 Chapter 29 of Among the Great Masters of the Drama, this is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sonja. Among the Great Masters of the Drama by Walter Rowlands. Monsieur Coquelin is really the Balzac of actors. Henry James. That transient writer, the late W. E. Henley, printed some years ago a paper upon Coquelin, which is a most valuable estimate of the distinguished French actor. Henley says, to tell the truth, Monsieur Coquelin is so excellent an actor that under Salvini I know not where to look for his equal. Mr. Henry James said of him years ago, that he had more temperament than Monsieur Go, and there's much art. And I agree with Mr. Henry James. He has played many parts, and good, bad, and indifferent, he has played them all incomparably. Nature intended him for a great actor. Education and opportunity have made him a great artist. It is recorded of him that at the beginning, as Rignier's pupil, he is Rignier's best work, he failed, and failed conspicuously. With his wide mouth and brilliant eye, his impudent nose and vibrant voice, he seemed designed by nature for the Prince of Skapin and Masquerie. But his first efforts in this direction were far from notable, and when Rignier, changing completely the bend of his education, began to train him for the performance of old man's parts, and produced him finally as the organ of the Tartuffe, the result was a cruel fiasco. It was, so far as I know, the last with which this admirable actor has been credited. He resumed his practice upon the heroic rascaldom of Molière and Rignier, and at four and twenty or so, he made his first great hit as the Figaro of the marriage. He was half dead, they say, with stage fright, and his weakness aiding, he played the part in a tragic vein that was accepted as not a blunder, but a revelation. Since then he has touched nothing which he has not adorned. Big parts and little, the old repertory and the new, Molière and Hugo, Marivaux and Augier, le joueur and le fils naturel, Jean d'Acier and le monde doulant son nuit, Bonville and Scrib, he has played in all, and in all he has excelled. From first to last his career has been one of hard work and artistic uprightness and unselfishness. He has never disdained to play small and secondary parts, the dancing dandy and the huntsman of les fâcheux, the ridiculous marquee of le joueur, the du bois of le misentrope, the lucas of donjon, the monsieur loyal of the tartuf, and in playing these perfectly he learned to become the perfect exponent of greater and more perilous matter. The magnificent impudence of Sbrygani and Scapin, the high-bred wickedness of the Duc de Sèdemont, the hungry and tattered heroism of Gringoire, the colossal hypocrisy of tartuf, the beautiful and touching humanity of the old schoolmaster in Les Renseaux. It is known that for him excellence is unattainable, safe by means of discipline, that there is only one way to true eminence in art, and that way is through training and work, and his achievement is a proof that he is right. Macready, as we know, thought otherwise, and most Englishmen think with Macready. I confess that on this point I prefer the authority of Coquelin, whose example, as it seems to me, is a good deal more respectable than Macready's own. So far as I can gather Macready, like Mr. Irving, was always himself and nothing else. Coquelin, like Salvini, though of course upon a lower level, is only himself in method and accomplishment, and the part therefrom is always the character he happens to have in hand. In the masquerie of Littourdi he is a hero of romantic farce, the citizen of an impossible and delightful community. The exemplar of an impossible and delightful immorality, the sublimation of an impossible and delightful theory of humorous adventure. In the vaduse of les femmes savants he is only an incarnation of angry pedantry. In the sept mois of l'étrangère he is a man of breeding to the fingernails and a black art in every fiber. These three parts are a type of his whole achievement. Whatever he does is done with such a combination of art and temperament, with so much accomplishment and so much intelligence at once, as to stand out, however good its surroundings, as a perfect expression of histrionics. I have the greatest possible liking and respect for the rare and beautiful talent of Monsieur Delonnet, and the greatest possible admiration for the noble, intellectual and technical qualities of Monsieur Gault, but I confess that wherever I have seen these admirable artists in direct competition with Monsieur Coquelin, in Littourdi, for instance, and les femmes savants, I have been obliged, almost against my will, to prefer vaduse to trissotin and masquerie to lily, that when these two famous artists have retired he will remain for some years to come the central and sovereign figure of the Théâtre français seems to me proved in advance. Henley's article on Coquelin was written long before the actor had created the part of Cyrano in Roston's play, which may be considered his highest achievement. In it he shows, in consummate perfection, the two apparently contradictory sides of his remarkable genius. He is the very type of the Gaskin soldier, full of braggadocio and fight, merry and impudent. On the other hand, he is a lover such as the world has never seen before. