Edwardian Stage Make-up (2)

The following are reproductions of articles from period UK and US publications describing how popular actors of the period acheived their make-up effects.

• THE ART OF MAKEUP
• ADVICE TO AMATEURS
• WONDERFUL EVOLUTION OF THE ART OF MAKING-UP
• FACES ON THE STAGE - TRICKS BY WHICH THEY MAY DEFY THE FOOTLIGHTS

The Playgoer (UK), Vol 1. No 4, 15th January,1902.
THE ART OF MAKEUP
WITH EXAMPLES BY MASTERS OF MAKEUP, BRITISH AND AMERICAN
by Edith Davids

That beauty is the touchstone of dramatic talent has been proved abundantly. While it is undoubtedly true that no woman has ever achieved a great dramatic success with beauty as her only possession, yet to the actresses who were beautiful the public has forgiven much - to the actresses who seemed beautiful, rather. And this is the saving grace of the plain: that, in the scene, to seem beautiful is to be beautiful; to seem young is to be young. There have been "professional beauties" to whom the footlights were as an enchantment, casting over them a magic spell of beauty; beauties in whom, viewed by the cold light of day, could be found scant vestige of comeliness. There have been many youthful dramatic heroines well stricken in years; ingenues of advanced age. Meet her on the boulevards, in the streets, even in her own boudoir, and look for Anna Held's much-talked-of "beauty." You will not find it. It is but the creation of the artistic hand, the make-up box and the foot­lights. Of course, there are types of beauty for which stage art can do little, faces which in coloring and classical purity of feature have little to demand from artificial aid. They are, however, exceedingly rare.

In that it is a potent factor in creating this illusion of beauty, make-up is an essential portion of the histrionic art. An actress' success in a play has been marred by the proportion of red to white in her facial make-up.

The make-up box can work wonders even with the most ordinary of physical foundations to work upon. Make-up is to the actor's face what costume is to his body, a means of decoration or a disguise, as the case may require. When used as a disguise, as an aid to the actor's assuming this or that character and concealing his own personal identity from the spectator, it becomes what is known as "character" make-up, and forms an important element in the art of the "character" actor. As a decoration it is in requisition by all actors and actresses, and, as such, it is known as "straight" make-up.

Making up for the chorus in the mens and womens dressing rooms

The face of every actress - or actor - who goes upon the stage must, of necessity, be made up with paint and powder and pencil, else in the glare of the limelight it would assume an aspect of ghastly pallor. A chaotic disarray of grease-paints and cosmetics, rouge-paws, powder-puffs and eyelash-quills, French powders and Oriental creams, litters the dressing-table of every actress, even though she use only a "straight" make­up. This form of artificial facial expression, infinitely less complex though it is than "character" make-up, involves the use of cold-cream, white grease-paint, two shades of flesh-colored grease-paint, a pale tint and a darker, dry rouge, lip rouge, black cosmetic, and face powder. It is not the dainty little cold-cream vial of the boudoir that one sees on the actress' dressing-table, but an ample jar, often indeed a can. The grease-paint comes in sticks, varying in size from that of a man's thumb to that of a lead­pencil, the slender, pencil-like sticks being of dark brown or black, and used for emphasising certain lines in the face.

Black cosmetic is used by the brunette actress to throw a shadow about her eyes, blue by her fairer sister. Some actresses use blue above the eye and black beneath. Face-rouge of a deeper red is used by the brunette than by the blonde. The face powder used for make-up is coarse and heavy; in color it is of white or flesh-color, according to the complexion of the actress using it.

A good make-up is the creation of an artist in expression. To make up well is not a simple matter. The technique employed by the actress in painting a picture face upon her own is like that employed by the artist in painting a face upon canvas. The principles involved in painting are the principles which guide the artist in make-up. Is any part of the face to be brought into prominence? A touch of white is given. On the contrary, a coat of dark grease-paint given to an unduly prominent feature throws that feature into shadow and the desired inconspicuity. The application of red gives an illusion of fulness to too obvious hollows.

