
 " Ah ! might it only be, he could my beauty see, now as a royal lady, he 
 would, indeed, adore me." 
 
 During this phrase, which extends over seventeen bars, 
 Marguerite's feelings are mixed with a tinge of sentimental 
 humour, which contrasts with the exuberance of her joy — her 
 
The Actor's Art. 219 
 
 heart speaks as she alludes to Faust, who, she thinks, would 
 love her if he saw her thus adorned. The actress must not fall 
 into a very common error, which is to declaim the words, 
 
 "As a royal lady he would, indeed adore me," 
 
 with great declamatory force. She must not forget for a single 
 instant that Marguerite is an innocent loving girl, not a Medea or 
 a Lady Macbeth. 
 
 During the next ten bars played by the orchestra, she resumes 
 her position before the casket, and says : 
 
 " There are more ready to adorn me, None is here to spy — " 
 
 (She throws a furtive glance round) 
 
 "The necklace, the bracelet white, a string of pearls." 
 
 (These she puts on with marked delight.) 
 
 The remainder of the song, being a repetition of the same 
 sentiments, must be treated throughout in the way that we have 
 hitherto described, avoiding, in the last bar, especially, any aiming 
 at effect, by attitudes and action incompatible with the simple 
 and graceful manner of Marguerite. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ANALYSIS OF BASILIO'S SONG IN THE 
 "NOZZE DI FIGARO." 
 
 THE analysis of this scene shows us that prudence is its 
 fundamental moral. It is engrossed by figurative senti- 
 ments and metaphorical actions. In the recitation or dialogue 
 that precedes the song, the following conversation takes place : — 
 
 Bartolo — " What's all this business ? " 
 
 Basilio — "Nothing; Suzanna's caught his lordship's fancy, so she 
 has granted him a meeting, which Figaro objects to." 
 
 Bartolo — " Of course ; would you then have taken it kindly?" 
 
 Basilio — "What so many must suffer, why should he be exempt from 
 it? If he take umbrage, what great gain will be his? As 
 wags the world, friend, he who jostles the great ones, will 
 have cause soon to blubber ; twenty points in his favour 
 won't win him the rubber." 
 
 In this dialogue Bartolo's manners are in accordance with 
 his impetuous nature, short and decided, and his voice loud. 
 Basilio, on the contrary, is unctuous, hypocritical and insinuating. 
 His walk is gliding, his voice subdued, his movements cautious 
 and mysterious. He often looks round to see if he is watched. 
 Being well penetrated with this sentiment of suspicion, the singer 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 will be able to render this song with appropriate action, such as 
 one might fancy in such a man. The gestures must be few, 
 moderate in character, and expressive. This result can be 
 obtained by keeping the elbows pretty close to the body; the 
 hands moving above the waist, and kept rather close to the chest. 
 In this position an infinite variety of action can be obtained, 
 without being too demonstrative — but quite expressive enough, 
 especially if the face is brought into active play. The sentiment 
 throughout the song, bearing on a humorous sense of warning, 
 and devoid of any passion ; the movements need no gradations, 
 therefore can be symmetrical ; the figurative way in which Basilio 
 illustrates the advantage of being humble before superior power is 
 ludicrous, and can only be rendered by ludicrous action. In the 
 fifteenth bar, when he says : 
 
 " Finding honour of profit sterile, 
 From my head she chased the whim." 
 
 The action appropriate to this phrase would be to shake the first 
 finger, as being the corroborative movement of an accomplished 
 fact. 
 
 " Near a cottage, poor and prim, 
 She my footsteps led one morning." 
 
 Here the eyes and the first finger of the hand will follow the 
 direction of the cottage, the body leaning slightly forward towards 
 the same point. 
 
 " Something she caused to tumble, those 
 Neglected walls adorning : 
 'Twas a donkey's hide when near it." — 
 
 The first part of this phrase will be accompanied by a mysterious 
 look and a gesture of indecision ; whilst the second part, which 
 dispels all doubt, will be accompanied by an expression of joyful 
 astonishment ; the hands and arms opening symmetrically and at a 
 good distance from the body. 
 
 " Take it, son — said she, and wear it ; 
 Then she fled away and left me there." 
 
The Actor's Art. 
 
 Here a quick movement will indicate the act of giving something 
 
 away. 
 
 " Mutely as I on her stood gazing." 
 
 In saying this, the singer might fold his arms on his chest, and 
 whilst singing the following phrase, 
 
 " Sudden the thunder roar'd, 
 Lightning's flash blazing ; hail, 
 Rain in torrents pour'd, 
 'Twixt helter, skelter, though 'twas a pelter," 
 
 he will divert his looks towards the skies. His arms unfolding 
 rapidly, and his hands extending upwards, will add great force to 
 this description of the storm. 
 
 " I found a shelter under 
 This ass's hide she bade me wear." 
 
 The action descriptive of this sentiment would be for Basilio to 
 cover his chest and shoulders with his arms and hands, shrinking 
 himself, as it were, under his skin to protect himself from the 
 
 rain. 
 
 " When storm and rain allay, two steps advancing, 
 Some wild beast in my way stood fiercely glancing, 
 To munch me, swallow, and crunch me ; 
 Nothing lay before me save dark despair." 
 
 To illustrate these words the face must express fear, whilst one of 
 the hands points to the place where the beast is supposed to be, 
 the body assuming a sort of crouching position. 
 
 "When from my skin the smell foully exhaling, 
 O'er the beast's appetite even prevailing, — 
 Sickened, and turned him back to his lair." 
 
 Basilio, in his descriptive fear, will cross both hands flat on his 
 chest as though to protect it, and will preserve a motionless 
 attitude until the beast is supposed to have retired. 
 
 " From this adventure I gained this instruction, 
 Tempests and outrages, e'en threatened destruction, 
 Hurt not, an ass's skin if you but wear." 
 
 An authoritative movement of the hand will suffice to give 
 strength to this assertion. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
THE STAGE, AND 
 ACTING IN ANCIENT TIMES. 
 
 GREECE. 
 
 It is not without interest to study the different phases through 
 which the stage and its organisation have passed, as well as the 
 remarkable changes which have taken place in the social position of 
 its votaries, in the different periods of history. Since the first germs 
 of civilisation have sprung from the East, we must go back as far as 
 the Greeks to reach the source whence the various arts, music, sculp- 
 ture, tragedy, andcomedy, diffused themselves over the world, spread- 
 ing the taste and love of the beautiful, with imperishable effects. To 
 the Greeks we owe the first idea of festivities systematically arranged 
 in the form of public performances, as well as the construction of 
 theatres. The celebration, of these festivities, was attended with 
 very large expenditure, since they took place in immense theatres, 
 capable, we are told, of holding thirty thousand spectators ; large 
 sums of money being also expended upon competitions, comprising 
 music, the plastic arts, poetry, with choruses and dithyrambic and 
 rhapsodic recitations. These emulative gatherings or solemnities, 
 in which all the citizens participated, were held in honour of 
 the gods j therefore, being religious institutions, they gave a taste 
 
226 Appendix. 
 
 for art and poetry, and helped to spread those noble sentiments 
 which afterwards developed in the Grecian tragedies. It was not 
 until these solemnities had lost their primary religious character, 
 that abuses led to the ruin of the state. Instead of offering 
 sacrifice to the gods, the people began to squander their means in 
 luxury, and indulged in endless festivities. Instead of employing 
 their resources in carrying on their wars and strengthening their 
 fleet, they lavished their wealth on bacchanalian revelry and 
 pomp. 
 
 The historical origin of the drama, especially in a country 
 endowed with a sunny and genial climate, where the imagination 
 of the people must have been very vivid, cannot be assigned to a 
 definite period. We can only trace it from the age of history, 
 and assign its cause to the natural tendency of the people, especi- 
 ally in those countries, to combine poetry with worship. This 
 sentiment led them to represent the deities in the shape of their 
 own work. Hence may be deduced the origin of all arts, — painting, 
 sculpture, architecture, and music, — enlisted in the service of 
 prayer. The love of personification being thus inspired, the 
 inhabitants of Southern Europe, especially, soon began to give 
 the human form to the objects of their adoration, and afterwards 
 gave to each a dwelling-place, — hence sculpture and architecture ; 
 they sang the praises of their gods, — hence poetry and music. 
 
 As regards their dances we may attribute these ceremonies to 
 the same cause. It was no doubt the most forcible and impressive 
 manner in which they could illustrate the power or grandeur of 
 their gods. In fact mimic dances in these early ages, yet 
 unfashioned by culture, expressed their most intense passions, — 
 hence the beginning of drama. Thus dramatic art owes its origin 
 to religious rites. We see that it prospered, as well as other arts, 
 mostly in those countries where idolatry and polytheism have 
 prevailed. The Hindu drama and the mysteries of the Middle 
 Ages are supposed to have had a similar origin. 
 
 That this exalted idea of the Deity prevailed among the ancient 
 Grecian communities cannot be denied. The Athenians were a 
 race susceptible of ideal sentiments, loving the beautiful and the 
 
Appendix. 227 
 
 divine. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that a people, so 
 thoroughly impressed with the traditions of ancestral heroes, 
 should consecrate all that genius could produce, in the shape of 
 art or industry to their gods. All their theatrical performances 
 were, therefore, constituent parts of their religious festivals. This 
 spirit of religion has always been preserved amongst Grecian 
 dramatists, even to the times of Aristophanes, 411 B.C.; Anti- 
 phanes, 404 B.C. ; Sophocles, 405 B.C. These dramas, which 
 greatly contributed to the amusement and instruction of the 
 people, were at the same time a sacrifice to the Deity. What we 
 have now to see is, how these early festivities gave rise to successive 
 dramatic performances, such as appear in the more perfect dramas 
 and tragedies of ^Eschylus, born 525 B.C. 
 
 The early tragedies were composed of two very distinct parts 
 or modes of composition. The first, a series of choral songs, — 
 c/ioros, a word, the original meaning and derivation are somewhat 
 uncertain ; according to Homer it means a troop of dancers. 
 The second, dialogues. It is supposed that the choruses had their 
 origin among the Dorians. The choruses were performed at religious 
 festivities or celebrations, when the whole population of a city 
 met to offer up thanksgivings to their guardian gods ; they consisted 
 of hymns being sung whilst dances were performed in the public 
 places. The Agoma at Sparta was called choros, which would lead 
 to believe that the words kora and komos would be derived from 
 such places being employed for dancing. These religious 
 ceremonies were held in honour of Apollo ; so in the Homeric 
 hymn to the Pythian Apollo a company of goddesses dance, 
 while the muses sing and Apollo plays the cithara or lyre. These 
 were first practised in the Doric states, and music as well as 
 dancing became part of the public education, — among the 
 Spartans especially. Various causes contributed to this, namely, 
 their universal employment in the worship of Apollo, — women 
 taking part in the choral performances. Many dances had a 
 gymnastic character imparted to them, and were employed as a 
 mode of training to martial exercises. Whether these war-dances 
 originated first among the Dorians is doubtful, as it appears that 
 
228 
 
 Appendix. 
 
 the Curetes in Crete cultivated the war-dances in honour of Zeus 
 quite as early as the Dorians practised them in honour of Apollo. 
 However, as it appears that music and dancing were connected 
 with the religious, and the political and military organisation of 
 the Dorians, we might be led to believe that the introduction of 
 choral poetry into Greece, and the first introduction of instru- 
 mental music, are due to them. — Apollo was the inventor of the 
 lyre. — As a proof of this we may notice that the Doric dialect is 
 preserved in the lyric poetry of the other Grecian tribes, although 
 
 REHEARSAL OF A GREEK COMEDY. 
 
 there had been other choral-poetry which was not Doric, such as 
 several Lesbian lyric poems, which appear to have had a choral 
 character. 
 
 The Spartans had three principal dances, the pyrrhic, the 
 gymnopaedic style, and the hyporchematic.* In all three a certain 
 amount of mimetic character was displayed, and in the last men- 
 
 * Hyporcheme, or choral hymn to Apollo ; it was of a lively character, 
 accompanied with music and pantomimic action. 
 
Appendix. 229 
 
 tioned, especially, the pyrrhic or war dance constituted a portion of 
 the gymnastic and martial training. At the gymnopaedia large 
 choruses of men and boys appeared, in which many citizens would 
 take part. It was in the hyporchematic dances that the chorus both 
 sang and danced. The instrument commonly used in connection 
 with the Doric choral poetry was the cithara or lyre. In the 
 pyrrhic dance the flute was employed, and was substituted for the 
 cithara, probably on account of its more piercing tone.* These 
 three dances certainly had their representative in the dramatic 
 poetry of later ages. Athenaeus tells us " there are three dances 
 in scenic poetry, the tragic, the comic, and the satyric ; and 
 likewise three in lyric poetry, the pyrrhic, the gymnopaedic, 
 and the hyporchematic. The pyrrhic corresponds to the satyric, 
 for they are both rapid j the pyrrhic is considered a military 
 dance, for the dancers are boys in armour, and swiftness is 
 needed in war for pursuit and flight. The gymnopaedic is 
 similar to the tragic dance which is called emmeleia; a stately 
 tragic measure. Both these dances are conspicuously grave and 
 solemn. The hyporchematic coincides in its peculiarities with 
 the comic dance ; they are both full of merriment." 
 
