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Title: The Life of David Belasco; Vol. 1
Author: Winter, William
Language: English
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THE LIFE OF
DAVID BELASCO
VOLUME ONE
THE RECENT
WORKS OF WILLIAM WINTER
OTHER DAYS., Being Chronicles and Memories of The Stage (1908).
OLD FRIENDS., Being Literary Recollections of Other Days (1909).
POEMS (Definitive Edition--1909).
LIFE AND ART OF RICHARD MANSFIELD (Two Volumes--1910).
SHAKESPEARE’S ENGLAND (Revised and Augmented--1910).
GRAY DAYS AND GOLD (Revised and Augmented--1911).
OVER THE BORDER (Scotch Companion to Above--1911).
SHAKESPEARE ON THE STAGE,--_First Series_: 1911. I. “Shakespeare
Spells Ruin.” II. King Richard III. III. The Merchant of Venice.
IV. Othello. V. Hamlet. VI. Macbeth. VII. King Henry VIII.
SHAKESPEARE ON THE STAGE,--_Second Series_: 1915. I. Twelfth Night.
II. Romeo and Juliet. III. As You Like It. IV. King Lear. V. The
Taming of the Shrew. VI. Julius Cæsar.
SHAKESPEARE ON THE STAGE,--_Third Series_: 1916. I. Cymbeline. II.
Love’s Labor’s Lost. III. Coriolanus. IV. A Midsummer Night’s
Dream. V. King Henry IV.,--First and Second Parts. VI. The Merry
Wives of Windsor. VII. Antony and Cleopatra. VIII. King John.
LIVES OF THE PLAYERS:--I. Tyrone Power (1912).
THE WALLET OF TIME, Containing Personal, Biographical, and Critical
Reminiscence of the American Theatre (Two Volumes--1913).
VAGRANT MEMORIES, Being Further Recollections of Other Days (1915).
THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO (Two Volumes--1918).
[Illustration]
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
“_If he come not, then the play is marred!_”
--Shakespeare
From a portrait by the Misses Selby, New York.
Author’s Collection.]
THE LIFE
OF
DAVID BELASCO
BY
WILLIAM WINTER
(1836-1917)
“He, being dead, yet speaketh.”
VOLUME ONE
NEW YORK
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
JEFFERSON WINTER
_All Rights Reserved_
TO
THE MEMORY OF
REINA MARTIN BELASCO
This Memoir of Her Son
DAVID BELASCO
Actor, Dramatist, and Manager,
Whom She Dearly Loved
And by Whom She Was Idolized,
Is Reverently Dedicated
By the Stranger Who Has Written It,
Hoping Thereby to Honor and Commemorate
Genius, Courage, Industry, Enterprise, and Energy,
Exemplified in a Useful and Beneficent Life,
In the Service of
The Theatre
* * * * *
_If Heaven to souls that dwell in bliss can show_
_The fate of those they love and leave behind,_
_She, in that Heaven, may be glad to know_
_Her son was honored with his human kind._
“_Each petty hand_
_Can steer a ship becalm’d, but he that will_
_Govern and carry her to her ends must know_
_His tides, his currents, how to shift his sails,_
_What she will bear in foul, what in fair, weathers,_
_What her springs are, her leaks and how to stop ’em,_
_What strands, what shelves, what rocks, do threaten her,_
_The forces and the nature of all winds,_
_Gusts, storms, and tempests, when her keel ploughs hell_
_And deck knocks heaven_, THEN _to manage her_
_Becomes the name and office of a Pilot!_”
--BEN JONSON, IN “CATILINE.”
CONTENTS
THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO--VOLUME ONE
THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO PAGE
ANCESTRY AND BIRTH 1
BOYHOOD IN BRITISH COLUMBIA 2
EARLY PROCLIVITY FOR THE THEATRE 6
MEMORIES OF JULIA DEAN 7
REMOVAL TO SAN FRANCISCO 10
GLIMPSES OF BOYHOOD 12
SCHOOL DAYS IN SAN FRANCISCO 14
HARD TIMES IN EARLY DAYS 15
THE SENTIMENTAL STOWAWAY 17
A BOHEMIAN INTERLUDE 19
BELASCO’S EARLIEST ASSOCIATIONS WITH THE
THEATRE IN SAN FRANCISCO 22
AN EARLY FRIEND,--W. H. SEDLEY-SMITH 28
ADOPTION OF THE STAGE 34
BELASCO’S THEATRICAL NOVITIATE 35
A THEATRICAL VAGABOND 39
EMULATION OF WALTER MONTGOMERY 42
A ROMANTIC COURTSHIP.--MARRIAGE 44
THEATRICAL LIFE IN VIRGINIA CITY 50
DION BOUCICAULT AND KATHARINE RODGERS 52
CONFLICTIVE TESTIMONY 53
VARIEGATED EXPERIENCES 61
RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS.--1875 73
BALDWIN’S ACADEMY AND BARRY SULLIVAN 86
WITH BOOTH AT THE CALIFORNIA 93
BELASCO AND “THE EGYPTIAN MYSTERY” 97
A REMINISCENCE OF HELENA MODJESKA 100
STROLLING _ad interim_.--BELASCO AS “THE FIRST
OLD WOMAN” 103
A SUBSTANTIAL TRIBUTE 104
“OLIVIA” AND “PROOF POSITIVE” 106
BELASCO’S VERSION OF “NOT GUILTY” 108
WITHDRAWAL FROM THE BALDWIN.--“THE LONE
PINE” AND DENMAN THOMPSON 110
“WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE” 113
SALMI MORSE’S “PASSION PLAY” 114
NOT THE OBERAMMERGAU DRAMA 116
CONSTITUENTS OF MORSE’S PLAY 118
AS TO PROPRIETY 120
“THE PASSION PLAY” IN NEW YORK 121
BELASCO’S SERVICES TO MORSE’S ENTERPRISE 123
“THE MILLIONAIRE’S DAUGHTER” 125
DETRACTION OF BELASCO.--EARLY CALIFORNIA
INFLUENCES 129
BELASCO’S REPERTORY AS AN ACTOR 140
BELASCO’S “THE STORY OF MY LIFE” 148
THE EVIL OF INCOMPETENT CRITICISM 155
THE NATURE OF BELASCO’S TALENTS AND
SERVICES 159
CONCERNING MATTERS OF FACT 163
THE FACTS ABOUT JEFFERSON’S _Rip_ 172
A LEADING LADY IN A PET 176
ROSE COGHLAN AND “THE MOONLIGHT MARRIAGE” 179
“L’ASSOMMOIR” AND A DOUBLE-BARRELLED BENEFIT 183
A HOT WATER REHEARSAL 187
THE PLAY OF “CHUMS” 188
FROM SAN FRANCISCO TO CHICAGO 191
“HEARTS OF OAK” 193
FIRST VENTURE IN NEW YORK 196
JAMES ALFRED HERNE 197
ANALYSIS OF “HEARTS OF OAK” 201
FAILURE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 205
SAN FRANCISCO AGAIN 208
BELASCO’S RECOLLECTIONS OF ADELAIDE NEILSON 209
THE BLACK PEARL 211
MISS NEILSON’S GOOD INFLUENCE 213
“PAUL ARNIFF” 214
WANING FORTUNES AT THE BALDWIN 216
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE,--JOHN T. MALONE 218
“TRUE TO THE CORE” 220
A STERLING ACTOR AND AN INTERESTING ESTIMATE:--WILLIAM
E. SHERIDAN 221
LAURA DON.--AN UNFULFILLED AMBITION 225
“LA BELLE RUSSE” 230
“THE STRANGLERS OF PARIS” 237
NEW YORK AGAIN.--“LA BELLE RUSSE” AT WALLACK’S 241
AN OPINION BY BRONSON HOWARD.--WALLACK IN
THE THIRTIETH STREET HOUSE 244
BELASCO AND HIS “THE CURSE OF CAIN” 248
THE PASSING OF MAGUIRE 252
BELASCO AND GUSTAVE FROHMAN.--THEY REVIVE
“THE OCTOROON” 254
“AMERICAN BORN” 257
FIRST MEETING WITH CHARLES FROHMAN 259
EASTWARD, HO! 260
A RETROSPECT 263
A SECOND VENTURE IN CHICAGO.--THE LAST OF
“AMERICAN BORN” 269
THE MADISON SQUARE THEATRE 271
BELASCO AT THE MADISON SQUARE 275
“MAY BLOSSOM” 280
FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND.--“CALLED BACK” 290
CHANGES AT THE MADISON SQUARE 292
A LABORIOUS INTERLUDE.--LYCEUM THEATRE 294
“VALERIE” AT WALLACK’S 298
MORE ERRORS CORRECTED 306
AN EXTRAORDINARY COMPANY AND A SUMMER SEASON
IN SAN FRANCISCO 307
AFFAIRS OF THE LYCEUM 311
“THE HIGHEST BIDDER” 314
“PAWN TICKET 210” 317
“BARON RUDOLPH” AND GEORGE S. KNIGHT 321
“THE WIFE” 326
“A COMMON-SENSE HUSBAND” 327
REVISION OF “SHE” 337
“LORD CHUMLEY” AND E. H. SOTHERN 340
“THE KAFFIR DIAMOND” 345
LOUIS ALDRICH 347
THE SCHOOL OF ACTING 348
THE TRUE SCHOOL IS THE STAGE 351
A REVIVAL OF “ELECTRA” 353
MANY NEW TASKS 355
“THE CHARITY BALL” 357
MRS. LESLIE CARTER 361
EPISODE OF “THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER” 365
RETIREMENT FROM THE LYCEUM THEATRE 367
A LONG, LONG ROAD 370
CONFEDERATION WITH CHARLES FROHMAN 373
PROCTOR’S TWENTY-THIRD STREET THEATRE 374
THE PLAY OF “MEN AND WOMEN” 377
HATCHING “THE UGLY DUCKLING” 383
“THE UGLY DUCKLING.”--MRS. CARTER’S DEBUT 385
MORE FAILURE, AND A LAWSUIT 388
A POVERTY-STRICKEN STRUGGLE 392
“MISS HELYETT” AND MRS. CARTER 396
ORIGIN OF THE EMPIRE THEATRE 400
“THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME” 403
EXCELLENCE OF THAT INDIAN DRAMA 406
THE VALUE OF SUGGESTION IN ART 417
A SUGGESTIVE REMINISCENCE OF FRONTIER DAYS 420
BELASCO AND CHARLES FROHMAN 421
A CHARLES FROHMAN LETTER 422
A BAFFLED ENTERPRISE IN CHICAGO 424
“THE YOUNGER SON” 428
FIGHTING FOR A CHANCE 431
STORY AND PRODUCTION OF “THE HEART OF MARYLAND.”--ITS
GREAT SUCCESS 438
“THE FIRST BORN.”--A SUCCESS AND A FAILURE 447
BELASCO’S SECOND ENGLISH VENTURE.--“THE
HEART OF MARYLAND” IN LONDON 451
“ZAZA,” AND THE ETHICAL QUESTION 456
PRODUCTION, AND CONTENTS, OF “ZAZA” 461
MRS. CARTER’S IMPERSONATION OF ZAZA 464
DEATH OF BELASCO’S MOTHER.--“CAN THE DEAD
COME BACK?”--A STRANGE EXPERIENCE 466
BLANCHE BATES AND “NAUGHTY ANTHONY” 469
“MADAME BUTTERFLY” 476
“ZAZA” ABROAD 484
VIEWS OF THE FRENCH DRAMATISTS 485
“WITH SPEED FOR ENGLAND.”--ANOTHER SUCCESS
IN LONDON 486
PUCCINI AND BELASCO 488
“MADAME BUTTERFLY” AS AN OPERA.--A PROPOSAL
BY LADY VALERIE MEUX 489
INDEX 497
ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME ONE.
_In Photogravure._
David Belasco Frontispiece
TO FACE
PAGE
William Winter xxvi
John McCullough 18
Cecilia Loverich, Mrs. David Belasco 44
David Belasco as _Robert Macaire_ 80
Edwin Booth as _Hamlet_ 94
David Belasco as _Marc Antony_, in “Julius Cæsar” 136
David Belasco as _Fagin_, in “Oliver Twist” 146
Lawrence Barrett as _Caius Cassius_, in “Julius Cæsar” 166
Joseph Jefferson as _Rip Van Winkle_ 176
Adelaide Neilson 214
David Belasco as _King Louis the Eleventh_ 226
David Belasco as _Uncle Tom_, in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” 258
David Belasco as _Hamlet_ 294
_In Halftone._
The Infant Belasco and His Parents 2
Julia Dean (Hayne) 6
{ Charles John Kean, }
“The Keans” { Ellen Tree, Mrs. Kean } 10
Belasco’s Parents, Humphrey Abraham, and Reina
Martin, Belasco, About 1865 22
William Henry Sedley-Smith 28
Mrs. Frank Mark Bates }
Sallie Hinckley } 32
{ Ella Chapman }
The Chapman Sisters { Blanche Chapman } 36
Belasco, About 1873-’75 40
Joseph Murphy } 48
John Piper }
Mrs. D. P. Bowers 52
Dion Boucicault 56
Katharine Rodgers 60
John T. Raymond 66
Gertrude Granville }
Annie Pixley as _M’liss_ } 74
Playbill of “The Egyptian Mystery,” at Egyptian
Hall, San Francisco, 1877 98
Helena Modjeska 104
Belasco as _Armand Duval_, in “Camille” 130
Belasco, About 1880 140
Henry J. Montague 150
Augustin Daly, About 1870-’75 160
Rose Coghlan } 178
Nina Varian }
Lewis Morrison } 188
James O’Neill }
James A. Herne 200
Mary Jeffreys-Lewis } 230
Osmond Tearle }
Thomas Maguire 252
F. F. Mackaye } 262
Gustave Frohman }
Georgia Cayvan 286
Charles Frohman } 292
Daniel Frohman }
Steele Mackaye, About 1886 298
Annie Robe }
Kyrle Bellew } 304
Lester Wallack 306
Albert M. Palmer 310
Edward H. Sothern, About 1888 314
Lotta (Charlotte Crabtree), About the time of “Pawn
Ticket 210” 320
David Belasco and Clay M. Greene in 1887 330
A Scene from the “Electra” of Sophocles, as Produced
by Belasco, at the old Lyceum Theatre, New York 354
Elsie Leslie as the _Pauper-Prince_, in “The Prince and
the Pauper” 366
Henry C. De Mille 374
Mrs. Leslie Carter, About the time of “The Ugly
Duckling” 386
Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Miss Helyett_ 400
Belasco, About 1893 430
Mrs. Leslie Carter, About 1895 438
Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Maryland Calvert_, in “The
Heart of Maryland” 446
Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Zaza_ 464
Belasco, About 1899-1900 472
The Death Scene, Belasco’s “Madame Butterfly” 480
Giacomo Puccini 484
Geraldine Farrar as _Madama Butterfly_ 490
PREFACE
_My father’s plan of_ THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO _was communicated, in
detail, by him to me. He realized that whenever he might die he was
certain to leave much work undone. He hoped and expected, however, to
live long enough to complete this book. It was in his mind to the very
end. The last entry in his “Journal” refers to it: “June. Saturday, 2.
Cloudy and gloomy. Worked all day on the Memoir.” He spoke of it often
during his agonized final illness. The last words he ever wrote are a
part of it. I have, as well as I could, finished it for him, according
to his plan, because I know that he wished me to do so._
_This book was planned by Mr. Winter in 1913, as part of a comprehensive
record of the American Stage which he purposed to write. Other kindred
projects which he then had in view and on which he labored much include
revised and augmented editions of his_ LIFE AND ART OF EDWIN BOOTH _and_
LIFE AND ART OF JOSEPH JEFFERSON; _joint biographies of_ HENRY IRVING
_and_ ELLEN TERRY, _and an encyclopedical work to be called_ ALMS FOR
OBLIVION, _in which he intended to gather a vast mass of miscellaneous
material relative to the Theatre. He also had in contemplation a_ LIFE
OF AUGUSTIN DALY, _but he abandoned it because his friend the late
Joseph Francis Daly (Augustin’s brother) had undertaken and in large
part written a biography of that great theatrical manager and
extraordinary man. All those projects languished because of lack of
money: such books as those by William Winter issued since 1908 are, in
every way, so costly to make that little commercial profit can be
derived from them._
_David Belasco, however, is the most conspicuous figure in the
contemporary Theatre: his career has been long, picturesque,
adventurous, and brilliant: “the present eye praises the present
object,” and it was deemed certain that an authentic_ LIFE _of that
singular, romantic person would prove remunerative as well as
interesting, instructive, and valuable. In September, 1913,
accordingly,--soon after Mr. Winter’s_ THE WALLET OF TIME _had been
brought out,--I was, as his agent, easily able to make for him very
advantageous arrangements for the publication of such a work,--first to
be passed through a prominent magazine, as a serial, and then to be
issued in book form. Mr. Winter was much pleased and encouraged by this
arrangement, and he had begun to gather and shape material for_ THE
LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO _when announcement was made that Mr. Belasco was
writing and would presently publish, in_ HEARST’S MAGAZINE, _an_
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. _My father had met with a similar experience in 1893,
when Jefferson’s_ AUTOBIOGRAPHY, _published as a serial in_ THE CENTURY,
_forestalled his authoritative LIFE of that great actor, rendering it,
monetarily, almost profitless, and, therefore, he deemed it wise to lay
aside this book._
_Belasco’s_ THE STORY OF MY LIFE _was published_ _in_ HEARST’S MAGAZINE,
_March, 1914, to December, 1915,--but, though it preëmpted the magazine
field and made a work therein by my father impossible, it proved wholly
inadequate and unreliable as a biography. In September, 1916,
however,--soon after_ SHAKESPEARE ON THE STAGE--THIRD SERIES _had been
published,--Mr. Winter decided that the time was propitious for him to
take up again the present Memoir, and, his publishers agreeing with him,
he engaged to do so. He was then ill and weak; but he earnestly desired
to work till the last, to be always doing, to overcome every obstacle by
the force of his indomitable will, and, whatever he might suffer, never
to yield or break under the pressure of adverse circumstance or the
burden of age._
_About the end of October, 1916, accordingly, he began the actual
writing of this Memoir, and, although repeatedly urged by me to desist,
he continued in it almost to the last day of his life. “I might better
be dead,” he once exclaimed, “than to sit idle! I must go on: I must
work at something: if it were not at this, it would be at something
else. Moreover, I will not be beaten by anything: I will make this book
the best thing of the kind I have ever yet done.”_
_If he had lived he would have done so; but his spirit was greater than
his strength. When death came to him unconnected sections of this book,
amounting to about three-fifths of the matter contained in Volume One
and about one-third of that contained in Volume Two, were in type,
awaiting his revision. Much of the remainder was in manuscript--some
parts of it practically completed, some of it more or less roughly
drafted. My task has been, substantially, to supply some dates, to fill
some blanks, and to edit, coördinate, and join the material left by my
father. That task I have performed with reverence and care, and if the
errors and defects in this work--which I hope are few--be recognized as
mine, and the merits and beauties in it--which I know to be many--be
recognized as his, then the responsibility of authorship will be rightly
divided._
_Mr. Winter was of many moods,--and, when possible, he wrought at his
writing as he felt inclined. That is the reason why some passages in
this book which stand near to its close were finished and polished by
him, while others, much earlier, were left incomplete or isolated. The
subject of The Theatrical Syndicate, for example, was thoroughly
familiar to him, and he wrote the section devoted to that subject in
intervals of his restudy of “The Return of Peter Grimm,” a play about
which he had written, for this book, little but rough notes when the end
came (I have, herein, reprinted his criticism of that play previously
recorded in another place). The last passage in the text on which he
worked is that treating of “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” He brought the
revised manuscript of that passage to me on the afternoon of June 2 and
asked me to type it for him, saying: “I like the earnestness of it, and
if you will make a fair copy for me I will go over it once more in the
morning and dismiss it: I am too tired to go on to-day.” On June 3, 4,
and 5, although suffering acutely, he insisted on rising, each day, and
attempted to work, but was unable to do so. On the morning of June 5 he
was forced to take to his bed. That was the beginning of the end._
_My father died on June 30, 1917. The direct cause of his death was
uræmic poisoning, sequent on angina pectoris. His personal reticence was
extreme; he disliked strangers about him and depended on me; it was,
therefore, my very great privilege to wait on and nurse him in his
final sickness. His suffering was indescribable and was exceeded only
by his invariable patience and gentleness. The last thing he ever wrote
was the Dedication of this book. At about eleven o’clock on the night of
June 9 he endeavored to compose himself to sleep. I sat at the door of
his bedroom until about midnight, when, as it was obvious that he could
not sleep and that he was in terrible distress, I went to him. The next
two hours were specially hard: there is little that can be done in such
circumstances but to hope for the release of death. Anybody who has seen
and heard the piteous restlessness and the dreadful, strangulated
breathing characteristic of such a condition as my father’s then was is
not likely to forget them. At about two o’clock in the morning, his
breathing and his pulse both being so bad that I believed he was then to
die, he asked to be helped out of bed into a chair. I lifted him into
one, and, after a little while, he asked, with much difficulty, “Is
there paper--pencil, here?” Supposing that he wished to write some
request or message that he was not able to speak, I immediately gave him
a pad of paper and a pencil. He sat for a few minutes with them in his
lap, gathering his strength. Then he took them up and slowly, painfully,
wrote the Dedication of this book, all except the four lines of verse
with which it ends. He made a mark beneath the text and wrote there
“Four lines of verse--not finished yet.” A while later he seemed to
grow easier and presently asked to be got back to bed. The next day,
June 10, in the forenoon, he asked me to help him to dress, which I did:
it was the last time he ever had his clothes on. He read for a little
while in one of his favorite books, Boswell’s “Life of Johnson,”--the
passage relative to the execution of Dr. Dodd. He presently spoke to me,
in his old, gentle, whimsical way, of “the touching resignation shown in
Johnson’s letter to the fact that Dodd was going to be hanged.” Then,
after an interval of acute and dreadful distress, he spoke of his
illness. He said: “It is my principle_ to go on. _I felt that I was
going to die last night,--that’s why I wrote the Dedication to the
’Belasco.’ I feared I should die before I could complete that work and
the three other books I have undertaken. But my principle is to go on:
to hold on, till the end--and then_, still hold on! _I do not mean to
break. But I am very sick.” Soon afterward he became so weak that it was
necessary to get his clothes off and lift him back to bed. In the
afternoon he roused himself again,--rising above the tide of poison
which was slowly submerging him, as visibly as a drowning man rises in
water,--and asked for the Dedication, which I had typewritten. He sat up
in bed and revised it, as it now stands, and then added the four lines
of verse. Although he had been suffering horribly for days he made but
one mistake in writing the Dedication: he wrote “use_less_” instead of
“use_ful_“--and was much vexed with himself for doing so. In the last
line of the verse he first wrote “boy”; in the evening he changed that
word to “son.”_
_Among the manuscript notes left by my father I have found the beginning
of a_ PREFACE _to this book, which I think it desirable to print here
because it gives in his words some intimation of his purpose and feeling
in undertaking the writing of it_:
* * * * *
David Belasco is the leading theatrical manager in the United
States; the manager from whom it is reasonable to expect that the
most of achievement can proceed that will be advantageous to the
Stage, as an institution, and to the welfare of the Public to which
that institution is essential and precious. I have long believed
that a truthful, comprehensive, minute narrative of his
career,--which has been one of much vicissitude and
interest,--ought to be written now, while he is still living and
working, when perhaps it may augment his prosperity, cheer his
mind, and stimulate his ambition to undertake new tasks and gain
new honors. In that belief I have written this book, not as a
panegyric, but as a Memoir.
[Illustration: IN MEMORIAM
“_Earthly Fame_
_Is fortune’s frail dependent; yet there lives_
_A Judge, who, as man claims by merit, gives:_
_To whose all-pondering mind a noble aim,_
_Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed;_
_In whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed._”
--Wordsworth
photograph by I. Almstaedt, Staten Island. son of Jefferson Winter.]
[Illustration: William Winter]
_David Belasco and William Winter were friends for thirty-odd years.
They did not always agree as to the course which should be followed in
theatrical management; but their disagreements on that subject, such as
they were, never estranged them nor lessened their mutual sympathetic
understanding, respect, and regard. Belasco, undoubtedly, is what my
father called him, “the last of the real managers,” the heir of all the
theatric ages in America that have been led by Dunlap, Caldwell,
Gilfert, Wood, the Wallacks, Booth, McCullough, Ford, Palmer, and Daly,
and it is fitting that his_ LIFE _should have been written by the one
man in all the world best qualified to perform the task. Belasco’s
feeling about the matter, at once modest and appreciative, is shown in a
letter from which I quote the following_:
(David Belasco to William Winter.)
October 18, 1916.
MY DEAR WILLIAM WINTER:--
I am greatly honored to know that you are really going to write the
history of my life! I will not say “It is an honor that I dreamed
not of,” because I _have_ dreamed of it. But I never thought you
would really undertake it. Of course I will, as you ask, very
gladly do _anything_ and _everything_ I can to assist you.
But though my life has not been altogether an easy or uneventful
one, in all sincerity I can hardly think of it as worthy of your
brilliant pen. Yet you know how I have always looked up to you, and
so you will know how much this means to me and how much I
appreciate it. And because “I hold every man a debtor to his
profession” I am more than delighted that you think the public will
be interested in the life of a theatrical manager,--and that
manager me. If only I had been able to do all that I wanted to,
then there would have been a career worthy even of your pen.
It pleases me so much whenever there comes a real, worthwhile
tribute to the profession I adore--the Stage! It is great and
wonderful to think that my name is to be written in the records of
the American Theatre by you: that hereafter the name of Belasco
(just a stroller from California in the dear old days of the
pioneers) will be found written by you along with the names of
those who made our Theatre _possible_ as well as great. I mean the
men and women who gave my profession of their best--long, arduous,
weary years of hard, hard work, at the sacrifice of personal
comfort; who studied and toiled and played their parts
uncomplainingly night after night in the changing bills; the
friends who were never too tired to learn something; who lived
simply and poorly and yet had the courage to marry and bring up
their children and give the Stage a new generation; the friends who
found joy in the few hours they held sacred in the home--often a
barren room or two. Beautiful! Those are the boys and girls I
love--our pioneers. What pathetic figures--what noble examples many
of them were! Such men and women I reverence--I salute them! And I
thank you for the compliment you pay me, as a humble follower of
the Theatre, when you write my name with theirs.... We must meet
soon and have good, long talks about the golden days in
California,--_my_ California. _Facts_ I can give you: exact _dates_
I will not promise. I have never kept a “Diary.”... As far as I
possibly can I will make my convenience to suit yours....
Faithfully,
DAVID BELASCO.
_Many readers may suppose, because Belasco is still living and at the
zenith of his career, that it was an easy task to compile and arrange a
complete record of his life. The truth is far otherwise. There was once
a vast amount of invaluable material for such a record,--comprising a
copy of every programme in which his name appeared from 1871 to the end
of the theatrical season of 1897-’98, together with every important
article about him or his work in the same period, several scores of
photographs of him in dramatic characters and many hundreds of
interesting letters. But that unique collection, the property and pride
of his mother, was destroyed in the great San Francisco earthquake-fire,
April 18, 1906; and his dubiosity about exact dates proved to be more
than justified. The comprehensive and authoritative Chronology of
Belasco’s life which is included in this Memoir is, therefore, chiefly
the product of Mr. Winter’s indefatigable, patient original research and
labor: such parts of it as were not made by him were made entirely
according to his plan and by his direction, specifying the sources of
information to be consulted. And I would specially emphasize the fact
that wherever this Memoir may be found to differ from, or conflict
with, other accounts of Belasco’s career those other accounts are
erroneous._
_The letters which appear in this Memoir were all selected by my
father,--excepting a few of his, toward the end, which I have inserted.
Mr. Winter requested Belasco to chose from his collection such letters
as he would permit to be used, but received from him a reply in which he
writes_:
... I would be glad to go through my letters for you, as you
requested, if I could; but the fact is I am so over-worked just now
that I simply can’t take the time to do it. I am, therefore,
sending over to you eight or nine old letter-books of mine and two
boxes of old letters. I really don’t know _what_ is in them (for I
haven’t looked at them for years), but I hope you will be able to
find something useful and such as you want among them. If not, let
me know and I will send over some more. All the other material you
ask for in the list which Jefferson left at the theatre last week
was destroyed in the [San Francisco] fire.... I don’t believe there
are twelve pictures of me “in character” in existence. I had dozens
made when I was young, but I don’t know of anybody who has any
to-day, except my wife. She has a set of, I think, six, which I
will ask her to lend us....
_In assembling originals for pictorial illustration of this work I have
been specially aided by Mr. Belasco, who has not only loaned me
everything in his own collection for which I have asked but has also
obtained for my use many photographs in the Albert Davis Collection, as
well as the six very interesting and now, I believe, unique pictures of
him, preserved by Mrs. Belasco, in the characters of_ Hamlet, Marc
Antony, King Louis the Eleventh, Uncle Tom, Fagin, _and_ Robert Macaire.
_For photographs of members of the Theatrical Syndicate I am indebted to
my father’s friend and mine, Louis V. De Foe, Esq., of New York. My
father was not altogether satisfied with the illustrations of his other
books: every effort has been made to embellish this one as nearly as
possible in the manner in which he would have had it done._
_On behalf of my father and in accordance with a written note found
among his papers I would here make grateful acknowledgment of the
courtesy of Mr. Belasco’s sister, Mrs. Sarah Mayer; his brother, Mr.
Frederick Belasco, and his nephew, Mr. E. B. Mayer, all of San
Francisco, who endeavored to answer many inquiries by Mr. Winter and who
were able to provide some necessary corroboration of details. Also, I
would make acknowledgment of the obliging kindness shown him by the late
James Louis Gillis (1857-1917), Librarian of the California State
Library at Sacramento, and by his assistants, unknown, who searched for
Mr. Winter various old California newspaper files which, otherwise,
might have remained inaccessible._
_For myself, I owe thanks to Mr. Gillis’ successor as State Librarian of
California, Milton J. Ferguson, Esq.; to William Seymour, Esq., to James
A. Madison, Esq., and to the several members of Mr. Belasco’s personal
staff,--all of whom have assisted me in verifying for my father casts of
plays long ago forgotten and in supplying or verifying dates. I wish,
also, to thank Captain Joseph H. Coit, formerly Vice-President and
manager of Moffat, Yard & Company,--now, I believe, on service somewhere
in France,--without whose coöperation this work, perhaps, might not have
been undertaken._
_To Mr. Belasco I owe a debt of lasting gratitude--not only for his
unquestioning, instant compliance with every request I have ventured to
make of him, but far more for his simple, hearty sympathy in affliction
and his great personal kindness, which is not less valued because I know
that, primarily, it has been inspired by his reverence and affection for
my father._
_The Indices to this work I am chiefly responsible for. They have been
prepared on the model of others made under my father’s direction and in
large part by him: many of the biographical facts given in them were set
down for the purpose by him. I trust that they will be found accurate
and useful._
_The delay in publishing this work has been due in part to ill-health
which compelled me long to neglect it; in part to technical and
mechanical difficulties and mischances in its manufacture. I surmise
that notwithstanding the great care which has been exercised some minor
errors and slips will be found to have crept into this edition:[A] if
any are observed I shall be glad to have them brought to my attention in
order that they may be corrected in future issues._
JEFFERSON WINTER.
46 Winter Avenue, New Brighton,
Staten Island, New York.
June 30, 1918.
THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO.
ANCESTRY AND BIRTH.
David Belasco, one of the most singular, characteristic, picturesque,
and influential persons who have participated in the theatrical movement
in America, is descended from an old Portuguese Hebrew family (the name
of which was originally pronounced “Valasco”), members of which
emigrated from Portugal to England in the reign of the Portuguese King
Emanuel the First (1495-1521), at one time in which reign the Jews in
Portugal were cruelly persecuted, so that all of them who could do so
fled from that country. His father, Humphrey Abraham Belasco, was a
native of England, born in London, December 26, 1830. His mother, whose
maiden name was Reina Martin, was also of English nativity, born in
London, April 24, 1830. Both were Jews. They were poor and their social
position was humble. The father’s occupation was that of a harlequin. He
was proficient in his calling and he pursued it successfully at various
London theatres, but he did not find it remunerative. He wished to
improve his condition, and affected, as many others were, by the “gold
fever,”--which broke out and soon became epidemic after the discoveries
of gold in California (1842-1848), and was almost everywhere acute
during 1849 and the early fifties,--he determined to seek his fortune in
that apparent Eldorado. This determination was approved by his wife,
who, like himself, was a person of strong character and adventurous
spirit, and, accordingly, in 1852-’53, they voyaged, in a sailing
vessel, to Aspinwall (now Colon), crossed the isthmus to Panama, and
went thence, by another sailing vessel, to San Francisco, California,
arriving there almost destitute. Their first lodging was in a house,
long ago destroyed, in Howard Street, where, in a room in a cellar, July
25, 1853, occurred the birth of their first child, David Belasco, the
subject of this Memoir.
BOYHOOD IN BRITISH COLUMBIA.
The residence of those adventurers in San Francisco continued for
several years, Humphrey Belasco keeping a general shop and moderately
prospering as a tradesman, but about the beginning of 1858 they migrated
(travelling by sailing vessel) to the coast town of Victoria, then a
trading post of the Hudson’s Bay Company,--later (1862)
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Belasco’s Collection.
THE INFANT BELASCO AND HIS PARENTS, 1854
INSCRIPTION:
“Father and Mother and _Me_--during my _first starring_
engagement.--D. B.”]
incorporated a city. There Humphrey Belasco continued in business, as a
dealer in tobacco, fur, and other commodities, trading with miners and
Indian hunters and trappers, and also he dabbled in real estate
speculation and took part in mining operations, joining a party that
explored the Cariboo Mines region. He was not fortunate in his real
estate and mining ventures, nor did he specially prosper in
trade,--though, as Macaulay says of Richardson, the novelist, “he kept
his shop and his shop kept him.[B]” Humphrey Belasco is mentioned, in a
record of that place, as keeping a tobacco shop there, in Yates Street,
in 1862. He remained in Victoria for about seven years, and there three
of his children were born: Israel, July 25, 1861; Frederick, June 25,
1862, and Walter, January 1, 1864. The elder Belasco was a social
favorite, and so considerable was his popularity that he was more than
once asked to accept public office,--a distinction which he declined. He
is remembered as a modest, lovable person, genial in feeling and manner,
a pleasant companion and a clever entertainer in the privacy of his
home, and as having been specially fond of quietude.
In Victoria much of David’s childhood was passed. From his mother, who
was intellectual, imaginative, romantic, and of a peculiarly amiable
disposition, he received the rudiments of education: she taught him
neatness, self-respect, industry, and the importance of acquiring
knowledge. I have heard him speak of her, with deep emotion, as the
friend from whom he had derived those lessons of courage, energy,
perseverance, and arduous labor that have guided him through life. He
was early sent to a school called the Colonial, in Victoria, conducted
by an Irishman named Burr, remembered as a person whose temper was
violent and whose discipline was harsh. Later, he attended a school
called the Collegiate, conducted by T. C. Woods, a clergyman. When about
seven years old he attracted the attention of a kindly Roman Catholic
priest, Father ---- McGuire, then aged eighty-six, who perceived in him
uncommon intelligence and precocious talent, and who presently proposed
to his parents that the boy should dwell under his care in a monastery
and be educated. Strenuous objection to that arrangement was at first
made by David’s father, sturdily Jewish and strictly orthodox in his
religious views; but the mother, more liberal in opinion and more
sagaciously provident of the future, assented, and her persuasions,
coincident with the wish of the lad himself, eventually prevailed
against the paternal scruples. In the monastery David remained about two
and a half years, supervised by Father McGuire, and he made good
progress in various studies. The effect of the training to which he was
there subjected was exceedingly beneficial: ecclesiastics of the Roman
Catholic Church have long been eminent for scholarship and for
efficiency in the education of youth: their influence endured, and it is
visible in David Belasco’s habits of thought, use of mental powers,
tireless labor, persistent purpose to excel, and likewise in his
unconscious demeanor, and even in his attire. It would have been better
for the boy if he had remained longer in the monastic cell and under the
guidance of his benevolent protector, but he had inherited a gypsy
temperament and a roving propensity, he became discontented with
seclusion, and suddenly, without special cause and without explanation,
he fled from the monastery and joined a wandering circus, with which he
travelled. In that association he was taught to ride horses “bareback”
and to perform as a miniature clown. A serious illness presently befell
him and, being disabled, he was left in a country town, where he would
have died but for the benevolent care of a clown, Walter Kingsley by
name, who remained with him,--obtaining a scanty subsistence by
clowning and singing in the streets, for whatever charity might
bestow,--and nursed him through a malignant fever, only himself to be
stricken with it, and to die, just as the boy became convalescent.
Meantime Humphrey Belasco, having contrived to trace his fugitive son,
came to his rescue and carried him back to Victoria, to a loving
mother’s care and to his life at school.
EARLY PROCLIVITY FOR THE THEATRE.
It was about this time, 1862-’63, that David’s strong inclination for
theatrical pursuits became specially manifest. His mother was fond of
poetry, and she, and also his school teachers, had taught him to
memorize and recite verses. His parents, the father having been a
professional harlequin (one of David’s uncles, his namesake, it should
be mentioned, was the admired English actor David James [1839-1893], and
the whole family was histrionical), naturally sought the Theatre and
affiliated as much as they could with whatever players came to Victoria
or were resident there as members of the local stock company. David had
been “carried on,” at the Victoria Theatre Royal, as _Cora’s Child_, in
“Pizarro,”--that once famous play,
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. The Albert Davis Collection.
JULIA DEAN (HAYNE)]
adapted from Augustus Frederick Ferdinand von Kotzebue’s “Die Spanier in
Peru,” and rewritten by Sheridan. That incident probably occurred when
the talented and beautiful Julia Dean (1830-1868), in the season of
1857-’58, first acted in Victoria,--“Pizarro” having been in her
repertory and _Cora_ one of the parts in which she was distinguished. In
June, 1856, Julia Dean was lessee of the American Theatre, San
Francisco; she made several tours in Pacific Coast towns. Belasco
remembers having played the boy, _William_, in “East Lynne,” with her,
but that appearance must have occurred later, because “East Lynne,” as a
novel, was not published till 1861, and it was not launched earlier as a
play. Julia Dean returned to the East in 1858, but made at least one
subsequent tour of the Western States.
MEMORIES OF JULIA DEAN.
Belasco’s random recollections of the actors with whom he was brought in
contact while in California and other parts of the West are those of a
youthful enthusiast, generally injudicious, frequently incorrect,
sometimes informative, always indicative of amiability. Julia Dean, who
held little David in her arms when he was a child, and with whom he
appeared in boyhood, remains to this day an object of his homage. She
was one of the best actresses of her time. I saw her first at the Boston
Museum, in 1854, as _Julia_, in “The Hunchback,” later in other
characters, and was charmed by her exquisite beauty and her winning
personality. I saw her for the last time, in New York, in July, 1867, at
the Broadway Theatre (the house which had been Wallack’s Lyceum), where
she was playing,--with peculiar skill and fine effect,--_Laura Fairlie_
and _Anne Catherick_, in “The Woman in White.” She was a scion of a
theatrical family. Her maternal grandfather, Samuel Drake (1772-1847),
an English actor, was highly esteemed on our Stage a hundred years ago.
Her mother, Julia Drake (first Mrs. Thomas Fosdick, later Mrs. Edmund
Dean), was a favorite in the theatres of the West and was accounted
exceptionally brilliant. Julia Dean went on the stage (1845) at
Louisville, Kentucky, made her first appearance in New York in 1846, at
the old Bowery Theatre, and continued in practice of her art till the
end of her life. She was lovely in person and not less lovely in
character. Her figure was tall and slender, her complexion fair, her
hair chestnut-brown, her voice sweet, her movement graceful, and she had
sparkling hazel eyes. The existing portraits of her give no adequate
reflection of her beauty. In acting, her intelligence was faultless,
her demeanor natural, her feeling intense. Her every action seemed
spontaneous. Her imagination was quick, she possessed power and
authority, and she could thrill her audience with fine bursts of
passion,--as notably she did in the Fifth Act of “The Hunchback”; but,
as I recall her, she enticed chiefly by her intrinsic loveliness. Her
performance of Knowles’s _Julia_ was perfection. She played many
exacting parts,--such as _Bianca_, in “Fazio”; _Mrs. Haller_, in “The
Stranger”; _Margaret Elmore_, in “Love’s Sacrifice”; _Griseldis_, and
_Adrienne Lecouvreur_. She was the primary _Norma_, in Epes Sargent’s
“Priestess,” which was first acted in Boston, and she was the primary
_Leonor_, in George Henry Boker’s tragedy of “Leonor de Guzman,” first
produced at the original Broadway Theatre, New York, April 25, 1854.
Whatever she did was earnestly done. Her soul was in her art, and she
never permitted anything to degrade it. A marriage contracted (1855)
with Dr. Arthur Hayne,--son of Robert Young Hayne, United States Senator
from South Carolina, whose semi-seditious advocacy of “State Rights”
prompted Daniel Webster’s great oration in the Senate (1830),--resulted
unhappily, somewhat embittering her mind and impairing the bloom of her
artistic style. She obtained a divorce and (1866) became the wife of
James Cooper. She died suddenly, in childbirth, March 6, 1868. At her
funeral, two days later, at Christ Church, Fifth Avenue and Thirty-first
Street, New York, the service was performed by Rev. Ferdinand Cartwright
Ewer (1826-1883), a noted Episcopalian ritualist, who in early life had
been a dramatic critic,--one of competent intelligence, good judgment,
and considerate candor,--associated with the newspaper press of San
Francisco, had known her in the season of her California triumphs, and
well knew her worth both as actress and woman.
REMOVAL TO SAN FRANCISCO.
Young David Belasco was frequently utilized for infantile and juvenile
parts at the Victoria Theatre. In 1864, when Charles Kean, in his
farewell “tour round the world,” filled a short engagement there, the
lad appeared as the little _Duke of York_, in “King Richard III.” His
age was then eleven, but he was diminutive and therefore he suited that
part. During Kean’s engagement he also appeared as a super in “Pauline.”
About 1865 Humphrey Belasco, his fortunes not improving as he had hoped,
removed his family from Victoria and established residence in San
Francisco, where he opened a fruit
[Illustration:
From photographs by Brady. The Albert Davis Collection.
“THE KEANS”
CHARLES JOHN KEAN ELLEN TREE, MRS. KEAN
(1811-1868) (1805-1880)
Taken during their last American tour, 1864-’65, soon after Belasco
appeared with them in “King Richard III”]
shop, fraternized with players at the theatres, gaining friends and
popularity, and where he spent the rest of his life. David was sent to
the Lincoln Grammar School, which for some time he continued to attend.
There he was studious, and there, in particular, he was trained in
elocution,--that art having been specially esteemed by his teachers.
Among the persons who, at various times, instructed him in elocution
were Dr. Ira G. Hoitt, Miss---- James, Professor Ebenezer Knowlton, and
Miss “Nelly” Holbrook, once an actress of distinction (she figures among
the oldtime female players of _Hamlet_ and _Romeo_), mother of the
contemporary actor (1917) Holbrook Blinn. The boy’s talent for
declamation had been quickly perceived, and a judicious endeavor was
made to foster and develop it. Among the poems he was taught to recite,
and which, in the esteem of his teachers, he recited well, were “The
Vagabonds,” by John Townsend Trowbridge; “The Maniac,” by Matthew
Gregory Lewis; “Curfew Must Not Ring To-night,” by Rosa Hartwick Thorpe,
and “Bernardo del Carpio,” by Felicia Hemans. Those poems were well
chosen for the purpose in view, because each of them contains a dramatic
element propitious to a declaimer.
GLIMPSES OF BOYHOOD.
At one time, in his boyhood, at Victoria, Belasco was adopted by the
local Fire Department as “a mascot,” and when parades of the firemen
occurred,--the hook and ladder vehicle being drawn with ropes by the
men,--the little lad either walked at the head of the line or rode,
perched high upon the wagon, arrayed in a red shirt, black trousers and
boots, and a fire-helmet. After removing, with his parents, from
Victoria to San Francisco, he was sent to a school called the Fourth
Street, and it was from there that he went to the Lincoln. He took the
honors for penmanship, being assigned to keep the school “rolls,” and
sometimes his “compositions” were framed and hung in the halls, for the
edification of other pupils. There, also, he was awarded a gold medal,
as being the best reader and performer of Tragedy,--a prize which he
pawned for the benefit of the family,--while his chum, James O. Barrows,
obtained a silver medal for special cleverness in Comedy. As a schoolboy
he was particularly fond of reading “dime novels,” which, for
convenience of surreptitious perusal, he customarily concealed in his
boots. For some time after their return to San Francisco the Belascos
dwelt in a house in Harrison Street; later, they resided in Louisa
Street.
The first play, apparently, that David wrote was concocted later, after
the family had removed to No. 174 Clara Street, and was entitled “Jim
Black; or, The Regulator’s Revenge!” Another of his early pieces of
dramatic writing (and, perhaps, it may have been the first) was called
“The Roll of the Drum.” Belasco is very positive that he wrote this soon
after the death of Abraham Lincoln (April 15, 1865),--at which time he
was less than twelve years old. His recollection regarding this may be
correct; there is no doubt that he was an extraordinarily precocious
child, and such children do, sometimes, write astonishing compositions
even at an earlier age than twelve. Belasco is equally positive that his
play, while it was, at various times, acted outside of San Francisco,
was never played in that city. A play of the same name was performed, by
Mme. Methua-Scheller and associates, at Maguire’s Opera House, for the
benefit of “Sue” Robinson, on November 26, 1869, announced as “The new
military drama”; this was not Belasco’s play, but one wholly different
from it. Belasco’s custom, as a lad, was to keep a table by his bedside,
with writing materials, candle and matches upon it, in order to note at
once any idea that might occur to him as likely to be of service in his
theatrical work, and he was often rewarded for this precaution. In all
my study of theatrical history I have not encountered a person more
downright daft, more completely saturated in every fibre of his being,
with passion for the Stage and things dramatical than was young David
Belasco.
SCHOOL DAYS IN SAN FRANCISCO.
The following extract from a letter dated December 25, 1916, addressed
to Belasco by one of his schoolmates, E. F. Lennon, Esqr., now (1917)
City Clerk of Red Bluff, Tehama County, California, provides a glimpse
of him as a schoolboy in San Francisco:
“ ... We drifted away from each other in old ’Frisco, in the early
seventies, and chance has kept us distant from each other.... You
and I lived near each other, in the old days,--you in Louisa
Street, I, a block away, in Shipley. We went to the old Lincoln
School and travelled through the same grades ... and in them all we
were together. Do you remember when you and I started a Circulating
Library, in your home? You had quite a collection of books and I
had a number also, and we put them on shelves in your house. Not
long after a fire came along and destroyed our good intentions....
We also had our theatrical performances, in the basement of my
home, when the price of admission was a gunny-sack or a beer
bottle. You were the star actor and our presentations were often
attended by the grown-ups.... I remember when Queen Emma, of the
Hawaiian Islands, visited our school, and the entire body of
students were marched upstairs to the big hall to see and entertain
her. You recited your famous selection, “The Madman” [Lewis’s “The
Maniac”]. Another pupil and myself did a little better than the
bunch: I think the other boy’s name was Moore. He and I kissed the
Queen, and it was the talk of the school for some time. She took
the kisses all right, and we got a lecture for our audacity, and
perhaps a licking....”
HARD TIMES IN EARLY DAYS.
The removal of the Belasco family from Victoria to San Francisco was not
attended by material prosperity, and for several years the family
suffered the pinch of poverty. Young David keenly felt the necessity of
helping his parents, and by every means in his power he tried to do so.
His conduct, in those troublous years, as it has been made known to me,
not only in conversations with himself, but in communications by his
surviving relatives, provides a remarkable example of filial devotion.
As a lad, in Victoria, he had shown surprising facility in learning the
Indian language and frequently had acted as interpreter for Indians who
traded with his father; also, he had manifested that lively and shrewd
propensity for trading which is peculiar to the Jew. As a lad, in San
Francisco, while attending school as often as possible, he regularly
remained at home, after the morning session, every Friday, in order to
assist his mother in washing clothes for the family, a labor which,
being then of low stature, he could perform only by standing on a large
box, thus being enabled to reach into the washtub. He would also help
his mother in the drudgery of the kitchen, and then often do for her the
necessary household marketing for the coming week; and he would make up,
every week, the records and accounts of his father’s business in the
shop. When neither at school nor occupied at home he would seek and
perform any odd piece of work by which a trifle might be earned. He was
by nature a book-lover and acquisitive of information: he had access to
several public libraries, but he craved ownership of books, and from
time to time he earned a little money for the purchase of them by
recitations, sometimes given in the homes of his friends, sometimes at
church entertainments, sometimes at Irish-American Hall and other
similar places. For each of such recitations he received two dollars,
and on some nights he recited two, three, or four times. As he grew
older, especially after 1868, his efforts to obtain employment at
theatres grew more and more constant, and, as already said, they were
occasionally successful. His activities, indeed, were such that it is a
wonder his health was not permanently impaired,--but he was possessed
of exceptional vitality, which happily has endured. Once he worked for a
while as a chore-boy in a cigar store and factory, where he washed
windows, scrubbed floors, and rendered whatever menial service was
required, opening the place at morning and closing it at evening. That
was a hard experience, but it led to something better, because the
keeper of the cigar-shop, taking note of him and his ways, procured for
him a better situation, which for some time he held, in a bookstore.
There he had access to many books, and he eagerly improved every
opportunity of reading. A chief recreation of his consisted in haunting
the wharves, gazing at the ships, and musing and wondering about the
strange tropical lands from which they came and to which presently they
would sail away.
THE SENTIMENTAL STOWAWAY.
There was one singular consequence of Belasco’s interest in ships and
his somewhat extravagant and sentimental fancy which is worth special
record. The tragedian John McCullough used frequently to recite, with
pathetic effect, a ballad, once widely known, by Arthur Matthison
(1826-1883), called “The Little Hero,”--originally named “The
Stowaway,” and first published in “Watson’s Art Journal,” New York. The
earliest record I have been able to find of McCullough’s delivery of
this ballad in San Francisco states that he recited it on the occasion
of a performance given for the benefit of Lorraine Rogers, director of
the California Theatre, on November 30, 1869. Then or, perhaps, earlier
(since McCullough was in San Francisco as early as 1866) Belasco heard
him, and his febrile fancy, already superheated by excessive reading of
morbid sensation stories, was so fired by the recitation that he felt
impelled to submit himself to a similar experience. In his “Story” he
gives the following account of his adventure as a Stowaway:
“The story of ’The Little Hero’ related the adventures of a
stowaway who was discovered in his hiding-place by the sailors when
they were in mid-ocean, and the lad was forced to work, and was
beaten and starved into the bargain. As a boy I had read a like
tale, which had so stirred my imagination that I used to dream of
it by night, and in my spare time by day I would wander along the
wharves to gaze at the shipping. How it happened I don’t quite
know, but my feet led me on board a boat and, simply as an
experiment, I hid myself. Then a rash notion came into my head!
Suppose I stayed where I was and put into practice what the poem
had so graphically described! For thirty hours I crouched behind my
sable bulwark, and after interminable sailing it seemed to me about
time that I was discovered, so I made myself visible. I was dragged
up on
[Illustration: JOHN MC CULLOUGH
“_This was the noblest Roman of them all!_”
--Julius Caesar
Photograph by Sarony.
Author’s Collection.]
deck with no tender touch, and there the analogy between the little
hero and myself vanished. The captain of the schooner was a friend
of my father’s. ’Aren’t you Humphrey’s boy?’ he asked, and I was
obliged to confess to my identity. ’Take him downstairs and wash
him,’ the captain ordered, for contact with the coal had made me
look like a blackamoor; despite my protestations that this was not
the correct treatment for a stowaway, I was taken below. ’Give him
something to eat,’ he called after us, but I was as obdurate as a
militant suffragette in the matter of food. Later on, when I was
’swabbed down,’ I was taken on deck again, where I was obliged to
tell the captain my story, and the reasons for my escapade. ’I’ll
be blazed if I lick you as you seem to want!’ said he. I was
reciting the story to the queer group gathered about me, when I
suddenly realized that my old enemy seasickness was creeping over
me. ’Let me scrub the floor,’ I pleaded. ’They always do.’ At first
they laughingly refused, but presently, to humor me, I was put to
work on a brass rail that needed shining. However, the smell of the
oil polish hastened my catastrophe. I was put to bed and very glad
to be there. From Vancouver I was shipped home, where I found my
mother rejoiced to get me back. She was not so perturbed as she
might have been, because the poor lady was used to my
’disappearances’ in search of adventure and the romantic. She
always knew that I was doing something or other to gain new
impressions, and her heart was wonderfully attuned to mine.”
A BOHEMIAN INTERLUDE.
Belasco left school in June, 1871. In August, 1878, he married. It has
been impossible to fix precise dates for some of his proceedings within
that period of about two years and three months. Though he steadily, if
at first slowly, progressed, and though specific records of his doings
become more and more frequent as the years pass in review, it is not
until about 1876-’79 that they are numerous. During all, or almost all,
of the period indicated (1871-1879),--more so in the earlier part than
in the later,--he was a nomadic bohemian. At first he often roamed the
streets at night and would visit the saloons and low “dives” which
abounded in San Francisco, and recite before the rough frequenters of
those resorts,--sometimes giving “The Maniac,” sometimes “Bernardo del
Carpio,” sometimes “shockers” of his own composition (things which he
wrote with facility, on any current topic that attracted his attention),
and gather whatever money might be thrown to him by those unruly but
often liberal auditors. On a Sunday he was sometimes fortunate enough to
earn as much as ten or twelve dollars by his recitals. Another means of
gain that he employed was the expedient of volunteer press reporting. He
would visit every gambling “den,” opium “joint,” hospital, and
police-station to which he could obtain access (the morgue was one of
his familiar resorts), and write brief stories of whatever scenes and
occurrences he might observe, to be sold to any newspaper that would
pay for them,--when he was lucky enough to make a sale. In talking to me
about his youthful days, as he has done in the course of a friendly
acquaintance extending over many years, he has particularly dwelt on the
intense, often morbid, and quite irresistible interest which, in early
life, he felt in everything extraordinary, emotional, sensational,
dramatic,--everything that might be called phenomenal. “As a young
fellow,” he once said to me, “I visited the scene of every murder that I
heard of--and they were many. I knew every infamous and dangerous place
in San Francisco. Once I tried to interfere between a blackguard and his
woman, whom he was abusing, and I got a bullet along the forehead for my
trouble: I have the scar of it to this day. It was freely predicted that
I would end in state’s prison, probably on the gallows. Only my dear
mother seemed to understand me. My adventures and wanderings (’Wandering
Feet,’ she used to call me) worried her, which I grieve to think of now,
but she always took my part. ’Davy is all right,’ she used to say;
’leave him alone; he’s only curious about life, and wants to see
everything with those big, dark eyes of his.’ She was right; and, if I
didn’t see everything, I saw a good deal.”
The miscellaneous knowledge that young Belasco accumulated in
observation of “the seamy side” of life by night, in one of the most
vicious, turbulent, and perilous cities in the world,--which San
Francisco certainly was, in his juvenile time,--was of much use to him
when, later, he became employed as a hack-writer of sensation
melodramas, in the theatres of that city and other cities of the West.
BELASCO’S EARLIEST ASSOCIATIONS WITH THE THEATRE IN SAN FRANCISCO
It is not possible to furnish an entirely full, clear, chronological
account of Belasco’s earliest relations with the Theatre in San
Francisco. Various current sketches of his career which I have examined
either give no details as to this part of it, or make assertions about
it which I have ascertained to be incorrect. The subject is not
explicitly treated in his autobiographical fragment, “The Story of My
Life,” a formless, rambling narrative, obviously, to a discerning
reader, evolved from discursive memory, without consultation of records
or necessary specification of dates or verification of statements, and
which I have found to be, in many essential particulars, inaccurate. Few
persons possess an absolutely trustworthy memory of dates,
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Belasco’s Collection.
BELASCO’S PARENTS
HUMPHREY ABRAHAM, AND REINA MARTIN, BELASCO, ABOUT 1865]
and Belasco is not one of them. His recollections of his boyhood and
specially of his early association with the Theatre in San Francisco are
sometimes interesting and in a general way authentic, and certainly they
are believed by him to be invariably correct; but careful research of
San Francisco newspapers of the period implicated, and of other records,
discovers that frequently they are hazy, confused, and erroneous. “He
who has not made the experiment,” says Dr. Johnson, “or is not
accustomed to require _rigorous accuracy_ from himself, will scarcely
believe how much a few hours take from certainty of knowledge and
distinctness of imagery.” How much more must the lapse of many years
take from memory! According to Belasco’s recollection, his first formal
appearance on the San Francisco Stage was made while he was yet a pupil
at the Lincoln Grammar School in that city, when Mary Wells (Mrs.
Richard Stœples, 1829-1878) was (as he alleges) filling an engagement at
the Metropolitan Theatre, in a play called “The Lioness of Nubia.” Mary
Wells was an English actress, well known and much respected on the New
York Stage about fifty years ago. She made her first appearance in this
country at Albany, in 1850, and in 1856 she appeared at Laura Keene’s
Theatre, New York, as _Mme. Deschapelles_, in “The Lady of Lyons.” She
did not figure as a star: her “line” was old women: there is no record
of her appearance at the Metropolitan Theatre, nor of her appearance
anywhere in San Francisco, until April 4, 1874, when she acted with “The
Lingard Combination,” at the Opera House (opened as Shiels’ Opera
House), playing _Mme. Dumesnil_, in an English translation of Octave
Feuillet’s “La Tentation.” There is, moreover, no play entitled “The
Lioness of Nubia.” There is, however, a play called “The Lion of Nubia,”
and there was an actress, of the soubrette order, named Minnie Wells,
who appeared in that play at the Metropolitan Theatre, December 16,
1872, acting the central part, _Harry Trueheart_. The play was billed as
“The Great Eastern Sensational Military Drama, ’The Lion of Nubia,’
introducing Banjo Solos, Banjo Duets,” etc. This play was thus
advertised in San Francisco newspapers, December 16 to 22, 1872. John R.
Woodard and Frank Rea, both of whom Belasco specifies as having been in
the performance he supposes to have been given by “Mary Wells,” were
members of the company supporting Minnie Wells at the Metropolitan in
December, 1872, and it was with the latter and in “The Lion of Nubia”
that Belasco made the appearance which he has misremembered and
inadvertently misstated in his published “Story.” The part that he
played, _Lieutenant Victor_, was practically that of a super. He was
billed on that occasion as “Walter Kingsley,” the name of the circus
clown who had befriended him in his childhood. It was a common expedient
of the time for actors to adopt names not theirs when embarking on a
theatrical career, and it pleased Belasco, for no special reason beyond
a boyish whim, to do likewise. He used the name of Walter Kingsley for a
little while, but his doing so distressed his mother and therefore he
presently dropped it and wisely reverted to his own. In the early
records that I have found it generally appears as “D. Belasco,” and
often various superfluous initials are inserted through compositors’
errors. Belasco’s account of the appearance with Miss Wells, as given to
me, specifies that he had one line to speak, which was “Perhaps the
stress of the weather has driven them further up the coast”; that his
schoolmates, in large number, were in the gallery; that his appearance
was hailed by them with applause; that they clamorously demanded he
should recite “The Maniac”; that their boisterous behavior interrupted
the performance and annoyed the actress, and that she caused Woodard to
discharge him.
It _certainly_ is true that Belasco was carried on the stage, in
childhood, at Victoria, that later he there “went on” for the little
_Duke of York_, in “King Richard III.,” with Charles Kean,--as
previously mentioned,--and that he made informal appearances, as
declaimer and as super, in the theatres of San Francisco, while yet a
schoolboy,--all those juvenile essays being cumulative toward his final
embarkation on the career of actor, dramatist, and theatrical manager:
thus, on December 20, 1868, he participated in a public entertainment,
given at Lincoln Hall, by pupils of the Lincoln Grammar School, reciting
“The Banishment of Catiline” and “The Maniac” (the latter a recitation
he was often called on to make and with which, at one time or another,
he won several prizes); in the “Catiline” recital he appeared in a
costume comprising his father’s underdrawers and undershirt and a toga
of cheap cloth. On November 24, 1869, he appeared, for a night or two,
with Mme. Marie Methua-Scheller (18---1878), at Maguire’s Opera House,
as one of the newsboys, in Augustin Daly’s “Under the Gas-Light,” and in
the course of that performance he played on a banjo and danced: on
November 27 he “went on,” at the same theatre, as an _Indian Brave_, in
a presentment by Joseph Proctor (1816-1897) of “The Jibbenainosay.” “I
was much too small,” he told me, “but Proctor kept me because I gave
such fine warwhoops.” On March 17, 1871, at the Metropolitan Theatre,
he assumed the character of an _Indian Chieftain_, in “Professor Hager’s
Great Historical Allegory and Tableaux, ’The Great Republic,’” which
prodigy was performed by a company of “more than 400 young ladies and
gentlemen” of various schools in the city, and for the benefit of those
schools: it was several times exhibited: in the Second Part thereof he
personated _War_. On June 2, following, he figured prominently in
“competitive declamations” given at Platt’s Hall, by pupils of the
Lincoln School, and also in an amateur theatrical performance, on the
same occasion, appearing as _High-flyer Nightshade_, in “The Freedom of
the Press.” Hager’s “The Great Republic” was a pleasing entertainment of
its kind, and, after the close of the Lincoln School, Hager arranged to
give it in Sacramento, and obtained permission to take with him to that
city young Belasco and his friend, James O. Barrows, who were considered
the bright particular stars of the performance. They appeared there, in
the “Allegory,” April 15, 1871, “for the benefit of the Howard
Association.” “I consider Professor Hager to have been my first
manager,” says Belasco,--why, I do not know.
On August 23, 1869, Lotta (Charlotte Crabtree, whom John Brougham
described as “the dramatic cocktail”) acted, for the first time in San
Francisco, _Fire-Fly_, in a play of the same name by Edmund Falconer,
based on Ouida’s novel of “Under Two Flags.” She was, then and later,
exceedingly popular in it. Belasco and other stage-smitten youths
organized an amateur theatrical association, called, in honor of the
elfin Lotta, “The Fire-Fly Social and Dramatic Club.” As a member of
that association Belasco played several parts. On June 22, 1871, he
appeared with other fire-flies, at Turnverein Hall (Bush Street, near
Powell), in---- Sutter’s drama of “A Life’s Revenge; or, Two Loves for
One Heart,”--acting _Fournechet, Minister of Finance_. “The San
Francisco Figaro,” noting this entertainment (the fifth given by the
“Fire-Flies”), remarked, “Among those who will take part in its
representation is David Belasco, his first appearance in leading
business”; and in a review of the performance a critical writer in the
same paper recorded that “David Belasco displayed much power.”
AN EARLY FRIEND.--W. H. SEDLEY-SMITH.
Soon after the opening of the California Theatre (1869) Belasco, who
attended every theatrical performance to which he could gain admission,
had the good fortune to meet John McCullough, and, pleasing
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Author’s Collection.
WILLIAM HENRY SEDLEY-SMITH]
that genial actor, he was from time to time employed to hear him say the
words of parts which he was committing to memory. In this way, by
McCullough’s favor, he was enabled to see many performances at the
California, sometimes from a gallery seat, sometimes from the stage, and
in this way, also, he chanced to make another auspicious acquaintance,
that of the sterling old actor William Henry Sedley-Smith, who took a
strong fancy to Belasco, perceiving his native ability, talked with him,
became genuinely interested in the romantic, enthusiastic lad, and gave
him valuable advice, encouragement, and assistance.
To the present generation of playgoers that veteran actor has ceased to
be even a name (the present generation of playgoers being, according to
my observation of it, specially remarkable for its vast and
comprehensive ignorance of theatrical history), but in other years his
name was one to conjure with, and to the few persons extant who cherish
memories of our Stage in the eighteen-fifties it recalls a delightful
reality. There are players whose individuality is so vital, so redolent
of strength and joy, that the idea of death is never associated with
them. Like great poetic thoughts, they enjoy an immortal youth in the
imagination, and to hear that they are dead is to suffer the shock of
something seeming strange and unnatural as well as grimly sad. Such an
actor was Sedley-Smith. Robust, rosy, stately, with a rich, ringing
voice, a merry laugh, and a free and noble courtesy of demeanor, he
lives in my remembrance as a perfect incarnation of generous life,--glad
in its strength and diffusive of gladness and strength all around him.
His talents were versatile. He played all parts well and in some he was
superlatively excellent. There has been no _Sir Oliver Surface_ on the
modern Stage to be compared with his. It came upon the duplicity and
foul sentimentalism of the scheming _Joseph_ like a burst of sunshine on
a dirty fog, and the gladness that it inspired in the breast of the
sympathetic spectator was of the kind that brings tears into the eyes.
The man who inspired the personation was felt to be genuine--a type of
nature’s nobility. His _Old Dornton_, in “The Road to Ruin,” was a
stately, pathetic type of character, animated by what seems, after all,
the best of human emotions,--paternal love. He could impart an
impressive dignity even to the fur-trimmed anguish of the sequestered
_Stranger_.
Sedley-Smith’s professional career covered a period of more than fifty
years. He began at the foot of the ladder and he mounted to a pinnacle
of solid excellence and sound repute. He was born, December 4, 1806,
near Montgomery, in Wales. His father was an officer in the British
Army and was killed in battle in one of the engagements, under
Wellington, of the Peninsular War. His father’s brother, also a soldier,
fought at Waterloo, was twice wounded there, and became a Knight
Commander of the Bath. It will be seen that this actor had an ancestry
of courage and breeding. He was a posthumous child, and the widowed
mother married again,--thus, unwittingly, imposing on her boy the
misfortune of an unhappy home. The stepfather and the child were soon at
variance. One day, the lad being only fourteen years old, a contention
occurred between them, which ended in his being locked into his chamber.
At night he got out of a window and escaped, leaving home forever. To
earn his living he joined a company of strolling players, and to avoid
detection and recapture he adopted the name of Smith, by which name he
was ever after professionally known, though in private affairs he used
his true name, Sedley.
The early part of his career was full of vicissitude and trouble. He was
not one of those dreamers who think themselves commissioned to clutch at
a grasp that proficiency in a most difficult art which scarcely rewards
even the faithful and loving labor of a lifetime. He chose to learn his
profession by study and work--and he did so. His first appearance on
the stage was made at Shrewsbury, and some of his earlier successes were
gained at Glasgow. He came to America in 1827 and appeared at the Walnut
Street Theatre, Philadelphia, as _Jeremy Diddler_, in “Raising the
Wind.” His most valuable repute was won in Boston, where he first
appeared in 1828, at the Tremont Theatre, as _Rolando_, in “The
Honeymoon.” In 1836 he managed Pelby’s National Theatre in that city,
and from 1843 to 1860 he was stage manager of the Boston Museum. He
married, shortly after his arrival in America, Miss Eliza Riddle
(1808?-1861), in her time one of the most sparkling, bewitching, and
popular performers of Comedy that our Stage has known. His first
performance in New York occurred at the Chatham Street Theatre, November
3, 1840, when he acted _Edgar_ to the _King Lear_ of Junius Brutus
Booth. The public also saw him at that time as _Laertes_, _Gratiano_,
and _Marc Antony_. His last professional appearance in New York was made
at the Winter Garden, May 6, 1865, for the benefit of his daughter, Mary
Sedley, known to contemporary playgoers as Mrs. Sol. Smith. Later, he
went to San Francisco, where he immediately became a favorite--and he
deserved his favor and his fame, because his art was intellectual,
truthful, conscientious, significant with thought and purpose, and warm
with emotion. He
[Illustration:
Courtesy Miss Blanche Bates. The Albert Davis Collection.
MRS. FRANK MARK BATES SALLIE HINCKLEY
_From old photographs_]
died, in San Francisco, January 17, 1872, in the sixty-sixth year of his
age, leaving no work undone that he could do and therefore ending in the
fulness of time. He was acquainted with grief, but there was one sorrow
he escaped,--he never knew “how dull it is to pause.”
It is obvious that no influence could have been more helpful to the
eager, ingenuous, stage-struck Belasco than that of this sturdy,
experienced, grand old actor and director, attracted and pleased by the
fervor of a schoolboy seeking ingress to the Theatre. Belasco’s
assurance that he wrote a good hand when he was a boy, however difficult
that may be to believe now, is correct (I have independently ascertained
that he took a prize for penmanship at the Lincoln School), and
Smith,--who was stage manager of the California Theatre,--gave him odd
pieces of work to do making fair copies of prompt-books of plays
produced at the California, and also, from time to time, employed him to
“go on” in the mobs, crowds, etc. To him Belasco confided his ambition
to act _Hamlet_, _Iago_, and romantic characters, and by him he was
advised to throw away ambition of that kind, physical exility making his
success improbable (“you would need to be a head taller,” the veteran
assured him), and to devote himself to what are termed “character parts”
(miscalled by that designation, every part being a _character_ part:
“eccentric” is the quality really meant) and the study of stage
management. If Smith had lived a little longer Belasco probably would
have had better opportunity at the California Theatre, but the old man
died before the youth had been more than about six months embarked on
his professional theatrical career. Nevertheless, he owes much to the
instruction and advice of that wise and kind friend.
ADOPTION OF THE STAGE.
Belasco’s actual adoption of the dramatic calling as a means of
livelihood, as nearly as the fact can be determined, occurred on July
10, 1871, near the close of his eighteenth year, when he acted a minor
part in a play called “Help,” by Frederick G---- Marsden, which was
presented with Joseph Murphy (1832-1915) in its central part. This actor
had been for some time a favorite minstrel and variety performer in San
Francisco, generally billed as “Joe” Murphy (his real name was
Donnelly), and had made his first appearance in this play of “Help,” May
8, 1871, at Wood’s Museum, New York, acting _Ned Daly_, an Irish comedy
character, shown under several aliases and in various amusing and
otherwise effective situations. Murphy’s professional associates at the
Metropolitan, among whom Belasco was thus launched upon actual
theatrical employment, were John R. Woodard, J. H. Hardie, J. C.
McGuire, W. C. Dudley, Frank Rea, H. Swift, George Hinckley, R. A.
Wilson, J. H. Vinson, Mrs. F. M. Bates (mother of that fine actress
Blanche Bates, so widely and rightly popular in our time), Mrs. Frank
Rea, Sallie A. Hinckley, Carrie Lipsis, Jennie Mandeville, Susie Soulé,
and Ada Shattuck. Belasco, at first, was a super, but later he was
provided with a few words. His school days had now come to an end, and
from the time of his appearance in “Help” he continued, irregularly but
persistently, and at last successfully, in the service of the Theatre.
BELASCO’S THEATRICAL NOVITIATE.
Belasco believes that soon after his appearance with Murphy, in “Help,”
he was associated with the Chapman Sisters, but he is again mistaken.
Murphy was at the Metropolitan in July, 1872. There is no record of an
appearance of the Chapman Sisters there between that time and March 5,
1873, on which latter date a “Grand Re-Opening of the Metropolitan
Theatre” occurred, under the direction of John Woodard. That
“re-opening” was announced thus:
“The want of a People’s Theatre having long been felt in this
community, the management has determined to present their patrons a
First Class Theatre with First Class Stars and a First Class
Company, with prices of admission placed within the reach of all.
PRICES:
Dress Circle 75 cents.
Orchestra 50 cents.
Gallery 25 cents.
“The Talented and Beautiful Chapman Sisters will appear in [H. J.]
Byron’s splendid burlesque, ’Little Don Giovanni; or, Leperello and
the Stone Statue.’ Performance to begin with ’Ici on Parle
Français.’”
Belasco was a member of the Metropolitan Company at that time, having
appeared five days earlier, in a performance by way of “A Grand
Complimentary Benefit to Marian Mordaunt,” with, among others, Alice
Harrison, D. C. Anderson, Owen Marlowe, James C. Williamson, Henry
Edwards, Henry Courtaine, John Woodard, and Charles E. Allen,--those
players having been assembled from several companies. The bill included
“A Morning Call,” “The Colleen Bawn,” and the First and Second acts of
“Darling.” Belasco, on the occasion
[Illustration:
From old photographs. Belasco’s Collection.
THE CHAPMAN SISTERS
ELLA CHAPMAN BLANCHE CHAPMAN]
of that benefit, played _Peter Bowbells_, in “The Illustrious Stranger.”
In the opening bill of the Chapman Sisters, “Little Don Giovanni,”
Belasco acted the _First Policeman_. Other plays in which the Chapmans
appeared during that engagement were “Checkmate,” March 21;
“Schermerhorn’s Boy,” April 2; “The Wonderful Scamp; or, Aladdin No. 2,”
and “The Statue Lover,” April 3; “Pluto,” April 15; and “The Beauty and
the Brigands.” In those plays Belasco acted, respectively, _Strale_,
_Reuben_, the _Genius of the Ring_, _Peter True_, the _First Fury_, and
_Mateo, the Landlord_. “A Kiss in the Dark” and “A Happy Pair” were also
played at the Metropolitan at this time, and probably he appeared in
them, but I have not found specification of his doing so. The Chapman
Sisters, Blanche and Ella, were daughters of an English actor, Henry
Chapman (1822-1865), and were handsome and proficient players of
burlesque. One of their most successful vehicles was “The Gold Demon.”
Belasco appeared in it with them (March 18, 1873), as _Prince
Saucilita_, and made up and played in imitation of a local eccentricity,
known as “Emperor” Norton. His performance, practically a caricature,
was considered clever and it elicited considerable commendation. “The
Figaro” critic wrote of him: “D. Belasco took the house by storm with
his make-up for ’Emperor’ Norton, which was quite a feature of the
piece.” Actors have often exhibited theatrical travesties of anomalous
individuals: Samuel Foote (1720-1777), on the old English Stage,
frequently did so: sometimes such exhibitions have proved attractive to
the public and largely remunerative: generally they are trivial and
contemptible. Thomas D. Rice (1808-1860), the actor who carried Joseph
Jefferson, as a child, upon the stage, in 1833,--the first time he was
ever seen there,--gained wealth and popularity by copying the grotesque
behavior of an old negro named “Jim” Crow, who had been a slave and who
was well known to residents of Louisville, Kentucky, about 1828-’29.
Edwin Booth, in his novitiate, made a “hit” in San Francisco, about
1852-’53, by imitating a local notoriety named Plume. It did not,
however, in his case, lead on to fortune,--nor did it in that of young
Belasco as “Emperor” Norton. His remuneration was, for a long time,
extremely small. While employed at the Metropolitan Theatre he earned
six dollars a week, extra, by copying sets of the “parts” of plays, for
the use of actors,--work done after the performance at night. “I wrote a
beautiful hand in those days,” he told me; “almost like engraved
script,--though perhaps you won’t believe it now.”
A THEATRICAL VAGABOND.