The process of making up "straight" is as follows: The actress first applies a liberal coat of cold-cream to her face, rubbing well into the pores of the skin, so that the grease-paint and rouge to follow it may not injure her natural complexion. Next follows the application of the flesh­colored grease-paint, the darker shade to the nose, the paler to the rest of the face. This slight darkening of the nose is on the theory that that feature, presenting itself nearest to the audience, is apt to appear unduly large, just as a hand or foot coming nearest to a camera will present an abnormally large appearance in the photograph. Not infrequently one hears the remark made concerning an actress who is careless about her make­up, "Why, what an immense nose!" In point of fact, the aspect of size may be due simply to over­whiteness. There is a certain type of face in the making up of which the darker grease-paint may be applied with advantageous effect to the sides of the face just beyond the cheek-bones. The type referred to is that known as the "platter-faced" ­ the most difficult type of face to make up attractively. The shadows thus drawn on either side of the face at the line of its greatest breadth will do much to soften the ugly aspect of flatness and broadness. After the application of the grease-paint the face appears a perfect blank, but in two tints of flesh-color. A thick layer of powder is now laid on, and the rouge-paw passed very lightly over the entire face, so that there may be nothing aggressively white about the make-up. The cheeks are then given their bright coat of rouge.

If they are too plump, the lower halves of them are slightly darkened previous to applying the rouge. If too thin, an effect of fulness is produced by emphasising the principal line about the mouth with the dark-brown pencil, and leaving just beyond this line a narrow rim of white. Next in process come the eyes. A portion of black cosmetic is scraped off the stick and placed in a tiny, spoon-like vessel, which is held above the gas flame until the cosmetic is melted. In this liquid form the cosmetic is applied to the eyelashes with what is known as an "eyelash-quill," and as the drop applied to each separate lash runs down and forms into a bead at the end, the process is called "beading the eyelashes." When the cosmetic is cool and partially set, it is used in drawing a heavy dark line at the edge of the eyelids both above and beneath the eye. The lines, meeting at the outside of the eye, are elongated into a tapering line to produce the dreamy, almond-eyed effect. A tiny dab of lip rouge is added in the corner of each eye to lend an expression of brilliance.

The ingenue produces an expression of limpid, large-eyed innocence by inserting a line of white directly below the eye just above the lower lashes. The actress who possesses an exceedingly small eye frequently makes it up by painting in the entire hollow below with blue grease-paint. The nose may be either shortened or lengthened, according to the character of its imperfections. The former may be accomplished by a slight darkening of the end just above the nostrils; the latter, by drawing a white line down the centre of the nose, and on either side of this another of bluish-grey tint. The nose which is too broad is helped by bringing the rouge of the cheeks well up on the sides; next, a thick layer of powder is laid over the entire make-up, and the whole is well blended with the stiff "blending-brush."

The last touch to the actress' facial make­is that given to the lips in the application of the brilliant-tinted lip rouge, necessarily vivid to give the contrast to the exaggerated tints of the rest of the face. The actress who is afflicted with a scrawny neck will paint all the lines and hollows with white grease-paint, concealing the artifice with thick layer of powder.

Again, it becomes necessary for players who have decided that their faces should be pictures to decide from what part of the theatre such works of art are to be viewed. Hence one finds, in the third-rate theatre, where the actor "plays to the gallery," that he is made up in much more vivid coloring than he who plays to the pit.