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 of Among the Great Masters of the Drama This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sonia. Among the Great Masters of the Drama by Walter Rowlands Sarah Bernard Madame, you were both great and charming. I am an old combatant, but at the moment when the enchanted people were applauding you, I confess that I wept. Victor Hugo to Sarah Bernard When the young Sarah Bernard appeared as a candidate for admission to the Paris Conservatoire before the jury of that august institution, she recited instead of the customary selection from Cornet or Racine a fable of La Fontaine's, entitled The Two Pigeons, with such effect that she was at once accepted as a pupil. One of the actresses' finest performances is the part of Adrien Le Couvreur, inscribed Le Gouvé's drama of that name, in the second act of which Adrien recites to her lover, Maurice de Saxe, the same fable. Rachelle was the first impersonator of Adrien Le Couvreur and a well-known English playwriter, the late Palgrave Simpson, who witnessed her performance in Paris in 1849, has placed on record a most interesting account of it, and also of Sarah Bernard's rendition of the character in London in 1880. He begins with Picture One. It is the evening of the 14th of April, 1849. A vast crowd is assembled in every part of the Salle of the Théâtre Français. The occasion may well account for the enormous throng, for a new place to be given for the first time by the defied dramatist of that day Eugène Scriebe, and the greatest actress of the period, some would say of all time, Rachelle, is about to appear in the principal part. The play bears the title of Adrien Le Couvreur. It is not my purpose to dilate upon the piece itself. The picture to be painted is that of the actress alone. She enters at last in Act Two. Her reception is stormily enthusiastic, and she smiles of faint, almost melancholy's smile in return. She is studying the part which, as Adrien Le Couvreur, she is about to play on the fancy stage beyond the stage. Her diction is solemn and impressive, perhaps a little too heavy for the occasion, but this is Rachelle's fault in the lighter portions of many plays, notably in The Virginie. Her bearing and manner are imposing, and lay powerful siege to the feelings of her audience. A caviar might say that they are too imposing for the situation. Presently come the scenes where she meets her lover, Moïste Saxe, unknown to her except as a young officer of fortune, on his return to Paris. Her love is displayed with wonderful impetuosity and effect. It is excited and feverish. Her passion is almost tigerish in its demonstration. It is powerful in the extreme, but surely a little in excess of womanly tenderness. She recites the fable of the two pigeons with admirable emphasis and true artistic declamation, but she is still passionate rather than tender. On her return to the stage, after having received from her lover the missive which tells her that he cannot meet her that night, her feelings of modification are expressed with less of violence, however. She does not seem to think the scene worthy of a special effort. In Act III comes the second interview with her lover, and the discovery that the supposed humble officer is in reality the celebrated Count de Saxe. In this scene there is a greater charm of womanly tenderness in her natural surprise than in any of the preceding scenes. In the interview which follows, when the lovers are alone, impulsive passion again takes the place of tenderness. But her power holds the audience enthralled. Is she not the divinity of the time? And can divinity err? And yet it might be fancied by capture's heretics that her passion is strained to discordant harshness. Presently comes the scene, the umbrella of which is so admirably conceived by the master of dramatic ardent construction, the scene in which Adrienne discovers that she has a rival, but a rival unknown to her in the darkness. The incipient jealousy of the woman, who thinks she is portrayed by her lover, is powerful without a doubt, almost fiendish in its expression. But Rachel contrives to throw a marvellous dignity into the words « et moi je vous protège » in answer to the « je vous perdrai » of the vindictive princess. And there is an accent of profound despair in her words as she sings into a chair at the conclusion of the act. Ah, tout est fini! The curtain falls amidst the tumult of applause. In Act IV, the scenes in which the devoted woman identifies as her fortune to save her lover from arrest are played with a feverish irritability which in some measure detracts from the sympathy which the situation ought to create. But in the scene where Adrienne discovers her rival and considers the treachery of Moïse complete, Rachel rises to her greatest height. The verses from Fedre are declaimed in the face of the princess, but without moving from the spot where she stands with so grand a scorn that her whole audience is thrilled. Here it is that the actress, without possibility of cavill, is perfect in her greatness. The last act comes, in which Adrienne is convinced in her own mind of the infidelity of her lover, but her despair is alternately lugubrious rather than plaintive, tigerish and fiendish rather than reproachful. The return of her supposed faithless lover is only the prelude to the death scene by Poison, that the death is most powerful and effective that anyone can deny, but it is repulsive in its realism. Picture two. The background is now the stage of the gaiety theatre London. The theatre is crowded, for Sarah Bernard is about to appear for the first time in this same play of Adrienne LeCouvreur, and considerable curiosity as to the result is excited. It may be said that fair play is scarcely awarded her among the old play-goers who have already made up their minds and loudly proclaimed beforehand that it is utterly impossible she can be a patch on Rachelle. Let us see. From the very first, Sarah Bernard shows that her conception of the part is entirely different from that of her celebrated predecessor. How quickly and simply she enters, studying her part, with what a pleasant smile and ladylike grace does she respond to the importunities of the fobs around her, with what seductive tones of grateful affection does she address her devoted old friend, the prompter, comes her meeting with her lover. The love-scene here is replete with womanly tenderness springing from the heart. There