II
The first thing we find when we undertake investigation is that the organization of the theater here and now is unlike any other which has ever existed anywhere else. In Greece the annual performances were in the hands of the state. In Rome performances were given gratuitously, more often than not, the cost being borne by an aspiring politician wishing to win the suffrages of the mob. In the Middle Ages the performances were at first in the churches under the complete control of the priests; and later they were out-of-doors on church festivals, and in charge of the gilds. In Shakspere’s time and in Molière’s a number of the more important actors associated themselves together, arranged for a theater, hired the subordinate performers, and divided the takings at the door, share and share alike. In these companies one of the actors undertook the function of manager, representing his comrades and more or less guiding their fortunes. But these managers had only so much authority as might be delegated to them by their fellow-sharers; they were not autocrats, engaging and discharging the members of the company according to their own caprice; their risk or their profit was not larger than that of their associates.
In the company at the Globe theater, Burbage seems to have been the dominant personality; yet from all we have been able to gather, we may venture a guess that Shakspere, with his gift for friendship, his solidity of character and his shrewdness in business, was probably the second in command, so to speak. In the company at the Palais Royal Molière was the honored chief, to whom his fellow-players were loyally devoted; but the associated actors managed their affairs in town-meeting and as an actor Molière shared equally with the others, altho he received extra allowances from time to time to reward his special service as the stock-playwright of the theater. This type of organization is still seen now and again in the United States, when a company, deserted by its manager, continues its existence as a commonwealth; and it is the type which has been preserved by the Comédie-Française in Paris ever since this company was established by Molière.
The French government provides the theater and also an annual subvention, in return for which it designates a manager, who has a stated salary, and also his equal share of the profits. But this appointed manager is not supreme; he can make no important decision without the advice and consent of the committee chosen by the associated actors. He is in fact an executive only; and his relations with the company depend on his tact, his ability and his powers of persuasion. If he has these qualifications, and if he is successful in rolling up the profits which are annually divided by the associated actors (and which are in addition to their modest salaries) he may be allowed more or less to have his own way. If, on the other hand, he is fussy and feeble, and especially if the receipts fall off, then the associated actors make his life a burden and the last state of that manager is worse than the first.
Altho this type of organization has many evident advantages, and altho it was once almost universal in France, in England, and in Italy, it has been generally abandoned in favor of a simpler type, whereby the power and the profit are concentrated in the hands of a manager who is solely responsible for the recruiting of the company, for the choice of the plays and for the debts of the concern. The change seems to have taken place slowly; and Colley Cibber was one of three actors who directed the destiny of the theater to which he was attached. Yet at that very time the rival theater was most autocratically managed by an illiterate speculator named Rich.
The reason for the change is not far to seek. The management of a theater is, after all, a complicated business enterprize, exceedingly difficult to conduct successfully; and a business enterprize is always one man’s job. A commonwealth is impossible unless there is the cordiality which makes for co-operation; and actors are often super-abundantly endowed with the artistic temperament which makes them kittle cattle to drive. Even in Paris, it would probably be impossible to start a rival company to the Comédie-Française, organized on the same basis. Indeed, the Comédie-Française itself has more than once been on the edge of shipwreck; its most popular actors and actresses have deserted it from time to time, Rachel and Sarah Bernhardt, Coquelin and Lebargy; and its continued existence is due to the cohesive force of its inherited traditions, some of which go back to Molière, while others are codified in the famous decree signed at Moscow by Napoleon.
In the eighteenth century the two rival theaters in London, Covent Garden and Drury Lane, were managed for long periods by George Colman the elder and by David Garrick; they had secured as members of their respective companies almost every actor and actress in Great Britain who had achieved eminence; and the companies they collected remained almost unchanged from year to year, new recruits being drafted from the provinces only as the veterans ceased to lag superfluous on the stage. As the result of this continuity of association the tragedians and the comedians knew each other intimately and they were accustomed to the team-play which is essential to an effective performance.
In the nineteenth century, Montigny made the Gymnase the most attractive playhouse in Paris, excepting only the Théâtre Français. Madame Vestris gave a temporary vogue to Covent Garden; and Buckstone held the reins for a longer period at the Haymarket. In New York there were stock-companies of a similar permanence, altho of a less even excellence, first at the Park Theater, next at Burton’s and finally at Wallack’s and at Daly’s. In Boston, R. M. Field at the Museum was able to keep together, for a term of years, in fact, for more than a quarter of a century, a strong and coherent company of comedians headed by William Warren; and in San Francisco for a briefer period John McCullough and Lawrence Barrett surrounded themselves with actors and actresses of undeniable ability.
It was only in the last third of the nineteenth century that this type of theatrical organization slowly disappeared. When the Bancrofts had firmly established themselves in London in the little Prince of Wales’s Theater, they began to engage actors not for the whole of a single theatrical season, but only for the run of the piece. It is true that half-a-dozen of the more important performers remained with them and were provided with parts in play after play; but there was no longer any permanence in the membership of the company. The example of the Bancrofts was followed by the Kendals, by Wyndham and by Hare, and even by Henry Irving. These managers all engaged special performers to suit the characters of the successive plays that they produced; and they were thus relieved of the increasing expense of maintaining a stock-company capable of presenting any kind of play, comedy or tragedy or melodrama. As England is only a comparatively small island and as the multiplying railroads made it easily accessible from all parts of the kingdom, people from the provinces flocked to the capital and the plays presented in London ran for constantly increasing periods, from a hundred to even a thousand nights. And during these runs the manager was not paying salaries to actors whose names were absent from the program. So it came about that the stock-companies ceased to be and that the leading performers became part-time workers, appearing now in one playhouse and now in another, and yet fairly familiar with the methods of the other performers likely to be engaged with them for any new play or for any revival of an old play.