Skill in creating "character" make-up is a rare kind of genius, and among those who possess it May Robson, the celebrated American actress, is unique. Aside from her appearance in Are you a Mason? in which Miss Robson played the part of an elderly woman, she has scarcely shown her natural face to the public. In the gallery of "slaveys" such as she created in Foregone Conclusions, The Conquerors, and Lord and Lady Algy, her face was distorted until it became a freak, a caricature. That Miss Robson is a fresh, handsome woman, with a fair face and sparkling eyes, one would never guess from seeing her upon the stage. The art of "making up ugly" is consummate. Her success as "Little Poulette," the antiquated Parisian ballet-dancer in The Conquerors, was duplicated last season in Lady Huntworth's Experiment, in which Miss Robson's excruciatingly funny make-up excited much favorable criticism. Perhaps no other actress can get quite so much startling effect out of her nose as can Miss Robson. Most of her parts call for a turned-up nose, and, naturally, her own turns down. Describing how she made up her nose in Lady Huntworth's Experiment, she said: "I take a long, narrow piece of sticking­plaster and slit it in two half-way up. The upper part I paste on my fore­head between the eyes, and that brings the two slit parts on the sides of my nose. Each one of these I stick to the nostril so that it is caught up, and then, to prevent the skin of the nose from sticking out above the bridge, I place a strip of plaster flat over that. Of course, I can't wiggle my nose once it is made up, and as all the company know that, they do their best to make me laugh whenever they have the chance.

May Robson as herself, in Barbara Fidgety, in Sapolio, and making-up in her dressing room.

"In a play where I was cast for a negro girl," Miss Robson added, "I wore wood in my nose to make it thick and flat. I got the property-man to make two little round discs with holes through them, and I simply stuck them in my nostrils, which distended them until they were thick and flat."

Miss Robson is an adept in assuming curious poses and in the production of strange and startling effects. It is this skill, not only in facial make-up, but in carrying imitation into those other physical details which go to make up the artistic perfection of the whole - it is this gift which makes William Norris, the American comedian, impersonate Adonis, the court fool, in In the Palace of the King, in so notable a manner. Mr. Norris has always had a genius for make-up, the versatility of which was proved by his characterisation of Panagl in A Dangerous Maid, Peter Stuyvesant in The Burgomaster, and the Jewish poet Pinchas in The Children of the Ghetto. But in the part of Adonis, not only is his facial make-up perfect, denoting in every line that uncanny expression which is peculiar to the physically deformed, but the imitation carried into the back, bent with the curve peculiar to deformity and into the very motion of the knee-joints in walking. With the exception of some of Crane's impersonations there has not been more remarkable make-up since J. E. Dodson created the old-man character of John Weatherby in Because she Loved him so.

William Crane is generally conceded be the chief exponent of the art of character make­up in America. His different parts constitute a complete text-book in the art. His appearance in "David Harum" is a notable example of the perfection of his art. As I sat one night in his dressing-room, watching his little Japanese valet busying himself deftly with wigs and other accoutrements of make­up, and Crane himself gradually transforming his features into something wholly unlike themselves, I thought of a remark which Joseph Jefferson made to someone who was speaking of Crane's "luck": - "Fudge! fudge! don't talk of Crane's 'luck,' but of Crane's hard work." The effects which Mr. Crane succeeds in producing, appear the more wonderful when one learns that he is so near­sighted that he is obliged to make up in a magnifying­glass of exceedingly powerful degree.

"When I first began to act, there was no such thing as grease-paint," he said to me. "We used chalk instead, and for reddening, in place of rouge we used Chinese vermilion. The lines of the face we emphasised with India ink."

Just then Mr. Crane screwed his face up into a mass of wrinkles, and passed a rouge-paw over it lightly and rapidly, leaving the lines where the wrinkles would naturally come white. These lines he then traced with a pencil of dark brown grease­paint, leaving beyond each line a rim of white. Thus he gave his whole face an effect of corrugation, like that of a man who has lived much of his life out of doors and in all kinds of weather.