Belasco was fortunate in his early days in an acquaintance with an actor
and theatrical agent, James H. McCabe, who loaned him many old plays,
which he studied, and also with R. M. Edwards, a representative in San
Francisco of Samuel French, the New York publisher of French’s Standard
Drama, etc., who provided him with opportunity to augment his knowledge
of theatrical publications and of plays in manuscript. McCabe sometimes
procured professional employment for him, but his occupation was
consistently desultory. He traversed the Pacific Coast, to and fro,
during several years, with various bands of vagabond players, gleaning a
precarious subsistence in a wild and often dangerous country, going
south into Lower California and into Mexico, and going north to Seattle
and to the home of his childhood, Victoria. Sometimes he ventured into
the mountain settlements and mining camps of the inland country,
travelling by stage when it was possible to do so, by wagon when he and
his associates were lucky enough to have one, often on horseback or
muleback, oftener on foot, performing in all sorts of places and glad
and grateful for anything he could earn. His account of that period, as
he has related it to me, is quite as replete with vicissitude,
hardship, squalor, toil, romance, and misery as are the narratives over
which the theatrical student muses, marvels, and saddens when reading
the “Memoirs of Tate Wilkinson,” Ryley’s “Itinerant,” Charlotte Charke’s
miserable narrative, or the story of Edmund Kean. “Many a time,” Belasco
has told me, “I’ve marched into town, banging a big drum or tooting a
cornet. We used to play in any place we could hire or get into,--a hall,
a big dining room, an empty barn; anywhere! I spent much of my second
season on the stage (if it can be called ’on the stage’) roaming the
country, and in that way got my first experience as a stage
manager,--which meant being responsible for everything; and in the years
that followed I had many another such engagement. I’ve interviewed an
angry sheriff ’many a time and oft’ (the sheriffs generally owned the
places we played in), or an angrier hotel-keeper, when we couldn’t pay
our board. I’ve been locked up because I couldn’t pay a dollar or two
for food and a bed; I’ve washed dishes and served as a waiter; I’ve done
pretty much everything, working off such debts; and sometimes I’ve had
the exciting pleasure of running away, sometimes alone, sometimes with
others, before the hotel-keeper got ’on’ that we hadn’t money enough to
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID BELASCO
About 1873-’75]
pay. I acted many parts in my first seasons ’on the road’--among them
_Raphael_, in ’The Marble Heart’; _Mr. Toodle_, in the farce of ’The
Toodles’; _Robert Macaire_; _Hamlet_; _Uncle Tom_; _Modus_, in ’The
Hunchback’; _Marc Antony_, in ’Julius Cæsar’; _Dolly Spanker_, in
’London Assurance’; _Mercutio_, and scores of others I can’t instantly
call to mind.”
After considerable of the nomadic experience thus indicated, Belasco,
returning to San Francisco, obtained, through his friend McCabe, an
engagement in the company of Annie Pixley (Mrs. Robert Fulford,
1858-1893), remembered for her performance of _M’liss_, in a rough
melodrama, by Clay M. Greene, remotely based on Bret Harte’s tenderly
human and touching story bearing that name. For Annie Pixley he made a
serviceable domestic drama on the basis of Tennyson’s “Enoch Arden”
(which poem had been published in 1864), and he acted in it, with her,
as _Philip Ray_. That subject had been brought on the stage in a play by
Mme. Julie de Marguerittes (1814-1866), in which Edwin Adams gained
renown as the unhappy, heroic _Enoch_. For his play on the subject
Belasco received from Fulford $25. Later, he figured as an itinerant
peddler, frequenting fairs at various towns in the neighborhood of San
Francisco. In this character his attire comprised a black coat and
trousers, a “stovepipe” hat, and a wig and whiskers. “I used to buy
goods on credit,” he told me, “and take them along; then I would get a
soap-box or a barrel on the lot, or perhaps on a corner, and recite
until I had a crowd, and then work attention ’round to my goods, which I
generally managed to sell out.”
EMULATION OF WALTER MONTGOMERY.
Belasco, in his youth, entertained an admiration that was almost
idolatrous for Walter Montgomery, an American actor who, coming from
Australia, played in California when the boy was about seventeen years
old. His spirit of emulation was fired by the extraordinary efforts
which were put forth by that fine player to signalize the close of his
engagement in San Francisco. On the night of June 17, 1870, supported by
Barrett, McCullough, and the California Theatre stock company,
Montgomery acted _Shylock_, _Romeo_, _King John_, _Hotspur_, _Hamlet_,
_Benedick_ and _King Louis the Eleventh_, in selected scenes from seven
plays. On the next night he acted _Marc Antony_, in a revival of “Julius
Cæsar,”--that being his last appearance in California as an actor. On
June 20 and 21 the California Theatre was devoted to “Walter Montgomery
in His Celebrated Royal Recitals.” This was his programme on the first
night:
Seven Ages “As You Like It.”
Soliloquy on Death “Hamlet.”
_Hubert_ and _Arthur_ “King John.”
Churchyard Scene “Hamlet.”
“The Bridge of Sighs” Hood.
“The Bells” Poe.
“The Vulgar Boy” Ingoldsby.
“The Bruce” John Brougham.
(Written expressly for Mr. Montgomery.)
“Charge of the Light Brigade” Tennyson.
On the second night he gave:
_Polonius_ to his Son “Hamlet.”
_Wolsey’s_ Farewell “King Henry VIII.”
Dream of _Clarence_ “King Richard III.”
_Benedick’s_ Conversion “Much Ado About Nothing.”
_Brutus’_ Oration “Julius Cæsar.”
_Antony’s_ Oration “Julius Cæsar.”
“The Raven” Poe.
“Ben Battle” Hood.
“The Bloomsbury Christening” Dickens.
As soon as possible after seeing Montgomery’s remarkable display of
talent and versatility Belasco began to give public recitals, arranged
in general upon the model of Montgomery’s, though varied to suit his own
requirements. Chief among his selections were “The Vagabonds,” “The
Maniac,” “Curfew Must Not Ring To-night,” “Bernardo del Carpio,”
_Hubert’s_ scene with _Prince Arthur_, from “King John”; _Marc Antony’s_
Oration, and _Hamlet’s_ Soliloquy on Death. He also gave imitations of
various actors well known to the California public.
A ROMANTIC COURTSHIP.--MARRIAGE.
In the latter part of 1870 or early in 1871, while giving recitations at
Platt’s Hall and elsewhere in San Francisco, his attention was attracted
by an exceptionally handsome girl,--whom he has described as one “all
compact of sweetness,”--who occupied a front seat on every occasion of
his appearance. This young lady (she was little more than a child, being
then only fifteen years old) was Miss Cecilia Loverich. After some time
he was fortunate enough to obtain an introduction to her, at a private
house where he had been engaged to give some recitations, and the
acquaintance thus formed, and earnestly pursued by the romantic youth,
soon ripened into a serious attachment. “I was nobody,” said Belasco to
me, “and she was a beauty, of wealthy family, and,--young as she
was,--already much followed. I did not have much hope at first; but I
didn’t despair altogether, either. If I was only a struggling
[Illustration: CECILIA LOVERICH. MRS. DAVID BELASCO
From a photograph.
Belasco’s Collection.]
beginner on the stage, a sort of strolling spouter, still _she_ found my
performances worth coming to see, over and over again!” The lover’s suit
was not impaired by the fact that presently he suffered a serious
physical injury, the rupture of a vein in one of his feet, which took a
course so unfavorable there was danger that amputation would be
necessary: a dark-haired, pale, dreamy-eyed, romantic youth sometimes
becomes more than usually interesting to a gentle, compassionate young
woman when he is hurt and suffering. Although incapacitated for several
weeks, during which time Miss Loverich paid him many delicate
attentions, Belasco finally recovered, after a minor operation,--though,
from his account of this episode, I surmise he came near dying under an
anæsthetic. For a while he was compelled to use crutches, but ultimately
he resumed his professional labor. The marriage of David Belasco and
Cecilia Loverich was solemnized, August 26, 1873, at the home of his
parents, No. 174 Clara Street, San Francisco,--Rabbi Neustader
performing the ceremony. At that time the actor was employed at Shiels’
Opera House: during about a year after their marriage his wife travelled
with him on some of his various barnstorming expeditions--and that was
the happiest experience of his life.
The engagement of the Chapman Sisters at the Metropolitan Theatre was
ended on April 27, 1873, with a representation of “Cinderella” (produced
there April 23),--in which Belasco probably participated,--that being
the last regular theatrical performance given there. During several
weeks immediately sequent to that event Belasco travelled with the
Chapman Sisters, under the management of Woodard, playing in Sacramento
(May 3) and in many other California and Pacific Coast cities and towns.
By about the middle of June, however, he had returned to San Francisco;
and, not being able to obtain immediate employment in the theatres, he
worked for about two months as amanuensis for an old actor, James H. Le
Roy, who had turned his attention to playwrighting. On June 30 Belasco
was present at the opening of Shiels’ Opera House (afterward the Opera
House, Gray’s Opera House, etc.), when Bella Pateman (1844-1908) made
her first appearance in San Francisco,--acting _Mariana_, in “The Wife,”
with Frank Roche as _Julian St. Pierre_ and A. D. Billings as _Antonio_.
“They did three or four more plays at Shiels’,--‘The Marble Heart,’ ’The
Lady of Lyons,’ and other well-worn old pieces,”--so Belasco has said to
me; “but the business was light and they needed a novelty. I had
mentioned Wilkie Collins’ ’The New Magdalen’ [published that year] to Le
Roy as containing good material for a play and he had bought a copy of
the book and begun to make a dramatization. He told Miss Pateman about
it and when she agreed that it would make a fine play for her he
hastened his work, dictating to me, and it was brought out soon
afterward.” Le Roy’s “dramatization” of Collins’ novel was produced at
Shiels’ Opera House on July 14, 1873, and it was the first, or one of
the first, stage adaptations of the story to be acted in America:
piratical versions of it eventually became so numerous that, at one
time, they could be bought for $10! Collins, in the disgraceful state of
American copyright law at that time, was helpless to prevent what he
designated, in writing to me, as the “larcenous appropriation of my poor
’Magdalen.’” As illustrating the practical value of priority in such
matters and an injury often inflicted on authorship, it is significant
to recall that Le Roy’s scissored version of the novel and Miss
Pateman’s performance in it were much preferred, in San Francisco, to
the drama made by Collins, as it was acted there, at the California
Theatre, by Carlotta Leclercq (1838-1893), September 22, 1873.--This was
the cast of the principal parts at Shiels’:
_Rev. Julian Gray_ Frank Roche.
_Horace Holmcroft_ Charles Edmonds.
_Surgeon Ignatius Wetze_ A. D. Billings.
_Lady Janet Roy_ Mrs. Charles Edmonds.
_Grace Roseberry_ Jean Clara Walters.
_Mercy Merrick_ Bella Pateman.
Writing about the production of Le Roy’s “larcenous appropriation,”
Belasco has said: “When it was ready it represented a week of pasting,
cutting, and putting together.... It proved to be one of the greatest
successes San Francisco ever had.... As for the actress, Bella Pateman,
she was a wonderful woman of tears, always emotionally true, and she
became the idol of the hour, for her _Mercy Merrick_ showed her to be an
artist of great worth.” Miss Pateman was an accomplished actress (her
professional merit was much extolled in conversation with me by both
Edwin Booth and Lawrence Barrett), and she became an exceptional public
favorite in San Francisco. Her first engagement in that city continued
until August 16, and, after July 14, it was devoted on all but four
nights to repetitions of “The New Magdalen.”
Belasco’s association with Le Roy brought him into contact with persons
influential in management of Shiels’ Opera House and he was fortunate
enough to be engaged as a member of a stock company which was organized
to succeed Miss Pateman there. The first star to appear with that
company was Joseph Murphy, in a revival, made August 18, of
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. The Albert Davis Collection.
JOSEPH MURPHY]
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Courtesy of Mrs. Lou. Devney.
JOHN PIPER]
“Maum Cre,” which held the stage for one week and in which Belasco acted
the small part of _Bloater_. On August 25, the night before his wedding,
he played with Murphy as _Bob Rackett_, in “Help,” and on September 1 as
_Baldwin_, in “Ireland and America.” Murphy’s engagement ended September
7. The next night Frederick Lyster made his first appearance at Shiels’
(of which A. M. Gray had become “sole proprietor”) in “The Rising Moon,”
and I believe that Belasco played in it, though I have not found a
record of his doing so. On September 10 Laura Alberta was the star, in
“Out at Sea,” Belasco playing with her as _Harvey_. During the next six
weeks he acted at Shiels’--personating _Sambo_, in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,”
and _Major Hershner_, in “Twice Saved; or, Bertha the Midget,” with Miss
Alberta; _Spada_, in “The Woman in Red,” with Fanny Cathcart, and
_Darley_, in “Dark Deeds,” with Miss Cathcart and George Darrell. Other
plays presented at Shiels’ during the period indicated include “More
Blunders Than One,” “Little Katy; or, The Hot Corn Girl,” “The Stage
Struck Chamber-Maid,” “Man and Wife” (Darrell’s version), “The Mexican
Tigress,” and “Evenings at Home.” It is probable that Belasco appeared
in all or most of those plays, but I have not been able to find
programmes or other records showing that he did so. On October 18 he
participated in a benefit for James Dunbar at Gray’s Opera House (that
name was first used on October 3), playing _Mons. Voyage_, in the Third
Act of “Ireland As It Was.”
THEATRICAL LIFE IN VIRGINIA CITY.
After his employment at Gray’s Opera House Belasco obtained an
engagement with John Piper and joined the theatrical company maintained
by that manager at Piper’s Opera House, Virginia City, Nevada, at that
time one of the most disorderly, dissolute, and disreputable towns in
the United States. This “Opera House” was built by Maguire, in 1863, and
did not become known as “Piper’s” till several years later. It was
utilized for all kinds of public meetings, social and political, as well
as for theatrical performances, and, judging from the history of Nevada,
was, in early days, most noted as the scene of prize pugilistic combats.
Piper, who was not only a speculative manager, but also a hotel-keeper,
seems likewise to have been a shrewd, hard, unscrupulous person, not,
however, devoid of rough kindness. By way of keeping his theatrical
company well in hand he pursued the ingenious method of permitting its
members to run into debt to him, to the amount of $1,500, and then
withholding their salaries, thus, practically, making them prisoners
till they had worked off the debt. Charges for everything were
extortionate in Virginia City in that period, and Piper readily
succeeded in entangling his actors, and he made it exceedingly difficult
for them to extricate themselves. “I tried to run away from him,” said
Belasco, telling me this story, “but got no further than Reno, where the
sheriff, a ’pal’ of his, took me in charge and ’returned’ me for the
debt!” In Virginia City he saw much more of that lawlessness,
recklessness, and savagery which had already colored his thoughts and
served to direct his mind into the lurid realm of sensation melodrama.
There, also, he renewed acquaintance with various actors of prominence
whom he had previously met in the course of his wanderings, and there he
became associated with other performers, then or afterward
distinguished. He acted many parts under Piper’s management, among them
_Buddicombe_, in “Our American Cousin,” when Edward A. Sothern, as _Lord
Dundreary_, was the star, and _Don Cæsar_, in John Westland Marston’s
“Donna Diana” (published 1863), a drama based on a Spanish original by
Augustin Moreto (1618-1661), which was presented by the once famous
Mrs. David P---- Bowers (1830-1895), an actress of great ability and
charm, whom persons who saw her in her best days do not forget. Belasco
remembers having acted with her, either at Virginia City or elsewhere in
the West, as _Maffeo Orsini_, in “Lucretia Borgia”; _Charles Oakley_, in
“The Jealous Wife”; _Richard Hare_, in “East Lynne,” and a _Page_, in
“Mary Stuart,” and I have heard him speak of her with an ardor of
admiration which I can well understand, and with deep gratitude for
kindness shown him in the time of his necessitous youth.
DION BOUCICAULT AND KATHARINE RODGERS.
Another eminent actor whom he met for the first time at Piper’s Opera
House,--according to his recollection, in the Winter of 1873,--was Dion
Boucicault (1822?-1890), who appears to have noticed him as a youth of
talent and promise and to have treated him with favor. Boucicault could
ingratiate himself with almost any person, when he chose to do so,
and,--whenever they may have met,--he readily won the admiration of
young Belasco, who closely studied his acting and the mechanism of his
plays, and whose work, as a dramatist and a manager, has been, in a
great degree, moulded by his abiding influence. Boucicault,
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
MRS. D. P. BOWERS]
while in Virginia City, employed Belasco as an amanuensis, and
(according to Belasco’s recollection) incidentally dictated to him a
part of the drama of “Led Astray,” a fabric which he was then
“conveying” from a French original, “La Tentation,” by Octave Feuillet
(1821-1890). That play was first presented in New York, at the Union
Square Theatre, December 6, 1873, with Rose Eytinge and Charles Robert
Thorne, Jr., in the leading parts. Another important player with whom
Belasco became professionally associated in Virginia City was Katharine
Rodgers, a remarkably clever actress and fascinating as a woman, who had
gained reputation on the English Stage and who came to America with
Boucicault and for some time acted under his direction, in “Mimi,”--a
play that he made for her use, out of “La Vie de Bohème,”--and in other
plays, winning much popularity. This performer had been the wife of
James Rodgers (1826-1890), a genial, respected English actor, long
associated with the theatres of Manchester and Birmingham.
CONFLICTIVE TESTIMONY.
I have made scrupulous inquiry relative to Belasco’s first meeting with
Boucicault (an event the exact date of which, since it profoundly
influenced his career, ought to be established), and, although the
former is positive that his memory of the occurrence is correct, I have
become convinced that he has much confused the time and circumstances.
The process of such misremembrances as this of Belasco’s is neither
unusual nor difficult to understand. From 1873 to 1883 his life was
feverish with activity. During that period he certainly met Boucicault,
in Virginia City, and was there associated with him, as amanuensis. When
“La Tentation” and Boucicault’s version of that play, called “Led
Astray,” were acted in San Francisco (April, 1874), Belasco saw them,
and, like many other persons associated with the Theatre, he heard much
of the disputation which eddied round them. Years later, remembering his
association with Boucicault, in Virginia City, the mistaken impression
found lodgment in his mind that it was “Led Astray” on which the elder
playwright was at work when they became acquainted, and, by repetition
and elaboration, that erroneous belief has become fixed. To my objection
that it is _absolutely impossible_ that Boucicault could have dictated
to him “Led Astray” Belasco’s reply, several times iterated, is, in
effect, that Boucicault was working on the play “long before” it was
produced in New York and that, whether possible or not, he is “very
positive” Boucicault _did_ dictate it to him, in Virginia City, during a
blizzard. It would not be just to Belasco, he being sure that his
recollection of this affair is absolutely accurate, to assert that it is
wholly incorrect without giving his explicit statement of the incidents.
Therefore, I quote it here, from his “Story”:
“When Boucicault reached Virginia City, he was under contract to
deliver a play to A. M. Palmer, of New York. ’Led Astray’ was its
title. But his writing hand was so knotted with gout that he could
scarcely hold a pen. Boucicault was noted for being a very
secretive man. He would never have a secretary because he feared
such a man might learn too much of his methods of work. He was in
the habit of saying: ’I can’t write a line when I dictate. I think
better when I have a pen in my hand.’
“But now he had to have assistance to finish ’Led Astray.’ At this
time I had some slight reputation as a stage manager and author. In
those days everything was cut and dried, and the actor’s positions
were as determined as those of the pawns on a chess-board. But
whenever an opportunity offered itself, I would introduce something
less rigorous in the way of action, much to the disgust of the
older players. Boucicault must have heard of my revolutionary
methods, for he sent me a message to come and see him and have a
chat with him. With much perturbation, I went to his hotel and
knocked on his door.
“‘They tell me you write plays,’ he began. Then followed question
after question. He tested my handwriting, he commented on certain
stage business he had heard me suggest the day before; then he said
abruptly:
“‘I want you to take dictation for me,--I’m writing a play for the
Union Square Theatre,--you have probably heard of the manager, A.
M. Palmer,--at one time a librarian, but now giving Lester Wallack
and Augustin Daly a race for their lives. I hope, young man, you
can keep a secret; you strike me as being “still water.” Whatever
you see, I want you to forget.’
“So I sat at a table, took my coat off and began Act One of ’Led
Astray.’ Boucicault lay propped up with pillows, before a blazing
fire, a glass of hot whisky beside him. It was not long before I
found out that he was the terror of the whole house. If there was
the slightest noise below stairs or in the street, he would raise
such a hubbub until it stopped that I had never heard the like of
before.
“Whenever he came to a part of the dialogue requiring Irish, I
noticed how easily his dictation flowed. When he reached a dramatic
situation, he acted it out as well as his crippled condition would
allow. One thing I noticed particularly: he always held a newspaper
in his hand and gave furtive glances at something behind it I was
not supposed to see. I was determined, however, to know just what
he was concealing from me.
“The opportunity came one morning when he was called out of the
room. Before he went, I noted how careful he was to place a
newspaper so that it completely hid the thing under it. I went
quickly to the table, and, turning over the pages, I found a French
book, ’La Tentation,’ from which the entire plot of ’Led Astray’
was taken. In those days, authors did not credit the original
source from which they adapted. But Boucicault was more than an
adapter--he was a brilliant and indefatigable slave, resting
neither night
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
DION BOUCICAULT
“THE MASTER OF THE REVELS”]
nor day. There is no doubt that even though he adapted,--in
accordance with the custom of the time,--he added to the original
source, making everything he touched distinctly his own. He left
everything better than he found it; his pen was often inspired, and
in spite of his many traducers, he was the greatest genius of our
Theatre at that time. Boucicault was a master craftsman....”
I am inclined to the opinion that the play of which Boucicault actually
_did_ dictate a part to Belasco, during the early days of their
acquaintance, in Virginia City, is, perhaps, “Forbidden Fruit,”--which
was derived from a French original, and which was first produced at
Wallack’s Theatre, October 3, 1876: it is, however, to be remembered
that there _is_ an Irish character,--a kind of _Sir Lucius
O’Trigger_-turned-blackguard, who is designated _Major O’Hara_,--in “Led
Astray.” Nevertheless, as to Belasco’s reminiscence of the writing of
that play, I am convinced that, though interesting, it is wholly
apocryphal; the following is a summary of my reasons for so believing:
Belasco did not make his first appearance with Minnie Wells, at the
Metropolitan Theatre, San Francisco, until December 16, 1872, and, of
course, his meeting with Boucicault could not have preceded that date.
Boucicault, moreover, and his wife, the beautiful Agnes Robertson, were
absent from this country, according to my records, for about twelve
years preceding 1872. In the Fall of that year they returned to America,
and, on September 23, they reappeared together, at Booth’s Theatre, New
York, in “Arrah-na-Pogue.” They acted there until November 16, and then
made a tour through various cities of the country, but, as far as I have
been able to ascertain, they did not go west of St. Louis, Missouri.
Boucicault reappeared in New York, at Booth’s Theatre, March 17, 1873,
acting, for the first time anywhere, _Daddy O’Dowd_, of which part he
gave truly a great impersonation and on which he had been at work during
all his tour. His engagement at Booth’s lasted until May 10. From that
date to the latter part of August Boucicault was in New York,--except
when he visited the ingratiating but false-hearted William Stuart
(Edmund C. O’Flaherty, 1821-1886), at New London, Connecticut. During
that period he was actively engaged on many projects,--the completion,
rehearsal, and presentment of “Mora,” which was brought out at Wallack’s
Theatre, June 3, and of “Mimi,” produced there on July 1; the writing of
other plays, and business negotiations relative to the building and
opening of Stuart’s Park Theatre, which, originally, was intended for
his use. (Stuart, after many postponements, opened it, April 15, 1874,
presenting Charles Fechter in “Love’s Penance.”) On August 28, 1873,
Boucicault began an engagement at Wallack’s Theatre, acting in “Kerry”
and “Used Up.” A few days later he broke down and went to New London to
rest. On September 16, that year, in company with me, among others, he
attended the first performance in America given by Tommaso Salvini: I
talked with him there--at the Academy of Music. On December 6, 1873, his
“Led Astray” was produced, for the first time anywhere, at the Union
Square Theatre, New York. I was present, and I saw and heard Boucicault,
when he was called before the curtain, and, writing in “The New York
Tribune,” in the course of a review of the performance, I recorded the
following comment:
... The drama comes from the French of Octave Feuillet, _and it was
translated by Mr. Boucicault_. Whoever wishes to see with what an
assured step clever authorship can walk on ticklish ground may
behold the imposing spectacle at the Union Square Theatre. Mr.
Boucicault was called before the curtain on Saturday night by
vociferous applause, both at the end of the Third Act and at the
end of the play, and in the speech which finally he made he told
his auditors to give at least two-thirds of the credit for whatever
pleasure they had received to his friend Octave Feuillet. Mr.
Boucicault was also understood to say something about a projected
revival of Legitimate Drama. We were not aware of its demise. And,
even if it were dead, we fail to perceive how Mr. Boucicault could
manage to effect its resuscitation by the translating of French
plays of very doubtful propriety. It is to be remembered, though,
that Mr. Boucicault is an Irish gentleman and loves his joke.... In
this we perceive Mr. Boucicault’s preëminent skill. Nevertheless,
the appearance of Octave Feuillet’s name upon the playbill would be
noted with satisfaction. Mr. Boucicault should be aware that, by
lapses of this kind, he arms his detractors and is unjust to
himself....
Boucicault made his first appearance in San Francisco, at the California
Theatre, on January 19, 1874 (the bill was “Boucicault in
California,”--a weak sketch written for the occasion,--“Kerry,” and
“Jones’s Baby”), and he arrived in that city, a few days earlier, not
from Virginia City, but from Canada.
Belasco, meantime, was not established in Virginia City between
December, 1872, and October, 1873: on the contrary, during most, if not
all, of that time he was actively engaged in San Francisco (see my
Chronology of his life). He disappears, however, from all the San
Francisco records which I have been able to unearth after October 18,
1873, and I am satisfied that he then went to Virginia City, and there,
several months later, met both Boucicault and Katharine Rodgers, when
they were journeying eastward: Miss Rodgers first acted in
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Belasco’s Collection.
KATHARINE RODGERS]
San Francisco on February 3, 1874, at the California Theatre, in “Mimi.”
It seems obvious that Boucicault could not have dictated “Led Astray” to
Belasco, in Virginia City, at a time when neither of them was there, and
after that play had been acted in New York. If any other theatrical
antiquary, more fortunate than I, chances to possess authentic records
that show Boucicault and Belasco in conjunction, in Virginia City, prior
to about November 1, 1873, I should be glad to learn of them.
VARIEGATED EXPERIENCES.
It has not been possible to elicit an entirely satisfactory account of
Belasco’s career in the period extending from October 18, 1873, to about
the end of February, 1876. In particular, it has been impossible,
notwithstanding most earnest efforts, to establish the sequence of
incidents of his experience in Virginia City. Nevertheless, much that
occurred during the period indicated, nearly two and one-half years, has
been ascertained beyond question, and such gaps as occur in the records
have been supplied by reasonable surmise. He fulfilled, in all, five
engagements in Virginia City, and three, if not four, of them were
antecedent to “the fire” which, in 1875, devastated that mountain resort
of licence and crime. Among the actors with whom he was most closely
associated in Piper’s stock company were A. D. Billings, George Giddens,
Sydney Cowell (Mrs. Giddens), George Hinckley (uncle of Blanche Bates),
and Annie Adams (Mrs. Kiskaden, 1849-1916), mother of Miss Maude Adams.
The period of his first employment there was a trying one and during it
he broke down, became seriously ill, and was lodged for a time in the
home of Piper, where his illness was augmented by a distressing
experience with an unfortunate demented woman, the wife of Piper.
Recalling that ordeal, he has said: “Her husband, naturally, felt loath
to send his wife to the Insane Asylum in Stockton, so he had some rooms
padded and arranged as comfortably as possible for her in his own house.
I was ill there for three weeks, and my room, unhappily, was within
calling distance of Mrs. Piper’s. During the long nights I could hear
her groaning and crying out,--not a very encouraging atmosphere for one
who was himself suffering, and more from ’nerves’ than anything else.
Then one gray dawn I awoke to find Mrs. Piper standing at the foot of my
bed. Apparently she was as sane as any one, and she expressed great
solicitude as to my condition. It seemed to me an eternity as she stood
there, though in reality it was only about five minutes. Suddenly her
mood changed. ’I’m going to kill some one,’ she screamed, and made a
lunge for me. But, luckily, her keeper, who had heard her, came in and
restrained her, and we calmed her down and got her back to her own
rooms.”
Belasco’s financial debt to Piper must have been paid or compounded on
or about March 1, 1874, and his engagement in Virginia City terminated.
On March 10, that year, he certainly was employed as a super, at the
California Theatre, on the occasion of Adelaide Neilson’s first
appearance in San Francisco. The play was “Romeo and Juliet”: Lewis
Morrison acted _Romeo_ and Barton Hill _Mercutio_. Miss Neilson’s
engagement (during which she played _Rosalind_, _Lady Teazle_, _Julia_,
in “The Hunchback,” and _Pauline_, in “The Lady of Lyons,” as well as
_Juliet_) ended on March 30: Belasco, whose admiration for that great
actress was extreme, contrived to be employed at the California Theatre
during the whole of it. On April 4, following, “the Entire Lingard
Combination” appeared at the Opera House (so designated) in an English
version of Feuillet’s “La Tentation,” and on April 6 John T. Raymond
acted at the California Theatre as _Hector Placide_, in Boucicault’s
version of the same play, called “Led Astray.” Both those
representations were seen by Belasco.
On April 23 Raymond, at the California, produced, for the first time, a
stage synopsis made by Gilbert S. Densmore, of “The Gilded Age,” by
Samuel L. Clemens and Charles Dudley Warner. Writing of it, Belasco
says: “While that play was building Densmore talked it all over with me.
As it was originally written it was in five long acts and had in it a
curious medley of melodrama.... When the script was eventually read to
him [Raymond], all the comment he made, with a few of those choice
expletives which he knew so well how to choose, was that he hated all
courtroom scenes, except those in ’The Merchant of Venice’ and in
Boucicault’s ’The Heart of Midlothian.’... It was in this frame of mind
that he was finally persuaded to try ’The Gilded Age.’ Of course, the
play needed a lot of re-writing, and I don’t believe any one really
thought it would be successful. It was put on as a try-out because the
man was in such sore need of a vehicle, and, like so many other plays
which are produced as makeshifts, it soared its way into instant
popularity. It was not by any means a wonderful play in itself, it was
merely another instance of the personality of the player being fitted to
the part, and in the _rôle_ [_sic_] of _Colonel Mulberry Sellers_ John
T. Raymond found himself and, incidentally, fame and fortune.”
That is not altogether an accurate account of the dramatic genesis of
“The Gilded Age.” Densmore’s adaptation of the book was piratical, and
Clemens, hearing of it, protested vigorously, by telegraph, against
continuance of its presentment. It was acted _only once_ in San
Francisco, in 1874. Densmore finally arranged to sell his stage version
to Clemens, and that author himself made a dramatization of the novel.
Writing about it, to William Dean Howells, he says:
“I worked a month on my play, and launched it in New York last
Wednesday. I believe it will go. The newspapers have been
complimentary. It is simply a _setting_ for one character, _Colonel
Sellers_. As a play I guess it will not bear critical assault in
force.” In another letter Clemens says: “I entirely rewrote the
play _three separate and distinct times_. I had expected to use
little of his [Densmore’s] language and but little of his plot. I
do not think there are now twenty sentences of Mr. Densmore’s in
the play, but I used so much of his plot that I wrote and told him
I should pay him about as much more as I had already paid him in
case the play proved a success....”--Albert Bigelow Paine’s “Mark
Twain, a Biography.” Volume I., pp. 517-18.
On November 3, 1874, Raymond published the following letter:
(_From John T. Raymond to_ “_The New York Sun_.”)
“The Park Theatre, [New York].
“November 2, 1874.
“_To The Editor of ’The Sun’_:
“_Sir_:--
“An article headed ’The Story of “The Gilded Age”’ in ’The Sun’ of
this morning calls for a statement from me. The facts in the case
are simply these: In April last I commenced an engagement in San
Francisco. A few days after my arrival the manager of the theatre
mentioned that Mr. Densmore, the dramatic critic of ’The Golden
Era,’ had dramatized Mark Twain’s and Charles Warner’s novel of
’The Gilded Age,’ and would like to submit it to me. I read the
play, and the character of _Colonel Sellers_ impressed me so
favorably that I consented to produce the piece the last week of my
engagement. I did so, the play making a most pronounced hit. I then
arranged with Mr. Densmore for the right to perform the play
throughout the country. Upon my arrival in New York I heard that
Mr. Clemens had telegraphed to San Francisco protesting against the
play being performed, as he had reserved all rights in his
copyright of ’The Gilded Age.’ I at once recognized Mr. Clemens’
claim, and wrote to Mr. Densmore to that effect. I then
communicated with Clemens, with a view of having him write a play
with _Colonel Sellers_ as the chief character. While the
negotiation was pending I received a letter from Mr. Densmore,
requesting me to send the manuscript of his dramatization to
Clemens, as he had purchased it, and that he (Clemens) had acted in
a most liberal manner toward
[Illustration:
From a photograph by Mora. Belasco’s Collection.
JOHN T. RAYMOND
(1836-1887)]
him. I sent the manuscript to Mr. Clemens, but not until after he
had finished his play and read it to me, not one line of Mr.
Densmore’s dramatization being used in the present play, except
that which was taken bodily from the novel of ’The Gilded Age.’
These are the facts in the premises. Mr. Densmore’s play was a most
excellent one; the impression it made in San Francisco was of a
most pronounced character, but in no way [?] does it resemble the
present production, which is entirely the work of Mr. Samuel L.
Clemens (Mark Twain).
“Yours, &c.,
“John T. Raymond.”
Clemens’ “guess” as to the worth of his work as a play was short of the
truth: it was of no consequence, possessed practically no merit
whatever, except as a vehicle for the actor. [The character of _Colonel
Sellers_ is presented by the dramatist in only a few of the aspects
available for its exposition and is attached to the play by only a
slender thread. Raymond, nevertheless, by means of thorough
personification, made the character so conspicuous that it dominated the
whole action of the play. The common notion that words are indispensable
to the expression of character is unfounded. Character shows itself in
personality, which is the emanation of it, and which finds expression in
countless ways with which words are not associated. Personality was the
potent charm of Raymond’s embodiment of _Colonel Sellers_,--a
personality compounded of vigorous animal spirits, quaintness, rich
humor, amiability, recklessness, a chronic propensity for sport, a
sensitive temperament, and an ingenuous mind. The actor made the
character lovable not less than amusing, by the spontaneous suggestion
of innate goodness and by various scarcely definable sweetly winning
traits and ways. His grave inquiry as to the raw turnips, “Do you _like_
the fruit?” was irresistibly droll. His buoyant, confident
ejaculation,--closing each discourse on some visionary scheme of
profit,--“There’s _millions_ in it!” (which Raymond’s utterance made a
byword throughout America) completely expressed the spirit of the
sanguine speculator and was not less potently humorous because of a
certain vague ruefulness in the tone of it. In acting _Colonel Sellers_
Raymond did something that was new, did it in an individual way, was
original without being bizarre, and, possessing the humor which is akin
to pathos, he could cause the laugh that is close to the tear.--W.W. in
“The Wallet of Time.”] “The Gilded Age” was first acted in New York,
September 16, 1874, at the Park Theatre.
At about the time of the first San Francisco production of “The Gilded
Age” Belasco appears to have been employed by William Horace Lingard,
and it is practically certain that he was a member of Lingard’s
company,--though I have not ascertained in what capacity,--on the
occasion of “the grand opening of Maguire’s New Theatre” (which was the
old Alhambra Theatre, rebuilt and altered), on May 4, when “Creatures of
Impulse,” “Mr. and Mrs. Peter White,” and a miscellaneous entertainment
were presented there.
During the summer of 1874 Belasco worked as a secretary and copyist for
Barton Hill, at the California Theatre, and also he performed, in a
minor position, as an actor, at Maguire’s New Theatre. He was thus
associated with, among others, Sallie Hinckley, in a revival of “The New
Magdalen”; Charles Fechter and Lizzie V. Price in a repertory which
comprehended “Ruy Blas,” “Don Cæsar de Bazan,” “The Lady of Lyons,”
“Hamlet,” and “Love’s Penance”; Miss Jeffreys-Lewis and Charles Edwards
in “School,” Boucicault’s “The Willow Copse” and “The Unequal Match”;
William J. Coggswell in “Nick o’ the Woods”; Samuel W. Piercy in
“Hamlet,” and Charles Wheatleigh in a dramatization of “Notre Dame” and
in other plays. For Piercy Belasco has ever cherished extreme admiration
and a pitiful memory of his untimely death, which,--caused by
smallpox,--befell, in Boston, in 1882. During the summer of 1874
Belasco also made various brief and unimportant “barnstorming” ventures
in small towns and camps of California, Oregon, and Washington;
likewise, he was associated, as stage director, with several groups of
amateur actors in San Francisco. On August 31 a revival of Augustin
Daly’s play of “Divorce” was effected at Maguire’s,--James A. Herne (his
name billed without the “A.”) and Miss Jeffreys-Lewis playing the
principal parts in it. Whether or not Belasco was then in the company at
Maguire’s is uncertain, but I believe that he was. At any rate, when
Mlle. Marie Zoe,--designated as “The Cuban Sylph,”--began an engagement
there, September 14, in the course of which she appeared in “The French
Spy,” “The Pretty Housebreaker,” “Nita; or, Woman’s Constancy” (and
“Mazeppa”?), Belasco was employed to co-operate with her in sword
combats on the stage: he also served Mlle. Zoe, during her stay in San
Francisco, as a sort of secretary.
From October 1 to the latter part of December, 1874, Belasco continued
in employment at Maguire’s New Theatre, officiating not only as an actor
of small parts but as stage manager, as a hack playwright, and as
secretary for Maguire. On October 12 he played the _Dwarf_ (one of the
_Phantom Crew_ of _Hendrick Hudson_), in “Rip Van Winkle,” Herne
personating _Rip_ and Alice Vane appearing as _Gertrude_. On October 21
he participated in a representation of “The People’s Lawyer” (playing
_Lawyer Tripper_?), in which Herne acted as _Solon Shingle_. On the next
night “Alphonse” was acted at Maguire’s, but Belasco seems not to have
been in the bill, because he is positive that he attended the first
production in San Francisco, made that night at the California Theatre,
of Frank Mayo’s dramatization of Charles Reade’s powerful and painful
novel of “Griffith Gaunt.” “I made a version of that book,” Belasco has
told me, “and it was a good one, as I remember it; but it passed out of
my control soon after it was written: I sold it--to James McCabe, I
think,--for a few dollars. I know it was much played in the interior
[meaning the small towns of California, Nevada, etc.]. About the same
time that I made my version of ’Griffith Gaunt,’--which, of course, was
prompted by seeing Mayo’s,--we brought out a new play at Maguire’s,
called ’Lady Madge,’ by J. H. Le Roy. I don’t recall what it was about.
I remember that it was written expressly for Adele Leighton, a rich
novice, and that I did some work on it for Le Roy and made him a clean
script and set of the parts. Herne, Sydney Cowell, and Thomas Whiffen
were in the cast.” “Lady Madge” was acted at Maguire’s November 3, and
did not hold the stage for more than a week. On the 11th of that month a
dramatization of Lever’s “Charles O’Malley,” made by Herne, was brought
out, Herne appearing in it as _Mickey Free_ and Sydney Cowell as _Mary
Brady_. On November 16 Annette Ince and Ella Kemble acted at Maguire’s,
supported by Herne and Whiffen, in “The Sphinx,” and on the 26th a
notably successful revival was made of “Oliver Twist,”--a more or less
rehashed version of the dramatic epitome of the novel which had been
made known throughout our country by E. L. Davenport and James W.
Wallack, the Younger, being used. Herne played _Sikes_; Annette Ince,
_Nancy_; Ella Kemble, _Rosa Maylie_, and---- Lindsay, _Fagin_. On
December 1 “Carlotta! Queen of the Arena” was brought out, with Miss
Ince as _Carlotta_ and Herne as _Bambuno_. I have been able to find only
one other definite record of a performance at Maguire’s, prior to March
1, 1875; that record is of a presentment there of the old musical play
of “The Enchantress,” on December 24, with Amy Bennett in the principal
female part: Belasco directed the production (ostensibly under the stage
management of Herne) and appeared in the prologue as _Pietro_ and in the
drama as _Galeas_. “I did a lot of hard work on ’The Enchantress’ for
Miss Bennett’s appearance in it,--in fact, I rewrote most of the
dialogue,” Belasco has declared to me.
RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS.--1875.
In Pinero’s capital farce of “The Magistrate” _Mrs. Posket_, solicitous
to conceal her age, addresses to her friend _Colonel Lukyn_ an earnest
adjuration relative to an impending interview with her husband: “Don’t
give him _dates_; keep anything like _dates_ away from him!” Belasco’s
aversion to fixed facts fully equals that of the distressed lady,
though, in his case, it is temperamental instead of secretive. “The
vagabond,” he writes, “always says ’at this time,’ whether it be to-day
or to-morrow, and, like Omar, he ’lets the credit go.’ The incidents
that now come to mind are a little confused as to their chronological
order, but what does it matter, if the _impression_ is true!” It
“matters,” unfortunately, much,--because confusion and apparent
contradiction which result from lack of accuracy and order sometimes
tend to create an unjust belief that related incidents, actually
authentic, are untrue. It has, moreover, rendered protracted and tedious
almost beyond patience the work of compiling and arranging a clear,
sequent, authoritative account of Belasco’s long and extraordinary
career. I have ascertained divers particulars of his early experiences
and alliances (verifying them as _facts_ by diligent search and inquiry
in many directions), which, however, I have not invariably been able to
place in exact chronological order and which may conveniently be
summarized here.
Perhaps the most important single event of the first decade of Belasco’s
theatrical life was his employment in a responsible position at
Baldwin’s Academy of Music. But during about a year and a half prior to
his first engagement there, and also during about the same length of
time subsequent to it, he gained much valuable knowledge, in association
with various players, acting in “the lumber districts” of Oregon and
Washington; in Victoria and Nevada, and in many California towns,
including Oakland, Sacramento, Petaluma, Stockton, Marysville, San José,
etc. Wandering stars, of varying magnitude, with whom he thus appeared
include Sallie Hinckley and Mrs. Frank Mark Bates (respectively, aunt
and mother of Blanche Bates), Amy Stone, Ellie Wilton, Charles R.
Thorne, Sr., Mary Watson, Annie Pixley, Fanny Morgan Phelps, Frank I.
Fayne, Gertrude Granville, Laura Alberta, Katie Pell, and the old
California minstrel, “Jake” Wallace. With Miss Pell and Wallace he
appeared in the smaller towns of California
[Illustration:
From a rare old photograph. The Albert Davis Collection.
GERTRUDE GRANVILLE]
[Illustration:
From a photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
ANNIE PIXLEY AS _M’LISS_]
and Nevada, and he has afforded me the following interesting bit of
random recollection. “Wallace was held dear in every Western mining
camp. He was a banjoist, and when the miners heard him coming down the
road, singing the old ’49 songs, there used to be a general cry of ’Here
comes Wallace!’ and work would stop for the day. In ’The Girl of the
Golden West’ [1905] I introduced a character in memory of the ’Jake’
Wallace of long ago; I gave him the same name, made him sing the same
songs, and enter the poker-saloon to be greeted in the same old hearty
manner. When negotiations were under way between the great composer
Puccini and myself for ’The Girl of the Golden West’ to be set to music,
I took him to see a performance of the play. As we sat there, I could
feel no perceptible enthusiasm from him until _Jake Wallace_ came in,
singing his ’49 songs. ’Ah!’ exclaimed Puccini, ’_there_ is my theme at
last!’”
Of Mrs. Bates and her ill-fated husband he gives this reminiscence:
“Both Mrs. Bates and her husband were sterling actors [they were players
of respectable talent, well trained in the Old School--W.W.]. Mrs. Bates
was a slight little woman, full of romance and for the greater part of
our acquaintance much given to melancholy. I look back on her prime, and
I know of no actress who gave a more satisfactory interpretation of
_Camille_ than she did. Her _Marie Antoinette_ was also very impressive.
Mr. and Mrs. Bates soon left for Australia, but before they went, as a
token of friendship, I was given many manuscript plays and costumes
which the two would not need. Soon after Mr. Bates was mysteriously
murdered. Many months passed, and I heard that Mrs. Bates was again in
San Francisco, staying at the Occidental Hotel. So I called upon her. ’I
only have Blanche to live for now,’ she said, and while we sat there she
called for her little daughter to come to her. That was my first meeting
with my future star. Thereafter little Blanche was put to school, and I
went on the road with Mrs. Bates, playing _Armand Duval_ to her
_Camille_. Then I lost sight of her for some time until at last one day
I was walking with ’Jimmie’ Barrows, when he began to tell me of a
famous actress who was boarding at his house. ’Her name is Mrs. Bates,’
declared ’Jimmie,’ and when I went home with him I found my old friend
again. Blanche had pulled out, like a fast growing flower, blithesome
and gay; but her mother seemed to have parted with the last drop in the
cup of her happiness, and during our entire tour showed the nervous
strain she had experienced during the awful times in Australia. ’It is
so difficult for me to go back to the different theatres and tread the
stages we played on so often together,’ she would say. ’I seem to see
Frank’s face everywhere, in the shadows of the wings and out in the cold
empty spaces of the auditorium when we are rehearsing. I wonder who
struck him down.’
“I felt a great sympathy for her, and she and I became almost like
brother and sister. Never shall I forget those days and the long walks
we used to take under skies that held all the warmth and splendor of
southern Europe, along roads that wound their tree-embowered way through
the hills to the little monastery nestling above. At night we could hear
the ringing of far-away bells, and sometimes through the stilly air the
sound of voices was wafted to us across the silence. In this atmosphere
Mrs. Bates would sit and talk to me of the East, and I would dream
dreams of things to be. There was a popular song of the time in San
Francisco called ’Castles in the Air,’ and invariably our talks would
end with a laugh and by my humming that tune.
“It was Mrs. Bates’ ambition to see Blanche doing literary work; for she
did not want her to enter the theatrical profession, but later she said:
’I fear the child will go on the stage after all, and what is more, I
feel that she is going to have a future. Perhaps, who knows, some day
you may be able to do something for her,’ and I promised her that I
would, if luck ever came my way.”
Writing to me about other actors of that far-off time, Belasco has
mentioned: “I remember, with special pleasure and admiration, John E.
Owens, though I don’t remember that I ever acted with him. He produced a
play at the Bush Street Theatre [error: more probably at the
California?], the name of which I have forgotten, but it was all about
’a barrel o’ apple sass’ [strange that Belasco should have forgotten the
title,--“The People’s Lawyer,” sometimes billed as “Solon
Shingle,”--because he several times acted in it, with Herne and others],
and I was so impressed that I wrote a play for him, called ’The Yankee.’
Owens very kindly listened to my reading of it, but told me he had no
intention of putting aside a long tried success. However, he liked some
of the speeches in my piece and paid me $25 for them.”
“One of my most valued teachers,” he also writes, “was ’old man Thorne’
[Charles R. Thorne, Sr.]. I did much work for him as copyist, prompter,
etc., and attended to all sorts of details,--hiring of wigs, arms,
costumes, etc., for the minor parts and for supers in productions which
he put on,--so that often he used to say to me, ’My dear Davie, I don’t
know what I should do without you!’ Once, when Thorne produced ’King
Richard III.,’ in a tent, in Howard Street, I took part and fought a
sword combat with him on horseback. He was always very kind to me,
taught me much and gave me pieces of wardrobe, feathers, belts, swords,
&c. Another early favorite of mine was Mary Gladstane. I copied parts
and scripts for her, at the Metropolitan and elsewhere, and whenever she
played _Mary Warner_ in San Francisco I cried over her performance so
much that she was delighted and gave me a copy of the prompt book. There
were no streetcars in those days, and often I walked with her to and
from the theatre.”
Belasco was absent from San Francisco from about the middle of January,
1875, until the following May. A Miss Rogers, who had been a school
teacher, who is described as having been “very beautiful,” and who
became infected with ambition to shine as a dramatic luminary, obtained
sufficient financial support to undertake a starring tour and Belasco
was employed by her as an agent, stage manager, and actor. The tour
appears to have begun, auspiciously, in (Portland?), Oregon, and to have
been continued, with declining prosperity, in small towns along the Big
Bear and Little Bear rivers. The repertory presented comprised “East
Lynne,” “Camille,” “Frou-Frou,” etc., and “Robert Macaire.” “I always
liked to play _Macaire_,” Belasco has told me, “and whenever I got a
chance to make up a repertory I included that piece in it.” The tour
lasted as long as the financial support was continued: then the company
was ignominiously disbanded. Belasco and Miss Rogers, however, continued
to act together for several weeks, presenting a number of one-act
plays--such as “A Conjugal Lesson,” “A Happy Pair,” “Mr. and Mrs. Peter
White,” etc.,--which require only two performers. Belasco also gave
recitations. “One of my ’specialties,’” he has told me, “was ’The Antics
of a Clown,’ in which I gave imitations of opera singers and ballet
dancers--using a slack rope instead of a taut wire. I also gave
imitations of all the well-known actors, and I had a ’ventriloquist
act,’ with dummies. I made my own wigs and costumes and, altogether, I
worked pretty hard for a living!”
On February 15, 1875, Augustin Daly produced his authorized adaptation
of Gustav von Moser’s “Ultimo,” at the second Fifth Avenue Theatre, New
York, under the name--once known throughout our country--of “The Big
Bonanza.” Its success was instant and extraordinary. R. H. Hooley, of
Chicago, presently employed Bartley Campbell (1844-1888) to make another
version of that play,
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO AS _ROBERT MACAIRE_
_Strop._ Suppose he should _wake_?
_Macaire_. He _won’t_ wake!
Photograph by Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco.
Original loaned by Mrs. David Belasco.]
“specially localized and adapted for San Francisco.” Campbell fulfilled
his commission, passing several weeks in the Western metropolis in order
to provide “local atmosphere.” Belasco was still “barnstorming” when he
learned of the appearance of Hooley’s Comedy Company in San
Francisco,--May 10, at the Opera House, in Campbell’s “Peril; or, Love
at Long Branch,”--and he immediately ended his uncertain connection with
Miss Rogers in order to return home, so that he might witness the
performances of Hooley’s company and, if possible, become a member of
it. “I was much impressed by the reputation of ’Hooley’s Combination,’”
he writes in a note to me; “and I wanted particularly to see William H.
Crane and M. A. Kennedy. Crane’s big, wholesome method made a great
success, and the whole company was popular.” Belasco seems not to have
reached home until about the end of the second week of the Hooley
engagement: soon after that he contrived to obtain employment at the
Opera House as assistant prompter and to play what used to be styled
“small utility business.” His note to me continues: “Because I had
played many big parts, out of town, some of my theatrical friends
thought my willingness to do _any work_ that would give me valuable
experience was beneath my ’dignity’ and that I was thereby losing
’caste.’ I never saw it that way. ’Haven’t you any pride?’ they used to
say; and I used to answer ’No, I expect to be obliged to spend a certain
amount of time in the cellar before I’m allowed to walk into the
parlor!’” And in conversation with me on this subject he has said, “Why,
I would do _anything_ in those days, to learn or get a chance: I once
worked as a dresser for J. K. Emmet, because I couldn’t get into his
company any other way,--but it wasn’t long before I was playing parts
with him.”
In his “Story” Belasco mentions that Daly came to San Francisco at about
the same time as Hooley and that when the latter brought out “Ultimo,”
and Daly produced “The Big Bonanza,” “strange as it is to relate, the
productions were almost equally successful.” That is an error: Hooley’s
production was made on June 7 and, though distinctly inferior to
Daly’s,--made on July 19,--priority had its usual effect and the wind
was completely taken out of Daly’s sails: “The Big Bonanza” was acted in
San Francisco by Daly’s company less than half-a-dozen times, while
“Ultimo” was played for several weeks and also was several times
revived.
Belasco’s relation with the Hooley company lasted until July (11?), on
which date its season was ended at the Opera House,--a tour of Pacific
Slope towns beginning the next week. Belasco, remaining in San
Francisco, endeavored to attach himself to Daly’s company, but failed to
do so,--partly, it is probable, because of his intimate connection with
Maguire, who was both friendly to Hooley and inimical to Daly, whom he
had striven to exclude from San Francisco by refusing to rent him a
theatre. Daly, however, hired Platt’s Hall and, July 13, presented his
company there, in “London Assurance,” so successfully that Maguire
decided to withdraw his opposition and share the profits of success.
Daly’s company, accordingly, was transferred to the Opera House on July
15, making its first appearance there in “Divorce,” with Belasco as one
of the auditors.
During the remainder of 1875 Belasco labored in much the same desultory
and precarious way. When no other employment could be procured by him he
worked as a salesman in an outfitting shop. “One thing I did,” he
gleefully relates, “for which I was much looked down upon--whenever I
went into the country towns I peddled a ’patent medicine,’ as I called
it; a gargle made from a receipt of my mother’s, and it was a good one,
too; I know because I not only sold it but I _used_ it! And I coaxed all
my theatrical friends to use it and write testimonials for me.” His
chief business, However, when not regularly engaged in the theatres, was
the collection and compilation of a library of plays. Between 1875 and
1880 he prepared prompt books of almost every play that was successfully
produced in San Francisco--altering and rearranging many of them,--and
in frequent instances supplying them to travelling companies or stars.
His friend Mrs. Bates, speaking to me (1903) about him and about the
facility he developed as an adapter and playwright, said: “He was a
marvel! In ’the old days’ I have known a star to give Belasco an
_outline_ of a plot, with three or four situations, on a Thursday
night--and we _acted the play_ on the next Monday!”
Among dramatizations that he made in this year, or the next, are “Bleak
House,”--prompted by the success of Mme. Janauschek, who had presented a
version at the California Theatre, June 7,--“David Copperfield,” “Dombey
& Son,” “Struck Blind,” and “The New Magdalen.” The latter was a variant
of Le Roy’s version, which he made for his friend Ellie Wilton, and
which was first acted at the California on August 7, 1875. On the 27th
of that month “Lost in London” was acted at Maguire’s New Theatre,
according to a prompt book made by Belasco, and on the 30th Reade’s
“Dora” was brought out there,--“under my stage direction,” says Belasco,
and adds: “I also did some work on the [prompt] book, so as to make the
part of _Farmer Allen_ more suitable for James O’Neill.” On November 1
J. A. Sawtell made his first appearance in San Francisco, in one of
Murphy’s many revivals of “Maum Cre.” “I recall _that_ night,
perfectly,” writes Belasco, “because I then first met Sawtell, with whom
I afterward travelled in many capacities. When I produced ’The Girl of
the Golden West’ (1905), Sawtell asked me for an engagement--just so he
’could be doing something,’ as he put it--and I remember that he came up
to me on the stage one night and said: ‘“Davy,” I was a big star in
California and you were my boy assistant; now here you are with your own
theatre and I’m playing a small part in it! How did you do it?’”
About the end of November Belasco left Maguire’s employment and took a
place as assistant stage manager, prompter, and general helper under
Charles R. Thorne, Sr., who, on December 13, opened Thorne’s Palace
Theatre (it had previously been Wilson’s Amphitheatre), at the corner of
Montgomery and Market Streets, San Francisco. That engagement lasted for
about three weeks--Thorne closing his theatre on December 31, without
warning. Belasco’s delight in acquiring experience was gratified in this
venture, but it was not otherwise profitable to him, as Thorne was
unable to pay more than a small part of his salary. Besides discharging
his other duties Belasco acted, in this engagement, _Santo_, in
“Gaspardo; or, The Three Banished Men of Milan”; _Signor Meteo_, in “The
Miser’s Daughter,” and _Gilbert Gates_, in “The Dawn of Freedom.” “The
Fool’s Revenge,”--Thorne as _Bertuccio_ and Kate Denin as
_Fiordelisa_,--“The Forty Thieves,” “Who Killed Cock Robin?” and
“Faustus, a Romantic Spectacle,” were also produced, and, in one
capacity or another, Belasco took part in all those productions; but I
have not been able to find programmes. On January 7, 1876, the house was
reopened, as the Palace Theatre, under the management of Col. J. H.
Wood, presenting Frank Jones, in “The Black Hand; or, The Lost Will,” in
which Belasco performed as _Bob, a Policeman_. Jones’ engagement lasted
for about three weeks: thereafter Belasco drifted back into the
employment of Maguire.
BALDWIN’S ACADEMY AND BARRY SULLIVAN.
In 1876 Edward J. Baldwin, locally known as “Lucky Baldwin,” in a
business association with Thomas Maguire built a theatre in San
Francisco which was named Baldwin’s Academy of Music. Baldwin had been
an hostler, Maguire a cab-driver; both had prospered and become
wealthy--Baldwin to an astonishing degree. The theatre, which was
incorporated with an hotel, called the Baldwin, was built on land owned
by Maguire, at the corner of Market and Powell streets, and it was an
uncommonly spacious and commodious edifice. Baldwin and Maguire,
although associated in this enterprise, were not friends, and Belasco
has assured me that most of their business transactions were carried on
through him, as an intermediary. Baldwin’s Academy of Music was opened
March 6, 1876. Maguire was announced as “proprietor,” James A. Herne as
stage manager: Belasco, although not advertised as such, officiated as
assistant stage manager and prompter. The opening bill was “King Richard
III.,”--Cibber’s perversion of Shakespeare’s tragedy,--with the Irish
tragedian Barry Sullivan in the central character, supported by the
stock company from Maguire’s New Theatre. That company included, among
others, James A. Herne, Arthur D---- Billings, Louis James, Edward J----
Buckley, William Henry Crane, Michael A. Kennedy, Katie Mayhew, Emily
Baker, Louise Hawthorne, and Mrs. Belle Douglass. James F---- Cathcart
was specially engaged, to play _Richmond_, which part he acted till
March 10, when he was superseded by James O’Neill; he played various
other parts, however, during the engagement. Belasco played _Sir Richard
Ratcliff_. The engagement of Barry Sullivan lasted till April 16, the
plays presented, after “King Richard III.,” being “The Wonder,”
“Hamlet,” “Macbeth,” “The Gamester,” “King Lear,” “Othello,” “The
Merchant of Venice,” a version of “Don Cæsar de Bazan” called “A Match
for a King,” “A New Way to Pay Old Debts,” and “The Wife.” In all of
those plays Belasco participated, acting small parts, which are named in
the schedule of his repertory given later in this work. On April 18 Mrs.
James A---- Oates and her “Grand Opera Company” succeeded Sullivan, at
Baldwin’s Academy, in “Mme. l’Archiduc,” while Maguire’s stock company
returned to Maguire’s New Theatre, where some of its members, including
Belasco, appeared, in support of Messrs. Baker and Farron, in a trivial
play called “Heinrich and Hettie.” Belasco, who had profited by his
association with Barry Sullivan,--an actor of exceptional ability and
wide experience, and, though rough in method and sometimes violently
vehement in delivery, a master of his vocation,--and had been so
fortunate as to please that austere martinet, provides, in his “Story,”
this interesting glimpse of him:
“To my mind the most difficult rôles (_sic!_) were the officers and
flying messengers in the Shakespearean plays, when cast with some
famous tragedian. All young actors appreciated this, and, knowing
Sullivan’s temperament, were very loath to subject themselves to
his rough handling. It so happened that I was selected to play
these flying messengers and recite the tricky speeches, but no more
than the others did I escape. One day I suddenly found myself held
high in air, and my descent was equally rapid. I was laid up for
several nights. As a reward he cast me to play _Francis_, in ’The
Stranger,’ but because of the objections of James and Buckley, each
of whom claimed the part, it was never played. I had the advantage
of private rehearsals, however, with this great tragedian in his
room at the Baldwin Hotel.... The reason why he liked me, he said,
was that, with my pale face and blue-black hair, I reminded him of
a little priest who had been a chum of his in Ireland. When he
left, he gave me a much-prized feather, such as actors usually wore
when they played _Malcolm_ or _Macbeth_. ’I shall probably never
see you again,’ he said, ’and it may help you to remember me with
kindly feelings. It belonged to the girl I loved best in the
world.’”
After his engagement with Baker and Farron Belasco went “barnstorming”
in various California and Nevada towns and camps, but returned to San
Francisco at intervals, sometimes remaining there a few days, while
seeking employment,--working, meanwhile, on dramatic versions of various
books or stories or on the revision and alteration of old
plays,--sometimes acting small parts at any of the theatres or serving
as a super when no better occupation was obtainable. On May 4, in that
city, he participated in a performance at Maguire’s New Theatre for the
benefit of M. A. Kennedy, when the bill included “One Thousand
Milliners,” “Robert Macaire,” and the burlesque of “Kenilworth,”--in
which latter play he had often acted _Queen Elizabeth_, as I have reason
to think he did on this occasion. He seems, also, to have taken part, in
a minor capacity, in at least one of the performances given in May,
1876, at the California Theatre, by Edwin Adams, who played _Rover_, in
“Wild Oats,” and he saw that fine actor as _Enoch Arden_, if he did not
act with him in the play about that character. He also saw, May 29,
1876, at Wade’s Opera House, San Francisco, George Rignold’s first
performance in San Francisco of _King Henry the Fifth_,--a remarkably
pictorial, spirited, fervent, and stirring impersonation.
Rignold had been brought to America by Jarrett & Palmer, under an
arrangement with Charles Calvert, of Manchester, England, and he made
his first appearance in this country, February 6, 1875, at Booth’s
Theatre,--then under the direction of those managers,--acting _King
Henry the Fifth_. Shakespeare’s play, which was withdrawn at Booth’s
April 24, 1875, was revived there, April 10, 1876, and ran for five
weeks. Some dissension arose between Rignold and Jarrett & Palmer, and
those managers arranged for the presentment of the Shakespearean
historical drama and pageant (Calvert’s setting) in San Francisco, at
the California Theatre, where, on June 5, it was brought out, with
Lawrence Barrett as _King Henry_. Jarrett & Palmer conveyed their
production and members of the theatrical company across the continent on
board a special train, which left Jersey City at 1.30 A. M., June 1, and
arrived at the mole, Oakland, California, at 9.22 A. M., June 4,--having
made the journey in eighty-three hours, thirty-nine minutes, sixteen
seconds. Rignold, when acting in the Western metropolis, preparatory to
returning to England by way of Australia, was under the management of
Frederick W. Bert. Belasco closely studied both those Shakespeare
productions and the acting with which they were illustrated, thereby
adding materially to his knowledge of the good traditions of
Shakespearean interpretation. No more scrupulous and competent stage
director than Lawrence Barrett ever lived, while Rignold had been
carefully trained by Calvert, one of the best of stage managers and
Shakespearean actors,--and had enjoyed the advantage of seeing Calvert
play the part when first he revived the history, at Manchester. Belasco
himself never set a finer spectacle on the stage than Calvert’s
presentment of “King Henry V.”
During June, like Asmodeus, he flamed in many places, generally
appearing for only a single performance. By July 15, 1876, he was at
home again, and as prompter and stage manager, and sometimes as super or
actor of small parts, was employed at Baldwin’s Academy of Music during
an engagement there of George Fawcett Rowe, who, on that date, began, as
_Waifton Stray_, in his play of “Brass,” and acted, in succession,
_Micawber_, in “Little Em’ly,” and _Hawkeye_, in “Leatherstocking,” also
one of his dramas. On July 23, Sunday night, Belasco appeared, as
_DeWilt_, in a performance, for the benefit of E. J. Buckley, given “by
John McCullough and members of the Dramatic Profession,” at the
California Theatre. The play was Augustin Daly’s “Under the Gas-Light.”
McCullough and Barton Hill recited, and McCullough performed as _Julian
St. Pierre_, in the Dagger Scene, from “The Wife.” On August 14 Eleanor
Carey made her first appearance in San Francisco, acting _Miss Gwilt_,
in a dramatization of Wilkie Collins’ “Armadale,” and Belasco, then
meeting her, formed an acquaintance which, eventually, was valuable to
him: he made a play for Miss Carey, on the basis of “Article 47,”
calling it “The Creole,” which was acted at the Union Square Theatre,
New York, January 17, 1881, and in which she was seen in many cities.
WITH BOOTH AT THE CALIFORNIA.
The period of about two and a half years, from August, 1876, to
February, 1879, was one of incessant activity for Belasco: in it he
underwent much toil and acquired much knowledge which served to develop
his faculties and tended to equip him for the many-sided labor of his
later life. At first, his progress in that period was slow; but it is
not daily exercise, it is the total effect of long persistence in it,
that develops, and scrutiny of the register of Belasco’s experience in
those years exhibits various events of signal significance and many
incidents of interest which require mention and comment. One of the
latter, which he recalls with special pleasure, was his meeting with
Edwin Booth. That great actor, whose professional novitiate was served
in San Francisco,--chiefly at the old Metropolitan Theatre,--from 1852
to 1856, left there in September, 1856, and did not again visit the West
for exactly twenty years. On September 4, 1876, at the California
Theatre, acting _Hamlet_, he began an engagement which lasted for eight
weeks, in the course of which he was seen, in succession, as
_Richelieu_, _Iago_, _Othello_, _King Richard the Second_, _King Lear_,
_Bertuccio_, in “The Fool’s Revenge”; _Shylock_, _Pescara_, in “The
Apostate”; _Marc Antony_, _Cassius_, and _Brutus_, in “Julius Cæsar”;
_King Richard the Third_, _Mr. Haller_, in “The Stranger”; _Lucius
Brutus_, in “The Fall of Tarquin,” and _Claude Melnotte_. Belasco was
intensely eager to see and study the acting of Booth--surely the
greatest tragic genius that has graced our Stage and a consummate
executant in art--and he sought to obtain an engagement at the
California Theatre to play the same “line of parts” (as the phrase goes
among old stock company actors) which he had performed in the preceding
Spring with Barry Sullivan. Though he failed in that effort--and was
keenly disappointed thereby--he was not to be balked in his purpose, and
got himself employed, during the Booth engagement, as a super. “I could
not give _every_ night to such work,” he has told me; “but I ’walked on’
with him, at least once, in every play he did,--and in ’Hamlet,’
’Richelieu,’ and ’Julius Cæsar’ I think I went on at every performance.
In ’Cæsar’ when Booth played _Cassius_ McCullough was the _Brutus_ and
Thomas W. Keene the
[Illustration:
EDWIN BOOTH AS _HAMLET_
“_There’s something in his soul_
_O’er which his melancholy sits on brood._”
--Act III, sc. 1
Photograph by Sarony. Authors’s Collection.]
_Antony_; when Booth played _Brutus_ McCullough was _Cassius_; when
Booth was _Antony_ Keene was _Cassius_ and McCullough went back to
_Brutus_. We used to wish we had Lawrence Barrett there for
_Cassius_--but ’Tom’ Keene was a fine actor in his way, and I shall
never forget those performances of ’Cæesar,’ nor those of ’Othello,’ in
which Booth and McCullough alternated as _Othello_ and _Iago_. Booth was
my _great_ idol; the one actor who, for me, could surpass McCullough,
Barrett, and Montgomery. I found him very uneven--that is, his
performances were not always up to his own standard. But, when he was
really ’in the vein,’ there was _nobody_ like him; there never has been,
and there never will be! I never heard such a voice,--so full of fire,
feeling, and power,--and I never saw such eyes as Booth’s, when he
played _King Richard the Third_, _Richelieu_, or _Iago_. At first I used
to go to the California to watch his rehearsals, but I soon found out it
was little use. The plays were all an old story to him and he wouldn’t
rehearse. McCullough had Booth’s prompt books, and Booth left the
company pretty much to him and just ’ran through’ the big scenes with
the principals. He was very gentle, considerate, and kind to everybody,
but he seldom said much unless spoken to. I valued my acquaintance with
him greatly; I never missed an opportunity to see him, and I cherish
his memory as that of one of the best of men and greatest of actors.”
Belasco’s enthusiasm for Booth has led him, in recent years, to make an
extensive collection of precious stage relics associated with that
sombre genius: visitors to the reception room on the stage of the
Belasco Theatre will find the “star’s” dressing room, which opens off
it, indicated by a star of brilliants which was worn, first, by William
Charles Macready as _Hamlet_, and, afterward, by Booth, in the same
part. There, also, are displayed Booth’s _Brutus_ sandals and sword, his
_Macbeth_ spear, his _Bertuccio_ bauble, the mace carried by him when
acting _King Richard the Third_, the sceptre he used as _King Lear_, the
hat he wore as _Petruchio_, his _Shylock_ knife and scales, and his
make-up box.
During October of 1876 Belasco worked for a short while with James W.
Ward and Winnetta Montague (he appeared with them at the Grand Opera
House, October 16, in “The Willing Hand”), as stage manager and as
adapter and rectifier of several plays. On Sunday, October 22, he
participated in a benefit for Katie Mayhew given at Baldwin’s Theatre,
appearing as _Doctor of the Hospital_, in “The Two Orphans.” Soon after
that, declining a minor position in a new company, headed by Eleanor
Carey and organized for “a grand re-opening of the Grand Opera House”
(effected November 13, with “Wanted, a Divorce”), he joined a travelling
company, at Olympia, Washington, headed by Fanny Morgan Phelps, and for
about three months resumed the precarious life of a strolling player.
BELASCO AND “THE EGYPTIAN MYSTERY.”
By about the beginning of February, 1877, Belasco was once more in San
Francisco, and immediately allied himself, as playwright, stage manager,
and actor, with Frank Gardner and his wife, Caroline Swain.
Gardner,--who afterward turned his attention to gold mining in Australia
and acquired great wealth,--had associated with himself a person
familiar with the famous “Pepper’s Ghost” illusion, and together they
had devised a variant of that contrivance which was utilized in giving
theatrical performances. Belasco, describing it, writes: “There was a
stage, covered with black velvet, and a sheet of glass, placed obliquely
over a space beneath the stage,--which was called the ’oven.’ Gas lamps
were ingeniously concealed so as to give the impression of a
phosphorescent light from ghostlike bodies. The characters in the play
were obliged to enter the ’oven’ under the black velvet, and to lie on
their backs, while their misty shadows were thrown like watery
impressions upon the glass plate. As these shadows floated across the
surface of the glass, the people in the ’oven’ could easily shake tables
and move chairs to the hair-raising satisfaction of the audience.”
Belasco appeared with the Gardners, at Egyptian Hall (No. 22 Geary
Street, near Kearny), on February 16, as _The Destroyer_, in “The
Haunted House”; _Valentine_, in an epitome of the “Faust” story
(introducing the Duel Scene between _Faust_ and _Valentine_), and _Mr.
Trimeo_, in “The Mysterious Inn.” On the next night he performed as
_Avica, Spirit of Avarice_, in “A Storm of Thoughts,” and _Phil
Bouncer_, in “The Persecuted Traveller,” as well as in “The Haunted
House.” On February 20 he personated _Our Guest_, in “Our Mysterious
Boarding House,” and on April 2, _Mark_, in “The Prodigal’s Return.”
Belasco wrote all those plays, specially for use in Gardner’s “Egyptian
Mystery,”--as the entertainment was called,--and at least two
others,--“Wine, Women, and Cards,” and “The Christmas Night; or, The
Convict’s Return.” I have not found casts of the last named two, or
record of the dates on which they were first produced. Belasco, besides
playing the parts as above enumerated,
[Illustration:
From the Albert Davis Collection.
A playbill of “The Egyptian Mystery,” at Egyptian Hall, San Francisco,
1877. Belasco wrote all the plays named and recited “Little Jim.” He
was, also, actually the stage manager.]
also gave various recitations at Egyptian Hall, with musical
accompaniments,--among them his favorite “The Maniac,” “The Maiden’s
Prayer,” and “Little Jim, the Collier’s Lad.” Recalling his alliance
with Gardner, he writes the following bit of informative reminiscence:
“Our ’Mystery’ attracted much attention. ’Egyptian Hall,’ if I remember
correctly, had been a shop and was fitted up for our ’show’ by Gardner.
I remember that the _Faust_ and _Valentine_ Duel Scene made a great
sensation, because my sword seemed to go _right through_ the body of
_Faust_. And the recitations were very effective, too. When I gave
’Little Jim’ spirits seemed to float here and there, illustrating the
sentiments of the lines. Our little theatre was packed night after
night, and before the end of the engagement I was obliged to write about
eight pieces for Gardner. I have often been asked if this was my first
endeavor to experiment with stage lights. It was not. Some time before I
had been working with locomotive headlights, and I had discovered the
ease with which I could get certain effects by placing tin pans before
oil lamps. Then it occurred to me that by means of colored silks,--my
own forerunner of gelatine slides,--I could add further variations to
colored lights, and it was after this experience that I began to pay
particular attention to the charm of stage lighting and to the
inventions which, since then, have been so wonderfully developed.”
A REMINISCENCE OF HELENA MODJESKA.
The engagement at Egyptian Hall lasted until the middle of April; then
Belasco travelled with the Gardners and their “Mystery,” presenting the
entertainments above mentioned and variations of them, until the end of
July. From August to about October he appears to have been connected
with the California Theatre: on August 18 he appeared there, in a
performance given for the benefit of A. D. Billings, as _John O’Bibs_,
in Boucicault’s “The Long Strike” (billed on that occasion as “The Great
Strike”), and as the _Earl of Oxford_, in the Fifth Act of “King Richard
III.” At this time, also, he witnessed the first appearance (August 20,
1877) on the American Stage of that lovely actress and still more lovely
woman,--the gentle, beautiful, and ever lamented Helena Modjeska. She
had gone to California, 1876, as one of a party of eight persons, Polish
emigrants, who attempted to form a colony there, somewhat on the model
of the Brook Farm movement. That attempt failing, Modjeska was compelled
to turn again to the Stage,--in Poland she had been among the leaders
of the dramatic profession,--and after much difficulty she finally
obtained, through the interest of Governor Salomon of California, a
trial hearing by Barton Hill, stage manager for McCullough, at the
California Theatre.
* * * * *
[The following brief but interesting account of Modjeska’s trial
has been published, elsewhere, by my father.--J. W.]
Hill had little if any knowledge of the foreign Stage, and he knew
nothing of Modjeska’s ability and reputation. Her rare personal beauty,
distinction, self-confidence, and persistence finally won from him a
reluctant promise of a private hearing. That promise, after interposing
several delays, he fulfilled, and Modjeska’s story, as she told it to
me, of her first rehearsal at the California Theatre was piquant and
comic. Hill was a worthy man and a good actor. It was, no doubt, natural
and right that, in dealing with a stranger applicant for theatrical
employment, he should have exercised the functions of his position, but
there will always be something ludicrous in the thought of Barton Hill
sitting in judgment on Helena Modjeska. “He was very kind--Meester
Hill,” said the actress; “but he was ne-ervous and fussy, and he
patronized me as though I were a leetle child. ’Now,’ he said, ’I shall
be very criti-cal--ve-ery _severe_.’ I could be patient no longer: ’Be
as criti-cal and severe as you like,’ I burst out, ’only do, please, _be
quiet_, and let us begin!’ He was so surprised he could not speak, and I
began at once a scene from ’Adrienne.’ I played it through and then
turned to him. He had his handkerchief in his hand and was crying. He
came and shook hands with me and tried to seem quite calm. ’Well,’ I
asked, ’may I have the evening that I want?’ ’I’ll give you a week, and
more, if I can,’ he answered.”
* * * * *
Before Hill’s approval of Modjeska was ratified she was required to give
another “trial rehearsal,” at which McCullough and various other persons
were present, and it was Belasco’s privilege to be among them. “I don’t
believe she was called Modjeska in those days,” he writes [her name was
Modrzejewska--she shortened it to Modjeska at the suggestion of
McCullough]; “but she had within her all the charm and power that
afterward became associated with her name. I was in the auditorium the
day she gave her first rehearsal [error--the second], and scattered here
and there were a few critics. A mere handful came, for there was no
general interest in one who was expected to have a gawky manner and a
baffling accent. The unexpected happened; those of us who heard her
were literally stunned by the power and pathos of this woman. McCullough
promised her a production and not long afterward she played ’Adrienne
Lecouvreur.’ When the performance was over, Mr. Barnes, of ’The San
Francisco Call,’ the other critics, and all of us knew that we had been
listening to one of the world’s great artists. ’It is the greatest piece
of work in our day!’ was the general verdict. McCullough was wild with
enthusiasm. She played her repertory in San Francisco, and society took
her into its arms.”
