DOI issue:
January 28, 1865
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16875#0049
January 28, 1865.1
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
41
MR. PUNCH’S HANDY-BOOK OF THE STAGE.
CHAP. VIII.—THE FIRST OLD MAN.
she Actor who plays this line
of business should be cau-
tioned against putting up
with an inferior part, be-
cause it happens to be the
best Old Man in the piece.
There is, or ought to be, a
“ second old man ” in every
properly constituted com-
pany, whose business it is
to play all the old men’s
parts you do not think good
enough for you.
The French rule is, that
the first old man is bound
to take the best old man’s
part in every piece acted.
The melancholy conse-
quence of this tyrannical
rule is, that in France we
often see excellent actors of
old men going on for parts
of a few lengths, figuring
perhaps only in a single
scene, and yet—such is the
effect of that submission to
central authority which per-
meates everything in that
country, from the Tuileries
to the smallest suburban theatre —dressed and made up as carefully for
such a part, and taking ]ust as much pains with it, as if it were one
really wortii playing. Strange to say, the audience do not indignantly
protest against this abuse of talent, but take it quite as a matter of
course.
Authors, I need hardly say, having once been conceded to in this way
will expect, and even insist upon the sacrifice, unless firmly met at the
outset. It will be a sad day for the English stage, when we come to see
pieces cast, not with reference to the Actor’s position, but with an
exclusive regard to effective representation.
I introduce these remarks apropos of the “ first old man,” because
there is no other line of business in which there is such a disposition
among: Authors and Managers to thrust second-best business on leading
shoulders, the “ old man ” being rarely the chief figure in the picture,
and it being, of course, the object of these persons to strengthen the
cast, without any regard to the Actor’s feelings.
In fitting yourself to play old men, do not lose your time in studying
the bewildering varieties of age which you will see about you. To such
a study there would be no end, and the result of it would merely be a
reflection of what everybody can see without paying for it. Instead of
thus distracting and distressing yourself, determine, early, what eminent
Actor of old men you will imitate, and study his manner, make up,
looks, gestures and peculiarities.
You will find helps to such study among the conscientious preservers
of stage tradition in theatrical clubs, Bow Street taverns, and Covent,
Garden cigar-divans, as well as among the old actors or hangers-on of
country theatres, among whom a wealth of such traditionary lore is
still hoarded. Books of biography and theatrical prints will also do
much for you; and few places of theatrical resort but boast of an
imitator, who will be still able to give you a picture of Dowton or
Bartley, Farren or Strickland, as well as of the favourites of the
hour.
Having thus chosen your model, according to your taste, or physique,
stick to it. If you have a tall slender figure, with a turn for the quiet
and gentlemanlike, can make up clean, and afford a good modern
wardrobe, the late Mr. W. Barren will, of course, be your model.
You will carefully cultivate the trick of his thin, high voice, his gentle-
manlike walk, his little chuckle, the delicate action of his hand. One
difficulty in imitating this Actor arises from the subtlety of his imperso-
nations and his great economy of resources, in which he approached
dangerously near the French ideal. It is sadly to be feared that he
wasted much time in the observation of real life, and was refined to a
dangerous degree. But we need not dwell on these blemishes, in speak-
ing of one, who, in spite of such faults, was still an artist. Besides, as
you have only to copy his copy, you will escape all the labour he
bestowed in selecting his originals from life; and any over-refinement,
or under colouring with which he may have been chargeable, you will,
of course, remove in your copy.
If you are of a more burly person, with a fuller voice, and a more
blunt and jovial turn of humour, approaching to the true John Bull
type, you will avoid Farren, and imitate Bartley.
If unctuous humour be your forte. Dowton is your model; though
the traditions of him, it is to be feared, are waxing rather faint.
Luckily, Strickland is still completely within living memory, and good
imitations of him may still be easily met with, and may replace those of
Dowton. W. Bennett may also be referred to, as, in some points,
the continuer down to our times of the hard and jerky school of
Fawcett.