"Now, the book speaks of David Harum as having a mouth drooping at the corners," said Mr. Crane. And he proceeded to lengthen the mouth at either end by a short drooping mark of lip rouge, and to place a tiny dab of brown grease-paint below the mark. Mr. Crane's face is, naturally, rather long and thin. The effect of shortness necessary to the face of David Harum, he produces by darkening the lower part of his chin, thus throwing it into shadow; that of fulness by bringing the rouge well down over the jawbone. Instead of darkening his eyes as in a "straight" make-up, Mr. Crane smears them over with a stick of white grease-paint, making them resemble the burnt-off lashes of a man who has been much exposed to the sun, and also lending the eye an appearance of being small, shrewd and twinkling. The large mole "half the size of a pea" is made of jeweller's red cotton and is pasted on the face with spirit-gum. The last touch which Mr. Crane puts to his make-up is the mascara, which he applies with a sponge to his hands and lower arms to give them an aspect of tan. Not a detail of his make­up is ever neglected. The work on his face alone takes this actor just one half hour, and that when the season is well advanced and he is thoroughly accustomed to his make-up. No one understands better than Mr. Crane the part that make-up plays in an actor's success or failure. "The knowledge was borne forcefully home to me," he said, "on the second occasion when I essayed to play the part of Falstaff. I had played the part before, when Robson and I were in partnership. Then I went blithely upon the stage with the scantiest of preparation, knowing so little of the part, indeed, that I did not realise the limitations of my knowledge in that behalf until I had been upon the stage for some moments. I was hale and hearty at the time, however, stout, robust and overflowing with spirits, and my work in the part was warmly received. Years afterward, when I had grown in knowledge, it became my pet ambition to put an elaborate production of The Merry Wives of Windsor upon the boards, with myself in the role of Falstaff. I went to England to study for it. There I collected sketches, memoranda, etc. - everything which might aid me in a proper conception of the part. The costumes and scenery, also, were designed and executed on the other side under the personal direction of the man who had put on the production so successfully in England. Well, I spent three years studying for that part, and it was a failure. It failed because I was in such reduced physical condition as to make it impossible for me to 'look the part.' In the first instance, I looked the part without knowing anything about it, and it was a success. In the second instance, I knew all about the part, but did not look it, and it was a failure."

It is, indeed, well-nigh impossible to make the fat of figure lean or the lean convincingly fat; but, aside from this, there is almost no limit to the transmutations to be worked by make-up.

One or two marvellous examples of extreme make-up are illustrated by the pictures of Cavendish Morton, who is not only very skilful in this side of the dramatic art, but is also a clever amateur photographer who has made his own portraits. The pictures speak for themselves, and give an idea, even better than in the case of Mr. Norris, of the complete transformation that is possible to the figure. In regarding these portraits it must be remembered that they are photographed in the light of a studio or an ordinary room, for which the make-up was not prepared, and that the camera was nearer to them than would be the case with an audience. Therefore, striking as are these effects, they are not so perfect as they appear on the stage, with its special lighting.

Cavendish Morton as Cyrano de Gergerac and as Herod.

The following is a reproduction of an article providing advice to amateurs in the use and application of stage make-up. Following the article is some editorial on the need for make-up and some information about the make-up materials available to the Edwardian artiste.

The Playgoer and Society Illustrated (UK) - Volume 9, Number 49, September 1913.
ADVICE TO AMATEURS
By Willy Clarkson.

When the Editor of the PLAYGOER asked me to give him a few hints on make-up in general, and for the amateur in particular, I, of course, took it in the nature of a command, and herewith set down my views on the matter for what they are worth, with every hope that they may be of use.

"Make-up" is so essential to success on the stage from my point of view that everything should be accurate. Dressing of the wig, the hair on the face, the nose and the teeth, have all to be considered in the production of the natural effect. Each character wants studying from every standpoint, and I think it is very useful for the amateur to work from the sketch. The four P's are highly necessary - "Patience," "Pains," and "Plenty" of "Practice."

Make-up, I think I might say, has reached a fine art. I remember in the old days it was much neglected, and much was left to the imagination of the audience. Nowadays the illusion must be complete, otherwise the audience will not stand it.

