You will read and hear, no doubt, in your experience, that acting is
in reality no art at all, that it is mere sedulous copying of nature,
demanding neither thought nor originality. I will only cite in reply
a passage from a letter of the poet Coleridge to the elder Charles
Mathews, which, I venture to think, goes some way to settle the
question. "A great actor," he writes, "comic or tragic, is not to be
a mere copy, a fac-simile, but an imitation of nature; now an
imitation differs from a copy in this, that it of necessity implies
and demands a difference, whereas a copy aims at identity and what a
marble peach on the mantelpiece, that you take up deluded and put down
with a pettish disgust, is compared with a fruit-piece of Vanhuysen's,
even such is a mere copy of nature, with a true histrionic imitation.
A good actor is Pygmalion's statue, a work of exquisite art, animated
and gifted with motion; but still art, still a species of poetry." So
writes Coleridge. Raphael, speaking of painting, expresses the same
thought, equally applicable to the art of acting. "To paint a fair
one," he says, "it is necessary for me to see many fair ones; but
because there is so great a scarcity of lovely women, I am constrained
to make use of one certain ideal, which I have formed to myself in my
own fancy." So the actor who has to portray Hamlet, Othello,
Macbeth--any great dramatic character--has to form an ideal of such a
character in his own fancy, in fact, to employ an exercise of
imagination similar to that of the painter who seeks to depict an
ideal man or woman; the actor certainly will not meet his types of
Hamlet and Othello in the street.
But, whilst in your hearts you should cherish a firm respect for the
calling, the art you pursue, let that respect be a silent and modest
regard; it will be all the stronger for that. I have known actors and
actresses who were always talking about their art with a big A, their
"art-life," their "life-work," their careers and futures, and so on.
Keep these things to yourselves, for I have observed that eloquence
and hyper-earnestness of this kind not infrequently go with rather
disappointing achievement. Think, act, but don't talk about it. And,
above all, because you are actors and actresses, for that very reason
be sincere and unaffected; avoid rather than court publicity, for you
will have quite enough of it if you get on in your profession; the
successful actor is being constantly tempted to indiscretion. Do not
yield too readily to the blandishments of the photographer, or the
enterprising editor who asks you what are the love scenes you have
most enjoyed playing on the stage, and whether an actor or actress can
be happy though married. Be natural on the stage, and be just as
natural off it; regard the thing you have to do as work that has to be
done to the best of your power; if it be well done, it will bring its
own reward. It may not be an immediate reward, but have faith, keep
your purpose serious, so serious as to be almost a secret; bear in
mind that ordinary people expect you, just because you are actors and
actresses, to be extraordinary, unnatural, peculiar; do your utmost at
all times and seasons to disappoint such expectations.