 The Dorians who had till then worshipped Apollo as their 
 national deity, as the sun-god, and therefore the chief of a 
 system of elementary religion, adopted Bacchus as the bright and 
 merry god, — this deity they borrowed from their conquered 
 neighbours, — the superintendent of the orphic and black rites, 
 the god of life, also the god of death, as of light. His worship 
 was accompanied by many different kinds of mimicry. Either his 
 sufferings were represented with appropriate wailing accompani- 
 ment, or his rites were celebrated with suitable liveliness, as the 
 god of wine, the giver of life. Thus the religion of Bacchus made 
 its way in Greece, and was speedily incorporated with that of the 
 sun-god. This mixed religion became prevalent throughout 
 Greece. The Dorians, then, having a religion with two deities, 
 corresponding, in many respects, with those objects of elementary 
 worship which they found in most of the countries they subdued, 
 
230 Appendix. 
 
 naturally adjusted their own religion to the similar one already 
 existing. The earliest species of choral poetry connected with 
 the worship of Bacchus w r as called the Dithyramb. This ancient 
 Bacchanalian performance, the origin of which is attributed by 
 Herodotus to Arion, seems to have been a hymn sung by 
 one or more of the komos or irregular band of revellers 
 to the music of the flute. The choruses, which ordinarily 
 consisted of fifty men or youths, danced in a ring round 
 the altar of Dionysus, — hence they were called eyelid choruses. 
 A circular or cyclic chorus was properly any one that was 
 danced in a ring round an altar, but mostly those appropri- 
 ated to the worship of Bacchus ; and dithyrambic poets were 
 understood by the term kukliodiodidaskaloi^ teachers of the 
 cyclic chorus. With the introduction of the regular choral 
 character, Arion also substituted the cithara for the flute. 
 It is supposed that he invented the tragic style, rpaytKos rpo-n-os, 
 from the fact that he introduced dithyrambs of a gloomy character, 
 having for their subject the sorrow of Dionysus, as well as the 
 gayer and more joyous song. Arion is also said to have been the 
 first to introduce into these choruses satyrs speaking in verses. 
 Lasus of Hermione gave a freer form to the dithyramb by 
 divesting it of its antistrophic character, and introducing the 
 dithyrambic style into compositions not immediately connected 
 with the worship of Dionysus ; he also introduced caustic jests. 
 As the dithyramb gradually lost its antistrophic character, it 
 became more and more mimetic or dramatic ; and as its per- 
 formances required an increased amount of skill, dithyrambs came 
 to be performed by educated private persons. As to the chorus 
 it remained an easy matter, as wealthy men entertained poets 
 and musicians. But while the dithyramb was thus adopted by 
 the Dorians, the more primitive forms of worship still existed, — 
 namely, — the rural celebration of the vintage. From this sprung 
 the comedy of the Greeks ; whilst tragedy sprang, as we have 
 already shown, from the more solemn celebrations of the 
 dithyramb. What was usually meant by the word — " tragic style " 
 — may be understood to have been a variation of the dithyramb, 
 
Appendix. 231 
 
 resembling the lyrical tragedy, which is considered an inter- 
 mediate step between the dithyramb and the regular tragedy. 
 The lyric drama, although it had yet no actors, still, possessed a 
 dramatic element, in so far as there were certain extempore 
 effusions of the coryphaei, who related short fables in pantomimic 
 gesture or language. The term coryphaei or exarchi was applied 
 to the best dancers in a chorus. The exarchus was either the 
 best dancer and mimic, or the musician who accompanied the 
 song on an instrument, — exarchus means " the leader." The 
 exarchus in the dithyramb recited the ode in the first person, and 
 the chorus danced round the flaming altar. It is therefore 
 probable that the tragic dialogue had its origin in the speeches of 
 the leaders in the dithyrambic chorus. Aristotle no doubt spoke 
 of a near approach to theatrical action, when he states that the 
 assumption of a mimetic character was the reason why the 
 dithyramb departed from its originally antistrophic form. In 
 addition to the choruses and the lyric poetry, attributed to the 
 Dorians, another kind of entertainment had existed in Greece 
 from the earliest times, and was considered as peculiar to the 
 Ionian race. This was the recitation of poems by wandering 
 minstrels called rhapsodies, — paif/aiSoi, — bards who recited epic 
 poems; probably derived from pa/3Sos — branch, — as the rhapsodists 
 chanted in slow recitation, holding a staff in the right hand, 
 portions of the national epic poetry, which took its rise in the 
 Ionian States. These rhapsodists recited in iambic verses. 
 These verses are attributed to Simonides of Amorgus, who is 
 supposed to have been the first iambic poet (693 B.C.), and are 
 said by Aristotle to derive their names from their being originally 
 used for purposes of satire. The word ia/x/3i(eii; was derived 
 • from ia^/3o9, — an iambus — a metrical foot, consisting of a short 
 and a long syllable, and meant to satirise, — which signification 
 sprang probably from the frequent use of that species of verse by 
 Archilochus for the purpose of invective. 
 
 There is every probability that the recitation of these poems 
 was a near approach to theatrical declamation, especially as they 
 had to be committed to memory, for the means of reproducing 
 
232 Appendix. 
 
 Lord Macaulay, speaking of the opportunities enjoyed by'the 
 Athenian for mental culture, says : — " He heard the rhapsodist at 
 the corner of the street, reciting the death of Argus or the shield 
 of Achilles." 
 
 The rhapsod, having many occasions to meet in numbers, 
 soon turned their calling into a sort of trade, and accepted 
 engagements to recite certain parts on different solemnities. This 
 they did with great emulation ; and as they sometimes had whole 
 poems from Homer to recite together, each assumed a separate 
 part, which they delivered no doubt with the action of theatrical 
 players. 
 
 It is certain that the Athenians took these old iambic poems as 
 models for the dialogues of their tragedies. They adopted the 
 same metre, and often reproduced the very same ideas. The 
 rhapsodist may be considered as the forerunner of the actor, and 
 was indeed almost an actor himself. 
 
 It is therefore evident that the union of the Dorian lyric 
 tragedy, and chorus, without actors, and the subsequent tragedy 
 of the Athenian with its rhapsodies, developed in time into the 
 complete and perfect Attic drama. 
 
 Thespis, who is said to be the inventor of the Grecian tragedy, 
 was born at Icarius (a Diacrian deme or district), the part of the 
 ^Egean between the Cyclades and Caria, where Icarus son of 
 Daedalus, was said to have been drowned. Icarius is also said to 
 have been the seat of the religion of Bacchus, and the origin of 
 the Athenian tragedy and comedy has been referred to the 
 dramatic festivals of the place. Little is known of Thespis. It 
 is supposed, however, that he introduced some alterations into the 
 dances of the chorus. He also introduced an actor into the 
 Dionysian chorus for the sake of variety. As he was an Icarian 
 he worshipped Bacchus ; he probably was also a rhapsodist, and 
 introduced rhapsodical recitations into the Dionysian rites. He 
 is supposed to have invented a compound of herbs to colour the 
 face, and also to have constructed a mask to enable the actor — 
 probably himself — to sustain several characters. To Thespis 
 therefore we are indebted for the further union of the Bacchus 
 
Appendix. 233 
 
 Now if we cast a retrospective glance, we find that Dionysus was 
 worshipped by the people of Attica, who formed the tribe of the 
 ^Egicores or goat-herds. These goat-herds were conquered by 
 the Ionians, who were worshippers of Bacchus, and were rhapso- 
 dists ; and in order to be on an equality with their conquerors, 
 they — in later times — amalgamated their religion with that of the 
 Ionians, and became worshippers of Bacchus. Thus we find the 
 first signs of union between the Dionysian and Bacchic religion, 
 which union was further consolidated by Thespis, who made 
 another important change, by causing the actor or rhapsodist to 
 address his speech to the chorus, which carried on with him 
 through the coryphaeus a sort of dialogue. Whilst the chorus 
 stood on the steps of the altar of Bacchus, he was placed on an 
 elevation or table. This may almost be considered as a precursor 
 of the stage, since we find that in later times there was always an 
 open space between the thymele, or altar of Bacchus, and the 
 elevated platform whence the actor addressed the public. 
 
 Pisistratus, who was the head of the democratical faction, and 
 contemporary with Thespis, greatly encouraged the rhapsodists, 
 and is said to have contributed towards arranging the rhapsodies 
 in their natural and poetic sequence. It is in his time that the 
 union of the rhapsody with the cyclic chorus took place. 
 
 Now whether, according to some, the name of Thespis 
 was simply derived from the common epithet of the Homeric 
 minstrel, and implies nothing more in its connection with the 
 history of the drama, it is not in our province to determine ; 
 our purpose being simply to show the origin and the develop- 
 ment of the drama, without extending our remarks to historical 
 scrutiny, which would convert this chapter into volumes. To 
 conclude this Thespian period, we may add that the dithyrambic 
 contests took place in a temple built by Pisistratus, in which the 
 victorious choregi used to offer up their sacrifices, which became 
 afterwards a practice between the victors and the tragic chorus. 
 
 We have already stated that the comedy of the Greeks arose 
 from the phallic processions, as tragedy originated in the dithy- 
 ramb. How its progress advanced from its primitive rude state to 
 
234 Appendix. 
 
 perfection is difficult to settle, yet its origin may be traced in 
 Megara, if we consider that Susarion was the earliest comic 
 poet, and a native of Tripodiscus in Megara. Ancient writers 
 often allude to the coarse humour of the Megarians, and their 
 natural inclination towards the ludicrous. Satiric drama may 
 be considered as the stepping-stone from tragedy to comedy, and 
 is due to the discontent of the people who complained of the 
 serious character of the dramatic exhibitions, and missed the 
 merriment of the country satyrs. This induced Pratinas of 
 Philius, — a contemporary of ^Eschylus, to write dramas, which, 
 although in the same form as the tragedy, yet had choruses 
 composed of satyrs, and the dances were pyrrhic instead of 
 gymnopaedic. Whatever may have been the origin of the Greek 
 comedy, it is evident that it was produced at a country festival in 
 celebration of Bacchus, on w T hich occasions the country people 
 went from place to place in carts, singing songs to their god, also 
 to Phales his comrade, and indulging in jests and speeches of an 
 abusive and satirical type. The word comedy, kco/xos, signifies a 
 revel or orgie after supper. It also applied to revellers, who after a 
 banquet, used to parade the streets at night with torches in their 
 hands. This signification can be traced in ^Eschylus' "Agamem- 
 non," where he says that the Furies, although they had drunk their 
 fill of human blood in the house of Pelopidae, obstinately stuck to 
 the house instead of departing like ko/xo>?. These vintage cere- 
 monies, being of the coarsest kind, formed the most striking part 
 of the rural exhibitions ; yet they found their way to Athens when 
 comedy was established at the time of Pericles, as a means used 
 by the demagogues for attacking, with safety to themselves, their 
 political opponents. Thus, public interest having been drawn in 
 this direction, it is supposed that the comic chorus began to stain 
 their faces with the lees of wine as a substitute for masks. We 
 see therefore that tragedy and comedy had a different origin. 
 Comedy may be described as a generic cause for dramatic per- 
 formances w T hich tends to excite laughter ; while tragedy is an 
 imitation of the noblest life, or of the actions of the gods and 
 heroes. Aristotle says of tragedy, that, by the production of pity 
 
Appendix. 235 
 
 and terror it effects the purgation of such passions.* Greek 
 comedy is divided into two kinds, — the old comedy, and the 
 middle comedy. The first was, as we have stated, the successful 
 result of the jests of the country pasquinades, forming part of the 
 Bacchanalian ceremonies, and afterwards used as a means of 
 political sarcasm. Its essence was satire, and the object of 
 general dislike was described in the most abusive terms, and 
 represented on the stage by some one who did the most con- 
 temptible things, and who was turned into ridicule. The middle 
 comedy was an offspring of the older kind, only without a chorus; 
 its character was more literary than political ; for this we can 
 account, if we consider that the political strife had temporarily 
 ceased, since the democracy had been overthrown. The old 
 comedy might be termed caricature, the middle comedy criticism. 
 From these two kinds of comedy originated a third and later one 
 named the new comedy, which dates from the time of Alexander, 
 about a hundred years later than the old comedy. This would 
 correspond to the comic drama of the seventeenth century, which 
 if we take Charles Lamb's definition might be called the comedy 
 of manners. Having thus described the origin of comedy and 
 tragedy, we must pass on to the manner of their performance, 
 without following step by step the different changes and perfecting 
 of the methods of writing by the different Greek poets. 
 
 The genius of the Greeks showed itself in tragedy and 
 comedy ; and by reading the works of the great dramatists who 
 lived in that period, we see the progressive changes which took 
 place, and the perfecting of these tragedies which w T ere reproduced 
 in later times by the Romans, and which left after them a vacuum 
 of many ages, in the tragic and dramatic exhibitions, before a 
 fresh impetus was given to dramatic writing in Europe. 
 
 As we have already stated, the Greek theatre was the temple 
 of the god, and in its centre was the altar dedicated to the 
 
 1 For buskin'd measures move 
 Pale grief and pleasing pain, 
 And horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast." 
 
 —Gray, "The Bard." 
 
236 Appendix. 
 
 deity. It was surrounded by steps forming a semicircle, from 
 which thirty thousand people witnessed the spectacle offered in his 
 honour. The performances took place in the spring, and lasted 
 a few days, and every citizen was there from daybreak to sunset. 
 The theatrical dresses were festive robes worn in the Dionysian 
 processions. The dramas were adopted or rejected after severe 
 scrutiny, by a council appointed to decide between the rival 
 dramatists. The performances formed part of the festivals of 
 Bacchus. The Attic Dionysia appear to have taken place four 
 times a year j namely, — in the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth 
 months of the Attic year. These four exhibitions were called, — 
 
 1 st. The Country Dionysia; or, Festival of the Vintage. 
 
 2nd. The Festival of the Wine-press j or, Lensea. 
 
 3rd. The Anthesteria; or, More Ancient Festival of Bacchus. 
 
 4th. The Great Dionysia. 
 
 At the first, second, and fourth of these feasts, theatrical exhibi- 
 tions took place. The performances were conducted according 
 to their origin, namely, with the chorus and dialogue. The 
 chorus, at first composed of the w T hole population, was afterwards, 
 when arts became more cultivated, entrusted to the care of one 
 person called the choragus^ whose duty it was to provide a chorus 
 for all plays. He had to pay a teacher to train the players in the 
 songs and dances they had to perform. He was considered as the 
 religious representative of the whole people \ the whole expense 
 of the chorus was at his charge. The actors were allotted to the 
 poet ; the choragus had nothing to do with them. The 
 dramatist was provided with a chorus, and with actors, having to 
 train the latter. The poet and the choragus united their efforts 
 and competed for the prize, by a combination of the best taught 
 actors, and of the most sumptuously dressed and best trained 
 chorus. That these effects, combined, often redeemed the 
 weakness of the poem, and influenced the judges in their favour, 
 is more than probable. The choragus who exhibited the best 
 entertainment generally received a reward. The place of exhibi- 
 tion was, in the days of the perfect drama, the great stone theatre 
 
Appendix. 237 
 
 erected within the place or ground sacred to Bacchus. It was 
 commenced in the year 500 B.C., and finished about 381 B.C. 
 
