First published in "Everywoman's Encyclopaedia", Volume V, London S.N. circa 1911.
A Profession or an Art - The Folly of the "Stage-Struck" Girl - The Road to Success - How Opportunities Occur - Some Useful Hints
It always seems to me that acting can be divided under two heads - Art and Profession - more clearly than any other art, for the simple reason that it is quite possible to adopt acting as a profession without actually possessing the soul, or should I say the "inward demon," which is, to a great extent, essential in the making of those who realise acting as a great art.
To such, it must be obvious that acting as a profession is largely a secondary consideration. By this I do not for an instant wish to suggest that to be a great artist you must necessarily be, at the same time, a great financial failure. I merely wish to point out that the combination of being able consistently to secure substantial commercial profits as a result of high artistic achievements is one which rarely happens.
A Word of Warning
However, the subject on which I have been asked to express my views is, "The Stage as a Profession," and to grapple with it at once, I may give it as my honest conviction that acting is a calling which, provided women have talent, and are prepared to work hard, should prove as satisfactory from a financial point of view as any other walk in life. I admit at once that, in a measure, it is precarious and uncertain, but it possesses compensatory qualities in that it gives a woman an equal chance with a man, and, better still, it is a calling in which her personality has as much freedom as a man's. In fine, to no small extent the woman who takes up acting as a profession will find that she will be largely dependent on her personality for the market value she attains.
But, unfortunately, many ambitious would-be stars seem to regard the stage as a profession in which apprenticeship - the learning of the essentials of acting - is not necessary. In other words, they would appear to look upon acting as a means of earning a livelihood, which is always open to them, should Fate prove unkind to them in other spheres of life.
But was ever notion more erroneous? Literature, the law, the Bar, commerce, secretarial work, any professions that you will, demand from their devotees a period - and sometimes a very long period - of apprenticeship before any reasonable meed of success can be anticipated. In other branches of art also one seldom hears of beginners expecting to make a lasting success all of a sudden.
Experience Is Essential
Few people can hope to have hung in the Academy unless they go through the drudgery of painting. And yet there are hundreds and thousands of educated men and women who would seem to cherish the comforting, but, from the point of view of eventual results, very unconvincing, belief that of all existing professions the stage is the one in which fame and fortune is to be won with almost lightning rapidity.
But, alas, such is not the case at all. To those who adopt acting as a profession the battle is never over; the victories are only tiny advantages in a lifelong war. Always must they strive, fight, and struggle on, sometimes gaining ground, at others losing grip. Yes, acting is a calling which seems to me to compel its exponents to live on tiptoe - always on tiptoe - every nerve strung up to concert pitch, the whole of one's being kept at such a tension that one is sensitive to everything done and said, and even thought.
And yet, as I have said, many members of both sexes - more particularly women perhaps - seem inclined to "burn their boats," as far as other callings in which they are assured of a small income are concerned, in order to launch out on the troublous seas of a theatrical career, confident that they only need opportunity to prove to an expectant world that they possess all the ingredients which must go to the making of a great histrionic artist.
Let me quote from communications I have received from theatrical aspirants to prove my contention. Here is a typical letter:
"Dear Miss Vanbrugh," it runs,
"I am writing to ask your advice on how I can best secure a part at a West End theatre. I have been to see you time after time, and what strikes me most about your acting is the wonderful way in which you portray the human emotions. I am a governess by profession, but, to tell you the honest truth, I am just sick and tired of teaching, and, therefore, I have decided to go on the stage at the earliest possible moment, because the pay is so much better and the life is so much less irksome."
Space prevents me from quoting this letter at length, but this is how my correspondent concluded:
"I would be very grateful, therefore, if you would give me a letter of introduction, and would just put in a note of recommendation on your part to some well-known manager in the West End of London. I should live in a small flat in Kensington, or some other handy locality as I dislike touring, because travelling by train always upsets me. Thanking you in anticipation, etc."
What can one write in reply to a letter of this sort? It is impossible to give encouragement to a correspondent who confesses at once to possessing no knowledge at all of acting. The mere confession disarms one. And yet if one replies in a discouraging strain, the writer probably merely pities one's lack of discrimination. Silence, I suppose, is the best course in which to take refuge, though one's heart prompts one to try to dissuade the stage-struck from bringing trouble on themselves. For trouble must assuredly await the ignorant and incompetent in any walk of life.
