DOI issue:
March 27, 1880
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17763#0141
head, and sways himself Jorward and hack.) Oh. dear, no—not at
all—not at all! Ha ! ha! ha ! (Laughs—then resumes very quietly,
and smiling cheerfully)—On the contrary, you ’re very good. boys.
As my friend, Mr. Palgrave Simpson, would say, “ Lawk-a-mussy,
I never saw such very admirable hoys!” {“Hear! hear!” and
laughter. Lecturer smiles, and continues)—Let me see—um—{con-
siders)—suppose we take, as the subject of this lecture—costume—
yes—costume—{rubs his chin thoughtfully)—or—business—um ?
Suppose we say business. Of course I mean “ stage business.” We
might take business first, and—{smiling cheerfully)—pleasure after-
wards. Um ? {Laughing benignly, and looking round the room at
the class gradually.) Business first—and—pleasure afterwards.
(Thoroughly satisfied so far.) Very well. Or—stop a moment—
{reflects—regards the properties on the table)—Ah—yes—the use of
“properties.” We might consider that first—unless—no—{makes
up his mind suddenly)—no—we ’ll begin with stage-business. {Puts
his hands behind him, as if he were a boy at school ordered to say
some lines off by heart, then throws his head back, looks at the ceiling,
opens his mouth as if about to deliver himself oracularly, then
pauses. Disappointment of the class. Then he begins) , . On the
stage, Gentlemen, there is such a fault as overcarefulness—of being
guilty of the untradesmanlike—(smiles apologetically as he repeats)
—the untradesmanlike falsehood of too strict an attention to business
{appears pleased, hums part of a tune quietly to himself then
resumes).
To worry yourself as to what you shall he doing when the Author
has given you nothing to do,—what you shall pretend to he saying
when the stage direction sets down of such and such a character that
he “talks apart with Mrs. So-and-So,”—to trouble yourself about the
use of a pocket-handkerchief, as to which pocket you shall use, or
whether you shall use any, or whether you shall stir the fire or only
stand on the hearth-rug without stirring—{smiles pleasantly and
bows)—I don’t mean without moving, but without stirring the fire—
which action, if often repeated, would make it a very stirring part—
{throws his head back and laughs suddenly)—ha ! ha !—{reduces his
hearty laugh to an amiable smile as he repeats) —a very stirring
part. {“Hear! hear!” and laughter.) Um—(considers)—well,
Gentlemen—{looks about-, suddenly recalls to mind his subject)—Oh,
yes, of course, I was saying, if you bother yourself about these-
minutiae—{pauses and considers whether he is right in saying
minutice, or whether it oughtn't to be “ minutia ”—decides on choosing
another word}—about these insignificant details, you ’ll never he a
great Actor.
When an Actor is once imbued with the spirit of the part he has to
play, all his movements come spontaneously, and he need never trouble
himself off the Stage with thinking how he will behave on it. Wasn’t
it the great Mrs. Siddons— {doubtfully)—I think it was the great
Mrs. Siddons, who, let me see—(thinks over it)—yes, of course, she
never troubled her head with what she was going to do as Lady
Macbeth, or how she was going to do it, but, putting down her—her
—let me see—yes—{reflects)—yes, it was knitting she used to do-
yes, putting down her knitting, she would go on to the stage and
become at once Lady Macbeth. {Cheers.) We hear a great deal
about “ study.” Well, um—{bending himself angularly and looking
up at nothing in particular, then still with his hands, behind him,
giving a side-glance at his auditory ivithout changing his position)—L
can’t see the necessity of study. If you get your words by heart as
well as by head—{altering his position to another graceful curve, and
taking another three-quarter side-ways look at. his class)—as well as
by head, then, all you’ve got to do—{elevating his eyebrows, con-
fronting the audience, opening his mouth, and throwing up his hands)
-—is, to play it! {Shuts his mouth suddenly, he retains his attitude
during the applause which folloivs, and then swaying himself round,
replaces his hands behind him and resumes)—um, yes—{smiling)—I
think so,—don’t study, let the business come naturally. Let me see
— {meditates)—yes—“Reading and acting come by nature, so give
Heaven thanks and make no boast.” (Smiles, elevates his eyebrows,.
hums a snatch of a melody, loses himself m thought—finds himself
again, and resumes.)
A good entrance, Gentlemen, is of considerable importance, but a
good exit is better. If you come in like a lamb, take care to go out
like a lion. (“ Hear, hear ' ”) Hot too much like a lion, however.
Do not reserve all your force for your exit. Avoid plain level;
acting throughout developing into a noisy climax. Against that
you need no warning. If you are unable to make a point by a quiet
exit, you will never force an effect on an audience by suddenly
March 27, 1880.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 135
LEADING THE FIELD.
Jealous O'-d Whip {coming up). “Why, Master Fred, how came you here?”