 The altar of Bacchus round which the cyclian chorus 
 danced, and the stage from which the actor or exarchus 
 spoke, — took the place of the wooden table from which the earlier 
 actors addressed the chorus, and formed the two most important 
 parts of a level space situated twelve feet below the lowest 
 range of seats, enclosed partly by them and partly by the excava- 
 tions. The altar or platform stood in the middle of this space. 
 Level with the lowest seats of the amphitheatre, or forms, and on 
 the opposite side, stood the platform or stage, constructed partly 
 of wood; the foremost part, for the actor to stand upon when 
 speaking, and partly of stone. The scenery rested on this stony 
 part. The proscenium was backed and flanked by lofty stone build- 
 ings, with three entrances upon the proscenium; the chief entrance 
 being an ornamented portal, which was assigned to royalty.* 
 
 The scenery corresponded probably to the grandeur of the 
 building. The stage machinery also showed much ingenuity. 
 The gods were seen floating in the air, surrounded by clouds. 
 No doubt a small platform, suspended by means of ropes, served 
 to support and move the celestial beings. Sometimes they would 
 raise a god in the air by means of ingenious contrivance?. 
 Thunder was also imitated by using bladders full of pebbles 
 rolled over sheets of copper. There was a place over the stage 
 where the lightning was flashed through clouds. The principal 
 actors were known by the entrance through which they came on 
 the stage. 
 
 ROME. 
 
 The exhibitions first introduced in honour of the gods soon 
 almost entirely lost their religious character. During the 
 time of the later republic they had already become the surest 
 means of gaining popular favour. It is related by Dion Cassius, 
 that Augustus having addressed some reproach to Pylades on the 
 
 * See next illustrations. 
 
240 Appendix. 
 
 subject of that actor's rivalry with one of his companions, Pylades 
 did not hesitate to answer: — "Caesar, it is for your benefit that 
 the people's attention should turn towards us." These public 
 performances gained great importance, as they afforded the 
 people the only means of assembling in large numbers, and of 
 expressing their sympathies and antipathies before their sovereign. 
 The greeting with which they saluted the monarch on his first 
 entering the amphitheatre was highly valued by him, and in fact 
 by all men of high standing. 
 
 Chariot races, athletics, combats of gladiators with each other 
 or with wild beasts, formed the chief recreation of the Romans 
 for centuries. Already in the earlier times of the Roman 
 republic, in the year 364 B.C., we find public performances 
 consisting of chariot races. The exhibitions in the arena had 
 become almost part of the Roman's education. The people took 
 as passionate an interest in those spectacles as our young English- 
 men in modern games and boat races. We scarcely find in all 
 the Roman literature any expression of disapproval or horror at 
 those sanguinary displays. The discussion on the heroes of the 
 arena supplied a fertile subject of conversation even among the 
 most learned of the community. These Roman games, as they 
 were called, extended rapidly through Italy, Greece, Asia Minor, 
 and to all the oriental countries. The sports that had begun with 
 chariot races, held in large circuses, degenerated into these 
 sanguinary games, and the circus made way for the amphitheatre. 
 The first amphitheatre was built of wood by Julius Caesar, whose 
 example was soon followed throughout Spain, Gaul, and Northern 
 Africa, where almost every large town could boast of an arena, 
 frequently stained with the blood of countless victims. In Greece 
 only, where civilisation had reached a higher phase, opposition 
 was made to the introduction of gladiators ; but this objection 
 was not of long duration, as the king Antiochus Epiphanes, who 
 was the first to institute these games, encouraged them, and 
 caused them to become firmly established. This taste for games 
 of blood was, however, not so generally exhibited as in Rome, 
 and was found mostly among the lower class. The better 
 
Appendix. 241 
 
 class of people condemned the games of the arena. Plutarch 
 speaks of those games with horror and detestation. Cicero 
 mentions them in the following way : — " What pleasure is it to an 
 educated man to see a weak man torn to pieces by a wild beast of 
 enormous strength, or a beautiful animal pierced by an arrow ? " 
 It is owing to the influence of Christianity that these murderous 
 exhibitions were partly abolished in the year 326. Constantine 
 issued an edict disapproving of " these sanguinary exhibitions that 
 interfere with the calmness of peace," and ordered the work of 
 mimes to be substituted for the games of gladiators. This edict, 
 however, did not long remain in force, for we find Honorius 
 abolishing these games of the arena a.d. 404. In the East these 
 games ceased from the end of the fourth century. They were 
 afterwards revived in a modified form, and the killing of beasts 
 alone was maintained. In the eastern and western countries 
 combats of gladiators to the death continued until the sixth 
 century. In 536 Justinian ordered that wild beast combats 
 should be exhibited amongst other public entertainments. 
 Cassiodorus at the same epoch expressed his admiration at the 
 dexterity and agility with which the wild beast fighters (bestiarii) 
 avoided the attack of ferocious animals, and also at the ingenuity 
 displayed in the means used in defending themselves. Therefore 
 we see that in Rome at this epoch care was taken that the games 
 should be less sanguinary, and that bloodshed should to a certain 
 extent be avoided. 
 
 From the beginning of the empire Rome always had three 
 permanent theatres, though all the three together could not 
 contain so many spectators as the large amphitheatre. To 
 counteract the overwhelming excitement of the circus and arena, 
 the stage could only attract the masses by pandering to their low 
 tastes, offering them the bait of laughter and triviality, and lavish- 
 ing on them coarse entertainments entirely wanting in refinement. 
 Thus instead of counteracting the pernicious effects of sanguinary 
 performances, the 'theatre contributed to the demoralisation and 
 corruption of the people. The Atellan farce and the " mimus M 
 or mimic plays were the two most popular forms under the 
 
242 Appendix. 
 
 empire. The first, a sort of " Punch " comedy, which originated 
 in Campania, has remained popular even to our own days. It 
 was early established in Rome. A brief action, probably in 
 one act, was carried on by four masked actors, prototypes of 
 characters in the modern comedy of the Italian type. Pappus, 
 the dotard, corresponded to our Pantaloon ; Dorsennus, the wise 
 man, alternately a schoolmaster, an ecclesiatic, &c, corresponded 
 to the Dottore ; then there was Buccon, the bully or glutton, 
 and Maccus, the fool. 
 
 The Atellans that have reached us, although anterior to the 
 empire, make known to us the favourite subjects of this kind, 
 which no doubt remained, under the empire, the same that they 
 had been under the republic. Types of different nationalities 
 were represented, such as Campanians, Transalpine Gauls, 
 Pomatian soldiers, whose peculiar way of speaking and awkward 
 gait must have greatly diverted a city audience. Many titles of 
 these Atellans, such as "Buccon at the Gladiator's School," "Pappus 
 the Countryman," &c, show that the comic situations must have 
 been plentiful. Grotesque and obscene jests were plentifully 
 introduced. The mimic, farce-mimus, was also a characteristic 
 piece taken from ordinary life, short, and without the ordinary 
 masks. It was often given with the Atellan as an interlude or as 
 a supplement after other pieces. It is mentioned as having been 
 most popular. It is the kind of dramatic art that maintained 
 itself longest in public favour; it even survived the fall of the 
 western empire. 
 
 The subjects were much the same as the Atellan, and treated 
 more of the urban customs than those of the country, mostly of 
 the inferior classes and artisans. The caricature of foreign 
 nationalities was less marked than in the mimus. Tricks, 
 intrigues, and the chicanery of the law were the subjects most 
 frequently handled. Amorous intrigues also formed part of the 
 entertainment. In the mimus, insults and the representation of 
 plentiful cuffs and kicks administered to simpletons were con- 
 sidered fine points. The language was that in use among the 
 lowest class. The acting was of course on a par with the 
 
Appendix. 243 
 
 language, coarse and exaggerated. Buffoonery and grotesque 
 dances formed part of the performance ; there were also dances, 
 with accompaniments of flutes. The scenic arrangements were 
 very simple. The mimics performed in front of a stage divided 
 from the back by a curtain. They wore no theatrical shoes or 
 masks. They were dressed in the style of Harlequin, in a kind 
 of coat of different colours, and a cloak. Next to the principal 
 actor or hero of the piece were the fool, and the glutton or 
 parasite, easily recognised by his puffed-out cheeks, bald head, 
 and cringing demeanour. Morality was made the subject of open 
 mockery, and obscenity was paramount j hence the popularity of 
 the works. Women appeared on the stage very scantily clad. 
 Satirical allusions were often made to public affairs, and even to 
 the emperors themselves. Public and actors understood each 
 other, and the allusions made by the latter were eagerly taken up 
 by the audience. The unbridled licence introduced into this 
 kind of entertainment caused the expulsion of the mimes from 
 Italy a.d. 22. Whilst the popular throng took a vivid interest in 
 this class of performances, the classic drama could scarcely be 
 upheld by the restricted circle of learned people. The productive 
 era in tragedy and comedy, although never very great in Italy, but 
 at its best only a reproduction of the Grecian models, had 
 long vanished. The final isolated attempt of this kind was made 
 as far back as the first century of our era. The last pieces that 
 were performed were written under Claudius by L. Pomponius 
 Bassus. Whatever was composed at that time was more suited 
 to the study and private reading. The limited demand for the 
 classic pieces was fully supplied to the stage by the Grecian 
 comedies and tragedies, remodelled for more modern taste. 
 The Palliata, or new Greek comedy, as reproduced by Plautus 
 and Terence in the Roman style, and the Roman comedia togata, 
 maintained themselves in popular favour during the third, and 
 probably the fourth and even the beginning of the fifth, century. 
 The nature of these plays and their tradition required more 
 refined acting, a study of elocution, the modulating of the voice, 
 and a good stage deportment. Roscius was an eminent actor. 
 
244 Appendix. 
 
 Roman actors had a tendency towards realism. Quintilian 
 asserts that he had often seen actors leave the stage in a state of 
 great excitement after moving scenes. In declaiming, they 
 endeavoured to give dignity to the language of ordinary life. 
 Actions were arranged and rendered in accordance with the 
 character of each part. 
 
 Among the actors on the Roman stage at the time of 
 Quintilian and Juvenal, the Greeks, "those born actors," as 
 Juvenal called them, chiefly distinguished themselves ; Demetrius 
 and Stratocles were the two most celebrated. The former, 
 endowed by nature with a handsome appearance, represented the 
 noble and dignified parts. The latter, with his shrill voice and 
 slender form, was more suited to represent such characters as 
 parasites, slaves,. rogues, &c. 
 
 Tragedy was even less supported than comedy, but this neglect 
 was not without some cause if we consider the absurd way in which 
 it was represented ; strange figures stalking along on the cothurnus 
 or high padded boot, draped in long robes of all colours, 
 decked out with high wigs, and wearing a mask on their face 
 with a large opening at the mouth, which gave them the appear- 
 ance as though they would swallow the spectators, — all this 
 tended to throw contempt and ridicule on the performance. To 
 give some attraction to the tragedies, splendid scenic effects were 
 added, such as military evolutions executed by horsemen, grand 
 triumphant processions, with foreign and sumptuous dresses ; 
 chariots were introduced, and ships, white elephants, giraffes, — in 
 fact, the spectacular part of the performance was so grand, that 
 even the most educated were more attracted by it than by the 
 poet's dramatic work. The consequence was that tragedy soon 
 disappeared, and was replaced, even so far back as the second 
 century, by lyric scenes and pantomimic dances. On the Roman, 
 as well as on the Greek stage, music and dancing formed part of 
 the dramatic expositions. Two persons were engaged in the per- 
 formance of the dramatic work ; the one acted his part by means 
 of a mute dance and pantomimic actions, whilst the other, 
 standing close by him, sang the words appropriate to the gestures 
 
Appendix. 
 
 245 
 
 of his comrade. Thus all illusion was impossible, and the 
 production of a drama could only be appreciated for its intrinsic 
 merit. This disconnected performance appeared so natural to the 
 Romans, that poets of the time of Pliny invited their friends. to 
 hear their poetry recited by people gifted with a more agreeable 
 voice than their own, while the author accompanied certain words 
 of the reciter with appropriate gestures and varieties of facial 
 expression. 
 
 This separation of the elements which composed tragedy — 
 singing and dancing — diminished the already waning taste for 
 tragedy, and gave an impetus to the other two branches. The 
 
 SCENE FROM A ROMAN COMEDY. 
 
 pantomimic performances acquired a very great importance, and 
 the pantomimic action was considered of more consequence in the 
 drama than the declamation and singing. This may be explained 
 by the fact that the tragedian, who appeared fully dressed and 
 with his features concealed by a mask, could only supply the want 
 
246 Appendix. 
 
 of facial expression by the significant activity of his gestures : — 
 moreover, this kind of illustration of different passions and 
 impersonations on the part of the tragedians was thoroughly 
 appreciated by a mass of people who understood neither Latin 
 nor Greek, and no doubt contributed to the establishment of 
 pantomimes. 
 
 The mimic dances were greatly improved under Augustus, 
 and pantomimic dramas soon replaced tragedy. A single panto- 
 mimist executed several lyric solos, taking the parts of various 
 male and female characters, whilst the text relating to each part 
 was sung no longer by a single singer but by a chorus. 
 
 Distinguished poets composed texts for their ballets, and sold 
 them to the dancers. These texts generally had a mythological 
 character. Pylades introduced the innovation of a chorus instead 
 of the single singer, and also an orchestra composed of cymbals, 
 guitars, lyres, flutes, and reed pipes ; time was kept by the 
 scabillum, a sort of pedal made of two plates, attached to the foot, 
 and which knocked against each other at each stamp of the foot. 
 Two kinds of pantomimes were recognised, the one attributed to 
 Alexandrinus Bathyllus, the other to the Cicilian Pylades. The 
 former kind of pantomime was mostly extracted from satiric 
 subjects, the latter derived from tragedy. 
 
 The Grecian dance called the pyrrhic was also represented on 
 the stage. Apuleius has fully described these pyrrhic and mytho- 
 logical dances, which remind us of the modern ballets. 
 
 Diocletian was, it seems, the first who abolished the law that 
 fixed dishonour on all who had appeared on the stage during their 
 minority, and excluded them from all high offices. By the 
 Julian law, senators and all their representatives were pro- 
 hibited from marrying the sons or daughters of an actress. A 
 soldier who turned actor incurred the penalty of death. An art 
 thus branded by society was practised only by slaves, or by freed- 
 men or foreigners, — such as Greeks, Orientals, or Egyptians, 
 amongst whom the Roman prejudice did not exist. 
 