STROLLING _AD INTERIM_.--BELASCO AS “THE FIRST OLD WOMAN.”
In September, 1877, during “Fair Week,”--24th to 29th,--Belasco was
stage manager of a company from the California Theatre, headed by Thomas
W. Keene, which performed at the Petaluma Theatre, in the California
town of the same name, in “The Lady of Lyons,” “The Young Widow,” “The
Hidden Hand” (Belasco’s version), “Robert Macaire,” “The Wife,” “My Turn
Next,” “The Streets of New York,” “The Rough Diamond,” “Deborah,” and
“The People’s Lawyer.” Belasco, besides directing the stage, acted in
those plays, respectively, as _Monsieur Deschapelles_, _Mandeville_,
_Craven Lenoir_, _Pierre_, _Lorenzo_, _Tom Bolus_, _Dan_, _Captain
Blenham_, _Peter_, and _Lawyer Tripper_.
Soon after that he joined a company, under the management of Frank I.
Frayne, known as the “Frayne Troupe,” of which M. B. Curtis, “Harry” M.
Brown, E. N. Thayer, Mrs. “Harry” Courtaine, Gertrude Granville, and
Miss Fletcher were also members. He joined that company at Humboldt,
Oregon, where the opening bill was “The Ticket-of-Leave Man.” Belasco
was to play _Melter Moss_, but the actress who was cast for _Mrs.
Willoughby_ becoming ill, Belasco (who knew all the other parts as well
as his own) volunteered to take her place in that character and did so
with such success that Frayne kept him in it: “I was scheduled to play
all the first ’old women’ that season,” he writes to me, “and I found it
for some time difficult to escape my new ’specialty.’”
A SUBSTANTIAL TRIBUTE.
Belasco left the “Frayne Troupe” about the end of January, 1878, and
returned to San Francisco. There I trace him first at the Bush Street
Theatre,--where he performed as _James Callin_ and as _Pablo_, in the
prologue and drama of “Across the Continent,” then first presented, by
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Author’s Collection.
HELENA MODJESKA
Soon after her first appearance in New York, 1877]
Oliver Doud Byron, in San Francisco,--and, a little later, back again at
the Baldwin Theatre. He labored there, with short intermissions, as
actor and stage manager, from March 26, 1878, to the latter part of
September, 1879. On the former date the New York Union Square Theatre
Company emerged at the Baldwin in “Agnes,” in which Belasco played
_Rudolphe_. During the engagement of the Union Square Company “One
Hundred Years Old,” “Saratoga,” “A Celebrated Case,” and Joaquin
Miller’s “The Danites” were presented under Belasco’s direction, and, in
each of them, he acted a subsidiary part. His services as director
proved so valuable that when the engagement was ended and the company
made a tour of Pacific Slope towns an arrangement was effected with
Maguire whereby Belasco accompanied it. The tour lasted until the end of
May, and it was followed by a brief return season in San Francisco. At
its close the company, which included O’Neill, Charles B. Bishop, Rose
Wood, and F. F. Mackay, presented to Belasco a purse of $200 in gold “as
an expression of appreciation of his services and esteem for himself.”
The presentation was made, in presence of the assembled company, on the
stage of the Baldwin Theatre, by F. F. Mackay, who, in making it, read
the following letter:
(_F. F. Mackay, for the New York Union Square Theatrical
Company, to David Belasco._)
“DEAR MR. DAVID BELASCO:--
“In behalf of the members of the Union Square Company, I extend
sincere thanks for your unvarying courtesy and for your able
direction of our efforts. With our thanks are mingled a large
measure of congratulations for your ability. Your quick
apprehension and remarkable analytical ability in discovering and
describing the mental intentions of an author are so superior to
anything we have heretofore experienced that we feel sure that the
position of master dramatic director of the American Stage must
finally fall on you. Personally, I take great pleasure in thus
expressing the feelings and the wishes of the company, and have the
honor to subscribe myself,
“Yours truly,
“F. F. MACKAY.”
“OLIVIA” AND “PROOF POSITIVE.”
On July 8 a revival was effected at the Baldwin of Boucicault’s “The
Octoroon,” “re-touched and re-arranged” by Belasco. This, and a double
bill, comprising Byron’s “Dearer Than Life” and “The Post of
Honor,”--brought out on August 5,--filled the summer season, and on
September 2 Belasco’s play in five acts entitled “Olivia,”--the first
dramatization of Goldsmith’s “The Vicar of Wakefield” to be acted in
California,--was produced with the following notable cast:
_Dr. Primrose_ A. D. Bradley.
_Squire Thornhill_ Lewis Morrison.
_Mr. Burchell_ James O’Neill.
_Moses_ William Seymour.
_George_ Forrest Robinson.
_Jenkinson_ C. B. Bishop.
_Olivia_ Rose Wood.
_Sophia_ Jean Burnside.
_Mrs. Primrose_ Mrs. Farren.
_Arabella Wilmot_ Belle Chapman.
Belasco’s dramatic epitome adhered to Goldsmith’s story as closely as is
feasible for stage purposes; it was an effective play, it was admirably
set upon the stage and acted, and it gained substantial success. “Those
were strenuous times for me,” he writes; “every one was thrusting duties
on me then which, as I was always a glutton for work, I grasped as
opportunities. One lesson I learned at the Baldwin which I have never
forgotten--that one of the greatest mistakes a man can make is the
mistake of permitting anybody else to do his work for him. I wrote
’Olivia’ between times, as it were, and I was genuinely surprised by its
success.”
After the run of “Olivia” J. C. Williamson and his wife, “Maggie” Moore,
came to the Baldwin,--opening in “Struck Oil,”--and Belasco, while
directing the stage for them, completed an alteration of Wills’ “A Woman
of the People,”--which was brought forth October 14,--and a play, made
at the request of Rose Wood, which he called “Proof Positive,” based on
an old melodrama. This was produced on October 28, and in it James
O’Neill gained a notable success in the character of an eccentric,
semi-comic _Jew_.
BELASCO’S VERSION OF “NOT GUILTY.”
Clara Morris made her first appearance in San Francisco at the Baldwin,
November 4, as _Miss Multon_, and continued to act there for about eight
weeks. During that time Belasco was able to bestow some attention and
labor on an original play of his called “The Lone Pine,” in which he had
acted at Sacramento and a few other “interior places” during a brief
starring venture, and which he desired entirely to rewrite. In December,
however, he was compelled to lay aside that work and turn again to hack
playwrighting for the Baldwin company. His election fell on Watts
Phillips’ old spectacle play of “Not Guilty,” which he altered and
adapted in less than one week. It was announced as “The Grand Production
of the Magnificent Musical, Military, Dramatic, and Spectacular (_sic_)
Christmas Piece, which has been given for eight successive Christmas
seasons in Philadelphia,” and it was produced for the first time at the
Baldwin on December 24, 1878. This was the cast:
_Robert Arnold_ James O’Neill.
_Silas Jarrett_ Lewis Morrison.
_Jack Snipe_ C. B. Bishop.
_Isaac Vider_ J. W. Jennings.
_Joe Triggs_ James A. Herne.
_Trumble_ A. D. Bradley.
_St. Clair_ Forrest Robinson.
_Lal Singh_ William Seymour.
_Sergeant Wattles_ John N. Long.
_Polecat_ King Hedley.
_Alice Armitage_ Rose Wood.
_Polly Dobbs_ May Hart.
All the work of adaptation and stage management was done by Belasco--and
for it he received the munificent payment of $12.50 a performance.
Recalling the production, he writes: “A ’stock dramatist’ at that time
was obliged to do his work on short notice, and it was taken as a matter
of course that I should get a play ready for rehearsal in less than a
week, and put it on in less than another week. ’Not Guilty’ was very
spectacular (_sic_), and with my customary leaning to warfare I
introduced a Battle Scene, with several hundred people in an
embarkation, as well as horses and cannon. This embarkation alone used
to take ten minutes. It has all been done in many plays since--the
booming of guns, the padding of the horses’ hoofs on earth and stone,
the moving crowds in sight and larger ones suggested, beyond the range
of vision,--but this was the original, and it was wonderfully effective,
if I do say it myself.” Belasco’s view agrees with that recorded by all
competent observers of the time--one of the most conservative of whom
wrote, in “The San Francisco Evening Bulletin,” that “the Battle Scene,
in the Fourth Act, was about the most realistic ever produced on the
stage.” An operatic chorus of more than eighty voices was employed and
“The Cameron Cadets”--a local military organization--participated “in
full Highland costume.”
WITHDRAWAL FROM THE BALDWIN.--“THE LONE PINE” AND DENMAN THOMPSON.
Belasco withdrew from the Baldwin Theatre company immediately after the
“run” of “Not Guilty.” He was in danger of becoming exhausted by
over-work and he was resentful of mean treatment to which he had been
subjected. Lewis Morrison, who had suggested Phillips’ old spectacle for
alteration, and Frederick Lyster, who had caused the introduction in it
of music selected from the opera of “Carmen,” by connivance with
Maguire, charged a “royalty” of twelve per cent. against the gross
receipts from representations of that play, although Belasco was paid
for his service only about one per cent. This injustice, coming to the
knowledge of Baldwin, greatly incensed him, and in order to remedy it he
gave to Belasco $1,000. With that sum added to his savings he felt at
liberty to desist for a time from the exacting requirements of
employment under Maguire, but in about two months he had resumed his old
position, going back at the earnest request of Herne. In his “Story” he
gives the following account of his experience in the interim:
“J. M. Hill, the pioneer of page advertising, brought Denman
Thompson to the Bush Street Theatre in ’Joshua Whitcomb,’ startling
San Francisco by a lavish press work, which had never been heard of
before. ’Young man,’ Hill said to me, ’I want you to see Thompson,
and to study him. If you find him a play, there may be a fortune in
it for you.’ When I met Thompson afterwards and he suggested that
we collaborate, I told him that such a proposition was quite
impossible, but that I had been working on a play not yet finished,
[“The Lone Pine”] and that I would send it to him. I told him and
Hill the gist of the story, and then and there the latter drew up a
contract, giving me a retainer of $1,000 and tempting me with the
proposition that were the piece a success I might get eight hundred
a week out of it. In due course of time I completed two acts and
sent them on to him in New York. Soon I received a message: ’We
like your manuscript. Bring acts three and four yourself. Railroad
fares arranged.’ When I reached New York I went to the Union Square
Hotel and there met Hill and Thompson again. It was like giving a
part of myself when I handed over the Third Act of ’The Lone Pine.’
To my dismay, Thompson began to give suggestions, explaining what
he intended to do, making of his part a youthful _Joshua Whitcomb_,
with a fine sprinkling of slang and curses, and although I knew
that if I could give this man a successful play I could make a
fortune--thirty-two hundred a month, perhaps more!--I could not
bring myself to do it. I went to my hotel and wrote Hill a letter,
explaining the conclusion I had come to, and returning the thousand
dollars retaining fee. But Hill would hear none of this and grew
very angry trying to make me see Thompson’s point of view and
sending back the retainer. To avoid any further discussion, I
boarded a train and left New York, having seen very little of the
city. Hill’s parting message was: ’If I don’t produce that play, no
one shall.’ They never returned my manuscript, and years after,
when I was stage-manager at the Madison Square, I thought that it
would be a fitting successor to my ’May Blossom,’ which I had just
produced. So I went to Dr. Mallory and told him of the
Thompson-Hill episode. He had a streak of the fighter in him, and
suggested that I sue Hill for the recovery of the manuscript. After
some preliminary proceedings we were persuaded that Hill had
actually lost the manuscript, even though he still refused to
release me from my contract. So the suit was withdrawn, for there
was nothing to go upon.
“During the days when Hill was manager of the New York Standard
Theatre we met again, and I did some work for him. It was then that
he returned me my contract. Then, a miracle of miracles happened,
at the time of the razing of the Union Square Hotel. The clerk sent
for Mr. Ryan (who afterwards played in ’Naughty Anthony’), and told
him that in one of the back rooms he had found a bundle of papers
behind some old books. My lost manuscript was at last found! Some
day I may finish it for David Warfield.”
“WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE.”
Belasco was re-employed by Maguire during the first days of February,
1879, and he at once resumed his multiform labor as stage manager,
prompter, and playwright. The Baldwin Theatre was profitably occupied by
the Wilson, Primrose & West Minstrel Company and his first work was done
at the Grand Opera House, which Maguire had leased, and where, February
17, “the legitimate company from Baldwin’s” appeared in Belasco’s
dramatization of Gaboriau’s story of “Within an Inch of His Life.” This
melodrama, advertised as “the most powerful play ever acted,” was the
product of “a week of strenuous days and sleepless nights,” it was
produced as a stopgap, and--so Belasco writes--“the makeshift, like so
many accidental productions, was an instant success.” That success was,
in large part, due to a striking mechanical effect, devised and
introduced by Belasco, representative of a conflagration, described in
the newspapers of the day as “the terrific fire spectacle,” about which
its inventor has given me this information: “The fire was in the First
Act. I did away with the lycopodium boxes and made my ’flames’ by a
series of red and yellow strips of silk, fanned from beneath by bellows
and lit by colored lights. Some complaint was made of danger to the
theatre and the authorities came upon the stage to investigate: they
were a good deal nonplussed at finding the ’fire’ nothing but pieces of
silk!”
“Within an Inch of His Life” was acted at the Grand Opera House until
March 1, when it was withdrawn to make way for “The Passion.” This was
the cast of its original production:
_Jules de Dardeville_ James O’Neill.
_Dr. Seignebos_ J. W. Jennings.
_Count de Clairnot_ James A. Herne.
_Falpin_ A. D. Bradley.
_Reibolt_ William Seymour.
_Gauchey_ John N. Long.
_Cocolean_ Lewis Morrison.
_Countess de Clairnot_ Rose Wood.
_Dionysia Chandore_ Katherine Corcoran.
SALMI MORSE’S “PASSION PLAY.”
At about the beginning of February, 1879, the popular and distinguished
actor James O’Neill, now long famous for his performance of _Monte
Cristo_, became enthusiastically interested in a spectacle drama by
Salmi Morse (1826-1884), called “The Passion Play,” the presentment of
which that author had long been earnestly but vainly endeavoring to
effect, in San Francisco. O’Neill was desirous of impersonating _Jesus
Christ_, a part to which he considered himself peculiarly fitted, and he
presently succeeded in persuading Maguire, the manager, to produce
Morse’s drama. Baldwin was induced to provide financial support for the
enterprise. Belasco was engaged as stage manager, after the preliminary
rehearsals had been conducted under direction of Henry Brown, who
officiated as prompter. Elaborate and handsome scenery was built and
painted. Henry Widmer (1845-1895), in after years long associated with
Daly’s Theatre in New York, was employed as leader of the orchestra, and
illustrative incidental music for the play was composed by him. Belasco
rehearsed the company and superintended the stage. The first
representation occurred on March 3, 1879, at the Grand Opera House, and
it caused much public interest and controversy. O’Neill’s impersonation
of _Jesus_ was fervently admired. Belasco, commenting on it and on its
effect on “the poor people” whom he “saw on their knees, praying and
sobbing,” wrote that the actor, “with his delicacy, refinement, and
grandeur, typified the real Prophet, and, I believe, to himself he _was_
the Prophet.”
NOT THE OBERAMMERGAU DRAMA.
Morse’s play was not the fabric customarily offered at Oberammergau, nor
was it in any particular an imitation. In the declared opinion of Morse,
an apostate Hebrew, that concoction had been devised and performed for
the purpose of arousing and stimulating hostility against the Jews, and
he profoundly disapproved of it. His purpose, he avowed, was simply to
present an epitome of the life of Jesus, as described in the gospels. He
had taken the thrifty precaution to read his play before an assemblage
of the Roman Catholic clergy of San Francisco (the Protestant
ecclesiastics not accepting his liberal invitation to enjoy that
luxury), and it had received their approbation. Several of the holy
fathers, indeed, had evinced their approval of it by kissing him on both
his cheeks, and Archbishop Allemany, of San Francisco, had not only
sanctioned the precious composition but had inserted several passages
into the text with his own sacerdotal hand. The play was comprised in
ten acts (at least, that was its form when, in 1880, in the vestibule of
the Park Theatre, Broadway and Twenty-second Street, New York, I heard
half of it read by the author and was permitted to inspect the whole
manuscript), and it consisted of a long series of dialogues accompanied
by pictures and tableaux. I know not whether the whole ten acts were
vouchsafed to the San Francisco audience, but, according to
contemporaneous records, the play gave much offence to many persons and
was incentive to some public disturbances and breaches of the peace:
ignorant Irish who witnessed it were so distempered that, on going
forth, some of them, from time to time, assaulted peaceable Jews in the
public streets--much in the spirit of the irate mariner who chanced to
hear first of the Crucifixion nearly 2,000 years after it occurred.
Belasco records that a committee of citizens called on Maguire and
“worked upon his credulous nature until he believed that he was marked
by the devil for sacrifice and would meet with instant death if he did
not withdraw the play,” and that “in a fever of fear he closed the
theatre,”--March 11. A little later, however, Maguire’s torrid
temperature appears to have abated, and the play was again brought
forward, April 15, at the Grand Opera House, but this time it was met by
an injunction, issued from the Fourth (Municipal) District Court, Judge
Robert Francis Morrison presiding, which, being disregarded, was
followed by the arrest of O’Neill (who was imprisoned), April 21, and
of his professional associates, all of them, subsequently, being
convicted of contempt of court and fined for that offence,--O’Neill $50
and each of the other players $5. Belasco escaped arrest through the
kindly interference of the local Sheriff, a friend of his, who forcibly
kept him away from the theatre when the other participants in the
representation were being taken into police custody. The following
notice appeared in “The Alta California,” April 22, 1879:
“GRAND OPERA HOUSE.--The management has the honor to announce that
in deference to public opinion ’The Passion’ will no longer be
presented.”
CONSTITUENTS OF MORSE’S PLAY.
There is nothing in Morse’s play that could exert an immoral influence.
There is no irreverence in either its spirit or its incidents. It is
merely a goody-goody, tiresome composition, full of moral twaddle, and
consisting in about equal degree of platitude and bombast. It purports
to be written in blank verse, but it is, in fact, written in nondescript
lines of unequal length, halting, irregular, formless, weak, and
diffuse. Choruses of rhymed doggerel occur in it, at intervals,
sometimes uttered by women, sometimes,--on the contrary,--by angels.
Stress is laid on the efforts of _Pontius Pilate_ to save _Jesus_ from
the fury of the mob. There is a succession of pictures. In the Temple of
Jerusalem many females appear, carrying babes, and a ferocious _Jew_,
essaying to kill the infant _Jesus_, falls back astounded and
overwhelmed by the aspect of the sacred infant. Later, _Joseph_, _Mary_,
and the _Holy Child_ are shown environed and protected by a branching
sycamore tree, while, in the mountains all around them, many shrieking
women and children are slaughtered by ruffianly soldiers. In a sequent
picture _King Herod_, uttering a multiplicity of aphorisms, wrangles
with his wife, _Herodias_, and the seductive _Salomé_ dances before them
and wins for her mother the head of her enemy, _John the Baptist_, which
pleasing trophy, wrapped in a napkin, is brought in on a tray. _Jesus_
and his disciples are then shown at the brook of Kedron. The agony of
_Jesus_ in the Garden of Gethsemane is depicted and the betrayal by
_Judas_, the latter scene being double, to show, on one side, a lighted
room in which is reproduced a semblance of “The Last Supper” according
to the admired picture by Leonardo da Vinci, and on the other a gloomy
range of plains and hills dimly lighted by the stars. In this scene
passages from the New Testament are incorporated into Morse’s play, in
the part of _Jesus_. The arraignment of _Jesus_ before _Pilate_
follows, including the wrangle between the furious people and that
clement magistrate, and ending with the investiture of _Jesus_ with the
Crown of Thorns. The final picture shows Golgotha, under a midnight sky,
and the removal of the dead body from the Cross.
AS TO PROPRIETY.
Salmi Morse, in conversation with me and my old comrade Dr. Charles
Phelps, at the time of the reading in the vestibule of the Park Theatre,
said that he began “The Passion Play” with the intention of writing a
poem like Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” but soon discovered that the Byronic
style, as evinced in “Cain,” was more consonant than the Miltonic style
with his subject and his genius, and accordingly determined to write not
like Milton but like Byron; and he added that his drama was really not,
at first, intended for the Stage, but for publication in a book. That
was a discreet judgment, from which it is a pity that he ever departed.
I have not, however, been able at any time to perceive what decisive
_moral_ reason there is why “The Passion Play” should not be presented
on the stage. Reasons other than moral can readily be assigned: it is a
matter of _Taste_, in which it is a gross injustice to employ the
police power as a corrective, and a matter of _Public Policy_, in
which, with due consideration, the police power can properly be invoked.
Familiar treatment of things widely considered sacred is, perhaps,
likely to lower them, except with very ignorant persons, in sanctity and
dignity, and certainly it does lower them with many persons of fine
intelligence and taste. In the end of a church in Heidelberg there is,
or was, visible, through a long window, a full-length effigy of Christ
on the Cross, which swings to and fro as a pendulum to the clock, and in
a church at Mayence there is a life-size figure of the Virgin Mary,
seated, with the body of the dead Christ, also life-size, lying across
her knees. I remember looking on those objects with aversion. To _see_,
in a theatre, a man, impersonating the _Christ_, washing the feet of
another man will, generally, give offence. Religious bigotry is a curse
to civilization, and nothing should be conceded to it, but certainly the
scruples of religious persons should receive reasonable respect.
“THE PASSION PLAY” IN NEW YORK.
After the suppression of his “Passion Play” in California Morse brought
it to New York and offered it to Henry E. Abbey, then a prominent
speculative manager, who, for a time, entertained the purpose of
producing it at Booth’s Theatre. A drop curtain was painted, showing a
flight of angels toward Heaven on Easter morning, and the purpose of
Morse was made known to remove the statue of Shakespeare from the top of
the proscenium arch and to substitute a large cross in its place.
Obstacles intervened,--disapproval, voiced in the newspaper press, being
one of them, and the destruction of Abbey’s New Park Theatre by fire
(October 30, 1882), in which conflagration all the costumes were
destroyed, being another,--and that project was abandoned. Prior to that
mishap Morse gave a reading of the play, December 3, 1880, at the Cooper
Institute; and later, February-April, 1883, ineffectual efforts were
made by the author (which brought him before Judge George C. Barrett, of
the New York Supreme Court) to present it in a house which he rented and
called Salmi Morse’s Temple (afterward known as Proctor’s Twenty-third
Street Theatre). His endeavors were finally blocked by an injunction,
and the venture was heard of no more. Belasco was in New York at the
time of Morse’s attempt to have his “Passion Play” represented there,
and Morse wished him to undertake the stage direction of it, but being
otherwise employed, and also clearly perceiving the public antipathy to
the project, he discreetly declined to participate in the enterprise.
On February 22, 1884, the unfortunate Morse met death by drowning, in
the Hudson River, near Harlem, and he was thought to have committed
suicide.
BELASCO’S SERVICES TO MORSE’S ENTERPRISE.
The successful presentment of Morse’s play in California was due to the
sincerity and ability of O’Neill and to the ardent enthusiasm of
Belasco, who revelled in the opportunities which he discovered for
pictorial display: he explored every accessible source for paintings to
be copied and for suggestions as to costume, color, and “atmosphere,”
and, particularly, he made use of every expedient of “realistic” effect.
Belasco writes of this: “I had seen ’The Passion Play’ in Europe, but,
without prejudice, our little far-western town held the honors.” That
statement involves a slip of memory. He had, in March, 1879, been as far
east as New York, but his first visit to Europe did not occur till 1884.
His view of the Oberammergau performance was obtained long after the
presentment of Morse’s play in San Francisco. The following reminiscence
by Belasco of the California representation of “The Passion Play” is
instructive:
“How we scoured San Francisco,--school, church, and theatre,--for
people to put in our cast! Every actor who was out of employment
was sure of finding something to do in our mob scenes. I cannot
conceive, in the history of the Theatre, a more complete or a more
perfect cast.
“We engaged 200 singers; we marshalled 400 men, women, children,
and infants in our _ensembles_. And in the preparation every one
seemed to be inspired.... O’Neill, as the preparations progressed,
grew more and more obsessed. He gave up smoking; all the little
pleasures of life he denied himself. Any man who used a coarse word
during rehearsals was dismissed. He walked the streets of the city
with the expression of a holy man on his face. Whenever he drew
near a hush prevailed such as one does not often find outside a
church. The boards of the stage became Holy Land.
“I also became a veritable monomaniac on the subject; I was never
without a Bible under my arm. I went to the Mercantile Library and
there studied the color effects in the two memorable canvases there
hung, depicting the dance of Salomé and the Lord’s Supper. My life
seemed changed as never before, and once more my thoughts began to
play with monastery life, and I thought of the days spent in
Vancouver with my priest friend.
“The play traced the whole sequence of historical events leading to
the Crucifixion and the Resurrection, and I remember how many
effects we had to evolve for ourselves. In the Massacre of the
Innocents we had a hundred mothers on the stage, with their babes
in their arms. In the scene where _Joseph_ and _Mary_ came down the
mountain side we had a flock of real sheep following in their wake.
The entire performance was given with a simplicity that amounted to
grandeur. All was accomplished by fabrics and stage lighting, and
when O’Neill came up from his dressing room and appeared on the
stage with a halo about him women sank on their knees and prayed,
and when he was stripped and dragged before _Pontius Pilate_,
crowned with a crown of thorns, many fainted.
“I have produced many plays in many parts of the world, but never
have I seen an audience awed as by ’The Passion Play.’ The greatest
performance of a generation was the _Christus_ of James O’Neill.”
“The Passion Play” was succeeded at the Grand Opera House by a melodrama
entitled “The New Babylon,” produced under the stage management of
Belasco; and, on May 5, at the Baldwin, an adaptation by him of Sardou’s
“La Famille Benoiton!” was brought out under the name of “A Fast
Family.” This was performed for a fortnight, during which Belasco wrote
a play which he called “The Millionaire’s Daughter,” and contrived for
its presentment a remarkably handsome and effective scenic investiture.
“THE MILLIONAIRE’S DAUGHTER.”
Bronson Howard’s play of “The Banker’s Daughter” (one act of which was
written by A. R. Cazauran) was produced, for the first time, November
30, 1878, at the Union Square Theatre, New York, where it held the stage
till April 16, 1879, receiving 137 performances. It was regarded as one
of the “sensations” of the time, and Maguire, desiring to secure its
presentment at the Baldwin Theatre, began negotiations to that end with
Palmer early in 1879. Palmer named terms that Maguire would not, or
could not, meet and they were rejected. But a new play was urgently
required for the Baldwin, and Maguire turned to Belasco, asking, “Can’t
you make something for us on similar lines?” Belasco readily agreed to
do this, but presently expressed doubt as to Baldwin’s consent to pay
the heavy price of certain novel expedients of stage-setting which he
wished to use.
“In my principal scene,” he said to me, “I wanted a striking, new
effect,--walls of a delicate pink, hung with rich lace, and I knew it
would cost a lot. I went to Baldwin about it, after talking to Maguire,
who thought it impossible, and told him the story of my play, and what I
wanted to do in the way of settings, and my fear about expenses. Baldwin
said, ’I understand Palmer’s coming out here, to the California, with
“The Banker’s Daughter.” I think he tried to stick us up on that piece,
and I’d like to beat him. We don’t need to go to so much expense as you
think, Davy. You say you want laces: well, I’ll let you have some lace,
such as nobody has ever seen on a stage!’ And he did. It was real
antique stuff, belonging to his daughter and himself, from their home.
I designed the scene as I wanted it, had plain set pieces painted (they
cost us only a few dollars) in delicate shades of pink, and draped
Baldwin’s lace over them. The effect was beautiful,--I’ve never seen
anything of the kind as good,--and it _looked_ like the room of ’a
millionaire’s daughter.’ But I was glad when the run was over and the
stuff safely back in Baldwin’s home: there was over $30,000 worth of it
used in that set, and it kept me anxious all the time.”
Belasco’s play of “The Millionaire’s Daughter” was produced at the
Baldwin Theatre on May 19, 1879, and it was received with much favor. It
tells the story of a woman who marries one man while believing herself
to be in love with another, but who comes, through an ordeal of sorrow
and suffering, to know the value of her husband and to love him. It is
not important, though creditable as a melodramatic specimen of what
Augustin Daly used to describe as “plays of contemporaneous human
interest.” The chief parts in it were cast as follows:
_Mortimer Rushton_ James O’Neill.
_Richard Trevellian_ Lewis Morrison.
_Adam Trueman_ A. D. Bradley.
_Stephen Snarley_ J. W. Jennings.
_Ulysses S. Danripple, N. Y., U. S. A._ James A. Herne.
_Timothy Tubbs_ David Belasco.
_Ethel Trueman_ Rose Wood.
_Mabel St. Everard_ Katherine Corcoran.
_Aunt Sophie_ Kate Denin.
Belasco was at once accused of having stolen his play from “The Banker’s
Daughter,” but on investigation by Palmer’s representative it promptly
appeared that the charge was unwarranted. “The chief real resemblances,”
said Belasco, “are the title and the Duel Scene. We did call my play
’The Millionaire’s Daughter’ because of the success of Howard’s piece:
the Duel Scene, however, I took from ’The Corsican Brothers.’ Howard,
probably, took his from the same source; nobody acquainted with the
theatre could very well help knowing that scene!”
The situation alluded to is an old one and it has been often used. The
scene is a glade in the woods. The duellists, attended by their seconds,
are confronted, each intent on homicide. The time is nightfall. The
ground is thinly covered with snow. Each of the combatants is attired in
a white shirt, open at the neck, without collar; black trousers and
shoes. A faint twilight is diffused over the picture, and the ominous,
grisly effect of it is enhanced by low, minor music. Gleaming rapiers
are engaged and the combat proceeds to its fatal close: few other
situations have been made the occasion of as much ridicule; yet,
fashioned with care and treated with sincerity, this one never fails to
thrill the spectators,--and probably it never will.
Palmer’s production of “The Banker’s Daughter” was announced for
presentment at the California Theatre on June 9, 1879; but the success
of Belasco’s play, at the Baldwin, led to the cancellation by Palmer of
his engagement in San Francisco, and Howard’s play, in its definitive
form, was not acted there until long afterward: it had, however,
previously been performed there under the name of “Lillian’s Lost Love.”
DETRACTION OF BELASCO.--EARLY CALIFORNIA INFLUENCES.
Those persons who intellectually and influentially rise above the level
of mediocrity almost invariably find their attainments denied, their
achievements belittled, their motives impugned, and their characters
besmirched. Belasco has had a liberal experience of detraction. One of
the most insistent disparagements that have followed him is the charge
that, in the course of his long career as a manager in New York, he has
never produced any of the plays of Shakespeare, for the reason that he
does not possess either the knowledge, taste, training, or ability
requisite for their suitable presentment. It is true that Belasco, since
becoming a theatrical manager in New York, has not, as yet, produced any
play of Shakespeare’s or any of the standard old legitimate dramas.
That, doubtless, has been a loss to the public; but deferring, for the
moment, scrutiny of reasons that have restrained him from such ventures,
it will be pertinent and instructive here to consider the question of
his competence to make such revivals,--because such consideration
necessarily concerns itself with the theatrical environment in which he
grew up and in which he received his early training. As bearing on such
an examination a glance at the antecedents of the San Francisco Stage
will be helpful. The Circus preceded the Theatre in California, but only
by a few weeks. Two circus companies were performing in San Francisco
early in 1849. The first dramatic performance given in that city
occurred in the same year, in a building called Washington Hall. In the
same year, also, the first regular theatre built in the State was
opened, in Sacramento: it cost $80,000 and it was called the Eagle.
James H. McCabe,--a good friend to Belasco in later years,--was a member
of its first company. Other theatres built subsequently in Sacramento
were the Tehama, the Pacific, the American, and
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Belasco’s Collection.
BELASCO AS _ARMAND DUVAL_, IN “CAMILLE”]
the Edwin Forrest. The dramatic movement, once started, became vigorous
and swift. In 1851, in San Francisco, the Jenny Lind and the American
theatres were built, and in 1853 a spacious and handsome playhouse was
erected, called the Metropolitan, and also a theatre called the Adelphi
was opened, in which performances were given in French. Among the
managers who were active and prominent in early California days were
Wesley Venua, John S. Potter, Joseph Rowe, Charles Robert Thorne (the
Elder), Daniel Wilmarth Waller, George Ryer, Charles A. King, McKean
Buchanan, J. B. Booth, Jr., and Samuel Colville,--the latter
subsequently so widely known and so popular in New York. Among actors of
the period who were local favorites were James Stark, James H. Warwick,
William Barry, “Dan” Virgil Gates, John Woodard, Edward N. Thayer, Frank
Lawlor, John Dunn (often jocosely styled “Rascal Jack”), Elizabeth
Jefferson (Mrs. Thoman, afterwards Mrs. Saunders), Mrs. Emanuel Judah
(Marietta Starfield Torrence), Mary Woodard, and Marie Duret,--“the
limpet,” once for some time associated with Gustavus Vaughan Brooke (and
so called because she “stuck to him” till she had accumulated
considerable money and jewelry, and then left him; she seems to have
been a great annoyance). Before Belasco’s birth (1853) the Drama had
become well established in California, and during his boyhood there and
his early professional association with it,--that is, from about 1865 to
1882,--its condition was generally prosperous, often brilliant. Within
that period the San Francisco Stage was illumined by actors of every
description, some of them being of the highest order as well as of the
brightest renown. Belasco’s personal association with the Theatre, as
has been shown, began in infancy; his earliest impressions were imbued
with histrionic and dramatic influence. Charles Kean, Edwin Forrest, and
Julia Dean were figures in his childish mind that he never could forget.
Among the notable actors whom he saw, with many of whom at one time or
another he was actively associated, and among whom are numbered some men
and women whose histrionic genius has not been surpassed, were Catharine
Sinclair, Matilda Heron, James E. Murdoch, James William Wallack, the
Younger; Charles Wheatleigh, William A. Mestayer, John Wilson, Mrs.
Saunders, Kate Denin, John Collins, Mrs. Poole, John E. Owens, Edwin
Adams, Walter Montgomery, James Stark, Edward A. Sothern, Frank Mayo,
Barry Sullivan, Edwin Booth, James O’Neill, Lewis Morrison, Eben
Plympton, John Brougham, James A. Herne, Frank S. Chanfrau, James F.
Cathcart, William H. Crane, (Charles) Barton Hill, W. J. Florence and
Mrs. Florence, Barney Williams and Mrs. Williams, Benedict De Bar,
George Rignold, George Fawcett Rowe, Charles F. Coghlan, W. E. Sheridan,
Mrs. D. P. Bowers, Adelaide Neilson, William Horace Lingard and Mrs.
Lingard (Alice Dunning), Lotta (Charlotte Crabtree), Charlotte Thompson,
Carlotta Leclercq, Neil Warner, Daniel E. Bandmann, Minnie Palmer, Jean
Davenport Lander, Mrs. F. M. Bates, Sallie A. Hinckley, Dion Boucicault,
Katharine Rodgers, Helena Modjeska, and Rose Coghlan. Those, and many
more, were not mere _names_ to Belasco: they were the vital, active
personification of all that he most loved and desired--the Stage. The
environment of his youth, allowing for all the trials and hardships to
which incidentally he was subjected, must, obviously, have been
conducive to the opening and enlightenment of his mind, the direction of
his efforts into the theatrical field, the development of his latent
powers, his education as actor, dramatist, and stage manager, and the
building of his character. He was a sensitive, highly impressionable
youth, possessed of an artistic temperament, romantic disposition,
innate histrionic and dramatic faculties, ardent ambition to excel,
eager interest in life, abundant capability of enjoyment, an almost
abnormal power of observation,--that “clutching eye” which has been well
ascribed to Dickens,--and a kindness of heart that made him instantly
and eagerly sympathetic with every form of human trial and suffering.
Such a youth could not fail to respond to some, at least, of the
improving influences to which he was exposed. In the ministrations of
such men and women as I have named he saw the rapid and splendid growth
of the Theatre in California, the swift accession to the number of fine
playhouses,--the building of Maguire’s Opera House (afterward the Bush
Street Theatre), the California Theatre, Shiels’ Opera House, Maguire’s
New Theatre, and Baldwin’s Academy of Music,--and with all of them, and
with others, he became, at one time or another and in one way or
another, connected. He was given exceptional and invaluable
opportunities of studying the respective styles and learning the
divergent methods of every class of actor and stage manager. He saw the
thorough devotion, the patient endeavor, the astonishing variety, and
the first splendid successes of John McCullough, who went to San
Francisco with Edwin Forrest, in 1866, and there laid the foundation of
his renown. He saw the intensely earnest, highly intellectual,
incessantly laborious, passionately devoted and indomitable Lawrence
Barrett, who made his first appearance in San Francisco, February 13,
1868, at Maguire’s Opera House, as _Hamlet_, and he saw many of the
great plays, finely produced and nobly acted, which were given at the
California Theatre, in the season when it was opened, January 11, 1869,
under the joint management of Barrett and McCullough. Observance of such
a dramatic company as those managers then assembled was in itself an
education for any young enthusiast and student of the art of acting, and
it is reasonable to believe that this youth profited by it. The company,
certainly, was such a one as could not anywhere be assembled now,
because most of the actors of that strain have passed away. Barrett held
the first position, dividing some of the leading business with
McCullough. William H. Sedley-Smith was the stage manager. Other members
of the company were Henry Edwards, John T. Raymond, “Willie” Edouin,
Claude Burroughs, John Torrence, J. E. Marble, John Wilson, Edward J.
Buckley, W. Caldwell, Frederick Franks, W. F. Burroughs, H. King, Henry
Atkinson, E. B. Holmes, Emilie Melville, Annette Ince, Marie Gordon,
Mrs. E. J. Buckley, Mrs. F. Franks, Mrs. Charles R. Saunders, and Mrs.
Judah. The plays presented were of all kinds and generally of the
highest order. Belasco was fortunate in possessing the special favor of
the stage manager, and he was permitted many chances of seeing those
players. The special idols of his boyish admiration were John
McCullough, Walter Montgomery, and Mrs. Bowers. As to Shakespeare--his
mother was a lover of the dramatist and a careful student of him, and
she early began to instruct her boy in the study of his characters and
in the acting of scenes from the plays: one of the first books he ever
owned was a large single volume edition of Shakespeare, which, to
gratify his childish longing, was sent to him, “from New York,” because
he believed nothing could be as fine as what came from that place. “I
read it,” he told me, “from the title-page to the last word, with a
dictionary and a glossary.” He saw many of the plays of Shakespeare set
upon the stage, by some of the most accomplished, conscientious, and
scholarly actors and stage managers that have served the art--men and
women the capabilities and achievements of any one of whom, in the stage
production of Shakespeare, would shame the abilities of all Belasco’s
detractors combined,--and he participated, not only as actor but as
stage manager, in the representation of those plays. The works of
Shakespeare which were thus made
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO AS _MARK ANTONY_.
IN “JULIUS CAESAR”
“_I will not do them wrong; I rather choose_
_To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,_
_Than I will wrong such honorable men!_”
--Act III, sc. 2
Photograph by Bradley, San Francisco.
Original loaned by Mrs. David Belasco.]
familiar to him, in their technical aspect, are “King Richard III.”
(Cibber’s version), “Hamlet,” “Othello,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “Julius
Cæsar,” “Macbeth,” “King John,” “King Lear,” “Coriolanus,” “Cymbeline,”
“Measure for Measure,” “The Comedy of Errors,” “Much Ado About Nothing,”
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “The Merchant of Venice,” “Katharine and
Petruchio” (Garrick’s version), “Twelfth Night,” and “As You Like It.”
He played all sorts of parts in Shakespeare, from the slightest to some
of the greatest: in San Francisco he would play anything,--the
_Salanios_, _Guildensterns_, _First Messengers_, _Citizens_, etc., and
frequently go on as a super,--merely to gain opportunity to be on the
stage with the leaders of his profession, in order that he might observe
them. Fired with emulous ambition, he would then obtain employment in
any travelling or barnstorming company in which he could play some of
the greater parts, and in that way,--acting, of course, at first in
imitation of various distinguished players whose performances he had
witnessed, but also, more and more as his experience grew, along
experimental lines of his own contrivance,--he played, among other
parts, _Mercutio_, _Marc Antony_, _Friar Lawrence_ and _Hamlet_. He also
sometimes acted women;--in Shakespeare, notably, the _Nurse_, in “Romeo
and Juliet,” and _Queen Gertrude_, in “Hamlet.” In short, the truth,
respecting Belasco and his qualification for producing Shakespeare’s
dramas, is that he is better qualified to present them than any other
stage manager in America. His abstention from that field has been due to
a variety of causes, chief among them being that, at first, while he was
fighting his way to a position in which he could produce _anything_, and
immediately after his achievement of that independence, the field of
Shakespearean acting was almost exclusively occupied by famous, popular,
and prosperous stars, who did not need his services, having their own,
and with whom he must have vainly contended in an unequal rivalry; and,
later, that there was an almost complete dearth of qualified
Shakespearean performers. That dearth might not be so nearly complete
now if Belasco had earlier turned his attention to the production of
Shakespeare: on the other hand, he had to _win_ his place before he
could fill it,--and the carpers who censure him for what he has not done
would, in most instances, have been as vigorous in censure if he had
brought out plays of Shakespeare as they have been because he has not:
what they actually seek for is any ground for fault-finding. Belasco’s
sound sense and good judgment were well shown in a recent conversation
with me, relative to David Warfield’s ambition to play _Shylock_:
“Warfield,” he said, “is wild to play _Shylock_, and is at me every
little while to bring out ’The Merchant.’ I’d like to do it, but it
isn’t practical just now, and so I tell him, ’Wait, wait,’--though he
doesn’t want to _wait_! But it would be foolish at present: to-day
’Dave’ Warfield is one of the most prosperous of actors: he can play
’The Music Master,’ and ’The Auctioneer,’ and make a fortune--just as
Jefferson did with ’Rip’ and ’The Rivals.’ But what will happen if I
bring him out as _Shylock_, at once, in New York, or close to it? A lot
of the paltry scribblers who don’t know anything about ’The Merchant’
will have their knives into him up to the hilt--and the next morning,
whether he’s good, bad, or indifferent, he’ll be the best ’roasted’
actor on the stage--the venture will be no good, and when he goes back
to ’The Music Master’ his standing will have been hurt. _Nobody_ can
give a great performance of _Shylock_ the first time. When we are ready,
I’ll take a modest little company out into the backwoods somewhere, so
far away from New York that nobody here knows there are such places, and
let Warfield play _Shylock_ for three months or so. Then, when he’s
found himself and can show what he can really do, if it’s no good we’ll
drop it, and if (as I expect) it turns out great, I’ll bring him into
New York and give them such a production as they haven’t seen since
Irving played the piece.” That is the clear, right, prescient insight of
an authentic theatrical manager, who understands that a vital part of
the management of the Theatre consists in management of the People.
BELASCO’S REPERTORY AS AN ACTOR.
A complete list of the characters that Belasco assumed, while he
remained an actor, is not obtainable, but the subjoined partial list,
which I have carefully made by consulting newspaper advertisements and
other sources of authentic information, is sufficiently suggestive of
his ample experience in the vocation of acting. The student of his
career should needfully bear in mind, moreover, that he has, first and
last, set on the stage every one of the plays here named (and many
others), besides acting in them:
[Illustration:
Photograph by Falk. The Albert Davis Collection.
BELASCO, ABOUT 1880]
PART. PLAY.
(A)
_Alfred Evelyn_ “Money.”
_Antonio_ “The Merchant of Venice.”
_Apothecary_ “Romeo and Juliet.”
_Archibald Carlyle_ “East Lynne.”
_Armand Duval_ “Camille.”
_Avica, the Spirit of Avarice_ “A Storm of Thoughts.”
(B)
_Baldwin_ “Ireland and America.”
_Benvolio_ “Romeo and Juliet.”
_Bernardo_ “Hamlet.”
_Biondello_ “Katharine and Petruchio.”
_Black Donald_ “The Hidden Hand.”
_Bleeding Sergeant_ “Macbeth.”
_Bloater_ “Maum Cre.”
_Bob_ “The Black Hand.”
_Bob Brierly_ “The Ticket-of-Leave Man.”
_Bob Rackett_ “Help.”
_Box_ “Box and Cox.”
_Buddicombe_ “Our American Cousin.”
_Butler_ “Man and Wife.”
(C)
_Captain Blenham_ “The Rough Diamond.”
_Captain Crosstree_ “Black-Ey’d Susan.”
_Charles Oakley_ “The Jealous Wife.”
_Château-Renaud_ “The Corsican Brothers.”
_Claude Melnotte_ “The Lady of Lyons.”
_Clifford_ “The Hunchback.”
_Colonel Dent_ “The Governess.”
_Conner O’Kennedy_ “Green Bushes.”
_Cool_ “London Assurance.”
_Cox_ “Box and Cox.”
_Craven Lenoir_ “The Hidden Hand.”
(D)
_Dan_ “The Streets of New York.”
_Danny Mann_ “The Colleen Bawn.”
_Darley_ “Dark Deeds.”
_Dauphin_ “King Louis XI.”
_De Mauprat_ “Richelieu.”
_DeWilt_ “Under the Gas-Light.”
_Dickory_ “The Spectre Bridegroom.”
_Doctor of Hospital_ “The Two Orphans.”
_Dolly Spanker_ “London Assurance.”
_Don Cæsar_ “Donna Diana.”
_Duke of Burgundy_ “King Lear.”
(E)
_Earl of Oxford_ “King Richard III.”
(F)
_Fagin_ “Oliver Twist.”
_First Citizen_ “Julius Cæsar.”
_First Dwarf_ “Rip Van Winkle.”
_First Fury_ “Pluto.”
_First Grave-Digger_ “Hamlet.”
_First Officer_ “Macbeth.”
_First Policeman_ “Little Don Giovanni.”
_Fournechet, Minister of Finance_ “A Life’s Revenge.”
_Francesco_ “Hamlet.”
_Frank Breezly_ “Katy.”
_Friar Lawrence_ “Romeo and Juliet.”
_Furnace, the Cook_ “A New Way to Pay Old Debts.”
(G)
_Galeas_ “The Enchantress.”
_Gaspard_ “The Lady of Lyons.”
_Gaston_ “Camille.”
_Genius of the Ring_ “The Wonderful Scamp, or Aladdin No. 2.”
_George Sheldon_ “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
_Gilbert Gates_ “The Dawn of Freedom.”
_Gringoire_ “The Ballad Monger.”
_Guildenstern_ “Hamlet.”
_Gyp_ “Saratoga.”
(H)
_Hamlet_ “Hamlet.”
_Harvey_ “Out at Sea.”
_Heinrich Vedder_ “Rip Van Winkle.”
_Hon. Bob Penley_ “Fritz in a Madhouse.”
(I)
_Idiot, the_ “The Idiot of the Mountain.”
(J)
_James Callin_ “Across the Continent.” (Prologue.)
_Jasper Pidgeon_ “Meg’s Diversion.”
_Job Armroyd_ “Lost in London.”
_John O’Bibs_ “The Long Strike.”
_Johnson_ “The Lancashire Lass.”
_Joseph Surface_ “The School for Scandal.”
(K)
_King Louis the Eleventh_ “King Louis XI.”
(L)
_Laertes_ “Hamlet.”
_Lawyer Marks_ “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
_Lawyer Tripper_ “Solon Shingle” (“The People’s Lawyer.”)
_Lieutenant_ “Don Cæsar de Bazan.”
_Lieutenant Victor_ “The Lion of Nubia.”
_Le Beau_ “As You Like It.”
_Lorenzo_ “The Wife.”
_Louis_ “One Hundred Years Old.”
(M)
_Maffeo Orsini_ “Lucretia Borgia.”
_Major Hershner_ “Twice Saved.”
_Malcolm_ “Macbeth.”
_Mandeville_ “The Young Widow.”
_Marc Antony_ “Julius Cæsar.”
_Marco_ “The Wife.”
_Mark_ “The Prodigal’s Return.”
_Mark Meddle_ “London Assurance.”
_Marquis_ “The Pearl of Savoy.”
_Master Walter_ “The Hunchback.”
_Mateo, the Landlord_ “The Beauty and the Brigands.”
_Melter Moss_ “The Ticket-of-Leave Man.”
_Mercutio_ “Romeo and Juliet.”
_Mr. Ellingham_ “Hearts of Oak.”
_Mr. Honeyton_ “A Happy Pair.”
_Mr. Trimeo_ “The Mysterious Inn.”
_Mr. Toodle_ “The Toodles.”
_Mrs. Cornelia_ “East Lynne.”
_Mrs. Willoughby_ “The Ticket-of-Leave Man.”
_Modus_ “The Hunchback.”
_Mons. Deschapelles_ “The Lady of Lyons.”
_Moses_ “The School for Scandal.”
_Mother Frochard_ “The Two Orphans.”
(N)
_Nathan_ “Leah the Forsaken.”
_Nick o’ the Woods_
(_the Jibbenainosay_,
_The Avenger_,
_Reginald Ashburn_,
_Bloody Nathan_,
and _The Spirit of The Water_) “The Jibbenainosay.”
_Nick Vedder_ “Rip Van Winkle.”
_Nurse_ “Romeo and Juliet.”
(O)
_Our Guest_ “Our Mysterious Boarding House.”
(P)
_Pablo, the Harpist_ “Across the Continent.”
_Page_ “Mary Stuart.”
_Paris_ “Romeo and Juliet.”
_Pedro_ “A Yankee in Cuba.”
_Peter_ “Deborah.”
_Peter Bowbells_ “The Illustrious Stranger.”
_Peter True_ “The Statue Lover.”
_Peter White_ “Mr. and Mrs. Peter White.”
_Phil Bouncer_ “The Persecuted Traveller.”
_Philip Ray_ “Enoch Arden.”
_Pierre_ “Robert Macaire.”
_Pietre_ “The Enchantress.” (Prologue.)
_Player Queen_ “Hamlet.”
_Polonius_ “Hamlet.”
_Polydor_ “Ingomar.”
_Prince Saucilita_ “The Gold Demon.”
_Pumpernickel_ “The Child of the Regiment.”
(Q)
_Queen Gertrude_ “Hamlet.”
(R)
_Ralph_ “The Lighthouse Cliff.”
_Raphael_ (and _Phidias_) “The Marble Heart.”
_Ratcliff_ “King Richard III.”
_Reuben_ “Schermerhorn’s Boy.”
_Richard Hare_ “East Lynne.”
_Richmond_ “King Richard III.”
_Robert Landry_ “The Dead Heart.”
_Robert Macaire_ “Robert Macaire.”
_Rory O’More_ “Rory O’More.”
_Rosencrantz_ “Hamlet.”
_Ruby Darrell_ “Hearts of Oak.”
_Rudolph_ “Leah the Forsaken.”
_Rudolphe_ “Agnes.”
(S)
_Salanio_ “The Merchant of Venice.”
_Sambo_ “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
_Santo_ “Gaspardo.”
_Secretary_ “Richelieu.”
_Second Player_ “Hamlet.”
_Selim_ “The Forty Thieves.”
_Signor Mateo_ “The Miser’s Daughter.”
_Simon Lullaby_ “A Conjugal Lesson.”
_Simon Legree_ “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
_Simon, the Cobbler_ “Marie Antoinette.”
_Sir Francis Leveson_ “East Lynne.”
_Slave_ “Pygmalion and Galatea.”
_Spada_ “The Woman in Red.”
_Stuttering Tailor_ “Katharine and Petruchio.”
_Strale_ “Checkmate.”
_Sylvius_ “As You Like It.”
(T)
_Terry Dennison_ “Hearts of Oak.”
_The Destroyer_ “The Haunted Man.”
_Tim Bolus_ “My Turn Next.”
_Timothy Tubbs_ “The Millionaire’s Daughter.”
_Tony Lumpkin_ “She Stoops to Conquer.”
_Topsy_ “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
_Trip_ “The School for Scandal.”
_Tubal_ “The Merchant of Venice.”
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO AS _FAGIN_, IN “OLIVER TWIST”
Photograph by Bradley & Rulofson, San Francisco.
Original loaned by Mrs. David Belasco.]
(U)
_Uncle Tom_ “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
(V)
_Valentine_ “Faust.” (Abridgment of).
_Vasquez_ “The Wonder.”
(W)
_Waiter_ “The Gamester.”
_Waiter_ (_Negro_) “Fritz in a Madhouse.”
(Y)
_Young Marlowe_ “She Stoops to Conquer.”
Other plays in which Belasco has performed,--as I have ascertained
from newspaper advertisements or notices and from miscellaneous
records, without, however, finding specification of the parts in
them which he acted,--include “A Bull in a China Shop,” “Damon and
Pythias,” “The French Spy,” “A Hard Struggle,” “The Lone Pine,”
“Mazeppa,” “Medea,” “Mimi,” “Nobody’s Child,” “Pizarro,” and “The
Red Pocketbook.” I have no doubt that he made unrecorded and now
unremembered appearances in many other plays besides these.
To the catalogue previously given of readings and recitations
frequently employed by Belasco should be added “Tell Me Not in
Mournful Numbers,” “The Maiden’s Prayer,” “Little Jim, the
Collier’s Lad,” “Scenes from ’King Louis XI.,’” “Shamus O’Brien,”
“The Little Hero,” “No One to Love Him,” “The Trial Scene, from
’The Merchant of Venice,’” “Selections from ’Oliver Twist’” (the
scene on London Bridge, scene wherein _Fagin_ causes _Sikes_ to
murder _Nancy_, and _Fagin_ awaiting execution), “The Country
Bumpkin’s Courtship,” “Eliza,” “The Dream of Eugene Aram,” and “Jim
Bludso.”
BELASCO’S “THE STORY OF MY LIFE.”
In making a critical examination of Belasco’s “The Story of My Life,”--a
document which, of course, it has been necessary for me to consult in
writing this Memoir,--I have observed many misstatements of fact in it,
due to defective memory or to haste and heedlessness in composition, and
also the assertion of various erroneous notions and mistaken doctrines
as to the art of acting, and as to the difference in the practice of
that art between the customs of the present and the past. Turning to
that “Story” in the expectation that it would prove helpful, I found
only another specimen of the irresponsible writing which is deemed
permissible relative to the Theatre, and viewing its formidable array of
misstatements I have ruefully recalled the remark of Artemus Ward that
“it is better not to know so many things than to know so many things
that ain’t so.” Some of its errors I have specified and rectified, in
other places, in the course of this narrative. Others of its errors and
some of its errant notions and doctrines require passing reference here.
Belasco records that he early observed and condemned “the incongruity
between the stage way of doing things and the way of life itself,”--the
implication being that, in acting, actual life should be literally
copied. That is an error. There always is, and from the nature of things
always will be, a certain incongruity between actual life and an
artistic transcript of it. A literal copy of actual life shown on the
stage does not usually cause the effect of actual life: it causes the
effect of prolixity and tediousness. Belasco lays much stress on his
early and sedulous practice of making himself acquainted, by
observation, with all sorts of grewsome facts, assuring his readers that
he visited lunatic asylums in order to study madness; talked with
condemned murderers immediately prior to their execution and later
witnessed the hanging of them; observed the effects of surgical
operations performed in hospitals; contemplated deaths occurring there
as the result of violence elsewhere; obtained from a friendly,
communicative physician knowledge of the manner of death which ensues
from the action of several sorts of poison, and was favored, in a
dissecting room, with a view of a human heart which had just been
extracted from a corpse,--his purpose in this line of inquiry having
been to ascertain the multifarious manners in which persons suffer and
die, and thus to qualify himself, as actor and stage manager, to imitate
them himself or instruct others in the imitation of them. His notion,
obviously, is that the actor ought to be acquainted with these things,
and, when depicting death, should correctly and literally simulate the
particular variety of the throes of dissolution which is appropriate as
a climax to the mortal ailment or lethal stroke that destroys him.
All this is well enough in its way, but it is only a little part of the
knowledge required by the actor, and a special objection to Belasco’s
way of introducing it is the implication that such minute preparation
was peculiar and original with him. The doctrine of “realism” is often
oppugnant to dramatic art, and an extreme adherence to it has been a
primary cause of whatever is defective in Belasco’s dramatic work.
“Surely,” he exclaims, “people do not die as quietly as they do upon the
stage.” It all depends on the “people” and the circumstances, whether on
the stage or off. Death, in fact, sometimes comes so gently that its
coming is not perceived. On the other hand, “people” do not always die
quietly on the stage. Edwin Forrest, as the dying _Hamlet_, made a
prodigious pother in his expiration and was a long time about it, and he
maintained that a man of his size and massive physique could not die
from poison without manifestation of extreme agony. I many times saw
that muscular _Hamlet_ die, and the spectacle, while
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Author’s Collection.
HENRY J. MONTAGUE
(1844-1878)]
it might have been correct (since the nature of the poison which kills
_Hamlet_ is unknown the question is wholly assumptive), was never
affecting. I recollect the death of _Camille_, when that pulmonary
courtesan was impersonated by Matilda Heron: it was protracted, vulgar,
obnoxious, merely distressful, not the least pathetic, whereas the death
of _Camille_ when Modjeska played the part or when Sarah Bernhardt
played it was attended by no spasms, no convulsions, no gurgitations,
was almost instantaneous, and was inexpressibly touching.
Belasco is not the only actor, by many, who has studied madness in
lunatic asylums, or observed the phenomena of death in hospitals, or
sounded the depths of human depravity in slums and bagnios, or looked at
human nature and human life through a microscope. The biographies of
Garrick, Kemble, Cooke, Kean, Macready, Forrest, and Booth, for example,
teem with evidence to the contrary. It is indisputably necessary that
the authentic actor should _know_, but it is equally essential that when
he comes to practise his art he should possess the _judgment to select_
and the skill to use his selected knowledge in such a way as to
accomplish his purpose--not mar or defeat it.
Another of Belasco’s completely mistaken and indeed comically errant
notions is set forth in the following paragraph from his “Story”:
“Coming to New York as a stranger, I knew I had a task before me
_to introduce_ the _new style_ of acting which I felt was destined
to take the place of the melodramatic method.... For a long time I
had promised myself to give the public _a new style of acting and
playwriting, all my own_.... New York audiences had been trained in
_a school of exaggerated stage declamation, accompanied by a stage
strut, and large, classic, sweeping gestures_, so, when _I
introduced_ the _quiet acting_, we were laughed to scorn, and the
papers criticised our ’milk and water’ methods. _It was all new_,
and those who saw went away stunned and puzzled. We were considered
extremists at the Madison Square Theatre, but we persisted, with
the result that _our method_ prevails to-day.” [The italics are
mine.--W. W.]
It is difficult to understand how such emanations of error could have
proceeded from the pen of such an experienced actor, manager, dramatist,
and observer as David Belasco, and it is even more difficult to be
patient with them. New York audiences before his time had never been
“trained in a school of exaggeration,” and there was nothing in the
least new,--unless, perhaps, it were Sunday-school tameness,--in the
style of acting that was exhibited in the Madison Square Theatre. Long
before Belasco’s advent the New York audience had seen, enjoyed,
admired, and accepted Edwin Booth as _Hamlet_ and _Richelieu_, Lester
Wallack as _de Vigny_ and as _Don Felix_, Gilbert as _Old Dornton_,
Blake as _Jesse Rural_, Chippindale as _Grandfather Whitehead_, Henry
Placide as _Lord Ogleby_, Couldock as _Luke Fielding_, Jefferson as _Rip
Van Winkle_, Salvini as _Conrad_ and _Sullivan_, Owens as _Caleb
Plummer_, Walcot as _Touchstone_, Emery as _Bob Tyke_, Davenport as _St.
Marc_, Elizabeth Jefferson (Mrs. Richardson) as _Pauline_, Agnes
Robertson as _Jeanie Deans_, Mrs. Hoey as _Lady Teazle_, Laura Keene as
_Marco_ and as _Peg Woffington_, Julia Bennett (Mrs. Barrow) as
_Hypolita_ and _Cicely Homespun_, Mrs. Vernon as _Lady Franklin_, Mary
Carr as _Temperance_, and Mary Gannon as _Prue_,--all of whom (and many
more might be mentioned) were conspicuously representative of the most
refined, delicate, “natural,” “quiet” style of acting that has been
known anywhere. That the New York audience had seen “barnstormers” and
“soapchewers” is true--but the educated, intelligent part of it had
laughed at them before Belasco’s time just as heartily as it has since.
I recollect evenings of frolic, many years ago, when I repaired, with
gay comrades, to the old Bowery Theatre, with no other intent than to be
merry over the proceedings of posers and spouters, of the _Crummles_ and
_Bingley_ variety, who were sometimes to be found there. That tribe has
always existed. Cicero derided it, in old Rome. In Shakespeare’s
“Hamlet,” written more than three hundred years ago, the _Prince_
condemns the “robustious, periwig-pated fellow,” who tears “a passion to
tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings,” and utters
his well-known, wise counsel to actors that they should “acquire and
beget a temperance” that may give “smoothness” to their expression of
even the most tempestuous passion. The movement toward artistic acting
has always, apparently, been going on. Every student of theatrical
history has read about the elocutionary improvement effected by David
Garrick, in 1741. It is a matter of common knowledge that Macready was
famous for the great excellence of his “quiet acting,” his wonderful use
of facial expression, while never speaking a word. Edmund Kean, it has
been authentically recorded, moved his audience to tears, merely by his
_aspect_, while, as the _Stranger_, he sat gazing into vacancy,
listening to the song,--sung for him, when he acted in this country, by
Jefferson’s mother:
“I have a silent sorrow here,
A grief I’ll ne’er impart,
It breathes no sigh, it sheds no tear,
But it consumes my heart.”
I have seen many an audience in tears when the elder Hackett acted
_Monsieur Mallet_ and when Jefferson, as poor old _Rip_, murmured the
forlorn question, “Are we so soon forgot when we are gone?” No modern
manager has invented “natural,”--by which I mean _artistic_,--acting.
Belasco did not invent it, nor did he introduce it at the Madison Square
Theatre. He was affected by what he saw around him in acting, precisely
as he was affected by what he saw around him in playwriting: like other
workers in the Theatre, he sought to better his instruction, and he has
contributed to the development of changes (not all of them beneficial)
in the Theatre. At the Madison Square, both as stage manager and
dramatist, he dissipated the insipidity with which a deference to
clerical management was blighting the prospects of a capital company at
that house, so that from the moment he joined it its fortunes began to
improve.
THE EVIL OF INCOMPETENT CRITICISM.
It is one of the hardships under which actors are compelled to pursue
their vocation that the Theatre and its votaries are continually subject
to the idle comment, indiscriminate praise, and capricious censure of
many incompetent writers in the press. A few capable, well-equipped,
earnest, and thoughtful critics unquestionably there are, in various
parts of the Republic, but every little publication in the country
parades its dramatic “critic,” and most of those scribblers show
themselves ignorant alike of dramatic literature, dramatic art, the
history of the Stage, human nature, and human life. That statement is
proved every day of the year, and it is folly to ascribe it to the
discontent of age or to lack of sympathy with contemporary life. Any
intelligent, educated person can put it to the test as often as desired.
The newspapers, as a rule, do not wish dramatic criticism: theatrical
managers, almost without exception, resent it and oppose it: the
newspapers receive paid advertisements and the theatrical advertisers
assume to be entitled to forbearance and to puffery in the “critical”
columns. This is not true of all newspapers, but it is generally true,
and the writers, whether competent or not, can bear testimony to its
truth. I know of nothing more dreary than the pages of drivel about the
drama which periodically make their appearance in many newspapers and
magazines. A favorite topic of those commentators is the immense
superiority of the plays and the acting of To-day over the plays and the
acting that pleased our forefathers. There was, it appears, nothing
good in the Past: there is nothing but good in the Present. The old
actors were artificial “pumps,” stagey, declamatory, “spouters.”
Shakespeare is archaic. Old Comedy is a bore. The plays of Molière and
Sheridan creak on their hinges. The plays of twenty, fifteen, ten years
ago have “aged”! “Progress” has become of such celerity that the dramas
of yesterday are “out of date”--before the second season begins! The
principles of art have altered, and they alter afresh with the startling
discoveries of each new batch of collegiate criticasters. Human nature
has changed. The forces of the universe are different. The sun rises in
the west and water runs uphill. Acting now is smooth, flexible, natural,
fluent. Behold, we have made a new theatrical Heaven and Earth wherein
dwelleth a NEW STYLE! It is lamentable that these ignorant, frivolous
babblers of folly should be able to cite even one word from such an
authority as David Belasco in support of their ridiculous pretensions:
it is the more deplorable since, if he were brought to a serious
consideration of his heedless assertions, he would certainly recant
them. I am not able to believe, for example, that he would stigmatize
Edwin Booth as a strutting exponent of exaggerated declamation,--an
actor who could speak blank verse as if it were the language of nature,
and always did so: an actor and manager, moreover, who did more than
any other one person of the Theatre to make possible the career of many
who followed him, including David Belasco. Nor can I believe that he
would call Florence a spouter,--Florence, who was one of the most adroit
and delicate of artists,--or deride such performances as John
Nickinson’s _Haversack_, Blake’s _Geoffrey Dale_, and Burton’s _Cap’n
Cuttle_ as specimens of flannel-mouthed melodramatic rant. Yet such were
the actors to whose style the New York audience had been accustomed long
before the time when Belasco declares that he brought an entirely new
and improved style of acting to the Madison Square Theatre and thus,--by
implication at least,--asserts that he reformed the Stage.
Augustin Daly, who began theatrical management in New York, in 1869,
when Belasco was a schoolboy of sixteen, in San Francisco, constrained
the actors whom he employed to respect and emulate the best traditions
of acting, and, while he never sought to establish a school of acting,
insisted on _Hamlet’s_ right doctrine of “temperance” and “smoothness”;
and when he carried his dramatic company to San Francisco, in 1875, at
which time Belasco saw and studied performances that were there given by
it, “The Evening Bulletin,” of that city, displeased by the delicate,
refined, “_quiet_” acting which had charmed New York, thus testified:
“The Fifth Avenue Theatre Company have a style of their own. It is
emasculated of vigor, force in action, and anything like
declamation in reading. It is _quiet_, _elegant_, _languid_; making
its points with a French shrug of the shoulders, little graceful
gestures, and rapid play of features. The voice is soft, the tone
low, and the manner at once subdued and expressive. It pleases a
certain set of fashionables, but to the general public it is acting
with the art of acting left out.”
THE NATURE OF BELASCO’S TALENTS AND SERVICES.
There has always been a desire and endeavor to act truly, and, side by
side with that desire and endeavor, there has always been abuse of the
art by incompetents and vulgarians. If you were to attend rehearsals at
some of our theatres now, you would behold coarse and blatant bullies,
of the _Mr. Dolphin_ order, blaring at the actors “More ginger!” It is
the way of that tribe and the custom in those temples of intellect. But
while Belasco has not invented any new style of acting he has done great
service to the Stage, and his name is written imperishably on the scroll
of theatrical achievement in America. As an actor his experience has
been ample and widely diversified. He possesses a complete mastery of
the technicalities of histrionic art. As a stage manager he is competent
in every particular and has no equal in this country to-day. His
judgment, taste, and expert skill in creating appropriate environment,
background, and atmosphere for a play and the actors in it are
marvellous. His attention to detail is scrupulous; and his decision is
prompt and usually unerring. No theatrical director within my
observation,--which has been vigilant and has extended over many
years,--has surpassed him in the exercise of that genius which consists
in the resolute, tireless capability of taking infinite pains. Many of
the performances which have been given under his direction are worthy to
be remembered as examples of almost perfect histrionic art. As a
dramatist he is essentially the product of that old style of writing
which produced “Venice Preserved,” “Fazio,” “The Apostate,” “The
Clandestine Marriage,” “The Jealous Wife,” etc.,--a style with which his
mind was early and completely saturated,--and of the example and
influence of Dion Boucicault, whose expertness in construction, felicity
in fashioning crisp dialogue, and exceptional skill in creating vivid
dramatic effect he has always much and rightly admired. He has written
many
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Author’s Collection.
AUGUSTIN DALY, ABOUT 1870-’75]
plays and he has co-labored with other authors in the writing of many
more. He has exerted a powerful influence upon the Stage in every part
of our country. He has battled successfully against the iniquitous
Theatrical Trust and in a great measure contributed to the curtailment
of its oppressive power. He has developed and made efficient several
stars who, without his assistance, would never have gained the
prominence which, with it, they have attained. He has established and
now (1917) maintains one of the finest theatres in the world. To have
done all this,--to have raised himself from indigence and obscurity to
honorable distinction and actual leadership in an intellectual calling,
to have made his way by force of character, native talent, indomitable
resolution, patient, continuous, indefatigable labor; to have borne,
with unshaken fortitude, hardships, trials, disappointment, enmity, and
calumny, and to have risen above all the vicissitudes of fortune,--this
surely is to have shown the steadfast man of the old Roman poet and to
have merited the reward of prosperity and the laurel of fame. His
eminence in his vocation, accordingly, and the obligation to him of the
Theatre and the Public do not require the claim of imaginary
achievements to enhance his reputation. There never was any need that he
should have claimed that he had introduced a new style of acting. I do
not doubt, judging from what I have read of his many impersonations,
that Betterton, who performed on the London stage more than two hundred
years ago, could and did exemplify “quiet acting” as thoroughly as John
Mason does, performing on the New York stage to-day. Changes,
modifications of all kinds, have occurred, many varieties of personality
have been exhibited, in many varieties of speech and bearing, but the
radical, structural change in method that has been effected, the change
from extravagance and elaborate artifice to refined simplicity, has not
been wrought by any one person but by many persons, actuated by the same
influences that have changed the physical investiture of the Theatre,
and by the advance of intelligence, sense, and taste. It is peculiarly
deplorable that the authority of Belasco should even _seem_ to sustain
such carping criticasters as I have indicated (writers who, ignorant of
theatrical history and, apparently, of much else, seek to exalt the
Present by impudent disparagement of the Past), because many of that
tribe have, recently, taken to publishing idle and stupid detraction of
Belasco himself, on the ground that he is “unprogressive” and belongs to
“the old fashion.” He has done more by a single production such as “The
Darling of the Gods” than the whole swarm of his detractors has ever
done, or ever will do, in a lifetime of scribbling, and his name will
live as a beacon of achievement, in life as well as in the Theatre,
generations after they are all vanished and forgotten, like wind-blown
dust.
CONCERNING MATTERS OF FACT.
Genest, in his exceedingly valuable “Account” of the Theatre in Great
Britain,--a work to which every later writer on the subject finds
himself more or less indebted and which ought to be reprinted,--sagely
remarks that “In giving an account of the Stage a good story may
sometimes be admitted on slender authority, but where mere matters of
fact are concerned the history of the Stage ought to be written with the
same accuracy as the history of England.” The attainment of accuracy,
however, exacts scrupulous attention, ceaseless vigilance, patient
inquiry, and hard work, and only a few writers about the Stage have ever
taken the trouble to be thorough and exact. I had expected that
Belasco’s “Story” could be depended upon in every particular and that it
would prove of invaluable aid in writing this Memoir. I do not doubt
that he designed it to be literally true, but, as a conscientious
biographer, I am compelled to mention its errors of fact, and I deem it
my duty to specify and correct some of them, as an act of justice alike
to him and to his, and my, readers.
Belasco, as I have ascertained and stated, was born not in 1858 or 1859,
as various accounts of him have declared, but in 1853. He has himself
affirmed that in 1865, in San Francisco, he walked in a funeral
procession expressive of the public grief for the death of Abraham
Lincoln and at that time wrote a play, on the tragic and pathetic fate
of that illustrious American, expositive of his views of the motives of
Lincoln’s murderer. If we were to accredit the dates which are given as
authentic in various published sketches of his life,--which appear to
have been formally sanctioned,--we should find him to have reached only
to the age of five years and nine months when he walked in that
procession and wrote that play; we should find him,--according to such
wild statements,--when he acted, in Victoria, with Julia Dean and
Charles Kean, performing with those distinguished players about three
years after both of them had died; we should admire him when, before the
age of eleven, he was critically estimating the histrionic style of
Walter Montgomery; and when, between the ages of thirteen and fourteen,
he was giving counsel, which Raymond the comedian had solicited,
relative to the play of “The Gilded Age,” and also as acting as
amanuensis to Dion Boucicault. He states that Lawrence Barrett loved
John McCullough “like his son.” Barrett, born in 1838, was six years
younger than McCullough, born in 1832, and he could not have viewed that
stalwart comrade with anything like a paternal--or a filial--feeling. In
fact, though they dwelt in amicable association as managers and actors
(it would have been hard for anybody to dwell in association with
McCullough in any other way), there was no special affection between
them, as I personally know. Belasco’s statement that McCullough was at
one time Forrest’s dresser is incorrect. He admired Forrest and he
imitated him (until the veteran gruffly told him to leave off “making a
damned fool” of himself by so doing), but he never was Forrest’s servant
or lackey. Belasco says that Barrett’s first appearance as _Cassius_, in
“Julius Cæsar,” was made in 1870, in San Francisco, and that he “hated”
the part and wished to play _Antony_, but could not because it was
Walter Montgomery’s part,--the fact being that he played _Cassius_ for
the first time about 1855, when he was about seventeen years old, at the
Metropolitan Theatre, Detroit; that he _loved_ the part; that his
affinity with it was very strong, and that he esteemed it, as what
indeed it is, the moving impulse of the whole tragedy. Barrett first
played _Cassius_ in San Francisco March 9, 1869, at the California
Theatre, Edwards acting _Antony_; that is, about one year before
Montgomery visited San Francisco. I have talked with Barrett for hours
and hours about acting, and especially about the play of “Julius Cæsar,”
but I never heard him speak with enthusiasm about the part of _Marc
Antony_, or express any desire to act that part, though he thoroughly
understood it and knew its value. Another of Belasco’s mistaken
assertions is the assurance that Walter Montgomery,--who acted _Antony_
with Barrett as _Cassius_ and McCullough as _Brutus_,--was enamoured of
an actress named Rose Massey; that he (Belasco) witnessed their first
encounter, on the stage of the California Theatre, when Montgomery was
smitten speechless at the sight of the young woman; that he soon married
her; and that, after a quarrel with her, he committed suicide, aboard a
ship bound for England. Inquiry would have corrected his memory. Poor
Montgomery (a genial fellow and a fine actor) was easily and often
enamoured: as was said of the poet Heine, “His heart was a good deal
broken in the course of his life.” Rose Massey was an ordinarily pretty
woman, one of the many devotees of the Blonde Troupe
[Illustration: LAWRENCE BARRETT AS _CAIUS CASSIUS_.
IN “JULIUS CAESAR”
“_If we do meet again, we’ll smile indeed;_
_If not, ’tis true this parting was well made!_”
--Act V. sc. 1
From a steel engraving.
Author’s Collection.]
manager, Alexander Henderson, and I remember her as a female at whom it
was easily possible to gaze without blinking. Montgomery never married
her. Walter Montgomery (Richard Tomlinson, 1827-1871: Montgomery was his
mother’s name) married an actress called Winnetta Montague. Her real
name was Laleah Burpré Bigelow. She had been the wife of a Boston
gentleman, Arnold W. Taylor. Montgomery met her on the stage at the
Boston Theatre. She was attracted by him, followed him to England, and
captured him. Their marriage occurred on August 30, 1871, and on
September 2, in a lodging in Stafford Street, Bond Street, London, he
committed suicide, by shooting, and he was buried in Brompton Cemetery.