Master Fred. “ I always wait down Wind. Where were you, Jim?”
all—not at all! Ha ! ha! ha ! (Laughs—then resumes very quietly,
and smiling cheerfully)—On the contrary, you ’re very good. boys.
As my friend, Mr. Palgrave Simpson, would say, “ Lawk-a-mussy,
I never saw such very admirable hoys!” {“Hear! hear!” and
laughter. Lecturer smiles, and continues)—Let me see—um—{con-
siders)—suppose we take, as the subject of this lecture—costume—
yes—costume—{rubs his chin thoughtfully)—or—business—um ?
Suppose we say business. Of course I mean “ stage business.” We
might take business first, and—{smiling cheerfully)—pleasure after-
wards. Um ? {Laughing benignly, and looking round the room at
the class gradually.) Business first—and—pleasure afterwards.
(Thoroughly satisfied so far.) Very well. Or—stop a moment—
{reflects—regards the properties on the table)—Ah—yes—the use of
“properties.” We might consider that first—unless—no—{makes
up his mind suddenly)—no—we ’ll begin with stage-business. {Puts
his hands behind him, as if he were a boy at school ordered to say
some lines off by heart, then throws his head back, looks at the ceiling,
opens his mouth as if about to deliver himself oracularly, then
pauses. Disappointment of the class. Then he begins) , . On the
stage, Gentlemen, there is such a fault as overcarefulness—of being
guilty of the untradesmanlike—(smiles apologetically as he repeats)
—the untradesmanlike falsehood of too strict an attention to business
{appears pleased, hums part of a tune quietly to himself then
resumes).
To worry yourself as to what you shall he doing when the Author
has given you nothing to do,—what you shall pretend to he saying
when the stage direction sets down of such and such a character that
he “talks apart with Mrs. So-and-So,”—to trouble yourself about the
use of a pocket-handkerchief, as to which pocket you shall use, or
whether you shall use any, or whether you shall stir the fire or only
stand on the hearth-rug without stirring—{smiles pleasantly and
bows)—I don’t mean without moving, but without stirring the fire—
which action, if often repeated, would make it a very stirring part—
{throws his head back and laughs suddenly)—ha ! ha !—{reduces his
hearty laugh to an amiable smile as he repeats) —a very stirring
part. {“Hear! hear!” and laughter.) Um—(considers)—well,
Gentlemen—{looks about-, suddenly recalls to mind his subject)—Oh,
yes, of course, I was saying, if you bother yourself about these-
minutiae—{pauses and considers whether he is right in saying
minutice, or whether it oughtn't to be “ minutia ”—decides on choosing
another word}—about these insignificant details, you ’ll never he a
great Actor.
When an Actor is once imbued with the spirit of the part he has to
play, all his movements come spontaneously, and he need never trouble
himself off the Stage with thinking how he will behave on it. Wasn’t
it the great Mrs. Siddons— {doubtfully)—I think it was the great
Mrs. Siddons, who, let me see—(thinks over it)—yes, of course, she
never troubled her head with what she was going to do as Lady
Macbeth, or how she was going to do it, but, putting down her—her
—let me see—yes—{reflects)—yes, it was knitting she used to do-
yes, putting down her knitting, she would go on to the stage and
become at once Lady Macbeth. {Cheers.) We hear a great deal
about “ study.” Well, um—{bending himself angularly and looking
up at nothing in particular, then still with his hands, behind him,
giving a side-glance at his auditory ivithout changing his position)—L
can’t see the necessity of study. If you get your words by heart as
well as by head—{altering his position to another graceful curve, and
taking another three-quarter side-ways look at. his class)—as well as
by head, then, all you’ve got to do—{elevating his eyebrows, con-
fronting the audience, opening his mouth, and throwing up his hands)
-—is, to play it! {Shuts his mouth suddenly, he retains his attitude
during the applause which folloivs, and then swaying himself round,
replaces his hands behind him and resumes)—um, yes—{smiling)—I
think so,—don’t study, let the business come naturally. Let me see
— {meditates)—yes—“Reading and acting come by nature, so give
Heaven thanks and make no boast.” (Smiles, elevates his eyebrows,.
hums a snatch of a melody, loses himself m thought—finds himself
again, and resumes.)
A good entrance, Gentlemen, is of considerable importance, but a
good exit is better. If you come in like a lamb, take care to go out
like a lion. (“ Hear, hear ' ”) Hot too much like a lion, however.
Do not reserve all your force for your exit. Avoid plain level;
acting throughout developing into a noisy climax. Against that
you need no warning. If you are unable to make a point by a quiet
exit, you will never force an effect on an audience by suddenly
March 27, 1880.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 135
LEADING THE FIELD.
Jealous O'-d Whip {coming up). “Why, Master Fred, how came you here?”
Master Fred. “ I always wait down Wind. Where were you, Jim?”