LITTLE MASTERPIECES OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY: ACTORS George Iles, editor This public-domain (U.S.) text was scanned and proofed by Ron Burkey. The Project Gutenberg edition (“aauto10”) was subse- quently converted to LATEX using GutenMark software, and modified (principally to correct formatting problems). The frontispiece, which was omitted from the Project Gutenberg edi- tion, has also been restored. Report problems to [email protected]. Revision B3 differs from B2 in that “—-” has everywhere been replaced by “—”. Revision: B3 Date: 01/30/2008 Contents PREFACE 1 JOSEPH JEFFERSON 5 HOW I CAME TO PLAY RIP VAN WINKLE . 6 THE ART OF ACTING . 14 PREPARATION AND INSPIRATION . 15 SHOULD AN ACTOR “FEEL” HIS PART 18 JOSEPH JEFFERSON IN MONTREAL: PLAYWRIGHTS AND ACTORS . 22 THE JEFFERSON FACE . 23 EDWIN BOOTH 25 TO HIS DAUGHTER . 26 TO HIS DAUGHTER . 27 TO HIS DAUGHTER . 29 TO HIS DAUGHTER . 30 TO HIS DAUGHTER . 31 TO HIS DAUGHTER . 32 TO HIS DAUGHTER . 34 TO MISS EMMA F. CARY . 36 TO MISS EMMA F. CARY . 37 TO MR. NAHUM CAPEN . 39 ADVICE TO A YOUNG ACTOR . 41 CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN 43 AS A CHILD A MIMIC AND SINGER . 44 i ii FIRST VISITS TO THE THEATRE . 45 PLAYS LADY MACBETH, HER FIRST PART . 47 TO A YOUNG ACTRESS [PART OF A LETTER] . 49 TO A YOUNG MOTHER . 51 EARLY GRIEFS. ART HER ONLY SPOUSE . 52 FAREWELL TO NEW YORK . 55 CLARA MORRIS 57 SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF JOHN WILKES BOOTH . 57 THE MURDER OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN . 64 SIR HENRY IRVING 83 THE STAGE AS AN INSTRUCTOR . 84 INSPIRATION IN ACTING . 86 ACTING AS AN ART. HOW IRVING BEGAN . 87 FEELING AS A REALITY OR A SEMBLANCE . 89 HENRY BRODRIBB IRVING 93 THE CALLING OF AN ACTOR . 94 REQUIREMENTS FOR THE STAGE . 96 TEMPTATIONS ON THE STAGE . 98 ACTING IS A GREAT ART . 100 RELATIONS TO “SOCIETY” . 102 THE FINAL SCHOOL IS THE AUDIENCE . 103 FAILURE AND SUCCESS . 107 ELLEN TERRY 111 HAMLET—IRVING’S GREATEST PART 112 THE BIRMINGHAM NIGHT . 113 THE ENTRANCE SCENE IN “HAMLET” 114 iii THE SCENE WITH THE PLAYERS . 117 IRVING ENGAGES ME ON TRUST . 118 IRVING’S EGOTISM . 121 IRVING’S SIMPLICITY OF CHARACTER 122 RICHARD MANSFIELD 125 MAN AND THE ACTOR . 126 NAPOLEON AS ACTOR . 127 THE GIFT FOR ACTING IS RARE . 129 THE CREATION OF A CHARACTER . 132 COPY LIFE . 134 SELF-CRITICISM . 135 DISCIPLINE IMPERATIVE . 137 DRAMATIC VICISSITUDES . 139 A NATIONAL THEATRE . 140 TRAINING THE ACTOR . 142 TOMMASO SALVINI 145 FIRST APPEARANCE . 146 A FATHER’S ADVICE . 149 HOW SALVINI STUDIED HIS ART . 150 FAULTS IN ACTING . 152 THE DESIRE TO EXCEL IN EVERYTHING . 154 A MODEL FOR OTHELLO . 155 FIRST TRIP TO THE UNITED STATES 156 IN CUBA . 159 APPEARANCE IN LONDON . 160 IMPRESSIONS OF IRVING’S “HAMLET” 161 THE DECLINE OF TRAGEDY . 163 TRAGEDY IN TWO LANGUAGES . 164 AMERICAN CRITICAL TASTE . 169 IMPRESSIONS OF EDWIN BOOTH . 171 ADELAIDE RISTORI 175 FIRST APPEARANCES . 176 SALVINI AND ROSSI . 180 iv APPEARS AS LADY MACBETH . 181 AS MANAGER . 182 FIRST VISIT TO AMERICA . 183 BEGINS TO PLAY IN ENGLISH . 184 THE ACTOR 187 v vi PREFACE A good play gives us in miniature a cross- section of life, heightened by plot and charac- terisation, by witty and compact dialogue. Of course we should honour first the playwright, who has given form to each well-knit act and telling scene. But that worthy man, perhaps at this moment sipping his coffee at the Au- thors’ Club, gave his drama its form only; its substance is created by the men and women who, with sympathy, intelligence and grace, embody with convincing power the hero and heroine, assassin and accomplice, lover and jilt. For the success of many a play their writ- ers would be quick to acknowledge a further and initial debt, both in suggestion and crit- icism, to the artists who know from experi- ence on the boards that deeds should be done, not talked about, that action is cardinal, with no other words than naturally spring from ac- tion. Players, too, not seldom remind authors that every incident should not only be inter- esting in itself, but take the play a stride for- ward through the entanglement and unrav- elling of its plot. It is altogether probable that the heights to which Shakespeare rose 1 2 LITTLE MASTERPIECES as a dramatist were due in a measure to his knowledge of how a comedy, or a tragedy, ap- pears behind as well as in front of the foot- lights, all in an atmosphere quite other than that surrounding a poet at his desk. This lit- tle volume begins with part of the life story of Joseph Jefferson, chief of American comedi- ans. Then we are privileged to read a few per- sonal letters from Edwin Booth, the acknowl- edged king of the tragic