But will it ever come to America? For now, forsooth, there are some members of the dramatic profession in this country who avow their intention of appealing to Congress to regulate American taste by law, and to exclude foreign actors under the contract-labor statute. This brilliant idea originated in the fertile brain of Mr. Louis Aldrich, and was nursed by the Actors' Order of Friendship. Into this Order Messrs. Booth and Barrett were initiated with darkened windows and mysterious rites, for the express purpose of fixing the stamp of their approval upon the scheme. A delegation appeared before Congressman Ford's Immigration Committee and begged that the proposed undemocratic exclusion law shall contain a provision against the landing of foreign pauper actors.
But these gentlemen lacked in logic what they possessed in assurance. They were willing to except "stars" from the operation of the law. Well, why not exclude "stars"? Do they not compete quite as much with American talent as the humbler aspirants of the stage? Even a "star" of the magnitude of Louis Aldrich himself would probably find his rays outshone in the presence of the brighter effulgence of an Irving or a Coquelin. It is the "stars" who compete most with native talent, and on this principle they should be the first excluded. Besides that, if they are excepted, who is to define a "star"? It would be amusing to see the Supreme Court of the United States gravely sitting in judgment on such a question. By all means, Mr. Aldrich, return at once to Washington and amend your petition. Let Mr. Ford include "stars" also in his bill. And then let every protectionist crank in the country have absolute exclusion of every possible competitor and of all kinds of goods that he wants to sell, and pay a bounty to the farmers for their crops, and then we shall all be able to raise ourselves by our boot-straps into a region of perfect happiness.
Of course there are two sides to every question, and, not wishing to do an injustice, we will give the one maintained by the petitioners. We have a law prohibiting the importation of labor contracted for abroad. This law the courts hold is applicable to cooks, coachmen, and ministers of the Gospel. Now why should an exception be made in behalf of a theatrical manager who contracts for a lot of actors, more or less cheap, in London, to play for him in the United States? Mr. Aldrich does not ask that the man, be he star or stock, who comes of his own motives shall be prohibited; but he does protest against the importation of the cheap histrionic labor which is brought here, precisely as other skilled or unskilled labor is got over, to compete with the same labor in the United States. In other words, it is not a question of taste, but one of bread.
Another fact is overlooked that has a decided bearing on the question. In all matters of art we are such a set of snobs that we cannot recognize any merit in our artists until after they have been indorsed by English critics and English audiences. If any law can be enacted to correct this miserable condition, let us have it at an early day. We know that the greatest actress known to the English-speaking world—our Clara Morris—has failed to secure the fame and fortune to which her genius entitled her simply because she neglected to secure English approbation—which would have been heartily given her had she ever appeared in London.
Nor is it true that English stock is preferred to the American product because of its superior excellence. Mr. Daly has shown the absurdity of this claim by taking his admirable company to London and carrying off the honors. In the face of this and every other fact, we are told that the English comedian doing the society drama is superior to ours because of his superior social position. That is something to be relegated to the things which amuse. There is an adaptability about the American that makes him at home in all conditions. It is possible for an American actor to wear a dress suit with an ease that is rivalled only by the French. What is the good of calling on an Englishman to do on the stage what no Englishman can accomplish in private life? If there is a John Bull on earth who can wear a dress suit with ease and elegance, he has not yet been discovered.
There now, we have given both sides.
Mr. Edwin Booth offered his brother-actors a much better kind of protection when, on New Year's Eve, he presented to them "The Players'" club-house, with its fine library and its treasures of dramatic art. After all, education and self-development are the only legitimate means of attaining success; and he who offers his fellow-beings facilities for improvement and self-help is a far greater benefactor to them than he who endeavors to apply restrictive methods. Such an institution has been Mr. Booth's dream for years. It is a spacious house at No. 16 Gramercy Place, adjoining the residence of the late Samuel J. Tilden. Mr. Booth purchased it for $75,000, and spent $125,000 in alterations. The library is probably the finest collection of dramatic literature in the world. Twelve hundred volumes were presented by Mr. Booth, and two thousand by Lawrence Barrett, besides a large number of rare works given by Augustin Daly, T. B. Aldrich, Laurence Hutton, and others. It was a touching scene when, a few moments before the old year died, Mr. Booth placed in the hands of Augustin Daly for the Players' Club the title-deeds to this magnificent property, and blushing like a girl before the assembled actors, listened awkwardly to the simple words which Mr. Daly spoke in reply. Then just after the midnight bells had rung he turned and lit the Yule log, and the players began the enjoyment of their new home.
A few days afterwards Mr. Booth closed his very successful metropolitan engagement at the Fifth Avenue Theatre with "The Fool's Revenge," Lawrence Barrett appearing in "Yorick's Love," and both the tragedians started on a Southern tour.
Miss Mary Anderson appears in a late issue of a sensational publication as a severe censor of society ladies addicted to attempts upon the stage. We say Mary Anderson; for her name appears at the end of the article, and as she is a woman, we will not venture to say that the property claimed is not her own. Some rude critics have charged that Mary did not make this up out of her own fair head; and throughout the profession a state of mind exists that is not complimentary to the would-be authoress.
The queerest part of the business, however, is, that such strictures should come from Miss Anderson. She raided the stage as a society woman, and struck at once for the honors. There was, if we remember rightly, no long, weary preparation and laborious training for the footlights. She went from the parlor to the greenroom, and she went in with a flourish. She was of Kentucky birth, and Henry Watterson, whose bright intellect is only surpassed by his good heart, not only indorsed the ambitious society girl, but made up his mind to put Mary down the American throat whether the people would or not. Mary was not unpalatable to the American taste, but Watterson is her father—that is, dramatically speaking.