Winnetta Montague returned to America, resumed acting, allied herself
with an Irish comedian named James M. Ward, died in New York, in abject
poverty, in 1877, and was buried by charitable members of the dramatic
profession.
The excellent and famous personation of _Fagin_ which was shown
throughout our country by J. W. Wallack, the Younger, is ascribed by
Belasco to “Lester’s father,” J. W. Wallack, the Elder, who was “Jim”
Wallack’s uncle, and by whom the part was never played. The movable
stage introduced at the Madison Square Theatre in 1879 is designated
“an innovation” invented by Steele Mackaye, whereas, in fact, it was a
variant of the movable stage scheme introduced at Booth’s Theatre, in
1869, by Edwin Booth.
“Looking over theatrical history,” Belasco exclaims, “has it ever
occurred to you how many players have based their fame _on just one
rôle_?--Salvini as _Othello_, Irving as _Mathias_, in “The Bells”;
Booth as _Hamlet_, Raymond as _Mulberry Sellers_, Sothern as
_Dundreary_, Emmet as _Fritz_, Jefferson as _Rip_, Mayo as _Davy
Crockett_, Chanfrau as _Kit_?... Most of these men struggled a
lifetime and gained recognition as creditable actors. Then,
suddenly, they struck a particular part, a sort of entertainment, a
combination of all the excellent things they had done throughout
their lives but never before had concentrated on one rôle. And
there you are! _Any other actor might have become just as famous if
Fate had thrown the part first in his way._ I have seen three
_Rips_,--that of Jefferson, that of Robert McWade, and finally that
of James A. Herne. This last was a wonderful characterization, with
all the softness and pathos of the part. I was a _Dwarf_, to
Herne’s _Rip_, in the Maguire’s Opera House days. But _Fate_ chose
to thrust forward Jefferson as the only _Rip_ that ever was or ever
could be. _I happen to know better._ Jefferson was never the
Dutchman; he was the Yankee personating the Dutchman. But James A.
Herne’s _Rip_ was the real thing.... These actors of one part are
like the favored children of heaven; they are handed something on a
golden platter, _already created by the author_. It is _to the
author_, _the director_, _the stage manager_, that the true credit
of the creation belongs. Jefferson did not really create _Rip_;
through a certain undeniable art of his _he_ simply put into
visible form what _Washington Irving_ in the story suggested and
Dion Boucicault so cleverly fitted to his personality for the
stage; _he utilized every bit of the descriptive business of the
tale_.”
Seldom has so much error and injustice been packed into so small a
space! It is true that, in many instances, individual actors have
abundantly prospered by the long-continued repetition of a single
performance: this fact, I remember, was impatiently noticed many years
ago by Don Piatt, who testily expressed in a Washington newspaper an
ardent wish that old _Rip Van Winkle_ and old _Fanchon_ would get
married and both retire. It is not because the individual actor _finds_
“a particular part, a sort of entertainment, a combination of all the
excellent things” he has done throughout his life, that he often becomes
most famous in one part; it is because, in every art, the artist’s range
of _supreme_ merit is, comparatively, narrow; no matter how well he can
do fifty things, he can, as a rule, do one thing best of all,--that
thing being always one for which, whether he happens to like it or not,
he possesses a peculiar capacity, one with which he possesses a close
artistic and physical affinity, so that, in the doing of it, he can
make an ampler and more effective display of his talents than he can
make in any other way; and also because the public (with a generally
sound instinctive preference for seeing an actor in the thing which he
can do best) insists on seeing him in it and will not go in large
numbers to see him in anything else.
How much judgment is there in a statement which classifies performances
of _Othello_, _Mathias_, and _Hamlet_ among “entertainments”? Salvini
had played _nothing_ like _Othello_, Irving _nothing_ like _Mathias_,
Booth _nothing_ like _Hamlet_ before, respectively, they played those
parts. (Such performances as _Sellers_, _Fritz_, _Crockett_, and _Kit_,
well enough in their way, do not deserve thoughtful consideration as the
basis of histrionic “fame.”) “_Any other_ actor might have become _just
as famous_ if Fate had thrown the part first in _his way_!” That is,
according to this careless commentator, although a “one-part actor”
achieves his greatest success in a part which happens to combine “all
the excellent things,” the peculiar, individual merits, of _that special
actor_, nevertheless _any other_ actor could have achieved the same
success if he had been fortunate enough to receive the golden
opportunity first. Charles Harcourt played _Mathias_, under the name of
_Paul Zegers_, at the Alfred Theatre (the old Marylebone), London, in a
version of “The Polish Jew” by Frank Burnand, several months before
Irving ever played it--and Harcourt utterly failed in it. _Othello_ and
_Hamlet_ had been played by scores of contemporary actors before Salvini
and Booth, respectively, played those parts,--yet the effect produced by
those actors in those parts was not the less unique and extraordinary.
Irving’s _fame_ as an actor, moreover, rested and rests at least as much
on his _Hamlet_, _Shylock_, _King Louis_, _Mephistopheles_, and
_Benedick_ as on his _Mathias_. _Hamlet_ certainly was Booth’s most
typical performance, but also certainly he was more _popular_ as
_Richelieu_ than as _Hamlet_, and his _fame_ rests on that part and on
his _Brutus_, _Shylock_, _King Richard the Third_, and _Iago_ as much as
on his _Hamlet_. Salvini’s _fame_ rests as much on his _Corado_,
_Niger_, _King Saul_, and _Orosmane_ as on his _Othello_--and in all of
those parts he was finer than he was in _Othello_. Salvini, Irving, and
Booth were not “one-part actors,” nor does their fame rest on any one
performance, nor should the credit for their achievement be given to any
author, director, or stage manager--or to anybody but themselves. Booth,
Irving, and Salvini were stage directors and managers, and though they
did not write the parts which they acted, they certainly arranged them,
and as to some of them they supplied vital suggestions. The character
of _Mathias_, in “The Bells,” for instance, was completely reconstructed
by Leopold Lewis, _at Irving’s suggestion_, to adapt it to his
mysterious personality and peculiarities of style. _Lord Dundreary_,
when first given to Sothern by Laura Keene, was a wretched part, about
seventeen lines in length,--“a dyed-up old man” she called it, asking
him to accept it,--but the comedian eventually expanded it till it
dominated the play, and it is fair to say that, _literally_, he
“created” it.
THE FACTS ABOUT JEFFERSON’S _RIP_.
Jefferson was a youth when he was first attracted to the part of _Rip
Van Winkle_. He had seen it played by his half-brother, Charles St.
Thomas Burke, who was esteemed by his contemporaries a great comedian,
and had acted in the play with him, as _Seth_. He has himself told me
that long before he attained a position in which he could publicly
assume it he frequently made up for it and rehearsed it in private. The
play that he at first used was one Burke had made, which Jefferson
tinkered and improved. There were at least ten plays on the subject in
existence _before_ Jefferson ever appeared as _Rip_, and eight recorded
performers of that part. The first _Rip_ was Thomas Flynn, the second
was Charles B. Parsons; both of them acted it in 1828,--a year before
Jefferson was born. Their successors were William B. Chapman, 1829;
James Henry Hackett, 1830; Frederick Henry Yates, 1831; William
Isherwood, 1833-’34; Joseph Jefferson, the second (our Jefferson’s
father), about 183(8?), and Charles Burke, 1849-’50, or earlier.
Jefferson first acted _Rip_ at Caruso’s Hall, in Washington, in 1859,
and he continued to act it for forty-five years. I first saw him in it,
in the season of 1859-’60, at the Winter Garden Theatre, New York, and
was deeply impressed by his performance, which almost ever since I have
extolled in the press as one of the greatest pieces of acting that have
been seen in our time. Down to 1865, Hackett, by birth a Hollander, was
highly esteemed as _Rip_, but neither he nor either of the actors above
mentioned was ever “just as famous” in it as Jefferson became, though
“Fate” had thrown it in their way long before that deity had thrown it
in his. His achievement has been more or less disparaged ever since he
first won the public suffrage in it. His success has been ascribed to
almost anything except the real cause,--for example, to Chance, to
“Fate,” to Dion Boucicault, and to me,--which is mere nonsense.
Jefferson’s wonderful artistic triumph as _Rip Van Winkle_ was due to
just one person--_himself_. He would have gained it if all the persons
who have been credited with “making him” had never lived. His
impersonation was entirely his own conception and construction--a work
of pure genius. The play that Boucicault, in 1865, in London, made for
him, on the basis of the old version which he had used for more than six
years, was largely fashioned after suggestions _made by Jefferson
himself_, the most important of which being that in the mysterious,
supernatural midnight scene on the lonely mountain top the ghosts should
remain silent and only the man should speak. Jefferson had the soul of a
poet, the mind of a dreamer, the eye of a painter, the imagination and
heart of a genius, and he was a consummate actor. As an executant in
acting he operated with exquisite precision, and his art was infiltrated
with light, geniality, and humor. “It is to the author, the director,
the stage manager that the true credit of the creation belongs,” writes
Belasco, himself an author, a director, and a stage manager, and
therefore not an altogether impartial witness; forgetful, also, that
Jefferson was experienced in all those callings. The author of a play
provides _the soul_ of a part, the actor provides _the body_ and
vitalizes it with all his being, and shapes and adorns it, _revealing_
the soul, with all his art:
“But by the mighty _actor_ brought,
Illusion’s _perfect_ triumphs come,--
Verse ceases to be airy thought,
And Sculpture to be dumb!”
Jefferson used only the skeleton of the story of _Rip Van Winkle_ as
told by Washington Irving, in “The Sketch Book” (1819): the character,
as he portrayed it, is quite different from the commonplace sot
designated by Irving. As to Boucicault’s version of the play--that
dramatist disparaged it, did not believe in it, and actually assured
Jefferson, just before the curtain rose on its first performance
(September 4, 1865, at the Adelphi Theatre, London), that it would
_fail_; and after he had seen Jefferson’s performance he said to that
comedian, “You are shooting over their heads,” to which Jefferson
answered, “I am not even shooting _at_ their heads--I am shooting _at
their hearts_.” He hit them. Later, Boucicault discovered what Jefferson
meant (he could see a church by daylight as well as another!), and paid
him the compliment of devising for himself an Irish _Rip Van Winkle_,
under the name of _Conn, the Shaughraun_, which he admirably acted, as
nearly as he could, in Jefferson’s spirit and manner. “Jefferson,”
writes Belasco, “was the _Yankee_ personating the Dutchman.” Another
mistake. “Yankee” is an epithet of disparagement which the British
contemptuously applied to the rural inhabitants of New England in the
time of the American Revolutionary War. Jefferson did not possess _any_
of either the physical or mental qualities of a New Englander. He was of
English, Scotch, and French lineage. His grandfather was a Yorkshire
man; his father a Pennsylvanian; his mother a French lady (born in the
Island of San Domingo); himself a native of Philadelphia--and no more a
“Yankee” than J. A. Herne was, whose lineage was Irish, who was born at
Cohoes, New York, and whose performance of _Rip_ (a respectable one) was
based in part on Jefferson and in part on Hackett. It is idle to
disparage Jefferson as _Rip Van Winkle_. That impersonation will live in
theatrical history when all the Hernes, McWades, etc., are lost in
oblivion!
A LEADING LADY IN A PET.
Prior to presentment of “The Millionaire’s Daughter” (May 19, 1879) at
the Baldwin Theatre Maguire had made a contract requiring production
there, on May 24 and 25, of a play entitled “Cupid’s Lawsuit”: the
prosperous though not protracted career of Belasco’s melodrama was,
accordingly, interrupted on those dates and resumed on the 26th; it
ended on June 1. June 2 was signalized by the
[Illustration: JOSEPH JEFFERSON AS _RIP VAN WINKLE_
“Und see, I come back, und my vife is gon’ und my home is gon’. My
home is gon’, und my chil’--my chil’ look in my face und don’ know
who I am!”
--Act V.
Photograph by Sarony.
Author’s Collection.]
primary appearance in San Francisco, made at the Baldwin, of the
dashing, sparkling actress Rose Coghlan, then in the flush of opulent
beauty and the pride of bounteous success. Miss Coghlan came to the
American Stage when she was a girl of twenty, performing at Wallack’s
Theatre, New York (the Thirteenth Street House), September 2, 1872, as
_Mrs. Honeyton_, in “A Happy Pair,” and in association with the Lydia
Thompson Troupe, as _Jupiter_, in a revival of “Ixion; or, The Man at
the Wheel.” She played many parts during the ensuing seven
years,--gaining a memorable triumph at Wallack’s, September 21, 1878, as
_Lady Teazle_, when “The School for Scandal” was revived there with a
cast including John Gilbert as _Sir Peter_, John Brougham as _Sir
Oliver_, Mme. Ponisi as _Mrs. Candor_, and Charles F. Coghlan as
_Charles Surface_. Miss Coghlan’s emergence on the California Stage was
an event which inspired eager public interest. She had been engaged by
Maguire (who paid her $500 a week for her services, a large salary at
any time and an immense one in those days) in compliance with the
fervent importunity of Belasco, and the latter was somewhat disconcerted
at finding her attitude toward him that of arrogant disdain. “Maguire
brought her to the stage, for the first rehearsal,” Belasco has said,
describing to me their meeting: “and she took her stand near the stage
manager’s table, where I sat. I rose to greet her, but she looked _over_
me, _past_ me, and _through_ me; then she turned to Maguire and asked if
she might meet the stage manager. I was introduced to her, and at last
she condescended to _see_ me. ’What!’ she exclaimed: ’this _boy_ to be
my director, after I have come from Wallack’s! Never!’ It was rather an
embarrassing situation for me, but I had had too much experience of the
ways of leading ladies to take offence. ’Is it possible,’ she continued,
’that men like James O’Neill and Lewis Morrison act under the direction
of a _boy_! For my part, I won’t do it!’--and she turned toward where
Maguire had been standing, only to find that he had slipped
away,--delighted with my predicament,--leaving me to deal as best I
could with the celebrated actress _I_ had induced him to engage! ’Miss
Coghlan,’ I said, ’I trust you will find our stage competently managed;
at any rate, we’ll try to please you: for my part, I shall be most
thankful for any suggestions you may be kind enough to favor me with,
and you will not, I assure you, find me anxious to impose upon you any
business that might conflict with your own conceptions.’ With that,
O’Neill and Morrison came in, together, and I introduced them and called
the First Act. Before the rehearsal
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony.
Belasco’s Collection.
ROSE COGHLAN
From an old photograph.
The Albert Davis Collection.
NINA VARIAN
About 1879, when they first acted in San Francisco, under Belasco’s
direction]
was over Miss Coghlan realized that, if I did look like a boy, I was not
quite the tyro she had supposed me to be; we were soon good friends, and
have always remained so.”
ROSE COGHLAN AND “THE MOONLIGHT MARRIAGE.”
Rose Coghlan began her season at the Baldwin as _Lady Gay Spanker_, in
“London Assurance,” with Nina Varian,--who, also, then made her first
appearance in San Francisco,--as _Grace Harkaway_, O’Neill as _Dazzle_,
and Morrison as _Charles Courtly_. During the four weeks that followed
Miss Coghlan was also seen in “The School for Scandal,” “A Sheep in
Wolf’s Clothing” and “A Scrap of Paper” (a double bill), a revival of
“The Danicheffs,” and “Seraphine; or, The Mother’s Secret.” On June 30
occurred the “first production of the powerful romantic play in five
tableaux, by D. Belasco and James A. Herne,” entitled “The Marriage by
Moonlight”: the performance on the opening night was given for the
benefit of Company B, First Infantry, N. G. C. This play was specially
prepared for Miss Coghlan: it was based on Watts Phillips’ “Camilla’s
Husband,”--which was originally acted at the Royal Olympic Theatre,
London, November 10, 1862. The Belasco and Herne alteration of it was
thus cast at the Baldwin:
_Lorraine_ James O’Neill.
_Felix_ Forrest M. Robinson.
_Harold_ Lewis Morrison.
_Lord Pippin_ John N. Long.
_Peeping Tom_ James A. Herne.
_Clarisse_ Rose Coghlan.
_Hazel_ Katherine Corcoran.
_Lady Challoner_ Kate Denin.
_Lady Aurelia_ Blanche Thorne.
_Elise_ Mollie Revel.
On June 16 Lester Wallack, acting _Hugh Chalcotte_, in “Ours,” began, at
the California Theatre, his only engagement in San Francisco. Miss
Coghlan (who was to appear as a member of his theatrical company during
the season of 1879-1880) apprised him of the merits of “The Marriage by
Moonlight” (or “The Moonlight Marriage,” as, finally, it was
denominated), and, after witnessing a performance of that play, Wallack
expressed a desire to purchase it for representation at his New York
theatre, with Miss Coghlan in the central character. Herne, however, had
conceived a tentative plan of making this play the vehicle for a
co-starring venture, in the East, by his wife and himself, and Wallack’s
proposal was declined. Herne entertained an overweening, if natural,
estimate of his wife’s histrionic abilities. Belasco, in his “Story,”
referring to Augustin Daly’s well-known play of “Divorce,” gives this
sketch of their early acquaintance:
“The manuscript arrived, but we had no one to play the woman’s
part, when a young girl came into the theatre and asked to see Mr.
Herne. Her name was Katherine Corcoran. When she was ushered in we
saw at a glance that we had found the heroine of ’Divorce.’ It
required a _petite_ woman, full of fascination, charm, intensity,
and with the power to weep. Of course, we did not know her
capacities, but she seemed full of promise. She was engaged at
once. When the time came for rehearsals she went quietly through
them,--an alien not particularly welcome to the company. ’Who is
she?’ they all asked, and the leading man came to Herne and myself,
and laid before us the numerous complaints he was receiving. As it
was very obvious that Herne was in love with her, and so likely to
be prejudiced, Maguire turned to me. ’She is going to make a
sensation,’ I said; ’I’ll stake my life on it.’ And she did,
becoming one of the big elements in our support and quite winning
the players. It was not long before she and Herne were married....
No one ever owed more to a woman than he to little ’K. C.’”
This recollection must refer not to the first San Francisco production
of “Divorce” (as Belasco says it does) but to a revival of that play.
Miss Corcoran was a pupil of Miss Julia Melville as late as 1877; she
gained her first experience as an actress in a stock company at
Portland, Oregon, and she joined the company at the Baldwin Theatre,
about September-October, 1877. She was married to Herne in April, 1878.
The first presentment of “Divorce” in San Francisco occurred at
Maguire’s New Theatre, August 31, 1874. The purpose of attempting to
make Miss Corcoran a star in Miss Coghlan’s part in “The Moonlight
Marriage” and the consequent rejection of Wallack’s offer were
injudicious in themselves and certainly disadvantageous to Belasco: had
that offer been accepted, he might have been established in New York
much sooner than he was.--The manuscript of “The Moonlight Marriage” was
ultimately consumed in a fire which destroyed the Herne home, called
Herne Oaks, at Southampton, Long Island, New York, December 11, 1909.
After four performances of “The Moonlight Marriage” had been given at
the Baldwin it was suspended, in order to permit J. C. Williamson and
his wife, “Maggie” Moore, to fulfil an engagement there,--which they
did, presenting “Struck Oil” and “The Chinese Question” July 4 and
(afternoon as well as night) 5. The Belasco and Herne drama was restored
to the stage July 6 and ran till the 12th. On Sunday night, the 13th, a
performance was given at the Baldwin, “for the benefit of Belasco and
Herne,”--both “The Moonlight Marriage” and “Rip Van Winkle” being
compressed into the entertainment.
“L’ASSOMMOIR” AND A DOUBLE-BARRELLED BENEFIT.
The state of theatrical affairs in San Francisco had been for a
considerable time prior to midsummer, 1879, steadily declining, and
conditions at the Baldwin had become equivocal and perplexing. E. J.
Baldwin was actively at variance with Maguire, whose formal lease of the
theatre had expired on the preceding July 1, and the house was being
conducted, in “a hand to mouth” way, under some dubious arrangement of
expediency between Maguire and Charles L. Gardner. Heavy debts had been
contracted and credit had been exhausted. “That ’benefit,’” Belasco has
declared to me, “was urgently needed! Maguire was, among other things,
an inveterate gambler and would often stake every dollar the treasury
contained. Then, if luck went against him, he’d come and tell us
salaries could not be paid, because he had lost! The salaries _were_
paid,--out of ’Lucky’ Baldwin’s pocket. But he had grown tired of
backing a losing game and, besides, he and Maguire had had some special
row,--I don’t now remember what it was about,--and Baldwin had withdrawn
his support. Expenses were very high: Miss Coghlan’s engagement had ’run
on’ and her $500 a week was a heavy drag: Herne and I had an interest,
and we simply had to have some ready money to keep us going,--so I
suggested a double-barrelled ’benefit’ as a way of getting it.”
A particular reason for solicitude when this Belasco-Herne “benefit” was
projected was urgent desire to insure Rose Coghlan’s appearance--which
had been advertised--as _Gervaise_, in a play called “L’Assommoir.”
Émile Zola’s noxious novel of that name was published, in Paris, in
1878, and a stage synopsis of it, made by W. Bushnach and---- Gastineau,
was produced, January 18, 1879, at the Théâtre Ambigu-Comique. It is
interesting to note that Augustin Daly, who chanced to be in the French
capital soon afterward, witnessed a performance of it and, in a letter
written to his brother, the late Joseph Francis Daly, under date of
January 30, described it in these words:
“‘L’Assommoir’ is a disgusting piece,--one prolonged sigh, from
first to last, over the miseries of the poor, with a dialogue
culled from the lowest slang and tritest claptrap. It gave me no
points that I could use, and the only novelty in it was in the
_lavoir_ scene, where two washwomen (the heroine and her rival)
throw pails of warm water (actually) over each other and stand
dripping before the audience.”
Notwithstanding his correctly adverse opinion of “L’Assommoir” Daly was
induced, in deference to the wish of his father-in-law, John Duff, to
buy the American copyright of the work (for which he paid £200,
furnished by Duff), and to make a version of it, considerably
denaturized,--in five acts, containing twelve tableaux,--which he
produced at the Olympic Theatre, New York, April 30, 1879. It was a
complete failure. (The only memorable incident associated with that
production is that in it, as _Big Clémence_, Ada Rehan, the supreme
comedy actress of her day, made her first appearance under the
management of Daly.) On June 2 an adaptation of the French play, made by
Charles Reade, was brought out at the Princess’ Theatre, London,--which,
because of the extraordinarily effective acting in it of Charles Warner
(1847-1909), as _Coupeau_, achieved immediate and, unhappily, enduring
success. Maguire, reading in a newspaper dispatch of that London
success, undeterred by Daly’s New York failure (perhaps stimulated by
it), had at once asked Belasco to make a play on the subject for the
Baldwin Theatre. This, as soon as “The Moonlight Marriage” was launched,
Belasco had done,--basing his drama on an English translation of Zola’s
book and completing his work within one week. All concerned were hopeful
that this new drama of violent sensation would please the popular taste
and serve to set the Baldwin once more in the path of prosperity. It was
presented at that theatre July 15, 1879, and it was sufficiently
successful to gain and hold public interest for two weeks,--a result due
in part to the excellent acting with which it was illustrated, in part
to the dexterity of Belasco’s exacting stage management. A single
comparative incident is significantly suggestive: in Daly’s New York
production the fall of _Coupeau_ from a ladder was, palpably, made by
substituting a dummy figure for the actor who played the part: in
Belasco’s San Francisco presentment the fall of _Coupeau_ was so
skilfully managed that, on the opening night, it was for several moments
supposed by the audience that an actual accident had occurred. This was
the cast:
_Coupeau_ James O’Neill.
_Lantier_ Lewis Morrison.
_Mes Bottes_ C. B. Bishop.
_Bibi-La-Grillade_ James A. Herne.
_Bec-Sali_ John N. Long.
_Pere Bazonge_ John W. Jennings.
_Goujet_ Forrest Robinson.
_Gervaise_ Rose Coghlan.
_Big Virginie_ Lillian Andrews.
_Mme. Boche_ Jean Clara Walters.
_Mme. Lorieleaux_ Mollie Revel.
_Nana_ Katherine Corcoran.
_Clémence_ Blanche Thorn.
A HOT WATER REHEARSAL.
Talking with me about this play, Belasco remarked: “We had a lively time
getting that piece licked into shape and produced. The cast was,
practically, an ’all star’ one (far finer, I know, than I could get
together to-day), several of the members having been specially engaged,
and it took a good deal of diplomacy to keep things tranquil and
everybody contented. I remember I had an even more disagreeable passage
with Lillian Andrews (who had been brought in to play _Big Virginie_)
than that at my first meeting with Miss Coghlan. The Washhouse Scene was
a hard one--you couldn’t fool with it; the only way to make it go was to
_do_ it!--and at the dress rehearsal Miss Andrews refused point-blank to
go through it as it was to be done at night. Both she and Miss Coghlan
were under dressed with close-fitting rubber suits to keep them dry;
but, even so, it was no fun to be drenched with hot soapy water, and I
was sorry for them. But, of course, the scene had to be properly and
fully rehearsed, and the upshot was I had to tell Miss Andrews she must
do her business as directed or leave the company. And, after a grand
row, we had the scene as it was to be at night. She and Coghlan and
everybody concerned were in such tempers by the time I finished reading
the riot act that everything was marvellously realistic; I doubt whether
it was ever quite so well done at a public performance!”
Belasco’s “L’Assommoir” ran until July 30, when Miss Coghlan ended her
season in San Francisco. On the 31st Steele Mackaye’s “Won at Last” was
first performed at the Baldwin; and, on August 11, came little Lotta, in
“Musette,” “La Cigale,” and other plays, her engagement extending to
September 6.
THE PLAY OF “CHUMS.”
While thus employed at the Baldwin Theatre,--that is, at some time
between May and August, 1879,--Belasco was asked by James O’Neill to
write a play for his use and that of Lewis Morrison (1844-1906), his
intimate friend, and he had begun the adaptation of an old drama, which
he purposed to entitle “Chums.” His original intention was that this
should be produced with O’Neill and Morrison in the chief parts (those
actors being desirous of leaving the Baldwin Theatre stock company and
establishing themselves, under a joint business management, as
co-stars); but he had made no contract nor even mentioned his project,
and when, later, his adapted play, then incomplete, by chance became
[Illustration:
Photograph by Taber, San Francisco.
Courtesy Mrs. Morrison.
LEWIS MORRISON
Photograph by Sarony.
Belasco’s Collection.
JAMES O’NEILL
About 1880]
known to Mr. and Mrs. Herne, with whom he was closely associated, he
acceded to a proposal which they made to form a partnership with them
for its production. Herne, who had first appeared in California in 1868,
was then well established in popular favor; moreover,--notwithstanding
that most of the actual labor of stage management devolved on
Belasco,--authoritative control of the Baldwin stage and, to a great
extent, selection of the plays to be represented at that theatre were
vested in Herne. His coöperation, therefore, was desirable, if, indeed,
it was not essential; he became a co-worker with Belasco, and between
them the play was finished. During the engagement of Lotta Herne
arranged for a tour of Pacific Slope towns by O’Neill and Morrison,
leading the Baldwin Dramatic Company, beginning at Sacramento, Sunday,
September 7, in a repertory which comprised “Diplomacy,” “A Woman of the
People,” “Pink Dominos,” “Won at Last,” “L’Assommoir,” and “Within an
Inch of His Life,” thus leaving the way clear for rehearsal and
production of “Chums.” Belasco and the Hernes were expectant of great
success for this play. Handsome scenery had been painted for it, and
ample provision had been made for the display of those accessories which
please the public taste for what is known as “realism.” The prospect
seemed bright. The first performance occurred on September 9, 1879, at
the Baldwin Theatre, Katharine Corcoran (Mrs. Herne) taking a benefit.
The result was a bitter disappointment. The receipts were extremely
small (“I remember,” writes Belasco, “that, one night, they were only
$17.50!”), and after a disheartening run of two weeks “Chums” was
withdrawn,--being succeeded by O’Neill and Morrison, in a revival of
“Won at Last.” This was the San Francisco cast of “Chums”:
_Terry Dennison_} The Chums { James A. Herne.
_Ruby Darrell_ } { W. H. Haverstraw.
_Uncle Davy_ J. W. Jennings.
_Owen Garroway_ Charles B. Bishop.
_Mr. Ellingham_ A. D. Bradley.
_Foreman of the Mill_ H. Thompson.
_Clerk of the Mill_ Mr. Pierce.
_Mr. Parker_ E. Ambrose.
_Tom_ J. W. Thompson.
_Sleuth_ L. Paul.
_Chrystal_ Katherine Corcoran.
_Aunt Betsy_ Annie A. Adams.
_Little Chrystal_ Maude Adams.
_The Baby_ Herself.
By this decisive failure Herne was much discouraged. Not so either
Belasco or Mrs. Herne, and on a suggestion made by the latter it was
determined to take the play on a tour into the East. “I took a benefit
at the Baldwin,” Belasco told me, “and it _was_ a benefit! Everybody
volunteered; Maguire [the manager of the Baldwin] gave us the use of the
theatre; the actors gave their services; the orchestra gave theirs; the
newspapers gave the ’ads.’ All that came in was clear gain, and I got a
little more than $3,000. That was our working capital.”
FROM SAN FRANCISCO TO CHICAGO.
With money thus raised on Belasco’s behalf, and with a play projected by
him, the business alliance was arranged,--the Hernes to have one-half
interest and Belasco the other. A company was engaged and the expedition
was undertaken,--the design being to act “Chums” in various cities on
the way to the Atlantic Seaboard, with hope of securing an opening in
New York and making a fortune. Ill luck, however, attended it. “Chums”
was played in Salt Lake City and other places, but everywhere in vain.
At last, the scenery having been seized for debt, the company was
disbanded and the partners, almost penniless, made their way to Chicago.
The chief managers in that city then were James Horace McVicker
(1822-1896) and Richard Martin Hooley (1822-1893). Both were besought
to produce “Chums” and both declined. “We were in a dreadful way,” said
Belasco, in telling me this story; “we had gone to the old Sherman House
and taken the smallest, cheapest rooms we could get, and Alvin Hurlbert,
the proprietor, had let our bills run. But at last they had run so long
we had to make an explanation,--and I did the explaining. It wasn’t an
easy thing to do,--though I’d done it before, in the early, wild days in
the West. But Hurlbert was very kind: ’I believe in you, my boy,’ he
said, ’and it’s all right,’--so we had a little more time to hustle in.
And we _hustled_! By chance Herne and I went into a kind of beer-garden,
called the Coliseum, kept by John Hamlin. There was a stage, and “Fred”
Wren, in “On Time,” was giving impersonations of German character,--sort
of imitation of J. K. Emmet in ’Fritz.’ The ’business’ was bad; there
weren’t thirty people in the house when Herne and I chanced in. I
immediately proposed to Hamlin that we bring out ’Chums,’ which we had
renamed ’Hearts of Oak.’ He agreed to let us have the theatre, but
Hamlin had no money to invest, so we had to get a production and
assemble a company, all without a cent of capital! However, we got
credit in one place or another, and did it,--a production costing
thousands, on credit, and without a dollar of our own in it! We had a
big success, although Hamlin’s Coliseum wasn’t much of a place.”
“HEARTS OF OAK.”
“Hearts of Oak” (“Chums”) is based on a melodrama called “The Mariner’s
Compass,” by an English dramatist, Henry Leslie (1829-1881), which was
first produced at Astley’s Theatre, London, in 1865, under the
management of that wonderfully enterprising person Edward Tyrrell Smith
(1804-1877), and was first acted in America, at the New Bowery Theatre,
New York, May 22, that year,--with Edward Eddy as _Silas Engleheart_,
the prototype of _Terry Dennison_, and Mrs. W. G. Jones as _Hetty
Arnold_, the prototype of _Chrystal_. It was announced in Chicago as
“Herne’s and Belasco’s American Play, in Five Acts and Six Tableaux,”
and it was first produced there on November 17, 1879, at Hamlin’s
Theatre,--I find no authority for calling it the Coliseum, but my
records of Chicago theatres in that period are meagre,--with this
cast,--Mrs. Herne (Katherine Corcoran) then making her first appearance
in that city:
_Terry Dennison_ James A. Herne.
_Ruby Darrell_ Harry Mainhall.
_Uncle Davy_ William H. Crompton.
_Mr. Ellingham_ David Belasco.
_Owen Garroway_ Frank K. Pierce.
_Foreman of the Mill_ William A. Lavalle.
_Clerk of the Mill_ William Lawrence.
_Will Barton_ Lillie Hamilton.
_Chrystal_ Katherine Corcoran.
_Aunt Betsy_ Rose Watson.
_Little Chrystal_ Alice Hamilton.
_Tawdrey_ Dollie Hamilton.
_Mr. Parker_ J. A. Andrews.
_Tom_ J. Sherman.
_Sleuth_ T. Gossman.
_The Baby_ Herself
After its production at Hamlin’s Theatre,--designated by Belasco as “a
big success,”--“Hearts of Oak” was taken on a tour, but was presently
brought back to Chicago, and on March 15, 1880, it was presented at
Hooley’s Theatre, where it was again received with public favor. In the
meantime the fact that it was in a considerable degree a variant of an
English play of earlier date had been perceived and made known, and
Hamlin, offended and resentful because Herne and Belasco, returning to
Chicago, had chosen to appear at Hooley’s instead of coming back to him,
announced a revival of the earlier play,--Leslie’s “The Mariner’s
Compass,”--with the title of “Hearts of Oak.” A suit at law followed,
the ultimate decision being that “The Mariner’s Compass,” unprotected by
American copyright, was free to any person in the United States who
might choose to use it, irrespective of its author’s moral rights, but
that the title of “Hearts of Oak” was owned by Herne and Belasco, in
association with their play, and could not lawfully be associated with
another. The inimical purpose of Hamlin was thus, in a measure,
defeated, but Belasco’s troubles did not stop there. Herne evinced much
displeasure on learning that Belasco’s play, on which he had co-labored,
was not strictly original. An alleged ground of Herne’s displeasure was
the lawsuit. “Why didn’t you tell me about “The Mariner’s Compass’?” he
said, reproaching Belasco: “_now_ I’ve a damned lawsuit on my hands!”
“Well,” Belasco rejoined, “I don’t see why I should have told you
anything about the old play; and, anyway, I don’t see what you have to
complain about. You ought to be mighty glad you’ve got a half-interest
in something worth a lawsuit to protect,--and you haven’t got the suit
on _your_ hands any more than I have on _mine_!” The actual ground of
Herne’s dissatisfaction, judging by his subsequent treatment of Belasco,
probably was his realization that, if he had, in the first place, been
made acquainted with “The Mariner’s Compass,” he could himself have
adapted that play to his own use without forming a partnership with
anybody.
FIRST VENTURE IN NEW YORK.
The success gained in Chicago and other cities relieved the
Belasco-Herne triumvirate from immediate pecuniary embarrassment, and
notwithstanding the existence of a latent and growing antagonism the
path to fortune seemed to have opened for them. From Chicago, after two
weeks at Hooley’s Theatre, those managers carried their play to New
York, an opening having been obtained through the agency of Brooks &
Dickson (Joseph Brooks [1849-1916] and James B---- Dickson, now [1917]
business manager for Robert B. Mantell), and “Hearts of Oak” was
presented, for the first time in the metropolis, March 29, 1880, at the
New Fifth Avenue Theatre, then opened under the management of Edward E.
Rice and Jacob Nunnemacher. This was the cast:
_Terry Dennison_ James A. Herne.
_Ruby Darrell_ Harry Mainhall.
_Uncle Davy_ William H. Crompton.
_Mr. Ellingham_ J. W. Dean.
_Owen Garroway_ H. M. Brown.
_Foreman of the Mill_ J. S. Andrews.
_Clerk of the Mill_ William Lawrence.
_Will Barton_ Lillie Hamilton.
_Chrystal_ Katherine Corcoran.
_Aunt Betsy_ Henrietta Bert Osborne.
_Little Chrystal_ Alice Hamilton.
_Tawdrey_ Dollie Hamilton.
_Mr. Parker_ Mr. Harvey.
_Tom_ J. Sherman.
_Sleuth_ T. Gossman.
_The Baby_ Herself.
JAMES ALFRED HERNE.
James Alfred Herne (1839-1901) has been incorrectly and injudiciously
vaunted as a great, original, representative American dramatist. The
claim is preposterous. Herne was not a dramatist, he was a playwright
(that is, a mechanic, a _maker_ of plays, mechanically, from stock
material, precisely as a wheelwright is a maker of wheels), and as a
playwright he was less distinctive than as an actor. He adopted the
latter vocation in youth, first as an amateur, then as a member of a
stock company, making his first professional appearance at a theatre in
Troy, New York. He obtained good training. He participated in
performances of standard plays with some of the best actors who have
graced the American Stage,--among them James Booth Roberts (1818-1901),
Edward Loomis Davenport (1815-1877), and the younger James William
Wallack (1818-1873). He did not possess a tithe of the power and
versatility of Davenport, but he was deeply affected by the influence
of that noble actor, and he played several parts in close imitation of
him,--notably _Sikes_, in “Oliver Twist.” His dramatic instinct was
keen, but his mind was not imaginative and the natural bent of it was
toward prosy literalism. He was early, strongly, and continuously
dominated by the literal methods and the humanitarian and reformatory
spirit of the novels of Dickens. He liked the utilitarian and
matter-of-fact embellishments with which some of those novels abound,
and he was attracted by such characters as _Peggotty_, a part which he
acted and of which his performance was creditable. As an actor he aimed
to be photographic, he copied actual life in commonplace aspects as
closely as he could, and often he was slow, dull, and tedious. As a
playwright he was deficient in the faculty of invention and in the
originality of characterization. He tinkered the plays of other writers,
always with a view to the enhancement or introduction of graphic
situations. The principal plays with which his name is associated are
“Hearts of Oak,” “Drifting Apart,” “Sag Harbor,” “Margaret Fleming,”
“Shore Acres,” and “The Rev. Griffith Davenport.” “Hearts of Oak” is
Belasco’s revamp of “The Mariner’s Compass,” modified and expanded. The
characters in it are not American: they are transformed English
characters. It was not Herne’s plan, it was Belasco’s, to rehabilitate
the earlier play by Leslie, shift the places of the action, shuffle the
scenes, change the names of the persons, introduce incidents from other
plays, add unusual “stage effects,” and so manufacture something that
might pass for a novelty. In reply to a question of mine as to Herne’s
share in the making of “Hearts of Oak,” Belasco said “he did _a lot of
good work_ on it,” and when I asked for specification of that work I was
told “he introduced a lot of _Rip Van Winkle_ stuff.” “Drifting Apart”
is based on an earlier play, called “Mary, the Fisherman’s Daughter.”
“Sag Harbor” is a variant of “Hearts of Oak.” “Margaret Fleming” is
mainly the work of Mrs. Herne, and is one of those crude and completely
ineffectual pieces of hysterical didacticism which are from time to time
produced on the stage with a view to the dismay of libertines by an
exhibition of some of the evil consequences of licentious conduct. In
that play a righteously offended wife bares her bosom to the public gaze
in order to suckle a famished infant, of which her dissolute husband is
the father by a young woman whom he has seduced, betrayed, and abandoned
to want and misery: libertines, of course, are always reformed by
spectacles of that kind! (This incident, by the way, occurs, under other
circumstances, in the fourth chapter of “Hide and Seek,” by Wilkie
Collins, published in 1854.) “The Rev. Griffith Davenport” was deduced
from a novel called “The Unofficial Patriot,” by Helen H. Gardner.
“Shore Acres” is, in its one vital dramatic ingredient, derived from a
play by Frank Murdoch, called “The Keepers of Lighthouse Cliff,”--in
which Herne had acted years before “Shore Acres” was written. It
incorporates, also, many of the real stage properties and much of the
stage business,--the real supper, etc.,--used in “Hearts of Oak.” Its
climax is the quarrel of the brothers _Martin_ and _Nathan’l Berry_, the
suddenly illumined beacon, kindled by _Uncle Nat_, and the hairbreadth
escape of the imperilled ship,--taken, without credit, from Murdoch’s
drama. Herne localized his plays in America and, to a certain extent,
treated American subjects, but he made no addition to American Drama,
and his treatment of the material that he “borrowed” or adapted never
rose above respectable mediocrity. It was as an actor that he gained
repute and merited commemoration. He was early impressed by the example
of Joseph Jefferson and was emulative of him: he appeared in Jefferson’s
most famous character, _Rip Van Winkle_, but he did not evince a
particle of that innate charm, that imaginative, spiritual quality,
which irradiated Jefferson’s impersonation of the pictorial vagabond
and exalted it into the realm of the poetic ideal. Herne earnestly
wished for a part in which he might win a popularity and opulence in
some degree commensurate with those obtained by Jefferson as _Rip Van
Winkle_: he eventually found it, or something like it, in _Terry
Dennison_, in “Hearts of Oak,” which he acted, far and wide, for many
years, and by which he accumulated a fortune of about $250,000. The
influence of his acting, at its best, was humanitarian and in that
respect highly commendable.--On April 3, 1878, Herne and Katherine
Corcoran were wedded, in San Francisco,--that being Herne’s second
marriage. His first wife was Helen Western. He was a native of Cohoes,
New York. The true name of this actor was James Ahearn, which, when he
adopted the profession of the Stage, he changed to James A. Herne. It is
given in the great register of San Francisco as James Alfred Herne. His
death occurred, June 2, 1901, at No. 79 Convent Avenue, near 145th
Street, New York.
ANALYSIS OF “HEARTS OF OAK.”
I remember the first performance of “Hearts of Oak” in New York. The
play was a patchwork of hackneyed situations and incidents, culled and
refurbished from such earlier plays as “Little Em’ly,” “Rip Van Winkle,”
“Leah the Forsaken,” and “Enoch Arden.” Some of those situations were
theatrically effective, and the quality of the fabric was instinct with
tender feeling. The articulation of the parts, meaning the mechanism,
indicated, to some extent, an expert hand,--which unquestionably its
chief manipulator, Belasco, possessed, and which he has since more amply
shown. The element of picture, however, exceeded that of action, and the
element of commonplace realism, manifested partly in the drawing of
character, partly in the dialogue, and largely in the accessories and
stage business, was so excessive as to be tiresome. Real water, real
beans, real boiled potatoes, and various other ingredients of a real
supper, together with a real cat and a real (and much discontented)
baby, were among the real objects employed in the representation. Such
things, particularly when profusely used in a play, are injurious to
dramatic effect, because they concentrate attention on themselves and
distract it from the subject and the action to be considered.
Accessories should blend into the investiture of a play and not be
excrescences upon it. There is, however, a large public that likes to
see on the stage such real objects as it customarily sees in the
dwelling or the street,--a real fireplace,
[Illustration:
From a photograph by (Stevens?). The Albert Davis Collection.
JAMES A. HERNE]
a real washtub, a real dog, a real horse, all the usual trappings of
actual life: that is the public which finds its chief artistic pleasure
in _recognition_. It was present on many occasions during the career of
“Hearts of Oak,” and with this plethora of real and commonplace objects
it was much pleased.
In the story of “Hearts of Oak” a young man, _Ruby Darrell_, and a young
woman, _Chrystal_ (_Dennison?_), who love each other and wish to wed,
privately agree to abnegate themselves in order that the young woman may
marry their guardian and benefactor, _Terry Dennison_, out of gratitude
to him. This immoral marriage is accomplished and in time the wife
becomes a mother. In time, also, the injured guardian discovers,--what,
if he had possessed even ordinary discernment, he would have discovered
in the beginning,--that his wife’s affections are fixed on _Darrell_.
The miserable _Dennison_ then goes away, after privately arranging that
if he does not return within five years _Darrell_ shall wed with
_Chrystal_. Six years pass; _Dennison_ is reported to have perished at
sea in the wreck of a Massachusetts ship, and _Chrystal_ and _Ruby_
erect a churchyard monument to his memory. Then _Chrystal_, believing
herself to be a widow, marries her lover. But the desolate husband is
not dead; he reappears, blind, destitute and wretched, on the wedding
day, and in a colloquy with his child, outside of the church within
which the marriage is being solemnized and seated on the base of his
memorial among the graves, he ascertains the existent circumstances and
presently expires, while his wife and little daughter pitifully minister
to him as to a stranger. The misery and pathos of the experience and
situation are obvious. It is also obvious that, in the fulfilment of a
central purpose to create a situation and depict a character instinct
with misery and pathos, the element of probability was disregarded. The
chief part is that of the injured, afflicted, suffering guardian, who,
as a dramatic character, is a variant of _Enoch Arden_ and _Harebell_.
In acting _Dennison_, Herne, while often heavy and monotonous, gained
sympathy and favor by the simplicity of his demeanor, his facile
assumption of manliness, and his expert simulation of deep feeling; but
he did nothing that had not been done before, and much better done, by
other actors,--in particular, by Edwin Adams in _Enoch Arden_, and by
William Rufus Blake and Charles Fisher in _Peggotty_ and kindred parts,
of which the fibre is rugged manliness and magnanimity. Katherine
Corcoran, playing _Chrystal_, gave a performance that was interesting
more by personality than by art. She had not then been long on the
Stage. She was handsome, graceful, and winning, of slender figure, with
an animated, eagerly expressive face, blue-gray eyes, silky brown hair,
and a sweet voice. In calm moments and level speaking she was efficient.
In excitement her vocalism became shrill and her action spasmodic.
Scenery of more than common merit, painted by William Voegtlin, was
provided to embellish the play, at the Fifth Avenue Theatre. One
picture, in particular, representing a prospect of a tranquil seacoast,
was excellent in composition, true and fine in color, and poetic in
quality; another effectively portrayed a broad expanse of troubled sea,
darkening ominously under a sombre sky tumultuous with flying scud.
Herne somewhat improved the play in the course of his protracted
repetitions of it, after he parted from Belasco, but he always retained
in it the “real” trappings which Belasco had introduced. Both those
actors, as playwrights, were conjunctive in favor of “limbs and outward
flourishes,”--the “real tubs” of _Mr. Crummles_.
FAILURE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
The play, which without Belasco’s consent or knowledge was announced in
New York as “by James A. Herne” (mention being made, in the programme,
that it was remotely based on “The Mariner’s Compass,” but, practically,
was Herne’s original composition!), failed there. Belasco states, in his
“Story,” that it was produced in “the summer time,” and adds that
“notwithstanding the play’s success, we could not combat the intense
humidity.” That statement is incorrect. March is not summer, and it was
not “intense _humidity_” but intense _frost_ that could not be combated.
The business was further injured by the fact that Herne was on several
occasions incapacitated to appear, and Belasco replaced him as _Terry
Dennison_. The initial expenses had been heavy, the profit was soon
almost dissipated, the engagement was ended April 16, and, on going to
Philadelphia, to fulfil an engagement at Mrs. Drew’s Arch Street
Theatre, the partners quarrelled. Herne there expressed to Belasco his
opinion that the play was rubbish, that he was wasting his time by
acting in it, and proposed that Belasco should buy his half interest,
for $1,500, or that he should buy Belasco’s for the same
amount,--“knowing,” Belasco has told me, “that I had not drawn any of my
share of the profits, while there were any; that I had been living and
keeping my family, in San Francisco, on $50 a week (I was allowed that
and talked to all the time about ’the barrels of money “Dave” would have
at the end of the season’!), and also knowing that I didn’t have
fifteen hundred cents!” Herne, after profuse condemnation of the play
and harsh censure of Belasco, in which he was sustained by his business
associate, Frederick W. Burt, finally obtained Belasco’s signature to an
agreement to sell to Herne, for $1,500, all his half-interest in “Hearts
of Oak,” and so that play became Herne’s exclusive property. The
purchase money was not paid, but Herne gave a promissory note for it.
Later, realizing that he had acted imprudently, Belasco called on his
friend Mrs. John Drew, informed her of the business, and asked her
advice. That eminently practical lady was both sympathetic and
indignant. She commended him to her attorneys, Messrs. Shakespeare and
Devlin, and desired that they should see what could be done “for this
boy.” There was, however, little to do. “You are of age,” said Devlin,
“you’ve signed an agreement; you’ll have to stand by it,--but I’ll get
you the $1,500. The first thing is to find where Herne banks.” That
information was easily obtained, and Belasco and Devlin repaired to the
bank,--where they met Herne coming out, and where, a few moments later,
they were told that he had withdrawn his money and closed his account.
The $1,500 was not paid until several years later, when Belasco, then
employed at the Madison Square Theatre, New York, stated the facts to
Marshall H. Mallory, one of the managers of that house, and, with
assistance of his lawyers, obtained from Herne payment of the debt, with
interest.
SAN FRANCISCO AGAIN.
Meantime, Belasco had been left in a painful predicament. “I had,” he
told me, “quite honestly, but very extravagantly, painted our success in
brilliant colors when writing to my dear wife,--and there I was, in
Philadelphia, without enough money to pay my fare back to San Francisco,
and nobody to borrow from. I went, first, to New York, hoping to get
employment, but luck was against me--I could get nothing, and I spent
three nights on the benches in Union Square Park. I met Marcus Mayer, a
friend of mine, in the Park one morning, and he got part of my story
from me, lent me some money, and promised to try to help me further. But
I had to get to San Francisco, and as soon as he lent me a little money
I made up my mind to _start_. It took me eighteen days to make the trip,
but I did it,--paying what I could, persuading conductors and brakemen
to let me ride free, if only for a few miles, and, when I was put off,
stealing rides on anything that was going. I got there, but it was a
pretty wretched homecoming. I had to swallow any pride I had left and
go to work again at the Baldwin,--where I’d been stage manager and
playwright and amounted to something,--and where now I played
anything,--‘bits,’ mostly,--given me: I got only $25 a week.”
The story of Belasco’s venture with “Hearts of Oak” has been told
minutely for the reason that it involves his first determined effort to
break away from what he viewed as thraldom in the Theatre of San
Francisco, and make for himself a position in the metropolis of the
country. The failure of that effort was a bitter humiliation and
disappointment to him. It did not, however, weaken his purpose. After he
rejoined the Baldwin he was not long constrained to occupy a subservient
position.
BELASCO’S RECOLLECTIONS OF ADELAIDE NEILSON.
One of the associations of Belasco’s professional life much prized by
him is that with the lovely woman and great actress Adelaide Neilson.
Miss Neilson first appeared in San Francisco, March 10, 1874, at the
California Theatre, acting _Juliet_,--of which part she was the best
representative who has been seen within the last sixty years. During her
engagement at the California, which lasted till March 30, and in the
course of which she acted _Rosalind_, _Lady Teazle_, _Julia_, in “The
Hunchback,” and _Pauline_, in “The Lady of Lyons,” as well as _Juliet_,
Belasco was employed in the theatre, acting as an assistant to the
prompter, and participating as a super in all the plays that were
presented. “Little a thing as it is,” he has said to me, “I have always
been proud to remember that I danced with her, in the minuet, in ’Romeo
and Juliet,’ the first night she ever played in our city. I never saw
such wonderful eyes, or heard a voice so silver-toned, so full of
pathos, so rich and thrilling. I shall never forget how deeply affected
I was when, in the dance, for the first time I touched her hand and she
turned those wonderful eyes on _me_.”
When Belasco was re-employed at the Baldwin Miss Neilson was acting
there, in the second week of her farewell engagement, which began on
June 8. On July 17 that engagement closed, and one of the brightest yet
saddest of theatrical careers came to an end. Belasco, always closely
attentive to his stage duties, never depended on anybody but himself to
give the signals for raising and lowering the curtain, and, on that
night, he “rang down” on the last performance Adelaide Neilson ever
gave. The bill was the Balcony Scene, from “Romeo and Juliet,” and the
play of “Amy Robsart.” In the course of the performance Belasco, after
the Balcony Scene, went to assist her in descending from the elevated
platform and, as she came down, she laid a hand on his shoulder and
sprang to the stage,--losing a slipper as she did so. Belasco took it
up. “You may keep it,” she said, “for Rosemary,”--and, says Belasco,
“having thanked her I nailed it, then and there, to the wall by the
prompter’s stand and there it stayed, as a mascot, for years.” Referring
to that last night of her stage career, Belasco has written the
following reminiscence:
THE BLACK PEARL.
“Like other stars of the day, Miss Neilson expressed a desire to
give every member of her company a memento. I was waiting at the
green-room door to escort her to the hotel, when she called me into
her dressing-room. ’You are so weird and mysterious, and perhaps I
may never see you again. Look over those things and choose
something for yourself.’ On her dressing-room table she had piled
all her wonderful jewels, a fortune of immense value. I remember
that her maid, a little deformed woman, stood by me as I hesitated.
’Yes, to bring you luck,’ she replied and there was a faint chuckle
in her throat. Rubies, diamonds, emeralds--they dazzled my eyes. I
finally reached forward and picked a black pearl. I said, ’I’ll
take this.’ Miss Neilson’s face turned white, and she closed her
eyes. ’Oh, David, why do you ask for that?’ she cried, and I
dropped it as though I had done an evil thing. ’I’m superstitious,’
she confessed. ’My trunk is full of nails, horseshoes, and the
luckiest thing of all is that little black pearl. I dislike to
refuse you anything, but I know you will understand.’ I hastily
selected a small emerald, and with a feeling almost of temerity I
left the room. All during the farewell supper that followed she
would bring the conversation back to the strangeness of my choice,
until I thought she would never cease, and just on my account. ’If
I gave up that pearl, I shouldn’t live a month. Some one told me
that, and I believe it,’ she said.
“When she left on the morrow she made me promise that if I ever
visited London I would seek her out, but that was the last I saw of
Adelaide Neilson. She had gone no farther than Reno when she wrote
me, sending me a little package in which was buried the black
pearl. ’I cannot get your voice out of my mind,’ she wrote. Six
months afterwards she died in a little French village. She had
returned tired and dusty to the inn from a ramble in the leafy
lanes of Normandy, and, drinking a glass of ice-cold milk, was
suddenly dead in an hour. [She died in less than _one_
month--August 15, 1880, at a châlet, in the Bois de Boulogne,
Paris, becoming ill while driving.--W. W.]
“Of course I had told my family the incident, and one afternoon,
while I was out, my mother went to my room, and, for fear of
ill-luck pursuing me, destroyed the black pearl. Such incidents
have been put into plays and audiences have laughed over the
improbability, but here’s an indisputable fact. Charge it to the
long arm of coincidence, if you will, but in my own career I have
met so many occurrences that are stranger than fiction that I
cannot doubt the workings of coincidence any longer.
“Often during this engagement she had spoken of Mr. William Winter
in terms of gratitude and respect, and that the sentiment must have
been mutual we have ample verification in his many valuable books.
From these pages we of to-day are able to recreate once more the
golden art of the greatest _Juliet_ of all times. ’Dear William
Winter,’ I remember hearing her say, ’how much I have to thank him
for help and advice!’”
MISS NEILSON’S GOOD INFLUENCE.
Adelaide Neilson, whatever may have been the errors of her early life,
was intrinsically a noble woman, and any man might well be proud to have
gained her kindly interest. In the often abused art of acting, to pass,
as she did, from the girlish glee and artless merriment of _Viola_ to
the romantic, passion-touched, tremulous entrancement of _Juliet_,
thence to the ripe womanhood of _Imogen_, and finally to the grandeur of
_Isabella_, is to fill the imagination with an ideal of all that is
excellent in woman and all that makes her the angel of man’s existence
and the chief grace and glory of the world. All acting is illusion: “the
best in this kind are but shadows.” Yet she who could thus fill up the
measure of ideal beauty surely possessed glorious elements. Much for her
own sake is this actress remembered--much, also, for the ever “bright
imaginings” she prompted and the high thoughts that her influence
inspired and justified as to woman’s nature. As the poet bore in his
heart the distant, dying song of the reaper, “long after it was heard
no more,” so and with such feeling is her acting treasured in memory.
Woman, for her sake and the sake of what she interpreted, has ever been,
by those who saw and knew her, more highly prized and reverenced,--a
beneficent result the value of which cannot be overstated. As Byron
wrote:
“The very first
Of human life must spring from woman’s breast;
Your first small words are taught you from her lips;
Your first tears quenched by her, and your last sighs
Breathed out in woman’s hearing.”
“PAUL ARNIFF.”
During Miss Neilson’s engagement at the Baldwin Belasco’s indefatigible
industry had been bestowed on a play, modelled on “The Danicheffs,”--a
drama on a Russian subject which had been produced at the Union Square
Theatre, New York, February 5, 1877. His play, named “Paul Arniff; or,
The Love of a Serf,” was derived in part from “The Black Doctor,” and
was announced as “founded on one of the very best pieces ever produced
at the Porte St. Martin Theatre, Paris.” It was not remarkable, being a
loosely constructed melodrama,--some portions of which were well devised
and
[Illustration: ADELAIDE NEILSON
“_And O, to think the sun can shine,_
_The birds can sing, the flowers can bloom,_
_And she, whose soul was all divine,_
_Be darkly mouldering in the tomb_!”
--W. W.
From a miniature on porcelain.
Author’s Collection.]
cleverly written, while other portions were clumsy and turgid. It
depicted the experience of a Russian serf, _Paul Arniff_, who, loving an
imperious woman of exalted social station, _Marianna Droganoff_, and
finding his passion played with, first forced that disdainful female
into marriage with him (as an alternative to drowning with him, on a
remote tidal island to which he had lured her), and subsequently,
raising himself to distinction by development of his natural talents,
gained her genuine affection, and made her happy. Recalling the
production of that play, Belasco writes: “At the time ’Paul Arniff’ was
put into rehearsal there was in the Baldwin company a tall, slender
young woman of singular complexion and striking appearance, whose stage
name was Adelaide Stanhope. She came from Australia, where she had
gained some reputation, but she had had no good opportunity at the
Baldwin and was discouraged and dissatisfied. She and I had become
friends, she was cast for the heroine of my play and, knowing the cause
of her discontent and wishing to help her, I built up her character all
I could during rehearsals,--O’Neill, ever chivalrous, generous and
sympathetic, acquiescing, though it encroached a good deal on his own
part: but the success she made and her consequent happiness more than
repaid us both. She afterward became the wife of Nelson Wheatcroft,
with whom I was associated at the Lyceum and the Empire, in New
York.”--The Baldwin stock company, succeeding Miss Neilson, presented
“Paul Arniff” on July 19, 1880, and acted in that play for one week.
This was the cast:
_Paul Arniff_ James O’Neill.
_Count Andrea Droganoff_ James O. Barrows.
_Baron Woronoff_ John Wilson.
_M. de Verville_ ---- Doud.
_Father Eliavna_ ---- Nowlin.
_Marianna_ Adelaide Stanhope.
_Princess Anna Orloff_ Jean Clara Walters.
_Countess Droganoff_ Kate Denin.
_Wanda_ Blanche Thorne.
_Tforza_ Nellie Wetherill.
WANING FORTUNES AT THE BALDWIN.
Adelaide Neilson’s farewell season at the Baldwin Theatre (during which
it was guaranteed that she should receive not less than $500 a
performance) was almost the last notably remunerative engagement filled
there during Maguire’s tenancy of that house. Indeed, theatrically, “the
most high and palmy state” of San Francisco was passed, and the history
of the Baldwin, and of the stock company at that theatre, for the two
years which followed (July, 1880, to July, 1882), is one of anxious
striving, strenuous endeavor, often brilliant achievement, public
indifference, defeated hopes, declining fortunes, fitful renewals of
prosperity quickly followed by periods in which bad business grew always
a little worse, and ultimate failure and disintegration. When Belasco
began his effort to rehabilitate and reëstablish himself there, “playing
mostly bits,” as he expressed it to me, James H. Vinson and Robert
Eberle were, officially, in charge of the stage and, though he did much,
if not most, of the actual labor of stage management, his services were
not publicly acknowledged. For reasons of business expediency,
therefore, he, for a time, reverted to use of the name of Walter
Kingsley, which appears in various programmes. After a few weeks,
however, Eberle withdrew from the stage, devoting himself to business
affairs of the theatre, and Belasco soon worked back into his former
place as director and playwright. His “Paul Arniff” was followed, July
26, by the first presentment of a drama, taken from the French, entitled
“Deception,” by Samuel W. Piercy, who personated the chief character in
it, _Raoul de Ligniers_. Later, that play, renamed “The Legion of
Honor,” was presented by Piercy in many cities of our country: it was
brought out at the Park Theatre, New York, on November 9, 1880. That
capital actor Frederic de Belleville, coming from Australia, made his
first appearance in America when it was acted at the Baldwin.
“Deception” was followed, August 9, by “An Orphan of the State” (known
to our Eastern Stage as “A Child of the State”), and, on August 16, by
the first appearance of John T. Malone, who performed as
_Richelieu_,--Barton Hill playing _De Mauprat_. Belasco greatly liked
Malone and, in his “Story,” gives this glimpse of him:
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE,--JOHN T. MALONE.
“An oldtime companion of mine at this period was John T. Malone,
studying for the Catholic priesthood. But beneath the cassock my
friend harbored a great love for the Stage, and among his intimate
circle had won quite a reputation as a Shakespearean scholar. I
remember the morning he came to the Baldwin Theatre and told me the
story of his ambition. I engaged him at once, struck by his
personality! ’I’ve been waiting many years,’ said he, and now the
time has come.’... Later, he supported Booth and Barrett and his
name will ever be associated with that splendid gentleman who
founded The Players. As the years passed he became a victim of
Time’s revenges; nurtured in the blank verse school, his
engagements became fewer and fewer until they utterly dwindled
away. Often I picture him as an actor of exceedingly great talent,
but it had no outlet for its practical use. His is one of the many
sad cases in the theatrical world of ’exits’ marked by poverty and
loneliness.”
I know not whether Malone ever studied for the priesthood: I know,
however, that he was educated for the profession of law, and that in his
young manhood he practised law in San Francisco. He was born in 1854, I
believe in that city, and he died in New York, January 15, 1906: he
richly merited commemoration. He was a good man and a talented, zealous,
reverent servant of the Stage. No actor of our time more dearly loved
his profession or more devoutly and unselfishly labored in its support,
though his career was not attended with any specially brilliant
achievements or extraordinary incidents. He was a careful and thoughtful
student of Shakespeare, and his acquaintance with the works of the great
dramatist was intricate, extensive, and minute. He wrote much upon that
subject, and his contributions to contemporary magazines, in the vein of
Shakespearean criticism, are of peculiar interest. In his domestic life
he was unfortunate and unhappy, but to the last he retained a
philosophical spirit and a genial mind. As a comrade, among intellectual
men, he was both loved and admired,--because his nature was noble, his
heart was kind, his taste was pure, his mind was rich, and his manners
were gentle. It was a pleasure to know him, and the remembrance of him
lingers sweetly in the recollection of a few old friends.
“TRUE TO THE CORE.”
On August 18 H. J. Byron’s comedy of “The Upper Crust” was played at the
Baldwin, in conjunction with the burlesque opera of “Little Amy
Robsart,” and that double bill held the stage for a fortnight. During
that time Belasco completed an adaptation of the “prize drama” by T. P.
Cooke, entitled “True to the Core,”--first acted at the Bowery Theatre,
New York, December 17, 1866. It had been seen in San Francisco twelve
years earlier, in its original form. I have been able to find only a
mutilated programme of the performance of Belasco’s version, August 30,
1880, which gives part of the cast as follows:
_Truegold_ James O’Neill.
_Geoffrey Dangerfield_ Frederic de Belleville.
_Lord High Admiral of England_ A. D. Bradley.
_Marah_ Adelaide Stanhope.
_Mabel Truegold_ Lillian Andrews.
_Queen Elizabeth_ Eva West.
“True to the Core” is an old-fashioned melodrama, of which the hero,
_Truegold_, is an English pilot who passes through many “moving
accidents by flood and field,” being seized by treasonous conspirators,
placed on board a vessel of the Spanish Armada, which he pilots upon a
rock, instead of into Portsmouth Harbor, and who is in danger,
subsequently, of losing his head on the block rather than break his
word, but who is followed, served, and ultimately saved by a gypsy
woman, _Marah_, whom he has befriended. It was played for one week to
audiences of fair size and was succeeded, in order, by William G. Wills’
“Ninon,”--acted September 6, for the first time in America,--“Aladdin
Number Two; or, The Wonderful Scamp,” “Forget Me Not,” Bartley
Campbell’s “The Galley Slave,” the same author’s “Fairfax,” and “Golden
Game,”--all produced under Belasco’s care, and all, unhappily, performed
to lessening receipts.
The next incident of note at the Baldwin was the coming of William E.
Sheridan, who opened there November 15, playing _King Louis the
Eleventh_, and whose advent brought back a measure of prosperity to the
theatre. Belasco, in his “Story,” records this remembrance and estimate
of Sheridan:
A STERLING ACTOR AND AN INTERESTING ESTIMATE:--WILLIAM E. SHERIDAN.
“We were sadly in need of an attraction at this time, and so, when W. E.
Sheridan arrived, from Philadelphia, which city pointed to him with much
just pride, we engaged him at a nominal salary, and immediately he
soared into popularity, being acclaimed one of the most versatile actors
who had ever visited the Coast. Three times his engagement was extended,
for the people of San Francisco were loath to let him depart. His
_Othello_ was a scholarly performance; ’A New Way to Pay Old Debts’
increased his popularity, as did also ’The Fool’s Revenge,’ ’The Lyons
Mail,’ and _Shylock_. He was essentially a virile actor, forceful and
with a magnetic voice that was music in the ear. And I have seen many a
_Louis the Eleventh_, but he was the greatest of them all, not even
excepting that wonderful genius, Sir Henry Irving. Success found him
greatly astonished, for when he left Philadelphia he was practically
unknown to any but his townspeople, and now when his name was heralded
abroad, the East listened with a certain curiosity. As we played to
crowded houses and the applause floated to his dressing-room, he could
scarcely credit this sudden fame which had fallen upon him. More than
once Sheridan turned to me and said: ’I’ve found it all out now when it
is too late.’”
* * * * *
Belasco’s estimate of Sheridan is interesting and it should be
preserved--because it _is_ Belasco’s: the opinion of the foremost stage
manager of his time, about any actor, should be of interest. It would,
however, be far more instructive and valuable if the _reasons_ for it
were also given: but in a long experience I have found few commentators
on acting who give reasons for their declared opinions. _Why_ Sheridan
should have felt that he had “found it all out when it was too late”
passes my understanding,--because, in 1880, he was in the very prime of
life, forty years of age; contrary to Belasco’s impression, he was well
known throughout our country, and, moreover, he continued to be
abundantly successful for more than six years after his initial
appearance in San Francisco. He was a sterling actor and richly deserved
success. I knew him and liked him much. He took up “King Louis XI.”
because of the immense impression created by Irving’s revival of that
play at the London Lyceum, March 9, 1878, and he gave an effective and
admirable performance in it. Nevertheless, he was not, in my judgment,
even for a moment rightly comparable in the part with Irving,--because
nowhere in his embodiment of _Louis_ did he reveal even an approximate
of the wonderful personality, the indomitable intellect, the inerrant
apprehension of subtle traits of complex character, or the faculty of
identification, the grim menace, the baleful power, the grisly humor, or
the exquisite felicity of expressive art with which Irving displayed his
ideal of that human monster of cruelty and guile. Such acting as that
of Henry Irving in the scene of _King Louis’_ confessional, the scene of
his paroxysm of maniacal wrath, the scene of his supplication for life,
and the scene of his august and awful death, opens the depths of the
human heart, lays bare the possible depravity of human nature, depicts a
great character in such a way as to illumine the historic page, and
conveys a most solemn monition on the conduct of life.
During his first engagement in San Francisco Sheridan acted _Rover_, in
“Wild Oats”; _Lesurques_ and _Dubosc_, in “The Lyons Mail”; _Claude
Melnotte_, _Shylock_, _Richelieu_, _Othello_, _Hamlet_, and _Sir Giles
Overreach_, in “A New Way to Pay Old Debts.” Laura Don, making her first
appearance in San Francisco, November 24, played _Lady Amaranth_ to his
_Rover_, and _Julie_ to his _Lesurques_: Lillie Eddington played
_Pauline_, _Portia_, and other leading female parts with him. He was
supported by “the new Baldwin Company,” which had been organized just
prior to his coming to San Francisco, and which included Joseph R.
Grismer and “Harry” Colton. All the plays were produced under Belasco’s
stage management, and his familiarity with them and his indefatigable
zeal in rehearsals made his assistance invaluable to Sheridan. That
actor filled several subsequent engagements in San Francisco, and his
acting so vividly impressed Belasco that he gave public imitations of
him in _King Louis_ and in other parts. Sheridan served in the Union
Army during the Civil War and attained to the rank of captain. He
married the actress Louise Davenport (his first wife, Sarah Hayes, died
in 1872), went with her to Australia in 1886, and died there, in Sydney,
May 15, 1887. He was the impersonator of _Beamish McCoul_, in
“Arrah-na-Pogue,” when that play was originally performed in America, at
Niblo’s Garden, New York, July 12, 1865,--an occasion I have particular
reason to remember because that was the first theatrical performance
reviewed by me for “The New York Tribune.”
Of Laura Don, with whom Belasco became acquainted at the time of
Sheridan’s first San Francisco engagement, he gives this recollection:
LAURA DON.--AN UNFULFILLED AMBITION.
“Laura Don was a painter whose landscapes and portraits had won her
distinction in the art world. Indeed, she was quite a spoilt child
of the Muses, for the gods had dowered her with many gifts. Nature
had been kind to her in every way, mentally and physically, for she
had a face and figure of great attractiveness; her every movement
was serpentine and voluptuous. This was further heightened by an
excitable temperament, keyed to the highest pitch, and I never saw
anyone who had a more insatiable thirst for fame; so much so,
indeed, that her health was on the verge of being undermined. I
saw in this woman every possibility of making a wonderful
_Cleopatra_, and when she had joined the Baldwin Theatre I spent
many hours after performances training her in the rôle (_sic_).
Then one Sunday afternoon, when we had reached the Death Scene,
Laura Don fell in a faint, and I looked down to find drops of blood
coming from her mouth. So this was the reason for the hectic flush,
for the irresponsible moods and eccentricities! When she came to,
we had removed every outward sign of her fatal malady. But Laura
Don was not to be deceived. Many times when we had been working
together she would exclaim, ’Why is it I am so weak? Why is it I do
not gain strength?’ For two days she remained in her room, and then
she sent for me and confessed that she had known all along of her
consumptive tendencies. ’I shall never play _Cleopatra_,’ she said;
’you must find someone else to take my place. I suppose we cannot
escape the fate imposed upon us. I was born a butterfly and I shall
die one. I’ve fought the idea for years, and I have been conquered.
So I shall go East and pass the time as well as I may until the
end. If you are anywhere near when “it” occurs, send me a few
violets in memory of those you have always kept on the rehearsal
table.’ Soon after her arrival in the East came her tragic death,
so that it was not very long before I had to send the flowers.”
Laura Don’s true name was Anna Laura Fish. She was the first wife of the
theatrical agent and manager Thomas B. McDonough. She afterward married
a photographer, resident in Troy, New York, whose name I have forgotten.
She lived for
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO AS _KING LOUIS THE ELEVENTH_
Photograph by Houseworth, San Francisco.
Original loaned by Mrs. David Belasco.]
[Illustration]
about six years after Belasco met her. On September 6, 1882, at the
Standard Theatre, New York, she produced a play called “A Daughter of
the Nile,” written by herself, and appeared in it as a star. The
principal person in it, a female named _Egypt_, is supposed to be of
Egyptian origin: the subject, however, is American and modern. Miss Don
never acted _Cleopatra_. She died, suddenly, at Greenwich, New York,
February 10, 1886.
Sheridan’s engagement at the Baldwin terminated December 28, and the
next night the well-known English melodrama of “The World,” by Paul
Merritt, Henry Pettitt, and Augustus Harris, was performed there, for
the first time in America. (Several years later, after Belasco had
become established in New York, he was employed by Charles Frohman to
make a revival of this play, which had been introduced to our Stage
under his direction, in New Orleans.) On January 10, 1881, a drama
called “The Eviction,” depicting some aspects of the landlord and tenant
disturbances then rife in Ireland, was brought out and filled one week.
On January 17 it was succeeded by a play called “Wedded by Fate,” the
joint work of Edward Captain Field and Henry B. McDowell, son of General
Irvin McDowell. The younger McDowell, possessed of wealth, proposed,
through Belasco, to subsidize a production of their play in order to
get it before the public, and Maguire, pressed for money, eagerly
assented to that arrangement. Belasco, recalling the incident of
bringing forth “Wedded by Fate” and the peculiarities of its principal
author, writes thus:
“An instance of the casual devotee of the Theatre was young
McDowell, son of the famous Union general. Our first interview was
most amusing. I remember how he stutterred: ’I s-s-should l-l-like
to b-be an a-a-a-actor,’ he said, with difficulty. He also, in
common with many others, believed that he could write a successful
play and agreed that if I produced something of his very own he
would finance it and would guarantee a certain bonus. His first
effort--I forget the name of it--cost him a trifle of a fortune,
but inasmuch as it was a local play by a local author people
flocked to see it. When I met him years afterwards in New York he
was still obsessed by the theatrical bee, from which he never
recovered. With Franklin Sargent he opened The Theatre of Arts and
Letters and lost a fortune. If I had not been, at the time, under
contract to the Lyceum Theatre I should have joined McDowell in
that undertaking.”
The period from January to July, 1881, exhibits nothing of particular
moment concerning Belasco, though, as usual, he was hard at work
throughout it. “Wedded by Fate” gave place to a revival, February 1, of
Daly’s version of “Leah the Forsaken,” made to introduce to the Stage a
novice, Miss Clara Stuart, who paid for the privilege of appearing and
whose money, like that of the extravagant McDowell, was welcome to the
distressed Maguire. Beginning on February 9, George Darrell, an actor
from Australia,--with whom Belasco had been associated in conjunction
with Laura Alberta, at Grey’s Opera House, in 1873,--acted at the
Baldwin for several weeks. During McDowell’s season and for several
weeks subsequent thereto part of the Baldwin stock company performed in
towns of the interior,--Belasco dividing his time between San Francisco,
where he assisted Darrell, and the Baldwin company, “on the road.”
Darrell opened in “Back from the Grave,” a play dealing with the
important, neglected, and often misrepresented subject of spiritualism
(that actor was, or, at least, bore the reputation of being, a hypnotist
and a student of occult matters). This was followed on the 21st by “Four
Fates,” and, on the 25th, by “Transported for Life.” John P. Smith and
William A. Mestayer played at the Baldwin for three weeks, beginning
April 11, in “The Tourists in a Pullman Palace Car”; Kate Claxton,
supported by Charles Stevenson and making her first appearance in San
Francisco, presented “The Two Orphans” there for two weeks, opening on
May 9; and the company of Jarrett & Rice, in “Fun on the Bristol,”
played there from May 30 to June 9, after which date the theatre was
closed until July 4. It was then reopened, under the temporary
management of J. H. Young, with A. D. Bradley as stage manager, and a
few performances of “Emancipation” were given by The Pierreponts.
Belasco, however, appears to have been occupied chiefly with his own
affairs from April to July.
“LA BELLE RUSSE.”
Even before Belasco had been reinstalled as stage manager at the Baldwin
Theatre he had resumed planning another campaign of adventure to gain
acceptance and position in New York, and that purpose was ever present
in his mind during the year that followed his return from the Eastern
venture with the Hernes in “Hearts of Oak.” He had set his heart on a
success in the leading theatre of the country, Wallack’s, and he
resolutely addressed himself to its achievement. Maguire had come to
depend more and more on Belasco, in the labor of keeping the Baldwin
Theatre open and solvent, and to him the ambitious dramatist presently
turned with his plans for a play to be called “La Belle Russe.” “I felt
that I had a play which would suit Wallack’s company,” he said, “and
that, if I could get some of his actors to appear in it, Wallack would
soon hear of it, and the task of getting a New York hearing would be
much simplified. Jeffreys-Lewis
[Illustration:
Photographs by Sarony.