Now, so far as acting as a profession is concerned, it seems to me a thousand pities that so many members of both sexes are prevented by the glamour of the stage from recognising the art of the actor who by art, and art alone, can make acting appear easy - so easy, in fact, that the lay mind is often apt to form the impression that no one can be so incompetent as not to find work in the theatre.
But, for the moment, let us assume that you have launched out on the stage. Let me, then, point out some temptations which will beset you. One of the most fatal mistakes in a theatrical career is to lose your head. And yet how many young artists have made this mistake consequent on a success early in their career. A success on the stage is a particularly dangerous thing in that it is so instantaneous in its immediate result. Everybody in the theatre, from the manager to the call-boy, beams on you, except the two or three exceptions (which go to prove this rule), who show their appreciation more clearly by disliking you.
Outside the theatre, too, you feel you have achieved some sort of a triumph. The public is pleased, and claps its hands. The Press is more or less unanimous in its praise. You are probably surprised, certainly delighted, and you feel that your name is made for ever. When you feel that, then the time has arrived for you to call into use your better judgment, so that you may be able to keep your head. If you do not do this, the awakening will be a bitter one. As Rose Trelawney says:
"My mother knew how fickle Fortune could be to us gipsies."
Fickle Fortune
But let me qualify that remark. Fickle, Fortune may not be, because the public, our present-day public, is a warm-hearted, kindly, appreciative, loyal public; but it is also an uncertain public. It looks to its children, or, to use a term which appeals to me more strongly than "children," its "servants," to prove themselves worthy of its appreciation.
My advice, therefore, to those who adopt acting as a profession, and who have, happily, made a first success, is to let that initial success stimulate them to make their second, and to let their second success surprise them into making their third; and last but not least, never to lose their heads. Those who adopt the stage as a profession have selected the most intangible of the arts, and they will find that they cannot "stand on tiptoe" unless they succeed in learning the art of keeping their heads.
Again, another important quality to cultivate in acting as a profession is to make quick but, if possible, never hurried decisions. First, have clearly in your mind what you want most. Is it a good part, or is it a good engagement? Sometimes the two go together, but if, perchance, they do not, and you are in a position to make a choice, pause before making it. But, once having paused, see to it that you do not look back and regret.
Let me give you a personal experience to exemplify my meaning. This experience actually happened to me some years ago, after I had done a good deal of that "ground work" which is so essential to success in acting in the provinces and the Colonies. By chance I was offered in London a character part in which, I believe, I made a small hit, and from that time character parts only were offered to me - bookworms, ladies of uncertain age, ladies with pasts, and one in particular, a lady chaperon of over forty years of age. With a mighty effort I refused this crowning injustice, and, after a sleepless night, I decided to call and see the author of the play. He saw me, and proved to be a human being who sympathised with my difficulties, and the result was a beautiful part in his next play, with no past, no years to add, and - happiness.
On one point I cannot be too emphatic in advice to those who propose to adopt the stage as a profession, and that point is the importance of beginning early. Unless you have started at a younger age in children's parts, sixteen is certainly not too soon to commence work, for the sooner you commence, the sooner you will gain experience when you are looking your freshest and best. Experience gained under those circumstances will help you to add still another asset to your value as an actress, for, as far as stage work is concerned, appearance is an important thing, and thus must be taken seriously. Again, let me counsel the ambitious never to shirk any work or rehearsals, for that opportunity in which you will be able to show your ability may crop up when least expected.
How Opportunities Occur
An example in point. Once when I was playing at the St. James's Theatre, the understudy of my part was given to three girls. One night, as luck would have it, I was unable to play. All three of the girls, therefore, were sent for; but two of them, having deemed it most unlikely that I should ever be off, and, at the same time, being far from disposed to take what they chose to regard as "useless and unnecessary trouble," had made no attempt at all even to learn the part. The result was that the management realised that it was no earthly use expecting either of them to come to the rescue. The third girl, however, had learned her part most conscientiously. She played it, did well, and afterwards secured engagements regularly.
In conclusion, let me counsel followers of the stage as a profession to be careful at all times to be very punctual, and to bring a concentrated and clear mind into theatre, so that they may be mentally prepared to receive all impressions, and to grasp any opportunities that may come their way. They would do well, too, to keep clear their sense of humour, and also to keep clear the imagination. Let them also cultivate a control of their own nerves, and, at all times, bear in mind the value of tact.
The stage is not an easy life, but, if an actress's heart is really in her work, it is a very fascinating life.