Amateur acting has increased quite 100 per cent. during the last twenty years, and hence there is naturally a proportionate increase in the number of artistes. In London and the provinces there are hundreds of amateur operatic and dramatic clubs, whose members number several thousands, and I can say, without fear of contradiction whatever, that some, especially in London, the Midlands, and the North, are very keen and enthusiastic, in addition to being in a great number of instances both musical and dramatic; I have had the pleasure of witnessing some splendid performances by amateurs quite up to the level of some professional companies. Gilbert and Sullivan operas are still the favourites, and in my opinion likely to be. I have dressed as many as four different companies perforning "The Mikado" in one week.

But to return to the subject of make-up. Grease paints must not be employed too liberally. Best effects are obtained through a sparing use of the various paints, and I should advise before attempting to use them a course of instruction. (I give a course of lessons when desired.) The student will get much more valuable information from this, and he or she will have demonstrated to them the necessary and unnecessary points of make-up. Of course, the most difficult is what we call character "make-up." Naturally this requires a good deal of study and a good deal of practice. I know in the case of Sir Herbert Tree and Mr. Cyril Maude they practice and practise before a satisfactory result is obtained, and spare no pains in getting this properly arrived at.

Look at the wonderful transformation of Sir Herbert Tree's in which one evening he is "Falstaff," the great fat, hulking knight, and the other the starving "Gringoire." Truly a most wonderful transformation and a great achievement in disguise and "make-up." I know of no other such astonishing change done by one person on the stage in the same evening. I consider it a triumph.

Wigs, of course, are totally different from what they used to be in the old days. A wig for the stage is now made so perfectly and so true to nature that it is extremely difficult to discover from the front that it is not the person's own hair.

The boxes of make-up which I stock, containing all that is necessary, together with a book of instructions, are very useful; but there is nothing like practice, after having had experienced advice. This, of course, applies to any subject, let alone "make-up"; the thing is to be thorough.

Of course, "make-up" is done in private life a great deal more nowadays than it ever was, and here again has reached such perfection - providing it is applied, as I have seen it applied by many persons, artistically - that it is not easy to discern. I have noticed in connection with amateur theatrical performers a great tendency to lay on the "make-up" as if with a trowel, especially the black lining for the eyes, which gives the artiste the appearance of wearing a pair of spectacles. Black should not be used underneath the eyes in any case; always a soft blue. This applies to the top eyelid as well. Blue is so much softer than black. Of course, a little black after the powdering process is necessary. I never recommend belladonna under any circumstances, because of its injurious effects should it get into the eye. Yellowish-tinted powders and liquids are very largely used nowadays. I have a special preparation used extensively by Madame Sarah Bernhardt.

It is very difficult to explain fully all that one would like to in such a short space as this, because the subject is so wide one can keep on talking at a great length; .so I must conclude this little narrative by saying that at all times I am readv and willing to give information to anyone requiring it.

Oakland Tribune (USA) - 27th August, 1911
WONDERFUL EVOLUTION OF THE ART OF MAKING-UP

A French writer visiting the United States some years ago, said, in one of those pleasant little books, which foreigners love to write about us after their return home, that the fine "undressed" faces of American women always came as a dreadful shock to him as all French women "greatly enhanced their natural advantages."

If this gallant son of the great republic across seas were to pay us a visit today he would receive much fewer "shocks" upon meeting our women than formerly. As it is undoubtedly a fact, whether it is to be deplored or commended, that make-up is now a rapidly increasing art and practiced among American women, at least in the larger cities.

It is a matter of curious record in public print that at a play recently produced in New York — a play painting most harrowing emotions — a specially engaged maid in the women's cloakroom helped the overwrought women in the audience to repair the ravages of tears and strong feelings upon their delicately wrought faces. The room was crowded at the end of each performance with women who could not have appeared upon the street, with their furrowed, streaked complexions.

The original make-up was a mask. This covering, as a means of altering or disguising the human face, was conceived by primitive man long years before the use of paints and cosmetics for the same purpose were devised. By savage people masks were first used, not for the purpose of adding to the beauty of the wearer, but for the frightening away of demons or in religious rites.