stage. He is followed by the queen in the same dramatic realm, Charlotte Cushman. Next are two chapters by the first emotional actress of her day in America, Clara Morris. When she bows her adieu, Sir Henry Irving comes upon the plat- form instead of the stage, and in the course of his thoughtful discourse makes it plain how he won renown both as an actor and a man- ager. He is followed by his son, Mr. Henry Brodribb Irving, clearly an heir to his father’s talents in art and in observation. Miss Ellen Terry, long Sir Henry Irving’s leading lady, now tells us how she came to join his com- pany, and what she thinks of Sir Henry Irv- ing in his principal rôles. The succeeding word comes from Richard Mansfield, whose untimely death is mourned by every lover of the drama. The next pages are from the hand of Tommaso Salvini, admittedly the greatest Othello and Samson that ever trod the boards. A few words, in closing, are from Adelaide Ristori, whose Medea, Myrrha and Phaedra are among the great traditions of the modern stage. From first to last this little book sheds light on the severe toil demanded for excel- PREFACE 3 lence on the stage, and reveals that for the highest success of a drama, author and artist must work hand in hand. 4 LITTLE MASTERPIECES JOSEPH JEFFERSON [William Winter, the dramatic critic of the New York Tribune, in 1894 wrote the “Life and Art of Joseph Jefferson,” published by the Macmillan Company, London and New York. He gives an ac- count of Jefferson’s lineage, and then says: “In Joseph Jefferson, fourth of the line, famous as Rip Van Winkle, and destined to be long remembered by that name in dramatic history, there is an obvious union of the salient quali- ties of his ancestors. The rustic luxu- riance, manly vigour, careless and ad- venturous disposition of the first Jef- ferson; the refined intellect, delicate sensibility, dry humour, and gentle tenderness of the second; and the ami- able, philosophic, and drifting temper- ament of the third, reappear in this descendant. But more than any of his ancestors, and more than most of his contemporaries, the present Jeffer- son is an originator in the art of act- ing. Joseph Jefferson is as distinct as Lamb among essayists, or George 5 6 LITTLE MASTERPIECES Darley among lyrical poets. No actor of the past prefigured him, . and no name, in the teeming annals of mod- ern art, has shone with a more tran- quil lustre, or can be more confidently committed to the esteem of posterity.” The Autobiography of Joseph Jefferson, copyright, 1889, 1890, by the Century Company, New York, was published 1891. From its chapters, by per- mission, have been taken these pages.—Ed.] HOW I CAME TO PLAY RIP VAN WINKLE The hope of entering the race for dramatic fame as an individual and single attraction never came into my head until, in 1858, I acted Asa Trenchard in “Our American Cousin”; but as the curtain descended the first night on that remarkably successful play, vi- sions of large type, foreign countries, and in- creased remuneration floated before me, and I resolved to be a star if I could. A resolution to this effect is easily made; its accomplishment is quite another matter. Art has always been my sweetheart, and I have loved her for herself alone. I had fan- cied that our affection was mutual, so that when I failed as a star, which I certainly did, I thought she had jilted me. Not so. I wronged her. She only reminded me that I had taken too great a liberty, and that if I expected to win her I must press my suit with more pa- JOSEPH JEFFERSON 7 tience. Checked, but undaunted in the re- solve, my mind dwelt upon my vision, and I still indulged in day-dreams of the future. During these delightful reveries it came up before me that in acting Asa Trenchard I had, for the first time in my life on the stage, spo- ken a pathetic speech; and though I did not look at the audience during the time I was acting—for that is dreadful—I felt that they both laughed and cried. I had before this often made my audience smile, but never until now had I moved them to tears. This to me novel accomplishment was delightful, and in cast- ing about for a new character my mind was ever dwelling on reproducing an effect where humour would be so closely allied to pathos that smiles and tears should mingle with each other. Where could I get one? There had been many written, and as I looked back into the dramatic history of the past a long line of lovely ghosts loomed up before me, pass- ing as in a procession: Job Thornberry, Bob Tyke, Frank Ostland, Zekiel Homespun, and a host of departed heroes “with martial stalk went by my watch.” Charming fellows all, but not for me, I felt I could not do them justice.