I have seen impulsive actors who were so confident of their power that
they left all to chance. This is a dangerous course, especially when
acting a new character. I will admit that there are many instances
where great effects have been produced that were entirely spontaneous,
and were as much a surprise to the actors who made them as they were
to the audience who witnessed them; but just as individuals who have
exuberant spirits are at times dreadfully depressed, so when an
impulsive actor fails to receive his inspiration he is dull indeed,
and is the more disappointing because of his former brilliant
achievements.
In the stage management of a play, or in the acting of a part, nothing
should be left to chance, and for the reason that spontaneity,
inspiration, or whatever the strange and delightful quality may be
called, is not to be commanded, or we should give it some other name.
It is, therefore, better that a clear and unmistakable outline of a
character should be drawn before an actor undertakes a new part. If
he has a well-ordered and an artistic mind it is likely that he will
give at least a symmetrical and effective performance; but should he
make no definite arrangement, and depend upon our ghostly friends
Spontaneity and Inspiration to pay him a visit, and should they
decline to call, the actor will be in a maze and his audience in a
muddle.
Besides, why not prepare to receive our mysterious friends whether
they come or not? If they fail on such an invitation, we can at least
entertain our other guests without them, and if they do appear, our
preconceived arrangements will give them a better welcome and put them
more at ease.
Acting under these purely artificial conditions will necessarily be
cold, but the care with which the part is given will at least render
it inoffensive; they are, therefore, primary considerations, and not
to be despised. The exhibition, however, of artistic care does not
alone constitute great acting. The inspired warmth of passion in
tragedy and the sudden glow of humour in comedy cover the artificial
framework with an impenetrable veil: this is the very climax of great
art, for which there seems to be no other name but genius. It is
then, and then only, that an audience feels that it is in the presence
of a reality rather than a fiction. To an audience an ounce of genius
has more weight than a ton of talent; for though it respects the
latter, it reverences the former. But the creative power, divine as
it may be, should in common gratitude pay due regard to the
reflective; for Art is the handmaid of Genius, and only asks the
modest wages of respectful consideration in payment for her valuable
services. A splendid torrent of genius ought never to be checked, but
it should be wisely guided into the deep channel of the stream, from
whose surface it will then reflect Nature without a ripple. Genius
dyes the hues that resemble those of the rainbow; Art fixes the
colours that they may stand. In the race for fame purely artificial
actors cannot hope to win against those whose genius is guided by
their art; and, on the other hand, Intuition must not complain if,
unbridled or with too loose a rein, it stumbles on the course, and so
allows a well-ridden hack to distance it.