In war times they were also extensively used by warriors. Another use to which they were put was in covering the faces of the dead.

USE OF MASKS

The use of masks in the drama of the ancients probably originated in the harvest festivities of the most ancient Greek peasantry. Subsequently they appear to have been associated with the representation of Satyro, Silermo and Bacchus in the orgies of the god of wine. The Greek tragedy was undoubtedly an outgrowth of their masks. For comedy purposes the mask was not used in the drama by the Greeks for some years after it was first employed in tragedy.

Gradually, regular types of masks were developed by the players expressive of fixed emotions for both comedy and tragedy. These masks were often provided with metal mouthpieces for the purpose of increasing the power of the voice, as was made necessary by the great size and openness of the ancient theaters.

The first departures from these masks were made by strolling Roman players, who stained and crudely marked their faces. The monks in the Middle Ages, also, when presenting miracle plays, endeavored to make up with some resemblance to the characters they reproduced. But the idea of detailed reproduction of the characters were even played in the dress of the day. Actors who at various times attempted to reproduce the character visually were hooted from the stage and ridiculed.

Before the present use of the grease paints, theatrical make-up was, to say the least, naive. Little black crayons in tubes, called "Crayon d'Italle," were used to underline the eyelids and darken brows and lashes. Besides this, prepared chalk, carmine and rouge, were more, or less casually applied. To imitate a stubble beard, rough brown wrapping paper was burned and the ashes rubbed on chin and cheeks. A blackened hairpin or needle, or the charred end of a match, was used to make wrinkles. Beards and mustaches of different shades of wool were stuck on either with fish lime or a solution of shellac. The lights in the theater were very dim.

OF THIS AGE

The real art of make-up, both on and off the stage, really belongs to our time and generation. It is truly one of the wonders of the twentieth century.

The mothers of the past generation would have closed their doors on the faintest suspicion of rouge — of anything more subtle than powder. "Paint," as all these aids to beauty were termed, was anathema. A struggling would-be fair one, when grandma was a girl, might sleep with her face in a medicated plaster, she might apply herbs and lotions, and imbibe mixtures noxious or of a fairy delicacy; but the desired pink and white or cream and roses must not be frankly applied to the skin which refused to protect them. But nowadays many women of position "make up" their faces as they wave their hair or manicure their nails.

The perfection and naturalness of the make-up depend in a large measure upon choosing shades of rouge and powder to blend with the natural coloring. Many, a disastrous make-up has resulted from the wholesale duplication by a blond of a dark friend's materials.

No two make-ups are exactly alike. Usually the ordinary woman, who makes up her face errs rather in the selection of the proper shades than in an overheavy application. Very rarely does one see in everyday life the appearance of staring artificiality given by too much rouge, heavily lined eyebrows and vulgarly over-colored lips, which all goes to show the high state of perfection which has been arrived at in the art.

Polaire, the clever French actress, uses the height of art in her make-up. She has studied her peculiar style and seeks to emphasize it. On the stage her swarthy skin, her overshadowing mass of short brown hair and her great subtly made-up eyes make a perfectly consistent picture, beautifully set in the peculiar shade of blue which she affects. Her rough hewn features and large mouth are unnoticed in the vivid play of her expression and in the effect of a harmonious whole. One cannot help feeling sure, noting Polaire's genius in these matters, that the exploitation of her famous 14-inch waist must be laid to the account of her press agent. The clever Poiaire, if this eccentricity is natural, would certainly have preferred, aside from advertising advantages, to have concealed or disguised it, rather than to flaunt it before the eyes of a supposedly admiring public.

SUPERB GENIUS

A superb genius in her make-up is Mary Garden. This mature woman in her characterization of Salome really presents the appearance of a 14-year old girl, as opposed to her equally perfect picture of Thais. And her admirers, fresh from these and other turgid roles, gazed with amazement at the little Jongleur.

