_Question_. It is reported that you have been retained as counsel
for the Actors' Order of Friendship--the Edwin Forrest Lodge of
New York, and the Shakespeare Lodge of Philadelphia--for the purpose
of securing the necessary legislation to protect American actors--
is that so?
_Answer_. Yes, I have been retained for that purpose, and the
object is simply that American actors may be put upon an equal
footing with Americans engaged in other employments. There is a
law now which prevents contractors going abroad and employing
mechanics or skilled workmen, and bringing them to this country to
take the places of our citizens.
No one objects to the English, German and French mechanics coming
with their wives and children to this country and making their
homes here. Our ports are open, and have been since the foundation
of this Government. Wages are somewhat higher in this country than
in any other, and the man who really settles here, who becomes, or
intends to become an American citizen, will demand American wages.
But if a manufacturer goes to Europe, he can make a contract there
and bring hundreds and thousands of mechanics to this country who
will work for less wages than the American, and a law was passed
to prevent the American manufacturer, who was protected by a tariff,
from burning the laborer's candle at both ends. That is to say,
we do not wish to give him the American price, by means of a tariff,
and then allow him to go to Europe and import his labor at the
European price.
In the law, actors were excepted, and we now find the managers are
bringing entire companies from the old county, making contracts
with them there, and getting them at much lower prices than they
would have had to pay for American actors.
No one objects to a foreign actor coming here for employment, but
we do not want an American manager to go there, and employ him to
act here. No one objects to the importation of a star. We wish
to see and hear the best actors in the world. But the rest of the
company--the support--should be engaged in the United States, if
the star speaks English.
I see that it is contended over in England, that English actors
are monopolizing the American stage because they speak English,
while the average American actor does not. The real reason is that
the English actor works for less money--he is the cheaper article.
Certainly no one will accuse the average English actor of speaking
English. The hemming and hawing, the aristocratic stutter, the
dropping of h's and picking them up at the wrong time, have never
been popular in the United States, except by way of caricature.
Nothing is more absurd than to take the ground that the English
actors are superior to the American. I know of no English actor
who can for a moment be compared with Joseph Jefferson, or with
Edwin Booth, or with Lawrence Barrett, or with Denman Thompson,
and I could easily name others.
If English actors are so much better than American, how is it that
an American star is supported by the English? Mary Anderson is
certainly an American actress, and she is supported by English
actors. Is it possible that the superior support the inferior?
I do not believe that England has her equal as an actress. Her
Hermione is wonderful, and the appeal to Apollo sublime. In Perdita
she "takes the winds of March with beauty." Where is an actress
on the English stage the superior of Julia Marlowe in genius, in
originality, in naturalness?
Is there any better Mrs. Malaprop than Mrs. Drew, and better Sir
Anthony than John Gilbert? No one denies that the English actors
and actresses are great. No one will deny that the plays of
Shakespeare are the greatest that have been produced, and no one
wishes in any way to belittle the genius of the English people.
In this country the average person speaks fairly good English, and
you will find substantially the same English spoken in most of the
country; whereas in England there is a different dialect in almost
every county, and most of the English people speak the language as
if was not their native tongue. I think it will be admitted that
the English write a good deal better than they speak, and that
their pronunciation is not altogether perfect.
These things, however, are not worth speaking of. There is no
absolute standard. They speak in the way that is natural to them,
and we in the way that is natural to us. This difference furnishes
no foundation for a claim of general superiority. The English
actors are not brought here on account of their excellence, but on
account of their cheapness. It requires no great ability to play
the minor parts, or the leading roles in some plays, for that
matter. And yet acting is a business, a profession, a means of
getting bread.
We protect our mechanics and makers of locomotives and of all other
articles. Why should we not protect, by the same means, the actor?
You may say that we can get along without actors. So we can get
along without painters, without sculptors and without poets. But
a nation that gets along without these people of genius amounts to
but little. We can do without music, without players and without
composers; but when we take art and poetry and music and the theatre
out of the world, it becomes an exceedingly dull place.
Actors are protected and cared for in proportion that people are
civilized. If the people are intelligent, educated, and have
imaginations, they enjoy the world of the stage, the creations of
poets, and they are thrilled by great music, and, as a consequence,
respect the dramatist, the actor and the musician.
_Question_. It is claimed that an amendment to the law, such as
is desired, will interfere with the growth of art?
_Answer_. No one is endeavoring to keep stars from this country.
If they have American support, and the stars really know anything,
the American actors will get the benefit. If they bring their
support with them, the American actor is not particularly benefitted,
and the star, when the season is over, takes his art and his money
with him.
Managers who insist on employing foreign support are not sacrificing
anything for art. Their object is to make money. They care nothing
for the American actor--nothing for the American drama. They look
for the receipts. It is the sheerest cant to pretend that they
are endeavoring to protect art.
On the 26th of February, 1885, a law was passed making it unlawful
"for any person, company, partnership or corporation, in any manner
whatsoever, to prepay the transportation, or in any way assist or
encourage the importation or emigration of any alien or aliens into
the United States, under contract or agreement, parol or special,
previous to the importation or emigration of such aliens to perform
labor or services of any kind the United States."
By this act it was provided that its provisions should not apply
to professional actors, artists, lecturers or singers, in regard
to persons employed strictly as personal or domestic servants.
The object now in view is so to amend the law that its provision
shall apply to all actors except stars.
_Question_. In this connection there has been so much said about
the art of acting--what is your idea as to that art?
_Answer_. Above all things in acting, there must be proportion.