 The families of slaves in wealthy houses comprised not only 
 pantomimists, but also comedians, tragedians, and whole troops of 
 
Appendix. 247 
 
 actors. They could be transferred, by gift, from one master to 
 another. Sometimes they obtained their enfranchisement through 
 their talent, although on their emancipation they bound them- 
 selves to hold themselves at the disposal of their master whenever 
 he wanted them for himself or his friends, and to perform gratis 
 for him. This degraded condition of the actor did not, however, 
 prevent some distinguished artists from obtaining most brilliant 
 positions, and earning great fortunes by their art. Some became 
 great favourites of the emperors, and were even invested with titles. 
 
 Paris, a celebrated pantomimist, who was condemned to death 
 by Domitian, had the following epitaph composed for him by 
 Martial : — " Traveller, who wendest on this Flaminian road, pass 
 not carelessly by, before this noble monument of marble. The 
 delight of Rome, the wit of Alexandria ; art, grace, humour, joy ; 
 the ornament, the sorrow of the Roman stage ; all the goddesses 
 and gods of love, — lie buried in this tomb." This love for the 
 stage caused great emulation amongst the actors, who vied with 
 each other in the endeavour to gain public favour and to secure 
 the suffrage of patrons, and persons were distributed over the 
 theatre to applaud the actors. The rivalry between Pylades and 
 Bathyllus in the year 17 B.C. already caused great disorders in the 
 theatre, but Augustus humoured the two actors, who thus diverted 
 public attention from political affairs. 
 
 Scenes of combat and bloodshed became so frequent, that 
 Tiberius banished from Italy actors who had been the cause of 
 those troubles. Nero, on the other hand, in the year 55, with- 
 drew the pretorian cohorts who had the duty of guarding the 
 theatre, and not only allowed party strife, but himself headed one 
 of the parties, and in one of these melee fights he himself threw 
 a projectile which wounded a pretorian in the head. The 
 pantomimists, who were considered the chief instigators of these 
 disorders, were again forbidden to appear on the stage ; but in 
 106 and afterwards, without intermission, they were allowed to 
 practise their art unmolested. It was customary for many 
 pantomimists to take up the name of their celebrated predecessors, 
 or to be so called by their masters, as a mark of consideration. 
 
248 Appendix. 
 
 Thus the names of Paris, Pylades, Bathyllus, are often read of 
 in the annals of the Roman theatre. 
 
 The first Paris was a favourite of Nero, and died by the 
 torture a.d. 67 ; the second lived at Domitian's court, and was 
 known by the epithet of Paris, already mentioned by Martial; 
 the third lived in the reign of Lucius Verus ; the fourth is 
 known by a medal ; and the fifth is mentioned by Antiochus. 
 Memphius, Apolaustus (pantomimist), Theocritus (a dancer), 
 Favor Labitius, Urbicus, were all favourite names amongst the 
 actors and lyric artists, y&nilius Glapyrus figured amongst the 
 harpist-singers. 
 
 We see so far the connection between the Grecian and the 
 Roman theatre. We will now, although more briefly, trace the 
 history of the stage as it approaches our modern times. With 
 the Christian era began the reactionary influence which gradually 
 drew away the morbid taste from sanguinary displays and strife, 
 and attracted the people to more humane and Christian ideas. 
 In the end of the second century, Tertullian, one of the fathers of 
 the Church, wrote a treatise, "De Spectacidis" denouncing the lovers 
 of plays, — in which the features, hair, age, sex, sighs, laughter, are 
 all false, — as unworthy of the kingdom of God, who loves truth. 
 He quotes Lycurgus, w T ho would not tolerate the theatre in Sparta; 
 and Solon, who is reported to have said, on seeing the car of 
 Thespis, "Are you not ashamed to tell so many lies?"* The 
 Church combated on the one hand the passionate love for the 
 performance of paid Roman actors ; on the other, the indifference 
 displayed for human life in the amphitheatre, where Christians 
 often were thrown into the arena as a prey to the wild beasts. 
 Although Christianity had triumphed over the Greek gods, yet it 
 proved powerless to put down the performance of dramatic plays 
 inculcated by the Romans. During the Middle Ages, all the 
 various periods, even the most barbarous, have added a page to 
 
 * Latin comedy fell gradually into decay, and died out with the ruin of the 
 Roman empire and the invasion of the barbarians, and until the time of 
 Charlemagne no trace is left of the theatre in Italy. 
 
Appendix. 249 
 
 the history of the stage, — from the fourth century, which gave us 
 the suffering Christ, until the tenth, when Roswitha, the nun, 
 from Sandersheim, endeavoured by her Christian pieces to destroy 
 the ancient theatre. Nor could Christianity annul the Grecian 
 influence which gave rise to the tragedy of the " Passion of 
 Christ," ascribed to Gregory Nazienzen, who was called by his 
 contemporaries the great lyric poet of the Greek Church. 
 
 Christian literature at that time was a mixture of old Greek 
 and modern Christian material fused into one mould. In 
 the "Passion of Christ," as it was performed by the Christians of 
 the fourth century, the action takes place behind the scenes, and 
 is only announced by messengers, — the principal actress being 
 the Virgin mother, who represents and illustrates the sufferings of 
 her Son ; and although her lament is not devoid of pathos, the 
 verses are diffuse and long drawn out. The " Passion of Christ," 
 the first Christian drama, has its foundation in Attic tragedy. 
 It was owing partly to the Church's contention against the theatre 
 that the handsome buildings for all sorts of amusements were 
 allowed in the fifth century to fall into ruin. They were utilised 
 afterwards as quarries, whence were drawn the materials for castles 
 and cathedrals. Actors, however, never disappeared entirely, but 
 appeared as jongleurs, players, mummers, who no doubt were a 
 degenerate offspring of the Roman actors. They held exhibitions 
 of mummery in the streets and at public festivals. Sometimes 
 they were tolerated, in order to amuse the people ; at other times 
 they were driven away as vagabonds. The mass at the time of 
 Gregory the Great was a dramatic celebration, full of religious 
 emotion. In the procession that took place in the different 
 towns, generally in commemoration of a saint, and later in 
 the pageantries of Corpus-Christi day, very striking religious 
 mummeries were performed by priests, friars, corporations, &c, 
 in their various picturesque costumes, with togas and banners. 
 Adam and Eve were represented, carrying the tree of knowledge ; 
 St John the Baptist appeared as a herald, carrying the banner of 
 Christ and a lamb ; Judas, bearing a bag of money, followed by 
 the devil with the gallows J and various saints, according to their 
 
Appendix. 
 
 individuality. In France, Germany, and Italy, pageants of a less 
 religious kind were held in honour of some hero. The first 
 record of the development of the miracle-play is found in France, 
 in the eleventh century, and its example was soon followed in all 
 German and Latin nations. The " Rise and Fall of Antichrist" an 
 Easter play of the twelfth century, is the] [first great miracle-play 
 which we possess of German origin. The scenic arrangement was 
 very simple, and from its description we may infer that it was a 
 musical play intended to be performed. The scenery is thus 
 given : — In the background, facing the east, is the temple of the 
 Lord ; in front of it, the thrones of the principal personages 
 surrounded by their armies. The intercourse between the princes 
 sitting on their thrones is carried on by messengers, and the 
 space is supposed to be large enough to represent the distance 
 between Germany and Jerusalem. Allegorical personages open 
 the play. Pagans and Jews appear as women. The Church is 
 represented in kingly crown and armour, accompanied by Mercy 
 with the olive branch, and Justice with the balance and sword ; 
 and is followed, on the right, by the Pope and clergy, on the left 
 by the Emperor and his hosts. The kings of the earth bring up 
 the rear. In the first part the emperor sends heralds to the 
 kings of the earth to demand submission. The French king 
 claims the right of supremacy, and not until he loses the battle 
 does he submit. The emperor's aid is then claimed by the King 
 of Jerusalem to defend the Church against the King of Babylon 
 and Paganism. The emperor crushes them, and deposits the 
 crown of Babylon in the temple of the Lord. In the second 
 part of the play Antichrist appears, wearing a short mail hidden 
 under his wings ; Hypocrisy and Heresy stand one on each side of 
 him, and try to win the king's favour; he, however, sees through the 
 intended deception, and subdues the army of Antichrist. The 
 latter personage, however, works miracles, heals a cripple and a 
 leper, and brings to life a man who has feigned death. He once 
 more regains his power j but shortly after a sound is heard from 
 above, — Antichrist falls. The hypocrites rush away ; and all 
 return to the true faith, and the Church rejoices. Then she 
 receives her own again, and sings, " Praise ye the Lord." 
 
Appendix. 251 
 
 From the thirteenth century the miracle-play, as it severed 
 itself gradually from the Church offices, was banished from the 
 churches by the Popes, as being connected more or less with 
 profane amusements. These miracle-plays, till then performed in 
 Latin, drifted into the vulgar tongue with the acting of the people. 
 Occasionally lay brethren assisted in the pious work. In 
 Antwerp, a brotherhood — St Luke's — consisting mostly of artists 
 and artificers, acted the old Flemish pieces ; and in Paris, the 
 Confrerie de la Passion, composed of artisans, received from 
 Charles VI., in 1402, a charter for the exclusive performance of 
 miracle-plays in the towns and suburbs. In Rome, the brother- 
 hood Del Gonfalone played in passion week the sufferings of 
 Christ, in the Colosseum, once the very arena where so many 
 Christians were torn to pieces by wild beasts. 
 
 Sometimes a whole town would take part in the play. In that 
 case a trumpet call summoned all, and each one had to sign a 
 document and swear under penalty of death to study carefully his 
 part. Such performances took place in the open air, on a very 
 large stage; and as scenic decorations were unknown, the different 
 places where a town, house, or forest ought to have been, were 
 indicated by a written inscription, the names being affixed on a 
 board. In France, and also in England, there was often a stage 
 with three stories ; — to represent paradise, the upper stage was 
 adorned with tapestry and trees ; then the earth the middle stage : 
 and hell the lower part. In Germany, paradise was only at one 
 end of the stage raised a few steps from the rest ; the devil had 
 for his abode a large cask. The actors being invisible, some one on 
 the stage indicated by a dumb show whence the noise came, either 
 from paradise or from earth. When the actors made their first 
 appearance, they, or some one for them, had to state what each 
 one represented. These miracle-plays, as already stated, de- 
 generated gradually into cynical speeches and mere orgies, and 
 were prohibited from time to time by Gregory IX., the Council of 
 Treves in 1227, William Waddington in the thirteenth century, 
 William of Wykeham in 1384; but all was in vain. These miracle- 
 plays kept their popularity for five centuries, and were still in vogue 
 
EARLY DRAMA : A MIRACLE PLAY. 
 
Appendix. 253 
 
 in the time of Shakespeare. The " Chester Mysteries " were per- 
 formed in 1567 and 1574; however, they were finally suppressed 
 after four days' performance. They began from the time of the 
 Norman conquest, and are mentioned as familiar spectacles by 
 Matthew Paris and Fitzstephen in the very beginning of the 
 twelfth century. Protestantism had no small share in destroying 
 the superstitions and the abuses of an exhibition which did not 
 coincide with its sober faith. At Eisenach, after Easter 1322, 
 when the country was at peace, a play of the " Wise and Foolish 
 Virgins" was acted before the Landgrave Frederick "of the bitten 
 cheek." Seeing that the foolish virgins found no mercy, although 
 Mary herself interceded for them, the Landgrave exclaimed, — 
 " What sort of faith is Christian faith, if Christians cannot be 
 pardoned even at the intercession of the mother of God and all 
 the saints ? " 
 
 MORALITIES. 
 
 If religion was taught by the mysteries, philosophy was taught 
 by the moralities. Thus this branch of education was made 
 popular. In mediaeval times Latin dissertations were written for 
 the learned, whilst for the mass the subjects of education were 
 treated as dramas. The first allegoric characters were Faith, 
 Hope, and Charity; virtues and vices also appeared as personages. 
 In the Middle Ages allegory and fable are found simultaneously. 
 The old fable writers remained popular, as they gave a sparkling form 
 to the aphorisms and maxims which at that time passed for 
 wisdom. Allegory facilitated the study of moral questions. 
 Latin treatises were cut into pieces, and human sentiments were 
 personified and appropriately dressed. So soon as morality 
 detached itself from religion, allegory filled the pages of literature ; 
 sometimes it gives birth to graceful poems, at others it takes the 
 shape of animals performing human actions, the story in each 
 case inculcating a moral. Occleve, Gower, Heywood, and others 
 
254 Appendix. 
 
 wrote lengthy and often heavy poems, such as Heywood's " The 
 Spider and the Fly" (1556). It is a long tale in verse. The fly 
 represents the Catholics, and is caught in the web of the spider 
 — image of the Protestants. After numerous quarrels and alterca- 
 tions, the servant — or queen — kills the spiteful spider. The 
 whole story was so diffuse, that Harrison said : — " The author has 
 displayed such depth and learning, that neither himself nor those 
 who read the book can rise to its level." The theatrical pieces 
 derived from the same sort of ideas are obscure in their meaning, 
 devoid of interest, and always end with a moral. A few r sublime 
 ideas only are found scattered among endless and grotesque 
 maxims of classical, philosophical, and theological reminiscences. 
 The very basis of the play is anti-dramatic. In the morality the 
 personage is determined beforehand, and often describes himself 
 whether he is a vice or a virtue ; his acts, deeds, and answers are 
 all fixed beforehand. From the first scene all know what is to 
 follow, and the inevitable moral result, namely, the triumph of 
 virtue and sobriety over vice and dissipation. Most of these 
 dramas are stereotyped in this form. The piece generally begins 
 with a monologue, in which the speaker describes himself either 
 as Wisdom, Nature, &c. A man comes and announces that he 
 believes in God, but has no decided tendency either towards 
 good or evil. Then Sensuality, Innocence, Justice. Virtue, all vie 
 with each other to win the man's heart. Sensuality and his 
 friends take this man to the harem, which is there to represent 
 all dissipation and crimes. The man, after a good deal of 
 sporting and flirting with " Nell, the pretty dancer," or " Bess, the 
 jolly lass," repents, seeks his wise and virtuous friends, and the 
 piece ends with a benediction. Such is the nature of the moralities 
 called the "Interlude of Youth;" "Nature;" "The Four Elements," 
 &c. (1555). Vice is almost always represented as the buffoon of the 
 piece j he is armed with a wooden sword or dagger, and is always 
 very popular. The " Interlude of the Four Elements " (15 10) is a 
 philosophical drama, in which science and mathematics are inter- 
 polated. The lark, for instance, is suspended in the middle of the 
 firmament ; the rain, thunder, snow, meteors, are fully explained. 
 