In these days of the high art of the make up the test of a good one is the appearance of naturalness. The intelligent actress uses her pigment so as to bring out her own natural advantages. This is so distinctly an advantage over a disfiguringly heavy make up that it is often claimed exclusively by the principals in a theatrical cast, who object if minor characters make up with the same delicacy. Chorus girls and show girls are often criticised for a want of taste and stupidity in this direction when they themselves are perfectly aware of this disadvantage.

Upon the stage the art of make up is by no means confined to the feminine element. The late Richard Mansfield was a past master of make up. It is told of J. E. Dodson, who was also clever with make up, that when he was playing the Jew in "After Dark" he was asked for after the performance by a Jewish gentleman. Upon Dodson's presenting himself with "What can I do for you?" the gentleman replied, "I want Mr. Dodson, the actor. "Yes, I am he!" Dodson replied. "No, no," said the other placing his finger on his nose, "he is one of us."

COLD CREAM FIRST

A theatrical make up usually consists of a coating first of cold cream. After this comes the blending of the foundation, either grease paint of a very light shade or a mixture of cream and powder. The cheeks are then rouged, always with a hare's foot as a chamois or sponge is apt to streak, and the eyebrows and lashes darkened.

Tinting the lips follows, and this is done with some judgment in following the natural lines. If the mouth is too large, however, the foundation color on the cheeks is carried beyond the corners of the mouth. Often a faint touch of rouge is added to the tips of the ears as well, after which the face is powdered over with a blending brush working from the middle of the forehead to either side down the cheeks, and from the nose downward toward the chin and neck.

In addition, features are added and subtracted with a marvelous celerity by the present day actor. Snub noses are cleverly built up into Greek or Roman shapes, a line placed just right produces or disguises a hollow, high cheek bones or a too forceful chin are eliminated by an expert touch of powder.

Comedians with sharp faces build up their cheeks for parts requiring a full face. This is done by layers of cotton wadding of diminishing sizes stuck against the cheeks and afterward colored with grease paints. One inevitable result of this is to make any sort of expression impossible — the face is practically a mask.

AWAY FROM THE FOOTLIGHTS

A much lighter make up is used by the actress for street or restaurant — a coating first of liquid powder applied with a silk sponge. After this dry rouge is applied and blended, and darkening touches to the eyebrows and lashes. This lighter make up, also with all sorts of variations, is used by the non-professional.

The liquid powder is used also upon neck and arms, coated very thinly, lest it crack or peel or produce a streaked appearance. After this, powder may be applied if desired.

But after all no fixed rules can be put down on paper for make up: it is an art, pure and simple, which must be studied like painting, or music.

Portsmouth Herald (USA) - 24th March, 1900
FACES ON THE STAGE
TRICKS BY WHICH THEY MAY DEFY THE FOOTLIGHTS
No Natural Complexion, However Brilliant, Is Proof Against Their Glare — Methos of Professionals In Making Up

"There is no excuse for a bad make up." So runs the legend to be read weekly in the advertising columns of a leading theatrical newspaper. Yet bad make ups abound both on and off the stage. Despite precepts and awful examples, it seems that some women will not learn certain simple truths, as, for instance, that theatrical rouge should not be used in the open air by daylight; that the eyebrows should never be made more than a shade darker than the natural hair of the head at its darkest; that bright red lip salve makes the teeth look abominably yellow unless they happen to be exceptionally white; that none but the blondest of blonds should ever wear dead white powder; that liquid make up of any kind should never be used by daylight and as sparingly as possible by night, and, last and most important of all, that the lower eyelid should not under any circumstances be darkened.

Blue or gray eyes are more effective on the stage than very dark ones. A pair of blue eyes delicately shaded on the upper lids, with the eyelashes carefully blackened and afterward combed out, "get over the footlight" in a remarkable way, whereas large and naturally handsome black eyes are apt — unless blue or black make up be practically eschewed and the complexions be most carefully toned — to look, in stage parlance, "like burned holes in a blanket."

