A SCHOOL OF DRAMATIC ART.
THERE is something touching in the British faith in education ; perhaps, as it is a faith that came to the British public rather late in life, it has for that reason taken a stronger hold upon them. Their discovery that the arts of music and painting could only be practised at the cost of a long and laborious training, was a comparatively recent one ; but, to do them justice, when they did make the discovery, they acted upon their newly acquired knowledge with most laudable and generous promptitude, and may fairly hope now to be repaid for the aid and encouragement that they have given—not always very wisely, but lavishly enough—to the young beginners who have shown talent or inclination for those two crafts. In the meantime, however, they are disposed to wonder whether all the Muses would not be the better for a little early instruction, and are actively looking out for new fields for their educational energy and patronage. The educa- tion of the poet, the novelist, and the man of letters in general, they seem agreed to leave for the present in abeyance,— possibly because their cases present peculiar difficulties, but more probably from a prudent fear of increasing the number of those aspirants to fame. But with regard to the actor, they are grievously vexing their souls to know whether he should go to school or not. If anywhere there is a man who is clearly in need of instruction, it is the British actor ; the average British actor, that is to say, for we would not speak of individuals, but only of the actor in general. We may shut our eyes, and believe that the British artists are the greatest in the world; we may shut our ears, and believe that no sweeter music can charm us than that of British origin; but whether we shut our ears or our eyes, we cannot fancy that the British actor is the best. Therefore he should go to school. But we are a prudent and a cautious people, and have no intention of paying for lessons in an art which cannot be taught, and for this reason we are anxiously deliberating the question as to whether the teaching would have any good result. Well, we ourselves have a great faith in the common- sense of the British public, and are disposed to think the actor will not be sent to school.
One of the chief reasons that are urged in favour of this new scheme of education, is the fact that the French theatre is better provided with actors than the English, and the French, in their Conservatoire, possess a school for the dramatic art. We do not deny that the average of dramatic talent in France is very much higher than in England; but we are also convinced that the French arc the better actors in spite of, and not by reason of, their Conservatoire, and that such a school, which might have hindered even them had it not been for their extraordinary natural genius, would prove quite fatal to any English progress. Not only have the French a natural aptitude for acting, but they have also a natural inclination towards originality that tempts them to break away from the hard-and-fast rules imposed upon them by tradition. It is just possible that, in their case, the influence of the Comedic Frangaise and the Conservatoire may have been exercised beneficially in restraining their excesses of imagination. We, on the other hand, are not given by nature either to acting or to disobedience to recognised rules ; what we do possess is a perfect genius for mediocrity, and were that mediocrity once favoured by rules and traditions that tended to bring all acting to the same level, we should never emerge from it at all. We are, as it is, great sticklers for tradi- tion; we have an immense respect for authority ; and we should speedily convert a British Dramatic School into the most cruel and crippling bondage possible. What has saved the dramatic art of England from becoming a dreary level of second-rate inefficiency, and given us the few good actors of whom we can boast, is the fact that every actor has had to work out his own salvation, and been forced, by want of an authority to lean upon, to depend upon himself, and be original in spite of him- self. If the French School has exercised any beneficial effect upon French acting, it is because it has acted after the fashion of a curb. But our actors do not need a curb ; what they want is the spur. And disastrous as the effect of an authoritative School would prove to the English stage, the result upon an English audience would be more disastrous still. It would destroy absolutely the little critical power that we now possess. So far, we have been obliged to form opinions for ourselves, and be our own law, even as the actors have been their own law; but in matters of art there is a national tendency to seek for a fixed standard of right and wrong, to which we may refer for critical judgment, and so avoid the responsi- bility of passing judgments ourselves ; and an English School of Acting would be hailed with a feeling of relief, and become in our hands a veritable bed of Procrustes, into whose iron limits we should mercilessly strive to fit all talent and originality, The English stage and audience have educated themselves and each other, and have received in that education the very best that can be given, because it is the most elastic. Indeed, it is a moot question whether any other kind of teaching is possible. The opinions that have been given by experts on that subject in the pages of the Daily Graphic are curiously contradictory; and of them all, the two most weighty ones, those of M. Coquelin, eine, of the Comedie Franeaise, and Mr. Beerbohm Tree, .of the English stage, are the two that differ the most widely. According to M. Coquelin, the art of acting can be taught, and has to be taught even to the minutest details. Everything, from the most trivial action to the expression of the most overpowering emotion, should be the result of careful