You will, of course, study the peculiarities of dress most affected by
your model.
It is to be feared that in no line of business is the modern itch for
realism and dangerous imitation of actual life making more rapid and
visible strides than in the “ old men.” The low-crowned, broad-
brimmed hat, so long invariably worn by the elderly merchant, banker,
or country gentleman, is disappearing. Neck-cloths are diminishing in
volume, length of ends, and eccentricity of tie. The long-established
scratch-wigs are seriously threatened. The loyal adhesion to the
costume of the early part of Geore the Third’s reign, which was
formerly expected of all old men, is now broken without apology on the
actor’s part, or protest on that of the public. Top-boots are becoming
as rare in tbe theatre as in real life; and even the traditional bailiff, if
ever introduced, is represented in a common paletot, trousers, and
high-lows, instead of the square-cut, broad-lapelled coat, red waistcoat,
breeches, and mahogany tops, which properly belong to the character.
The old man of the stage is, indeed, outwardly in danger of sinking
down into a copy of the old man of real life ; but, happily, the tradition
of the theatre preserves those venerable traits of stage manners, voice,
walk, action, which abundantly distinguish the old man of the playhouse
from the old man of society, even though their husks approximate.
Thanks to it, the stage old man, whatever he looks like, has only to
speak and move (in nine cases out of ten), for us to feel that in this line
of business “ realism,” if it have won the outworks, has not yet pene-
trated to the heart of the citadel.
The traditional “ make-up ” of the old man helps to give him this
symbolical character.
One has heard absurd stories of the length of time and elaborate study
employed by French actors of old men in colouring and making up their
faces, as though the Actor’s countenance was a canvas, on which a
particular face had to be painted.
Our theatre dispenses with this minute and slavish labour. Every
Actor of old men can acquire in a few nights’ observation and practice
the art of putting on the recognised wrinkles and crows’-feet which
belong to this line of business.
Having mastered these, he will take as much care to avoid comparison
of his own face with those of living old men as Don Quixote did to avoid
putting his second vizor to test of sword-stroke, after having ruined the
first, by a rash trial-blow.
Such comparison would be sure to confuse, and might even put you
out of conceit with yourself—a thing carefully to be avoided by every
Actor, and especially by the Actor ol old men, as he is obliged, unfor-
tunately, to renounce the hope of looking lovely, and cannot go in for
lady-killing.
A TRULY GREAT CATCH.
(matrimonial.)
The Advertiser is a young man enjoying great personal advantages,
and the still greater advantage of immense wealth bequeathed to him
by a rich uncle. He is anxious to devote the whole of his property to
the one sole purpose of making a beautiful creature happy. This young
man, therefore, is anxious to contract a matrimonial alliance with some
young lady whose personal attractions are very great, and whose
capacity of enjoyment is unbounded. He wishes to share the affluence
with which he has been blessed with one who is passionately fond of
dress, and especially of diamonds and other costly jewellery He would
like her to devote the whole of her attention to the decoration of her
person, and would wish to see her spend the greater part of the day in
trying on things, and contemplating herself in the looking-glass, or
rather in the pier-glasses which he would take care to provide for her
use. She would please him most by going every evening to balls and
concerts, or the opera, and doing her utmost to outshine everybody in
the room or the theatre. He would have her enthusiastically devoted
to dancing, and delighted to ride about in a carriage, with a splendid
coachman in front, and two magnificent footmen behind, she herself
being attired in the extreme of fashion. When occasionally indisposed,
he would be glad for her to insist on going to the sea-side, and lodging
in the first hotel there, and he would be delighted by her making him
take her, every now and then, to Paris, Baden-Baden, Homburg, or
Rome. For further particulars apply at 85, Fleet Street.
N.B. Mutual qualifications or acquirements not necessary. No taste
for poetry required, nor any love of music, beyond what is strictly
fashionable. _
A Truly Admirable Crichton.—Our acquaintance includes a very
handsome young man. His prudence is on a par with his personal
appearance, and he carefully files all his love-letters.
