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George Alexander on the need for theatrical apprenticeship, London, 1893
‘This has become a serious question, and one that must be answered without loss of time. Competition in the race of life has become so keen that numbers of young people gifted by nature and position, that would some years ago never have given a thought to the stage as a profession or means of employment, now flock to it. Have they really a gift for it? They have education and good looks, mix in the best society, dress well, and many of them are capable amateur actors and actresses. This inclination for the stage may be so fostered, encouraged, and instructed, that in many cases it may bring forward valuable recruits. How is this to be done? There are but few, if any, stock companies in which an spirant has, in the course of his apprenticeship (and I use the word advisedly), such opportunities of perfecting himself in his art as did Mr. S[quire] B. Bancroft, who "in four years and four months made his attempts in three hundred and forty-six parts." Ours are the days of long runs. A play is a success in London. So soon as it has reached its fiftieth or hundredth representation, a touring company is organised. Young inexperienced actors and actresses come to see it a few times, learn the words like parrots, are engaged, and make the character they have to assume as close a copy of the original as they possibly can. Instead of being an education, the engagement is a positive drawback to them. I shall be told that there are teachers, such as Mr. Hermann Vezin (to whom I myself am much indebted for encouragement and advice in my early career, thought never a pupil of his), Mr. Walter Lacy, Miss Genevieve Ward, Miss Fanny Robertson, Mr. Henry Neville, Mr. Ben Terry, and many others, who can teach their pupils even more than the mere rudiments of their art; but in the first place the fees are heavy, and in the second, though the pupil may take his lessons, he has very few opportunities of putting those lessons into actual practice. I admit that there is great value in such teaching, but without the practice, if an aspirant have an earnest love for the art he is cultivating, my impression is that he would learn more as a super on the Lyceum stage, if her took note of, and profited by, the excellent examples of histrionic perfection always to be seen there. I used the word apprenticeship advisedly, but, lest it should wring the withers of the fastidious I will substitute for it the term "articles," which smacks more of the learned professions. Why should not an actor (that term of course including actresses) sing articles, or "keep his term?" The church has its deacon, the army [its] "sub," the navy its middy, the law its "term of probation," the trade its apprentice. In all of these, before being admitted to full benefits, there is a probationary term or examination. The aspirant to the stage has nothing of this at present, and the consequence is that the dramatic profession is crowded with a number of young people who can never hope to make more than then barest livelihood, and who will never rise even to mediocrity.
‘A school of dramatic art is, in my opinion, exactly what is wanted in England at the present time - an idea which, I am perfectly aware, is no novel one. Such an institution would be aided and supported by our leading actors, who would no more hesitate to give their time to aiding such a valuable school by "coaching" the aspirants, and stage-managing the plays in which they appeared, than the leading physicians and surgeons grudge the time spent in lecturing at the hospitals.
‘To accomplish these ends, the leading managers and those who are interested in the drama and its future would have to contribute funds for the school, which would, I fear, not be able to support itself without contributions and patronage. Plenty of these, however, would doubtless be readily forthcoming. A few months would be sufficient to test the fitness and capability of the student; at the end of which time he should undergo his preliminary examination before members of the committee. Successful - his course of study would continue, and eventually he might be "articled" for a term to a manager at a small but definite and increasing salary. Should, however, the student be considered unfitted for the stage by these competent judges, he would be told so plainly and unmistakably; and the beneficial result obtained would be twofold: on the one hand the managers would know where to look for promising recruits, while on the other failure in the examination would encourage the would-be actor who has no real aptitude for the profession, to adopt some other walk of life. The young lady, who has perhaps nothing but a pretty face, and sometimes not even that, to recommend her, would turn her attention to type-writing or the care of children, or to other occupations for which nature intended her rather than "fretting her hour upon the stage."’
(The Theatre, London, 1 January 1893, pp.54 and 55)
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Arthur Bourchier’s admiration for Kate Vaughan
‘"A Tragedy - Caught Young" by Arthur Bourchier
‘As a lad at school my love for the theatre was just as great as it is now. I could not be greater. And my admiration for men and women connected with the Drama was perhaps a good deal more extensive and solid than it is to-day. Like many another boy of my time - old as well as young - I was devoted to the Gaiety Theatre [in London], then run by Mr. John Hollingshead, and the special attraction to me, as to many another, was that then most delightful of dancers, Miss Kate Vaughan.
‘I had usually occupied a seat in the dress circle when I visited the Gaiety, excepting at such time as when economy was necessary, and then the pit had to suffice. But I had aspirations for higher things, and had ever longed to be the proud possessor of a private box for at least one performance. The chance of realising my wish came on my birthday, when I found that I owned a vast deal of wealth - £5 in all - presented to me by a far too generous relative. Armed with this, I invited a certain youth of my acquaintance, who is now a distinguished member of the bar, to lunch with me the following Saturday afternoon at the Café Royal, and then to accompany me to the royal box at the Gaiety, which I had taken, and for which paid, I think, four guineas. When I came to count my change after paying for our luncheon and the theatre, I made the alarming discovery that my worldly wealth consisted exactly of one shilling and sixpence. This was bitter blow. I had hoped it would have run to a guinea bouquet, at least, for Miss Vaughan. But if the purse was feeble, the spirit at least was willing and my intention was good, and so with my eighteen-pence I purchased a very pretty buttonhole.
‘How we enjoyed that performance, and, it may only have been imagination - but our divinity certainly looked into our box with an odd expression which I now perceive to have been amused curiosity - and, I believe, she smiled!’
(The Pelican Christmas Annual, London, 1902)
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