REFLECTIONS
UPON
THE DRAMATIC ART.
It is the wish of many that I should write my sentiments relative to an art which I have long professed. It is supposed that the reflections I have made, in order to render myself supportable in the eyes of the public, may be of some use to those who are destined to pursue the same career. Perhaps the public, or, at least, the admirers of theatrical representations, will contemplate with some degree of pleasure the road I have followed, in order to acquire their favour. But reflection and writing are two such different things; it appears so extraordinary to me to comprehend any thing without the aid of physiognomy, gesture, and speech; I am so diffident of myself; that I tremble as much in taking up the pen as I once did in appearing before the public.—Friendship imposes the task upon me, and my compliant disposition cannot resist. Without any regular plan, perhaps without any system, but certainly without vanity, I am about to trace what I deem necessary to the attainment of this art,—an art much more difficult than it is generally supposed to be.