MARY JEFFREYS-LEWIS
Belasco’s Collection.
OSMOND TEARLE
About 1881, when they acted in Belasco’s “La Belle Russe”]
was then in San Francisco, and I stipulated with Maguire that he should
engage her for me, and also Osmond Tearle and Gerald Eyre, from
Wallack’s; John Jennings, from the Union Square, and Clara Walters, who
was then acting in Salt Lake City.” Maguire agreed to do this, the
engagements were made, and Belasco earnestly addressed himself to the
completion of his play, which was accomplished in six weeks. Meantime
Tearle ended his engagement in New York (at Wallack’s Theatre, July 2)
and, with other members of the Wallack company, went at once to San
Francisco, where rehearsals of the new play were immediately begun.
Belasco’s “La Belle Russe” was originally entitled “Violette.” He
chanced to read the phrase “la belle Russe” on a wind-blown fragment of
newspaper, was pleased by it, and adopted it as a better title. The play
is a fabric of theatrically effective but incredible situations, and it
is founded on two other plays, well known to him,--both of them having
been acted in San Francisco, under his management,--namely, “Forget Me
Not,” by Herman Merivale and Charles Groves, and “The New Magdalen,” by
Wilkie Collins: the version produced under Belasco’s direction was a
piratical one made by James H. LeRoy. _La belle Russe_ is a beautiful
but vicious Englishwoman, named _Beatrice Glandore_, daughter of a
clergyman. She has sunk, by a facile process of social decline, until
she has become a decoy for a gambling house, where, pretending to be a
Russian, she is known to its frequenters by the sobriquet which gives
the play its name. She has a virtuous twin sister, _Geraldine_, so like
her in appearance that they are, practically, indistinguishable. _La
belle Russe_ has infatuated a young Englishman, _Captain Brand_ (known
at the time by the name of _Captain Jules Clopin_), with whom she has
lived, whom she has robbed, abandoned, and finally shot, believing
herself to have killed him. _Geraldine_, meantime, has married a young
Englishman of great expectations, _Sir Philip Calthorpe_, who is
repudiated by his mother and other relatives because of his marriage,
whereupon, in financial straits, though represented as loving his wife,
_Calthorpe_ deserts her, enlists in the Army, and disappears.
After the lapse of a considerable period, _Calthorpe_ being reported as
dead, _Lady Elizabeth Calthorpe_, his mother, experiences a change of
heart, and advertises for information about his widow. _Beatrice, la
belle Russe_, poor and resident in Italy, hears of this inquiry and,
believing her twin sister to be dead, determines to present herself in
the assumed person of _Geraldine_, as the widow of _Calthorpe_, and thus
to obtain for herself and her young daughter (of whom _Brand_ is the
father) a luxurious home and an enviable social station. In this fraud
she partially succeeds, being accepted as _Calthorpe’s_ widow by both
_Lady Elizabeth_ and her family lawyer, _Monroe Quilton_, who evince a
confiding acquiescence singularly characteristic of proud old English
aristocrats and their astute legal advisers. Almost in the moment of her
success, however, _Sir Philip_ having come from Australia, she finds
herself installed not as his widow but as his wife,--and also she finds
that _Sir Philip_ is accompanied by her former companion, _Captain
Brand_, those wanderers having met in Australian wilds and become close
friends. _Philip_ is sure she is his wife and gladly accepts her as
such. _Brand_, on the contrary, promptly identifies the spurious
_Geraldine_ as _Beatrice_, and, privately, demands that she abandon her
fraudulent position. This she refuses to do, defying _Brand_ to oust her
from the newly acquired affections of _Calthorpe_ and his mother,--and
thus, practically, the situation is created wherein _Stéphanie de
Mohrivart_ defies _Sir Horace Welby_, in the play of “Forget Me Not.”
_Beatrice_, having made an unsuccessful attempt to poison _Brand_, in
order to remove all obstacles and maintain her place, is finally
defeated and driven to confession and surrender when that inexorable
antagonist reveals to her not an avenging Corsican (the dread
apparition which overwhelms _Stéphanie_), but the approaching figure of
her twin sister, the true _Geraldine_ and the actual wife of
_Calthorpe_,--who, also, is conveniently resurrected for the family
reunion.
Aside from the impossibility of most of these occurrences,--a defect
which is measurably lessened by Belasco’s deft treatment of them,--and
also from the blemish of intricacy in the substructure of the plot, “La
Belle Russe” is an effective play, of the society-melodrama order,--the
action of it being free and cumulative, the characters well drawn, and
the interest sustained. It contains an interesting exposition of
monstrous feminine wickedness, and stimulates thought upon the
infatuation that can be caused by seductive physical beauty, and it
suggests the singular spectacle of baffled depravity stumbling among its
attempted self-justifications,--_Beatrice_, of course, entering various
verbal pleas in extenuation which, accepted, would establish her as a
victim of ruthless society instead of her own unbridled tendencies. The
play possesses, likewise, the practical advantages of a small cast,
implicating only nine persons and requiring for its display only three
simple sets of scenery. The San Francisco production of it was
abundantly successful, Miss Jeffreys-Lewis, who had previously won high
praise by performances of _Stéphanie de Mohrivart_, and also of the
_Countess Zicka_, in “Diplomacy,” being specially commended, one
observer declaring that, though her performances of those parts were
good examples of the acting required in the tense dramatic situations of
a duel of keen wits, “her _Geraldine_ [_Beatrice_] _Glandore_ is more
varied, more vivid, more intense, and generally powerful. Her mobile
face took on every shade of expression that the human face can wear, and
perhaps not the least natural was the open, artless, sunny countenance
which quickly won _Sir Philip’s_ love.” Tearle as _Captain Brand_ and
Gerald Eyre as _Calthorpe_ were almost equally admired, and the play had
a prosperous career of two weeks,--which, in San Francisco at that time,
was substantial testimony to its popularity. Belasco writes this account
of the production:
“San Francisco, like all other cities, was not over-anxious to
welcome the product of one of her sons. There was much more drawing
power in something of foreign authorship.... Knowing that the
critics would welcome anything from France, and knowing how
hypercritical some of the writers of the press were becoming of my
own efforts, ’La Belle Russe’ was announced as being by a French
author. The programme for the opening announced that the drama was
from the French. However, Maguire had posters ready to placard the
town, were ’La Belle Russe’ a success. This time the name of David
Belasco was blazoned forth in the blackest type. And it all worked
as I had devised. The play met with instant success, and on the
morning after, when the critics had come out in columns of praise
for such technique as the French usually showed, on their downward
travel to the offices they were faced with the startling
announcement that the anonymous author was none other than David
Belasco.”
The first presentment of “La Belle Russe” was made at the Baldwin
Theatre, to mark “the inauguration of the regular dramatic season”
there, on July 18, 1881. During the rehearsals of it Tearle had several
times spoken to Belasco, signifying doubt about the “French origin” of
the play and, finally, remarking that Belasco showed an astonishing
familiarity with every word and detail of the drama. “Well, whatever you
may think,” Belasco assured him, “please believe _you are mistaken_ and
say nothing about it--just now.” His wishes were observed: one
contemporary comment on the day before its production remarks that “of
the play little seems to be known. It is said to resemble ’Forget Me
Not.’ The actors say it is strong.” The first announcement I have been
able to find of the actual authorship is in a newspaper of July 26,
1881, where it is advertised as “The strongest play of modern times, ’La
Belle Russe,’ by D. Belasco, author of ’Hearts of Oak.’” After all
question of the acceptance of his play was ended and his authorship
acknowledged Belasco asked Tearle to inform Lester Wallack about it, “if
he thought well enough of the play to feel justified in doing so.” “Oh,”
answered Tearle, “I’ve done that long ago; I telegraphed to him after
the first performance: it will be just the thing for Rose Coghlan.” Thus
Belasco felt he was in a fair way to accomplish his purpose of securing
a New York opening. This was the original cast of “La Belle Russe”:
_Captain Dudley Brand_ Osmond Tearle.
_Sir Philip Calthorpe_ Gerald Eyre.
_Monroe Quilton, Esq._ John W. Jennings.
_Rignold Henderson_ (Supt. of Police) E. H. Holden.
_Roberts_ J. McCormack.
_Barton_ Edgar Wilton.
_Beatrice Glandore_ (_Geraldine_) Jeffreys-Lewis.
_Lady Elizabeth Calthorpe_ Jean Clara Walters.
_Elise_ Edith Livingston.
_Little Beatrice_ Maude Adams.
“THE STRANGLERS OF PARIS.”
“La Belle Russe” received its final performance at the Baldwin Theatre
on Saturday evening, July 30. On August 1 “Adolph Challet” was produced
there, under Belasco’s direction, and on August 8 a revival of
“Diplomacy” was effected, Tearle acting _Henry Beauclerc_, Gerald Eyre
_Julian_, and Miss Jeffreys-Lewis the _Countess Zicka_. It had been
intended to divide the week between “Diplomacy” and “Camille,” but “to
my delight,” Belasco said, “the former was strong enough to fill the
whole week and I could give all the time to final preparation of my new
play.” That new play was a dramatic epitome of “The Stranglers of Paris”
(“Les Étrangleurs de Paris”), by Adolphe Belot, for the production of
which much effort had already been made. It was modestly announced by
Maguire (who, I surmise, did not thereby greatly distress Belasco) as
“The great dramatic event of the nineteenth century,” and it was brought
out on August 15. Belasco’s name was not made known as that of the
adapter. This play is, in fact, an extravagant and, in some respects, a
repulsive sensation melodrama. The story relates some of the experiences
of an intellectual pervert named _Jagon_, a huge hunchback, of
remarkable muscular strength, especially in the digits, resident in
Paris, and gaining a livelihood for himself and a cherished daughter
(whom he keeps in ignorance of her actual relationship to himself) by
the gentle art of strangling persons in order to rob them. A specially
barbarous murder is committed by _Jagon_ and an accomplice named
_Lorenz_,--an ex-convict who has ingratiated himself with the daughter,
_Mathilde_, and who marries her. _Jagon_ and an innocent man,
_Blanchard_, are arrested, tried for this crime, and sentenced to
transportation to New Caledonia. The convict-ship bearing them to that
destination is wrecked and they escape together upon a raft and return
to Paris. _Mathilde_, having discovered the criminality of her husband,
frees her mind on that subject with such pungency that _Lorenz_ is moved
to practise upon her the professional dexterity learned from her revered
father and promptly chokes her to death. _Jagon_ arrives at this
juncture, attended by police officers, denounces _Lorenz_ to them as his
actual accomplice in the crime for which _Blanchard_ has been convicted
with him, and then, in the manner of _Robert Macaire_ in somewhat
similar circumstances, being determined to escape the guillotine, leaps
through a convenient window, thus giving the police an opportunity,
which they improve, of shooting him to death. The play is immensely
inferior to the story upon parts of which it is based, but it serves its
purpose as a “shocker.” The escape of the two convicts on the raft at
sea provides an effective scene, not the less so because of its
resemblance to a similar scene in the earlier melodrama of “The World”:
the expedient, however, was an old one long before “The World” was
produced: it is employed with great skill and effect in Reade’s fine
novel of “The Simpleton.” Belasco’s mature opinion of this play of his
has been recorded in four words which cover the case: “What buncombe it
was!” A notably good performance was given in it by Osmond Tearle as
_Jagon_--a part which he expressed himself to the dramatist as delighted
to undertake as a relief from acting the repressed “leads” to which he
had for some time been restricted. It ran for two weeks. This was the
original cast:
_Jagon_ Osmond Tearle.
_Joseph Blanchard_ Gerald Eyre.
_Robert de Meillant_ Joseph R. Grismer.
_Lorenz_ Max Freeman.
_Captain Jules Guérin_ Walter Leman.
_Mons. Claude_ A. D. Bradley.
_Bontout_ John W. Jennings.
_Papin_ Charles Norris.
_Dr. Fordien_ J. P. Wade.
_Mons. Vitel_ George McCormack.
_Mons. Xavier_ E. N. Thayer.
_Governor of Prison_ George Galloway.
_Longstalot_ } { R. G. Marsh.
_Grégoire_ } { Logan Paul.
_Jacquot_ } { G. L. May.
_Cabassa_ } { John Torrence.
_Pierre_ } Convicts { G. McCord.
_Zalabut_ } { J. Higgins.
_Lamazon_ } { Charles Robertson.
_Zorges_ } { G. Holden.
_Jacques_ } { S. Chapman.
_Commander of Prison Ship_ W. T. Day.
_First Lieutenant_ E. N. Neuman.
_Second Lieutenant_ E. Webster.
_First Marine_ J. Sherwood.
_Mathilde_ Jeffreys Lewis.
_Jeanne Guerin_ Ethel Arden.
_Sophie Blanchard_ Jean Clara Walters.
_Zoé Lacassade_ Mrs. Elizabeth Saunders.
_La Grande Florine_ Eva West.
“The Stranglers” was superbly mounted, it delighted the public for which
it was intended, and was played for two weeks, attracting large and
enthusiastically demonstrative audiences.
NEW YORK AGAIN.--“LA BELLE RUSSE” AT WALLACK’S.
Maguire, because he had produced Belasco’s play of “La Belle Russe” at
the Baldwin and had thereby profited, appears to have considered that
also he had thereby acquired a property in it. To this claim the
necessitous dramatist assented (making, I suppose, a virtue of
necessity), giving Maguire a half-interest. Maguire then decreed that
they should go to New York together, in order to place the play with
Wallack, if that should prove the most expedient arrangement, or to
place it with any other manager from whom it might be possible to exact
higher payment. Belasco consented to negotiate with other managers and
ascertain what terms might be offered, “even though,” he said, “I had
determined that none but Wallack should produce it.” On September 25,
1881, they left San Francisco together and came to New York.
According to Belasco’s statement to me, Augustin Daly wanted the play of
“La Belle Russe” for Ada Rehan (to whom the central part would have been
peculiarly unfitted), while A. M. Palmer wanted it for Miss
Jeffreys-Lewis, at the Union Square, and John Stetson wanted it for
Marie Prescott. Belasco had interviews with all of them, and with
Wallack. His determination that Wallack should produce his play, if he
possibly could arrange to have him do so, was intensified by the
kindness of Wallack’s manner toward the young author and by the strong
impression made upon him by that actor’s pictorial and winning
personality. Maguire, meantime, consorted with Stetson, a person
naturally congenial to him, and presently became insistent that the play
should be intrusted to that manager. “After I had read the play to
Stetson in his office (which I did very unwillingly),” Belasco told me,
“the two of them threatened me with all sorts of consequences if I did
not turn the manuscript over to Stetson, and I really believe they would
have taken it from me by force if I had not buttoned it under my coat
and bolted out of the office!” This pair of pilgrims had then been for
some time in New York, and Maguire, by agreement, had been paying
Belasco’s living expenses; now, by way of practical intimation that his
will must prevail and the play be relinquished to Stetson, he stopped
doing so. This left Belasco in a familiar but not the less painful
plight--stranded--and it also incensed him against Maguire.
At this juncture, when unfortunately he was impecunious, indignant, and
excited, he received a visit from Maguire’s nephew, Mr. Frank L.
Goodwin, with whom he had already negotiated relative to “La Belle
Russe,” and whom he now supposed to have come to him as Wallack’s
representative. To this person he imprudently made known his quarrel
with Maguire, and hastily inquired, “What will you give me for the
play?” “Fifteen hundred dollars, cash,” Goodwin answered, and then,
observing that he hesitated, “and a return ticket to San Francisco, and
$100 more for your expenses.” “How soon can I have the money?” Belasco
rejoined. “In half an hour.” “Then I’ll take it”--and he did, selling
his play, outright, not, as he supposed, to Wallack, but to Goodwin, for
$1,600 cash and a railroad ticket home! He received the money the same
afternoon and left that night for San Francisco. When the play was
produced at Wallack’s it was announced as “By arrangement with Mr. F. L.
Goodwin, the production of a new and powerful drama by David Belasco,
Esq.” Wallack paid Goodwin a high price for the play, which, since then,
has been successfully acted throughout the English-speaking world, and,
later, when told of the facts of the sale, expressed his profound regret
and dissatisfaction that Belasco had not dealt directly with him. Fifty
times the amount of money that Belasco received for “La Belle Russe”
would have been more like a fair payment for it than the sum he actually
received. “I did not particularly care what Maguire might do,” Belasco
told me, “when he heard about the matter. I felt that I could get along
much better without him than he could without me (I always did for
Maguire far more than ever I got paid for!), but he cooled off after he
got home, and I resumed work, for a little while, at the Baldwin.”
AN OPINION BY BRONSON HOWARD.--WALLACK IN THE THIRTIETH STREET HOUSE.
Belasco’s published recollections of the circumstances of Wallack’s
removal from the Thirteenth Street house and of the importance to that
manager of his presentation of “La Belle Russe” require revision to make
them accurate. He says:
“The stage history of ’La Belle Russe’ is interesting. Wallack had
opened his theatre with ’Money,’ which had been followed by a play
by Pinero. He had met with failure all along the road, and his
heart began to question whether he was right in forsaking his old
ground on Thirteenth Street and in moving so far up-town. ’La Belle
Russe,’ put on hurriedly, as a last forlorn hope, retrieved his
fortunes. It called a spade a spade and did not show any reticence,
the papers declared, and they flayed it as hard as ever they could.
There was one exception, and that was Edward A. Dithmar, of ’The
New York Times.’ He said it was a new era among plays, and,
although he was not a prophet, he put his finger on the elements
that achieved success, and this was long before the day of ’The
Second Mrs. Tanqueray.’ Bronson Howard, at the height of his
success, declared, in a public lecture, that it was a model of
construction, and confessed that he had already seen it seventeen
times, each evening discovering some new technical excellence in
it. I do not want to appear boastful; the facts of the theatre are
no longer personal after they have been made known to the public.”
Bronson Howard was a man of talent, though his plays conclusively show
that it was not of a high order and that his command of technical
resource in dramatic construction was not remarkable: he may have
required seventeen inspections of the drama in order to perceive its
many practical merits as an histrionic vehicle: most experienced
observers could, and did, discern them at one view. Belasco’s statements
with regard to Wallack, above quoted, are not correct. Wallack did not
open his Thirtieth Street theatre with “Money”: he opened it, January
4, 1882, with “The School for Scandal”: “Money” was not acted at that
theatre till March 23, 1888,--though a play by A. W. Pinero, entitled
“The Money Spinner,” was the second acted there, January 21, 1882.
Wallack had not “met with failure all along the road.” He closed his
theatre at Thirteenth Street with a presentation, under the management
of Samuel Colville, of the English melodrama of “The World,” which ran
there from April 11 to July 2, 1881, receiving eighty-four performances,
and which gained gross receipts to the extent of about $65,000 (at the
time, when prices were about half what they are now, an extraordinary
profit): he produced another English melodrama, called “Youth,” at his
new theatre, February 20, 1882, and this play ran till May 6: “La Belle
Russe” was produced by Wallack on May 8, and it ran till the close of
the season, June 28. The presentment of it there was a notably handsome
one and was distinctly successful. Rose Coghlan was specially excellent
in her evincement of agonizing apprehension beneath a forced assumption
of calm, and by the denoted prevalence of an indomitable will over
mental terror. This was the cast at Wallack’s:
_Captain Dudley Brand_ Osmond Tearle.
_Sir Philip Calthorpe_ Gerald Eyre.
_Monroe Quilton, Esq._ John Gilbert.
_Roberts_ C. E. Edwin.
_Barton_ H. Holliday.
_Beatrice_ (_Geraldine_) Rose Coghlan.
_Lady Elizabeth Calthorpe_ Mme. Ponisi.
_Little Beatrice_ Mabel Stephenson.
_Agnes_ Celia Edgerton.
Belasco left New York in the latter part of December, 1881, and he
arrived in San Francisco on Christmas Day. “Chispa,” by Clay M. Greene
and Slason Thompson, was produced at the Baldwin Theatre on December 26
and it ran there for two weeks,--in the course of which Maguire returned
home; the differences between him and Belasco were composed, and the
latter was presently reinstalled in his familiar place at the Baldwin.
On January 16, 1882, acting _Matthias_, in “The Bells,” W. E. Sheridan
began a season there which lasted for seven weeks, during which he
revived “Richelieu,” “Othello,” “Hamlet,” and other plays of the
legitimate repertory which he had previously presented in San Francisco
(November-December, 1800), and also “King John” and “The Fool’s
Revenge.” The last-named tragedy was brought out on March 3, the first
performance of it being given for the benefit of Belasco’s old friend
and teacher, Mrs. “Nelly” Holbrook.
BELASCO AND HIS “THE CURSE OF CAIN.”
Sheridan’s season terminated on March 5, and, on the 7th, occurred the
first performance of a new play constructed, while that season lasted,
by Belasco in collaboration with the excellent and much respected Peter
Robertson (1847-1911), long dramatic critic of “The San Francisco
Chronicle.” It was called “The Curse of Cain,” and its more active
author has written of it as follows:
“Strange as it may appear, _Cain_ was my hero. _Abel_ had never
appealed to me, any more than his forebears, in the garden of the
bright flaming sword, whence the apple-eating Eve had been so
forcibly, ejected. ’The Curse of Cain’ in embryo was a simple
trifle of an allegory, which afterwards developed into a four-act
drama with prologue and epilogue. And now that I look back upon it
I think it was somewhat remarkable for strange innovations to the
stage of that day. For the first time realistic thunderstorms and
lightning effects were introduced, more naturally than anything
that had gone before. I do not wish to pooh-pooh modern inventions,
double stages, and all the paraphernalia of the latter-day drama,
but I do contend that we could not have been outdone.”
It will not, I think, appear “strange” to most persons that to Belasco,
as a dramatist, the character of Cain should be more attractive than
that of Abel. It is, I know, sometimes asserted that evil is merely the
absence of good and a passive state. But that assertion is untrue.
_Why_ evil should exist at all is a mystery. But that it does exist and
that, existing, it is a positive, active force which supplies the
propulsive dramatic movement of most great representative plays,--of
“Othello,” “Hamlet,” “King Richard III.,” and “Macbeth,” for
example,--is obvious. Many of the great poets have felt this and
exhibited it in their poetry. _Mephistopheles_ is the dominant figure
and the animating impulse of Goethe’s “Faust” and of Bailey’s “Festus,”
and that is true, likewise, of _Satan_, in Milton’s “Paradise Lost.”
Cain is the exponent of evil in the Bible narrative, the active,
dramatic figure--and Cain, not Abel, accordingly engaged the attention
of Byron, in one of his greatest poems, and of Coleridge, in a fragment
on the same subject. Belasco’s declared preference, as a dramatist,
seems to me to be an inevitable one. There is not, however, much
relevancy in the expression of it as regards his play of “The Curse of
Cain.” That fabric does not relate to the Bible narrative: it is a
melodrama, of the period in which it was written, which tells, in an
artificial but momentarily effective and diverting manner, a
conventional tale of good and evil in conflict,--of crime long
unpunished and honor much abused; of prosperous villainy and persecuted
innocence borne down under a false accusation of murder; of harsh
suffering in gypsy camps and prison cells, and, finally, of the
vindication of virtue and retributive justice overtaking the
transgressor. It was avowedly fashioned on the model of such earlier
plays as “The World” (which Belasco had successfully set upon the stage
fourteen months before), “The Lights o’ London,” “Mankind” and “Youth,”
and it was devised for the purpose of making lavish scenic display and
startling theatrical effects, in the hope of winning back public support
for the Baldwin. That purpose though not that hope was fulfilled, all
contemporary commentators, in effect, agreeing with the published
declaration that “never before in San Francisco has there been such a
liberal and beautiful display of scenery as that provided for this
play.” “The Curse of Cain” was divided into seven acts, all of which
were richly framed, and four of which,--Waterloo Bridge, London, during
a snowstorm; a Gypsy Camp, in rural England; a Ruined Abbey, and “the
Whirlpool Lighthouse,”--were affirmed “marvels of stage painting and
effect.” In the scene of the Gypsy Camp Belasco indulged to the full his
liking for literalism,--providing for the public edification a braying
donkey, neighing horses, cackling hens, crowing cocks, quacking ducks,
and a rooting, grunting pig. In the Lighthouse Scene, as one account
relates, having assembled his _dramatis personæ_ for the final curtain
by the novel yet simple expedient of “washing them all up from the
ocean,” after a shipwreck, like flotsam, he introduced a frantic
struggle between the villain and the hero, beginning on the wave-beaten
rocks, conducted up a spiral stairway within the lighthouse and
intermittently visible through the windows thereof, and terminating in
the fall of the villain from the pinnacle of that edifice to a watery
grave,--with which fitting demise, and the union of lovers, the
spectacle drew sweetly to a close. “The critics,” writes Belasco, “had
plenty of fun with the absurdities of the piece (which hardly needed to
be pointed out), and I had many a good laugh at it myself; but, for all
that, it was the most elaborate scenic production of the kind ever made
in the West, and the people who came to see it went wild over it. The
only trouble was not enough of ’em could be induced to come!”
“The Curse of Cain” was acted from March 7 to 18, except on the evenings
of the 8th and 15th, when Frederick Haase acted at the Baldwin. J. B.
Dickson, of Brooks & Dickson, who saw the play there, purchased the
right to produce it in the East, in English, and Gustav Amberg (then in
San Francisco as manager of the Geistinger Opera Company) arranged to
bring out a German version of it at the Thalia Theater, New York,--but
I have not found that either of those managers ever presented it. A
fragmentary record of the original cast, which is all that diligent
research has discovered, shows Mrs. Saunders and Ada D’Aves as members
of the company and signifies that the chief characters were allotted
thus:
_Sir Rupert Treloar_ Joseph R. Grismer.
_Ashcroft_ Harry Colton.
_Tom Gray_, “_The Idiot_” George Osborne.
_Joan Gray_ Jean Clara Walters.
_Alice Gray_ Phœbe Davis.
On March 15 Osborne superseded Colton as _Ashcroft_,--his place, as _Tom
Gray_, being taken by Joseph W. Francœur.
THE PASSING OF MAGUIRE.
Maguire’s control of the Baldwin Theatre and Belasco’s career in San
Francisco were now drawing toward an end. The Geistinger Opera Company
came to the Baldwin for a few days, when “The Curse of Cain” was
withdrawn: “The Great Divorce Case” was acted there March 30: then came
Haase, in “Hamlet,” “The Gamester,” and other old plays, which were
performed by him “to a beggarly array of empty benches”: and, on April
11, the Italian tragedian Ernesto Rossi (1829-1896)
[Illustration:
Photograph by (Houseman?). Belasco’s Collection.
THOMAS MAGUIRE]
emerged in his supremely repulsive perversion of Shakespeare’s
_Othello_: Rossi acted in association with Louise Muldener and he played
at the Baldwin for one week,--closing with “Edmund Kean.” Attendance
throughout his engagement was paltry--the treasury was empty--neither
Baldwin nor anybody else would advance more money to Maguire--and the
end had come. To Belasco it came as a relief. “The last year or so at
the Baldwin,” he has declared to me, “was a good deal of a nightmare.
Although Maguire and I had our differences, I liked him, I pitied him,
and I stuck to him till the end. But my salary and my royalties were
often unpaid: we had much trouble with our actors, so that sometimes I
had to bring in amateurs who wanted experience and would play for
nothing, or, sometimes, even pay for an opportunity to go on! I not only
was stage manager, but I painted scenery, played parts when we were left
in the lurch, helped in the front of the house, attended to the
advertising, and even borrowed money for Maguire, whenever I could. But
the Rossi engagement was the last straw. Baldwin’s lawyer notified
Maguire that the theatre was up for lease--and I was glad when it was
all over.”
BELASCO AND GUSTAVE FROHMAN.--THEY REVIVE “THE OCTOROON.”
Nobody, however, seems to have been eager to rush in where so many
others had recently failed, and the Baldwin, except for a couple of
benefits (the first, a performance of “Chispa,” May 18, given for Phœbe
Davis, under direction of J. R. Grismer; the second, given May 27, a
revival of “The New Magdalen,” for the public favorite Mrs. Judah),
remained closed for about two months. During that period Gustave
Frohman, the eldest of three brothers influentially associated with the
American Stage, came to San Francisco, as representative of the
proprietors of the New York Madison Square Theatre, in charge of a
company headed by Charles Walter Couldock and Effie Ellsler, presenting
“Hazel Kirke.” With Gustave Frohman Belasco immediately formed a
friendly acquaintance which vitally affected his subsequent career.
“Hazel Kirke” was brought forward at the California Theatre on May
30--and even before that presentment had been made Belasco had suggested
to Frohman another venture. This was a “sensation revival” of the old
play of “The Octoroon.” Calender’s Colored Minstrels had just concluded
an engagement at Emerson’s Standard Theatre, and it was part of
Belasco’s scheme to employ that negro company and make use of it as
auxiliary to performance of Boucicault’s play. Gustave Frohman acceded
to Belasco’s suggestion, arranged for the proposed appearance of
Callender’s Minstrels, leased the Baldwin Theatre, and there revived
“The Octoroon,” on June 12, at low prices,--twenty-five to seventy-five
cents. This shrewdly conceived enterprise was, because of Belasco’s
felicitous treatment of old material and his skilful direction of the
players, an instant popular success. A contemporaneous commentator
writes about it as follows:
“The present management has engaged the best professional talent
the city affords, and has put it under the direction of a stage
manager who can make the most of it.... Without a single strong
feature in the cast, with possibly the exception of the
_Wah-no-tee_ of George Osborne, there were effects introduced which
give more than their ordinary interest to the performance. The
clever pen of Mr. Belasco had evidently elaborated the auction
scenes, and the scene in which _Salem Scudder_ saves the _Indian_
from the mob....”
This was the cast:
_Jacob McCloskey_ Harry Colton.
_Salem Scudder_ Edward Marble.
_Wah-no-tee_ George Osborne.
_George Peyton_ W. T. Doyle.
“_Uncle_” _Pete_ Edward Barrett.
_Mr. Sunnyside_ R. G. Marsh.
_Lafouche_ Mr. Foster.
_Paul_ Kitty Belmour.
_Ratts_ Joseph W. Francœur.
_Colonel Poindexter_ Thomas Gossman.
_Julius Thibodeaux_ Logan Paul.
_Judge Caillou_ George Galloway.
_Jackson_ George Stevens.
_Solon_ Mr. McIntosh.
_Zoe_, _the Octoroon_ Mrs. F. M. Bates.
_Dora Sunnyside_ Abbie Pierce.
_Mrs. Peyton_ Jean Clara Walters.
_Grace_ Lillie Owen.
_Dido_ Mrs. Weston.
_Minnie_ Kate Foust.
In making this revival of “The Octoroon” Belasco employed the “altered
and retouched” version of it, prepared by him, which had been acted
under his direction at the Baldwin July 8, 1878,--still further varying
and expanding several scenes of the original. The most popular variety
features, dances, “specialties,” and songs of the minstrel show were
deftly interwoven with the fabric of the drama, being utilized with
pleasing effect in an elaborate representation of the slave quarters by
moonlight, and in the first and fourth scenes of the Last Act: in the
latter the slaves were shown, slowly making their way homeward, at
evening, through the cotton fields, singing as they went, and the result
was extraordinarily picturesque and impressive. More than 150 persons,
besides the actors of the chief characters, participated in the
performance, and the slave sale and the burning of the river steamboat
Magnolia were portrayed with notable semblance of actuality. Writing to
me, Belasco says: “I used a panorama, painted on several hundred yards
of canvas, and I introduced drops, changing scenes in the twinkling of
an eye, showing, alternately and in quick succession, pursued and
pursuer,--_Jacob McCloskey_ and the _Indian_,--making their way through
the canebrake and swamp, and ending with the life and death struggle and
the killing of _McCloskey_. I must say the people were wildly
enthusiastic and I was proud of the whole production. _I_ thought the
acting very good.”
“AMERICAN BORN.”
“The Octoroon” was played for two weeks and then, June 26, gave place to
“Caryswold,” an inconsequential play which Belasco
tinkered,--introducing into it a “Fire Scene, showing the destruction of
a Mad-House,” suggested by the terrible passage in Reade’s “Hard Cash,”
descriptive of the burning of an asylum for the insane and the escape of
_Alfred Hardy_. Ada Ward, an English actress, who came from Australia,
acted the principal part in it.
Gustave Frohman’s lease of the Baldwin Theatre expired on July 1, and on
the 3rd Jay Rial, having hired the house for a week, presented “Uncle
Tom’s Cabin” there. On July 10 occurred the last event of the first
period of Belasco’s theatrical life,--the presentment at the Baldwin of
“American Born.” Edward Marble, an actor who had come to San Francisco
as a member of the “Hazel Kirke” company, was advertised as lessee of
the theatre and the play was brought out under the auspices of Gustave
Frohman. It was a free adaptation by Belasco of “British Born,” by Paul
Merritt and Henry Pettitt, and was a wild and whirling, spread-eagle,
bugle-blowing melodrama, in which the heroine, at a climax of desperate
adventure, saves her lover from being shot to death by Bolivian soldiers
by wrapping him in a flag of the United States. Its production was
chiefly remarkable for handsome scenic investiture and a really
impressive portrayal of a volcano in furious eruption. This was the cast
of “American Born”:
_IN THE PROLOGUE._
_Laban Brood_ John W. Jennings.
_George Seymour_ Joseph R. Grismer.
_Fred Faggles_ John Dillon.
_John Hope_ A. D. Bradley.
_Captain Jabez Dolman_ M. A. Kennedy.
_Constable_ George H. McCormack.
_Messenger_ Edgar Wilton.
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO AS _UNCLE TOM_, IN “UNCLE TOM’S CABIN”
Photograph by Houseworth, San Francisco.
Original loaned by Mrs. David Belasco.]
_Mary Hope_ Ada Ward.
_Nancy Treat_ Ada Gilman.
_IN THE DRAMA._
_Don Andre de Calderone_ George Osborne.
_John Hope_ A. D. Bradley.
_George Seymour_ Joseph R. Grismer.
_Fred Faggles_ John Dillon.
_Sylvester (alias Laban Brood)_ John W. Jennings.
_Juddle (alias Captain Dolman)_ M. A. Kennedy.
_Tom Morris_ Joseph W. Francœur.
_Jumbo_ George H. McCormack.
_Landro_ Edgar Wilton.
_Mary Hope_ Ada Ward.
_Nancy Treat_ Ada Gilman.
FIRST MEETING WITH CHARLES FROHMAN.
Belasco was, during one period of his life, closely allied to Charles
Frohman. Later, after Frohman had, with others, formed the iniquitous
Theatrical Syndicate, he was, for many years, resolutely and rightly,
antagonistic to him. Age and change, however, sometimes wear out
antagonisms, and those estranged friends were reconciled not long before
Frohman’s death in the Lusitania murder: the last production made by
Frohman was a revival, at the Empire Theatre, New York, April 7, 1915,
in association with Belasco, of “A Celebrated Case.” The first meeting
of those managers occurred in San Francisco, while Belasco was
rehearsing “American Born.” He has made this record of that significant
incident:
“Charles Frohman came to San Francisco at the head of the Haverley
Minstrels. Gustave Frohman told me he thought his brother and I
should meet. The artists of the town had a rendezvous at a
Rathskeller at the corner of Kearny and Sutter streets, where we
were in the habit of gathering after the theatre. Gustave Frohman
and I were at a table, when he exclaimed: ’There’s my brother
Charlie!’ I looked at Charles, our eyes met. We bowed. That was our
introduction. We never had a formal one, Charles Frohman and I; we
just knew each other.... He came to see ’American Born,’ was
favorably impressed by it, and conceived the idea of forming a
company and taking the play East. We selected Chicago as the best
starting point for an Eastern tour and set busily to work to
organize our company and arrange details of the business.”
EASTWARD, HO!
While Belasco was thus busily engaged with preparation for the
presentment in Chicago of his drama of “American Born,” a proposal was
made to him by Daniel Frohman, business manager of the Madison Square
Theatre, New York, through his brother, Gustave Frohman, that he should
undertake, on trial, the stage management of that theatre. The
opportunity thus offered was alluring, and, having ascertained that he
might improve it without detriment to his purposed venture in Chicago,
Belasco determined to seek once more for the success in the metropolis
of the country which had long been the chief object of his ambition. He
accepted the proposal, and likewise he accepted an invitation to work
his way eastward as stage manager of the [Gustave] Frohman Dramatic
Company. That company, organized in San Francisco, included Ada Ward,
“Virgie” Emily, Abbie Pierce, “Rellie” Davis, “Jennie” Lamont, Charles
Wheatleigh, M. A. Kennedy, John Dillon, George Osborne, “Harry” Colton,
W. F. Doyle, Joseph W. Francœur, Logan Paul, and Hawley Chapman. It left
San Francisco, on or about July 18, 1882, to perform in towns and cities
of Colorado, and on July 31 began an engagement at Denver, where it
played for two weeks during the Industrial and Mining Exposition held in
that city. The repertory comprised “The Octoroon,” “East Lynne,” “Mary
Warner,” “Our Boys,” “Leah the Forsaken,” “The Woman in Red,”
“Arrah-na-Pogue,” and “American Born.”
At, apparently, about the time when Maguire ceased to be potent in San
Francisco theatrical affairs Belasco received a personal letter from F.
F. Mackaye (himself an excellent stage manager and a severe judge of
achievement in that vocation), which,--because it is representative of
the advice of several friendly admirers in the same period, and because
it had some influence on his decision to accept the Frohman
proposals,--may appropriately be printed here:
(_F. F. Mackaye to David Belasco._)
“Hotel, Pike’s Peak,
“Colorado (date? 1881-82?).
“My dear Belasco:--
“I fear that I hardly appreciated you fully while under your
direction in San Francisco: but I think I have done so since we
have been here, and my daily toil has placed me under the direction
of Mr. S----. He seems a very clever man. Yet his lack of form, of
constructive direction, is very much felt by one who has had the
pleasure of being under your direction at the Baldwin. I sometimes
wonder _why_ you have stayed so long in the West. I know some
people who have been there all their lives think it the greatest
place in the world, but I am sure that if you were to go to New
York, which is really the centre of art in the United States, your
work would be more fully recognized and appreciated. I feel that a
man of your progressive mood should not be content to remain on the
outside of the world when you could just as well be in the middle
of it. I am sure that your final efforts, or, rather, that your
continuous efforts should be made in the city of New York, where
you would be rightly appreciated.
“I wouldn’t say one word in disparagement of the people of San
Francisco: they have treated me splendidly. But I tell you New York
is the place, and I have had long experience. I began this
profession in 1851, and you are the first director that I have met
in that time and felt that he really loved the work he was
doing--and we know very well that, however much a man may know
about any art,
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony.
Belasco’s Collection.
F. F. MACKAYE]
[Illustration:
Photograph by Bradley & Rulofson, S. F.
Courtesy of Mrs. Frohman Davidson.
GUSTAVE FROHMAN]
unless he loves the work he is doing there is always a lack of
interest which the public is sure to detect. Don’t for one moment
think that I try to flatter you by these remarks. I say these
things because I love the Art of Acting very much, and I have found
your love and sympathy for it so great that I dearly and sincerely
admire your work. Long may you live to continue in the labor which
is always good for the art and instructive for the public!
“With very sincere regards, and hoping to see you again, I am,
“Yours very sincerely,
“F. F. Mackaye.”
* * * * *
A RETROSPECT.
Belasco was only twenty-nine years old when he brought his career in San
Francisco to an end and embarked on the venture which was at last to
establish him in the Theatre of New York. He had been eleven years on
the stage. A brief retrospect and summary of his early achievement will
be useful here. Throughout his life he had enjoyed the blessing of
family affection, admiration, and sympathy, and he had received
respectable schooling. Otherwise, his experience had been one of
unremitting, strenuous, often anxious, toil; frequent hardship,
injustice, disappointment,--in short, a painfully laborious struggle. He
had been, in childhood, a circus rider, a newsboy, a messenger, a
willing, helpful drudge, a shopboy in a cigar factory and in a
bookstore; then, as he grew older, a scribbler for the newspapers, a
salesman of haberdashery, an itinerant peddler, a strolling player, a
reader and reciter, a mimic, a theatrical manager, an agent “in advance”
of theatrical companies, a teacher of acting, a scene painter, a stage
manager, and a playwright. He had seen much of the best acting of his
period and had been intimately associated with many leaders of the
Stage,--sometimes as student and assistant, sometimes as adviser and
director. He had acted, in all sorts of circumstances and in all sorts
of places, more than 170 parts,--ranging from mere bits to characters of
the highest and most exacting order. He had altered, adapted, rewritten,
or written more than 100 plays and he had been the responsible director
in the production of more than three times that number. A catalogue is
seldom interesting reading; nevertheless, students of the Theatre and of
Belasco’s extraordinary career will do well to ponder the following
significant though incomplete schedule of the plays set upon the stage
under his direction prior to midsummer, 1882:
“Agnes.”
“Aladdin No. 2; or, The Wonderful Scamp.”
“Alixe.”
“Alphonse.”
“American Born.”
“Amy Robsart.”
Apostate,” “The.
“Arrah-na-Pogue.”
“Article 47.”
Assommoir,” “L’.
“As You Like It.”
“Aurora Floyd.”
Ballad Monger,” “The.
Belle Russe,” “La.
Bells,” “The.
“Belphegor.”
“Bianca.”
“Black-Ey’d Susan.”
“Bleak House.”
“Blow for Blow.”
Bold Stroke for a Husband,” “A.
Bull in a China Shop,” “A.
“Camille.”
“Caste.”
Celebrated Case,” “A.
“Checkmate.”
“Cherry and Fair Star.”
Child of the Regiment,” “The.
“Clouds and Sunshine.”
“Colleen Bawn.”
Corsican Brothers,” “The.
“Court and Stage.”
Cricket on the Hearth,” “The.
Curse of Cain,” “The.
“Damon and Pythias.”
“David Copperfield.”
Dead Heart,” “The.
“Dearer than Life.”
“Diplomacy.”
“Divorce.”
Doll Master,” “The.
“Dombey & Son.”
“Don Cæsar de Bazan.”
“Donna Diana.”
“Dora.”
Duke’s Motto,” “The.
“East Lynne.”
“Edmund Kean.”
“Elizabeth, Queen of England.”
Enchantress,” “The.
“Enoch Arden.”
Eviction,” “The.
“False Shame.”
“Fanchette.”
Fast Family,” “A.
“Fire-Fly.”
Fool of the Family,” “The.
Fool’s Revenge,” “The.
“Forget Me Not.”
Forty Thieves,” “The.
French Spy,” “The.
“Frou-Frou.”
Gamester,” “The.
“Green Bushes.”
Green Lanes of England,” “The.
“Guy Mannering.”
“Hamlet.”
Happy Pair,” “A.
“Hearts of Oak.”
Heir-at-Law,” “The.
“Henry Dunbar.”
“He Would and He Would Not!”
Hidden Hand,” “The.
“His Last Legs.”
“Home.”
Honeymoon,” “The.
“How She Loves Him.”
Hunchback,” “The.
“Hunted Down.”
Idiot of the Mountains,” “The.
“Ingomar.”
“Ireland and America.”
“Ireland as It Was.”
“Jack Sheppard.”
“Jane Eyre.”
“Jane Shore.”
Jealous Wife,” “The.
“Jessie Brown; or, The Relief of Lucknow.”
Jibbenainosay,” “The.
“Jones’ Baby.”
“Julius Cæsar.”
“King John.”
“King Louis XI.”
“King Richard III.”
“Lady Audley’s Secret.”
“Lady Madge.”
Lady of Lyons,” “The.
“Leah the Forsaken.”
Little Detective,” “The.
“Little Katy.”
“Loan of a Lover.”
“London Assurance.”
Lone Pine,” “The.
“Lost in London.”
“Love.”
Love Chase,” “The.
“Love’s Sacrifice.”
“Loyal Till Death.”
“Lucretia Borgia.”
“Macbeth.”
Marble Heart,” “The.
“Marie Antoinette.”
“Mary Stuart.”
“Masks and Faces.”
Merchant of Venice,” “The.
Millionaire’s Daughter,” “The.
“Miss Multon.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Peter White.”
“Money.”
Moonlight Marriage,” “The.
“Nan, the Good-for-Nothing.”
New Babylon,” “The.
New Magdalen,” “The.
“Nicholas Nickleby.”
“Nita; or, Woman’s Constancy.”
“Not Guilty.”
“Notre Dame.”
Octoroon,” “The.
“Oliver Twist.”
“Olivia.”
“One Hundred Years Old.”
“Othello.”
“Ours.”
“Out at Sea.”
Passion Play,” “The.
“Paul Arniff.”
Pearl of Savoy,” “The.
People’s Lawyer,” “The.
Pet of the Petticoats,” “The.
“Pique.”
“Proof Positive.”
“Pygmalion and Galatea.”
Regular Fix,” “A.
“Richelieu.”
“Robert Macaire.”
“Romeo and Juliet.”
“Rule a Wife and Have a Wife.”
“Ruy Blas.”
“Sarah’s Young Man.”
“School.”
School for Scandal,” “The.
Scottish Chiefs,” “The.
Scrap of Paper,” “A.
“Seraphine.”
Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing,” “A.
“She Stoops to Conquer.”
Spectre Bridegroom,” “The.
Stranger,” “The.
Stranglers of Paris,” “The.
Streets of New York,” “The.
“Struck Blind.”
“Sylvia’s Lovers.”
Ticket-of-Leave Man,” “The.
Toodles,” “The.
“True to the Core.”
Two Orphans,” “The.
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
“Under the Gas-Light.”
Unequal Match,” “The.
Uppercrust,” “The.
“Venice Preserved.”
Wandering Heir,” “The.
“War to the Knife.”
Wicked World,” “The.
“Wild Oats.”
Willing Hand,” “The.
Within an Inch of His Life.”
Woman in Red,” “The.
Woman of the People,” “A.
“Won at Last.”
Wonder,” “The.
Minute exposition of all the early dramatic works of Belasco is not
practicable; a succinct estimate of their quality will suffice here.
Crudity is often obvious in them--as it is in the early works of almost
all writers--and it sometimes is notably visible in the sentiment and
the style. Nevertheless, they display the operation of a mind naturally
prone to the dramatic form of expression, frequently animated by the
vitality of its own experience, steadily if slowly growing in
self-mastery of its faculties, and at once keenly observant of, and
quickly sympathetic with, contrasted aspects of life. Along with
defects,--namely, perverse preoccupation with non-essential details,
occasional verbosity, extravagant premises, and involved
construction,--they exhibit expert inventive ability, perspicacious
sense of character, acute perception of strong dramatic climax, the
faculty of humor, much tenderness of heart, wide knowledge of human
misery and human joy, special sympathy with woman, and the skill to tell
a story in action. Belasco’s dramatic works, before he left San
Francisco, exceed not only in number but in merit and practical utility
those of many other writers produced as the whole labor of a long
lifetime, and the basis of reputation and respect: at least two of his
early plays--“Hearts of Oak” and “La Belle Russe”--were, even before he
came to the East, gaining fortunes--for other persons. And for a long,
long while afterward other persons were to enjoy the chief profit of his
labor: it was not until more than thirteen years later that he was able
to launch a successful play,--“The Heart of Maryland,”--and retain
personal control of it.
* * * * *
A SECOND VENTURE IN CHICAGO.--THE LAST OF “AMERICAN BORN.”
Gustave Frohman (who left San Francisco on August 8, 1882, to join his
brother Charles, in Chicago, relative to a consolidation of Callender’s
and Haverley’s minstrel shows) appears to have disbanded his dramatic
company in Denver. At any rate, I have found no further record of it,
and Belasco’s play of “American Born” was successfully produced at the
Grand Opera House, Chicago, apparently under the joint management of
Gustave and Charles Frohman, on August 16.
I have not been able to ascertain, independently, whether or not Charles
Frohman travelled to the East with his brother’s dramatic company.
According to the “Life of Charles Frohman,” that manager left San
Francisco as agent for Haverley’s Mastodon Minstrels and relinquished
his position in Indianapolis. According to Belasco’s memory, he and
Charles Frohman travelled together coming East from San Francisco, in
which case the latter, probably, was business agent of his brother’s
company. In this biography I have seldom placed reliance on Belasco’s
memory, except when I have verified his recollections by records
contemporary with the incidents discussed,--because I have found that
(as he has several times testified in court) he has “no head for dates.”
In this matter, however, I believe that his remembrance is accurate.
This is his statement of the facts as he recalls them:
“During the trip to Chicago, where I was to halt for the first
performance of ’American Born’ at Hamlin’s Opera House, Charles
Frohman and I became fast friends. We instinctively understood each
other as though we had been acquainted for years. When we reached
Chicago we found that Samuel Colville was about to produce Henry
Pettitt’s ’Taken from Life,’ at McVicker’s, and Charles Frohman was
quick to see that there would be great rivalry between Colville’s
production and ours. A point in our favor was that the people at
McVicker’s were no more ready than we. The rival play was to
exploit scenery made from English models, and the advertising
announced from fifteen to twenty big scenes. We saw that our
comparatively modest production would not do, and decided to
improve it, working night and day. We strengthened our company by
engaging George Clarke, who was at odds with Daly; ’Harry’
Courtaine, who was passing through the West, and Ada Warde, who had
just returned from Australia. The race to see which would open
first was closely contested. By a shrewd move on the part of ’C.
F.’ our play was announced for a certain evening; then we worked
like demons to give it three nights sooner. In this way we were
ready first. Though we went through the first night without any
serious mishaps, ’Harry’ Courtaine was taken ill in the Second Act,
and I had to step into his part myself. But we had a great success
and astonished our audience with twenty-one scenes, each a
sensation!
“After our engagement was finished inducements came to me from all
quarters to give up my New York opportunity and continue with
’American Born.’ I knew there was a fortune in the play, but I was
loath to come East with the reputation of a writer and producer of
highly sensational melodrama. I had an uneasy feeling that it would
hurt me with the powers at the Madison Square. Of course I could
have kept my interest in ’American Born’ without letting my name
appear, but I was going to a new land, practically to begin all
over again, and I wanted to enter it free of any possible handicap.
So I took the claptrap manuscript and burned it.”
Soon after making that fiery purgation Belasco left Chicago and came to
New York to confront Daniel Frohman and negotiate concerning employment
under that manager.
THE MADISON SQUARE THEATRE.
The Madison Square Theatre, situated on the south side of Twenty-fourth
Street, a little way westward from Madison Square and adjacent to the
old Fifth Avenue Hotel, stood on the site of what had been Daly’s first
Fifth Avenue Theatre, opened August 17, 1869, and burnt down January 1,
1873. That site had, previous to 1869, been for several years occupied
by a building, erected in the Civil War time, by Amos R. Eno, and
devoted to public amusements. I remember it as once the professional
abode of negro minstrels, and again as a sort of vaudeville theatre
conducted by a journalist, then well-known, Thaddeus W. Meighan
(1821-18--). In 1868 the notorious James Fisk, Jr., acquired control of
it, and, in a much improved condition, it was opened, January 25, 1869,
as Brougham’s Theatre, and such it continued to be until the following
April 3, when Fisk summarily ousted Brougham and presently installed a
company of French performers in opera bouffe, headed by Mlle. Irma. A
few weeks later Augustin Daly obtained a lease of the building from
Fisk, made extensive alterations in it, and opened it as the Fifth
Avenue Theatre. Some time after its destruction by fire, in 1873, it was
rebuilt, and presently it was leased by James Steele Mackaye
(1842-1894), an actor and manager of rare talent and eccentric
character, who named it the Madison Square Theatre, and opened it, April
23, 1879, with a revival (as “Aftermath; or, Won at Last”) of his play
which had originally and successfully been produced, as “Won at Last,”
December 10, 1877, at Wallack’s Theatre. Later, Mackaye formed an
association with the Mallory brothers,--the Rev. Dr. George Mallory,
editor of an ecclesiastical newspaper called “The Churchman,” and
Marshall H. Mallory, a highly energetic and enterprising man of
business,--the Mallorys becoming the proprietors of the theatre and
Mackaye the manager. Under this new control great changes were made in
the building; the auditorium was newly and richly decorated, a double
stage, which could be raised and lowered, thus facilitating changes of
scene, was introduced (the device of Mackaye), on a plan somewhat
similar to that which had been successfully adopted ten years earlier by
Edwin Booth, at Booth’s Theatre; a strong dramatic company was
organized, and on February 4, 1880, the house was opened, with a drama
by Mackaye, called “Hazel Kirke,” a rehash of an earlier play by him,
called “An Iron Will,” which, in turn, had been adapted from a French
drama.
“Hazel Kirke” met with extraordinary success, chiefly because of the
superb impersonation of its central character, _Dunstan Kirke_, by
Charles Walter Couldock (1815-1898). It was acted 486 consecutive times,
at the Madison Square, and subsequently it was performed all over the
country. Couldock withdrew from the cast, temporarily, after the 200th
performance in New York, and Mackaye succeeded him. The run of “Hazel
Kirke” at the Madison Square terminated on May 31, 1881, and on June 1
it was succeeded by William Gillette’s farce of “The Professor,” which
held the stage till October 29, following, when it gave place to a play
called “Esmeralda,” by Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, which had 350
performances. Meanwhile Mackaye had become dissatisfied with his
position and had determined to withdraw from it. His contract with the
Mallorys, as he told me at that time (for I knew him well and he often
talked with me about his affairs), had been heedlessly made and largely
to his disadvantage. Contract or no contract, Mackaye and the Mallorys
could not have long remained in association on amicable terms, because
they were as antagonistic as fire and water. Mackaye was a wayward
genius, of poetic temperament, wildly enthusiastic, impetuous,
capricious, volatile, prone to extravagant fancies and bold experiments,
and completely unsympathetic with regulative, Sunday-school morality.
The Mallorys, on the contrary, were shrewd, practical business men, in
no way visionary, thoroughly conventional in character,--in fact, moral
missionaries, intent on making the Theatre a sort of auxiliary to the
Church, their whole scheme of theatrical management being, originally,
to profit by the patronage of the Christian public. Some persons, like
some things, are incompatible. Mackaye resigned and withdrew while
“Esmeralda” was still current, and thus the office was left vacant to
which David Belasco succeeded.
BELASCO AT THE MADISON SQUARE.
On reaching New York and presenting himself at the Madison Square
Theatre as a candidate for the office of stage manager,--or, as it is
now often and incorrectly designated, “producer,”--Belasco was subjected
to minute interrogation, first by Daniel Frohman, the business manager,
and then by both the Mallorys. This ordeal appears to have been
rigorous, but it was satisfactorily ended and the appointment was duly
made. Belasco remembers that, after a long conversation, the Rev. Dr.
Mallory remarked, “I’m glad you have laid such small stress on the
melodramatic emotions of life, for here we are trying to uphold those
emotions which are common to us in our daily existence.” By what means
the candidate contrived to convey that impression to his clerical
inquisitor must remain a mystery, because in all Belasco’s views of
dramatic composition, and in all his contributions to it, the most
prominent and obvious fact is his propensity to melodrama,--meaning the
drama of startling situation and striking stage effect. Dion Boucicault
was the originator and the denominator of “the sensation drama,” and
David Belasco has been, from the first, and is now, a conspicuously
representative exponent of it. He was approved, however, he entered at
once on the performance of his duties, and thus began his permanent
connection with the New York Stage.
It is doubtful whether Belasco decided wisely when he accepted the
office of stage manager of the Madison Square Theatre, under the Mallory
management. His play of “American Born” having succeeded in Chicago, he
might have accumulated capital from its success and from other
resources, and so happily escaped from an association which imposed on
him a heavy burden of exacting labor, without advantage of public
recognition, and without adequate monetary recompense. He believes,
however, that his acceptance of that office laid the cornerstone of his
success. Conjecture now is useless. He did accept the office, and he
held it, industriously and honorably, for about three years. The terms
of his contract with the Mallorys, as he has stated them to me (the
original document, I understand, perished in the San Francisco
earthquake fire), were, in my judgment, iniquitously unjust to him. As
stage manager he was obligated to render all his services to the Madison
Square Theatre management,--that is, to the Mallorys. His salary was $35
a week for the first season, $45 a week for the second season, and
thereafter to be increased in the same proportion the third, fourth, and
fifth seasons. The contract was to continue in force for five years,
unless the Mallorys should become dissatisfied. The Mallorys further
acquired, by the terms of the agreement, a first option on any play he
might write during the period of his employment by them. If a play of
his were accepted and produced by them he was to be paid $10 a night,
and $5 for each matinée, during its representation,--a possible $70 a
week. Furthermore, if a play, or plays, of his which had been rejected
by the Mallorys should be accepted and produced by another management,
Belasco was to pay to the Mallorys one-half of all royalties he might
receive from such play or plays. In Charles Reade’s powerful novel “It’s
Never Too Late to Mend” one of the persons, expostulating with the
honest old Jew, _Isaac Levi_, who has declared his intention to leave
the Australian goldfields, exclaims: “But, if _you_ go, who is to buy
our gold-dust?” To this inquiry _Levi_ replies, “There are the
_Christian_ merchants”; whereupon the other earnestly rejoins, “Oh, but
they are such damned _Jews_!” Perhaps some such thought as this passed
through the mind of the Jew Belasco as he signed his bond with his
Christian employers. He has been successful and has risen in eminence,
but his experience has been far from tranquil,--has been, on the
contrary, one of much painful vicissitude and many hardships. At the
Madison Square and at several other theatres with which, later, he
became associated his labors were, for a long time, as far as the public
was concerned, conducted almost entirely under the surface. He worked
hard, his industry being incessant, and it was useful to many persons,
but his name was seldom or never mentioned in public or in print. The
managers by whom he was employed, while utilizing his talent, may almost
be said to have been intent on hindering his advancement,--that is,
David Belasco, as stage manager, hack dramatist, and general factotum,
would be far more useful to those persons than David Belasco,
independent and recognized dramatist and theatrical manager, could ever
be, and therefore he was repressed: the terms, above stated, of his
first Madison Square Theatre contract and the conditions of all his
labor during the thirteen years or so succeeding 1882 disclose his
situation. He, nevertheless, made his way, slowly but surely, by
patient, persistent effort, by the repeated manifestation of special
skill in stage management, by felicity as a mender of plays, and by good
judgment in the assembling of companies and the casting of parts. At the
Madison Square Theatre he was materially benefited by Bronson Howard’s
public recognition of his service in having, with the sanction and
approval of that author, made minor emendations of the play of “Young
Mrs. Winthrop,”--the first play presented there under his
direction,--and in having placed it on the stage in a correct, tasteful,
and effective manner,--recognition expressed in terms of cordial
compliment, on the night of its first performance, October 9, 1882.
Among the plays which were produced at the Madison Square Theatre, under
Belasco’s efficient and admirable supervision, subsequent to the
presentment of “Young Mrs. Winthrop,” were Mrs. Burton N. Harrison’s “A
Russian Honeymoon,” April 9, 1883; William Young’s “The Rajah; or,
Wyndcot’s Ward,” June 5, 1883; Henry C. De Mille’s “Delmar’s
Daughter,”--which failed,--December 10, 1883; and Hjalmar Hjorth
Boyesen’s “Alpine Roses,” January 31, 1884. Mrs. Harrison’s “A Russian
Honeymoon,” one of those exotics that bloom in select society, had been
acted, in private, December, 1882, by amateurs, prior to its exposure to
the profane gaze,--the amateur company including Mrs. Bradley Martin,
Mrs. William C. Whitney, Mrs. August Belmont, and Mrs. Cora Urquhart
Potter,--and thus had obtained social patronage which was specially
advantageous to it when shown in the theatre. A revival of “The Rajah”
occurred on December 17, 1883. Boyesen’s “Alpine Roses” ran till April
10, 1884. Belasco’s treatment of all those plays redounded to his
credit, but his first signal personal victory ensued on the production
of his play called “May Blossom,” effected April 12, 1884.
“MAY BLOSSOM.”
The Mallorys, he has told me, did not like this play, because of the
character of its chief male part, did not wish to present it, and did
so, finally, with reluctance, after strong opposition, and only because
another play which they were preparing to produce was not ready. “May
Blossom” pleased the public and kept its place on the Madison Square
stage for nearly five months. The 100th performance of it occurred on
July 21, the 150th on September 9, and, on September 27, 1884, its first
run was ended: it is included in French’s Miscellaneous Drama, being No.
59,--but the version of it there published is not the authentic text of
Belasco’s prompt book as used at the Madison Square Theatre: it is
printed from a manuscript furnished by Gustave Frohman.
That play, which marks the beginning of Belasco’s lasting achievement as
a dramatist, claims particular consideration as representative of the
character of his mind, the peculiarity of his method of dramatic
mechanism, and the quality of his style. He has written better plays
than “May Blossom,”--plays which are more symmetrical because more
deftly constructed and more fluent and rapid in movement, plays which
contain more substantial and interesting character, more knowledge of
human nature, and more stress of feeling,--but he has written no play
that more distinctly manifests his strength and his weakness, his scope
and his limitations,--what, intrinsically, he is as a dramatist.
_May Blossom_ is the daughter of an old fisherman, resident in a village
on the coast of Chesapeake Bay, Virginia, in and some time after the
period of the American Civil War. She is beloved by two young men,
_Richard Ashcroft_ and _Steve Harland_, both estimable and both by her
esteemed. Each of those lovers, on the same day, asks her to become his
wife. She accepts the proposal of _Ashcroft_, whom she loves, and in
rejecting that of _Harland_ apprises him of her betrothal to his rival,
who is also one of his friends. _Harland_, though bitterly wounded,
accepts her decision in a right and manly spirit. Later, _Ashcroft_, who
is sympathetic with the Confederate cause and who has been secretly in
communication with the Confederate Army, is suddenly and privately
arrested, at night, by Federal military authorities, as a Rebel spy. The
arrest is witnessed by _Harland_, whom _Ashcroft_ beseeches to inform
_May Blossom_ of his capture and who solemnly promises to do so.
_Harland_, however, believing, or persuading himself to believe, that
_Ashcroft_ will inevitably be shot as a spy, and being infatuated by
passion, breaks his promise and permits the girl to believe that her
affianced lover has perished in a storm on Chesapeake Bay. After the
lapse of a year _Harland_, still persistent as a lover, persuades _May
Blossom_ to marry him, and for a time they dwell happily together and a
child is born to them. On the second anniversary of their wedding, just
before the occurrence of a domestic festival which their friends have
arranged in their honor, _Ashcroft_, having escaped from prison, arrives
at their home, and, in an interview with _May_, tells her of his arrest
and imprisonment, and of _Harland’s_ promise, and so reveals her
husband’s treachery. _Harland_ is confronted by them and a scene of
painful crimination ensues. _Ashcroft_, maddened by jealousy, declares
his purpose of forcible abduction of _May_, who, thereupon, speaking as
a wife and mother, repels him. _Ashcroft_ departs. _Harland_ can plead
no defence for his perfidy in breaking his promise to _Ashcroft_ except
the overwhelming strength of his great love, and his wife is agonized
and horrified. The domestic festival, nevertheless, is permitted to
proceed. The guests arrive. The miserable husband and wife, masking
their wretchedness in smiles, are constrained to participate in
merrymaking, and finally are caused by the village pastor to kneel
before him, receive his blessing, and embrace and kiss each other, after
which ceremonial their guests depart and they are left alone. Then
_Harland_, condemning himself and feeling that his wife can no longer
love him, leaves her, purposing to join the Rebel Army. Their separation
lasts six years. _Ashcroft_ is heard of no more. _Harland_ survives and
ultimately returns to his Virginia home, where a reconciliation is
effected between him and his wife, partly by the benevolent offices of
the village pastor, but more because _May_ has realized that she truly
loves him, and because the inevitable action of time has dissipated her
resentment of a wrong.
The analyzer of the drama that tells this story perceives in it a
constructive mind that is imaginative, romantic, and eccentric, an
ardently vehement faculty of expression, and a nimble fancy intent on
devising pictorial and pathetic situations, while often heedless of
probability--sometimes even of possibility. Things happen not because
they would, in actual life, so happen, under the pressure of
circumstances, but because the dramatist ordains them to occur, to suit
his necessity. Experience has taught the indiscretion of declaring that
_anything_ is _impossible_, but it is at least highly improbable that a
good man would, in any circumstances, break a promise solemnly made to a
friend whom he believed was about to die. _Harland_ is depicted as a
gentleman and one of deep feeling. _Ashcroft’s_ death, if _Harland_
considers it to be inevitable, would at once relieve him of any need to
break his promise, even if he had been ever so strongly tempted to do
so: doubt of _Ashcroft’s_ death would inspire far more poignant remorse
and fear than _Harland_ actually denotes. _May Blossom_, furthermore,
would not have omitted to inquire, with far more insistence than she is
represented to have shown, into the disappearance of the lover to whom
she is betrothed. _Ashcroft_, though a prisoner, would have been
permitted to communicate with his friends, since at his trial nothing
was proved against him,--yet he was still held in captivity. It is
questionable whether the manly _Harland_, a thoroughly good fellow,
would have married _May Blossom_, however much he might have loved her,
knowing that she loved another man. It is more than questionable whether
_May_, having married _Harland_ and borne a child to him, would have
repudiated her husband, would have acquiesced in his parting from her
and their child, because of the particular wrong that he had done in
breaking his promise to _Ashcroft_. The sin that a man commits out of
the uncontrollable love that he feels for a woman is, of all sins, the
one that she is readiest to forgive. The likelihood that _May Blossom_,
loving _Ashcroft_, betrothed to him and mourning for him, would, after
the lapse of so short a time as one year, have married anybody is,
likewise, open to doubt. Belasco, however, was bent on devising
situations, and he accomplished his purpose: grant his premises (as a
theatrical audience, in the presence of a competent performance of this
play, almost invariably will do), and his dramatic fabric captivates
entire sympathy.
I saw and recorded the first performance of “May Blossom.” The play was
then exceedingly well acted. Georgia Cayvan (1858-1906), personating the
heroine, gained the first decisive success of her career. That actress,
a handsome brunette, was fortunate in person and in temperament. Her
figure was lithe, her face was brilliantly expressive, her voice was
rich and sweet, she possessed uncommon sensibility, and she could be, at
will, ingenuously demure, artlessly girlish, authoritatively stern, or
fervently passionate. She attained distinction among American actresses
of “emotional” drama and was long and rightly a favorite on our Stage.
As _May Blossom_ she was first the lovely, simple, charming girl, and
later the grave, tranquil wife and mother. In the expression of mental
conflict she was, for a time, artificial in method, using the well-worn,
commonplace expedients of reeling, staggering, and clutching at
furniture; but she reformed that altogether, and her capability of
intense passion in repose was clearly indicated: the character was
developed and truly impersonated. Among her associates in the
representation were Joseph Wheelock, Sr. (183[8?]-1908), and William J.
LeMoyne (1831-1905), both actors of signal ability, now forgotten or
only dimly remembered. Wheelock, in his early day, was a favorite
_Romeo_. LeMoyne was an actor of rare talent and remarkable versatility.
His impersonations of eccentric, humorous, peppery old gentlemen were
among the finest and most amusing that our Stage has known. In this play
he personated _Unca Bartlett_, a benevolent, affectionate, whimsical
rural clergyman. I
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
GEORGIA CAYVAN
About 1884, when she acted in “May Blossom”] recall a somewhat painful
incident of the first night of “May Blossom,” which should be recorded
as indicative of its author’s peculiar constitution. Belasco had made
arduous efforts in preparing the play for the stage and also during the
performance of it, and when, after the last curtain, he was called and
constrained to thank his enthusiastic audience, he could hardly speak,
and after saying a few words he fainted. This collapse, genuine and, to
a hypersensitive person, natural, was, by some observers, cruelly
derided as affectation. Many persons, fortunately for themselves
superior to trepidation, seem incapable of understanding as genuine the
“fears and scruples” which sometimes overwhelm others: I remember once,
at a banquet, in Boston, to Dr. Holmes, noting with surprise the
impatience with which my table neighbor, Colonel Higginson, gazing at
Holmes,--who was trembling with excitement in view of what he had to
do,--said to me: “What’s he worried about! He has only to read some
verses!” Many years after the first presentment of “May Blossom,” which
it was my privilege to hail, the next morning, in “The New York
Tribune,” as the best new play which had, up to that time, been produced
at the Madison Square Theatre, Belasco said to me: “Your verdict meant
everything to me,--more, during the first week or two, than the public
approval. Bronson Howard’s recognition of my work in improving ’Young
Mrs. Winthrop’ and your support of my ’May Blossom’ did more to help me
break the iron ring I was shut up in in New York than everything else
put together!”
The prosperity of “May Blossom” much facilitated the progress of Belasco
toward the attainment of his ambitious object, which was the control of
a high-class theatre in New York; but he was yet to meet with
disappointments and hardships and to undergo many trials. The venomous
practice of stigmatizing him as a plagiarist, which has long prevailed,
began almost coincidentally with the success of “May Blossom.” It should
here be mentioned again that this play was transformed by him from an
earlier play of his, called “Sylvia’s Lovers,” written about 187(5?),
and first produced, in that year, at Piper’s Opera House, in Virginia
City. When he had prepared it in a new and definitive form for
presentment at the Madison Square Theatre he showed the manuscript to
Howard P. Taylor, a writer for “The New York Dramatic Mirror,” at that
time edited by Harrison Grey Fiske, and consulted him as a reputed
expert relative to historical details of the Civil War. That person had
offered to the managers of the Madison Square Theatre a play called
“Caprice” (produced August 11, 1884, at the New Park Theatre, New York,
by John A. Stevens and the author, in partnership--Minnie Maddern, now
Mrs. Fiske, being the star), which those managers rejected. After “May
Blossom” had been successfully presented, Taylor accused Belasco of
having caused the Mallory brothers to reject “Caprice,” and also with
having stolen ideas from that play,--which, as stage manager and adviser
of the Madison Square Theatre, he had seen,--and used them in “May
Blossom.” Belasco urgently requested him to make the accusation in
court, but Taylor, though he long and maliciously persisted in
publishing his defamatory charge, would never bring the matter to a
legal test. On the occasion of the 1000th performance of “May Blossom,”
at a dinner given by Daniel Frohman and “Harry” Miner, in celebration of
the event, Harrison Grey Fiske, who, at his own request, had been
included among the speakers, stated that he felt he had a duty to
perform in tendering an apology for the unfounded accusations repeatedly
made by Taylor, in “The Dramatic Mirror,” impugning the integrity of
Belasco as an author and a man.
This was the original cast of “May Blossom,” at the Madison Square:
_May Blossom_ Georgia Cayvan.
_Tom Blossom_ Benjamin Maginley.
_Steve Harland_ Joseph Wheelock, Sr.
_Richard Ashcroft_ Walden Ramsay.
_Unca Bartlett_ William J. LeMoyne.
_Owen Hathaway_ Thomas Whiffen.
_Captain Drummond_ Henry Talbot.
_Yank_ Master Tommy Russell.
_Lulu_ Little Belle.
_Deborah_ Mrs. Thomas Whiffen.
_Hank Bluster_ King Hedley.
_Hiram Sloane_ Joseph Frankau.
_Epe_ I. N. Long.
_Millie_ Etta Hawkins.
_Little May_ Carrie Elbert.
Whiffen was succeeded, as _Hathaway_, in this company, by De Wolf
Hopper,--one of the few genuine and intrinsically humorous comedians on
our Stage to-day.
FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND.--“CALLED BACK.”
In the summer of 1884 Belasco was sent to London by his employers in
order that he might see a performance of a play entitled “Called
Back,”--founded on the novel of that name by Hugh Conway,--which those
managers had bought for representation in America. He sailed aboard the
Alaska, on July 5, making his first voyage across the Atlantic, and it
was then our personal acquaintance began,--as I chanced to be a
passenger aboard the same ship. He was not, I remember, a good sailor,
and for several days he remained in seclusion, but before the end of the
voyage we met and had a pleasant conversation, and I found him then, as
I have found him since, a singularly original and interesting character
and a genial companion. He said that his stay in England would be brief,
as indeed it was, for having, on arrival in London, witnessed a
representation of “Called Back,” then being acted at the Haymarket
Theatre by Beerbohm-Tree and his dramatic company, he came back to New
York on the return voyage of the same ship that had carried him over.
His task,--which was duly performed,--was to prepare “Called Back” for
presentment at the Madison Square, but as “May Blossom” continued to be
prosperous there it was decided not to interrupt its successful run, but
to produce the new play at another theatre, and that play, accordingly,
was brought out, September 1, 1884, under Belasco’s direction, at the
Fifth Avenue Theatre, then managed by John Stetson,--the leading parts
in it being acted by Robert B. Mantell and Jessie Millward. The work
done by Belasco in connection with “Called Back” was, practically, the
last that he ever did for the Mallorys. In London the play had been so
fashioned that _Paolo Macari_ was the star part, acted by
Beerbohm-Tree. Belasco’s task, as adapter, was that of devising minor
modifications rendering the play better suited to presentment before
American audiences: it was desired that the part of _Gilbert Vaughan_
should be made as conspicuous as possible,--the Mallorys being intent to
make the most of the popularity of Mantell, who had been brilliantly
successful in “The Romany Rye” and “Fedora” and had become a favorite
with the public. _Macari_, however, remained the principal character in
the drama, and William J. Ferguson, by whom it was exceedingly well
played, maintained it in its natural place.
CHANGES AT THE MADISON SQUARE.
Material changes, meanwhile, had occurred or were then in progress in
the management of the Madison Square. Soon after Steele Mackaye left
that house Belasco’s friend Gustave Frohman, one of its attaches, had
followed him, to join in management of the new Lyceum. Charles Frohman,
who had been employed, at a salary of $100 a week, as a booking agent,
to send on tours of the country all plays that the Mallorys had
successfully produced, had withdrawn, or was about to do so, to devote
himself to ventures of his own. Daniel
[Illustration:
Photograph by Underwood & Underwood. Copyright.
Author’s Collection.
CHARLES FROHMAN]
[Illustration:
Photograph by Moffet.
Belasco’s Collection.
DANIEL FROHMAN]
Frohman, the business manager, was dissatisfied with his situation and
prospects, and his retirement soon occurred. The Mallorys were forming a
business alliance with Albert Marshall Palmer (1838-1905), when Belasco
returned from his trip to England in their interests, and on August 29,
1884, public announcement was made that Palmer had become a partner in
their enterprise. Palmer was a dictatorial person, and Belasco, much
more experienced in technical aspects of theatrical matters and far
abler as a stage director, came almost immediately into conflict with
him. The particular incident which precipitated the rupture was trivial.
At a rehearsal of “Called Back” which Belasco was conducting Palmer made
his appearance, accompanied by Boucicault. Their presence disconcerted
the actors and Belasco (as he told me) requested them to retire,
explaining the reason for that request. Boucicault, appreciating the
situation, politely said, “All right, my boy, I’ll go.” Palmer, on the
contrary, brusquely exclaimed, “I’ll be damned if you will,” and added
the assurance that he was a partner in the business and intended to be
present at all rehearsals. To this Belasco replied, “Mr. Palmer, the
actors can’t rehearse with you and Mr. Boucicault here, and if you don’t
go I shall dismiss the rehearsal,”--whereupon Palmer went. This
encounter and Palmer’s general manner satisfied Belasco that he could
not long retain his office, and although Palmer subsequently requested
him to remain at the Madison Square (after “Called Back” was safely
launched at the Fifth Avenue) and continue to rehearse the company
there, benevolently proposing that he would himself, in each case,
supervise the last two or three full rehearsals (an old theatrical
practice, whereby one man does all the work and another comes in at the
last moment to take all the credit for it, while actually doing almost
nothing), he insisted on obtaining, and did obtain, acceptance of his
resignation. The Mallorys themselves were the next to leave the Madison
Square, and on March 13, 1885, Palmer became sole manager of that
theatre.
