The parts in which I won the most sympathy from the Italian public
were those of Oreste in the tragedy of that name, Egisto in "Merope,"
Romeo in "Giulietta e Romeo," Paolo in "Francesca da Rimini," Rinaldo
in "Pia di Tolommei," Lord Bonfield in "Pamela," Domingo in the
"Suonatrice d 'Arpa," and Gian Galeazzo in "Lodovico il Moro." In all
these my success was more pronounced than in other parts, and I
received flattering marks of approval. I did not reflect, at that
time, of how great assistance to me it was to be constantly surrounded
by first-rate artists; but I soon came to feel that an atmosphere
untainted by poisonous microbes promotes unoppressed respiration, and
that in such an atmosphere soul and body maintain themselves healthy
and vigorous. I observed frequently in the "scratch" companies, which
played in the theatres of second rank young men and women who showed
very notable artistic aptitude, but who, for lack of cultivation and
guidance, ran to extravagance, overemphasis, and exaggeration. Up to
that time, while I had a clear appreciation of the reasons for
recognising defects in others, I did not know how to correct my own;
on the other hand, I recognised that the applause accorded me was
intended as an encouragement more than as a tribute which I had
earned. From a youth of pleasing qualities (for the moment I quell my
modesty), with good features, full of fire and enthusiasm, with a
harmonious and powerful voice, and with good intellectual faculties,
the public deemed that an artist should develop who would distinguish
himself, and perhaps attain eminence in the records of Italian art;
and for this reason it sought to encourage me, and to apply the spur
to my pride by manifesting its feeling of sympathy. By good fortune
I had enough conscience and good sense to receive this homage at its
just value. I felt the need of studying, not books alone, but men and
things, vice and virtue, love and hate, humility and haughtiness,
gentleness and cruelty, folly and wisdom, poverty and opulence,
avarice and lavishness, long-suffering and vengeance--in short, all
the passions for good and evil which have root in human nature. I
needed to study out the manner of rendering these passions in
accordance with the race of the men in whom they were exhibited, in
accordance with their special customs, principles, and education; I
needed to form a conception of the movement, the manner, the
expressions of face and voice characteristic of all these cases; I
must learn by intuition to grasp the characters of fiction, and by
study to reproduce those of history with semblance of truth, seeking
to give to every one a personality distinct from every other. In
fine, I must become capable of identifying myself with one or another
personage to such an extent as to lead the audience into the illusion
that the real personage, and not a copy, is before them. It would
then remain to learn the mechanism of my art; that is, to choose the
salient points and to bring them out, to calculate the effects and
keep them in proportion with the unfolding of the plot, to avoid
monotony in intonation and repetition in accentuation, to insure
precision and distinctness in pronunciation, the proper distribution
of respiration, and incisiveness of delivery. I must study; study
again; study always. It was not an easy thing to put these precepts
into practice. Very often I forgot them, carried away by excitement,
or by the superabundance of my vocal powers; indeed, until I had
reached an age of calmer reflection I was never able to get my
artistic chronometer perfectly regulated; it would always gain a few
minutes every twenty-four hours.