is no violence of passion, and although the impulse of this loving woman is strong, it is kept within delicate bounds. She is sweetly caressing but not feverishly fiery, and her fable of the two pigeons is recited in a strain more touching even to pathos than strong. All this loving tenderness and not the spark of this conception of the character is lost. Even at the close of the act, the words Oui, je m'occuperai encore de lui, l'un gras, ce sera là ma vengeance. Are spoken with a sweet tenderness, only faintly tinged with the color of reproach. The same conception and the same execution of it are continued in Act III, in the scenes where the great general is discovered in the humble officer, and the lovers indulge in mutual protestations. The stronger and darker traits of the feminine character are not yet roused. The time, however, is shortly to come. The incipient jealousy on the discovery of her yet unknown rival is admirably although delicately portrayed, and gathers crescendo like distant rolling thunder, although the storm does not burst into an explosion. In the famous phrase Je vous protège alone, the actress is slightly disappointing, and yet the tone in which it is uttered is consistent with her conception of the part. It is with a quiet dignity that the words are uttered, not with the thrilling force of Rochelle. The two définis, however, thrills the audience. It is a real cri du coeur, although subdued and choking. From this moment Sarah Bernard is feverish, excited, restless, but without quarrelous irritability. When she discovers her rival and has no longer any doubt of her lover's treachery, Sarah Bernard is at once powerful with finesse and passionate with subdued energy. The climax of the scene alone may be considered at once a mistake and a failure. The manner in which she advances across the stage toward her detested rival and hurls the outrage in the words of Fedre into her very face with outstretched finger almost touching her is far too overstrained. In the last act ample amends are made for the one error. Exquisite without exaggeration is her despair at the supposed desertion of her lover, and equally beautiful her revulsion on his return to her arms. The death scene follows. Realistic it is true, but how different from the realism of her great predecessor. The fight for life, the despairing cry, non je ne veux pas mourir, are as real as any death scene ever exhibited on the stage, but without repulsiveness. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 of Among the Great Masters of the Drama, this is LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sonya. Among the Great Masters of the Drama by Walter Rowlands. Modiesca The acting of Madame Modiesca stands on the same high level with the best in literature, music and the fine arts. Charles Decay It was as Adrien Le Couvreur that Bernard first appeared in the United States, and it was in the same character that Madame Modiesca made her entry on the stage as an English speaking actress in San Francisco in 1877. She had conquered Warsaw when she played the part on her debut there long before. A few years after her Californian triumph in Adrien, the beautiful Polish actress essayed the heroine of As You Like It and this part she first performed in New York in 1882. She studied the part alone without any such assistance as she had for Juliet, and began to learn the words when she was about starting for America. She was then perfectly familiar with Shakespearean language and wonderfully at home in the country, so that she was able to work out for herself her own idea of the most delicious of Shakespearean ladies. She had seen the play produced at the Imperial Theatre with Miss Lytton as Rosalind and Curl Bellew as Orlando. Mr Bellew's performance interested her exceedingly. When she read the play for herself she came to the conclusion that Orlando is never deceived by his lady love's masquerade but merely follows her whim as she will. Be this as it may, Rosalind, with her quick wit and warm heart, is one of the most fascinating characters of the stage. Its caity and sweetness are the very charms which Madame Modiesca can so well express and she has, too, the light foot and girlish figure which must belong to Rosalind. The dress which she wears shows her slender form to admiration. It is made from Mr. Forbes Robertson's beautiful design and colours Madame Modiesca chose for herself. Instead of the brown tins which Miss Lytton wore Madame Modiesca's cloak and head are blue. Perhaps no dress she has ever worn has suited her so well as this picturesque costume with its feathered head, its doublet and long, tight-fitting boots of buff leather. The white blue velvet cloak, which would be a source of great distress to anyone at all, awkward in the hands of an experienced full-actress becomes the most elegant and expressive part of the costume. Few women possess the bearing which becomes such a dress but Madame Modiesca is one of those few. She can put on to perfection the pretty imitation of a swashing and the marshal outside. A Rosalind whose manly garb is as modest as it is trim and picturesque who seizes upon the ideal part of the character and who is capable of detail which is amusing yet never coarse, cannot but win the hearts of her audiences. But although the part is so lovable so interesting in itself it requires a really fine actress. A beautiful face and a pretty figure are not sufficient qualifications for a Rosalind though some have fancied so and in the hands even of a clever actress the whole impersonation may be ruined by a touch of vulgarity. We have had fair Rosalinds and realistic Rosalinds beauties and hoidans but the public fully appreciates the boon when an actress takes the part who is an artist in spirit and who has read her Shakespeare with understanding. The Great Masters of the Drama by Walter Rollins Chapter 32 