There are no miracles in art or nature. All that is done--every
inflection and gesture--must be in perfect harmony with the
circumstances. Sensationalism is based on deformity, and bears
the same relation to proportion that caricature does to likeness.
The stream that flows even with its banks, making the meadows green,
delights us ever; the one that overflows surprises for a moment.
But we do not want a succession of floods.
In acting there must be natural growth, not sudden climax. The
atmosphere of the situation, the relation sustained to others,
should produce the emotions. Nothing should be strained. Beneath
domes there should be buildings, and buildings should have foundations.
There must be growth. There should be the bud, the leaf, the
flower, in natural sequence. There must be no leap from naked
branches to the perfect fruit.
Most actors depend on climax--they save themselves for the supreme
explosion. The scene opens with a slow match and ends when the
spark reaches the dynamite. So, most authors fill the first act
with contradictions and the last with explanations. Plots and
counter-plots, violence and vehemence, perfect saints and perfect
villains--that is to say, monsters, impelled by improbable motives,
meet upon the stage, where they are pushed and pulled for the sake
of the situation, and where everything is so managed that the fire
reaches the powder and the explosion is the climax.
There is neither time, nor climate, nor soil, in which the emotions
and intentions may grow. No land is plowed, no seed is sowed, no
rain falls, no light glows--the events are all orphans.
No one would enjoy a sudden sunset--we want the clouds of gold that
float in the azure sea. No one would enjoy a sudden sunrise--we
are in love with the morning star, with the dawn that modestly
heralds the day and draws aside, with timid hands, the curtains of
the night. In other words, we want sequence, proportion, logic,
beauty.
There are several actors in this country who are in perfect accord
with nature--who appear to make no effort--whose acting seems to
give them joy and rest. We do well what we do easily. It is a
great mistake to exhaust yourself, instead of the subject. All
great actors "fill the stage" because they hold the situation.
You see them and nothing else.
_Question_. Speaking of American actors, Colonel, I believe you
are greatly interested in the playing of Miss Marlowe, and have
given your opinion of her as Parthenia; what do you think of her
Julia and Viola?
_Answer_. A little while ago I saw Miss Marlowe as Julia, in "The
Hunchback." We must remember the limitations of the play. Nothing
can excel the simplicity, the joyous content of the first scene.
Nothing could be more natural than the excitement produced by the
idea of leaving what you feel to be simple and yet good, for what
you think is magnificent, brilliant and intoxicating. It is only
in youth that we are willing to make this exchange. One does not
see so clearly in the morning of life when the sun shines in his
eyes. In the afternoon, when the sun is behind him, he sees better
--he is no longer dazzled. In old age we are not only willing,
but anxious, to exchange wealth and fame and glory and magnificence,
for simplicity. All the palaces are nothing compared with our
little cabin, and all the flowers of the world are naught to the
wild rose that climbs and blossoms by the lowly window of content.
Happiness dwells in the valleys with the shadows.
The moment Julia is brought in contact with wealth, she longs for
the simple--for the true love of one true man. Wealth and station
are mockeries. These feelings, these emotions, Miss Marlowe rendered
not only with look and voice and gesture, but with every pose of
her body; and when assured that her nuptials with the Earl could
be avoided, the only question in her mind was as to the absolute
preservation of her honor--not simply in fact, but in appearance,
so that even hatred could not see a speck upon the shining shield
of her perfect truth. In this scene she was perfect--everything
was forgotten except the desire to be absolutely true.
So in the scene with Master Walter, when he upbraids her for
forgetting that she is about to meet her father, when excusing her
forgetfulness on the ground that he has been to her a father.
Nothing could exceed the delicacy and tenderness of this passage.
Every attitude expressed love, gentleness, and a devotion even unto
death. One felt that there could be no love left for the father
she expected to meet--Master Walter had it all.
A greater Julia was never on the stage--one in whom so much passion
mingled with so much purity. Miss Marlowe never "o'ersteps the
modesty of nature." She maintains proportion. The river of her
art flows even with the banks.
In Viola, we must remember the character--a girl just rescued from
the sea--disguised as a boy--employed by the Duke, whom she instantly
loves--sent as his messenger to woo another for him--Olivia enamored
of the messenger--forced to a duel--mistaken for her brother by
the Captain, and her brother taken for herself by Olivia--and yet,
in the midst of these complications and disguises, she remains a
pure and perfect girl--these circumstances having no more real
effect upon her passionate and subtle self than clouds on stars.
When Malvolio follows and returns the ring the whole truth flashes
upon her. She is in love with Orsino--this she knows. Olivia,
she believes, is in love with her. The edge of the situation, the
dawn of this entanglement, excites her mirth. In this scene she
becomes charming--an impersonation of Spring. Her laughter is as
natural and musical as the song of a brook. So, in the scene with
Olivia in which she cries, "Make me a willow cabin at your gate!"
she is the embodiment of grace, and her voice is as musical as the
words, and as rich in tone as they are in thought.
In the duel with Sir Andrew she shows the difference between the
delicacy of woman and the cowardice of man. She does the little
that she can, not for her own sake, but for the sake of her disguise
--she feels that she owes something to her clothes.
But I have said enough about this actress to give you an idea of
one who is destined to stand first in her profession.
We will now come back to the real question. I am in favor of
protecting the American actor. I regard the theatre as the civilizer
of man. All the arts united upon the stage, and the genius of the
race has been lavished on this mimic world.
--_New York Star_, December 23, 1888.