A LABORIOUS INTERLUDE.--LYCEUM THEATRE.
After leaving that house Belasco for about two years worked as a
free-lance in the theatrical arena. One plan which he seriously
entertained and strove to accomplish in that interval was the formation
of a theatrical company, headed by himself as a star, to traverse the
country, presenting “Hamlet,” or a new, sympathetic, popular drama of
his own fabrication,--possibly to present both those plays,--in which he
might, perhaps, make a personal hit
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO AS _HAMLET_
“_Since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is ’t to leave
betimes?_”
--Act V. sc. 2
Photograph by Houseworth, San Francisco.
Original loaned by Mrs. David Belasco.]
and become as prosperous as certain other actors then were,--notably
Jefferson, as _Rip Van Winkle_, and John S. Clarke, as _Major de Boots_.
“I was keen to _act_ then,” he said to me, “and sometimes now I wish I
had stuck to it.” With him as with most other persons, however, the path
that he should tread was ordained by the iron force of circumstance. He
did whatever work he could find to do, and his occupations were various.
He trained members of an amateur society, in Brooklyn, called “The
Amaranth.” He revised a play called “Caught in a Corner” (it had
previously been tinkered by Clay M. Greene, and it was produced in New
York, Belasco’s arrangement, November 1, 1887, at the Fourteenth Street
Theatre) for Maurice Bertram Curtis, an actor now dimly remembered for
his performance in “Sam’l of Posen,” with whom he had, in 1878, been
affiliated as a member of the “Frayne Troupe,” travelling in California.
More particularly he became associated with Steele Mackaye, in the
Lyceum. That theatre was situated in Fourth Avenue, next to the old
Academy of Design, which stood on the northwest corner of Twenty-third
Street and Fourth Avenue. It was built, on ground leased from William Y.
Mortimer, by Philip G. Hubert, Charles W. Clinton, and Michael Brennan,
and it was opened by Mackaye on April 6, 1885, with a play called
“Dakolar,” which he had “conveyed” from “Le Maître de Forges,” by
Georges Ohnet. The chief parts were played by Robert B. Mantell, John
Mason, Viola Allen, and Sadie Martinot. Belasco’s position at the Lyceum
was that of assistant stage manager and general helper for Mackaye,
whose signal ability he appreciated and admired. He was engaged at a
salary of $150 a week,--which, however, he never received,--was
installed in a private office, and, for a short time, was happy because
deluded as to what he was about to accomplish. In his “Story,” referring
to the play of “Dakolar,” he relates that, prior to its production,
Mackaye read it, at his home, to a group of critical persons, of whom I
was one, in order to obtain their opinions of it. As to one point his
memory is at fault: I was not present. Mackaye (who was a friend of
mine) did read “Dakolar” to me, but that reading occurred privately, in
his office. We sat, I remember, at a large table, he at an end of it and
I at the right-hand side. He was a highly excitable person, and as his
reading progressed he became wildly enthusiastic, hitching his chair
nearer and nearer to me, with much extravagant gesticulation, so that I
was impelled to hitch my chair further and further away from him, till
the two of us actually made an almost complete circuit of the table
before the reading was finished! It was a tiresome experience. At the
critical symposium which Belasco recalls various opinions were expressed
by Mackaye’s auditors, that of Belasco being withheld until Mackaye
insisted on its expression, when it was made known as strongly adverse
to the play. Thereafter a coolness ensued between the manager and his
assistant. Other causes of friction occurred, and presently Mackaye
remarked to him, “There is room for only _one_ genius in this theatre,
and _one_ of us ought to resign.” This intimation caused Belasco to
retire, and so ended that episode.
Mackaye, who, in his youth, had studied in Paris, under the direction of
François Delsarte (1811-1871),--an eccentric person, of whom and his
peculiar character, ways, and notions the reader can pleasantly obtain
an instructive glimpse from that delightful book, by Mme.
Hagermann-Lindencrone, “In the Courts of Memory,”--had, from the time of
his advent in New York theatrical life (1872), sedulously striven to
promote the tuition of histrionic aspirants according to the tenets of
that instructor; and in opening the Lyceum Theatre he started, in
connection with it, a School of Acting. In this Franklin Sargent at
first co-labored with him, but after a short time withdrew, to carry on
a school of his own. When Belasco left Mackaye and the Lyceum he joined
Sargent, and as his extraordinary talent for stage direction had made
him popular with Mackaye’s pupils, the larger part of them followed him
to Sargent’s school,--to the lively disgust of Mackaye.
“VALERIE” AT WALLACK’S.
An important incident of this fluctuant period was Belasco’s employment
by Lester Wallack (1820-1888), with whom he had become so pleasantly
acquainted in 1882, at the time of the New York production of his “La
Belle Russe.” Wallack, one of the best actors who have adorned our Stage
and for about thirty years the leading theatrical manager in America,
was then drawing toward the close of his career and the end of his life.
His strength was failing, his audience dropping away. He thought he
might perhaps reanimate public interest in his theatre,--where he still
maintained a fine company,--if he should appear in a new character. “I
think I have one more ’study’ in me,” he told Belasco, “and I should
like you to try to make for me a play with good parts for Mr. Bellew and
Miss Robe [Kyrle Bellew, Annie Robe, John Gilbert, Mme. Ponisi, Sophie
Eyre, and Henry Edwards were among the members of his
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Courtesy of Percy Mackaye, Esq.
JAMES STEELE MACKAYE
About 1886]
company at the time], and with a character for me similar to _Henry
Beauclerc_, in ’Diplomacy.’ Another ’Diplomacy’ would carry us over.”
Belasco had no original play in mind at that time and Wallack had no
definite suggestion to make, beyond his wish for something similar to
“Diplomacy,”--which he had produced, for the first time in America and
with great success, at Wallack’s Theatre (the Thirteenth Street house),
April 1, 1878. The result of several long conferences between manager
and playwright was, accordingly, that a new version of Sardou’s
“Fernande” (which had been first produced in America, at the Dalys’
Fifth Avenue Theatre, June 7, 1870, with Daniel H. Harkins, George
Clarke, and Agnes Ethel in the chief parts) would be the most auspicious
venture. On this play, accordingly, Belasco began to work. “I had no
home in those days,” he told me, “except a small hall bedroom at No. 43
West Twenty-fourth Street, and no proper place in which to write. I used
to do much of my work in the public writing-room of the old Fifth Avenue
Hotel [which stood at the northwest corner of Twenty-third Street and
Broadway], but I wanted to be near Wallack, because frequent
consultations were necessary, in order that I might meet his
requirements and fit his company, and so I asked him if he couldn’t
give me some place in his theatre where I might work conveniently. He
very courteously and greatly to my delight opened his own library to me,
in his house ’round the corner [Wallack dwelt in a house on the north
side of West Thirtieth Street, No. 13, adjoining his theatre], and there
I made my version of ’Fernande’ and, practically, lived till it was
done.”
That version, called “Valerie,” was completed within four weeks, and it
was produced at Wallack’s Theatre on February 15, 1886. Wallack, instead
of buying the refashioned play outright from Belasco, as was the usual
custom of the time, agreed to pay him the handsome royalty of $250 a
week, as long as it held his stage,--the adapter, moreover, being
privileged to present it outside of New York. “Valerie,” while
serviceable in a theatrical way, is not a thoroughly good play, and it
is distinctly inferior to the earlier version, by Hart Jackson,--as,
indeed, could scarcely be otherwise, since Belasco had worked under the
disadvantage of being required to make a new play on the basis of an old
one, then still current, in which the best possible use of the material
implicated had already been made. In the building of “Valerie,” which is
comprised in three acts, reliance was placed in whatever of freshness
could be imparted to the method of treatment,--and that was not much.
The scene of the action was shifted from France to England. The
foreground of the life of _Fernande_, appearing under the name of
_Valerie_, was omitted. The names of the other characters were also
changed. The First Act deals largely with preparation and is devoted
mainly to a somewhat preposterous scene in which the evil agent of the
drama, _Helena_, allures her lover, _Sir Everard Challoner_, by a false
confession that she is tired of him, to make a true confession not only
that he is tired of her but that he loves another woman. _Challoner_ is
represented as of a noble English family and of a singularly ingenuous
mind. He states that the woman whom he loves is a young stranger whom he
has casually encountered, leaning against a post, in the street, in a
condition of faintness, and the deceptive _Helena_ thereupon proffers
her services to discover the unknown object of his sudden affection. She
has rescued a vagrant female from the streets, and it turns out that
this waif is the interesting stranger for whom they are to seek. In the
Second Act the malignant _Helena_ exults in the marriage of her former
lover to a woman whom she believes to be a demirep. That is to
consummate her revenge for having been discarded by _Challoner_, but
when she is about to overwhelm him with the declaration that he has
wedded an outcast, _Walter_, the good genius of the story, forcibly
compels her sudden retirement behind a velvet curtain. This is the
“strong situation” of the drama. In the Third Act this evil woman’s
scheme of vengeance, which she endeavors to push to a completion, is
finally discomfited by the vindication of the girl, _Valerie_, and a
happy climax crowns an incredible fiction.
The play is long and portions of it are tedious. The dialogue is
generally commonplace. Two strikingly original lines, however, attracted
my attention: “Love at first sight, you know,” and “this is the happiest
day of my life!” The postulate illustrated is kindred with that of
Congreve’s well-known (and almost invariably misquoted) couplet,
“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
That theme may, perhaps, be interesting. It seemed to interest auditors
at Wallack’s, but the manifestations of approval were probably due to
the manner in which the play was acted rather than to its intrinsic
appeal. Annie Robe appeared as _Valerie_. There was in the personality
of that actress a certain muscular vigor incompatible with the ideal of
a sweet, fragile girl, intended in the original scheme of Sardou and
suggested in its paraphrase, but Miss Robe’s performance evinced a fine,
woman-like intuition and it was suffused with touching sincerity.
Wallack, as _Walter_, had to personate a character which, for him, was
of trifling moment,--the poised, self-possessed man of the world, at
home amid difficulties and always master of the situation. The kindness
of his nature shone through his embodiment and the grace of his action
made it delightful. In Wallack’s acting there was that delicate
suggestion of great knowledge of human nature and of the world which can
be expressed only by those who have had ample experience of life, and
also there was the denotement of a nature which had been sweetened, not
embittered, by the trials through which it had passed. Kyrle Bellew
acted with simple dignity in situations which sometimes were of such an
irrational character as might well perplex or baffle the art of the most
accomplished comedian. His performance was much and justly admired.
Sophie Eyre, who assumed the affronted female, pursued her baleful
purpose with surpassing energy, much breadth of treatment, and
frequently fine theatrical effect: but her performance excelled in force
rather than in refinement.
This is the complete cast of the play as acted at Wallack’s Theatre:
_Sir Everard Challoner_ Kyrle Bellew.
_Mons. Xavier_ Henry Edwards.
_Hon. George Alfred Bettly_ Ivan Shirley.
_Dr. Rushton_ Daniel Leeson.
_Roberts_ John Germon.
_Jameson_ S. Du Bois.
_Helena Malcom_ Sophie Eyre.
_Valerie de Brian_ Annie Robe.
_Lady Bettly_ Mme. Ponisi.
_Julia Trevillian_ Helen Russell.
_Agnes_ Kate Bartlett.
_Walter Trevillian_ Lester Wallack.
Such merit as “Valerie” contains was derived from the French original.
It is a piece of journeyman work, undertaken as such, and as such well
enough done. Wallack seems to have been conscious of its defects: in a
letter of his to Belasco, which the latter has carefully preserved, he
says:
(_Lester Wallack to David Belasco._)
“13, West Thirtieth Street,
“[New York] December 31, [1885.]
“Dear Mr. Belasco:--
“We must, have another ’go’ at the last act.
“The dialogues are infinitely too long, and we have missed the
opportunity for a strong scene for Mr. Bellew and Miss Robe.
“I rehearsed the two first acts yesterday.
“Yours always,
“LESTER WALLACK.”
[Illustration:
From an old photograph.
The Albert Davis Collection.
ANNIE ROBE
Photograph by Sarony.
Belasco’s Collection.
KYRLE BELLEW
About 1886, when they acted in Belasco’s “Valerie”]
Handsome scenes were provided for the play at Wallack’s and it received
some measure of public support, holding the stage till March 14.
Wallack’s first appearance in it was his first appearance in the season
of 1885-’86, and _Walter_ was the last new part that he ever acted.
Belasco had great respect for Wallack, recognizing and appreciating his
wonderful powers as an actor and his extraordinary achievements as a
manager. Wallack, while Belasco was writing “Valerie,” offered him
employment, as stage manager, to produce it, but Belasco wisely
declined. “I knew,” he said, “that Wallack would not be able to sit by
and let me direct his company--much less himself--and so I thanked him
but declined, telling him, ’Mr. Wallack, I should be afraid of Mr.
Bellew and Miss Robe, and of _you_!’ When he asked me to ’come in from
time to time and watch the rehearsals,’ of course I agreed, and I did go
in and made a few suggestions to him. I could have remained at
Wallack’s, in charge of the stage, but I saw my doing so would lead to
nothing, so I refused an offer he made me and kept myself free. I
treasure the memory of Wallack and my association with him. He was one
of the big figures of our Stage, very pathetic, to me, in his last
efforts to stem the tide running against him, and he was the most
courteous gentleman I ever met in the Theatre.”
MORE ERRORS CORRECTED.
Belasco’s carelessness of statement is again illustrated in a remark
made in his “Story” regarding contemporary conditions when Wallack’s
career was ending: “New men,” he writes, “were on the horizon, public
taste was changing, and lighter forms of entertainment were coming into
vogue. Even Daly was meeting reverses and the Madison Square was going
downhill.” It is regrettable that such an influential manager should
fall into such errors and unintentionally contribute to the generally
prevailing ignorance of theatrical history. I am again prompted to quote
the old sage, Dr. Johnson, who remarks that “To be ignorant is painful,
but it is dangerous to quiet our uneasiness by the delusive opiate of
hasty persuasion.” At the time of which Belasco speaks (1886-’87) Daly
was, in fact, on the crest of the wave of success, with “A Night Off,”
“Nancy & Co.,” and revivals of the Old Comedies. In May, 1886, he took
his company on a notably successful tour which, after nine weeks in
London, embraced Paris, Hamburg, Berlin, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Liverpool,
and Dublin, and soon after his return to America he produced, in New
[Illustration:
Photograph by Falk. Courtesy of Arthur Wallack, Esq.
LESTER WALLACK
Taken at about the time he produced Belasco’s “Valerie,”--1886
(The last picture ever made of Wallack)]
York, for the first time in our country, “The Taming of the Shrew,” in
which Ada Rehan gave her matchless personation of _Katharine_ and which
was the most successful of all his ventures in the second half of his
great career, ending in 1899. The Madison Square, so far from “going
downhill,” was just entering on a period of notable prosperity and
influence, with Jones’s “Saints and Sinners,” Mansfield’s presentment of
“Prince Karl,” which ran from May 3 to August 14, 1886; “Jim the
Penman,” “Heart of Hearts,” etc. Palmer remained in management of the
Madison Square till September, 1891.
AN EXTRAORDINARY COMPANY AND A SUMMER SEASON IN SAN FRANCISCO.
Soon after “Valerie” was withdrawn at Wallack’s,--that is, March-April,
1886,--Belasco received and accepted an invitation to return to the city
of his birth, and the scene of much of his vicissitudinous early career,
as stage manager of what was fairly denominated “a stock company of
stars” and was, without question, one of the strongest theatrical
companies ever assembled in America. That company was organized by Al.
Hayman to fill a summer season at the Baldwin Theatre (of which he had
obtained control in 1883) and it comprised the following players:
Robert B. Mantell.
Joseph Haworth.
William J. Ferguson.
Charles Vandenhoff.
Rowland Buckstone.
Henry Miller.
Owen Fawcett.
W. H. Crompton.
Maurice Barrymore.
L. J. Henderson.
Alfred Fisher.
Errol Dunbar.
George H. Cohill.
Sophie Eyre.
Florence Gerard.
Mary Shaw.
Louise Dillon.
Kate Denin.
Kitty Wilson.
Ada Dyer.
Mrs. Alfred Fisher.
Agnes Thomas.
Mrs. C. R. Saunders.
Hayman’s company began its engagement under Belasco’s direction, at the
Baldwin, May 31, in a dramatized synopsis of Ouida’s novel of “Moths,”
which was cast thus:
_Lord Jura_ Joseph Haworth.
_Prince Zouroff_ Charles Vandenhoff.
_Raphael de Correze_ Henry Miller.
_Duke of Mull and Cantyre_ Rowland Buckstone.
_Joan_ E. J. Holden.
_Fuchsia Leach_ Louise Dillon.
_Duchess de Sonnah_ Agnes Thomas.
_Lady Dolly Vanderdecken_ Kate Denin.
_Princess Nadine Helegrine_ Sydney Cowell.
_Vera Herbert_ Sophie Eyre.
On June 7 Belasco’s “Valerie” was presented, the parts being distributed
as follows:
_Sir Everard Challoner_ Joseph Haworth.
_Walter Trevillian_ W. J. Ferguson.
_Mons. Xavier_ Charles Vandenhoff.
_Hon. George Alfred Bettly_ Rowland Buckstone.
_Dr. Rushton_ W. H. Crompton.
_Roberts_ E. J. Holden.
_Helena Malcom_ Sophie Eyre.
_Valerie de Brian_ Louise Dillon.
_Lady Bettly_ Kate Denin.
_Julia Trevillian_ Sydney Cowell.
_Agnes_ Trella Foltz.
“Valerie” was received with favor and played for one week. It was
succeeded, June 14, by a revival of “The Marble Heart,”--in which
Mantell played _Phidias_ and _Raphael_, Ferguson _Volage_, and Miss Eyre
_Marco_. “Anselma” was acted on the 21st; “The Lady of Lyons” on the
24th, and “Alone in London” on the 28th. A particularly rich setting was
provided for the last named presentment, which was warmly commended for
the perfection of Belasco’s stage management, the excellence of the
acting and “beautiful and bewitching scenery and stage effects.” Mme.
Modjeska appeared on July 12, supported by members of the Hayman
company, in Maurice Barrymore’s nasty play of “Nadjezda”: this, however,
appears to have been brought forth under the stage management of its
author and without any assistance from Belasco. On July 18 the latter
took a benefit at the Baldwin, at which the theatre was densely crowded
by a wildly enthusiastic audience. The occasion was made a general
testimonial of the cordial admiration and high personal esteem in which
Belasco had come to be held in his native city, by the public as well as
by fellow-members of his profession. It was directed by a committee of
which Charles Bozenta (Modjeska’s husband and manager) was the President
and Clay M. Greene and Maurice Barrymore the Vice-Presidents, many
distinguished men and women of the Theatre and of public life in
California being members. The programme included the names of more than
sixty-five players and the principal features of it were as follows:
“Clothilde,” One Act of, by Jeffreys-Lewis and Company.
M. B. Curtis Recitations.
McKee Rankin Recitations.
“The Private Secretary,” One act of, with John N. Long
as the _Rev. Spaulding_, and the original cast.
Helene Dingeon Songs.
Maurice Barrymore Recitations.
“Carrie” Swan “Specialties.”
Edwin Foy Imitations.
“Called Back,” One Act of,
_Macari_ Joseph R. Grismer.
_Gilbert Vaughan_ Maurice Barrymore.
_Pauline_ Phœbe Davies.
_Mary_ Louise Dillon.
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
ALBERT M. PALMER]
E. J. Buckley “‘Ostler Joe.”
“Shadows of a Great City,” Last Act of, by the original cast.
On July 26 Belasco left San Francisco for New York,--where immediately
after his arrival he did some unacknowledged tinkering and readjusting
of a play by Archibald Clavering Gunter, called “A Wall Street Bandit,”
which was produced, September 20, at the Standard Theatre, under the
management of Charles Frohman. Belasco’s next employment was at the
Lyceum Theatre.
AFFAIRS OF THE LYCEUM.
Wallack’s company did not last much more than a year after the time when
Belasco was offered an opportunity to join it as stage manager: it was
disbanded on May 30, 1887, after giving a final performance, at Daly’s
Theatre, in “The Romance of a Poor Young Man.” Thus Belasco’s decision
not to ally himself in any permanent capacity with that organization
proved fortunate for him. Meantime Mackaye’s administration of the
Lyceum Theatre was not successful. “Dakolar” ran there from April 6 to
May 23 (1885), when the house was closed. On September 15, following, a
re-opening was effected, with a new version, by Mackaye, of Victorien
Sardou’s “Andrea,” presented under the name of “In Spite of All,”--the
chief parts of it being acted by Minnie Maddern (now Mrs. Fiske), Eben
Plympton, Richard Mansfield, and Selina Dolaro. That play held the stage
till November 7, when Mackaye relinquished his lease of the Lyceum and
control of that theatre was obtained by Daniel Frohman. “In Spite of
All” was taken to Boston by Charles Frohman, Belasco going with it as
stage-manager. After the presentment of it in Boston Belasco returned to
New York, and soon entered into the engagement with Wallack which has
been described. Having finished “Valerie,” he renewed his association
with Sargent, in the School of Acting, thus coming into indirect
connection with the Lyceum Theatre. On November 10, 1885, that house had
been opened under the direction of Helen Dauvray (“Little Nell, the
California Diamond”), Daniel Frohman being the lessee, in a play written
specially for her by Bronson Howard, called “One of Our Girls,” in which
she made a success as _Kate Shipley_. That play was acted for 200
nights, the run closing on May 22, 1886, when Miss Dauvray retired from
the direction of the Lyceum. Daniel Frohman then announced himself as
the manager of that theatre, opening it, on May 24, with Frank Mayo, in
the play of “Nordeck,” which ran for two weeks, when the season ended.
It was reopened on September 18, following, with Henry C. De Mille’s
play of “The Main Line; or, Rawson’s Y.” Belasco, through his indirect
connection with the Lyceum, came into employment in rehearsal of various
plays for the English actress May Fortesque (Finney), who, on October
18, 1886, began a brief engagement at the Lyceum, appearing in W. S.
Gilbert’s “Faust,” acting _Gretchen_, and later, November 8, played
_Frou-Frou_, and, November 29, _Iolanthe_, in “King Rene’s Daughter,”
and _Jenny Northcott_, in “Sweethearts.” Miss Fortesque was not
successful in America and on March 23, 1887, she sailed for England.
While Belasco was rehearsing her company Daniel Frohman engaged him at
the Lyceum, at a salary of $35 a week, as stage manager, adviser, and
general assistant, and that position he held till early in the year
1890. Meanwhile Belasco, besides his activities as a teacher in the
Lyceum School of Acting (the pupils of that school, under his direction,
gave a creditable performance of a translation of Molière’s “Les
Précieuses Ridicules,” March 23, 1887, at the Lyceum), was at work on
the revision of a play by John Maddison Morton (1811-1891) and Robert
Reece, called “Trade,” which was written for Edward A. Sothern and had
been inherited by his son, Edward Hugh Sothern, whose contract with Miss
Dauvray had been assumed by Daniel Frohman, and who was soon to figure
at the Lyceum as leading man and, practically, as star. The play of
“Trade,” in its original form, was defective. The elder Sothern, an
intimate friend of mine, consulted me about it, I remember, and at his
request, and as a friendly act, I suggested some changes and wrote into
it one scene. My work, however, was not important. Belasco practically
rewrote the play, and, under the name of “The Highest Bidder,” his
version of it was produced at the Lyceum, May 3, 1887, with E. H.
Sothern as _Jack Hammerton_, the leading part.
“THE HIGHEST BIDDER.”
“The Highest Bidder” is one of the many plays which are correctly
designated as “tailor-made.” Such things do not spring from an original
dramatic impulse. Morton and Reece aimed to fit the elder Sothern with a
part that would suit him, and they did not accomplish the purpose, nor
did that accomplished comedian, who did much work on their play.
Belasco, revising it for the younger Sothern, considerably improved it,
telling the story more fluently and making the central character more
piquant and flexible. _Jack Hammerton_ is an amiable young man, of
abundant wealth, by profession an auctioneer, by nature diffident in
general
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
EDWARD H. SOTHERN
About 1888]
society, impulsive in temperament and prone to entangle himself in
foolish embarrassments, but capable of calm, decisive action in
situations of danger. An old friend of his, resident in the country, has
become involved in financial difficulties and a valuable estate is to be
sold to relieve him. The young auctioneer is employed to conduct the
sale, and he finds that his old friend has a charming young daughter,
supposed to be an heiress, who is being courted by a specious baronet
who is a dishonest gambler and a forger. In trying to unmask this rascal
the amiable auctioneer involves himself in a distressing tangle of
misapprehension, but eventually he discomfits the wily schemer (who
incidentally makes an abortive attempt to murder him), frees himself
from suspicion, and proves at once the rectitude of his intentions and
the ardor of his devotion to the lady whom he loves and whom he wishes
to rescue from the toils of a villain. At the climax of the auction
scene he “knocks down” his friend’s estate to himself, in the capacity
of “the highest bidder,” and then lays it, with his heart, at the feet
of the object of his adoration,--who, after an excess of hesitancy,
accepts him and his property.
“The Highest Bidder” was set in handsome scenery and the parts in it
were judiciously cast:
_Lawrence Thornhill_ J. W. Piggott.
_Bonham Cheviot_ William J. LeMoyne.
_Jack Hammerton_ Edward H. Sothern.
_Muffin Struggles_ Rowland Buckstone.
_Evelyn Graine_ Herbert Archer.
_Joseph_ Walter Clark Bellows.
_Parkyn_ William A. Faversham.
_Rose Thornhill_ Belle Archer.
_Mrs. Honiton Lacy_ Alice Crowther.
_Louise Lacy_ Vida Croly.
LeMoyne and Miss Archer, on this occasion, made their first appearance
at the Lyceum. The play was well acted, Sothern animating the
serio-comic part of _Hammerton_ with earnest feeling and sustained and
winning vivacity. The success had not been expected. Dismal
forebodements had preceded its production. “We had a small private
audience at a dress rehearsal,” said Belasco, “and it was ghastly;
everybody was unresponsive and chilly, they pretty well took the starch
out of all the actors, and made us all nervous, despondent, and
miserable. We had another ’go’ at the piece, with nobody in front, and
it seemed a little better; but we were all stale on it; we couldn’t tell
what would happen. What a difference when we had a friendly audience,
fresh to the piece and willing to be pleased!” “The Highest Bidder” held
the stage from May 3 to July 16, when the Lyceum was closed for the
season, but it was revived on August 29, and it ran till September 17.
Then, on September 20, under Belasco’s stage direction, Cecil Raleigh’s
neat farce of “The Great Pink Pearl” was brought out, together with the
drama in one act called “Editha’s Burglar.” The latter is an adaptation
of a story by Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, and its production is
specially notable as being that of the first play by the brilliant and
representative American dramatist Augustus Thomas, and because of the
instant success achieved in its central character by Elsie
Leslie,--certainly the most remarkable child actor of the last sixty
years and one of the loveliest and most enchanting children ever seen
anywhere. To her captivating personality, and to her instinctive
histrionic talent, judiciously fostered and elicited by Belasco, was due
the success of the “double bill”: it held the Lyceum stage until October
30, and thereafter was acted in many other cities. In New York the
principal adult part, that of the _Burglar_, was assumed by E. H.
Sothern: “on the road” it was played by William Gillette.
“PAWN TICKET 210.”
Another venture, made in 1887, that was important to Belasco, was the
production, by his friend of early days, the fay-like little Lotta, of a
play which he wrote for her in collaboration with Clay M. Greene,
entitled “Pawn Ticket 210.” In the summer of that year, after those
authors had submitted their play to her, Lotta expressed herself as
favorably impressed by it but as being doubtful as to whether the public
would care for her in its central character, which contains some touches
of serious feeling. “I play and dance and sing,” she said, “and that
seems to be about all my audience expects of me.” Her interest in the
piece, however, finally overcame her hesitation; she agreed to buy it
outright, for $5,000, and produce it, provided that Belasco would direct
the rehearsals. To that stipulation he readily consented; a first
payment of $2,500 was made, and the play was prepared for public
representation on the stage of the Lyceum, immediately prior to the
rehearsals there of “The Great Pink Pearl” and “Editha’s Burglar”: it
was first acted at McVicker’s Theatre, Chicago, September 12, 1887.
“Pawn Ticket 210” is a melodrama, in four acts, based in part on an idea
in the novel of “Court Royal,” by Baring-Gould, and containing two
characters derived therefrom. The story is extravagant to the point of
absurdity. The mother of an infant girl, being in desperate need of
money, leaves her babe with a Jewish pawnbroker, as security for a loan
of $30, and then disappears. The child, _Mag_, attains to young
womanhood and is about to be, practically, forced into marriage with the
old pawnbroker, _Uncle Harris_, who holds her as “collateral,” when her
mother returns and, with the assistance of a youth named _Saxe_, redeems
the girl and provides for her happiness. Spectators of this amazing
medley might well have been puzzled to divine its purpose, since they
were at one moment required to contemplate scenes of violence and
bloodshed and the next were regaled with the capers of
burlesque,--Lotta, abandoning all endeavor at serious portrayal of
character, skipping over barrels, frisking upon tables, kicking off her
slippers, grimacing, dancing, and singing as only Lotta could.
That play was greeted by the writers for the Chicago newspapers with
extreme and derisive censure. Belasco and Greene, reading the adverse
reviews, were much disheartened and expected that Lotta would withdraw
their play and revive one of her early and successful vehicles. “I had
been in Chicago, for the dress rehearsal,” writes Belasco, in a
memorandum, “but my duties as stage manager at the Lyceum required me to
return to New York before the first performance. The rehearsals hadn’t
been satisfactory to me. And when, on top of the scathing notices, I
received a wire from Lotta [after “The Pearl” and “Editha’s Burglar”
had been produced] asking us to come out to Chicago again, I felt sure
it meant that our play was to be dropped.” When, however, in company
with Greene, he called on the actress, his dismal forebodings were
happily dispersed. “Don’t pay any attention to the criticisms,”
admonished the sensible little Lotta; “I have just had word from my
manager saying there is a line that extends around the block, trying to
get to the box office. The house has been packed to the roof, at every
performance. None of my plays has ever received good notices--but the
public comes. We have a great big success in this piece!” Lotta’s
mother, who was present, by way of confirming this auspicious view,
said, “We’ll show you what _we_ think of it,” and forthwith handed to
the delighted authors a check for the second payment of
$2,500,--although, writes Belasco, “it was a month ahead of the
stipulated time.” “Pawn Ticket 210” was the chief reliance of Lotta
during the season of 1887-’88, and thereafter it was utilized by several
of the various performers who sought to emulate her,--conspicuous among
them Amy Lee. This is the cast of the original production at McVicker’s:
_Mag_ Lotta.
_Uncle Harris_ John Howson.
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
LOTTA (CHARLOTTE CRABTREE)
About the time of “Pawn Ticket No. 210”]
_John Sternhold_ Charles L. Harris.
_Montague Flash_ G. C. Boniface.
_Charles Saxe_ Cyril Scott.
_Osiah Gregg_ J. W. Hague.
_Postman_ F. Waldo Parker.
_Ruth_ Augusta Raymond.
_Alice Sternhold_ Lilian Richardson.
_Aunt Dorothy_ Ernestine Floyd.
“BARON RUDOLPH” AND GEORGE S. KNIGHT.
The continuous, energetic, productive industry of Belasco is further
signified by the fact that during the interval between “The Highest
Bidder” and “The Wife” (May to November, 1887) he found time to do an
important piece of work in association with Bronson Howard. That author
had, several years earlier, written a play for Mr. and Mrs. William J.
Florence, called “Only a Tramp.” Mrs. Florence was not satisfied with
the part, _Nellie Dashwood_, designed for her, and the Florences,
accordingly, rejected the play. In 1886 it was bought from Howard by
George S. Knight (George Washington Sloan,--1850-1892), who chanced to
meet Howard in London and to whom it was offered.
The play of “Baron Rudolph” (or “Rudolph,” as, finally, it was
denominated) is not a distinctive or important one, but it contains,
chiefly as the result of Belasco’s revision (it was earlier acted in
New York, as Howard left it, so this statement rests on direct
comparison), effective elements of comedy and some amusing incidents and
fluent dialogue. Knight was a competent comedian,--nothing more: he
lacked personal magnetism, delicacy, and the rare and precious faculty
of taste.
The story of the play is trite and it is artificial; it belongs to the
category typified by “Struck Oil,” in which James C. Williamson and his
wife, “Maggie” Moore, were widely successful, many years ago, gaining a
fortune with it. It depicts the vicissitudes and sufferings of a kind
and loving, though weak and imprudent man, _Rudolph_, and of his wife
and child. _Rudolph_, who has been prosperous, is pitifully poor, and
his wife and their child are on the verge of starvation. The husband
returns, slightly intoxicated, to their squalid abode, and the wife,
stung to bitter resentment, leaves him, taking their child, and intent
to earn a living by her own labor. In this purpose she succeeds, and
after an interval of about two years she obtains a divorce from
_Rudolph_,--who, meantime, has become a gin-sodden “tramp,” abject and
wretched,--and she weds a swindling scoundrel, the secret agent of
_Rudolph’s_ ruin. That specious villain is detected, apprehended, and
exposed as a forger, in the moment of the wretched _Rudolph’s_ accession
to a fortune and a baronetcy, in Germany, and then a scene of
recognition and reconciliation ensues,--containing possibilities of
pathetic effect,--between the wretched father, “only a tramp,” and his
daughter. This story is jumbled with the wooing of a sprightly widow,
named _Nellie Dashwood_, a sort of _Mrs. General Gilflory_ (in “The
Mighty Dollar”); an attempted burglary; a secondary story about two very
young lovers, and a tedious tangle of literal detail and “outward
flourishes.”
Persons who care to observe how disruption wrought by poverty,
suffering, and weakness, in the home of an affectionate husband, wife
and child, can be treated with poignant dramatic effect should study the
old play of “Belphegor; or, The Mountebank,”--in which, as _Belphegor_,
Charles Dillon gave one of the most beautiful and touching performances
it has ever been my fortune to see. The triumphant use of such material
can also be studied in the late Charles Klein’s “The Music Master,” as
augmented, rectified, and produced by Belasco, with David Warfield in
its central part, _Herr von Barwig_. When revived, as altered and
amended by Belasco, “Rudolph” was handsomely set on the stage, but
Knight’s method of dressing and acting the principal part ruined any
chance of success which it might have had.
Knight became infatuated with the part of the _Tramp_, and he produced
“Rudolph,” for the first time, in the Fall of 1886, at the Academy of
Music, Cleveland. In 1887 Howard rewrote the play--receiving, as I
understood, $3,000 for doing so,--and it was then produced at Hull,
England, with Knight and his wife as stars, supported by members of
Wilson Barrett’s company, from the Princess’ Theatre, London. In its
revised form it was called “Baron Rudolph.” Knight was still
dissatisfied with the structure of it, and, returning to America,
desired that Howard should again revise it, but this Howard was unable
to do, being preoccupied with labor on “The Henrietta,” for Robson and
Crane (that play was produced for the first time at the Union Square
Theatre, September 26, 1887), but, at his request, Belasco undertook a
second revision. “My object,” he said, “was to do the work as nearly as
possible in Howard’s way, and I must have succeeded pretty well, because
when I took the script to him he said: ’You’ve caught my style,
exactly!’ And he would not allow the piece to be produced as ’By Bronson
Howard’; he insisted that I should have public credit as a co-author.”
In its final form it bore Howard’s second title, “Baron Rudolph,” and,
under the direction of Charles Frohman, representing Knight, and the
stage management of Belasco, it was produced at the Fourteenth Street
Theatre, New York, on October 24, 1887. “There was the chance for an
immense popular success and a fortune in the piece,” Belasco said to me,
“but Knight threw it all away. He insisted on making-up’ _Rudolph_, the
tramp, in such a literal, dirty, repulsive manner that, in the
recognition scene where the girl learns he is her father and has to
embrace and kiss him, the audience, instead of being sympathetic, was
disgusted. We argued and entreated with Knight: I told him, over and
over and over, what would happen. But he couldn’t, or he wouldn’t, see
it--and it happened!” The play failed, utterly; it was kept on the stage
for four weeks and then withdrawn. Knight, first and last, lost a modest
fortune on that play, and its ultimate failure broke him down. He and
his wife went on a tour, after ending their engagement at the Fourteenth
Street Theatre, in an early success of theirs, a farce called “Over the
Garden Wall,” but Knight’s brain was affected; within a few months he
suffered a shock of paralysis, and, on July 14, 1892, after much
suffering, he died, in Philadelphia. During his illness he was
maintained and cared for, with exemplary devotion, by his wife.
This was the cast of “Baron Rudolph,” at the Fourteenth Street Theatre:
_Rudolph_ George S. Knight.
_Whetworth_ Frank Carlyle.
_Rhoda_ Carrie Turner.
_Owen_ Lin Hurst.
_Sheriff_ Frank Colfax.
_Ernestine_ Jane Stuart.
_General Metcalf_ Charles Bowser.
_Judge Merrybone_ M. A. Kennedy.
_Geoffrey Brown_ Henry Woodruff.
_Allen_ George D. Fawcett.
_Nellie Dashwood_ Mrs. George S. Knight.
“THE WIFE.”
When, in the preceding May, “The Highest Bidder” had been successfully
launched, Daniel Frohman, intending the establishment of a permanent
stock company at the Lyceum Theatre, began, with Belasco, consideration
of plays that might be suitable for production, in the next season, and
of actors whom it might prove expedient and feasible to engage for the
projected company. No play that seemed to them suitable was found, and
Mr. Frohman presently suggested that Belasco should write one. Belasco,
somewhat unwillingly,--because of the responsibility involved,--agreed
to do so; but while in conference with Mr. Frohman Henry De Mille
chanced to enter the office where they were, and the manager, conscious
of Belasco’s hesitancy, suggested that he should undertake the new play
in collaboration with De Mille. To this Belasco eagerly agreed, and that
was the beginning of a long and agreeable association. The co-workers
soon repaired to De Mille’s summer home, at Echo Lake, and began work on
a play which at first they called “The Marriage Tie,” but which
eventually was named “The Wife,”--not a felicitous choice of title,
because it had been several times previously used, and, in particular,
has long been identified with the excellent comedy of that name by James
Sheridan Knowles (1784-1862), first produced in 1833, at Covent Garden,
London, and throughout many years by various stars or stock companies in
our Theatre. Belasco has written the following account of the manner in
which their play of “The Wife” was constructed by De Mille and himself:
“A COMMON-SENSE HUSBAND.”
“At last, after many plots were cast aside, I hit upon an idea. In
my varied experience as dramatist and stage manager I had produced
many so-called society plays in which the wife was either guilty of
unfaithfulness or had committed an indiscretion. In the ’big’ scene
it was the conventional thing for the husband to enter the room
at midnight, and say to the woman: ’Of course, after all that has
happened, I must get a divorce.’ Then he threw legal documents on
the desk, and said: ’Here are the deeds to the house. All necessary
provisions have been made for you and the child. But for the sake
of society, etc., etc., we will continue to dwell under the same
roof for a while.’
“‘Let us have a common-sense husband,’ I proposed to De Mille.
’After the husband’s discovery, let him treat his wife in a
perfectly sane, human way. Let him say: “You need me. Turn to
me, for your protection!”’ I had treated a similar situation in
a play which ran in opposition to Bronson Howard’s ’The Banker’s
Daughter’ at Baldwin’s Theatre in San Francisco. [The play was “The
Millionaire’s Daughter.”]
“Mr. De Mille agreed with me that we should use the idea of this
husband as the basis of our Lyceum drama. I knew my ground, for I
had gained my knowledge through experience. And, as we were to see,
that incident saved ’The Wife’ in its hour of need. It has kept
the play alive all these years and made it one of our most popular
stock pieces. Before De Mille and I began the play we had virtually
written our Third Act, jotting down notes and flashes of dialogue.
Then we went to Mr. Frohman with our idea, and in that conference
the Lyceum Theatre Company was born. In fact, it came into being
before the play, and De Mille and I found ourselves obliged to
create characters to fit the personalities of the players Mr.
Frohman had engaged. We could not say: ’Here is our heroine. Find
an actress to suit her’--for Georgia Cayvan was to be the leading
lady, whatever the play might be, and it was for us to see that she
had a womanly woman’s part....
“In the early part of May we began our race against time; night
and day found us turning out experimental pages of dialogue. Every
week we came to the city for a few hours, to see how the scenes of
the play were progressing--for that was another condition imposed
upon us--to decide upon the location of our acts before they were
written. In those days audiences would not have been content with
repetitions of scenes such as we now employ.
“With what eagerness did Mr. Frohman wait our visits to the city
and listen to the new scenes! Towards the latter part of August
we had completed a five-act drama, which we handed in with the
understanding that it might be cut, revised and rewritten. We told
Mr. Frohman that if it did not come up to expectations there was
time for him to look elsewhere for a play.
“It must have been after the reading of the Third Act that Mr.
Frohman’s office door opened and he rushed out crying: ’By Jove,
it’s fine, it’s splendid!’ De Mille and I didn’t stop. We hurried
to the station and were off to Echo Lake for our vacation....”
The play of “The Wife” is in five acts and it involves fourteen
persons. Its scenes are laid in Newport, New York, and Washington,
D. C., about 1887. Its dialogue is written in that strain of
commonplace colloquy which is assumed, with justice, to be generally
characteristic of “fashionable society” in its superficial mood and
ordinary habit. The influence of Bronson Howard’s example is obvious
in it,--that writer’s plan, which had been successful, of catching and
reflecting the general tone and manner of “everyday life” and often
of distressingly “everyday persons”; persons who, nevertheless, are
at times constrained to behave in a manner not easily credible, if,
indeed, possible, whether in everyday or any other kind of life. To
copy commonplaces in a commonplace manner is by some judges deemed
the right and sure way to please the public. That method does often
succeed, since, generally, people like to see themselves. This,
however, was not the method of the great masters of comedy, such as
Molière, Congreve, and Sheridan, who taught, by example and with
results of great value, that a comedy, while it should be a true
reflection of life and a faithful picture of manners, should also be
made potent over the mind, the heart, and the imagination, by delicate,
judicious exaggeration, should be made entertaining by equivoque,
and should be made impressive by the fibre of strong thought, and
sympathetic by trenchant, sparkling dialogue. That old method of
writing comedy, although it has been exemplified by the best writers
and is still attempted, has, to a great extent, been superseded by the
far inferior and much easier method of conventional colloquialism and
chatter.
The ground plan of “The Wife,” though Belasco may have thought it a
novelty, was, even in 1887, mossy with antiquity. A girl, _Helen
Freeman_, parts from her lover, _Robert Grey_, in a moment of pique, and
weds with another man, to whom she gives her hand, but not at first her
heart; she subsequently meets her old flame and finds that she is still
fond of him; causes social tattle by being seen
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID BELASCO CLAY M. GREENE
In 1887, when, in collaboration, they wrote “Pawn Ticket 210” for
Lotta]
too much in his company; admits to her husband that her juvenile
partiality for this early suitor still lingers in her feelings, and so
causes that worthy man some uneasiness; but she ends by casting her
girlish fancy to the winds and avowing herself a fond as well as a
faithful wife. “The guests think they have seen him before.” They have!
And also they have heard, rather more than twice before, two of the
speeches which are uttered: “As a soldier it is my business to make
widows,” and “Hell has no fury like a woman scorned.”
This is the story: _Helen Freeman_ loved _Robert Grey_ and by him was
beloved. _Robert Grey_ had jilted _Lucile Ferrant_, of New Orleans.
_Lucile_ informed _Helen_ of this fact, and _Helen_ therefore repudiated
_Robert Grey_ and wedded with _John Rutherford_, of the United States
Senate. _Matthew Culver_, a politician, hostile to _Robert Grey_ in
politics and at the bar, and wishful to defeat _Robert’s_ attempt to
obtain an office, persuaded _Lucile_ to apprise _Rutherford_ that
_Robert_ and _Helen_ had been lovers, and by many persons were thought
to be so still. _Rutherford_, investigating this tale, discovered that
_Culver_ had maliciously and meanly schemed to make mischief and that
the attachment of _Robert_ and _Helen_ was probably one of the
sentimental “flames” which are customary in youth; whereupon he rebuked
_Culver_, talked frankly with _Robert Grey_, advising him to stick to
his legal business, and presently procured his appointment to a
lucrative office, at the same time assuring _Helen_ of his delicate
consideration for her feelings and his intention to take good care of
her. _Culver_ then went to South America and stayed there, while _Miss
Ferrant_ repaired to the South of France, and _Robert Grey_ greatly
distinguished himself by laborious diligence in the public service. This
adjustment might have been expected to content all parties concerned,
but it did not content _Rutherford_. His wife actually had “loved
another” before she loved him, and on that fact he brooded, stating that
his heart contained nothing but “bloodless ashes.” Perhaps _Helen’s_
sentimental fancy had lasted. Juvenile flame was only a phrase. As
sagaciously remarked by _Emilia_ in “Othello,”
“ ... jealous souls will not be answered so;
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they’re jealous.”
The distressed _Senator_, therefore, sat up till a late hour every
night, grieving for his wife’s “lost love,” until at last _Helen_,
observing his dejection, was moved to discover and avouch that her
juvenile fancy for _Robert Grey_ had been a girlish infatuation and to
declare her “calm, peaceful, and eternal love” for her husband. _Mr._
and _Mrs. Rutherford_ then sailed, aboard the Alaska, for Europe. It
appeared, incidentally, that _Jack Dexter_ and _Kitty Ives_, giddy
things, though bright and good, hovering about the story, were lovers,
but that _Kitty’s_ mother did not approve of their engagement till after
_Jack_ had smirched his face with a bit of smoked glass, and also that
all the persons concerned in these momentous affairs once saw an eclipse
of the sun, which was visible in Washington.
Almost every person in this play is colorless and insignificant. The
proceedings of the characters evince no natural sequence between motive
and conduct. Given two young persons who love each other, they could not
possibly be alienated by conjuring up the bugbear of a previous
attachment. Nothing is so dead as the love that has died, and every
lover instinctively knows it. Moreover, the ladies, practically without
exception, are more pleased than disquieted by discovering that their
lovers have found they could live without others but not without them.
The fabric, in short, is one of elaborate trifling with serious things,
for the sake of situations and effects. The play should have been called
“The Husband” rather than “The Wife,” because it is _Rutherford_ in whom
the interest centres. The best scene in it is the one of explanation
and reconcilement between the husband and wife, and this was the
invention of Belasco, around which and for the sake of which the play
was written. It contains a strain of rational, fine manliness that wins
and holds attentive sympathy.
In studying the plays written by Belasco and De Mille in collaboration
it is essential to bear in mind the apportionment of the labor, in order
correctly to estimate Belasco’s share in them. The writing in that
co-partnership was largely done by De Mille: the dramatic machinery, the
story in action, was supplied almost entirely by Belasco, who acted the
scenes, when the plays were in process of construction, the dialogue
being beaten out between the co-workers.
This was the original cast of “The Wife”,--November 1, 1887:
_Hon. John Rutherford_ Herbert Kelcey.
_Robert Grey_ Henry Miller.
_Matthew Culver_ Nelson Wheatcroft.
_Silas Truman_ Charles Walcot.
_Major Homer_ William J. LeMoyne.
_Jack Dexter_ Charles S. Dickson.
_Helen Truman_, _Mrs. Rutherford_ Georgia Cayvan.
_Lucile Ferrant_ Grace Henderson.
_Mrs. Bellamy Ives_ Mrs. Charles Walcot.
_Mrs. Amory_ Mrs. Thomas Whiffen.
_Agnes_ Vida Croly.
_Mr. Randolph_ W. Clark Bellows.
_Kitty Ives_ Louise Dillon.
“The Wife” was so beautifully set, so perfectly directed, and so well
acted that, though at first the dead weight of the play oppressed its
representation, the public press, even at the first, inclined to accord
it an importance which it did not deserve. Georgia Cayvan’s
impersonation of the wife revealed anew the deep feeling and the
graceful art that had won her recognition as a favorite actress. Grace
Henderson (she was the wife of David Henderson, critical writer and
producer of musical extravaganza), who acted the mischief making, jilted
woman, _Lucile_, played with discretion and sincerity,--but it was
difficult for the spectator to believe that a woman with a face so
beautiful and a voice so delicious would ever have been jilted by any
man not blind and deaf. Henry Miller was loud and extravagant as _Grey_;
Herbert Kelcey was dignified, manly, and fine in feeling and elegant in
manner and movement as _Rutherford_, and LeMoyne was delightfully
humorous as _Major Homer_.
“The Wife” received 239 consecutive performances. Yet the fate of that
play hung, for some time, in the balance. “I knew, even before the
production,” said Belasco to me, “that it was too long and too loosely
jointed, but I felt it could make good; and Mr. Frohman had faith. De
Mille was pretty well discouraged after a week or ten days, and he told
me he expected he’d have to go back to school-teaching [De Mille had
been a school-teacher before he joined the Madison Square Theatre,
where, in 1884, Belasco first met him]. Brent Good, proprietor of
Carter’s Little Liver Pills, and also Stickney protested, in a
directors’ meeting, that the play was a failure and was losing money and
ordered it withdrawn.” The next morning Daniel Frohman instructed
Belasco to put the play of “Featherbrain,” by James Albery, into
rehearsal and prepare it for production as rapidly as possible. “I felt
certain,” Belasco has told me, “that ’The Wife’ could be made a great
money-getter, and I resolved it should have a fair trial: I held back on
the preparations of ’Featherbrain’ all I could,--and, meantime, De Mille
and I altered and cut, day after day, on our play. This procedure was
justified by the result. Writing on this subject, Belasco declares: “It
seemed to us that for every word we cut from ’The Wife’ we gained a
person in the orchestra.” What a pity the necessary pruning and
adjustment could not have been done before the production! Then the
prosperity of a theatre and of many persons would not have been
endangered. The sum of more than $50,000, owed to the Tiffany Studios,
was paid in full, out of the profits of “The Wife,” and the directors of
the corporation, as also Daniel Frohman, were so well satisfied with the
ultimate result that Belasco and De Mille were commissioned to write the
next new play required, for the following season, which was to be one
constructed as a starring vehicle for Edward H. Sothern, who had been
“inherited” by the Lyceum management under a contract with Helen
Dauvray.
REVISION OF “SHE.”
The first dramatic work done by Belasco, after he had dismissed “The
Wife,” was a revision of a drama called “She,” made by William H.
Gillette on the basis of Rider Haggard’s novel of that name. This was
produced, November 29, 1887, at Niblo’s Garden, New York, by Isaac B.
Rich and Al. Hayman.
The signal talent of Haggard is not well displayed in “She,”--in which
the tone is sensual and the literary art inferior, and in which, indeed,
it can fairly be said that the author has collected materials and
outlined a plan for a work of fiction, rather than that he has
adequately utilized his materials and plan. There is in it little
indication of distinctive intellectual character or of scrutinizing
artistic revision, and, although contemporary with both Worcester’s and
Webster’s “Unabridged,” the writer frequently informs his readers that
words are wanting to describe the objects he has undertaken to portray.
“She,” therefore, notwithstanding that it contains attributes of merit,
is, as Haggard left it, a verbose and chaotic narrative, presenting the
apotheosis of woman as a handsome animal. The story, however, presents
melodramatic points tributary to situation and several of those points
were utilized for stage presentment and invested with picturesque
scenery. The play begins with a shipwreck on the coast of Africa. “Set
waves” swung on obvious cordage. A “profile” boat went to pieces on a
rock. Lightnings flashed. A quantity of real water was projected into
the air. And a band of adventurous seekers after the inscrutable and
awful female personality known as _She_ were rescued, to pass through
manifold adventures, including encounters with African cannibals and
terminating with a quest for the Fire of Life, in which, when found, the
mystical _Princess_ was destroyed. Particular recital of the incidents
of the stage adaptation is not requisite here: the novel,
extraordinarily popular in its day, is still accessible to the curious.
The form adopted by Gillette in framing his histrionic synopsis of the
book is that of genuine, old-fashioned melodrama,--the form of
theatrical spectacle interblended with music that was in fashion a
century ago. There is an opening chorus. African savages, auxiliary to
the proceedings, chant. The heroine woos her favorite in a melodious
adjuration, and bursts into song on her lover’s breast. Music is
introduced in the most unlikely places. Even the cannibals utter their
stomachs in harmonious howls, preparatory to a feast on the flesh of
man. “She,” as adapted by Gillette, was in part reconstructed and
improved by Belasco, to whom such curious fabrics of more or less
ridiculous spectacle had been familiar in his early days and who readily
rectified its technical defects. “It was simply a matter of curtailing
and readjusting,” he afterward wrote; “when the scenes and situations
were rehearsed again it was found that we had a very good play”: the
accuracy of the latter statement, of course, depends on the standard of
merit applied in determining what constitutes a “good play.” Belasco did
not revise “She” until near the end of the New York engagement, that is,
about the middle of December, 1887. The play was transferred from New
York to the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston, and there, and elsewhere in
the country, it was prosperously presented.
“LORD CHUMLEY” AND E. H. SOTHERN.
During the early part of 1888 Belasco did some work as a teacher of
acting, bestowing, at the request of Daniel Frohman, special attention
on instruction of Mrs. James G. Blaine, Jr. (Mary Nevin), a person of
social influence--and therefore potentially valuable to the management
of the Lyceum Theatre--whose aspirations for a theatrical career were
terminated by serious illness. Toward Spring the necessity of executing
the commission to write a new play for the use of Sothern, at the
Lyceum, compelled Belasco to lay aside all other labor, and, about
March-April, in company with De Mille, he repaired to Echo Lake, and
there, after trying and rejecting many dramatic schemes, the co-mates in
authorship finally hit upon one to their liking. By about July 1 (1888)
they had practically completed a new play, entitled “Lord Chumley,” and
they returned to New York in order that Belasco might put it into
rehearsal. In doing this he had to confront an unexpected difficulty:
Sothern, who had expressed himself as satisfied on reading the scenario
of the play, did not like the part of _Chumley_ in the finished work
and, as Mr. Frohman informed the disgruntled authors, was averse to
undertaking it. Belasco writes of this: “‘But the character’s Sothern,’
I said; ’every look, gesture, and exclamation fits him like a glove!’...
Of course, it was the old story all over again; an actor never knows
what is best suited to him.” The latter notion is, I think, extravagant:
for every instance wherein an actor has made a notable success in
playing a part against his judgment and will a dozen could be cited
wherein the actor has known his powers and made his distinctive success
by following his own judgment in selection of the part to be played.
“You are mistaken,” Charles Burke told a friend, who had exclaimed to
him, in a burst of admiration, “You don’t know what a good actor you
are!”, “I know _exactly_ what a good actor I am, and _exactly_ what I
can do on the stage.” Sothern, as his later career has shown, cherished
ambition to act parts of a very different character from _Chumley_, but,
fortunately for all concerned, he consented to undertake that part,
after Belasco had expounded it to him; the rehearsals were carried on
with diligence and, on August 21, 1888, “Lord Chumley” was produced, for
the first time anywhere, at the Lyceum Theatre.
The play of “Lord Chumley” is a mosaic of many old dramatic situations,
culled from various earlier plays, revamped and intercalated so as to
make a sequent story, and it can rightly be designated a comedy, tinged
with melodrama and farce. _Chumley_ is a young English lord, a gentleman
by nature as well as birth; simple, generous, sincere, intrepid, and
acute, but hampered by shyness, an impediment in his speech, and a
superficial aspect of inanity. He impoverishes himself in order to serve
a friend, _Hugh Butterworth_, an imprudent young fellow, an officer in
the British Army, who is being victimized by a specious French rascal.
This malignant person wishes to wed the officer’s sister, _Miranda_, and
by threatening to ruin that young man’s reputation has extorted from her
a promise of marriage. The lady is beloved by _Chumley_, who intervenes
and prevents the marriage, incidentally vindicating himself in her
opinion: she has at first believed him to be a fool and later a
blackguard, but she ends by perceiving his intrinsically fine character
and reciprocating his love. In the course of his variegated experience
he contrives to make himself misunderstood in attempting to tell his
troubles to a sympathetic spinster; he dwells without repining in the
squalor of a miserable lodging, to which his generous
self-impoverishment has reduced him; he confronts a desperate burglar
in the dark and, armed only with a cigarette-holder shaped like a
pistol, he fools, cows, and overcomes him; he exhibits astounding
physical prowess in conflict with a burly antagonist, and he displays
amazing mental acuteness in penetrating and defeating the malevolent
purposes of a villain.
Belasco, writing of himself and his co-worker De Mille, says: “For a
month we talked over Sothern’s play without a single idea. At this time
[1887-’88] pistol cigarette-holders came into fashion. I bought one in
the village [near Echo Lake] to amuse the De Mille children, but forgot
to take it out of my hip pocket. The next day as De Mille and I were out
walking in the snow I leaned against a tree, drew the toy pistol from my
pocket, and called out: ’Stand and deliver,’ and in a flash the foolish
situation gave us the first idea for what was afterward called
’Chumley.’ We used this serio-comic situation in our Second Act, where
_Chumley_ holds a real thief at bay with his cigarette-case.” That, no
doubt, is a correct account of the “first idea”; others came from
Belasco’s ample store of recollections. _Chumley_, as a character, is a
remote variant of the elder Sothern’s _Dundreary_, superimposed on H. J.
Byron’s _Sir Simon Simple_, in “Not Such a Fool as He Looks,”--which
was written for Charles Mathews. In the development of the plot in
which he is implicated and the treatment of the character there is much
reminiscence--touches of _John Mildmay_, in his scene with _Captain
Hawksley_, in “Still Waters Run Deep”; of _Harry Jasper_, in “A Bachelor
of Arts”; of _Sir Bashful Constant_, _Arthur Chilton_, _Mr. Toots_, and,
in particular, _Eliott Gray_, in his scene with _Myles McKenna_, in
“Rosedale.” All the situations indicated have long been used as common
property. The merit of the play consists in the effectiveness with which
those situations are employed and in the bright, fluent, and generally
telling dialogue with which they are interfused. _Chumley_ is an
extremely long part. Sothern’s performance was exceptionally good, and
it was received by public and press with copious approbation. The
success of the play was unequivocal: it held the stage till November 11.
On November 13 Pinero’s “Sweet Lavender” succeeded it, but with the
production of that excellent drama at the Lyceum Belasco had,
practically, nothing to do: “Sweet Lavender” was sent to New York from
London and was “put on” in exact accordance with the prompt-copy as
prepared by the author when making Edward Terry’s presentment of it.
This was the original cast of “Lord Chumley,” at the Lyceum:
_Adam Butterworth_ C. B. Bishop.
_Lieut. Hugh Butterworth_ Frank Carlyle.
_Gasper Le Sage_ Herbert Archer.
_Tommy Tucker_ Rowland Buckstone.
_Blink Bank_ George Backus.
_Winterbottom_ A. W. Gregory.
_Eleanor_ Belle Archer.
_Jessie Deane_ Dora Leslie.
_Lady Alexander Barker_ Fannie Addison.
_Meg_ Etta Hawkins.
_Miranda_ Rosa Stark.
_Lord George Cholmondeley_ (_known as “Chumley”_) E. H. Sothern.
“THE KAFFIR DIAMOND.”
In the period from August 21, 1888, to November 19, 1889, Belasco’s
labors were many and various. As soon as “Lord Chumley” had been
produced, and while yet he was engaged, as customary with him, in
smoothing and improving that new venture, he began work, for Louis
Aldrich, on revision of a play by Edward J. Swartz, called “The Kaffir
Diamond,” which had been written for Aldrich, as a starring vehicle.
That play is a wild and whirling kaleidoscopic melodrama, devised for
the pleasure of those theatre-goers who seek entertainment in
extravagant situations and violent, tumultuous actions,--a play of the
class typified by “The Gambler’s Fate; or, The Doomed House,” “The
Lonely Man of the Ocean,” “The King of the Opium Ring,” etc.,--and
Belasco’s work on it must have caused him to remember, perhaps with
amusement, his fabrication of many similar “shockers,” in his early San
Francisco and Virginia City days. The central character of “The Kaffir
Diamond,” a person named _Shoulders_, is a misanthropical drunkard, made
so by suffering, who inhabits a miasmatic swamp, in Africa, subsisting
largely on liquor and the hope of revenge. This person believes himself
to have been robbed, in days of prosperity, of wife and daughter, by a
_Colonel_ in the British Army, and, in seeking for revenge, he nearly
effects the ruin of a woman who proves to be his long-lost daughter, and
he succeeds in confining the detested _Colonel_ in the poisonous swamp,
where he intends that he shall miserably perish, only to discover that,
instead of being his wronger, that gallant soldier is his best friend.
Blended with this plot, or, rather, tangled into it, is a
double-barrelled love story, the theft of a diamond of priceless worth,
and a medley of incidents incorporative of brawling, lynching, and
miscellaneous riot. Aldrich, as _Shoulders_, personated in a
surprisingly simple manner the wretched victim of weak character, strong
drink, misfortune, and mistaken enmity, giving a performance which,
while devoid of imaginative quality, was nevertheless effective, because
of the innate sturdy manliness of the actor and of his artistically
rough evincement of strong emotion blended with human weakness. This was
the cast:
_Shoulders_ Louis Aldrich.
_Robert Douglas_ M. J. Jordan.
_Downey Dick_ Joseph A. Wilkes.
_Bye-Bye_ Johnny Booker.
_Col. Richard Grantley_ Fraser Coulter.
_Walter Douglas_ Charles Mackay.
_Sergt. Tim Meehan_ Charles Bowser.
_Millicent Douglas_ Dora Goldthwaite.
_Alice Rodney_ Isabelle Evesson.
_Sanderson_ J. H. Hutchinson.
_Orderly_ William McCloy.
_Courier_ M. C. Williams.
_Mme. Biff_ Adele Palma.
Belasco participated in the work of placing “The Kaffir Diamond” on the
stage, receiving a payment of $300, and on September 11, 1888, it was
acted, in a handsome setting, at the Broadway Theatre, New York, but it
was unsuccessful and it lasted only till October 13.
LOUIS ALDRICH.
Louis Aldrich (1843-1901) was a good actor. He was a Hebrew, a native of
Ohio, and his true name was Lyon. In childhood he was known on the
stage as Master Moses, and also as Master McCarthy. His first appearance
was made, September, 1855, at Cleveland, Ohio, as _Glo’ster_, in scenes
from “King Richard III.” He performed with the Marsh Juvenile Comedians,
beginning in 1858, for about five years. His last professional
appearance occurred, March 25, 1899, at the New York Academy of Music,
as _Colonel Swift_, in Anson Pond’s play of “Her Atonement.” His most
striking performance was that of _Joe Saunders_, in Bartley Campbell’s
“My Partner,” first produced at the Union Square Theatre, New York,
September 16, 1879. Belasco, long afterward (1900-’01), arranged to have
Aldrich star in that play, under his management, but the ill-health of
the actor compelled abandonment of the plan. The death of Aldrich,
caused by apoplexy, occurred at Kennebunkport, Maine, June 17, 1901.
THE SCHOOL OF ACTING.
During most of the time of his association with the Lyceum Theatre
(1886-1890) Belasco incidentally labored as an instructor in the School
of Acting, founded by Steele Mackaye, and conducted in connection with
that theatre, and he achieved some excellent results. Being a teacher,
his view of the importance of the school is, I believe, somewhat
exaggerated, and also he mistakenly supposes, or seems to suppose, that
all instructors can be as successful in their histrionic tuition as he
has frequently been. His recollections of this part of his activity,
when associated with the Lyceum Theatre School, have been interestingly
written by himself, as follows:
“During the early days of my association with Mr. Frohman at the
Lyceum Theatre much of my time was occupied with my duties in
connection with Franklin Sargent’s Dramatic School. Mr. Sargent had
leased the classroom, hall and stage, which Steele Mackaye had
designed when the Lyceum Theatre was built. I am very proud to give
the names of some of the pupils who made up my classes: Alice
Fischer, Blanche Walsh, Charles Bellows, Maude Banks, George
Fawcett, Harriet Ford, Emma Sheridan, Dorothy Dorr, Wilfred
Buckland, George Foster Platt, Jennie Eustace, Grace Kimball, Cora
Maynard, William Ordway Partridge, Robert Taber, Lincoln Wagnalls,
E. Wales Winter, White Whittlesey, and Edith Chapman. _This list
stands as a refutation of the statement that the school of acting
is not of benefit in preparing for the stage_....
“A graphic picture of Robert Taber’s successful and almost
superhuman effort to overcome his physical disadvantages will
remain with me always. One day, as I sat in my studio, he limped
in--pale, delicate--almost an invalid in appearance. An illness in
childhood had left him with a shortened leg, so that he was
obliged to wear a shoe with a sole at least two inches thick. After
introducing himself, he told me of his ambition. ’Do you think I
can possibly become an actor with these?’ he asked, pointing to his
bent knee and drooping shoulder. The tragic pathos in his face
aroused my sympathy and I asked him to read to me. All his
selections were from the old classics, which he loved,--like many
another youth I have met, with the spell of the stage upon him. So
he read to me scenes from ’King Richard III,’ ’Julius Cæsar,’ and
’Romeo and Juliet.’ His reading was distinct, his interpretations
spirited. A flash of genius ran through the fibre of the boy; there
was strength and impressiveness in his delivery. He was thoroughly
exhausted when he had finished, and I was in a quandary. ’Surely I
can’t lengthen his leg,’ I thought; ’yet he wants to play juvenile
leads; he wants to play _Romeo_!’ I saw at once that Robert Taber
was not fitted to be a pantaloon actor, a parlor figure, for there
was a flourish and breadth to his style of delivery that dedicated
him to the costume play.
“He must have seen the perplexity in my face, for he said: ’Mr.
Belasco, I can raise $20,000, which you can have if you will help
me. You have assisted stammerers!’ I couldn’t tell him that a limp
was a different matter. Nevertheless, I resolved to see what I
could do for him. ’I’ll not take a cent of your money,’ I said,
’but if you will do as I tell you, we’ll see what can be done.’ He
agreed and there followed a regular campaign against a limp. It was
my idea to eliminate the defect through exercises. He worked
faithfully. He walked, he lay on his back, practising stretching
exercises; he studied the balancing of his body, throwing the
weight so that his short leg could be brought down slowly to the
floor, without any perceptible stooping of the shoulders. I had a
shoe made, with a deep inner sole, to take the place of the
unsightly shoe he wore when he first called upon me. After a year
of daily work, when he was ready to enter the school of acting, his
limp was so slight that it was barely perceptible! When he became
leading man for Julia Marlowe, whom he afterwards married, who
could have detected his deformity? His is a most remarkable
instance, and I have often recalled it. For it is an example of
what ambition and perseverance can accomplish, but few artists
would be willing to practise the self-denial and go through such
rigorous training.” [Robert Taber was born in Staten Island, New
York, in 1865, and he died, of consumption, in the Adirondacks, in
1904.--W. W.]
THE TRUE SCHOOL IS THE STAGE.
Observation has convinced me that, while the accomplishments of
elocution, dancing, fencing, deportment, and the art of making up the
face (all of which are highly useful on the stage) can be, and are, well
taught in some Schools of Acting, the one true, thoroughly efficient
school, the _only_ one in which the art actually can be acquired, is the
Stage itself. A master of stage direction, as Belasco is, can direct
novices in rehearsals, and, _if they possess natural histrionic
capability_, can, in that way, materially help to prepare them for the
Stage; but they cannot, in that way, be taught to act. An indispensable
part of any dramatic performance is an audience: without it, a novice
cannot learn to act, nor will it suffice to have an occasional audience.
The decisive ground for objection to the Schools of Acting, moreover, is
that, practically without exception, they are merely commercial
enterprises: they accept, regardless of aptitude, every student who
applies, because they want the fees. Belasco names nineteen pupils who
studied under him, some of whom have become proficient actors. No doubt
others could be named. What then? Belasco is a highly exceptional
instance of an accomplished, enthusiastic, practical instructor,
possessing the exceedingly rare faculty of communicating knowledge.
“I’ll not take a cent of your money,” he told Taber. How many other
instructors in acting are as scrupulous? Belasco applied the method of
actual stage management to the instruction of the stage beginners, and,
in some instances, with good effect; but it is to be remembered that
every one of his pupils who has since succeeded as an actor (and not by
any means all of them have) would have succeeded as well, or better, if
employed in the first place in minor capacities in actual companies; and
that against the number of graduates from Schools of Acting who have
been successful in the Theatre should be set the much larger number of
graduates--never mentioned--who, having studied in those schools, paid
for tuition and expended time, have never been able to act or even to
earn a dollar in the Theatre.
A REVIVAL OF “ELECTRA.”
After producing “The Kaffir Diamond,” and during the run of “Sweet
Lavender,” Belasco devoted himself assiduously to The Academy of
Dramatic Art (that being the correct name of the institution, which,
earlier, had been called The New York School of Acting), where, in
association with Franklin H. Sargent, who was the official head of the
school, and De Mille, he prepared an English version of the “Electra” of
Sophocles. This was presented at the Lyceum Theatre, on March 11, 1889,
by students of the Academy, and it was received with favor.
Writing about this production, Belasco says:
“The pupils of the Sargent School entered with great enthusiasm
into the preparations for our school productions, and we have had
many notable successes. I believe I am safe in saying that one of
these, the ’Electra’ of Sophocles, was the most remarkable
exhibition of amateur art ever seen in this country. It was so
accurate, so scholarly, so classical in every respect, that we were
invited to present it before the students of Harvard University, as
an illustration of the beauty and strength of ancient dramatic
literature. The faculty and students were enthusiastic in its
praise, and we felt highly honored that such distinction had been
conferred upon us. I understood then that it was the first time in
the history of Harvard that an amateur company had been transferred
from another city.”
On the occasion of that amateurs’ performance of “Electra” at the Lyceum
the stage was divided into two sections, the rear portion being higher
than that in front, and the latter being built out into the auditorium
in somewhat the manner of the “apron” of the old-time theatres. This
lower platform, in the centre of which stood an altar with a fire on it,
was reserved for the _Chorus_. The persons represented in the tragedy
stood or moved upon the elevated rear portion of the stage, which showed
the entrance to a Grecian house, with a view of countryside visible to
the left and to the right. Footlights were not employed, the higher
level of the stage being suffused with strong, white light which clearly
revealed the characters thereon depicted, while the _Chorus_ was kept in
Rembrandt-like shadow. That _Chorus_ comprised nine young women, in
classic Grecian array, who declaimed and sang commentary upon, and
advice to, the persons of the play proper. It should be noted in passing
that,--without extravagance and affectation,--all
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
A scene from the “Electra” of Sophocles, as produced by Belasco, at the
old Lyceum Theatre, New York]
the much admired and highly extolled “modern novelties” of simplicity in
stage settings and lighting displayed by Mr. Granville Barker, at
Wallack’s Theatre, in 1915, were used by Belasco, in presenting
“Electra,”--twenty-eight years earlier! The principal parts in the Greek
tragedy were thus cast:
_Electra_ Grace Hamilton.
_Clytemnestra_ Edith A. Chapman.
_Ægisthus_ Percy West.
_Orestes_ White Whittlesey.
MANY NEW TASKS.
Concurrent with his work in connection with the amateur presentment of
the Greek tragedy Belasco had also prepared for Daniel Frohman’s stage a
revival of Sardou’s “Ferréol,” produced at the Union Square Theatre,
March 21, 1876. Under the name of “The Marquis,” and under Belasco’s
stage direction, it was acted at the Lyceum Theatre, by the stock
company of that house, on March 18, 1889, but it proved a failure. It
was withdrawn after one week, and on March 29 a revival was effected
there of “The Wife,”--with the original cast, except that Louise Dillon
succeeded Vida Croly as _Agnes_. “The Wife” ran till May 18, when the
Lyceum closed for the season. Belasco, however, did not finish his work
with the revival of that play. Mr. Gillette had made a drama of the
novel of “Robert Elsmere,” by Mrs. Humphry Ward, and, gratified by the
assistance Belasco had rendered in the vivification of “She,” he secured
his services, with consent of the Lyceum management, as stage manager,
to set that drama on the stage. This was accomplished, April 29, at the
Union Square Theatre.
With the close of the season of 1888-’89 at the Lyceum, in May, Belasco
found himself once more commissioned, in association with De Mille, to
write a new play with which to open that theatre, the following season,
and thus again under the painful necessity of producing a work of
dramatic art not as a matter of artistic expression but under compulsion
of necessity. This task seemed very formidable. He had worked hard. His
health was impaired. His spirits were low. His physician had ordered
that he should take a long rest. It is a good prescription, and
doubtless, in most cases, it is the best that can be given; but few of
the weary workers of the world can take advantage of it, and no workers
are more strictly bound to incessant routine duty than those who wield
the pen in service of the Theatre. In these unfavorable circumstances
Belasco again repaired to the peaceful seclusion of De Mille’s home at
Echo Lake, and there the two dramatists once more sought to strike a
spark of inspiration into the tinder of dramatic material. The result of
this confabulation was, eventually, the comedy of “The Charity Ball.”
“THE CHARITY BALL.”
With regard to the question as to what subjects are best suited for
treatment in the Drama, Belasco, writing (February 9, 1909) to Mr.
William Bullock, relative to the plays of the late J. M. Synge, made
this significant statement: “I think that _domestic life_ offers more
possibilities to the playwright than any other theme.”
Those possibilities (as he understands them), which he has utilized in
several plays, are specially exemplified in “The Charity Ball,”--so
named because its purpose is to inculcate the virtue of taking a
charitable view of human infirmity, and also because one important scene
of it occurs at a ball given for charity, in the New York Metropolitan
Opera House. It rightfully ranks among the best existent dramas of its
didactic and benevolent class.
The principal characters in “The Charity Ball” are the _Rev. John van
Buren_, his brother, _Dick van Buren_, _Ann Cruger_, and _Phyllis Lee_.
The _Rev. John_ is Rector of a fashionable church, in New York, while
_Dick_ is a Wall Street stock gambler, a person of exceptional ability,
naturally amiable, but weak in character, self-indulgent, and wild; he
is harassed by business cares and is breaking under the strain of his
speculative pursuits. _Dick_ has seduced _Phyllis Lee_, an orphan, and,
though he is represented as being truly fond of her, has discarded her,
with the purpose of marrying _Ann Cruger_, who is an heiress. _Ann
Cruger_, secretly, is enamoured of the _Rev. John_. The _Rector_
befriends _Phyllis_, not, however, being aware of her misfortune and
miserable plight as the victim of his brother’s duplicity, and the
parson soon succumbs to her charms, fancies himself in love with her,
and becomes a wooer. His method of courtship is indirect. Being
inscrutably,--and impossibly,--blind to the amorous attachment of _Ann
Cruger_, he seeks the aid of that lady to win for him the love of
_Phyllis_. Then occurs the gay scene of the Charity Ball, in the course
of which a painful interview happens between _Phyllis_ and _Dick van
Buren_, supplemented by _Phyllis’s_ revelation to _Ann Cruger_ of her
relation to _Dick_, his admission to _Ann_ of his misconduct, and her
offer to _Phyllis_ of an asylum in her own home.