Y ol. 48.
2—2
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
41
MR. PUNCH’S HANDY-BOOK OF THE STAGE.
CHAP. VIII.—THE FIRST OLD MAN.
she Actor who plays this line
of business should be cau-
tioned against putting up
with an inferior part, be-
cause it happens to be the
best Old Man in the piece.
There is, or ought to be, a
“ second old man ” in every
properly constituted com-
pany, whose business it is
to play all the old men’s
parts you do not think good
enough for you.
The French rule is, that
the first old man is bound
to take the best old man’s
part in every piece acted.
The melancholy conse-
quence of this tyrannical
rule is, that in France we
often see excellent actors of
old men going on for parts
of a few lengths, figuring
perhaps only in a single
scene, and yet—such is the
effect of that submission to
central authority which per-
meates everything in that
country, from the Tuileries
to the smallest suburban theatre —dressed and made up as carefully for
such a part, and taking ]ust as much pains with it, as if it were one
really wortii playing. Strange to say, the audience do not indignantly
protest against this abuse of talent, but take it quite as a matter of
course.
Authors, I need hardly say, having once been conceded to in this way
will expect, and even insist upon the sacrifice, unless firmly met at the
outset. It will be a sad day for the English stage, when we come to see
pieces cast, not with reference to the Actor’s position, but with an
exclusive regard to effective representation.
I introduce these remarks apropos of the “ first old man,” because
there is no other line of business in which there is such a disposition
among: Authors and Managers to thrust second-best business on leading
shoulders, the “ old man ” being rarely the chief figure in the picture,
and it being, of course, the object of these persons to strengthen the
cast, without any regard to the Actor’s feelings.
In fitting yourself to play old men, do not lose your time in studying
the bewildering varieties of age which you will see about you. To such
a study there would be no end, and the result of it would merely be a
reflection of what everybody can see without paying for it. Instead of
thus distracting and distressing yourself, determine, early, what eminent
Actor of old men you will imitate, and study his manner, make up,
looks, gestures and peculiarities.
You will find helps to such study among the conscientious preservers
of stage tradition in theatrical clubs, Bow Street taverns, and Covent,
Garden cigar-divans, as well as among the old actors or hangers-on of
country theatres, among whom a wealth of such traditionary lore is
still hoarded. Books of biography and theatrical prints will also do
much for you; and few places of theatrical resort but boast of an
imitator, who will be still able to give you a picture of Dowton or
Bartley, Farren or Strickland, as well as of the favourites of the
hour.
Having thus chosen your model, according to your taste, or physique,
stick to it. If you have a tall slender figure, with a turn for the quiet
and gentlemanlike, can make up clean, and afford a good modern
wardrobe, the late Mr. W. Barren will, of course, be your model.
You will carefully cultivate the trick of his thin, high voice, his gentle-
manlike walk, his little chuckle, the delicate action of his hand. One
difficulty in imitating this Actor arises from the subtlety of his imperso-
nations and his great economy of resources, in which he approached
dangerously near the French ideal. It is sadly to be feared that he
wasted much time in the observation of real life, and was refined to a
dangerous degree. But we need not dwell on these blemishes, in speak-
ing of one, who, in spite of such faults, was still an artist. Besides, as
you have only to copy his copy, you will escape all the labour he
bestowed in selecting his originals from life; and any over-refinement,
or under colouring with which he may have been chargeable, you will,
of course, remove in your copy.
If you are of a more burly person, with a fuller voice, and a more
blunt and jovial turn of humour, approaching to the true John Bull
type, you will avoid Farren, and imitate Bartley.
If unctuous humour be your forte. Dowton is your model; though
the traditions of him, it is to be feared, are waxing rather faint.
Luckily, Strickland is still completely within living memory, and good
imitations of him may still be easily met with, and may replace those of
Dowton. W. Bennett may also be referred to, as, in some points,
the continuer down to our times of the hard and jerky school of
Fawcett.
You will, of course, study the peculiarities of dress most affected by
your model.