Undoubtedly fair skins, light hair, and light eyes are far better materials with which to produce stage beauty and effectiveness than brunette attractions. A dark woman's nose continually stands in her light. If she makes it up with white powder, it shines as a pillar of salt; if she tones it down to suit the black eyes and hair, it is apt to look red and hilarious.

A regular revolution bas been effected in the dressing room by the now almost universal use of "wig paste," or "grease paint." Certain old school actors and actresses still resent the substitution of grease paints for the dry, powdery make ups of former years. A few old time actors whom I have met prided themselves upon their use of "dry colors," but there is very little doubt that if sparingly applied upon an absolutely clean face and carefully powdered over there is nothing which produces so smooth and natural looking a surface as grease paint.

A few years ago while playing at a theater in Chicago I arrived late and, darting through a dark archway which had always been open, broke the bridge of my nose and cut my skin very severely against a closed door. There was nobody to take my part, so I had to go on. Somebody dressed me, somebody "made me up," while I screamed and cried with pain. Until that night I had looked preposterously young as the mother of a boy at least 15 years my senior, but that night after the first scene the manager came around to compliment me on my "improved make up," my features being so swollen that all trace of youth was lost. After my accident I was afraid of injuring the skin and had the grease paint analyzed by a local druggist, with the result that he assured me it was "almost all tallow" and would rather tend to heal than to poison a cut in the skin.

Of course grease paint, like every other form of make up, can be overdone. In a passionate love scene the well greased cheek of the lovely heroine has been known to stick to the equally well greased cheek of her ardent stage lover, but then a desirable make up for a realistic love scene has yet to be invented. The public, who are so exceedingly inquisitive on the subject of an emotional actress feelings toward the actor with whom she habitually plays love scenes, might judge more clearly of their nature could they hear her in her dressing room bewail the disastrous effect of such a stage direction as "takes her in his arms and embraces her passionately" upon the heroine's make up.

On hot nights making up is a misery, the paint rolling off in pellets, while the liquid make up for the hands, neck and arms to which I have alluded is always inclined to turn black upon the skin and invariably ruins the dress of the lady who wears it, as well as the coat sleeves of the men performers. I have tried all sorts of prescriptions, cheap and dear, but I have never yet discovered one that was really satisfactory.

Masculine make up is, if my sex will forgive me for saying so, an infinitely more elaborate and artistic thing than the pink and white and yellow ideal of beauty which most actresses strive to attain.

What woman ever could or would equal Mr. Beerbohm Tree, for instance, in the versatility, the absolute perfection of his different stage appearances? Mr. Tree is young or old, handsome or ugly, stout or thin, virtuous or absolutely diabolical in appearance at will. I have never seen any actor who can transform himself so thoroughly and yet look at a short distance so lifelike as he. How he contrives it I have not the least idea. In interviews he appears to make light of this very remarkable gift. He has light eyes and light hair in his favor to start with, but his results are marvelous.

Amateurs always make up badly. They fail to "join their flats" ie., to blend the complexion of the face into the whitened neck. If men, they wear mustaches in powder parts and invariably fail to conceal their own hair at the back of their wigs. If women, they overrouge, bringing the color right up to the lower eyelids instead of toning it off, as color comes in real life. They also make the very great mistake of putting on too much paint and powder about the mouth, which should be left as free as possible for two reasons — first, because paint is apt to turn black upon the upper lip, and, second, because it is impossible to express emotion facially unless the muscles of the mouth have full play.

After Mme. Duse's first appearance in America a good many of our Actresses tried to imitate her by discarding make ups altogether, but no skin, howevor brilliant, can stand the unnatural glare of the footlights and look anything but pallid, dirty and unwholesome, and it is always a marvel to me that in these days of artistic mounting and settlng those villainous footlights, which distort nature and caricature beauty, cannot be done away with altogether.

The loveliest woman in evening dress, once she closely approaches those fatal footlights, becomes — unless she be abnormally stout — little bettor than t study in collar bones. No natural beauty and no make up, however artistic, is proof against them.