Appendix. 255 
 
 Nature opens the play, and describes himself in the most elaborate 
 manner. Humanity listens, then Sensuality comes in and takes 
 him to the tavern. Then follows a sort of geographical descrip- 
 tion. The World and Nature seemed to be favourite personages. 
 Hence Medwall, chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury, wrote 
 " A goodly enterlude, copylyd by master Henry Medevall, chaplayn 
 to the ryht Rev. Father in God Johan Morton somtyme Cardynall 
 and Archbyshop of Canturbery, 1538." 
 
 " NATURE. 
 " There ys in erthe no maner thynge 
 That ys not partyner of my influence : 
 Who taught the cok hys watche houres to observe, 
 And sing of corage wyth shryll throte on hye ? 
 Who taught the pellycan her tender heart to carue ? 
 
 Certes I nature and none other wyght." 
 
 These allegories, however, were heavy and tedious. Collier in his 
 history of English dramatic poetry tells us that Henry VIII., who 
 was present at one of Medwall's moralities, found it so dull, in 
 spite of the renowned buffoon, that he left the room suddenly. 
 
 Magnificence, — " Magnyfycence," — a goodly interlude by 
 Mayster Skelton, 1531, and other pieces of his, were extremely 
 popular. 
 
 The authors of moralities wanted to propagate their doctrines, 
 and did so by means of the theatres, which were popular ; thus 
 they preached in the form of dialogues to those who would not 
 have gone to church. The comic, coarse, and laughable parts 
 were assigned to the bad propensities. All these moralities, as 
 time went on, drifted more and more towards the comedy of 
 characters, but before true comedy had attained its perfect form. 
 The farce was the natural consequence of the moral dramas, 
 and the stepping-stone from moralities to comedy. Some 
 comedies, however, appeared between these progressive attain- 
 ments, and borrowed from both of the two styles their most 
 refined qualities. Thus was composed the admirable comic play, 
 " Gammer Gurton's Needle, a ryght pithy, pleasaunt, and merie 
 
256 Appendix. 
 
 comedie, played on stage not longe ago in Christes College in 
 Cambridge, made by Mr S., Master of Art,* London, 1575," 
 Elizabethan period. In France the farce attained its full maturity 
 — beneath the mantle of the mystery — in the fifteenth century. 
 
 FARCE. 
 
 On Shrove Tuesday, 15 11, was acted a play called "The Prince 
 and Mother of Fools," composed by Gringore, herald of the court 
 of Lorraine : " Le jeu du prince des sots et mere sotte, mis en rime 
 francaise par Pierre Gringore et joue par personnaiges aux Halles 
 de Paris le Mardy gras de l'annee 15 1 1." In this play holy Mother 
 Church, wearing a triple crown, acknowledges with brazen frank- 
 ness that she has been guilty of many tricks attributed to her by the 
 reformed. On suspicion that she is not the true church, her 
 vestments are torn off, and the mother of the fools is discovered. 
 About the same time we read in Gil Vincente, a Portuguese poet, 
 of a seraph introduced into a play performed at a public fair in 
 honour of the Virgin. The seraph offers to sell the fear of God 
 to the Pope and the clergy by weight, and as the devil protests, 
 Mercury shows up the conduct of Holy Rome, who dispenses the 
 salvation of souls for a remuneration. 
 
 POLEMIC PLAYS. 
 
 During the carnival, when all joined in jest and indulged 
 in more or less humorous recreation, jokes and satire on the 
 Papacy, which often led to the most serious religious controversy, 
 were hidden under the cloak of the licence of the time and place. 
 Such jesting seemed to be most popular, and at the same time 
 less liable to punishment. In Berne, in 1522, Niclaus Manuel 
 had his play, " The Devourer of the Dead," represented in the 
 
 * John Still, afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells. 
 
Appendix. 257 
 
 Kreuzgare by some of his Bernese friends. It was a satirical 
 morality, based on the taking of money for masses for the dead 
 by the clergy. These farces or satirical dramas show the 
 beginning of the estrangement of the people from the clergy, and 
 in same degree a movement towards reformation, — hence the name 
 of "polemic plays." The Catholic retort to these was perhaps not 
 so prolific in dramatic performances, yet offered many counter- 
 parts of them ; for instance, Luther and his wife, Katherine of 
 Bora, the nun, are brought to disgrace, and the Reformation is 
 represented as a tissue of lies, &c. 
 
 Philip II. ordered the commemoration of the massacre of St 
 Bartholomew by a festival play called " The Triumph of Faith." 
 Sir David Lindsay, the Scottish " Lyon King at Arms," was 
 foremost amongst the nobles who chiefly contributed to the 
 reformation of the old faith. Born in 1490, he was at the court of 
 James V. of Scotland, entertaining the monarch with his verses 
 and songs, and by dancing and singing, accompanying himself on 
 the lute. He was outspoken, and undertook to reform the 
 theatre. In his satire on " The Three States " — a poem on the 
 three classes — he represents Scotland and all its orders of society, 
 from the beggar to the king, and passes in review its abuses ; — 
 representing the king himself as accessible to flattery and 
 given to various vices. This work forms a very long drama, in 
 which he brings forward a large number of personages, including 
 buffoons, who render the satire general. It was represented for 
 the first time in 1535, and again in 1539, before the king and 
 queen, and the whole court, at the special request of the king ; 
 and in 1554, before the queen-regent, on which occasion it played 
 nine hours. Although the religious reform in England and 
 Scotland was making rapid strides, yet it had not had any 
 direct influence on literature. It is not until the time of 
 Cromwell and the Puritans that the Bible became the book. 
 
 The theatres were closed, and dramas ceased to be written. 
 It is not until after the Restoration that actors reappeared on the 
 stage. The theatre had then lost its former originality ; the 
 habits and ideas of the nation had drifted into a new channel, 
 
258 Appendix. 
 
 and imitations of French writers, with an extraordinary amount of 
 licence and looseness in thought and language, prevailed until the 
 revival of Shakespeare rescued the English stage from its decay. 
 To the farces and polemic as well as theological dramas must be 
 added the interludes, which may be considered the connecting 
 link between the morality and the true drama. In the days of 
 Henry VIII. interludes were a part of literature. They consisted 
 in representing in action, jests, or serious thoughts ; and formed 
 part of entertainments given by the nobility and gentry to their 
 friends. These interludes were performed during or after a 
 banquet, and in large households, and often by the servants of 
 the mansion themselves, by those especially who were gifted 
 with aptitude for mimicry. John Heywood, who excelled in this 
 kind of literature, wrote an interlude in one act called " The Four 
 P's ; namely, a Palmer, a Pardoner, a Poticary, and a Pedlar." 
 These parts were taken by four servants, and performed during a 
 banquet. The action turns upon a trial of skill among the four 
 as to which of them will tell the greatest lie. 
 
 Palmer. 
 " Now say thy worst ; 
 Now let us hear of all thy lies, 
 The greatest lie thou may'st devise, 
 And in the fewest words thou can." 
 
 Poticary. 
 " Forsooth, you are an honest man." 
 
 Pedlar. 
 "There said he much, but yet no lie." 
 
 Poticary. 
 " If we both lie, and you say true, 
 Then of these lies your part adieu." 
 
 Then follows the narration of extravagant tales. 
 
 Pedlar. 
 " That each of you one tale shall tell ; 
 And which of you tell'th most marvel, 
 And most unlikest to be true, 
 Shall most prevail whate'er ensue." 
 
Appendix. 259 
 
 The Pardoner and the Poticary each tell an extravagant tale, 
 and the Palmer caps it by expressing his astonishment at Satan's 
 rinding women so troublesome : — 
 
 "Whereby much marval to me ensueth, 
 That women in hell such shrews can be, 
 And here so gentle, as far as I see. 
 Yet have I seen many a mile, 
 And many a woman in the while. 
 No one good city, town, or borough, 
 In Christendom, but I've been through ; 
 And in this I would ye would understand 
 I have seen women five hundred thousand, 
 And oft with them long time have tarried. 
 Yet in all places where I have been, 
 Of all women that I have seen, 
 I never saw nor knew, in my conscience, 
 Any one woman out of patience." 
 
 Poticary. 
 
 " By the mass there is a great lie." 
 
 Pardoner. 
 "I never heard greater, by our Lady." 
 
 Pedlar. 
 " A greater ! nay, know ye any so great ? " 
 
 So the prize is awarded to the Palmer for having told the 
 biggest lie. 
 
 We see by another interlude, entitled "A New Enterlude, 
 printed in 1573, no less wittie than pleasant, entituled New 
 Custom," that it was written for ten people, but arranged so as to 
 be played by four only. The parts were as follows : — 
 
 f New Custome. 
 1. Perverse Doctrine. 3.-! Avarice. 
 
 I Assurance. 
 
 , T r Light of the Gospel. 
 
 ( Ignoraunce. I to , . r 
 
 \ Ii ocrisie \ Creweltie> 
 
 I rj . £ .. ' ' I Godde's felicitie. 
 
 V Edification. I 
 
 VThe Prologue. 
 
260 Appendix. 
 
 Coarse jokes, as we see, are introduced in these interludes and 
 moralities. They were not true plays ; and although it cannot be 
 said that the true drama derived its direct source from them, 
 yet the taste for such entertainments developed, in the houses of 
 the rich and of the lords, a taste for the encouragement of skilled 
 actors. From the castle, talent migrated into more humble 
 abodes, and soon was welcomed by the people at large, who took 
 delight in exhibitions that touched upon questions in which all 
 felt more or less interest ; and when the drama at last appeared, 
 it found companies of actors ready to interpret it. 
 
 If we cast a rapid glance backward at the origin of the theatre 
 in the Flemish countries, we find that, as in the Greek theatre, it 
 had its foundation in religion. We see that in the most remote 
 times the liturgic ceremonies, and the archery meetings, gave birth 
 respectively to the mysteries and to the moralities. The clergy 
 were the first to take part in religious and dramatic exhibitions, — 
 the priests spread the knowledge of the holy history by means of 
 scenic representations. In the twelfth century the mysteries were per- 
 formed in the church and churchyard, on occasions of great religious 
 festivals, such as the birth of our Saviour, the resurrection, &c. 
 
 The local festivities were the occasions for the performance of 
 plays in honour of certain patron saints. All those celebrations 
 which were originated by the priests were after a time extended to 
 the laymen, who became the performers ; thus they degenerated 
 into a sort of mingled work of profane and sacred drama, and 
 at length were forbidden in 1293 by the synodal statutes of 
 Utrecht. These performances thus migrated from the church 
 into the street ; and not only was the passion celebrated with the 
 display of a scenic performance, but in 1405, at Oudenarde, 
 pantomimic representations were given, with the employment of 
 inscribed rolls containing religious maxims and allegories. The 
 shooting guilds also performed dramatic pieces, with kings, syndics, 
 buffoons, banners, — in fact, a complete pageant. The members of 
 these guilds were called " Gesellen " (companions), and took the 
 opportunity of these meetings to give exhibitions where coarse 
 jokes and buffoonery formed the principal attraction. 
 
Appendix. 261 
 
 The origin of the chambers of rhetoric and literary societies 
 are attributed to the " Gesellen," who were engaged by the 
 companies of the archers to enliven their solemnities by those 
 scenic games and festivities, which lasted several days. The 
 number of spectators who attended these meetings must have 
 been very great, as also the number of performances, if we judge 
 by the following verses found in Martin le Franc's poem 
 " L'Adversaire " : — 
 
 " Va-t-en aux festes a Tournay, 
 A celles d'Arras et de Lille, 
 
 D'Amiens, de Douay, de Cambray, 
 De Vallenciennes, dAbbeville : 
 
 La Verras-tu des gens dix mille 
 Plus qu'en la foret de Iorfolz, 
 
 Qui servent par sales, par viles, 
 A ton dieu, le prince des folz." 
 
 From 1428 to 1562 important festivities took place every year 
 in different towns, when the monotony of archery meetings was 
 relieved by the performances of the Gesellen, and latterly by 
 theatrical performances. Not only the town but also the country 
 people took part in these exhibitions, which were kept up until 
 the year 1764, when at Petegem was represented the martyrdom 
 of St Mark, and at Marcellin of St Sebastian, patron of the town, 
 who lived in the time of the Roman emperor Diocletian. 
 These Gesellen formed themselves into associations or societies, 
 which became either scientific or dramatic. A rhetorical society, 
 called the " Mother-Society of Ypres," was formed; being the oldest, 
 and invoking the protection of the Holy Trinity, it enjoyed 
 privileges, rights, and authority over other societies, who could 
 not be established without its consent, and who had to submit all 
 their by-laws and regulations to the mother society. The members 
 of these societies had their blasores, also their chiefs, who were 
 called princes, emperors, deans, &c. ; a fiscal to maintain order, a 
 standard-bearer, and a buffoon were also appointed. In the 
 smaller societies one person fulfilled two functions. 
 
 The buffoons used to play a very important part in the farces 
 
262 Appendix. 
 
 that were performed during the processions of the " Holy Sacra- 
 ment." They often accompanied the magistrates, who kept them 
 in their own service or retinues. Even to this day the practice — 
 five centuries old — of introducing a clown in the shooting 
 assemblies is still kept up. On the eve of a shooting match, a 
 fifer, drummer, and clown go and greet the members of the 
 brotherhood. The clown performs a dance before their house, 
 and presents them with a small blazon mounted with a quill 
 feather, which the sportsman ties carefully to his coat. 
 
 Religious disputes gave rise to the ridiculous and farcical per- 
 formances of the mysteries; and the satire, irony, and violent 
 vituperations against religious sects, caused Philip II. to issue an 
 edict in 1559 forbidding the performance of any comedy without 
 special authority. In the sixteenth century the rhetorical societies 
 were dispersed, and with them disappeared the performance of these 
 comedies. Alva and his accomplices ruined Belgium ; its national 
 character, its democratic habits, were destroyed, and the country 
 was overrun with monks, priests, and courtiers. Although most 
 of the rhetoricians had taken refuge in foreign lands, the theatre 
 recovered from its temporary ruin ; but it was placed in the hands 
 of the clergy. Dramatic plays were performed in ecclesiastical 
 schools, conducted by Jesuits, Oratorians, Augustins, — a theatre 
 belonged to the establishment, and the whole dramatic action, 
 with continuous scenery and allegorical ballets, was represented. 
 A sort of rivalry arose among the different institutions, and in 
 order to attract the pupils they issued carefully prepared bills. The 
 comic element was not in any way introduced, as we may judge 
 by the following programme : — " Fete in honour of Monseigneur 
 Francois de Vaulabelle, Bishop of St Omer, by the students of 
 the Society of Jesus, 151 1 ; the angel of the church of St Omer 
 will dance a ballet, and the angel of the church of St Omer will 
 gambol at the end of every symbolic drama as a true son of 
 Terpsichore." 
 
