then you make a big hit.... Well, now we will
rehearse this in about a week--and you will be tickled to death.... This
is a great play--fine part.... Now, you see Humphreys--he will arrange
everything."
Of course Faversham went away feeling that he was about forty-four feet
tall, that he was a great actor, and had a wonderful part.
Like the soldier who thrills at the sound of battle, Frohman became
galvanized when he began to work in the theater. He forgot time, space,
and all other things save the task at hand. To him it was as the breath
of life.
One reason was that the theater was his world; the other that Charles
was, first and foremost, a director and producer. His sensibility and
force, his feeling and authority, his intelligence and comprehension in
matters of dramatic artistry were best, almost solely, known to his
players and immediate associates. No stage-director of his day was more
admired and desired than he.
At rehearsal the announcement, "C. F. is in front," meant for every one
in the cast an eager enthusiasm and a desire to do something unusually
good to merit his commendation. His enormous energy, aided by his
diplomacy and humor, inspired the player to highest performance.
Such expressions as, "But, Mr. Frohman, this is my way of doing it," or
"I feel it this way," and like manifestations of actors' conceit or
argument would never be met with ridicule or contempt. Sometimes he
would say, "Try it my way first," or "Do you like that?" or "Does this
give you a better feeling?" He never said, "You _must_ do thus and so."
He was alert to every suggestion. As a result he got the very best out
of his people. It was part of his policy of developing the personal
element.
The genial human side of the man always softened his loudest tones,
although he was seldom vehement. So gentle was his speech at rehearsals
that the actors often came down to the footlights to hear his friendly
yet earnest direction.
Frohman had that first essential of a great dramatic director--a
psychologic mind in the study of the various human natures of his actors
and of the ideas they attempted to portray.
He was an engaging and fascinating figure, too, as he molded speech and
shaped the play. An old friend who saw him in action thus describes the
picture:
"Here a comedian laughs aloud with the comic quaintness of the director.
There a little lady, new to the stage, is made to feel at home and
confident. The proud old
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