spiritual grace which I cannot claim.

It is admittedly unfortunate for the stage that it has a certain
equivocal element, which, in the eyes of some judges, is sufficient
for its condemnation. The art is open to all, and it has to bear the
sins of many. You may open your newspaper, and see a paragraph headed
"Assault by an Actress." Some poor creature is dignified by that title
who has not the slightest claim to it. You look into a shop-window and
see photographs of certain people who are indiscriminately described
as actors and actresses though their business has no pretence to be
art of any kind.

I was told in Baltimore of a man in that city who was so diverted by
the performance of Tyrone Powar, the popular Irish comedian, that he
laughed uproariously till the audience was convulsed with merriment at
the spectacle. As soon as he could speak, he called out, "Do be quiet,
Mr. Showman; do'ee hold your tongue, or I shall die of laughter!" This
idea that the actor is a showman still lingers; but no one with any
real appreciation of the best elements of the drama applies this
vulgar standard to a great body of artists. The fierce light of
publicity that beats upon us makes us liable, from time to time, to
dissertations upon our public and private lives, our manners, our
morals, and our money. Our whims and caprices are discanted on with
apparent earnestness of truth, and seeming sincerity of conviction.
There is always some lively controversy concerning the influence of
the stage. The battle between old methods and new in art is waged
everywhere. If an actor were to take to heart everything that is
written and said about him, his life would be an intolerable burden.
And one piece of advice I should give to young actors is this: Do not
be too sensitive; receive praise or censure with modesty and patience.
Good honest criticism is, of course, most advantageous to an actor;
but he should save himself from the indiscriminate reading of a
multitude of comments, which may only confuse instead of stimulating.
And here let me say to young actors in all earnestness: Beware of the
loungers of our calling, the camp followers who hang on the skirts of
the army, and who inveigle the young into habits that degrade their
character, and paralyze their ambition. Let your ambition be ever
precious to you, and, next to your good name, the jewel of your souls.
I care nothing for the actor who is not always anxious to rise to
the highest