Appendix. 263 
 
 SACRED DRAMA IN SPAIN. 
 
 An offspring of the mysteries during the fifteenth century, and 
 probably more of the moralities, had been the " Autos," acts or 
 deeds. Thus we read of " Autos and Nascimiento," or Christmas 
 plays. In Madrid, festive dances accompanied the procession of 
 the Corpus Christi through the streets, a stuffed giant and an 
 immense snake being carried as symbols of paganism. A company 
 of strolling actors travelled from place to place to act the " Autos 
 Sacramentales," or sacred deeds. In the towns a scaffolding was 
 erected on wheels, and surrounded by three small houses of 
 varied colours, and brought there for the occasion. They served 
 as dressing-rooms for the actors, and also as a means of extending 
 the stage. These actors used to travel after a performance, pro- 
 bably without changing their dress, so as to arrive at their next des- 
 tination in good time, especially when they were going to perform 
 in a country place where no scaffolding or stage would be needed. 
 Thus we see a company of actors described as sitting in a cart, 
 and going to act the " auto " of " Las Cortes de la Muerte," the 
 Court of Death : — a man dressed as Death ; Cupid, an angel with 
 large wings ; a man in armour ; and an Emperor, with a tinsel 
 crown, — the cart being driven by a horrible Devil. The perform- 
 ances took place in the daytime, tapers being lighted in honour 
 of the Deity. The actors acted the " Corpus Christi " play, imper- 
 sonating allegorical attributes, — Light, Darkness, the Church, &c. 
 Many " autos sacramentales " were composed by Lope de Vega 
 and Calderon. In the auto of " Psyche," by the latter author, 
 we see mythology mixed with Christianity. Both these poets 
 wrote most admirable "autos," Calderon especially; for with 
 him (1600 to 1 681), died the sacred drama and the poetry of the 
 time, and into each he infused a sublimity of sentiment and a 
 fervour which made it truly national poetry. He added popularity 
 to his works by intermingling in them the comic element. Next to 
 the mysteries and " autos " were the lives of the saints, which 
 ministered to the popular craving for the miraculous. Although 
 
264 Appendix. 
 
 much decried by Cervantes, these sacred dramas were considered 
 as the more powerful means of awakening in a people already 
 predisposed to fanaticism a profound sense of religious 
 feeling. They were performed in the theatre by professional 
 actors, who no doubt were themselves the offspring of strolling 
 players who -had taken part in the ancient mummeries. In Lope 
 de Vega's religious dramas the truth and abuse of religious 
 doctrines are fully represented. It is said that Don Juan was 
 introduced into a drama called the " Atheist Struck Down," which 
 would show that the secular element was gradually introduced 
 into religious dramas. An amusing tale is told of Calderon, who 
 had to perform the part of Adam, Philip IV. representing the 
 Creator. Whilst describing the beauties of paradise he per- 
 ceived that the king was growing impatient, and asked what was 
 the matter. "What is the matter?" cried Philip, "I grieve at 
 having created such a long-winded Adam ! " Calderon and Lope 
 de Vega's dramas are mostly religious and religious polemics ; 
 both attacked Protestantism with hatred, as may be seen in the 
 former's " Schism of England." 
 
 TRAGEDY AND COMEDY IN THE XIIIth AND XIVth 
 CENTURIES IN FRANCE. 
 
 The history of French comedy may be traced from the thirteenth 
 century, and although it presents different tendencies and shows 
 various periods, it never deviated entirely from its original form 
 and traditions, from its commencement to our days. Tragedy, 
 on the contrary, may be said to have passed almost suddenly, 
 without any intermediate gradations, during the age of the 
 " Renaissance," from the mystery to the classical tragedy. 
 Although in the year 1568 such dramas as "Paul le Furieux; 
 tragedie prise de la Bible, faite selon l'art a la mode des vieux 
 poetes tragiques," were represented, still, as is indicated by the 
 title, these dramas followed antique models. The classic theatre 
 
Appendix. 265 
 
 of our modern time differs from that of olden times in the con- 
 ception of the drama and scenic effects, the interest resting on 
 the development of an intrigue or situation. A tragic situation is 
 based on the conflict of contrary passions, displayed and inter- 
 woven by the combination of different incidents, leaving the 
 spectator doubtful as to the issue, and rouses his curiosity by 
 unforeseen complications. Modern melodrama, no doubt, often 
 carries these complications to a degree which passes all the 
 bounds of common sense and probability. The theatre of the 
 Middle Ages was very different ; instead of carrying on intrigue 
 in an intricate manner, and ending it in an ingenious way, its 
 object was to make a spectacular display ; and instead of 
 representing the deepest and most hidden passions of the soul, 
 it gave a more superficial aspect of an action which was carried 
 on by a large number of actors, without limit of time or place, 
 either in heaven, earth, or hell, a few verses separating two 
 centuries, or a few yards representing a distance of a thousand 
 miles. The old theatres represented everything simultaneously ; 
 the modern theatre shifts its scenery, and each scene represents a 
 room, a palace, or a limited tract of country. The ancients, on 
 the contrary, imagined they saw a world in each different part of 
 the stage. The old theatre was based on the superstitious pre- 
 dilection for the marvellous, the whole action soaring into the 
 supernatural. On the contrary, in the modern theatre, the 
 classical drama, reasoning and metaphysical, admits of no super- 
 human incidents. In the Middle Ages, the characters, if any, 
 are weak; all the personages can almost be compared to bas- 
 reliefs, scarcely delineated, without any perspective, but grouped 
 on the same plan without harmony. The mystery admitted of 
 comicalities and buffoonery j these elements were side by side 
 with the sublime. The scenes that composed it were super- 
 natural, realistic, and trivial ; instead of the elegant, noble, and 
 powerful style which prevails throughout modern tragedy. 
 
 Although the mysteries were badly written, yet they were 
 spontaneously created by the people themselves. They had taken 
 root in their habits and belief; nothing in them was factitious or 
 
266 Appendix. 
 
 borrowed, and for this reason they were immensely popular. Our 
 classic tragedies, on the contrary, are appreciated only by the 
 smaller number, comprising the educated class. In the Middle 
 Ages, the play resembled the Grecian drama, inasmuch as it 
 glorified the Deity, the saints, and the martyrs, as the Greek 
 tragedy had set forth the power and sway of the gods. The 
 Renaissance, however, would not see this, and, banishing religion 
 as well as all comic elements, and even the history of the present, 
 turned for inspiration to the Greeks and Romans. Corneille was 
 the first to promote this imitation of the antique tragedy, em- 
 bellishing his subject with the sublimity of his sentiments and his 
 scholastic treatment. In his " Polyeute " he exalts the heroism of 
 Christian martyrdom, without being influenced in any degree by 
 the "mysteries." He dramatised St Polyeuctus, and made it still 
 more palatable to the state of the time by introducing a woman, 
 whose heart is divided between her newly married husband and 
 her lost lover, to whom she had successfully opposed her virtue. 
 In 1669 the Germans represented Polyeuctus, showing a vivid 
 reminiscence of the mysteries, by introducing idols which were 
 destroyed, and crucifying the Christians in sight of the audience, 
 and the gates of heaven and hell were opened. Racine wrote 
 " Esther " for the Demoiselles de St Cyr, basing his drama on the 
 Scriptural book of Esther, and shortly afterwards he produced 
 " Athalie," — Athaliah, the daughter of king Ahab of Israel. 
 This tragedy, which met with much opposition, was pronounced 
 after the death of Racine (1699), tne greatest work of the 
 greatest French tragic poet. " Athalie " was also written for the 
 Demoiselles de St Cyr, but never performed in their institution. 
 "Zaire" was written by Voltaire in 1732, and was called the 
 "Christian Tragedy;" but we know that Voltaire had no particular 
 sympathy with Christianity, which he only introduced in order to 
 exhibit a difference of religion as an obstacle to the union of the 
 lovers. 
 
Appendix. 267 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE FRENCH COMEDY. 
 
 The history of the French comedy, unlike the serious drama, was 
 not divided into distinct periods by the Renaissance. 
 
 Between the mediaeval mystery and the modern tragedy there 
 is nothing in common, the versification, style, and scenery are all 
 changed. Comedy, on the contrary, shows no interruption, no 
 thorough change after its first origin. From the thirteenth 
 century to our own time, a steady development, with slow modifi- 
 cations, always of a similar literary form, can be observed. Thus, 
 on this ground, the perfection of the comic style can be explained. 
 The traditions have been handed down for six centuries, and 
 reached Moliere, who boasted of taking his subject-matter where 
 he found it, " de prendre son bien partout 011 il le trouvait." It 
 was said that " ses vols etaient des conquetes " ; at any rate, such 
 material as had accumulated for centuries was a legitimate inherit- 
 ance, which his great genius has worked out in an unrivalled 
 style. The origin of French comedy is unknown. Probably the 
 jongleurs (jugglers), from the time of the Capetian dynasty, pos- 
 sessed a vast collection of satires and buffoonery ; but no trace of 
 this is left, and no text of any comedy is supposed to have been 
 written until the thirteenth century, when a short piece, " Le 
 Garcon et 1' Aveugle " is mentioned, and bears a great analogy with 
 the farces. It is from the reign of Charles VI. (1380 to 1422), 
 that we can trace the origin of the farces, moralities, " sotties," 
 monologues, jovial sermons, which developed into full dimensions 
 in the modern ages, in the course of two centuries. Comedy, how- 
 ever, existed in a different form at the time of St Louis, in the 
 thirteenth century, when Adam de la Halle wrote " Le Jeu de 
 la Feuillee " and " Robin et Marion," the one a satire in dialogue, 
 the other a pastoral comic opera. This Adam de la Halle was born 
 in 1230. The fourteenth century has left but few plays, and Adam 
 seems to have had no followers. Eustache Deschamp, however, 
 mentions the theatre as a pastime adapted for women : — 
 " Elles desirent les cites, 
 
 Les douls mos a euls recites, 
 
 Festes, Triarchies et le theatre 
 
268 Appendix. 
 
 Two comic plays are attributed to him, each having a special 
 character, which cannot be connected with that of the following 
 century. The first is a sort of morality ; the second is a farce,— 
 although neither bears either of these titles. The morality is 
 called a " dit," written probably to serve as an interlude during 
 some regal banquet. The " dits " were short poems, satiric or 
 moral, belonging really to the didactic school. In the title it is, 
 however, mentioned that they were to be performed by person- 
 ages who were called " Debat," " Dispute," &c. 
 
 The farce entitled " Maitre Trubest et Antroignart " is a 
 dialogue between a dishonest lawyer and a dishonest suitor. It 
 is more of a fable than a play. The names of the personages are 
 not mentioned, therefore we might reasonably suppose that a 
 single person recited the different parts. These are the only 
 instances of French comedy being mentioned in the fourteenth 
 century. It would seem that between the reign of Philip III. (le 
 Hardi) and Charles VII. (1422), there had been a complete inter- 
 ruption of theatrical literature, unless the comedies of that time 
 have disappeared, for no trace of any works appears. 
 
 FARCE. 
 
 The word " farce " is easily traced from the Latin farrire, to 
 stuff, to cram, — past participle fartus or farsus ; farsa is the 
 feminine gender. The farce, in liturgic language, was a sort of 
 paraphrase mixed with the sacred text. Thus w r e read in old 
 texts, " the kyrie eleison will be sung on the fete days with farce." 
 These farces were, in the early times, no doubt moral and respect- 
 able in character ; but in more modern times they must have 
 degenerated, and led to abuse, since we see that the Bishop of 
 Rouen (1248 to 1275), speaks of having interdicted the lessons 
 with farces {cum f arris). 
 
 Although at a later period the farce conveyed no other idea 
 than a merry comedy, often of a licentious kind, the origin of 
 
Appendix. 269 
 
 the word is the same whatever may have been its degenerate 
 acceptation. Although it is not possible to fix the date when the 
 word farce was first used in the acceptation just mentioned, and 
 as it does not seem to have been thus employed anterior to the 
 fifteenth century, we can but presume that farces may have existed 
 before that kind of play was thus designated. No doubt it owes 
 its influence to the fables or di/s, as it began at the time when the 
 latter ceased to be written. We may presume, that, although it 
 borrowed its satire from the fable, together with its humorous and 
 uncontrolled spirit, nevertheless it possesses a fund of comic 
 power and originality entirely its own. These farces continued to 
 be written with wonderful rapidity, and although many were 
 destroyed in the Middle Ages, we can imagine what a vast 
 number must have been produced, knowing that in every town 
 many merry societies existed, who at certain times of the year — as 
 far back as the seventeenth century — performed pieces, mostly 
 farces. Many of these were probably never written out. They 
 were invented with a view to amuse the public ; they often were 
 filled with a sort of local wit, calculated to cause laughter, without 
 laying claim to any literary value. 
 
 Athough at times aggressive, the farce avoided the offence it 
 might have given by its humorous bent. It says : " Ne vous 
 fachez pas ; je ris, je suis folle, ne vous donnez pas le ridicule de 
 prendre un fou au serieux." " Les Connards de Rouen," connards, 
 or comards, — thus called on account of the two horns or ears they 
 wore on their fool's caps, — were strolling bands who travelled 
 through the different districts reciting satirical poetry or perform- 
 ing farces. Their exertions were highly appreciated by the majority 
 of the people, and they enjoyed such great privileges that their satire 
 and insolence knew no bounds. Their chief had the title of abbot, 
 and at Rouen, on days of festivity, he wore the mitre, enriched with 
 precious stones (1509). Their satire on politics and religion was 
 the cause of their ruin. The Calvinists united together against 
 them, and interdicted their meetings (Rouen, 1562). Richelieu 
 opposed them, and they were finally put down (1626 to 1636). 
 
 Another no less popular kind of entertainment was added to the 
 
270 Appendix. 
 
 farce, namely " La Chanson." In the farce called " Le Savetier 
 Calbain," there are some twenty songs introduced. The farce 
 actors of that time could all sing, supplying by pantomimic action 
 what the voice could not render with effect. 
 
