AMERICAN AND FOREIGN THEATRES.
UNTIL late years, the stage decorations of American theatres have been of so poor a description that ray first entrance into a prominent London theatre, about ten years ago, struck me wiih speechless astonishment at the beauty of the mise en scéne, which was far above anything I had ever seen in America—of whose theatres I had been a habitué, both "in front" and "behind the scenes," since my earliest childhood. The play, I remember, was one in which Miss Amy Sedgwick appeared, and the whole performance was so good that it was to me like a revelation in histrionic art.
Passing my time about equally between Paris and London for the six years following this event, I was able to form a pretty correct idea of theatrical matters in these two centres of civilization, and to compare their theatres with those of America when I returned to my native country in '62. Then I found that American managers had discovered the great fact that comfortable seats in the auditorium, plenty of chandeliers, and the tabooing of babies in arms, were not all that was required to make a play attractive, and had consequently begun to adopt the European plan of "mounting" every piece which they thought destined for a "run." This needed reform soon bore its fruits; and now it is not too much to say that New York can safely compete in almost every respect with any London theatre, whatever its grade. I dare not extend the boastful comparison to the theatres of Paris, for the trail of the Gymnase is over me still, and the halo of the Comedie Francaise is as bright a nimbus in memory's heaven as though five years, headed by a rebellion, punctured with a war, closed with a peace, had not passed since I sat in that classic temple and listened to "Britannicus." Many pieces which have been brought out in London and considered well mounted there, have been transferred to New York and placed upon the stage in such a way as quite to throw their original decking into the shade. As an instance, I may cite the comedy of "Ours," which an English officer who had seen the piece in London and had taken a great interest in it on account of having served in the Crimean war, told me was placed on the stage at Wallack's Theatre so much better than in London as almost to be unrecognizable. This was not due, however, to the superiority of the scenic artists—for in this direction the Americans are not yet to be compared to the English—but to the extreme care bestowed upon other details by the management: the reckless extrav-