The wretched _Phyllis_, immediately after the ball, distracted by her
sense of shame and degradation, speeds through night and storm to her
benefactor, the compassionate clergyman, finds him in his study, and,
appealing to him as a Christian minister, tells him her sad story and
supplicates for any word of comfort. The arrival of _Ann Cruger_, who
has followed her, prevents the disclosure of her seducer’s name. The
clergyman, however, surmises the truth, and when his brother _Dick_
returns home denounces his iniquity, implores him to make the only
possible reparation, and finally induces that selfish sinner,--whose
conduct has been that of a blackguard, soften it how you may,--to wed
the girl whom he has wronged. A midnight marriage then ensues, the _Rev.
John_ uniting in holy matrimony his dissolute brother and the woman
whom, in his blindness, he has himself wished to wed. This scene is
crowded with interest, incident, character, feeling, suspense, and
dramatic effect. Later, _Dick van Buren_ has died, the _Rector_ has
discovered that he loves _Ann Cruger_ and that she loves him (and not
another, as for a time he feared), and general felicity prevails.
The surge of deep feeling in this play is sometimes effectively
commingled with playful levity: its pivotal scene contains a strong,
vital, emotional appeal. Under Belasco’s expert direction it was richly
set on the Lyceum stage and it was acted with exceptional felicity and
force. Nelson Wheatcroft played the libertine, _Dick van Buren_, in a
way to make him credible and somewhat to redeem the cruel turpitude of
his conduct. Herbert Kelcey was duly grave, gentle, manly, and eloquent
as the _Rector_. Effie Shannon, as _Bess_, the clergyman’s sister, with
her sweet face and agile figure, enlivened the representation by her
effervescence of girlish frolic. Grace Henderson,--much commended as the
_Effie Deans_ of this play,--gave an admirable personation of weak,
bewitching womanhood. The persistent choice of a singularly beautiful
and engaging woman for assumption of persons to be abandoned was again
mysteriously exemplified in the casting of this actress for _Phyllis_.
“The Charity Ball” was first produced at the Lyceum, before a
representative and cordial audience, on November 19, 1888, and it had
200 consecutive performances there. As originally produced the play was
thus cast:
_Rev. John van Buren_ Herbert Kelcey.
_Dick van Buren_ Nelson Wheatcroft.
_Judge Peter_ William J. LeMoyne.
_Franklin Cruger_ Charles Walcot.
_Mr. Creighton_ Harry Allen.
_Alec Robinson_ Fritz Williams.
_Mr. Betts_ R. J. Dustan.
_Paxton_ Walter Clark Bellows.
_Cain_ Ada Terry Madison.
_Jasper_ Percy West.
_Ann Cruger_ Georgia Cayvan.
_Phyllis Lee_ Grace Henderson.
_Bess van Buren_ Effie Shannon.
_Mrs. Camilla de Peyster_ Mrs. Charles Walcot.
_Mrs. van Buren_ Mrs. Thomas Whiffen.
_Sophie_ Millie Dowling.
MRS. LESLIE CARTER.
Belasco’s association with Mrs. Leslie Carter began in 1889 and
continued till 1906. In some ways it proved advantageous, but
considerably more so to her than to him. The maiden name of that
singularly eccentric woman,--a compound of many opposed qualities, sense
and folly, sensibility and hardness, intelligence and dulness, an
affectionate disposition and an imperious temper,--was Caroline Louise
Dudley. She is, I understood from herself, of Scotch descent. She was
born in Louisville, Kentucky, June 10, 186(4?). In youth she was deemed
remarkable for something bizarre and alluring in her appearance, one
special feature of which was her copious, resplendent hair, of the color
that is called Titian red. When very young she became the wife (May 26,
1880) of Mr. Leslie Carter, of Chicago. The marriage proved unhappy,
and in 1889 her husband obtained a divorce from her in that city.
Comment on this case of domestic infelicity is not essential here. Mr.
Carter was legally adjudged to be in the right and Mrs. Carter to be in
the wrong. Society, knowing them both, sided with him and was bitterly
condemnatory of her. She had few friends and very slight pecuniary
resources. She was confronted with the necessity of earning a living,
and she determined to adopt the vocation of the Stage. She had
participated in private theatricals, as so many other young women in
kindred circumstances have done before emerging in the Theatre, but she
possessed no training for it. She had heard of Belasco’s repute as an
histrionic instructor, and proceeding with better (or perhaps only more
fortunate) judgment than she had ever before or has ever since
displayed, she sought an introduction to him for the purpose of
obtaining his assistance as a teacher. That introduction she procured
through Edward G. Gillmore (18---1905), then manager of the New York
Academy of Music, and to Belasco she made known her position and her
aspirations. How crude those aspirations were, and how indefinite her
plans as to a stage career, can be conjectured from her response to the
first inquiry he made,--whether she wished to act in tragedy or comedy.
“I am a horsewoman,” she replied, “and I wish to make my first entrance
on a horse, leaping over a hurdle.” No practical result attended that
interview. Belasco, of course, observed the peculiarities of the
impracticable novice and, perhaps, some glimmering indication of a
talent in her which might be developed; but he was at that time
preoccupied in collaboration with De Mille on “The Charity Ball,” and
Mrs. Carter’s application was put aside and, by him, forgotten. She
returned to Chicago, but she did not falter in her purpose. A little
later, learning that Belasco had again secluded himself at Echo Lake
(where, indeed, with De Mille, he had sought a secluded refuge in which
to finish “The Charity Ball”), she again presented herself before him
and besought him to become her teacher and to embark her on a dramatic
career.
“Mrs. Carter came to me,” he said, “while De Mille and I were at work on
’The Charity Ball.’ I was almost worn out the afternoon she arrived--not
having had any sleep to speak of in two days--and she was almost
hysterical and frantic with fatigue, trouble, and anxiety. She told me
much of the story of her domestic tragedy,--and a heart-breaking story
it is,--and, as she told it and I listened, I began to see the
possibilities in her,--if _only_ she could act, on the stage, with the
same force and pathos she used in telling her story. I think a real
manager and dramatist is, in a way, like a physician: a physician gets
so that he never looks at a human face without noting whether it shows
signs of disease or not: I never look at a face or listen to a voice
without noting whether they show signs of fitness for the stage. Mrs.
Carter showed it, in every word she spoke, in every move she made: if
only she could _act_ like that on the stage, I caught myself thinking.
The upshot of the matter was that I promised to give her a trial, to see
whether she could _act_ as well as she could _talk_, and that, if she
stood the test, I’d help her if I could. After I returned to New York I
rehearsed her in several parts I had given her; I became convinced that
she had the makings of a great actress in her, and I determined that, as
soon as I could, I would take up her training and, if she proved as
talented as I thought her, would try to strike out for myself and
establish her as a star.”
EPISODE OF “THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER.”
After having safely launched “The Charity Ball” Belasco turned to the
task of making Mrs. Carter an actress. It seems almost incredible, but
such was the existing animosity toward her that,--notwithstanding his
theatrical connections and although he had performed many friendly
services for persons of authority in the Theatre, and was, moreover, the
stage manager and dramatist of the Lyceum,--Belasco was unable to secure
the use of a stage on which to conduct her rehearsals. To hire one, at a
high rental, might have been practicable, but neither he nor his pupil
possessed money enough to pay the rent of a stage. From this dilemma an
apparent means of exit presented itself. The beautiful and popular child
actress, Elsie Leslie, who had played at the Lyceum in “Editha’s
Burglar” and also, with phenomenal success, in “Little Lord Fauntleroy,”
had suggested to Samuel L. Clemens, “Mark Twain,” who was always
friendly toward her, a dramatization of his story of “The Prince and the
Pauper,” in which she should appear, playing both _Tom Canty_ and
_Prince Edward of Wales_. The plan suggested by that clever child had
been adopted; Mrs. Abby Sage Richardson had prepared an acting version
of Twain’s book, and it had been produced, December 24, 1889, at the
Park Theatre, Philadelphia, under the management of Daniel Frohman. The
venture was seen to be auspicious, but the play was found to be
inchoate, and the performances, aside from that of the little star, were
rough and unsatisfactory. Belasco’s need of the use of a stage for
rehearsals of Mrs. Carter was known to Daniel Frohman, who proposed to
him that he should revise and reconstruct Mrs. Richardson’s version of
“The Prince and the Pauper,” and also rehearse the company, so that a
production might be safely attempted in New York, in return for which
services he was promised the use of the stage of the Lyceum (when it was
not required for the Lyceum stock company), as often as he desired, for
rehearsals of Mrs. Carter. To that arrangement Belasco agreed. “I was
getting only $35 a week for my services at the Lyceum,” he told me,
“aside from royalties on my plays, and I knew the work on Mrs.
Richardson’s play and the rehearsals of the company would be heavy. But
what could I do? I have often been beaten--but I never give in. I knew
there was the real stuff in Mrs. Carter, but I simply had to have a
stage; I could make no progress with her till I got one. So I accepted
’Dan’s’ offer.” His
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
ELSIE LESLIE AS THE _PAUPER-PRINCE_, IN “THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER”]
expectation that the labor would prove onerous was amply justified. He
finally beat the play into an acceptable shape, but his trials with the
company were exasperating. Belasco, naturally amiable and ordinarily
both diffident and shy, can be, and when fully roused often is,
unpleasant on the stage. There came a time when he lost all patience
with “The Prince and the Pauper” company, and, at a dress rehearsal,
about three o’clock in the morning, called the company on the stage and,
singly and collectively, “in good set terms” and with expletive sarcasm,
gave assurance to everybody present that “except the little girl there
is not one, no, _not one_ of the lot of you that knows how to act--or
anything else!” This comprehensive denunciation did not redound to his
advantage or endear him to the management of the Lyceum. However, he
finally got the company drilled into respectable shape and the play was
successfully produced in New York, January 20, 1890, at the Broadway
Theatre, where it ran till March 1.
RETIREMENT FROM THE LYCEUM THEATRE.
Belasco, relieved of responsibility as to “The Prince and the Pauper,”
turned at once to the instruction of his pupil, Mrs. Carter, and for a
short time rehearsed her on the Lyceum stage. He had, however, hardly
begun the rehearsals, for the holding of which he had, in equity, given
so much more than it was worth, when the bargain was, in a singularly
disgraceful manner, repudiated,--Belasco receiving from the manager of
the theatre the following terse communication:
(_Daniel Frohman to David Belasco._)
“The Lyceum Theatre, New York,
“February 26, [1890]
“Dear David:--
“The Stockholders request me not to have Mrs. Carter rehearse on
our stage any more.
“Yours,
“DAN’L FROHMAN.”
Belasco’s resentment was, naturally and properly, very bitter. He had
been for some time conscious that he was effectively “cabined, cribbed,
confined” at the Lyceum. He had also been for some time in negotiation
with A. M. Palmer, looking to a presentation of the play which he had in
mind as a starring vehicle for Mrs. Carter. He wrote immediately, in
response to Mr. Frohman:
(_David Belasco to Daniel Frohman._)
“New York, February 27, [1890]
“My dear D. F.:--
“Your note in reference to Mrs. Carter received. When Mr. Palmer
was informed that the stockholders objected to Mrs. Carter’s use of
the Lyceum stage, he placed both his theatres at my disposal.
Therefore, she will trouble their over-sensitive natures no more.
As far as I myself am concerned, rest assured I shall not forget
their petty treatment of me.
“Sincerely,
“DAVE.”
It is probable that, without the sting of this contemptible conduct on
the part of the stockholders of the Lyceum (instigated, as I understand,
by complaints from Miss Georgia Cayvan), Belasco would, for some time
longer, have continued to toil in his treadmill at that temple of
liberal virtue. As the ultimate event has proved, it was fortunate that
he was thus annoyed. He had resolved to retire before he had finished
writing his acknowledgment of Mr. Frohman’s note; he sent in his
resignation soon afterward, and, on March 27, 1890, his association with
the Lyceum was ended.
A LONG, LONG ROAD.
One of my earliest and best friends, the loved and honored poet
Longfellow, sometimes cited to me a maxim (which, alas, I have all my
life neglected to heed!) that “he who carries his bricks to the building
of every one’s house will never build one for himself.” When Belasco
withdrew from the Lyceum Theatre (March 27, 1890) he had been for twenty
years,--notwithstanding his efforts toward independence,--carrying
bricks to build houses for other persons. He was conscious of this
mistake and dissatisfied with himself for having made it, and he now
resolutely determined to build for himself. During the five and one-half
years, March, 1890, to October, 1895, he worked with persistent
diligence, often in the face of seemingly insurmountable difficulties,
to train and establish the woman of whose histrionic destiny he had
assumed the direction and to achieve for himself position and power as a
theatrical manager. He had in mind for his embryonic star, Mrs. Leslie
Carter, a play which, ultimately, was written and successfully produced,
under the name of “The Heart of Maryland”; but when first he seriously
began the task of training that beginner for the stage even the plan of
that play was rudimentary, and it became imperative that he should at
once secure a practical vehicle for her use and should get her launched
as an actress. There could be no question of her beginning in a minor
capacity in some obscure company and working her way up: she had no
thought of enduring any such novitiate, though she was willing, in fact
eager, to perform any amount of arduous labor. But, with her, it was a
case of beginning at the top--or not at all. In general, that is a
mistaken plan; it results in utter failure a hundred times for once that
it succeeds; yet, sometimes, where backed by genuine ability and
indomitable courage, the course that seems rash proves really the most
judicious, and for those with the heart to endure to lose it proves the
way to win. The famous soldier Montrose wrote truly:
“He either fears his fate too much
Or his deserts are small,
That puts it not unto the touch
To win or lose it all.”
To that touch Belasco and Mrs. Carter determined to put her fate at the
earliest possible moment, yet not altogether without preparation for the
ordeal through which she was to pass. Belasco’s method of instructing
her was the only practical one: he treated her as if she had been the
leading woman in a stock company, under his direction, in circumstances
which made it peremptory that she, and only she, should act certain
parts, and with whom, accordingly, he must do the best he could. His
experience as a teacher was onerous and often discouraging, but he and
his pupil persevered. “Mrs. Carter,” he writes, “had no idea of the
rudiments of acting. In Chicago she had been a brilliant drawing-room
figure. Very graceful in private life, she became awkward and
self-conscious on the stage. Our first lessons included a series of
physical exercises, to secure a certain grace and ease of motion.”
During the period from April, 1890, to about June, 1891, according to
Belasco’s statement to me, Mrs. Carter, under his direction, memorized
and rehearsed (sometimes on the stage of Palmer’s Theatre, sometimes in
private rooms) more than thirty different parts, in representative
drama, ranging from _Nancy Sikes_, in “Oliver Twist,” to _Parthenia_, in
“Ingomar”; from _Camille_ to _Lady Macbeth_; from _Julia_, in “The
Hunchback,” to _Mrs. Bouncer_, in “Box and Cox,” and from _Leah the
Forsaken_ to _Frou-Frou_. Meantime, however, Belasco had a wife and
children to support, as well as himself; his resources were little and
day by day were growing less; Mrs. Carter and her devoted mother were no
better off, and it was essential that the hopeful but harassed
adventurer should add to his income, derived from miscellaneous private
teaching and coaching for the stage, to which precarious expedient he
was, at this period, compelled to revert, to eke out his slender
revenue. At this juncture his friend Charles Frohman, who had bought
Bronson Howard’s war melodrama of “Shenandoah” and had prospered with
it, and who had undertaken to provide dramatic entertainments for
Proctor’s Twenty-third Street Theatre, applied to him for a new play.
CONFEDERATION WITH CHARLES FROHMAN.
“There was an old building on Twenty-third Street. Proctor now
[1890] turned this building into a theatre, and ’C. F.’ asked me to
write a play _for the opening_.... Frohman,” writes Belasco, “had
persuaded F. F. Proctor to turn an old church ... into a theatre.
’C. F.’ was to supply the company and a new play. Proctor, a
pioneer with a tremendous amount of ambition, had been making money
in vaudeville and wanted to enter the theatrical field. ’Dave,’ ’C.
F.’ said, ’I shall depend upon you for the play.’... I advised him
not to wait an instant, lest Proctor’s enthusiasm die out. _The
following week_ the old church began dropping its ecclesiastical
aspect as fast as the wreckers could do away with it.
“I was strongly tempted to write the opening play alone, but when I
saw how much depended upon it I had a touch of stage fright.
Naturally, my thoughts turned to Henry De Mille.... We had always
been successful because our way of thought was similar and we were
frank in our criticism of each other’s work. He excelled in
narrative and had a quick wit. The emotional or dramatic scenes
were more to my liking. I acted while he took down my speeches.
When a play was finished, it was impossible to say where his work
left off and my work began [???--W. W.]. This is what collaboration
should be.
“It was five o’clock in the morning when I was seized with the idea
of asking De Mille to assist me and I hastened at once to his
house. I knocked on his door with the vigor of a watchman sounding
a fire alarm, and when De Mille at last appeared he was armed with
a cane, ready to defend his hearth and home. I told him of the
necessity for a play for ’C. F.’s’ opening and he agreed to work
with me. In the profession De Mille and I were thought to be very
lucky as ’theatre openers.’ Looking back, I see how many, many
times it has been my fate to break the bottle over the prows of
theatrical ships. Here we were again,--De Mille and I,--talking
over the birth and baptism of yet another New York manager!”
PROCTOR’S TWENTY-THIRD STREET THEATRE.
This recollection is not accurate relative to details concerning the
opening of Proctor’s Twenty-third Street Theatre. The site of that
theatre was, at one time, occupied by a church. Later it was occupied by
an armory for the Seventy-ninth Regiment, N. G. S. N. Y. Then it was
converted into “Salmi Morse’s Temple Theatre,” but Morse was denied a
license and could not open it. Under management
[Illustration:
From an old photograph. Belasco’s Collection.
HENRY C. DE MILLE]
of Converse L. Graves, who took over Morse’s interest, it was opened,
May 21, 1883, as the Temple Theatre, with a play called “A Bustle Among
the Petticoats.” Max Strakosch succeeded Graves as manager of the house,
and in turn sold his interest to Albert G. Eaves, a New York theatrical
costumer, who, in association with Edward Stone, conducted the theatre
for a short time. Thereafter, about 1885, it was restored to
ecclesiastical service as the Twenty-third Street Tabernacle. F. F.
Proctor leased the property in 1888, tore down the old building and
erected a new one, which, as Proctor’s Twenty-third Street Theatre, was
opened, May 5, 1889, with a performance, by Neil Burgess and his
company, of “The County Fair.” Dockstader’s Minstrels succeeded Burgess,
and on August 31 “The Great Metropolis” was there first acted.
“Shenandoah,” transferred from the Star Theatre, where it was produced
for the first time in New York on September 9, 1889, was presented there
on October 21, that year, and it ran till April 19, 1890,--receiving, in
all, 250 performances. Stuart Robson played there, in “The Henrietta,”
from April 21 to May 31, when the theatre was closed. It was reopened on
September 8, 1890, with a farce by William Gillette, called “All the
Comforts of Home,”--adapted from “Ein Toller Einfall,”--which held the
stage till October 18, and, on October 21, for the first time anywhere,
“Men and Women” was there produced. That event occurred _a year and a
half after_ the theatre was first opened. Descanting on the inception of
the play of “Men and Women,” Belasco writes:
“About this time the newspapers were full of a bank scandal. A
young man employed in a bank had speculated with funds and found
himself in a very dangerous position. His father, a fine man of
business, and a stockholder, had the sympathy of the entire public
in his misfortune. Owing to the young man’s speculations, the bank
was on the verge of closing, and the newspapers were full of
harrowing details. As I read the accounts I came to this sentence
in a statement made by the father: ’I’ll save the bank if it costs
me a million a day!’ ’Henry,’ I said, ’there’s our play. We must
deal with a father’s pride and love for his only son, no matter
what deed the son may commit.’ To me the father’s statement meant:
’I’ll save my boy, though I am left without a penny and have to beg
on the streets.’...
“Next to inventing a plot and story, our greatest difficulty was to
find a title. Our play was to have a universal appeal. One of our
characters was a liberal _Jew_. Because of the broadness of the
theme, we selected the name of ’Men and Women.’ It was an accepted
rule at this time to have two sets of lovers, but we broke all
traditions by introducing three sets of heroes and heroines in ’Men
and Women,’ for we attempted to depict the frailties and weaknesses
of many men and women. The Third Act represented a directors’
meeting on the night before the closing of the bank, with a number
of Federal government officials present. In order to be accurate it
was necessary to get information from some one who had been through
this scene in real life. I went to a bank cashier whom I knew, and
explained our dilemma. ’I’ll give you all the details of such a
night,’ he agreed, ’but you must be very careful. You understand
that I must compromise no one, or my own position will be in
jeopardy.’ Then he gave me much information, describing the
feelings of the financiers who walked under the shadow of arrest.
When I left him I had all the facts necessary to create a rousing
climax. I felt like a reporter who has gone after the news of an
event and come away with a photograph of each moment of a tragedy.”
THE PLAY OF “MEN AND WOMEN.”
This play would have been called by Boucicault a “comedy-drama”: he was
fond of classifying plays and he invented that designation (as well as
various others) meaning thereby to denote a “sensation drama,”
illustrated with comedy. The pervasive defect of the play, like that
which mars some other plays written by Belasco, in association with De
Mille, is an excess of extraneous details. Nevertheless it tells an
interesting story, well devised to absorb attention, and it possesses
vital dramatic movement. The comedy element in it is trivial. The story,
though somewhat confused, is stronger than that in any other of the
several plays written by Belasco and De Mille.
The main theme is the desperate situation of a man named _William
Prescott_, cashier of a bank, who is guilty of peculation and who is
striving to escape the consequences of his crime. An accomplice in the
robbery is a broker, who has committed suicide. The assistant cashier of
the bank, _Edwin Seabury_ by name, _Prescott’s_ close friend and the
betrothed lover of his sister, is suspected of the theft. At first,
perceiving that for his personal security he need only remain silent and
permit his innocent comrade to be ruined, _Prescott_, though drawn as a
man essentially virtuous, yields to the temptation to hold his peace and
let _Seabury_ be condemned; but on discovering that his sweetheart,
_Agnes Rodman_, is aware of his guilt and, out of devotion to him, is
willing to condone his crime and his additional iniquity, _Prescott_ is
shocked into remorse and repentance and he determines that _Seabury_
shall be saved, at whatever sacrifice of himself. The portrayal of the
strife in the minds of _Prescott_ and of _Agnes Rodman_ is remarkably
expert, vivid, and effective, the element of suspense being most
adroitly sustained.
_Seabury’s_ peril is heightened by the implacable enmity of the attorney
for the bank, _Calvin Stedman_, who is _Seabury’s_ unsuccessful rival
in love, and who, honestly believing the young man guilty, exults in the
opportunity to ruin him, and opposes every effort made by the president
of the bank, _Israel Cohen_, to weather the storm and save the
institution from ruin. The vital scene of the play occurs in the Third
Act, when, late at night, in the library of the president’s home, the
directors of the bank assemble to consult with a National Bank Examiner
and seek to contrive means to avert publicity, forestall a destructive
“run,” and restore the stolen funds. One of those directors, _Stephen
Rodman_, father of the girl to whom _Prescott_ is betrothed, opposes the
purpose of _Stedman_ to force public avowal of the situation, regardless
of consequences to the institution, and is suddenly denounced by
_Stedman_ as being himself a former peculator whom he, _Stedman_, years
earlier, has prosecuted, who was convicted, and has served a term in
prison, and therefore should be deemed an unfit person to suggest such a
composition of the trouble. The incidents and the language used in
depicting that meeting of the directors of the tottering bank are
skilfully and impressively used, and Belasco’s extraordinary facility of
dramatic expression, once his desired situation has been obtained, is
finely exemplified. At the last, _Prescott_ assuming his
responsibility, the way out of the dilemma is provided by _Mr.
Pendleton_, one of the directors, a half-deaf, crusty, apparently fussy,
muddled old man, who is, in fact, clear-headed and practical and who
provides the necessary money to save the bank. Condonement of a felony
is a dubious expedient, but in a fiction it is often convenient,
especially when, as in “Men and Women,” justice is seen to be done, all
round.
One singular “effect” in the central scene of this play was caused by a
glimmer of simulated moonlight through a stained glass window, showing a
representation of the Christ (rather a surprising object of art to occur
in the private library of a Jew, however liberal), after a fervid
expression, by _Israel Cohen_, of the need of charity and forbearance.
The wise counsel of the old Oxford Professor (cited and approved by
Belasco’s mentor, Boucicault, and sometimes attributed to him), that
when you particularly admire any special passage in anything you have
written you had better cut it out, might well have been mentioned by
Belasco for the benefit of his collaborator. There are several passages
of “fine writing” in “Men and Women,” which show De Mille to
disadvantage. The play will not bear close analysis: it was artificially
constructed around the situation at the crisis of the bank’s affairs;
but it admirably answered the purpose for which it was written, and it
had 203 consecutive performances, at the Twenty-third Street Theatre.
This was the cast:
_Israel Cohen_ Frederic de Belleville.
_William Prescott_ William Morris.
_Edwin Seabury_ Orrin Johnson.
_Mr. Pendleton_ Charles Leslie Allen.
_Mr. Reynolds_ W. H. Tilliard.
_Mr. Bergman_ Arthur Hayden.
_Mr. Wayne_ Edgar Mackey.
_Calvin Stedman_ R. A. Roberts.
_Lyman H. Webb_ Henry Talbot.
_Stephen Rodman_ Frank Mordaunt.
_Col. Zachary T. Kip_ M. A. Kennedy.
_Dr. “Dick” Armstrong_ T. C. Valentine.
_Sam Delafield_ J. C. Buckstone.
_Arnold Kirke_ Emmett Corrigan.
_Crawford_ E. J. McCullough.
_District Messenger No. 81_ Master Louis Haines.
_Roberts_ A. R. Newtown.
_John_ Richard Marlow.
_Agnes Rodman_ Sydney Armstrong.
_Dora_ Maude Adams.
_Mrs. Kate Delafield_ Odette Tyler.
_Margery Knox_ Etta Hawkins.
_Mrs. Jane Preston_ Annie Adams.
_Mrs. Kirke_ Lillian Chantore.
_Lucy_ Winona Shannon.
_Julia_ Gladys Eurelle.
The stage setting of “Men and Women” was uncommonly fine and much of the
acting was excellent,--notably the performances of _Israel Cohen_ by
Frederic de Belleville, _William Prescott_ by William Morris, _Calvin
Stedman_ by R. A. Roberts, _Stephen Rodman_ by Frank Mordaunt, and _Mr.
Pendleton_ by Charles Leslie Allen. Roberts was specially admirable for
the manner with which he suffused his impersonation of the savagely
implacable attorney with an antipathetic but wholly veritable air of
saturated self-approbation in his cruel assumption of righteousness.
The whole moral doctrine of Belasco, not only in this play but in
several others of the same class,--a doctrine upon which he dwells with
what, considering the existing way of the world, seems rather a
superfluous insistence,--is comprised in four well-known lines by Robert
Burns which, on the programme, were used as an epigraph for this play:
“Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman,
Tho’ they may gang a kennin wrang,
To step aside is human.”
It is. But many things that are human are reprehensible. “To step aside”
sometimes causes sins that can never be expiated, sorrows that can
never be assuaged, wrongs that never can be righted. The most terrible
of all words is the word CONSEQUENCES.
HATCHING “THE UGLY DUCKLING.”
Belasco, while colaboring with De Mille in the writing of “Men and
Women” and subsequently while rehearsing, for Frohman, the company which
acted in that play, concurrently continued his tuition of Mrs. Carter;
but it was beyond even his aspiring spirit and indefatigable industry to
undertake at the same time the additional task of writing a new play for
her use. In this dilemma he presently effected an arrangement with Mr.
Paul M. Potter whereby that playwright agreed to furnish him with “a
comedy drama” for Mrs. Carter’s use, so that he was left free to work at
his other tasks and to seek for capital with which to launch his star.
His next step was to arrange with Edward D. Price, a person widely
experienced in theatrical affairs, to act as business manager of Mrs.
Carter’s tour, Price accepting the office on condition that Belasco
would provide a capital of $10,000, to be placed on deposit in a bank
before beginning the season. This Belasco undertook to do,--not at that
moment knowing how he was to do it, but feeling confident, nevertheless,
that it could be done. On conferring with Mrs. Carter and her mother he
was apprised that the latter had contrived to obtain the sum of $1,500.
On learning that this would be wholly inadequate for the production of
the new play, Mrs. Carter suggested that application for assistance
should be made, on her behalf, to wealthy friends of hers, Mr. and Mrs.
N. K. Fairbank, of Chicago, who had been kind to her throughout the
distressing ordeal of her domestic troubles and who evidently believed
in her integrity and ability. This application was at once made, and it
was successful. “We will deposit $10,000 to your credit,” said Mr.
Fairbank (so Belasco has stated to me), “and it is to be used for
launching Mrs. Carter as a star. If you need more, you can get it by
applying to my legal representatives in Chicago.” “The only restriction
that Fairbank stipulated for,” added Belasco, “was the very reasonable
one that I should keep an account of the expenditures,--which I did, to
the last penny.”
Having secured a competent business manager and, apparently, sufficient
financial support, it only remained to wait for the play and to improve
Mrs. Carter as much as possible as an actress. Mr. Potter soon forwarded
the manuscript of his play, which was called “The Ugly Duckling.” On
reading that fabrication Belasco,--who seems to have expected much from
Mr. Potter,--was chagrined to find it artificial, flimsy, and
insufficient. Instead of at once undertaking to rewrite it himself he
injudiciously employed for that purpose a person named Archibald C.
Gordon, who was commended to his favor as being qualified to perform the
required work. This Gordon, however, turned out to be not only a
blackguard who could not be tolerated but also to be wholly incompetent
as a playwright, and Belasco, in consequence, after much annoyance, was
ultimately compelled himself to rectify, as far as possible, the gross
inadequacies of the piece. Testifying on this subject, in court, in
1896, he said: “I cut out _everything_ that Mr. Gordon wrote.”
Notwithstanding all impediments, delays and vexations, a company was at
last engaged, a theatre was secured, rehearsals were effected, and, on
November 10, 1890, Mrs. Carter, acting _Kate Graydon_, made her first
appearance on the stage, at the Broadway Theatre, New York.
“THE UGLY DUCKLING.”--MRS. CARTER’S DÉBUT.
The play of “The Ugly Duckling” is founded, in part, on the idea of
Andersen’s fairy tale, from which its name is taken,--the idea, namely,
that the supposedly least promising and least esteemed member of a brood
may prove to be the finest and most worthy of admiration. The story
relates to domestic tribulations in a prominent New York family, named
_Graydon_. The youngest member of that family, _Kate Graydon_, returning
home from England, finds her more valued sister, _Hester_, engaged to be
married to an Englishman, _Viscount Huntington_, by whom she has herself
been courted, in London. She keeps her secret for her sister’s sake, and
_Hester_ becomes _Huntington’s_ wife. A vindictive Corsican, _Count
Malatesta_, believing that in _Huntington_ he has found the betrayer of
his wife, the _Countess Malatesta_, entices _Hester_ to his apartments,
and then causes _Huntington_ to be apprised of her presence there.
_Kate_, having followed her sister, liberates her from this scandalous
situation, at the cost of compromising herself.
The play will not bear consideration. That Mrs. Carter should not have
been irrevocably damned as an actress by making her first appearance in
such a puerile composition speaks much for her natural talent and for
Belasco’s skilful tuition and management. That he should have risked her
advent in such a fabric of trash is astounding. Since, ultimately, he
established her as a highly successful star, I suppose he would maintain
that his judgment has been vindicated. I cannot but feel, however,
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
MRS. LESLIE CARTER
About the time of “The Ugly Duckling”]
that, had he embarked her with a good play, he would have brought her to
public acceptance much earlier than he did. In Mrs. Carter’s performance
of _Kate Graydon_ there were moments in which she escaped the thraldom
of solicitude and self-consciousness and clearly indicated possession of
the faculty of vigorous dramatic expression. This was the original cast
of “The Ugly Duckling”:
_Douglas Oakley_ Arthur Dacre.
_Count Malatesta_ Edward J. Henley.
_Professor Graydon_ William H. Thompson.
_Viscount Huntington_ Ian [Forbes-] Robertson.
_Mr. Ernest Granly_ R. F. Cotton.
_Jack Farragut_ Raymond Holmes.
_Chevalier Raff_ Mervin Dallas.
_Randolph_ Thomas Oberle.
_Mrs. Graydon_ Ida Vernon.
_Hester Graydon_ Helen Bancroft.
_Kate Graydon_ Mrs. Leslie Carter.
_Mrs. Granly_ Helen Russell.
_Helen_ Ida Macdonald.
_Agnes_ Fannie Batchelder.
“If it had not been for the interest of Isaac Rich, of Boston,” Belasco
told me, “whose friendship and good will I had gained through my work on
Gillette’s dramatization of ’She,’ and who was kind enough to help me
when it seemed as though most of the rest of the world was against me, I
don’t believe we could have got a tour booked anywhere. However, we
_did_ manage to get a route--and lost a fair-sized fortune playing it!
Mrs. Carter was made a target all along the line.”
MORE FAILURE, AND A LAWSUIT.
During this tour, though Mrs. Carter revealed fine talent and won some
commendation, the business was uniformly bad until she appeared in
Chicago; there, for the first time, the receipts exceeded the expenses,
and it began to seem as though the tide had turned toward prosperity.
But the venture had already cost more than $40,000, and Fairbank,
becoming dissatisfied, suddenly withdrew his support. “On the strength
of Mr. Fairbank’s promise,” Belasco declared, “I had given mine, to many
creditors, and now, when they pressed for payment (as they did very
quickly when it became known Fairbank had withdrawn), I was unable to
keep it. I had no recourse but to bring suit against him to make good
his promise and, most unwillingly, I prepared to do so.” Mrs. Carter’s
first tour under Belasco’s direction and the life of “The Ugly Duckling”
were both peremptorily brought to an end by Fairbank, acting through one
of his attorneys, R. W. Morrison, in Kansas City, on March 14, 1891;
the theatrical company which had been acting in association with Mrs.
Carter was disbanded, and the perplexed manager and his dejected pupil
returned to New York, where arrangements were presently made by Belasco
to institute a lawsuit against Fairbank. Writing on this subject he has
said:
“The Fairbank lawyers came to New York to see what compromise I
would accept. I said: ’Here are all the bills. If you pay them, the
incident will be closed.’ But they refused. Mr. Fairbank had hoped
the tour would be a financial success, the lawyers said, and he
would never have entered into such a speculation if he had known
how much it involved. ’Certainly,’ I answered, ’he did not expect a
theatrical venture of this nature to cost nothing! I am sure of
Mrs. Carter’s ultimate success,’ I declared, ’and I am willing to
bind myself by a promise to pay everything back’; but the lawyers
refused. So I put my affairs in the hands of my friend, Judge
Dittenhoefer, and the suit began. The trial lasted for three
weeks.”
Belasco’s suit against Fairbank,--which was to recover $65,000, as
reimbursement of losses incurred in presenting “The Ugly Duckling,”
payment for professional services as Mrs. Carter’s dramatic instructor
(for which services Fairbank had agreed to pay), and other
items,--remained in abeyance for several years. It was, however, finally
brought to trial on June 3, 1896, before Justice Leonard Giegerich and
a jury, in Part V. of the Supreme Court of New York. Belasco’s action
was met by denial and a counter suit for $53,000 by Fairbank. The issues
were acrimoniously contested at every point, but on June 23 the jury
returned a compromise verdict (as one juryman described it) in favor of
Belasco, awarding him $16,000 and 5 per cent. interest,--$20,000 in all.
During that trial certain newspapers, manifesting singular partisan
bias, went to scandalous extremes of exaggeration and ridicule in their
reports of the testimony in effort to disparage Belasco and make him
appear contemptible. One fiction then originated has persisted,--the
fiction, namely, that Belasco instructed Mrs. Carter by “pounding and
bumping” her and dragging her about a room by the hair. That tale was
based on an allusion to rehearsal of the shocking Murder Scene in the
revolting play of “Oliver Twist.”
Mrs. Carter’s acknowledgment of her debt to Belasco and her appreciation
of his assistance and his forbearance toward her are significantly
denoted in a letter written by her, June 3, 1890, to Charles L. Allen,
one of Fairbank’s principal Chicago lawyers, from which the following
words are quoted:
“He [Belasco] feels he cannot go on with me unless he is able to
make things creditable. He has stuck by me in my struggle against
prejudice; he has stood up for me, and given his personal written
assurance on every contract I have that things will be creditably
and properly done. It is owing to him and his personal influence
among theatrical managers that I have succeeded in getting the best
route and the best theatres--he has committed himself and will not
have failure meet him.
“He has helped me without asking pay--he has given my play--his
name--his instruction--he has given up other things--to put me
through: he will produce my play--he will answer for my success--he
stands sponsor for my first night, and before the entire
public--and he does it all without asking pay--ready to wait until
I am started for his remuneration--and _he did all this on Mr.
Fairbank’s promise to see me through_....”
In his “Story” Belasco makes this kindly allusion to Fairbank, which
indicates that the clash between them resulted from meddlesome
interference of persons inimical to him and to his star:
“I never regretted anything more than being forced to bring suit
against Fairbank. He was courteous, kind-hearted, mellow, and
human. I am sure that when he and his wife started to aid Mrs.
Carter it was their intention to see her through. I met him in
after years, and in the course of conversation he admitted that all
I had done for Mrs. Carter was done wisely. ’It’s too horrible,’ he
said. ’I was badly advised by my friends. You should never have
been obliged to carry, the matter into the courts.’”
A POVERTY-STRICKEN STRUGGLE.
When Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Dudley, her mother, returned to New York after
the demise of “The Ugly Duckling,” in Kansas City (1891), they
established their residence at No. 63 Clinton Place. Belasco lodged at
No. 126 Waverley Place, and almost immediately he resumed his project of
writing, unaided, a new play specially designed for the use of Mrs.
Carter. Having no convenient place of his own in which to work, he
obtained the use of a room in Mrs. Dudley’s apartment, in which to write
his play, and there he completed the first draft of “The Heart of
Maryland,” and incidentally continued his tuition of Mrs. Carter. I
remember seeing them once at about that period at Delmonico’s old
restaurant, Twenty-sixth Street, where I chanced to be dining with
Augustin Daly and Ada Rehan, and years afterward, on one of the few
occasions when I have personally met Mrs. Carter, she mentioned
remembering the same incident, saying it was so unusual for them, in
those days of trouble, to visit that pleasant place. They were, she
added, celebrating some little favorable turn in their prospects; “I
looked at Mr. Daly and Miss Rehan,” said Mrs. Carter, “and whispered to
’Mr. Dave,’ ’Shall _we_ ever “get there” and be, like them, successful
and accepted?’” To which, she said, Belasco confidently answered, “Of
course we shall!”
Speaking to me lightly of that period of ordeal, which was, in fact, a
bitterly afflicting one for him to endure, Belasco said: “But
Delmonico’s was not for us in those days: my family were, fortunately
for them, in San Francisco, and many a time,--habitually, in fact,--Mrs.
Carter and her mother and I ’dined’ at a twenty-five cent _table d’hôte_
on Fourth Avenue--and were lucky to dine anywhere. We had put all we had
into launching and exploiting Mrs. Carter, and those two women were hard
put to it to keep their Clinton Place apartment. As for me,--well, I
had, of course, some income from my plays, and I gave private coaching
to beginners and professionals, anybody who would employ me (among
others, by the way, Georgia Cayvan, who always liked to have me rehearse
her, even after I left the Lyceum), and I kept going, after a fashion;
but I had expenses heavier than my resources would meet, and I was most
of the time poorer than I like to remember--and all the time I was
harassed with anxiety.”
Writing of that same period, he gives this glimpse of a poverty-stricken
struggle:
“It so happened that at this time the first of the ’beauty
doctors’ and the ’facial-massage’ school were making fortunes with
their lotions. It may be interesting to know that Mrs. Carter was
sorely tempted to enter this field and bring out a preparation for
the complexion. In fact, she negotiated with a well-known chemist,
who advised her to carry out her idea. Lack of necessary capital
prevented, however, and she kept to the stage instead of becoming a
business woman. The world may have lost a very good ’skin-food,’
but it gained a fine actress.
“When ’The Heart of Maryland’ was finished models of the scenes
were made and I found myself with a play and a star--but no
financial manager. Every one to whom I read the manuscript was
eager to accept it, but no one wanted Mrs. Carter, despite the
success she had made. Every manager had a leading woman far, far
better suited to the part of _Maryland_. I never heard of such
wonderful leading women! The town was alive with them! ’Mrs. Carter
is not a public favorite,’ I was told on all sides. ’However, the
play was written for her, and I’ve made up my mind not to take it
away from her,’ I answered. The Lord knows she had suffered enough
while waiting for it.”
Mrs. Carter, beyond demonstrating her possession of genuine though
nascent histrionic ability, obviously had not made any
“success,”--except in her approving preceptor’s mind. Indeed, the
disastrous fate of “The Ugly Duckling,” impending legal contentions, and
the general social oppugnancy to Mrs. Carter were strong, in fact
seemingly insuperable, reasons for managerial hesitancy in making any
venture vitally dependent upon her for its success. Belasco, though he
adhered to his resolve that only Mrs. Carter should act the part of
_Maryland Calvert_, which he had devised for her, felt himself almost
nonplussed. He was heavily in debt; he had no employment; he felt
himself to be the object of active journalistic animosity; he possessed
no financial resources; he seemed, in short, to be on the verge of
defeat. Charles Frohman chanced to meet him at that time and, mentioning
to him “a play with music” which had then recently been presented in
Paris, made a suggestion that led to their first partnership in
theatrical management. “The piece seems to have made a sensation,” said
Frohman: “the American rights are owned by Charles Wyndham. The leading
characters are a Quaker father and his daughter. The daughter is _the_
part. Can Mrs. Carter sing? Because, if she can and you want to produce
it with me, I’ll get an option from Wyndham: you and Mrs. Carter go to
Paris and see the piece--and, if you think she can play the part and
that it will be a go in this country, we’ll do it together.” Belasco,
although somewhat doubtful whether Mrs. Carter could successfully
sustain the requirements of a singing part, felt that the proffered
opportunity must not be neglected; after discussing the point with his
pupil a decision to essay the venture was quickly made, and, on April
15, 1891, laying aside for the moment all other plans, Belasco, Mrs.
Carter and her mother sailed for England on board the steamship City of
New York, and from Southampton proceeded at once to France. “When we
reached Paris,” writes Belasco, “we found the Bouffes Parisiennes
’selling out’ and ’Miss Helyett’ the talk of the town. It was so full of
possibilities that I cabled ’C. F.’ to secure the rights before I saw
the last act.” That recommendation was promptly heeded by Frohman.
Writing of an interview with Edmond Audran, author of the music, which
occurred soon after he had seen the play, Belasco records:
“I asked him to give me a letter in praise of the singer who was to
play the part, but without mentioning her name, for not only did we
wish to create a surprise in America, but to avoid complications
with Wyndham in London. I knew he would want us to engage a singer
of established reputation, so I avoided mentioning the name of the
artist who was to have the title-part, Wyndham was quite insistent
when I met him in London, but I handed him Audran’s letter, which
proved to be the magic stroke. Before the day was over, all
arrangements were made by cable.”
“MISS HELYETT” AND MRS. CARTER.
The production of the mongrel play with music, called in our Theatre
“Miss Helyett,”--a fabric which commingles comic opera with the farrago
known as “farce-comedy,”--was a minor incident in Belasco’s struggle for
advancement. Audran’s music, though not in his best vein, is generally
tuneful, gay, and spirited. The text was “rewritten from the French of
Maxime Boucheron by David Belasco,” and the play was first produced in
America, November 3, 1891, at the Star Theatre, New York, Mrs. Carter
then making her only appearance in a musical composition, and that being
also Belasco’s only association with comic opera, after he left the
Theatre of San Francisco. The scene is laid at the Hotel del Norte, in
the Spanish Pyrenees Mountains. The story, which is indelicate, relates
to a ludicrous accident to a young Quakeress, of demure appearance and
frolicsome disposition, whose hypocritical father is conducting her
through Europe in search of an advantageous marriage. This female, known
as _Miss Helyett_, falls over a precipice and is caught, buttock-end
uppermost, in a convenient tree, from which predicament she is rescued
by a strolling painter. She manages to conceal her face from her
deliverer, and she parts from him without ascertaining his identity or
disclosing her own. Later she determines to discover and to marry the
man who is already so familiarly acquainted with her “secret symmetry”
(as Byron calls it), and that purpose she ultimately accomplishes. Her
search for the unknown and her discovery and conquest of him constitute
the substance of this operatic farce.
Mrs. Carter’s personation of _Miss Helyett_, while not deficient of
piquancy, was insignificant. As a singer she was in no way unusual.
Belasco relates that, while in Paris with her, to see the French
original, he requested Audran to hear Mrs. Carter sing and, if he
thought well of her as a singer, to teach her the songs in “Miss
Helyett.” “Audran was charmed with her ability,” he says, “and gave her
a number of rehearsals. Then he recommended an instructor and even wrote
an extra musical number for her,”--which indicates that Audran, as a
musician, was easily pleased. His operetta was highly successful in
Paris, and hardly less so in London, where Charles Wyndham brought it
out, at the Criterion Theatre, under the name of “Miss Decima.” It was
generally, and justly, though without rancor, condemned by the press of
New York. Nevertheless it had a considerable though not very
remunerative career in the metropolis: it was acted at the Star Theatre
till January 10, 1892, and on January 11 was transferred to the Standard
Theatre, where it maintained itself till February 13,--the 100th
performance occurring there on January 29. Belasco seems to have set
some store by it at one time, but that was long ago. Wyndham’s London
presentation of the composition was made July 23, 1891. This was the
original cast of “Miss Helyett” in New York:
_Paul Grahame_ Mark Smith (Jr.).
_Todder Bunnythorne_ M. A. Kennedy.
_Obadiah Smithson_ Harry Harwood.
_Terence O’Shaughnessy_ G. W. Travener.
_Jacques Baccarel_ J. W. Herbert.
_Max Culmbacher_ N. S. Burnham.
_MacGilly_ Edgar Ely.
_Prof. Bonnefoy_ Gilbert Sarony.
_Señora Carmen Ricomba della Torquemada_ Kate Davis.
_Marmela_ Laura Clement.
_Mrs. Max Culmbacher_ Adelaide Emerson.
_Mrs. MacGilly_ Lillian Elma.
_La Stella_ Henrietta Rich.
_Miss Helyett (Smithson)_ Mrs. Leslie Carter.
After its New York engagement “Miss Helyett” was taken on a tour of
principal cities of the country and was performed until the close of the
theatrical season of 1891-’92. Notwithstanding its intrinsic paltriness
and vulgarity, that play was practically useful to Belasco and Mrs.
Carter, providing a temporary source of subsistence for both of them;
yielding the actress some useful experience of the stage; permitting the
dramatist some leisure for meditation and for rectification of his then
immatured Civil War play, and leading, indirectly, to the writing and
production of one of the best dramas with which his name is associated.
ORIGIN OF THE EMPIRE THEATRE.
About March-May, 1892, James M. Hill, who had been managing the Union
Square Theatre since September 7, 1885, being in financial
difficulties,--which soon caused his failure,--found it expedient to
dispose of his interest in that theatre, which he sold to his brother,
Richard Hill, who directed it for a short time, beginning June 6, 1892,
after which it was hired by A. Y. Pearson and Henry Greenwall. During
several months preceding Hill’s failure a lease of the Union Square
could have been obtained, and that fact was generally known in the
theatrical community. William Harris (1845-1916), desiring to obtain a
theatre in New York, and knowing that Charles Frohman cherished a like
ambition, proposed to the latter that they should coöperate and lease
one. Frohman agreed to this, specifying that the Union Square was
available. Harris immediately undertook to confer with the persons then
in control of that house, but, casually meeting Mr. Al. Hayman, he
mentioned the
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
MRS. LESLIE CARTER AS _MISS HELYETT_]
project to that person. In a concoction of records, errors, and idle
praise which has been put forth as a “Life” of Charles Frohman the
following account is printed of the conversation which ensued between
them:
“‘That’s foolish,’ said Hayman; ’Everything theatrical is going
uptown.’
“‘Well,’ answered Harris, ‘“C. F.” wants a theatre, and I am
determined that he shall have it, so I am going over to get the
Union Square.’
“‘If you and Frohman want a theatre that badly, I will build one
for you,’ he responded.
“‘Where?’ asked Harris.
“‘I’ve got some lots at Fortieth and Broadway, and it’s a good
site, even if it is away up-town.’
“They went back to Frohman’s office, and here was hatched the plan
for the Empire Theatre.”
This theatre was built as an investment by Al. Hayman, William Harris,
and Frank Sanger. The corner-stone was laid in May, 1892, and the house,
leased by Charles Frohman and Messrs. Rich & Harris, was opened under
the direction of Frohman eight months later. That enterprising
speculator in public amusement, who had long been eager to establish
himself in the metropolis, in a fine theatre under his direct control,
keenly appreciated Belasco’s abilities, and at the time when the new
house was projected was associated with him in the presentment of Mrs.
Carter in “Miss Helyett.” Frohman’s main interest, however, was centred
in the Empire, and, though aware that Belasco was preoccupied with work
on “The Heart of Maryland,” he urgently requested him to write a new
play with which to open that theatre. At first Belasco demurred to the
undertaking, deeming it essential to restrict himself to the work he had
already begun, and to devote all his strength to the establishment of
Mrs. Carter. That actress, however, hearing of Frohman’s proposal and
appreciating the possible advantage that might accrue to Belasco from
his acceptance of it, insisted that he should provide the play for the
opening of the Empire, even at the sacrifice of an early appearance for
herself. The upshot of the negotiation was Belasco’s agreement to write
the desired play, in collaboration with his friend Franklyn Fyles
(1847-1911),--then dramatic reviewer for “The New York Sun.” “All
through the storm of malicious lies that Mrs. Carter and I had to
weather,” said Belasco, “Fyles had been sympathetic and kind to us;
writing under the pen-name of ’Clara Belle,’ he had given Mrs. Carter
many a lift and helped us a lot. I was grateful and I wanted to help
him, if I could; and he was an experienced, good writer, and I was glad
to have him to help me, for I wanted ’Charlie’s’ venture to succeed,
and I felt the responsibility.”
“THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME.”
The result of that collaboration was the widely known and admired drama
of “The Girl I Left Behind Me,”--the title of which was suggested by
Daniel Frohman. “We had much difficulty in choosing a title for this
play,” writes Belasco; “in fact, we had none as we neared the last
rehearsals. A Fourth of July celebration occurs in the First Act, during
which a band plays ’The Girl I Left Behind Me.’ Daniel Frohman was in
front, at one of the rehearsals, and sent me a slip of paper on which
was written ’The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ and that was how our play was
named.” Few persons, I believe, hear even the name of that stirring air
without a thrill: the associations with it that rise in any sensitive
mind,--the agony of solicitude, doubt, hope, grief, and joy,--are
irresistibly affecting; it singularly arouses apprehension and
exultation, and its association with this play is specially appropriate
because of its relevancy to the desperate military enterprise which
creates the splendid climax of the drama.
“After I had agreed to write the opening play for Frohman,” Belasco has
told me, “I said nothing of my subject, because I had made up my mind
to try to bring on the American Stage a phase of American life, on our
Western frontiers, involving the American Indian, in a new way; I didn’t
want discussion and I dreaded discouragement.” That, surely, was
discreet, because it is immeasurably wiser, where works of art are
concerned, to execute them rather than to talk about them. Belasco’s
interest in the Indian and Indian affairs began in his childhood: one of
his stepping-stones into the Theatre was his performance of an _Indian
Chief_, in Hager’s “The Great Republic”: and his determination to
undertake depiction, at once dramatic and veritable, of an aspect of
actual yet romantic life on our frontiers displayed sound artistic taste
in selection of a theme and shrewd judgment in opening a fresh field,
thitherto practically untouched.
At that time, early in 1892, the Indian troubles in the West were much
in the public mind. The fierce insurrections of 1876, under the
leadership of Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, Spotted Tail, and others, and
the lamentable slaughter of the gallant Custer and his intrepid
followers in the terrible battle at the Little Bighorn (June 25, that
year), had not been forgotten. Indeed, they could not be: the rising
under Sitting Bull, in 1890, after his return from Canada; the death of
that wily old Medicine Man, who was shot, December 15, that year, with
300 braves, when he sought to escape, during the fight at Wounded Knee;
the resistance to disarmament and the frightful massacre at the Pine
Ridge Agency, two weeks later; the vigilant and finally successful
movements of United States troops under General Nelson A. Miles, against
the Indians, especially the Sioux, incident to the “Ghost Dance” furor,
which was inspired by Sitting Bull and which extended through 1890-’91;
and the massacre at the Rosebud Agency,--all those events made the
subject unusually prominent in the public mind. Belasco and Fyles
labored zealously at their task and it was duly completed; Frohman
enthusiastically expressed himself satisfied; and, on January 25, 1893,
the Empire Theatre (thereafter, till the day of his death, that
manager’s headquarters) was auspiciously dedicated with a performance of
one of the most deservedly popular plays ever produced under his
management: it had been acted for a week, beginning January 16, at the
New National Theatre, Washington, D. C., in preparation for the New York
presentment.
EXCELLENCE OF THAT INDIAN DRAMA.
The play of “The Girl I Left Behind Me” is among the best with which
Belasco has been concerned and likewise one of the best that have been
contributed to American dramatic literature. Its superiority to all the
problematic, polemic, didactic, sociologic disquisitions, pretending to
be plays, which have, of late years, so cluttered our Stage, is very
great. The story is clear, direct, animated, sympathetic, and thrilling.
The persons introduced are various, natural, interesting, discriminated,
and finely drawn. The greater part of the dialogue is terse and
characteristic. The scene is laid in the country of the Blackfoot Sioux,
in Montana, chiefly at a remote and lonely outlying United States Army
Post; otherwise at Fort Assiniboine. The chief characters are
_Scar-Brow_, an Indian Chief, who has been educated in civilization and
bears the name of _John Ledru_, but whom education has only made more
bitter and revengeful, and who has rejoined his malignant tribe;
_General Kennion_, a veteran of the United States Army, in command of
the district in which he is stationed; _Lieutenant Edgar Hawksworth_,
_Lieutenant Morton Parlow_, and _Kate Kennion_, the _General’s_
daughter. _Hawksworth_ is a gentleman and a gallant soldier. _Parlow_
is a specious rascal, as yet undetected. _Kate Kennion_, though she
loves _Hawksworth_, has promised to marry _Parlow_,--this being an
inscrutable incongruity of the plot. _Parlow_ has, much earlier, seduced
and abandoned the wife of a brother officer, _Major Burleigh_ by
name,--under whose command he is now enrolled,--but who has long vainly
sought to ascertain the identity of his wronger.
The situation, at the opening of the play, is one of unrest, discontent,
and impending danger. The Indians, commanded by _Scar-Brow_, are sullen,
hostile, and on the verge of revolt, and they are about to participate
in one of their religious ceremonials called “The Sun Dance,”--of which
purpose the military authorities in Montana disapprove. A vague sense of
coming calamity broods over all the region and whispers of peril are
borne on every breeze. A formal conference is held, between _General
Kennion_ and his officers and _Scar-Brow_ and his savage warriors, at
which the _General_ commands that the “Sun Dance” shall not take place,
and from which the Indian _Chieftain_ then angrily and defiantly
withdraws. The time is the Fourth of July, and appropriate arrangement
has been made for a patriotic festival and ball, at the Post. _Kate
Kennion_ has come from the Fort and joined the ladies, to enjoy the
festival. There, in the lonely outpost of civilization in Montana, even
as in populous and brilliant Brussels, on the night before Waterloo, the
ball begins, even while the menace of danger and death draws ever
nearer. _Scar-Brow_ has desired, more than anything else, occasion for
an outbreak. After the angry parting from _General Kennion_ a small
detachment of troopers from the Post is treacherously and through the
cowardice of _Parlow_ overwhelmed in an ambuscade, and while the guests
of the Post are dancing and frolicking in one room _General Kennion_, in
another, is receiving dispatch after dispatch by telegraph from Fort
Assiniboine apprising him of a spreading insurrection among the Indians;
of messengers murdered, troops embattled against overwhelming odds,
intercepted appeals for help, and the swiftly approaching peril of an
Indian besiegement of the Post. Then, suddenly, telegraphic
communication ceases and the yells of the savages denote that the
investment of the stockade has begun. One hope--and but one--remains:
that of apprising the Fort, by messenger, of the desperate situation of
the Post. _Lieutenant Hawksworth_, every chance against him, undertakes
to attempt the passage of the cordon of Indians surrounding the
beleaguered garrison, and he goes forth, to almost certain death. The
poor remains of white men, with the women and children, are left to
face hundreds of savages, wrought to frenzy and capable of demoniac
cruelty almost equal to that of the educated, civilized Germans of the
present day.
Then comes one of the most effective acts of the kind that I have ever
seen. The place is within the stockade of logs surrounding the Post.
There has been an all-night vigil, with fierce, intermittent fighting.
The time is just before daybreak. The first faint gray of light is
beginning to steal into the sky; there is a reflected glow of distant
fires, and, far off, yet clear and indescribably horrible, are heard the
“blip-blip” of the Indian war-drums and the shrill, hideous cries of the
savage warriors, working themselves to frenzy for the last murderous
rush to storm and overwhelm the defenders of the Post. A parley has been
sought with _Scar-Brow_, and he rides up, heard but unseen, in the
slowly growing light, contemptuously secure and safe under protection of
the white man’s flag of truce. At the same time his daughter, a gentle
girl, friendly to the whites, making her way into the fortress to bring
water for the garrison, has been mistaken for a foe, has been fired on
and hit by a sentry but has stoically persevered and made her way in.
_General Kennion_ speaks from the stockade to _Scar-Brow_, warns him of
the punishment sure to follow his rebellion, and appeals to him to
restrain and withdraw his rebellious warriors. The savage is bitterly
contemptuous in his answer; the men within the Post shall die,--those
that die fighting the fortunate ones; the women, in particular the
_General’s_ daughter, shall _not be killed_! _Kennion_ cries out to the
ruffian, warning him that _his_ daughter, little _Fawn Afraid_, is at
that moment in the Post and that she is hostage for the safety of the
women and the garrison. There is a pause: in the reptile nature of
_Scar-Brow_ there is a strong affection for his daughter; then he
speaks: “Show her to me--let me _see_ her,” he demands; and as, standing
unseen outside the stockade among the sage-brush, he makes this demand,
his daughter, within, reels and falls and the doctor, tending her,
whispers to the _General_ “She’s _dead_, sir!” It is a situation of
terrible significance. The Indian leader waits for a moment, then he
denounces the _General_ as a liar,--and the next instant the wild
hoof-beats of his horse are heard as he gallops away.
A situation even more poignant ensues. There is a ripple of shots--then
a pause. _Kate Kennion_ steals from the shadow of the stockade: she has
heard the parley,--she knows her danger: on her knees she begs her
loving father, brave, noble old man, when the last terrible storm of
attack shall come, when there is no other alternative, that he will,
with his own hand, shoot her dead. This the agonized father promises to
do. Then, suddenly through the heavy silence, bursts the infernal din of
the Indian war-cries--the increasing crackle of rifle shots--the devoted
garrison answering, while ammunition lasts, shot for shot--and then the
poor old father takes his daughter in his arms, kisses her farewell,
causes her to kneel, bids her pray to God, and as, clasping his hand in
both hers, she sinks upon her knees and begins the Lord’s Prayer, he
slowly draws his revolver: “Our Father which art in heaven,” the poor
child’s lips murmur--and in the breathing pause is heard the single
sharp click of the pistol-hammer being raised--“hallowed be thy name:
thy kingdom come”--and slowly the weapon begins to turn toward her--“thy
will be done on earth”--and the barrel almost touches her temple--“as it
is in heaven”--“WAIT!“--and frantically she thrusts the pistol from her:
the father believes she is unnerved--wrenches his weapon free--is about
to do his deed of dreadful mercy--his child seizes the pistol
barrel--“WAIT--WAIT!” she cries--and, faint, far-off, yet clear,
unmistakable, thrilling, what she has heard before is now heard by the
audience--the cavalry-bugle blowing “Charge!” Then follows the rapidly
increasing beat of horses’ hoofs--the crackle of rifle fire, fiercer and
fiercer--the wild cries of the savages--the increasing tumult of
galloping steeds as, struck behind, they break and fly, and the
successful _Hawksworth_ and the relieving reinforcements sweep up,
driving the enemy before them to save the garrison and “The Girl I Left
Behind Me.”
That the _situations_, with one exception, are not new is known to all
persons of experience, whether of life or art. The situation, invented
by Belasco, of the death of _Fawn Afraid_, in the moment when _General
Kennion_ warns her father, _Scar-Brow_, that her life and safety depend
upon those of the women and the garrison, is new; the others, in form,
are old: the ball on the eve of battle has never been more imaginatively
used than by Byron, in “Childe Harold”; the representation of the father
who is to kill his daughter to save her from outrage is, in substance,
_Virginius_ and _Virginia_; the rescue of the beleagured garrison is the
climax scene of Boucicault’s “Jessie Brown; or, The Relief of Lucknow”
over again, with a difference. But what of it? The dramatic situations
possible in human life are limited in number. In “The Girl I Left Behind
Me” the treatment of the situations is fresh, vivid, vital. I have read
that those situations are made to order and “merely theatrical.” That is
untrue. There is not an essential situation in this play that is
improbable, for there is not an essential situation or experience in it
that might not happen, nor one that has not happened in the region and
period designated. The play, of course, has faults, and they are as
obvious as need be, to please even the most captious disciple of
detraction. There is a story of a Mormon preacher who deemed it
desirable to convince his auditors that “the Lord was but a man, as
other men,” and who undertook to do so by citations from Holy Writ. “The
Lord _saw_” he quoted--therefore the Lord had eyes; “the Lord
_heard_“--therefore he had ears; “the Lord _spake_“--therefore he had a
mouth and vocal organs; “the Lord _sat_“--therefore the Lord had hinder
parts, and so following. That is very much the method of criticasters:
they clamber and crawl about upon a work of art with a foot-rule and a
plumb-bob of censure, and seem to find delight and to suppose they have
fulfilled the duty of criticism when they have ascertained and
enumerated the defects or faults of the work under consideration. The
impartial critic, on the other hand, who studies “The Girl I Left Behind
Me” will, I think, most strongly feel a mingled regret and wonder that,
when a play of such exceptional merit had been created, the
comparatively small and easy amount of additional labor required to
relieve it of every considerable defect should have been withheld. The
necessity of completing it in a definite time and Belasco’s anxious and
harassed situation may, no doubt, explain the lack of needfully
scrupulous revision, though they make it no less deplorable. The
“comedy” elements, the passages between young _Dr. Penwick_ and
_Wilber’s Ann_, are juvenile, thin, and weak, and (the most serious
fault in the play, which easily could have been obviated) there is no
adequate reason provided why _Kate Kennion_, loving _Lieutenant
Hawksworth_, to whom eventually she is united, _Parlow_ being slain,
should ever have engaged herself to wed that skulking traitor. But, set
against it every objection that can be raised, “The Girl I Left Behind
Me” remains a work of sterling merit and an honor to its authors. The
atmosphere is pure. The characters are veritable. The events are
credible. The sentiment is elemental and sincere. The action is definite
and fluent. The dramatic effect, to the end of the Third Act, is
cumulative and thrilling. The treatment of the different
persons,--especially of _Major Burleigh_, _General Kennion_, _Kate
Kennion_, and _Scar-Brow_,--is remarkably felicitous; and the influence
is stimulative of manliness, gallantry, and heroism. The play was
splendidly stage-managed and superbly acted,--the elements of illusion
and thrilling suspense, in the Second and Third acts, being perfectly
created and sustained. A remarkably artistic performance, instinct with
authority, power, bitter pride, malevolence and cruelty, was given by
Theodore Roberts, as _Scar-Brow_. The obnoxious character of _Lieutenant
Parlow_--an exceedingly well dramatized scoundrel--is one that requires
a fine order of histrionic talent for its adequate representation, and
that requirement was entirely fulfilled by Nelson Wheatcroft, who
personated him with minute precision, yet in such a way as to win pity
for his weakness and miserable failure and death, as well as to inspire
antipathy for his wickedness. Sydney Armstrong acted with inspiring
vigor and feeling as _Kate Kennion_, and Frank Mordaunt with force,
dignity, and reticence as the _General_. Not many persons, surely, could
have gazed on the climax of the Third Act of this play without
tear-dimmed eyes. W. H. Thompson, who played _Major Burleigh_, gave a
picture of sturdy, simple manhood, suffering with fortitude, such as has
seldom adorned our Stage. It has ever seemed to me that some of the
extreme enthusiasm generally bestowed on “natural method” and
“perfection of detail” as exemplified in the performances of foreign
actors on our Stage might, more justly, have been bestowed on the
original production of “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” There was, however,
no lack of general appreciation. The play ran at the Empire till June
24, 1893, receiving 288 consecutive performances. This was the original
cast:
_General Kennion_ Frank Mordaunt.
_Major Burleigh_ Frank Thompson.
_Lieut. Edgar Hawksworth_ William Morris.
_Lieut. Morton Parlow_ Nelson Wheatcroft.
_Dicks_ Thomas Oberle.
_Orderly McGlynn_ James O. Barrows.
_Private Jones_ Orrin Johnson.
_Dr. Arthur Penwick_ Cyril Scott.
_Dick Burleigh_ Master “Wallie” Eddinger.
_Andy Jackson_ Joseph Adelman.
_John Ladru, or Scar-Brow_ Theodore Roberts.
_Fell-An-Ox_ Frank Lathrop.
_Silent Tongue_ Arthur Hayden.
_Kate Kennion_ Sydney Armstrong.
_Lucy Hawksworth_ Odette Tyler.
_Wilber’s Ann_ Edna Wallace.
_Fawn Afraid_ Katharine Florence.
After the first week Stella Teuton replaced Odette Tyler as _Lucy
Hawksworth_; and on March 27, 28 and (matinée) 29 Emmett Corrigan
replaced Wheatcroft as _Lieutenant Parlow_. On March 29, at night, the
play was acted with the following cast:
_General Kennion_ Maclyn Arbuckle.
_Major Burleigh_ Mart E. Heisey.
_Lieut. Edgar Hawksworth_ Harold Russell.
_Lieut. Morton Parlow_ Henry Herman.
_Dicks_ G. E. Bryant.
_Orderly McGlynn_ J. P. MacSweeney.
_Private Jones_ Frank Dayton.
_Dr. Arthur Penwick_ Harry Mills.
_Dick Burleigh_ Master George Enos.
_Andy Jackson_ T. S. Guise.
_John Ladru, or Scar-Brow_ Harry G. Carleton.
_Fell-An-Ox_ William Redstone.
_Silent Tongue_ Arthur Hayden.
_Kate Kennion_ Mrs. Berlan Gibbs.
_Lucy Hawksworth_ Irene Everell.
_Wilber’s Ann_ Lottie Altar.
_Fawn Afraid_ Bijou Fernandez.
The original company was conveyed to Chicago, and there, during the
World’s Columbian Exposition in that city, it performed “The Girl I Left
Behind Me” at the Schiller, now (1917) the Garrick, Theatre, for many
weeks.
THE VALUE OF SUGGESTION IN ART.
In the stage history of this play there is a significant and important
illustration of the vital principle in dramatic writing,--often
recognized and expounded by Belasco, yet sometimes by him ignored,--of
the value of _suggestion_ instead of _realism_ in creation of
effect,--the device, that is, so well expressed by Wordsworth in the
line “part _seen_, _imagined_ part.” Writing with regard to what he
learned from dramatization, at first literal, afterward suggestive, of
an incident witnessed by him during his wild Virginia City days,--the
funeral of a poor, misled girl who died in a vile resort,--Belasco says:
“About this time [1874-’75?] I think it was that I completed my
play, ’The Doll Master,’ which served so many emotional actresses
on the road. It was founded on many incidents in my Virginia City
career, and I remember how much I made of the scene occurring in
the house of Annie Grier. I even went to the extreme of introducing
the casket of the dead girl, and her weeping companions around it.
Then it was that I learned my first big lesson in _suggestion_--a
lesson which has been one of the greatest that has ever been
brought home to me. As a dramatist it was not incumbent on me to
show everything to the audience--only enough to stimulate the
imagination. My task was to let the audience know that somewhere
near was the casket. How many times since then have I spent hours
and hours devising the best means of thus appealing to the
imagination. In the olden days when there was a battle scene a
scanty crowd of supers was marshalled upon the stage in farcical
fashion, and you could hear the tin armor rattle as the warriors
fought half-heartedly. This matter of suggestion being uppermost in
my mind, it occurred to me that much more effect could be gained,
as far as proportion and magnitude were concerned, by having those
fights off stage. I put this theory of mine into practice when the
time came for me to produce my ’The Girl I Left Behind Me.’ The
audience heard the Indians chanting, and heard the approach of the
United States soldiers off stage, and they did not know whether
there were ten or ten thousand men at hand. It is my impression
that this was the first instance of suggested warfare seen in the
East.”
The principle here expounded is exactly right,--and, as used in the
original production of “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” it was splendidly
successful. Yet when that drama was revived, March 12, 1894, at the
Academy of Music, where it ran till June 2, Belasco, deferring to an
alleged or assumed requirement of popular taste, introduced, at the
climax of the Third Act, a troop of mounted cavalry, which dashed upon
the stage--and, though popular enough with the “groundlings,” spoiled
the artistic effect of the play.
An interesting sidelight with regard to the writing of “The Girl I Left
Behind Me” is provided in the following fragment of reminiscence by
Belasco,--though, whether consciously or not, it is certain that the
influence of Boucicault’s “Jessie Brown” (which he had produced in San
Francisco in his stock company days) operated on his mind in writing his
Indian drama:
A SUGGESTIVE REMINISCENCE OF FRONTIER DAYS.
Writing of the inception of this play, Belasco says:
“During the ’Heart of Maryland’ days, when I was in the South, I
met Mrs. George Crook, widow of General George Crook, who fought in
the Civil War and afterwards gained fame as an Indian fighter. Mrs.
Crook delighted in relating her husband’s exploits and I delighted
in hearing them. Her tales were exciting, and the general’s
uniform, his sword and pistols, his boots and spurs, made the
scenes she was describing very convincing and in my mind I
dramatized everything she told me.
“‘I always accompanied the general,’ said Mrs. Crook, ’and shared
many of his dangers.’ Immediately there came before me the
spectacle of a woman within easy reach of the firing-line, facing
the anguish and uncertainty of never seeing her husband alive
again, and her own terrible fate if the battle went against him.
One incident impressed me particularly. ’The general had rounded up
a band of Indians whom he had been pursuing for some time,’ said
Mrs. Crook, ’and the place where he was to give them battle was so
close to our camp that he was in great distress for my safety. He
condemned himself bitterly for having permitted me to come with
him. If the battle were lost, we in the camp would be at the mercy
of the Indians. An orderly was holding the general’s horse, but my
husband could not bear to leave our tent. Three times he started
and returned. He and I once made an agreement that were I in danger
of being captured I was to shoot myself. And now, under the stress
of great necessity, he reminded me of the compact, and saw that my
revolver was in good order. We read the Bible together, prayed,
kissed, and parted. All through the night I sat in the camp,
knowing if the battle were lost I must die before the savages could
surround us. I heard the sounds of firing, and knew the fighting
was desperate. After hours of waiting I heard hurried steps. Some
one was running towards my tent. I grasped my pistol, thinking my
time had come. “We’ve licked ’em,” I heard a soldier cry. He had
been sent by the general to tell me all was well. I sank to the
ground, overcome by the relief, after the suspense I had endured.
You can imagine my joy when the general came back to me!’
“I had always intended to dramatize this adventure of Mrs. Crook’s,
and decided to do it now. This was the inspiration for ’The Girl I
Left Behind Me.’”
BELASCO AND CHARLES FROHMAN.
Belasco and Charles Frohman were intimate friends during many years.
Their amicable relations continued until some time after the Theatrical
Syndicate became operative, and, although then temporarily interrupted,
were renewed before Frohman’s death. In the Spring of 1893 Belasco,
conscious of crippling restraint in his activities in theatrical
business life, became dissatisfied with Frohman, particularly as to his
managerial connection with the presentment of Mrs. Carter in “Miss
Helyett.” Some disquietude occurred, but no serious dissension arose, as
the following letter, showing Frohman in an amiable light, sufficiently
indicates. This epistle relates to negotiations concerning possible
productions in London of “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” “The Heart of
Maryland” (then unfinished), and “The Younger Son,”--the latter being
meant by “your new play that goes on here at the Empire.”
A CHARLES FROHMAN LETTER.
(_Charles Frohman to David Belasco._)
“Empire Theatre, New York,
“June 15, 1893.
“MY DEAR DAVE:--
“I have not written you in reply to your second letter to me,
hoping that you might run in and see me. Roeder tells me that you
are very busy on your play and could not say when you could run
over to see me.
“First: I wish to say that I have made no arrangements in London
for the production of ’The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ or the new play.
The points in this regard I prefer giving you personally.
“Second: I extremely regret the several censures you have made in
respect to my end of the work in connection with ’Miss Helyett.’ I
do not think that you have given me credit for the absolute
personal interest in the matter that I have taken, as far as you
are concerned, and which went far beyond the business part of the
enterprise. I think, viewing the fact that the opera itself did not
make a sensation, that I stayed with you, in the matter, to the
last, and should have continued, no matter how long we were
together in the thing. Whether or not you have thought over these
facts, and my determination in the matter, when you see the thing
from the start, I don’t know. I felt that you did.
“Now in regard to the new play--‘Maryland’--I want you to arrange
the thing in any way that you like. I prefer losing the play itself
to your friendship, which I was in hopes was strong and solid, in
spite of everything. I am perfectly willing to have you make any
arrangement that you may think best for the play. I would rather
withdraw than to have matters in a business way come up during the
season that would, in any way, annoy you, as far as I am concerned,
and which constantly seem to come up, when there are a number of
people concerned with an enterprise. I say to you again, don’t
consider me in any way; but, under any circumstances, I should like
to do the following for you, if you feel disposed to have me do it:
“I will furnish you with theatres to play the piece in. I will
absolutely protect the route for you, and as you wish it, in any
way. I should like to protect the piece in England for you, for, if
it is very successful, it would do no harm to spend a little money
to have Mrs. Carter play the piece over there, three or four weeks
next Summer. The arrangement can easily be made, if the play turns
out what you think it will. I should like to furnish you with any
people that you care to have, that I may have. In fact, do anything
in my power for you, or continue my interest in any way that you
may suggest; but it is impossible to give the personal time and
attention over to the work that I feel you expect of me, and which
it is impossible to give; and that is the reason the handling of
plays comes so easy. When they are once started, I do not have to
give them attention. If they are successful [then], the season will
run [them] along in their own way. At any rate, I am entirely in
your hands in regard to the matter and hope the outcome may be that
it will not interfere with the friendship that I feel sure has
existed between us.
“In regard to my announcement on my return here: you will notice
that I did not speak of your new play that goes on here at the
Empire. My intention was simply to give a list of the work I had
accomplished abroad, because the papers insisted upon having it. If
I could have had my own way I would not have spoken of any of the
plays I have secured, but it was necessary to do so, and as the
list looks very English and French I prefix my remarks by showing a
list of American authors that I have been making arrangements with,
previous to my sailing, so as to show that I was still doing
American work, and to save any comment on this point;--and,
naturally, [I] consider your piece to come under the head of plays
that I had already made arrangements for.