 SOTTIES. 
 
 It is supposed that in the reign of Charles II., towards the end 
 of the fourteenth century, a society was formed in Paris, com- 
 posed of rich young men of good family, who called themselves 
 " Enfants sans souci." They also designated themselves " Sots." 
 The origin of the word is probably derived from the fact that 
 those young people acted all sorts of absurdities, representing and 
 ridiculing the different classes of society. The "sottie," or "sottise," 
 was a farce acted by the " sots." These " sots," or " fol," had 
 their complete organisation, namely, its dignitaries, kings, middle 
 and lower class. Under the cloak of folly they ridiculed and 
 criticised the kings themselves.' The " sot " wore a costume 
 somewhat similar to that of the king's fool, the principal feature 
 being a hood adorned with asses' ears and bells ; he also carried 
 a fool's bauble. Yellow and green were the colours worn by a 
 " sot " and fool ; the yellow signified gaiety, as a sort of 
 exhilarating virtue was attributed to saffron ; green was the 
 symbol of hope, liberty, youth. Although traditions traced the 
 origin of the "sots" to a thoroughly organised society of rich 
 young gentlemen, we incline towards a different view; and judging 
 by the few documents left us, we believe them to have been a 
 company of poor youths, whose capital consisted entirely in their 
 wit, levity, unscrupulousness, and love for an idle and adventurous 
 life. In the fifteenth century, we see them described as 
 adventurers, or "la boheme " "du XVieme siecle," and "d'insati- 
 ables affames joyeux faineants fameliques." 
 
 An interesting document, dating from the early part of the 
 sixteenth century, gives a sad description of the fortunes of the 
 
Appendix. 271 
 
 " Enfants sans souci," — " The Epitaph of the defunct ' Maistre 
 Jehan Trotier ' " : — 
 
 " Pleurz, pleurz, les enfants sans soucy, 
 Quant vous voyez yey, moit et transy, 
 Votre pere, qui vous a gouvernez . 
 Le bon Trotier qui longtemps a vescu 
 Sans amasser ne grant blanc ne escu ; 
 Mais soulement il voullut en son temps 
 Cetre nomme l'un des pauvres contens : 
 Faisant comme le bon lievre chasse, 
 Pres de son giste est mort et trespasse, 
 L'ouziesme jour de Janvier mil cinq cens." 
 
 Thus " le bon Trotier," probably the prince of the " sots," lived 
 and died miserably. No doubt all his followers were in the same 
 case. These idlers probably acquired their taste for the theatre 
 and plays from the Basochiens, who were a society duly con- 
 stituted, like most other corporations of the Middle Ages. It is 
 stated, with more or less truth, that in 1303, Philippe le Bel 
 gave the title of " Bayaume des Basochiens " to a society formed 
 of the "Clercs du Parlement,"'who instituted a corporation for 
 the protection of their mutual interests and common amusements. 
 The term Basochiens is derived, according to some writers, from 
 the Greek basoqeios— loquacious or talkative. Its derivation, 
 however, comes more likely from the Greco-Latin word, basilica^ 
 a word applied to the royal courts of justice. From basilica 
 came basoche, as dimanche comes from doniinica. Until the 
 middle of the sixteenth century, " les enfants sans souci " con- 
 tinued to enjoy the favour of the people, and were the main 
 source of public amusement at the festivities held at Henry II.'s 
 coronation. In 1559 they are supposed to have acted a farce 
 called " Le Pauvre Villageois," before the court, on the occasion 
 of the marriage of Madame Claude, daughter of Henry II. , with 
 Charles II. Due of Lorraine. 
 
 The last traces of the " enfants sans souci " are found at the 
 beginning of the seventeenth century, although the societies 
 themselves had disappeared during the religious wars and violent 
 
272 Appendix. 
 
 agitations which took place in Paris 1584-94, in the person of 
 Nicolas Joubert, who assumed the title of " Sieur d'Angoulevent, 
 prince des sots," and who died in 161 5. After him there still 
 remained " des joeurs de farces," who performed farcical comedies, 
 clad in the fool's costume ; and in 161 6 w r e find a record of them 
 as having performed at the Hotel de Bourgogne. At that time, 
 however, there seems to have been some real actors. Pontalais, 
 in the reign of Francis I., in many ways resembles our modern 
 comic actors. Regular companies were formed with a respon- 
 sible manager; some of these companies received regular salaries, 
 others shared the receipts. This latter system of remuneration 
 by shares seems to have prevailed amongst actors, especially at 
 the beginning of the seventeenth century, Corneille exercised 
 his satirical wit on this sharing system, in his " Illusion comique," 
 and concludes his remarks thus : — " On releve la toile et tous les 
 comediens paraissent avec leur portier ; qui comptent l'argent sur 
 une table et prennent chacun leur part." 
 
 The French theatre, which is at present represented by the 
 Comedie Franchise, is the result of long years of growth, as we 
 may see by tracing its origin to the reign of Henry IV., when 
 comedians founded the " Theatre du Marais." A few years later 
 another theatre was built, in a portion of the hotel of the 
 Dukes of Burgundy, in the Rue Mauconseil, called Hotel de 
 Bourgogne. This theatre was afterwards rendered celebrated 
 by Corneille, Rotrou, and Racine. Then again sprang up the 
 theatres of the " Petit Bourbon " and " Palais Royal," where 
 Racine's first piece, " La Thebaide," was produced, as well as 
 some of Moliere's comedies. It is in the Hotel de Bourgogne 
 that plays by Corneille, Racine, and their predecessors w r ere 
 originally performed. In 1680, that is seven years after the 
 death of Moliere, we find three theatres in Paris, namely, " Le 
 Theatre du Marais," " l'Hotel de Bourgogne," and " Le Theatre 
 Guenegaud." Louis XIV. ordered the amalgamation of the two 
 principal companies, and incorporated them under the name of 
 " Comedie Francaise," thus creating a kind of parent institution 
 where literature as well as the art of acting found its own inspira- 
 
Appendix. 273 
 
 tions. This Comedie Francaise, now called " Theatre Frangais," 
 often changed its quarters ; thus we find it migrating from the 
 Palais Royal to the Rue Mazarin, then to the Rue des Fosses 
 St-Germain in 1689. In this theatre were performed some pieces 
 of Destouches, Crebillon, Lesage, Voltaire, Marivaux, Diderot, 
 as well as others. From thence the Comedie took up its quarters 
 at the Tuileries, where Beaumarchais had his " Barbier de 
 Seville/' and Voltaire his " Irene," represented. In 1782 the 
 Odeon offered a new home to the company. The Comedie lived 
 on until 1793, when the Revolution interrupted its course until 
 1799. Napoleon, as first consul, re-established it in its present 
 home, Rue Richelieu. Until then the performances had been 
 more primitive in style, for we hear of grandees occupying part 
 of the stage, and sitting with their backs to the public all along 
 the place where the footlights are now placed, thus interrupting 
 the view of the pittites. At that time also the footlights con- 
 sisted of candles, which had to be snuffed now and again during 
 the performance. The monopoly given by the great king Louis 
 XIV., and afterwards reconfirmed by Napoleon, made the present 
 Comedie Francaise the greatest institution of the kind in the 
 world. The general administrator is usually a distinguished man 
 of letters ; he works conjointly with some chosen members of the 
 company, and several representatives of the State. The choice 
 of these administrators is ratified by the " Ministre des beaux 
 arts." This executive committee appoint the societaires, or 
 members, from among the most distinguished individuals of the 
 company. There are twenty-four societaires, who, after twenty 
 years' service, are entitled to a pension of five thousand francs 
 a year, with an increase of two hundred francs for each additional 
 year. Without going into further details, these facts suffice to 
 show the usefulness of such an institution. Authors, actors, and 
 the public, are equally interested in its success, as it reflects a 
 glorious past, and does honour to the country which gave it 
 birth. A thousand pities that England, the cradle of tragedy, 
 of literature, and the wealthiest country in the world, should not 
 possess such an institution, and should allow its drama to shift 
 
 s 
 
274 Appendix. 
 
 for itself as best it can, in the hands of private enterprise, and 
 to drift into those sensational exhibitions which interfere so 
 greatly with the love of the beautiful. 
 
 ELIZABETH. 
 
 In Italy the modern drama was developed earlier than in other 
 countries, and was supported by literary societies, who built 
 numerous theatres for the performance of plays before England 
 possessed any such buildings. Sansovino and Titian built one of 
 the first theatres, at Canareggio, about 1570. About the same 
 time, Palladio built a theatre at Carita, in which " Antigono," a 
 tragedy, written by the " Conte di Monte Vicentino," was repre- 
 sented. The structure of these theatres, and of others such as 
 these built at Florence and Siena, resembled that of the ancient 
 amphitheatres. 
 
 In England, before the time of special theatres, tragedies were 
 performed in different halls of the Inns of Court, &c, fitted up 
 for these occasions. 
 
 The earliest known specimen of English tragedy is the play 
 of " Gorboduc ; or, Ferrex and Porrex," written by Thomas 
 Sackville and Thomas Norton, and played before Queen Elizabeth 
 at Whitehall, by the members of the Inner Temple, on the 18th 
 of February 1561-62. Shortly afterwards, Richard Edwards 
 (1523-66), a member of Lincoln's Inn and a popular poet, wrote 
 his classical drama of " Damon and Pythias," also " Palamon and 
 Arcite," which was performed before Queen Elizabeth in the hall 
 of Christ Church, Oxford. During the first part of the perform- 
 ance, the scaffolding which supported the stage gave way, causing 
 the death of several persons and injury to many others. The 
 stage, however, was repaired, and the performance went on. The 
 Queen, who expressed herself highly gratified with the play, made 
 a present of eight pounds to one of the actors. Many plays were 
 afterwards written and performed, and between the years 1568 
 
276 Appendix. 
 
 and 1580, fifty-two dramas were acted before the court, under the 
 superintendence of the master of the revels. The first regularly 
 constructed theatre, in London, was opened at Blackfriars, in 
 1576; and in the beginning of Shakespeare's career five theatres 
 were opened in London, besides other private establishments, 
 which gave employment to a large number of actors. These 
 theatres, of a circular form, were constructed of wood, and were 
 partly open to the sky; the stage only had a thatched roof or 
 covering; a flag was hoisted on the outside of it during the time of 
 performance, which began at three o'clock, and was heralded by 
 three blasts of the trumpet. {See page 277 — Globe Theatre.) 
 
 The courtiers and their ladies, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, 
 occupied boxes below the gallery, or sat on stools provided for 
 them on the stage ; whilst the younger gentlemen laid themselves 
 down on the rush-strewn floor, attended by their servants, who 
 handed them pipes of tobacco, considered at the time a great 
 luxury. The commoners occupied the pit, or yard, which was not 
 furnished with seats. Rude imitations of woods, houses, furniture, 
 served as scenery ; boards with large painted or written letters, 
 indicating the localities where the action took place, were hung 
 out during the performance. A dumb show or allegorical exhibi- 
 tion was displayed before each act, and gave an outline of what 
 was to follow. Shakespeare, however, rarely employed this dumb 
 show in his dramas or comedies. Female parts were performed 
 by boys, or effeminate-looking young men ; thus we may partly 
 account for the coarseness of the speeches often put into the 
 mouths of female characters in the old plays. This would strike 
 us with a still greater sense of admiration for Shakespeare, who 
 imparted to his female characters as much loveliness, exquisite 
 refinement, or vigorous passions, as if the ladies themselves had 
 been the performers. After each performance the clown of the 
 company (or comic actor) recited or sung a jig, or a light humorous 
 piece of writing : — 
 
 " A jig shall be clapped at, and every rhyme 
 Praised and applauded ; " 
 
 (Beaumont.) 
 
GLOBE THEATRE. 
 
278 Appendix. 
 
 in which he introduced satires on public men and events, or made 
 allusions to the audience. Before the public dispersed, all the 
 actors came on the stage, and, kneeling, offered up a prayer for the 
 Queen. It is not until after the Restoration (1660) that movable 
 scenery was first introduced. This was done by Davenant, and 
 actresses were now first seen on the stage. 
 
 If we compare the primitive and rude arrangements of the 
 seventeenth century with more modern scenery and appliances, 
 we must acknowledge that the actors of the present day have a 
 great advantage over their predecessors in the display of their art. 
 The lofty literature of our great dramatists, the sublime representa- 
 tions of characters by our great actors, have to some extent given 
 place to the spectacular and pantomimic performances that have 
 invaded our stage ; and instead of causing in us that thrilling and 
 ineffaceable sensation which genius never fails to awaken, the 
 drama becomes simply the wonder of the moment, which the 
 eye forgets almost as soon as it turns to another object. 
 
 In Dulwich College there is a memorandum written by the 
 old theatrical manager Philip Henslowe, stating that the price he 
 paid for a new play never exceeded ^"8, — that was in 1600; 
 after that date he gave ^20 and ^25, in order to compete with 
 rival companies. The proceeds of the second day's performance 
 were also accorded to the author. Prologues for new plays rose 
 in price from twenty to thirty shillings. The poverty of poets, 
 although they may have been actors as well, was proverbial. In 
 1602 a sum of ^10 was paid to Burbidge's players for perform- 
 ing " Othello " before Queen Elizabeth at Harefield, the seat of 
 Sir Thomas Egerton ; which shows that the managers of theatres 
 derived a part of their income from private performances, while 
 depending chiefly on public exhibitions. On the occasion of the 
 first performance of " Othello," a bill was stuck on the entrance 
 of the theatre, with the following matter printed in red letters : — 
 " By Her Majesty's Company of Comedians. At the Globe 
 Theatre this day will be acted a new tragedy called ' Othello, the 
 Moor of Venice,' written by William Shakespeare. The play will 
 begin at three o'clock exactly. Boxes, two shillings. Middle 
 Gallery, one shilling. Upper Gallery and Pit, two pence." 
 
Appendix. 279 
 
 GERMAN DRAMA. 
 