Adelaide Nielsen Twice happy we blessed heirs of dual art to own as mother tongue will Shakespeare's writ to live when kindling Nielsen voices it. Clarence Clove-Buell as Mojesca's earliest assumption of Rosalind was in America so Nielsen's first performance of Viola was reserved for the United States when she presented it in London in 1878 a leading English weekly paid it this tribute. There are two conceptions of the character of Viola, either of which is defensible. There is the sentimental view which links the character with Bolario or Euphrasia in the Philaster of Beaumont and Fletcher of the early drama and there is the more realistic view which makes her assumption of masculine attire something of a mad cap freak. The letter view is that taken by Miss Nielsen it is fully born out by the text. Viola falls in love with the Duke in the three months during which she is his confident and messenger. It is absurd to suppose that love for a man she has never seen could have led her to the first assumption of masculine attire. The words moreover spoken to her by Olivia show that she put on with Rosalind a swashing in Marshall outside Olivia charges her with having been saucy and tells her she began rudely Viola's address to Maria no good swabber I am to haul here a little longer. Affords no special proof of timidity of demeanor. It is only then in her graver moments and when in presence of her Lord that Viola shows the sentimental aspect of her character like the Divernen of Scott she can melt into tenderness but her general mood is one of almost saucy defiance Miss Nielsen presents this character to the life she has every physical qualification for the part and looks surprisingly attractive in her Greek costume she enjoys thoroughly the confusion her assumption of manly dress creates and her delight when she finds herself taken for a man by Olivia is infectious not less happy is she in the more serious passages the grace and delicacy of the play being as far as the scenes in which she appears are concerned fully preserved thus though the impersonation may not compare with the Juliet or even with the Rosalind of the same actress it is distinctly worthy of her reputation both as regards insight and expository ability a few months before Adelaide Nielsen's sad and early death the writer saw her as Viola and finds this English critics praise far below the worth of her performance Mr. Henry A. claps appreciation of Miss Nielsen's Viola is at once more generous and more just he speaks of her ineffable charm and her art that was beyond criticism and ends with these words in that slender made as she looked through Adelaide Nielsen's eyes and spoke through her voice the fairest dream of romance seemed incarnate in her the very riches of the sea strangely delivered from its enraged and foamy mouth had come on shore. End of Chapter 32 Chapter 33 of Among the Great Masters of the Drama this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Sonya Among the Great Masters of the Drama by Walter Rowlands Mary Anderson I have the warmest admiration and respect for her talent William Archer it is now nearly fifteen years since Mary Anderson retired from this stage her last appearance having been as Perdita and Hermione in The Winter's Tale at Washington in the inauguration week of 1889 she was then not yet 30 but could look back on a lifetime almost half of which had been spent later as her debut was made as Juliet in Louisville, Kentucky when she was but sixteen years of age to say how much of Miss Anderson's phenomenal success was due to the personal beauty and charm which she possessed in such high degree and how much to her histrionic ability would be a difficult task in private life few actresses ever possessed so many friends among the noblest and best minds of the day as Miss Anderson in her own country President Grant General Sherman and the poet Longfellow were especially kind and helpful to the young aspirant for theatrical honors while at a later time abroad she gained a warm regard of many among the most distinguished Robert Browning was one of these and Miss Anderson tells an interesting anecdote about him Balva, said he asked me to go to hear him read his new play Richelieu requesting that I should take a blank card upon which to write my criticism on arriving at the place of Rendezvous I found Charles Dickens and Thackeray if I remember rightly as well as McCready and several others all similarly armed with paper and pencil when Balva had finished I immediately handed him my card with a great play written on it so you see I was the first to pronounce judgment on Richelieu Gladstone, then Prime Minister Miss Anderson met at a breakfast at his house in Downing Street the meal was unpleasantly interrupted by the noise of a loud explosion nearby which was found to be caused by an attempt to blow up the Admiralty buildings, it being the time of the dynamite outrages in London Mr Gladstone was the only one present who did not show the least sign of alarm the actress had the rare privilege for an American of visiting Tennyson and accompanying him on some of his long daily walks and she also heard the poet read from his own verses she says he never made a gesture while reading though tears sometimes ran down his cheeks a fortunate woman indeed was Miss Anderson Victor Hugo welcoming her in Paris and kissing her hands her story discussing classic draperies with her Alma Tadema designing costumes and scenery for her and Lord Lytton and W.S. Gilbert writing plays for her while George Frederick Watts painted her portrait our illustration of the actress Parthenia recalls the fact that when she played it for the first time John McCullough was the Ingomar it was as Parthenia that the actress chose to make her bow before a London audience at the Lyceum in 1883 End of chapter 33 End of Among the Great Masters of the Drama by Walter Rowlands