It is to be feared that in no line of business is the modern itch for
realism and dangerous imitation of actual life making more rapid and
visible strides than in the “ old men.” The low-crowned, broad-
brimmed hat, so long invariably worn by the elderly merchant, banker,
or country gentleman, is disappearing. Neck-cloths are diminishing in
volume, length of ends, and eccentricity of tie. The long-established
scratch-wigs are seriously threatened. The loyal adhesion to the
costume of the early part of Geore the Third’s reign, which was
formerly expected of all old men, is now broken without apology on the
actor’s part, or protest on that of the public. Top-boots are becoming
as rare in tbe theatre as in real life; and even the traditional bailiff, if
ever introduced, is represented in a common paletot, trousers, and
high-lows, instead of the square-cut, broad-lapelled coat, red waistcoat,
breeches, and mahogany tops, which properly belong to the character.
The old man of the stage is, indeed, outwardly in danger of sinking
down into a copy of the old man of real life ; but, happily, the tradition
of the theatre preserves those venerable traits of stage manners, voice,
walk, action, which abundantly distinguish the old man of the playhouse
from the old man of society, even though their husks approximate.
Thanks to it, the stage old man, whatever he looks like, has only to
speak and move (in nine cases out of ten), for us to feel that in this line
of business “ realism,” if it have won the outworks, has not yet pene-
trated to the heart of the citadel.
The traditional “ make-up ” of the old man helps to give him this
symbolical character.
One has heard absurd stories of the length of time and elaborate study
employed by French actors of old men in colouring and making up their
faces, as though the Actor’s countenance was a canvas, on which a
particular face had to be painted.
Our theatre dispenses with this minute and slavish labour. Every
Actor of old men can acquire in a few nights’ observation and practice
the art of putting on the recognised wrinkles and crows’-feet which
belong to this line of business.
Having mastered these, he will take as much care to avoid comparison
of his own face with those of living old men as Don Quixote did to avoid
putting his second vizor to test of sword-stroke, after having ruined the
first, by a rash trial-blow.
Such comparison would be sure to confuse, and might even put you
out of conceit with yourself—a thing carefully to be avoided by every
Actor, and especially by the Actor ol old men, as he is obliged, unfor-
tunately, to renounce the hope of looking lovely, and cannot go in for
lady-killing.
A TRULY GREAT CATCH.
(matrimonial.)
The Advertiser is a young man enjoying great personal advantages,
and the still greater advantage of immense wealth bequeathed to him
by a rich uncle. He is anxious to devote the whole of his property to
the one sole purpose of making a beautiful creature happy. This young
man, therefore, is anxious to contract a matrimonial alliance with some
young lady whose personal attractions are very great, and whose
capacity of enjoyment is unbounded. He wishes to share the affluence
with which he has been blessed with one who is passionately fond of
dress, and especially of diamonds and other costly jewellery He would
like her to devote the whole of her attention to the decoration of her
person, and would wish to see her spend the greater part of the day in
trying on things, and contemplating herself in the looking-glass, or
rather in the pier-glasses which he would take care to provide for her
use. She would please him most by going every evening to balls and
concerts, or the opera, and doing her utmost to outshine everybody in
the room or the theatre. He would have her enthusiastically devoted
to dancing, and delighted to ride about in a carriage, with a splendid
coachman in front, and two magnificent footmen behind, she herself
being attired in the extreme of fashion. When occasionally indisposed,
he would be glad for her to insist on going to the sea-side, and lodging
in the first hotel there, and he would be delighted by her making him
take her, every now and then, to Paris, Baden-Baden, Homburg, or
Rome. For further particulars apply at 85, Fleet Street.
N.B. Mutual qualifications or acquirements not necessary. No taste
for poetry required, nor any love of music, beyond what is strictly
fashionable. _
A Truly Admirable Crichton.—Our acquaintance includes a very
handsome young man. His prudence is on a par with his personal
appearance, and he carefully files all his love-letters.
Y ol. 48.
2—2