 Although we have fully described the origin of the drama, and 
 shown that it proceeded from the same causes in all civilised 
 countries, yet it may not be without interest to cast a rapid 
 glance at the sacred German dramas. The principal promoter 
 of this form was Hans Sachs, who introduced a greater number 
 of personages, and better scenery, than had been known in the 
 mysteries and carnival farces performed by the artisans' guilds 
 before his time (1494-15 7 6). He revived in his plays the scrip- 
 tural spirit which pervades the old mysteries, and especially drew 
 from the Old Testament ; and the treatment is similar, inasmuch 
 as he simply makes his personages relate, with action, the event 
 he wishes to represent. In his plays he does not hesitate to 
 mix up Christianity and heathendom. Many of his poems, 
 although defaced by the coarseness of the time, were free from 
 abuse or personality. His carnival play " Fastnachtspiel," which, 
 it may be said, was the forerunner of the German drama, already 
 existed in Nuremberg, and had been performed by the master- 
 singers before him. He gave it a more refined form, investing 
 it with satire and jest, avoiding at the same time the former 
 outrageous merriment. From these carnival masqueradings, buf- 
 foonery, and tirades, came this miracle play. It represented the 
 circumstances of ordinary life, with its quarrels, friendships, &c. 
 The jokes made at the cost of the Church were always full of good 
 and genial humour. The apostles were familiarly introduced, but 
 not without respect. In the carnival play, St Peter obtains per- 
 mission of the Lord to take a formal farewell of his friends. He 
 says : — 
 
 " Good Lord, I pray thee, grant to me, 
 
 If every wise it well may be, 
 
 That for just three days I may go 
 
 Once more to dwell on earth below ; 
 
 For three short days my friends to see, 
 
 And feast once more right merrily. " 
 
 A. W. Jackson's Translation of Carl Hase. 
 
280 Appendix. 
 
 While he is away the gate of heaven may remain closed ; Peter 
 promises to see that it is properly shut. After meeting with 
 friends, Peter reappears in another scene, suffering from headache 
 after a sojourn of a few days. This reminds him of his promise, 
 and whilst ascending to heaven, he is met by the Lord, who 
 has come forth to watch for him. Peter craves forgiveness, and 
 explains that jollity and good cheer had kept him longer than the 
 permitted time. He is then asked if all his friends were filled 
 with gratitude towards the Lord for the blessings showered upon 
 them. Peter is then obliged to confess that no one ever men- 
 tioned the name of God, except an old woman, who screamed 
 and implored the Lord to help her whilst her goods were burn- 
 ing, — which caused general laughter. After a second visit to the 
 earth, for which permission is again granted to him, he returns 
 hurriedly to heaven, and answers the Lord, who once more ques- 
 tions him : — 
 
 " Is there still none who asks for Me ? " 
 
 Peter. 
 " Oh, yes, most gracious Lord ! for Thee 
 Both young and old with fervour cry ; 
 Early and late they weep and sigh, 
 In penitence would pity win ; 
 Owning, with grief, their guilt and sin 
 With such true heart their cry they make, 
 Return, O Lord ! sweet pity take ! 
 To heal and end their bitter pain, 
 Myself, I cry, Lord, turn again ! " 
 
 — A. W. Jackson. 
 
 The Lord finding after Peter's first visit that mortals did not 
 trouble about Him, had sent plagues and destruction on earth 
 before Peter's second descent. 
 
 Hans Sachs was a shoemaker at Nuremberg, and managed 
 to acquire a certain amount of classical training at a Latin school. 
 He travelled through different towns, and at Munich he studied 
 with his fellow-townsman Nunnenbeck, and at Frankfort he 
 frequented the singing-school of the Meistersingers. It was at 
 the beginning of the fourteenth century that Germany witnessed 
 
Appendix. 
 
 the first formation of those brotherhoods composed of poet- 
 artisans. They practised the poetical art, according to certain 
 strict rules of prosody, — although such pedantic rules did not in 
 any way affect the measurement of the verses. They met in 
 taverns, where their poems were read out. Apprentices, journey- 
 men, and masters made up these societies. The title of master 
 could not be obtained without a knowledge of music ; as, to com- 
 pose different airs for the written poetry, w r as a necessary accom- 
 plishment. Charles IV. (1378), and Maximilian afterwards 
 granted many privileges to these guilds. To Hans Sachs are 
 attributed 6,048 pieces, including psalms, the Song of Solomon, 
 26 sacred comedies, 27 sacred plays, 52 secular comedies, 28 
 secular tragedies, 64 carnival farces, 59 fables, 116 allegorical 
 fables, 307 poems secular and sacred, and 197 comic tales. 
 
 Gotthold - Ephraim Lessing, born in January 1729 at 
 Kamenz, a small town in Lusatia, may be considered as having 
 rendered the greatest services to German dramatic literature. 
 His father was a Protestant clergyman, a man of learning. He 
 studied at Leipsic, and attended Koestner's lectures, which 
 greatly contributed to develop in him the germs of his great 
 talent. He had an innate love for the stage, and through his 
 intercourse with actors, made himself acquainted with many 
 details of their art, which dramatic authors cannot ignore without 
 detriment to their works. The first play which appeared under 
 his name is called u Le Jeune Savant," " The Young Scholar." It 
 met with the approval of the public, and of Weisse, an eminent 
 writer of the time. This greatly encouraged Lessing in his 
 course ; and shortly after his arrival in Berlin he published 
 his memoirs and contributions to the history and appreciation 
 of the stage, " Beytraege zur Historie und Aufnahme des 
 Theaters." Then followed the " Kleinigkeiten " Trifles, &c, 
 &c. When his first work came out, German literature was 
 yet in its infancy ; since Opitz, Logan, and others, few 
 important works had appeared. The " Messiah " by Klopstock, 
 Kleist's " Spring," and certain light works by Lichtwehr, 
 Hagedorn, &c, although forming a certain epoch, yet did not 
 
Appendix. 
 
 constitute a literature. The predilections of Frederick II. for 
 French literature, the works of Voltaire especially, delayed the 
 progress of German literature. Gottsched, who was prominent as 
 a writer, made it too subservient to the Greek and French models, 
 regardless of the genius of his own country. Wieland was the 
 first who translated Shakespeare. He and Lessing, who praised 
 the translation, really revealed the existence of the great English 
 poet to the German nation, for English literature was almost 
 ignored at that time. Lessing's influence showed itself first on 
 the stage. His early productions were, besides "The Young 
 Scholar," " The Jews," " The Misogynist " (the woman-hater), 
 " The Freethinker." These plays, written by a young man 
 twenty years of age, who had only just left school, were full 
 of coarse jokes, interspersed now and then with clever traits, yet 
 the dialogue was an improvement on the usual form of writing. 
 "Miss Sarah Sampson" (1755) and "Philotas" (1759) showed a 
 great improvement, and the latter especially displayed heroic senti- 
 ments and beauty of style. " Minna von Barnhelm " (1763) is an 
 advance on his other plays, and shows the German habits and 
 customs, which he delineates heartily and with well-designed 
 characters. His tragedy " Emilia Galotti " (1772), with some of 
 his other works, may be considered as having greatly perfected 
 the German style of writing. Lessing never was surpassed by 
 his contemporaries, and equalled by very few of his successors. 
 His writing may be compared to that of our best authors. 
 
 The full development and the highest flight of German drama 
 were attained in the period of Goethe and Schiller. Johann 
 Wolfgang Goethe (1749-1832) was justly called the "all-sided," 
 from the infinite variety of his literary productions, and this 
 applies also to his dramatic activity. In his " Iphigenia " is 
 reproduced the very spirit of Greek tragedy ; his " Gotz von 
 Berlichingen " reminds us in its construction of the " histories " of 
 Shakespeare, and especially of that play which describes the War 
 of the Roses. In his "Egmont" he gives us the sunny heroism 
 of the Flemish noble, in brilliant contrast with the dark intrigues 
 of the gloomy Spanish court. His " Faust " sounds every chord 
 
Appendix. 283 
 
 of human emotion and passion ; and in his lighter works, such as 
 his " Biirgergeneral," he sports with the humorous and eccentric 
 side of human nature. Friedrich von Schiller (1 759-1806) was 
 greatest in historic drama. His " Wallenstein " — a noble trilogy — 
 has been pronounced by Carlyle the greatest dramatic work of the 
 eighteenth century. In his " William Tell " he advocates the 
 principles of free government against the tyranny of feudalism ; 
 his " Maid of Orleans " gives a brilliant and imaginative picture 
 of the most romantic episode in French history; and in "Don 
 Carlos" we have a vivid picture of the priest-ridden king, who 
 crushed the life out of the magnificent inheritance he was called 
 upon to govern. The late German dramatists generally modelled 
 their work upon Goethe and Schiller. The one drama which has 
 become popular in England is the " Son of the Wilderness," of 
 Munch-Bellinghausen, who wrote under the pseudonym of Frie- 
 drich Halm. This play, under the name of the chief character, 
 " Ingomar," has been frequently produced, in an English garb, 
 on the stage in England and America. 
 
 THE CHINESE THEATRE. 
 
 The Chinese theatre of the present day has not, according to 
 reliable accounts given by competent writers, developed into 
 scenic perfection, like the European theatres. Its condition rather 
 resembles the primitive state that existed in England in the early- 
 part of the seventeenth century. A stage of boards, raised on 
 tressels seven or eight feet high, painted canvas at the sides and 
 back, and a rustic roof or covering, constitute the scene. Round 
 it are built raised planks, as we see in " penny shows." No scenery ? 
 only a few wooden stools to represent furniture. Such is the 
 present theatre in China. There are no buildings especially 
 devoted to theatrical purposes ; so that to have a performance 
 the inhabitants of a district subscribe the necessary funds to cover 
 the expenses, and at a short notice this rough sort of structure is 
 put up in a public square or street. 
 
284 Appendix. 
 
 The performances take place for the benefit of the general 
 public, and are in some degree encouraged by the Mandarins, 
 who add their subscription to the general fund. The higher 
 class of performances are to be witnessed in the houses of the 
 rich and of the aristocracy, in whose houses a stage is generally 
 erected. Not only is it customary to invite friends and equals, 
 but a certain amount of room is also reserved for the general 
 public. It is in these gatherings that classical works are wit- 
 nessed, and they are much appreciated by a cultured public, 
 although they are without any of the scenic effects which play 
 so important a part in our present performances. We see by 
 these facts that the Chinese habits and inclinations do not always 
 lean to the beating of drums and gongs, and blowing of toy 
 trumpets, especially in those receptions where classics and literary 
 works form the sole attraction. 
 
 The same state of things exists in China that used to prevail 
 in Europe centuries ago. Comedians are considered as a sort 
 of outcasts, and belong to a low class of society. They are 
 strollers, and travel from town to town ; they have their chiefs, 
 and, like tribes, have their laws. Only some of the largest and 
 wealthiest towns possess theatres, with regular troops of actors 
 attached to them. These exceptional theatres are properly 
 erected buildings, where entertainments of a higher class are 
 given. There are no actresses in China, female parts being 
 assumed by young men. Formerly, under the rule of the 
 Mongolian emperors, there were actresses. In 1263, Khoublai 
 issued a decree, by which actresses were considered as belonging 
 to the lowest and most degraded class of women. Probably the 
 contempt in which they were held caused so much irregularity of 
 behaviour amongst them, that it was thought necessary to banish 
 them from the stage altogether. This measure was taken as 
 lately as in the last century. 
 
 In the banquets that are given on days of reception, the 
 guests are seated two by two at each table, that they may see 
 what is going on on the stage. The servants bring in different 
 dishes, the feast consisting of sixteen or eighteen courses. As soon 
 
Appendix. 
 
 as the actors appear, the most profound silence prevails. The 
 performers are richly clad, and on entering the room they bow 
 together. One of them is led to the most distinguished guest, 
 and presents him with a book, in which are inscribed in golden 
 letters some fifty or sixty plays, which the comedians know by 
 heart, and any one of which they are able to perform at once. 
 The book is passed round among the guests, and when the choice 
 of a piece has been made, the doors are opened, and the public is 
 admitted to the part of the room reserved for that purpose. 
 The lady of the house and her friends have their seats in a 
 gallery apart, and hidden by a sort of grating. 
 
 The entertainments of the Chinese are no less original than 
 their eccentric dishes. An amusing tale is related in connection 
 with a banquet given in honour of Lord Macartney, the English 
 envoy, and his suite, during that nobleman's embassy to China. 
 After many suspicious courses had been allowed to pass untouched 
 by our Englishmen, some of his excellency's aides de camp 
 fancied an entree of inviting appearance, that looked like a 
 salmi of a kind of bird. They tried it, and found it sufficiently 
 relishing to compensate them for their prudent abstemiousness. 
 Wishing to know what the ingredients of the dish might really be, 
 one of the Englishmen turned to a Chinese attendant, and in the 
 belief that the platter had contained some preparation of duck, 
 pointed to it, and said inquiringly — "Quack, quack, quack?" 
 But the Chinaman shook his head, and with the child-like and 
 bland smile characteristic of his countrymen, answered — " Bow, 
 wow, wow ! " 
 
 The Chinese being perhaps less given to indulge the imagina- 
 tion and to violent passion than the European nations, their plays 
 deal generally with the ordinary circumstances and events of life, 
 and are seldom based on love intrigues. The Chinese drama 
 resembles the European dramas so far as the division of the scenes 
 and acts is concerned. A play in three acts and a prologue corre- 
 sponds to three acts and an overture. In high-class dramas the 
 sentiments are of an elevated character. For instance, motherly 
 or filial love, zeal for the study of literature, sense of honour, &c, 
 
286 Appendix. 
 
 predominate. There are also comedies of minor importance, in 
 which low intrigues are introduced. A striking difference exists 
 between the Chinese theatre and the European drama in the part 
 of the singer. 
 
 In French vaudevilles a few songs are introduced, of a light 
 character, and these add to the variety of the entertainment, 
 without forming an essential part of the plot. On the Chinese 
 stage, one person only sings. The singer takes part in the action, 
 and is the interpreter of moral sentiments ; he also explains to the 
 public the intricacies of the different situations, after the manner 
 of the Greek chorus. The singer is accompanied by instruments, 
 probably played in a sort of symphonic effect, much appreciated 
 by those who have the privilege of witnessing these performances. 
 It is said that the Chinese are fond of good music, and when an 
 Italian troupe of operatic singers executed some of Rossini's 
 works at Macao in 1833, the spectators expressed their astonish- 
 ment to hear recitatives and melodies so much like their own. 
 Our experience of Chinese music probably conveys to our ears a 
 very inadequate idea of the manner in which the senses of the 
 natives may be pleased at the performance of music properly 
 rendered, especially in a class of society where poetry and high- 
 class literature are widely cultivated. 
 
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