and tedious study and of the conscious reproduction upon the stage of what has been studiously worked out in private ; no art is possible without training, and, he seems inclined to add, all art is possible by training. "Whatever success I have had as an actor," he says, "I attribute entirely to training. Every little detail of my performance and delivery is the result of training, study, and preparation. I leave nothing to inspiration. Inspira- tion might come to me only once a month, and I have to play Comedy every night. I go to a theatre for a first performance entirely without emotion, knowing exactly what I am going to do, and exactly how I am going to do it. Everything that the actor does on the stage should be an net of his volition, and not the result of a blind impulse of emotion." The training to which M. Coquelin refers is that which he himself received from the French Conservatoire and the Comedie Francaise, training in accordance with rules and traditions : and it is to their possession of these laws of acting, that he attributes the superiority of the French actors. Acting in that case is a science, and not an art. It is difficult to believe that M. Coquelin really intends this to be an accurate description of his own method, or that he is serious in his professed disregard for inspiration ; if he does think so, and if he is correct in his opinion, we can only say that he himself is the most marvel- lous automaton, worked by the most marvellons memory, that the world has ever seen. But we, who have enjoyed such keen pleasure from his occasional visits to England, will still permit ourselves to doubt the truth of his theory, partly because our belief in it would rob us of half our pleasure in his admirable performance. Useful and necessary as careful training undoubtedly is, it is neither the beginning nor the end of good acting ; inspiration may come to the actor in the privacy of his study just as well as upon the boards of the stage, and the line between conscious and unconscious volition of action before the footlights is one which an actor himself would find very difficult to draw. No. amount of training can give that inspiration that leads to a true and just interpretation of emotion ; still less can it give that indefinable power, that kind of magnetic influence, that a really great actor exercises over his audience. It is not only that he interprets a character truly, and forces his audience to acknowledge this truth, but he lives the character before them, and makes them live it too,—every gesture, every word, every tone of passion finds a simultaneous echo in their hearts, so that they recognise not only the character in the actor, but them- selves in the character. And to do this, as it seems to us at least, he must lose himself to a certain extent, and forget his own conscious volition, trusting to an almost blind impulse—as M.. Coquelin would call it—which, for aught that we know, may be imposed upon him by the will of the audience. For we take it that a really good actor is swayed by his audience very much in the same measure and after the same fashion as they are swayed by him. Acting, as Mr. Beerbohm Tree very justly says, is a matter of temperament,—a quality inexplicable, and indefinable. A good actor may possess it, consciously or uncon- sciously ; but possess it he must, otherwise he would never get hold of his hearers. Without a due and proper training, that quality is impleasing and almost useless ; but no amount of study and training can make up for the lack of it. Alidsto our minds, Mr. Beerbohm Tree's testimony bears the • greater weight, because his own art is so evidently and closely allied with careful and intelligent study. There are few actors whose success seems so largely owing to training and painrs taking forethought ; but greatly as Mr. Tree may be indebted to study, it is nothing to the debt that be owes to his own natural temperament.
A School of Dramatic Art might be useful in teaching the elementary rudiments, the grammar, so to speak, of their profession, to young beginners. Delivery, elocution,. gesture, even the most ordinary movements upon the stage, , have all to be learnt, and cannot be acquired without patient study and practice ; but this elementary knowledge, that is. , requisite to a theatrical education, is picked up far more quickly on the stage itself than elsewhere. Fencing, dancing,. and the usages of good society, are all things that are worthy of an actor's study,—but; surely he may be trusted to seek their knowledge for himself. As for all the rest,—the best school that an actor can frequent is the world, the best master is himself, and the best examination is that which he passes before a public audience. It is claimed by the supporters of this educational scheme that a great many incompetent people, will be prevented by it from entering upon a profession for which they are not suited ; whereas we believe a Dramatic, School would foster the already large number of actors that never will advance beyond a respectable mediocrity. With regard to the handing down of the traditions of great actors. to future generations, it would be far more efficacious and much more simple to trust to the phonograph at once. The art of acting cannot be transmitted from one age to another, like thw- art of painting. Ideas that are dependent upon tradition for their preservation have a tendency to deteriorate ; it is only their most salient points, generally the faults and blemishes, that survive. With all its faults, the English stage has acquired a certain stamp and character of its Own: do not let us throw away the merits that it does possess by the adoption of insti- tutions for which we are utterly unsuited, and. which, we believe, are already beginning to give dissatisfaction in the country from which we would borrow them.
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