“I should like very much, if possible, for you to give over a
little time to Unitt, in arranging the models of your new play. I
want to commence on same, just as soon as Unitt is through with his
present work, so as to have the production ready, when we open with
’Liberty Hall’ here.
“Yours truly,
“CHARLES FROHMAN.”
A BAFFLED ENTERPRISE IN CHICAGO.
Belasco, though his disagreements with Charles Frohman were, for the
time, amicably adjusted, was not acquiescent to remain in a position
which, continuously maintained, would have kept him still a carrier of
bricks to the theatrical buildings of other men. He was now forty years
old. For more than twenty years his lot had been chiefly toil and
hardship: experience had taught him that “living is striving”: abundant
opportunity had been provided for him to learn the truth so tersely
stated by Wendell Phillips that the world is made up of two kinds of
persons,--those who _do_ things, and those who stand by to tell others
how things should be done. Though not embittered, he was in danger of
becoming so, and he felt more than ever resolved to _make_ a place for
himself in the managerial field, if he could not _find_ one. “I, too,”
he has said, “as well as Charles Frohman, had my dreams of a theatre _of
my own_,--a place where I could do things in my own way,--and _I meant
to have it_!”
Finding it impossible to obtain support such as he desired and a
satisfactory opening in New York (notwithstanding Charles Frohman’s
offer to furnish theatres for presentation of “The Heart of Maryland”),
Belasco now determined to try R. M. Hooley, of Chicago, who had
manifested interest and confidence in him, during the engagement in that
city of “The Ugly Duckling”; who, perhaps, remembered his early mistake
in refusing “Hearts of Oak,” and who certainly, like all other
theatrical workers of the time, had been favorably impressed by the
success of “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” Belasco at first wrote to Hooley
about Mrs. Carter, but, later, he visited Chicago, for the purpose of
stating his project in detail. There he found that Mr. “Harry” Powers,
Hooley’s agent and business manager of his theatre, was strongly opposed
to the idea of bringing out Mrs. Carter in that city. Powers frankly
said: “I have advised Mr. Hooley to have _nothing whatever_ to do with
your venture. This is the most fashionable theatre in Chicago: Mrs.
Carter is not wanted here, and we cannot afford to make enemies.”
Hooley, however, was in a more propitious mood, and expressed himself
willing to rely on Belasco’s judgment, if he really believed that in
Mrs. Carter he had a fine actress and also that he had a suitable new
play in which to present her. Belasco fervently extolled the ability of
Mrs. Carter, and read to him “The Heart of Maryland.” Hooley was
favorably impressed and agreed to produce the play, presenting Mrs.
Carter in the central part, provided that Belasco would agree to give
him an option on all plays which he might thereafter write. The
influences which, later, crystallized in the Theatrical Syndicate, were
already beginning to make themselves felt in the theatrical world, and
Hooley, like many other managers, perceived a danger and was wary of
it. “I purpose to produce my own ’attractions,’” he informed Belasco,
“and let the Eastern producers go hang!”
Hooley offered fair terms, the agreement for the presentment of Mrs.
Carter as a “star” in “The Heart of Maryland” was formally made, and
thus cheered and encouraged Belasco returned to New York, to prepare his
play for production and engage a company to act in it. “As I was
leaving,” he said, “Hooley delighted me by asking me to send him a large
framed portrait of Mrs. Carter, to hang in the lobby of his theatre.” In
New York Belasco read his play to Maurice Barrymore (1848-1905) and E.
J. Henley (1862-1898) and engaged them for the company, and he was
engaging other members thereof when Hooley suddenly died,--September 10,
1893. Mr. Powers was placed in charge of the theatre which had been
Hooley’s, and, as he promptly notified Belasco, made a long-term
contract with Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger to furnish him with “attractions”
for that house, and repudiated the engagement which Hooley had made: “I
was politely kicked out,” said Belasco, “and that was the end of _that_!
It was too late in the year to make new arrangements for that season
about ’Maryland,’ and, besides, I didn’t know exactly what to do or
which way to turn. If ’The Younger Son,’--which came next and on which
I worked hard,--had proved successful, things might have turned out
differently; but that fizzled, and afterward I seemed to be just as far
as ever from being able to strike out for myself.”
“THE YOUNGER SON.”
The Empire closed for the season with the final performance there of
“The Girl I Left Behind Me,” and reopened on August 21, with a
performance of “Liberty Hall,” which ran till October 23. Meantime,
Belasco, having heard of the success of a German play entitled “Schlimme
Saat” (“Evil Seeds”), had bought the American rights and, on receiving
the manuscript,--knowing that Frohman’s establishment at the Empire
Theatre was not yet entirely secure, and being wishful still further to
help him,--had immediately laid aside “The Heart of Maryland” and
addressed himself to making an English version of the German drama.
“They proved evil, even fatal, seeds to _me_,” he said. “I know now that
six months’ time would have been little enough for so great a work, but
I made a version of it in four weeks, working night and day. When it was
completed, I took the play to ’C. F.’ and in response to his suggestion,
called it ’The Younger Son.’” Why Belasco should have deemed this
German play a “great work” I do not understand. It is, in fact, a
tediously prolix and sometimes morbid story dealing with the history of
two brothers, the elder a selfish, heartless profligate, the younger an
ambitious artist, both the idols of a foolishly fond mother. The artist
is delighted by the news that his favorite picture (a work of no special
merit) has been bought by a rich picture fancier, who is willing to send
him to Italy to study. This apparent benevolence is, in fact, a plot to
get him out of the way and rob him of the girl he loves, who has agreed
to sell herself in order to get for him this opportunity to study
abroad. In Belasco’s English version all the hydrostatic pressure that
the story could possibly be made to carry had been added, but, as the
performance of “Evil Seeds” was a complete failure, it would be
superfluous to dwell upon it. The play was produced at the Empire on
October 24 and withdrawn on October 27, after four performances. It has
never been revived. For the purpose of record the cast is appended:
_Paul Kirkland_ Henry Miller.
_John Kirkland_ James E. Wilson.
_Simeon Brewster_ William Faversham.
_Clarkson MacVeigh_ W. H. Thompson.
_Peter Bogart_ W. H. Crompton.
_Dick Major_ Cyril Scott.
_Nell Armitage_ Viola Allen.
_Mrs. Kirkland_ Mrs. D. P. Bowers.
_Margaret_ Odette Tyler.
_Dolly Chester_ Edna Wallace Hopper.
_Agnes_ Edith Marion.
_Tommy_ Master John McKeever.
_Bess_ Little Percita West.
Writing about this dismal failure, Belasco says:
“I had no doubt about the merits of the First and Second acts, but
the Third Act needed slow and careful work in the writing. The fate
of the piece depended upon one situation in this Act,--a period of
about two minutes. With this situation made convincing, the play’s
success was assured. On the opening night, everything went well up
to this point. ‘“C. F.,” I whispered, ’if we pass this crisis we
are safe.’ But it was not long before I whispered disconsolately,
‘“C. F.,” we have failed.’ And not waiting for the supper party I
slipped away in the darkness and walked the streets all night.”
The next day Belasco earnestly advised Frohman to withdraw the play at
once, and, after brief hesitation, this was done--“Liberty Hall” being
revived at the Empire, and Belasco, presently, turning again to work on
“The Heart of Maryland.”
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
BELASCO, ABOUT 1893]
FIGHTING FOR A CHANCE.
There are, I believe, few instances in theatrical history of a more
protracted experience of the “hope deferred” which “maketh the heart
sick” than befell Belasco with this fine melodrama. The subject, and,
roughly, the story, of that play were in his mind when first he
undertook the training and direction of Mrs. Leslie Carter (1889): again
and again he endeavored to have his play brought on the stage,--but it
was not produced till more than six years after he had resolved to use
it as a vehicle for that actress, and within that period he altered and
reshaped it at least four times. After the death of Hooley and the
failure of “The Younger Son” he was for some time dejected and inert.
Then, reviewing the manuscript of his “Maryland,” he imbibed belief that
the play lacked sufficient verisimilitude to Southern life. “What I
needed most,” he said, “was atmosphere; so I decided to visit a Southern
town and meet some typical Southern families. Mrs. Carter, her mother,
and I went to Oakland, Maryland [1894?], where I added the finishing
touches to the play. When we reached a certain point I bade my
associates good-by and boarded a train for New York, to make another
attempt to find a manager.” Speaking of the experience immediately
preceding the actual accomplishment of his long obstructed purpose,
Belasco told me: “It has always seemed very strange that I should have
been rebuffed on almost every side with that play. If there did not
exist a strong opposition to my getting an independent foothold as a
manager, _why_ was my play of ’Maryland’ refused, over and over again?
Look at the list of successes which I had brought out, _for others_, in
the preceding ten years, including ’La Belle Russe,’ ’May Blossom,’ ’The
Highest Bidder,’ ’The Wife,’ ’Lord Chumley,’ ’The Charity Ball,’ ’Men
and Women,’ and ’The Girl I Left Behind Me.’ Good, bad, or
indifferent--whatever anybody thinks about them--there is no room for
argument as to the _business_ proposition. Those were _all_ great big
popular successes--_money-getters_. Why, when I was more than usually
hard-up, I had been able, often, to get money in advance on my royalties
on plays that had not even been begun. Yet, with a finished play, a
_good_ one, one I’d worked on for years, that I _knew_ was good and that
anybody could see was good; with an actress for whom the leading part
had been made as carefully as though it were a dress for her to wear, I
could not get a hearing. I think pretty nearly every producing manager
in New York refused that play. Why? I never _knew_--and I don’t _know_
now: yet I believed then and I believe now that, underlying all my
difficulty, was far more than any antagonism to Mrs. Carter; that the
men whom afterward I fought for so many years were glad enough to have
me work _for them_ as a stage manager and stock playwright, but that
they were _not_ willing I should get established as an independent
manager.”
This view of Belasco’s position has been stated before, and I have heard
it ridiculed. In my judgment the record of facts fully supports it. It
cannot be proved, but “if imputation and strong circumstances, which
lead directly to the door of truth, will give you satisfaction, you may
have’t.” There is the record--and readers must decide for themselves.
Writing of his dark days in 1894, Belasco has declared:
“My private possessions, my library (containing some very valuable
historical books),--my few antiques,--everything--had been sold. As
a last economy, I decided to give up my little office at Carnegie
Hall. ’This breaks the camel’s back! This _is_ the last straw!’
Mrs. Carter said. ’Mr. David, I’m in the way. They want your
manuscript, but the fact of the matter is, they won’t have me.
You’ve kept your promise and done all you could, but you can’t do
any more; let some one else have my part.’ It was a case of the
blind leading the blind, but I refused to give up.
“I left her and walked down Broadway, where I came face to face
with Paul Potter. ’Dave,’ he exclaimed, ’I was looking for you. A.
M. Palmer has been very unfortunate of late and needs a play. Read
“The Heart of Maryland” to him.’
“In less than an hour Paul Potter and I were on our way to
Stamford. At last my luck had turned! Palmer accepted my play.”
Negotiations with Palmer,--who at the time of Belasco’s withdrawal from
the Lyceum Theatre had been sympathetic with him, had placed the stages
of two theatres at his disposal for rehearsal of Mrs. Carter, and had
even then shown some interest in the projected play,--were brought to a
satisfactory issue, and, in August, 1894, a contract was formally made
whereby Palmer agreed to produce “The Heart of Maryland,” “with his own
stock company, known as ’A. M. Palmer’s Stock Company,’ at Palmer’s
Theatre, in the City of New York, not later than January 1, 1895,” and
also agreed that whether in New York or elsewhere Mrs. Carter should be
employed “to play the part entitled _Maryland Calvert_.” Active
preparations to produce “The Heart of Maryland” immediately were begun;
scenery was designed, built and painted, involving an investment of more
than $3,500; but Palmer was heavily involved, financially, and the
rehearsals, which Belasco was eager to begin, were postponed from week
to week. At last the date limit specified in the agreement passed, yet
Belasco continued to hope and to expect that Palmer would fulfil his
agreement. One day, however, happening to meet Charles Frohman, that
manager told him: “I am very sorry for you, but Palmer won’t be able to
produce ’The Heart of Maryland.’” Belasco at once went to Palmer and
asked him to state his purpose,--“Because,” he said, “I mean that play
_shall_ be produced! If you can’t do it--somebody else _can_.” Palmer,
foreseeing the success of the play, wished to hold it; if Belasco could
have been given any reasonable assurance that, eventually, the elder
manager would be able to bring it out, he would have been glad to wait;
but, after some hesitation, Palmer admitted that he could not set any
definite time, manifesting, at first, a disposition to prevent Belasco
from placing his drama elsewhere. Realizing, however, that the passage
of the date-limit within which he had agreed to produce the play had, in
fact, released Belasco from his contract with him, he finally
acquiesced, asking the latter to take and pay for the scenery which had
been made for it. This Belasco promised should be done, as soon as the
play was produced.
Once more opportunity had seemed to be within his grasp: once more it
eluded him: yet he persevered and resolutely resumed his quest of a
producer. Writing of the manner in which, at last, some months after the
collapse of the arrangement with Palmer, he found one, Belasco has
recorded incidents of his search and the process of his ultimate
success:
“One day I met Mr. Henry Butler in New York. He suggested that we
interest wealthy men and form a stock company. ’But let’s try
another plan first,’ he said. At this time three enterprising young
men were the lessees of the Herald Square Theatre. They were
’Charlie’ Evans, who made a fortune with Hoyt’s ’A Parlor Match,’
F. C. Whitney, and Max Blieman, a picture dealer. They opened the
house with a musical comedy, but wanted to produce a ’straight’
drama. ’I’ll go down and see them myself,’ Butler volunteered, ’and
you wait here for me.’ He brought back good news. ’They have
confidence in you,’ was the cheerful message, ’and they are willing
to “gamble.”’
“Blieman called on Palmer and paid cash for the scenery made at the
time Palmer intended to produce the play. The play was to be the
opening attraction at the Herald Square, under joint management.
“But early in the summer Blieman sent for me. ’Whitney has “cold
feet”,’ he remarked, ’and has dropped out.’ ’There are still two of
you left,’ I answered. Several weeks after this Blieman sent for me
again and this time he was in despair. ’Charlie’s dropped out now,’
he said; ’but by---- I believe in the play and I’ll stick....’
“The opening took place in Washington; and as I could not get into
the theatre before Sunday we were not ready to open until the
middle of the week. We practically lived in the theatre. We made a
great sensation on the opening night, but Washington,
unfortunately, was in the grip of a financial panic, and the houses
in consequence were very poor,--so poor, indeed, that Blieman’s
pocket was empty. He was obliged to confess that he had not enough
money left to send the company back to New York. So here we
were,--stranded, billed to open in New York on Monday night and no
money to get there.
“Blieman summoned courage and made a hasty trip to New York to try
to raise some money, and when I saw him in the evening he was all
smiles. ’What do you think,’ he confided to me, ’I’ve just borrowed
fifteen hundred dollars from “Al” Hayman on a picture worth thirty
thousand.’ Here was a boy after my own heart! The fifteen hundred
dollars enabled us to return to New York, and at last the poor old
storm-tossed ’Heart of Maryland’ had its metropolitan opening--on
the strength of a pawned painting!”
“The Heart of Maryland” was acted for the first time anywhere at the
Grand Opera House, Washington, D. C., October 9, 1895; and the first
performance of it in New York occurred on October 22, that year, at the
Herald Square Theatre. It is a meritorious and highly effective
melodrama, and its New York production marks a vital point in the career
of its indefatigible and brilliantly accomplished author. When the
curtain rose on its first performance in the metropolis he had been for
nearly a quarter of a century toiling in the Theatre, working in every
capacity connected with the Stage; he had written and produced, for
others, plays which had received thousands of representations and to see
which several millions of dollars had been paid: yet he was,--through no
fault of his, no improvidence, dissipation, reckless neglect or abuse of
talent,--still a struggling author, without recognized position, without
place or influence in the field of theatrical management, and so poor
that, if the venture failed, he had no better prospect than renewed
drudgery in a subservient place, working for the profit and
aggrandizement of men vastly inferior to himself in every way. Perhaps
the best explanation of and commentary on this fact were supplied,
several years later, when, testifying in court during trial of a lawsuit
of his against the late Joseph Brooks, he said of himself:
“I have long been connected with the theatrical business and know
its customs, but I know more about the stage part of it than I do
about the business side. I have been a manager for twenty-five
years, and have always managed to get the worst of my business
affairs.”
STORY AND PRODUCTION OF “THE HEART OF MARYLAND.”--ITS GREAT SUCCESS.
“The Heart of Maryland” belongs to the class of _post-bellum_ plays
represented in the years immediately
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
MRS. LESLIE CARTER, ABOUT 1895]
following the close of the American civil conflict by Boucicault’s
“Belle Lemar” (which was first acted at Booth’s Theatre August 10,
1874), and, more recently, by Howard’s “Shenandoah” and Gillette’s “Held
by the Enemy,”--being much superior to both the latter dramas. The scene
of that play is in and near an old Colonial homestead, called “The
Lilacs,” inhabited by the _Calvert_ family, at Boonsboro, Maryland, in
the Spring of 1863. It is comprised in four acts and six scenes,
requiring five sets of scenery for their display. Its action passes
within about thirty-six hours and implicates about thirty persons, of
whom five are important,--namely _General Hugh Kendrick_, _Colonel Alan
Kendrick_, his son, _Colonel Fulton Thorpe_, _Lloyd Calvert_, and
_Maryland Calvert_. _Maryland_ and _Alan Kendrick_ are lovers and have
been betrothed, but she is passionately devoted to the Southern cause,
while he ardently supports that of the North,--holding rank as a colonel
in the Federal Army,--and their political difference has divided them,
though without lessening their love. In the First Act _Alan_, who has
been captured by the Rebels and imprisoned at Dansville, is exchanged
and, in passing through Boonsboro on the way to the Union lines, he
meets both his sweetheart, _Maryland_, and _Colonel Thorpe_. _Thorpe_, a
Northern spy and a double traitor, whom _Alan_ has publicly flogged for
blackguardly conduct and then caused to be drummed out of his regiment,
holds rank as a colonel in the Rebel Army. In revenge for the
humiliation to which he has been subjected _Thorpe_ expedites the
transport of _Alan_ and other exchanged Federal prisoners, so that they
shall be conveyed immediately to Charlesville,--his purpose being thus
to cause their death along with that of the entire garrison at that
place, which _General Kendrick_, in command of an overwhelming
Confederate army, purposes to surprise by night and utterly to destroy.
_Lloyd Calvert_, unknown to his family, is a Northern spy. He has
learned of _General Kendrick’s_ plan and seeks to warn the Federal
forces at Charlesville. Unable to do so, he informs _Maryland_ of the
projected assault and she, to save her lover, communicates knowledge of
the impending danger to him, thus causing the failure of the surprise
attack.
In the Second Act _Alan_,--supposing that the Confederate Army has moved
away--rashly returns to Boonsboro, desiring to effect reconciliation
with his sweetheart. _Lloyd_, trying to bring about a meeting between
the lovers, speaks, ambiguously, to _Maryland_ about “a Northern friend”
whom he wishes her to meet for him and “detain.” Later, while trying to
make his way to the Union lines with important information, _Lloyd_ is
shot and, dying, is detected as a spy: _Alan_ is, meantime, recaptured,
wearing the hat and overcoat of a Confederate officer, and _Maryland_,
unaware of his identity and thinking to clear her brother’s reputation
as a loyal Southerner, denounces the prisoner to _General Kendrick_ as
the real spy. _Alan_, by order of his father, is then tried by
court-martial and condemned to death.
In the Third Act _Maryland_ makes her way into the Union lines and
obtains from _General Hooker_, there commanding, a letter to _General
Kendrick_ certifying that the presence of his son, _Colonel Kendrick_,
within the Confederate lines, was due to a personal, not a military,
motive,--in short, that _Alan_ is not a spy. Returning with this letter
to her home, which has become Confederate Headquarters, _Maryland_ finds
that _General Kendrick_ has been killed in action and that _Colonel
Thorpe_ is in command. _Thorpe_, whom she visits in his quarters in the
old church of Boonsboro,--part of which is also used for confinement of
military prisoners,--and to whom she appeals for mercy, perceiving that
_Hooker’s_ letter, if it should reach any Confederate officer other than
himself, would imperil his own life, not only refuses a reprieve for
_Alan Kendrick_ but orders that execution of the death sentence be
hastened. Then, half drunken and wholly bestial, he insults the
unfortunate _Alan_, who, pinioned and helpless, is on his way to the
gallows and, in his presence, threatens his sweetheart with outrage.
_Maryland_, in desperation, defending herself, stabs _Thorpe_ with a
bayonet (a weapon ingeniously introduced for this purpose among the
articles accessory to the stage setting, being thrust into a table-top
and used as a candlestick), wounding and disabling him. She then
liberates _Alan_, who makes his escape. _Thorpe_, rallying, orders the
church-bell rung, a prearranged signal warning all sentries that a
prisoner has broken jail; but _Maryland_, making her way to the belfry,
seizes the clapper of the great bell and, thus enacting the devoted
expedient of _Bessie_, in “Curfew Must Not Ring To-night,” prevents the
alarm and enables her lover to make good his escape.
In the Fourth Act _Thorpe’s_ double duplicity has been discovered in the
Rebel capital and he is ordered under arrest by _General Lee_; the
Confederate troops, defeated in a general engagement, are forced to
evacuate Boonsboro, and the play ends with a prospective reconciliation
of the lovers.
“The Heart of Maryland,” though somewhat intricate in its story (only
the main thread of which has been followed in the above recital), is
compact in construction, fluent and cumulative in dramatic movement and
interest, written with profound sincerity and contains passages of
tender feeling and afflicting pathos. The “Curfew” expedient, if, in
cool retrospect, it seems a little artificial, is, in representation, a
thrillingly effective climax to an affecting portrayal of distress and
danger. The first picture, exhibiting the ancestral home of the
_Calvert_ family, an old Colonial mansion, deep-bowered among ancient,
blooming lilac bushes and bathed in the fading glow of late afternoon
and sunset light, was one of truly memorable loveliness. Indeed, the
scenery investment, throughout, was of exceptional beauty and dramatic
appropriateness, and the manifold accessories of military environment,
with all “the proud control of fierce and bloody war,”--the suggested
presence and movement of large bodies of infantry and cavalry; the
denoted passage of heavy artillery; the stirring sounds of martial music
and of desperate battle; the red glare and dun smoke-pall of
conflagration, and the various employment and manipulation of light and
darkness to illustrate and intensify the dramatic theme,--were
extraordinarily deft in devisement and felicitous in effect. Belasco was
also peculiarly fortunate in selection of the actors who performed the
principal parts in his play. The handsome person and picturesque,
romantic mien of Maurice Barrymore, who appeared as _Alan Kendrick_,
were perfectly consonant with that character; John E. Kellerd gave an
impersonation of remarkable artistic merit--true to life and true to the
part--as the despicable yet formidable scoundrel _Thorpe_, and Mrs.
Carter, profiting richly by the zealous schooling of her mentor,
embodied _Maryland Calvert_ at first in a mood of piquant playfulness,
veiling serious feeling, then with genuine, wild and intense passion.
This was the cast in full of the performance at the Herald Square
Theatre:
_General Hugh Kendrick_ Frank Mordaunt.
_Colonel Alan Kendrick_ Maurice Barrymore.
_Colonel Fulton Thorpe_ John E. Kellerd.
_Lieutenant Robert Telfair_ Cyril Scott.
_Provost Sergeant Blount_ Odell Williams.
_Tom Boone_ Henry Weaver, Jr.
_Lloyd Calvert_ Edward J. Morgan.
_The Sexton_ John W. Jennings.
_Uncle Dan’l_ Scott Cooper
_Captain Leighton_ A. Pearson.
_Captain Blair_ A. C. Mora.
_Lieutenant Hayne_ W. H. Foy.
{ Frank Stanwick.
_Aides-de-Camp to General Kendrick_ { Robert McIntyre.
{ William Johnson.
_Corporal Day_ Edwin Meyer.
_Corporal_ H. E. Bostwick.
_Bludsoe_ Edwin F. Mayo.
_Little True Blue_ “Johnny” McKeever.
_O’Hara_ J. H. Hazelton.
_Ruggles_ Thomas Matlock.
_Forbes_ Joseph Maxwell.
_Phil_ Joseph A. Webber.
_Sentry_ E. J. Boyce.
_Scout_ C. H. Robertson.
_Mrs. Clairborne Gordon_ Helen Tracy.
_Maryland Calvert_ Mrs. Leslie Carter.
_Phœbe Yancey_ Georgie Busby.
_Nanny McNair_ Angela McCall.
Popular approval of the representation was immediate and bounteous and
there was little critical cavilling in the press. On the first night in
New York, after the Third Act, the audience many times called the entire
company before the curtain and, at last, Belasco, in an obviously
painful state of nervous excitement, responding to vociferous demands,
made a brief and grateful speech, in the course of which he said:
“It is very difficult for me to speak, to thank you. Your kind and
generous approval to-night means so very, very much to Mrs. Carter
and all the splendid company that has worked so loyally for the
success of this play. It means more to me than any words of mine
can say. This production to-night is the culmination of twenty-five
years of work; of hard, hard work and often bitter disappointment.
I have been a supernumerary, a call boy, an actor, a stage manager
for others, an adapter of plays: now I am encouraged to hope I have
proved myself a dramatist.... It is many long years since I first
dreamed of an independent success in New York--a success I might
keep in my own hands. If this is at last the turning of the tide
that leads on to fortune, I shall never forget my debt to you: I
shall strive, as long as I live, to give you, to give the people of
this great and wonderful city, not only the best there is in me but
the very best the Theatre can give. Thank you from my heart! I
thank you--I thank you!”
It was, indeed, “the turning of the tide.” “The Heart of Maryland” was
played at the Herald Square Theatre for 229 consecutive performances,
and it occupied a large part of Belasco’s time and attention during the
period of about two years which followed its New York production.
The season ended at the Herald Square on May 16, 1896. From about that
date until June 23 Mrs. Carter and Belasco underwent the painful ordeal
incident to trial of his lawsuit against N. K. Fairbank,--which, as
already recorded, terminated on the latter date with a verdict in favor
of the manager. In the course of the next six weeks Belasco made a
revision of Clay M. Greene’s “Under the Polar Star,” which was produced
by William A. Brady, August 20, at the New York Academy of Music. On
October 5, at the Broad Street, Philadelphia, the first tour of “The
Heart of Maryland” was begun, under the personal direction of its
author. That tour was everywhere amply successful and it
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
MRS. LESLIE CARTER AS _MARYLAND CALVERT_, IN “THE HEART OF MARYLAND”.]
lasted without special incident,--except that toward its close Belasco
purchased (April, 1897) the interest of Mr. Max Bleiman in the
production,--until the following May 1. The season was ended on that
date at the Grand Opera House, New York, and Belasco soon afterward
visited San Francisco. The third season of “The Heart of Maryland” began
at the scene of so much of his early experience, the Baldwin Theatre, in
that city, August 17, and continued in unabated prosperity for about
seven months.
“THE FIRST BORN.”--A SUCCESS AND A FAILURE.
While Belasco was in San Francisco he witnessed several performances of
a play called “The First Born,” written by Francis Powers, which had
been produced, May 10, under the management of his brother, Frederick
Belasco, at the Alcazar Theatre, and he was so favorably impressed with
its merits that he arranged to present that drama,--which ran for ten
weeks in San Francisco,--in New York, in association with Charles
Frohman. That arrangement was successfully consummated, at the Manhattan
(previously the Standard) Theatre, October 5, 1897. “The First Born” is
a tragic sketch of character and life in the Chinese quarter of old San
Francisco,--a region with which the acquaintance of Belasco was
peculiarly intimate and exact and one of which the mingled squalor and
romance had always strongly attracted him. The posture of circumstances
and experience depicted in that play is simple and direct. _Man Low
Yek_, a rich Chinese merchant, has stolen _Chan Lee_, the wife of _Chan
Wang_, also a Chinese and a dweller in the Chinatown. That ravagement
_Wang_ has borne with equanimity; but when _Chan Lee_, returning to San
Francisco with her paramour, entices _Chan Toy_, their first born and
only son, from him and in her endeavor to steal the child accidentally
causes his death, the unfortunate _Wang_ becomes at first an image of
agonized paternal love and then an embodiment of implacable vengeance.
The play is in two acts. In the first, Chinatown is shown in the bright
light and bustle of a busy noonday and against that setting is displayed
the sudden bereavement and afflicting anguish of the father. In the
second, an alley-end in the same district is shown, with a glimpse of
contiguous gambling hells and opium dens, under the darkening shadows of
evening. There the inexorable avenger lounges, leaning against a door
post,--apparently an idler smoking his evening pipe and talking with a
Chinese girl, who leans from a window; in fact, vigilantly observant of
_Man Low Yek_, visible within a shop, and intent on slaying him. The
alley grows dark and becomes deserted. The neighboring houses are
illumined. The chink of money and the bickering chatter of unseen
gamblers are heard. A police officer saunters by and disappears. _Man
Low Yek_ comes forth from his shop, closing it after him. Then,
suddenly, as he passes, _Wang_, with fearful celerity, leaps upon him
wielding a hatchet, strikes him down, drags the dead body into
convenient concealment, and is back again at his former loitering place,
outwardly placid, before the fire in his pipe has had time to become
extinguished.
Belasco’s presentment of this play in New York was a gem of histrionic
illustration,--the grouping and movement of the players and the many
super-numeraries, the employment of light and sound, every expedient
alike of action and repose, every detail of dress, every accessory of
scenic embellishment, all were so adroitly used and blended as to create
an impression of perfect verisimilitude, and the spectator seemed to
behold two veritable segments of Chinatown life. The acting, especially
that of Mr. Powers as _Chan Wang_ and of May Buckley as _Loey Tsing_, a
Chinese girl who loves him, was exceptionally earnest and effective.
This was the cast:
_Loey Tsing_ May Buckley.
_Chow Pow_ Ellen Cummins.
_Chan Lee_ Carrie E. Powers.
_Dr. Pow Len_ George Osborne.
_Man Low Yek_ Charles Bryant.
_Chan Wang_ Francis Powers.
_Hop Kee_ J. H. Benrimo.
_Chum Woe_ Harry Spear.
_Kwakee_ John Armstrong.
_Duck Low_ George Fullerton.
_Sum Chow_ Harry Levain.
_A Chinese Ragpicker_ Walter Belasco.
_A Provision Dealer_ Fong Get.
_Chan Toy_ Venie Wells.
_Way Get_ Joseph Silverstone.
{ Ysobel Haskins.
_Tourists_ { Florence Haverleigh.
{ L. I. Fuller.
{ Hugo Toland.
“The First Born” was acted at the Manhattan Theatre in association with
“A Night Session,” a farce derived from the French: later, other farces
were performed with the Chinatown tragedy. Its success was decisive and
it was acted in New York until December 11;--at the Manhattan from
October 5 to November 6, and at the Garden Theatre (in association with
an English version, by Benjamin F. Roeder, of “L’Été de St. Martin,” by
Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy) from November 29 onward. Belasco and
Frohman, elated by their American victory with this play, were eager to
repeat it in London. A second company was, accordingly, at once engaged,
rehearsed, and brought forward at the Manhattan,--the original company
sailing for England October 23, and emerging at the Duke of York’s
Theatre, London, November 6. The enterprising manager William A. Brady
had, however, hastened to the British capital before them with another
and similar play, called “The Cat and the Cherub,” which he presented at
the Lyric Theatre, October 30, thus fore-stalling “The First Born” and
causing its flat failure in London. It was withdrawn after one week,
Belasco and Frohman losing about $20,000 on their undertaking.
BELASCO’S SECOND ENGLISH VENTURE.--“THE HEART OF MARYLAND” IN LONDON.
During the dramatic season of 1897-’98 Belasco and Charles Frohman
arranged with the Messrs. Gatti, managers of the Adelphi Theatre,
London, for the production of “The Heart of Maryland” in the British
capital. The expenses of presenting that play were large, but so, also,
was public attendance on its performance, the average gross receipts
amounting to about $11,000 a week: that is, in three seasons the public
had paid a total of about one million and fifty thousand dollars to see
it. Belasco’s share of the profits had set him well forward in the path
of prosperity and he was at last able to formulate definite plans for
ventures which finally enabled him to seize a conspicuous, independent,
and influential place among the foremost theatrical managers of the
world. His expedition into England with Mrs. Carter and “The Heart of
Maryland” was one of the first of those ventures. The utility of his
play as a starring vehicle for that actress in America was practically
exhausted, but he felt strongly assured of further prosperity with it
abroad. Moreover, he knew that Mrs. Carter would be, by an English
success, exalted in the esteem of the American public--which is in some
respects provincial and is always impressed by foreign approval. And,
finally, he hoped that, while in London, he would be able to obtain a
suitable new play for her use. The third season of “The Heart of
Maryland,” accordingly, was closed at Hartford, Conn., March 26, 1898;
on March 30 Mrs. Carter, the other members of the theatrical company
which had been acting in it, and Belasco sailed for England on board the
steamship St. Paul, and on April 8 that play was performed at the
Adelphi Theatre, London. It was, originally, “booked” for a season of
one month, but it was received with such abundant popular favor that it
was acted there, to crowded houses, for twelve weeks,--receiving about
eighty performances. There was some adversity of critical comment in the
press, but only one stricture then made disturbed Belasco’s equanimity
and has rankled in his recollection,--namely, the unwarranted and mean
intimation that he had copied the stirring “mechanical effects” (so
called) used in course of the performance of his play from William
Gillette’s “Secret Service,” which had been brought out in London, May
15, 1897, at the Adelphi. Such gratuitous disparagement is
characteristic of a patronizing and carping spirit frequently
encountered in British journalism. Inquiry as to the facts in this case
at once displays its injustice. Belasco’s “The Heart of Maryland” was
begun in 1890, and the “mechanical effects” employed in it were devised
by its author during the four years that followed; they were,
furthermore, an elaboration and improvement of various contrivances
first used by him in his variant of “Not Guilty,”--San Francisco,
December 24, 1878,--and some of them were used by him in “The Girl I
Left Behind Me,”--January, 1893. Gillette’s “Secret Service” was tried
at the Broad Street Theatre, Philadelphia, May 13, 1895, where it
failed and was at once withdrawn. After having been entirely rewritten
that play was successfully produced at the Garrick Theatre, New York,
October 5, 1896,--one year later than “The Heart of Maryland.” “Secret
Service,” though a useful melodrama, is a hodge-podge fabrication (one
of its most essential situations is conveyed, bodily, from “Don Cæsar de
Bazan”) and is in every way inferior to “The Heart of Maryland”: if the
production of either of those plays owed anything to that of the other,
it is manifest that Belasco’s could not have been the debtor.
Belasco’s quest for a new drama for the use of Mrs. Carter seemed
destined to be a barren one, when, as the London career of “The Heart of
Maryland” was drawing toward its close, he chanced to read, in a
theatrical newspaper, an outline of the plot of a French play named
“Zaza,” which had been produced, May 12, 1898, at the Vaudeville
Theatre, Paris, and which he thought might be adapted to the use of his
star. On mentioning the play to Charles Frohman and inquiring whether he
knew anything about it Frohman informed him that he did not believe it
would prosper in America and that, therefore, he had permitted an option
on the American right of producing it to lapse. Belasco, nevertheless,
visited Paris, witnessed a performance of “Zaza,” as acted by Mme.
Gabrielle Réjane and her associates at the Vaudeville, and was so
impressed by it that he immediately cabled Frohman, urging him to
purchase the American rights of production,--which Frohman forthwith
did. On June 25 the London season of “The Heart of Maryland” ended, and
on September 1, on the steamship Majestic, Mrs. Carter, the “Maryland”
company, and Belasco sailed for home,--the latter having entered into an
engagement with Charles Frohman whereby that influential speculator in
theatrical wares agreed to produce “Zaza” in partnership with him and to
“present Mrs. Leslie Carter, by arrangement with David Belasco.” Belasco
was much elated at having made that contract. Writing about it, he says:
“Patience and perseverance had won! At last I had not only a star and a
play, but a partner with money, unlimited credit, and vast influence. As
soon as I returned to New York I began preparations for the next season,
and then I went cheerfully into exile to adapt ’Zaza.’”
“ZAZA,” AND THE ETHICAL QUESTION.
Two plays have been produced by Belasco the presentment of which, in my
judgment,--although both of them were received with extravagant favor by
numerous writers in the press and were acted profitably and with much
manifest public approbation for a long time,--should be recorded as a
grievous blot on the fair record of his professional career. One of
those plays is this notorious drama of “Zaza,” adapted and altered by
Belasco from the French original by MM. Pierre Berton (1840-1912) and
Charles Simon (1850-1910); the other is the vulgar and repulsive drama
called “The Easiest Way,” concocted by an American journalist, Mr.
Eugene Walter, containing a long-drawn portrayal expositive of the
immoral character, unchaste conduct, and necessarily wretched
retributive experience, of a courtesan. Both of those plays reflect the
gross aspect of what Carlyle happily designated Demirepdom,--a domain of
licentiousness and bestiality which should never be treated in Drama or
illustrated on the Stage.
Opinion on this point is, I am aware, sharply divided. Shakespeare, we
are continually reminded, speaking for himself (most inappropriately, by
the way) in the character of _Hamlet_, and referring to “the purpose of
playing,” says that its “end both at the first and now was, and is, to
hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to _nature_; to show _virtue_, her own
feature, _scorn_ her own image, and the very age and body of the time
his form and pressure.”
What does that mean? Does it mean that everything existent in Nature is
material suitable to be presented on the Stage? Does it mean that there
should be no restriction as to the choice of subjects, from “the age and
body of the time,” to be illustrated in public, before a mixed audience
of both sexes and of all ages and conditions? No sound, convincing
exposition of that view of the subject has ever been made, and I cannot
accept it. Shakespeare, in his plays, has depicted “people of all
sorts,” and among others he has depicted several sorts of depraved
women, one of them, _Cressida_, being a natural, typical, representative
harlot. It is, however, to be observed that he has not dilated on her
career, has not expatiated on her licentiousness, has not enumerated her
intrigues, has not analyzed her libidinous propensities, has not tinged
his portrayal of her misconduct with any sophistical coloring, has not
entered for her any plea in extenuation; has simply drawn her as a type
of rank carnality and so dismissed her. Such persons have always
existed, they exist now, and they always will exist. That it is
necessary, right, or defensible that they should be exploited in the
Theatre I have never been able to perceive,--whether they be depicted by
Shakespeare or by anybody else. From “Jane Shore” and “The Stranger” to
“Denise” and “Camille,” nothing has ever come of the long, dreary,
speciously sophistical exhibition of sexual vice and consequent misery
but corruption of the moral sense, loose, flabby thinking, cant, and
maudlin sentimentality. No good has come of it to anybody, least of all
to the victims of their evil passions.
Altruism should prevail in the conduct of life, and with all fine
natures it does prevail. The instinctive desire, while not universal nor
perhaps general, is very considerable to help the weak, to shield the
innocent, to liberate the oppressed, to comfort the afflicted, to find
excuses for frailty, to take a charitable view of human infirmity; but
while lovely in itself and beneficent in some of its results, it is, in
vital particulars, ineffectual: it cannot eliminate depravity from a
nature that is innately wicked, and it cannot dispel remorse,--or even
mitigate that agony,--from a mind innately conscientious.
Belasco, by obtruding harlots on the stage,--as he has not scrupled to
do, in presenting to public observance _Zaza_ and _Laura
Murdoch_,--follows many precedents and impliedly approves the
exploitation of such persons,--unfortunate, pitiable, deplorable,
sometimes amiable and gentle, more frequently hard, fierce, treacherous,
and wicked. His published writings avow his views on this subject, and I
have found his private assurances concurrent with his published
writings. Those views do more credit to the kindness of his disposition
than to the clarity of his thought. From his youth onward he has been
deeply interested in aberrant women, studious of their aberrancy,
solicitous for their rescue and reformation, charitable toward them,
wishful to befriend them, and strenuous, when writing about them, to
place them in the best possible light. “Whenever I rehearse a situation
of passion, of crime, of wrongdoing” (so he writes), “I remember _the
heart_. _I make an excuse_--seek out the _motive_, to put the actor in
touch with the culprit’s _point of view_. The _excuse is always there_.”
No form of reasoning could be more sophistical, more delusive, more
mischievous. The _reason_ for sin, for crime, for wrongdoing, _is_
always there: but a broad distinction exists between the _reason_ and
the _excuse_. Some persons, naturally good, nevertheless do wrong,
commit crime, sin against themselves and against both moral law and
social order, because they cannot help it, because they are weak and
cannot resist temptation. Other persons commit crime knowingly,
deliberately, intentionally, because they wish to do so, because they
delight in doing so, and find their greatest possible gratification in
acts of wickedness. Selfishness and greed are, in a vast number of
cases, impervious to anything other than the operation of external
forces painful to themselves: there are persons who possess no moral
sense whatever. The notion that there is a substratum of goodness in
every human being is one of the most flagrant delusions that ever
entered the mind of sensible persons acquainted with the history of the
world and aware of what is passing around them every hour. “I remember
_the heart_” says Belasco: it would not be amiss to remember what was
long ago said of that interesting organ by one of the wise prophets of
his nation: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked.” It is in the highest degree creditable to Belasco as a man that
he possesses a tenderly compassionate, humane spirit and has always
practically acted on the impulse of it; neither wisdom nor justice is
discernible in the “moral teaching” that he has liberated by his
indiscriminate subservience to it in the instances I have named.
PRODUCTION, AND CONTENTS, OF “ZAZA.”
“Zaza” was first produced, December 25, 1898, at the Lafayette Opera
House (now, 1917, the Belasco Theatre), Washington, D. C. The first
presentment of it in New York occurred, January 9, 1899, at the Garrick
Theatre, where it was acted till June 17, receiving 164 performances.
“Zaza” is not so much a play as it is a series of loosely jointed,
sequent episodes. The story is simple and vulgar. _Zaza_ is a French
prostitute. She has passed from the streets to the stage of country
music halls and has become a singer. She is a common, shameless,
termagant wanton, possessed, however, of an animal allurement which
infatuates a man of respectable position and outwardly decent character.
His name is _Dufrène_. By him she is removed from a life of
miscellaneous degradation and,--“purified” by “love”!--she dwells with
him, in contentment, for six months,--remarking, as she pulls on her
stockings, “I do think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world when
two lovers come together.” At the end of that time she discovers that
her paramour is married, and that he maintains his wife and their child
in a respectable rural home and, at intervals, bestows upon them the
boon of his precious company. With the tigerish resentment often
characteristic of her class, she immediately repairs to that home,
intent to “revenge” herself upon _Dufrène’s_ wife by revealing the
husband’s infidelity. Her amiable purpose is diverted by an encounter
with his child, whose prattle so profoundly affects her supersensitive
“better feelings” that she quits the field, returns to her civic bower,
which has been provided by _Dufrène_, there provokes a violent quarrel
with that hypocritical libertine, so enrages him that he threatens to
strike her, and finally elicits from him the assurance that his wife is
much more precious to him than his harlot is. The separation of this
edifying couple ensues. Stimulated by this experience of “purification
by love,” _Zaza_ determines to achieve artistic greatness without
further delay, and this she incontinently does, becoming, within two
years,--“through much misery, much grief, much work, and a little luck,”
as she expresses it,--a great artist, wealthy and (general concomitant
of wealth!) respected, and, most delightful of all, a paragon of virtue,
gently dismissing her recalcitrant paramour, _Dufrène_ (who, unable to
forget the rapturous interlude of his amatory association with her, has
sought to renew it), in the peaceful seclusion of the Champs Elysees!
The play of “Zaza,” in the French original, is even more offensive than
in Belasco’s adaptation, but it possesses more unity as a dramatic
fabric and more authenticity as a portrayal of a revolting phase of
life. Belasco’s version is much the superior as a commercial and
theatrically useful vehicle. His purpose in adapting the play for the
English-speaking Stage is thus stated by himself: “I wanted my audience
to find some _excuse_ for _Zaza’s_ past and to have less pity for the
wife. When the play was produced in America and _Zaza sacrificed her own
feelings for the sake of a child_ the audience was so entirely in her
favor that she won the tears of New York and, later on [_sic_], of
London.” “The tears” of New York, London, or any other residential
locality are not difficult to “win” when an experienced hand at the
theatrical fount pumps hard enough for them. Freed of flummery, what
does this play signify? A woman essentially vile in nature, degraded by
a career of vice, gross in her conduct, vitiated in her principles and
feelings, is sentimentally affected by the babble of a child, and her
holy “sacrifice of her own feelings” consists in abstention from
wrecking the happiness of an innocent and injured woman who has never
done her any harm. As a matter of fact, such a drab as _Zaza_ would not
have denied herself that gratification for the sake of a whole regiment
of children,--but truth was not the goal desired: that object was
profitable effect. Such dramas as “Zaza” defile the public mind and
degrade the Stage, and it would be propitious for the community if they
could be played on from a fire hose and washed into the sewer where they
belong.
MRS. CARTER’S IMPERSONATION OF _ZAZA_.
Mrs. Carter’s performance of the patchouly-scented heroine of this
tainted trash was much admired and extravagantly commended. As a work of
dramatic art it was trivial: as a violent theatrical display of common
surface traits,--a demonstration, in “Ercles’ vein,” of ability to tear
a cat,--it was highly effective. The language of the gutter was spoken
in the tone and with the manner of the gutter. The method of the
execution was direct, broad, swift,--and coarse. The best technical
merit of it was clarity of utterance. In _Zaza’s_ scene with the child
Mrs. Carter was mechanical and monotonous. It was the utter, reckless
abandon, the uncontrolled physical and vocal vehemence, the virago-like
intensity of her abuse of her lover, which, communicating themselves to
the nerves of her auditors and overwhelming them by violence, gained the
actress her success in the part. If to “tear a passion to tatters, to
very rags,” to take up the carpet tacks
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
MRS. LESLIE CARTER AS _ZAZA_]
and demolish the furniture, be to act greatly, then Mrs. Carter’s _Zaza_
was a great piece of acting; not otherwise. Her popularity was
unequivocal, and it constituted a triumph for Belasco even more
remarkable than for her.
This was the original cast of “Zaza,” at the Garrick Theatre, New York,
January 9, 1899:
_Bernard Dufrène_ Charles A. Stevenson.
_Duc de Brissac_ Albert Bruning.
_Cascart_ Mark Smith (Jr.).
_Jacques Rigault_ Hugo Toland.
_Chamblay, Jr_ Gilmore Scott.
_Hector_ Lester Gruner.
_Blac_ Harold Howard.
_Brigard_ W. B. Murray.
_Mounet-Pombla_ Gerard Anderson.
_Joly_ Herbert Millward.
_Carvallo Bros._ (_acrobats_) Leona and Master Bimbi.
_Jabowski_ Walter Stuart.
_Adolphe_ Lawrence Reeves.
_Coachman_ Alfred Hollingsworth.
_Criquet_ Edgar Hart.
_Rosa Bonné_ Marie Bates.
_Madame Dufrène_ Mabel Howard.
_Divonne_ Lizzie DuRoy.
_Lizette_ Emma Chase.
_Toto_ Helen Thill.
_Florianne_ Anne Sutherland.
_Alice Morel_ Maude Winter.
_Lolotte_ Marie Thill.
_Juliette_ Eleanor Stuart.
_Niniche_ Elizabeth Belknap.
_Leonie_ Corah Adams.
_Clairette_ Helma Horneman.
_Adele_ Aurelia A. Granville.
_Flower Girl_ Louisa Burnham.
_Nathalie_ Helen Tracy.
_Zaza_ Mrs. Leslie Carter.
(Mem. When “Zaza” was revived, in 1905, a minor character called
_Lisvon_ was added: it was played by Amelia G. Granville.)
DEATH OF BELASCO’S MOTHER.--“CAN THE DEAD COME BACK?”--A STRANGE
EXPERIENCE.
The instant and immense popular success of “Zaza” was embittered for
Belasco by close association with a loss and sorrow that time has not
lightened,--the death of his beloved mother, which befell on January 11,
1899, at No. 174 Clara Street, San Francisco. During rehearsals of his
play and its presentments in Washington Belasco, so he has told me, “had
_felt_ that she was ill,” but had no thought that her condition was
critical. Writing about her death, he gives the following interesting
account of a strange experience:
“Ever since my boyhood I have been interested in the subject of
spiritualism. For many years I have asked myself the question:
’_Can_ the dead come back?’... One morning, after a late
rehearsal, I reached home at three o’clock, completely fagged out.
No sooner had I fallen asleep than I seemed to waken, and there
stood my mother beside my bed. ’Davie, Davie, Davie,’ she said
three times, smiled, and bending over kissed me good-bye. She said
other things--told me she was happy--not to grieve. I could not
stir, but kept my eyes fixed upon her as she moved towards the door
and disappeared. How long I lay staring into the darkness I do not
know, but at last I managed to collect myself, put on my
dressing-gown, and, still dazed, went downstairs to a little
sitting-room. My family heard me. ’What are you doing downstairs?’
my youngest child, Augusta, asked, and she tried to coax me back to
bed. I went to my room, but I could not sleep. When I told my
family of my vision, and that I believed my mother was dead, they
suggested that I was overwrought and tired and had seen my mother
in a dream.
“I went to rehearsal the next morning, and during an interval had
luncheon at Churchill’s--then a small coffeehouse--with a member of
the theatre staff. I sat there, much troubled, thinking of the
figure of my mother as she appeared in the dawn. My companion
noticed my silence, and, when I told him of my experience, tried to
reassure me. As we rose to go he handed me some letters and
telegrams he had found in the box-office. Among the telegrams was
one telling me the sad news of my mother’s death. Later I found
that she died at the exact time she appeared at my bedside. At the
very moment I saw her she was passing out of the world. Several
years after, when I paid a visit to San Francisco, my brothers and
sisters told me my mother smiled and murmured my name three times
before she died.... I do not know that the dead _do_ come back. I
_do_ know that at the time of passing the spirit sends a thought
through space, and this thought is so powerful that the receiver
can see the sender. This was proved by my dear mother. She came to
me no more, however.”
In speaking of his parents Belasco has deeply impressed me by the fervor
and sincerity of his filial affections. “My mother,” he has said, “was
the best loved woman in Victoria and in San Francisco,--and she was the
truest, best friend I ever had or shall have. She was called ’the Good
Angel’ of the poorer quarters. As she grew older, in the latter city,
when going about in streetcars, conductors would, when she wished to
leave, escort her to the sidewalk, or would bring her to the car, if she
wished to board it. When she died she had the greatest funeral a private
person ever had in San Francisco. My brother told me it seemed as though
every vehicle in town was in the line. She was very poetic, romantic,
and keenly imaginative and gentleness itself. Any good I have ever done
I owe to her.”--In a letter to a friend he writes thus about his mother:
“ ... I cannot tell you how close we were--how she seemed always to
understand me without words and often [seemed] to be near me when I
was in trouble and needed help. You know, I believe such feelings
are inspired by something real: ’the realities of the spirit are
more real than anything else.’... Very often we exchanged
messages just by sending flowers, and it was the same way with my
little ’Gussie.’... Flowers have always been a passion with me.
Ever since I was a little boy, in Vancouver, and my mother used to
come and find me dreaming among them on the hillside, I have loved
them all.... But the violets were always my favorites, as they were
hers. She always had them about her, from girlhood, and, indeed, my
father wooed her with them. There was a bunch of them beside her in
the little cellar-room where I was born (so she used to tell me),
and when they brought me to her on a pillow she took some in her
hand and sprinkled them over me. All my clothes, when I was a baby,
had a violet embroidered on them, somewhere. The last gift I ever
received from my mother was a black silk scarf, with violets
embroidered on it,--and long, long hours it must have taken her to
do it, for she could hardly hold a needle. Once, when I was a boy,
I took $20 from a secret little hoard of hers, to pay for an
operation on my throat which I didn’t want her to know about. Of
course she missed it but she never said a word, and when I had
saved up the money I just put it in a bunch of violets and left it
for her. And when at last she went away and I could not be there I
sent violets to cover her grave and say my ’Good-bye.’”
BLANCHE BATES AND “NAUGHTY ANTHONY.”
Much the most interesting person and much the ablest performer who has
appeared under the management of Belasco is Blanche Bates. At the zenith
of her career she exhibited a combination of brilliant beauty,
inspiriting animation and impetuous vigor quite extraordinary and
irresistibly winning. Her lovely dark eyes sparkled with glee. Her
handsome countenance radiated gladness. She seemed incarnate joy. Her
voice was clear, liquid, sweet; her enunciation distinct, her bearing
distinguished, her action free and graceful. I have seldom seen an
actress whose mere presence conveyed such a delightful sense of
abounding vitality and happiness. In the last ten years no actress in
our country has equalled her in brilliancy and power. She might have
grasped the supremacy of the American Stage, alike in Comedy and
Tragedy, personating such representative parts as Shakespeare’s
_Beatrice_ and _Cleopatra_ and taking by right the place once occupied
by Ada Rehan and afterward by Julia Marlowe. While under Belasco’s
management she did give three performances which deservedly are
remembered among the best of her time,--namely, _Cigarette_, in “Under
Two Flags”; _Yo-San_, in “The Darling of the Gods,” and _The Girl_, in
“The Girl of the Golden West.” But, although incontestably she possesses
intellectual character, a strain of capricious levity is also among her
attributes; she has weakly acquiesced to the dictates of vacuous social
taste and sordid commercial spirit, paltered with her great talents,
thrown away high ambition and golden opportunity, and so came at last
to mere failure and obscurity. Her nature and her artistic style require
for their full and free arousal and exercise parts of romantic,
passionate, picturesque character, admitting of large, bold, sparkling
treatment. She acted under Belasco’s direction for about twelve years:
since leaving it, in 1912, she has done nothing in the Theatre of
importance. “The modern, ’drawing-room drama’ in which she aspired to
play,”--so Belasco once remarked to me,--“is not, to my mind, suited to
her, and so we parted.”
Blanche Bates is a native of Portland, Oregon, born August 25, 1872; her
father was manager of the Oro Fino Theatre, Portland, at the time of her
birth. Her youth was passed in San Francisco, where she was well
educated. She went on the stage in 1894, appearing at Stockwell’s
Theatre (later called the Columbia), in that city, in a play called
“This Picture and That.” Her novitiate was served chiefly under the
management of T. Daniel Frawley. For several years she acted in cities
in the Far West, playing all sorts of parts. At one time, in California,
she was professionally associated with that fine comedian Frank Worthing
(Francis George Pentland, 1866-1910), who materially helped to develop
and train her histrionic talents. Belasco first became acquainted with
her while she was yet a child, at the time of his professional alliance
with her mother, Mrs. F. M. Bates. In 1896, during Mrs. Carter’s first
season in “The Heart of Maryland,” Blanche visited New York, witnessed
that performance, and applied to Belasco for employment. At the moment
it was not possible for him to engage her, but he was neither forgetful
of an old promise of his made to Mrs. Bates that he would assist her
daughter, if ever he should be able to do so, nor unmindful of the
beauty, talent, and charming personality of the applicant, and he
assured her that she “should have a chance” at the first opportunity.
That opportunity did not present itself for nearly three years.
Meanwhile, Miss Bates returned to California and acted there, for about
two years more, with the Frawley company. In the Spring of 1898 she was
engaged by Augustin Daly and for a short time she acted under his
management. On February 9, 1899, she made a single brilliantly
successful appearance, at Daly’s Theatre, as the _Countess Mirtza_, on
the occasion of the first presentment in this country of the popular
melodrama of “The Great Ruby.” She disagreed, however, with the
autocratic Daly and immediately retired from his company. On March 13,
1899, acting at the Broadway Theatre, New York, in association with
Belasco’s old friend and comrade
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.
BELASCO, ABOUT 1899-1900]
James O’Neill, she distinguished herself as _Milady_, in “The Three
Guardsmen,” and on October 19, that year, at the Herald Square Theatre,
she gave a notably fine performance,--splendidly effective in the
principal scene,--of _Hannah Jacobs_, in Israel Zangwill’s stage
synopsis of his novel of “The Children of the Ghetto.” A few weeks later
Belasco informed Miss Bates that if she were willing to begin in a farce
which he did not much esteem he was ready to undertake her management
preparatory to “giving her her chance.” “The Children of the Ghetto” had
proved a failure, and the actress joyfully accepted the manager’s
proposal.
Blanche Bates first acted under Belasco’s management, December 25, 1899,
at the Columbia Theatre, Washington, D. C., appearing as _Cora_, the
principal person in Belasco’s “Naughty Anthony”: on January 8, 1900, she
appeared in it at the Herald Square Theatre, New York. The title of that
farce is not altogether felicitous, because possibly suggestive of
impropriety, but there is nothing mischievous in the fabric itself. The
piece is incorporative of one scene, varied and rewritten, from an
unremembered farce of other days, and, with its freightage of old but
always effective stage subterfuges and comic “business,” it reminded
experienced observers of such plays, far and forgot now, as “Flies in
the Web,” “My Neighbor’s Wife,” “Playing with Fire,” “To Oblige Benson,”
etc. In it Belasco made use of one of the oldest theatrical expedients
for creating comic confusion and mirthful effect,--the expedient of a
mistaken identity. The chief male in it is _Anthony Depew_, a moral
professor of the Chautauqua brotherhood, who becomes enamoured of a
coquettish girl, in the hosiery business, and whose exploits in
osculation lead him into a troublesome dilemma, from which he endeavors
to escape by pretending to be somebody else. This kind of perplexity has
been common on the stage since the distant days of “The Three Singles;
or, Two and the Deuce.” Such themes do not require much comment. The
chief fact to be recorded in this case is the uncommon felicity of the
cast and the excellence of the stage direction. But such an actor as
Frank Worthing (who was essentially a light comedian, and, as such, the
most conspicuous local performer of the day, in his particular line) and
such an actress as Miss Bates were practically wasted in so ephemeral a
trifle. This was the cast in full:
_Cowley_ Albert Bruning.
_Adam Budd_ William J. LeMoyne.
_Zachary Chillinton_ William Elton.
_Jack Cheviot_ Charles Wyngate.
_Mr. Heusted_ Claude Gillingwater.
_Mr. Brigham_ E. P. Wilkes.
_Miss Rinkett_ Fanny Young.
_Cowley_ Albert Bruning.
_Knox_ Samuel Edwards.
_Ed_ Brandon Tynan.
_Mrs. Zachary Chillingham_ Maud Harrison.
_Rosy_ Mary Barker.
_Winnie_ Olive Redpath.
_Cora_ Blanche Bates.
Belasco’s serious purpose, in this play, underlying the quest of
laughter, was to satirize moral humbug, and that good purpose he
accomplished. _Anthony Depew_ is an amiable impostor, established at
Chautauqua, New York, to give lessons in moral conduct to persons who
deem themselves tempted to go astray. He goes astray himself, as far as
compromising osculation, and he causes all manner of disturbance, in
several households, by fixing the guilt of a kiss upon an innocent
booby, who is his landlord. Worthing embodied that humbug in an
admirable manner. His plan was definite, his execution firm and true,
his satire cumulative; and from first to last he never swerved from that
demeanor of perfect gravity which makes absurd proceedings irresistibly
amusing. Miss Bates, even more than usually beautiful as _Cora_, made
the tempter of _Anthony_ a compound of demure simplicity and arch,
piquant glee, and, in her complete frustration of the _Professor’s_
moral heroics, she was a delightful incarnation of honest, healthful,
triumphant woman nature. A colloquy of these two players, as preceptor
and pupil, has seldom been surpassed for pure fun. Specification of the
fantastic situations in which the _Professor_ involves himself and his
landlord, _Adam Budd_,--abundantly comical in the seemingly
unpremeditated humor, the soft, silky manner, and the grotesque
personality assumed by Le Moyne,--would be a tedious business. Good
acting, however, did not suffice to sustain the play in public favor.
Writing about this venture Belasco says:
“At the time I wrote ’Naughty Anthony’ the country was farce
mad,--but the public will not accept me as a farce writer, and it
was a failure. I believed, at the time, that had somebody else
produced my play it might have succeeded, and this actually proved
to be the case; for when I sold the piece and it was taken on the
road, with my name omitted from the programme, it made money,
although it had cost me a pretty penny. I soon saw that ’Naughty
Anthony’ must be withdrawn or something added to the bill in order
to keep it going.”
“MADAME BUTTERFLY.”
Some little while before the production of “Naughty Anthony” Belasco had
received from a stranger a letter in which he was urged to read a
story, called “Madame Butterfly,” by John Luther Long, with a view to
making it into a play. When anxiously casting about for some means of
providing required reinforcement for his farce he chanced to recollect
that suggestion, procured a copy of Long’s book containing his tragic
tale, read it and was so much impressed by the possibilities which he
perceived of basing on it a striking theatrical novelty that he entered
into communication with Long and arranged with him for the use of his
story. This proved, in several ways, a most fortunate occurrence: it led
to a valued and lasting friendship and, ultimately, to the writing of
two other memorable dramas,--“The Darling of the Gods” and “Adrea,”--as
well as to the composition of a beautiful and extraordinarily popular
opera, and it resulted, directly, in the making and production, by
Belasco, of one of the most effective short plays of the last
twenty-five years,--the success of which did much to sustain him under
the disappointment of failure and the burden of heavy loss.
Belasco’s tragedy of “Madame Butterfly” is comprised in one act, of two
scenes, which, connected by a pictorial intercalation, are presented
without a break, and it implicates eight persons, besides its heroine,
all of whom are merely incidental to depiction of her tragic fate. The
substance of its story is contained in Goldsmith’s familiar lines about
the sad consequences of lovely woman’s genuflexion to folly. A man
commits the worst and meanest of all acts, the wronging of an innocent
girl, and then deserts her. The case has often been stated--but it is
not less pathetic because it is familiar. In this instance the girl is a
Japanese, and in Japan, and thus the image of her joy, sorrow,
desolation, and death are investable with opulent color and quaint
accessories. Her name is _Cho-Cho-San_, and, by her lover, she is called
“_Madame Butterfly_.” Her family is one of good position, but her
father, a soldier of the emperor, having been defeated in battle, has
killed himself, and her relatives, being poor, have induced
_Cho-Cho-San_, in order that she may be able to provide maintenance for
them, to enter into the relation of housekeeping prostitute with an
officer of the United States Navy, _Lieutenant B. F. Pinkerton_ by name,
who is stationed for a few months at Higashi, Japan, and who feels
himself to be in need of female companionship and that “comfort other
than pecuniary” specified by Patrick Henry. According to the enlightened
and advanced customs of Japan (which various English-speaking exponents
of progress and free-everything, including free-“love,” are laboring to
establish in our benighted country) this relationship is not degrading
and despicable but respectable and, in circumstances which are of
frequent occurrence, to be desired. As _Butterfly_ expresses it, though
the naval officer is described by the Japanese as “a barbarian and a
beast,” “Aevery one say: ’yaes, take him--take him beas’--he’s got
moaneys,’ so I say for jus’ liddle while, perhaps I can stan’.”
_Pinkerton_, however, proves to be a delightful companion who wins the
love of the Japanese girl and, with the crass cruelty common among
viciously self-indulgent men, he assures that forlorn waif that her
marriage to him is not merely a temporary arrangement of convenience,
terminable, according to Japanese law, by the mere act of desertion, but
is a binding, permanent one, according to American custom and law and
that she is, in fact, _Mrs. B. F. Pinkerton_. Having led her to believe
this, the amiable _Pinkerton_ presently departs upon his ship, after
making _Butterfly_ a present of money, informing her that he has “had a
very nice time” and assuring her that he will come back “when the robins
nest again.” The girl, confidently awaiting the return of her lover,
whom she declares and believes to be her lawful husband, after a little
time becomes a mother by him. Two years pass--during which she refuses
many suitors--and the money given her by _Pinkerton_ has been all but
exhausted: _Butterfly_ is confronted by the alternative of beggary or
starvation, yet she contemptuously rejects all proffers of rich
alliances, serenely trusting in the faith of _Pinkerton_. Then, at last,
he comes back, and she is apprised that though for two weeks after
leaving her he was “dotty in love with her” he recovered from his
sublime passion and that he has married another woman (who magnanimously
offers to take away her child and rear it!)--whereupon _Madame
Butterfly_ kills herself.
The play is a situation, and, though some of its detail is trivial, it
reveals elemental extremes and contrasts of much human experience; in
its essential passages it possesses the cardinal merits of simplicity
and directness, and in representation its effect is tragic and
afflictingly pathetic. One feature of its performance, devised by
Belasco, was, in respect to execution, unique,--namely, the
intercalation whereby the two scenes of the tragedy are connected. When,
at evening, the forlorn _Butterfly_,--after two years “jus’
waitin’--sometimes cry in’--sometimes watchin’--but always
waitin’!”--sees the warship to which _Pinkerton_ is attached entering
the harbor of Higashi she believes that her “husband” will immediately
repair to their abode and she becomes almost delirious with joy. She
prepares for his
[Illustration:
Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
“Too bad--those robin--never nes’--again!”
THE DEATH SCENE, BELASCO’S “MADAME BUTTERFLY”
BLANCHE BATES AS _CHO-CHO-SAN_. FRANK WORTHING AS _LIEUTENANT B. F.
PINKERTON_]
reception, attiring herself and their little child in fine array and
decking the house with flowers and lighted lanterns. Then, with the
child and a servant maid, she takes station at a window, to give him
welcome--and there she waits and watches through the night, until the
morning breaks. The lapse of time was, in the performance, skilfully and
impressively denoted,--the shades of evening darkening into night; stars
becoming visible, then brilliant, then fading from view; the lighted
lanterns one by one flickering out; the gray light of dawn revealing the
servant and the child prone upon the floor sunk in slumber, with the
deserted mother standing over them, pale and wan, still gazing fixedly
down the vacant road, while the rosy glow of sunrise grew into the full
light of day and the sweet sound of the waking songs of birds floated in
from a flowering grove of cherry trees. In the representation this
scene, during which no word was spoken and no motion made, occupied
_fourteen minutes_--and surely no tribute to Belasco’s resource and
skill in stage management and stage mechanics could be more significant
than the fact that during all that time never did the interest of his
audiences waver nor their attention flag.
At the end, when _Butterfly_ knows her lover faithless and her life
ruined and desolate, she takes her father’s sword,--on which is graven
his dying monition, “To _die_ with honor, when we can no longer live
with honor,”--and with it deals herself a mortal stroke. This desperate
deed is done out of the audience’s sight and as, with ghastly face and a
scarf bound round her throat to hide the wound, she staggers forward to
clasp her child to her breast, _Pinkerton_ enters the room and
_Butterfly_, holding the child in her arms, sinks at his feet, turning
on him a look of anguish as she murmurs “Too bad--those robin’--never
nes’--again!”--and so dies.
“Madame Butterfly” was first presented at the Herald Square Theatre,
March 5, 1900. The scenic habiliment in which Belasco attired that
tragedy was one of great beauty and perfect taste and it had never been
equalled by anything rightly comparable, excepting Augustin Daly’s
exquisite setting of “Heart of Ruby” (a play on a Japanese theme adapted
by Justin Huntly McCarthy from Mme. Judith Gautier’s “La Marchande de
Sourires”), produced at Daly’s Theatre, January 15, 1895,--which was a
complete failure: it cost Daly about $25,000 and it was withdrawn after
seven performances. Belasco’s Japanese venture, happily, was fortunate
from the first, creating a profound impression and achieving instant
success. A notably effective scenic innovation was the precedent use of
“picture drops,” delicately painted and very lovely pictures showing
various aspects of Japan,--a rice field, a flower garden, a distant
prospect of a snow-capped volcano in the light of the setting sun, and
other views,--by way of creating a Japanese atmosphere before the scene
of the drama was disclosed. Blanche Bates embodied the hapless
_Butterfly_ and animated the character with a winning show of woman’s
fidelity, with a lovely artlessness of manner and speech, and with
occasional flashes of that vivid emotional fire which was her supreme
attribute. Her personation at first caused laughter and at last touched
the source of tears,--but the predominant figure in the history of this
play, both at the first and now, was and is that of Belasco: more,
perhaps, in respect to “Madame Butterfly” than of any other of his
productions it may properly be said that his personality seemed to have
permeated every detail of this performance and its environment. This was
the original cast:
_Cho-Cho-San_ (_Madame Butterfly_) Blanche Bates.
_Suzuki_, her servant Marie Bates.
_Mr. Sharpless_, American Consul Claude Gillingwater.
_Lieutenant B. F. Pinkerton_ Frank Worthing.
_Yamadori_ Albert Bruning.
_Nakodo_ E. P. Wilks.
_Kate_, _Mrs. Pinkerton_ Katherine Black.
_Trouble_, the child Kittie ----.
_Attendant_ William Lamp.
_Attendant_ Westropp Saunders.
“ZAZA” ABROAD.
The Belasco season at the Herald Square Theatre was ended on March 24,
and on April 5, on board the steamship St. Paul, he sailed for England,
with Mrs. Leslie Carter and a numerous theatrical company, to present
that actress, in partnership with Charles Frohman, in “Zaza,” at the
Garrick Theatre, London. That project had been planned by the two
managers many months before and it was triumphantly fulfilled on April
16,--Belasco’s version of the French play and Mrs. Carter’s performance
in it being received in the British capital with rapturous applause and
remaining current there until July 28. The principal persons who seem to
have entertained seriously dissenting and dissatisfied views as to
Belasco’s treatment of the subject were the authors of the French
original, MM. Berton and Simon, whose conceit was great and whose
indignation was lively because their noxious drama had not been deemed
sacrosanct but had been freely altered.
[Illustration:
Photograph by Dupont. Belasco’s Collection.
GIACOMO PUCCINI
INSCRIPTION:
“_Al mio collaboratore e amico Sig. David Belasco: greato ricordo_
GIACOMO PUCCINI”]
VIEWS OF THE FRENCH DRAMATISTS.
Belasco, in his “Story,” gives some account of the attitude of the
French authors toward his adaptation of their play, to which,
undoubtedly, they were indebted for profit and reputation they would not
otherwise have obtained:
“During the summer of 1900 we took ’Zaza’ to London. Before opening
there I went to Paris to visit the authors, Berton and Simon. They
had been paid large sums for the American rights of ’Zaza,’ and as
the success of ’Zaza’ in America led to its revival in Paris their
profits were enormous. Naturally, I was a welcome guest and my
weekend visit was very agreeable, as it was made to the
accompaniment of a song of praise--of superlative gratitude. What I
had accomplished was remarkable! Superb! There was no other man,
etc., etc. In the meanwhile I was wondering what they would say
when they saw the manuscript of ’Zaza.’ They came to London for the
first night, preceded by a huge hamper of flowers for Mrs. Carter.
The opening was a brilliant function. The late King Edward, then
Prince of Wales, was present; also King George, then Duke of York.
I remember the military bearing of Clement Scott in his
scarlet-lined coat, and the rough and ready appearance of Bernard
Shaw, in his soft shirt and crush hat. What the latter thought of
Mrs. Carter found its caustic way into the columns of ’The Saturday
Review’; what the audience thought was told by the growing
enthusiasm as the play progressed; what Berton and Simon thought
was shown by a certain coolness in their attitude toward me. Their
enthusiasm died a natural death after the Second Act, and the more
demonstrative the audience the less pleased were they. At the close
of the Third Act they left the house, telling me in heated terms
that I had ruined their climax and it was not their play at all.
Curiously enough, they did not see the humor of the situation. My
version made their fortune because it made the woman possible to an
English-speaking audience. The authors were in the odd position of
quarreling with their bread and butter (an unusual situation for
playwrights). They grew angrier and angrier as the play gained
favor with the public, and their royalties were increased week
after week. Those were strenuous days. However, they calmed down,
and in the course of time Monsieur Berton asked me to forget the
letter of denunciation he wrote to me from Paris.”
“WITH SPEED FOR ENGLAND.”--ANOTHER SUCCESS IN LONDON.
The success which Belasco had gained with “Madame Butterfly” in New York
was so great that, had he chosen to do so, he could have successfully
prolonged his season there, at the Herald Square Theatre, throughout the
summer of 1900. But his plans for producing “Zaza” in London were
complete and he was bound “with speed for England”; he determined,
therefore, to carry his little Japanese tragedy with him, having it in
mind to show theatre-goers in the British capital, simultaneously, two
vividly contrasted specimens of his theatrical resource and power. At
first, he was disposed to transport the company, headed by Blanche
Bates, as well as the production,--that is, the scenery, dresses,
“properties” and effects. But when he sought to do this it proved to be
impracticable: the only arrangement that he found it feasible to make
was one with his partner in the “Zaza” venture, Charles Frohman, who, at
the time, was successfully presenting, at the Duke of York’s Theatre,
London, Jerome K. Jerome’s comedy of “Miss Hobbs.” With Frohman,
accordingly, Belasco arranged to bring forward “Madame Butterfly” as an
“afterpiece” to “Miss Hobbs,”--and as it was manifestly injudicious
unnecessarily to maintain two stars at one and the same theatre, Belasco
decided (to the lively disgust of Miss Bates) to cast the player of
_Miss Hobbs_, Miss Evelyn Millard, at that time a popular favorite in
London, for _Madame Butterfly_, depending on himself to train and guide
her through the performance of that part. This self-confidence was fully
justified,--the little tragedy being received with profound admiration
both by the press and the public. It was acted at the Duke of York’s,
April 28, with this cast:
_Cho-Cho-San_ (_Madame Butterfly_) Evelyn Millard.
_Mr. Sharpless_ Claude Gillingwater.
_Lieutenant B. F. Pinkerton_ Allan Aynesworth.
_Yamadori_ William H. Day.
_Nakado_ J. C. Buckstone.
_Suzuki_ Susie Vaughan.
_Kate, Mrs. Pinkerton_ Janet Evelyn Sothern.
PUCCINI AND BELASCO.
Belasco, as he told me, declined to attend the first London performance
of his “Butterfly.” “I didn’t know how it might go,” he said, “--and I
didn’t intend to be called out and ’boo-ed.’ Frohman was very confident
and kept telling me it would be all right, but I didn’t go ’round (I was
busy, too, at the Garrick) till right at the end and then I only went
’in front.’” At the end, however, the enthusiasm of the audience was so
great and the calls for him were so long and urgent that he was at last
compelled to go upon the stage and make his grateful acknowledgments. “I
sometimes feel,” said Belasco, “that the tribute of that English
audience, at first sitting in absolute silence, except for the sound of
some women crying, then calling and calling for me and waiting and
waiting, while Frohman came ’round in front and found me and insisted
upon my going to the stage, was the most gratifying I ever received.
Giacomo Puccini, the Italian composer, was in front that night and
after the curtain fell he came behind the scenes to embrace me
enthusiastically and to beg me to let him use ’Madame Butterfly’ as an
opera libretto. I agreed at once and told him he could do anything he
liked with the play and make any sort of contract he liked--because it
is not possible to discuss business arrangements with an impulsive
Italian who has tears in his eyes and both his arms round your neck! I
never believed he did see ’Madame Butterfly’ that first night; he only
heard the music he was _going_ to write. Afterward I came to know him
well, and found him the most agreeable and simple-hearted fellow in the
world,--a great artist without the so-called ’temperament.’”
“MADAME BUTTERFLY” AS AN OPERA.--A PROPOSAL BY LADY VALERIE MEUX.
Puccini’s opera, entitled “Madama Butterfly,” was first performed in New
York, in an English version, under the management of Henry Savage, at
the Garden Theatre, November 12, 1906. Elza Szamosy, an Hungarian, sang
_Cio-Cio-San_; Harriet Behne _Suzuki_; Joseph F. Sheehan _Pinkerton_,
and Winifred Goff _Mr. Sharpless_. The first performance of it in
Italian occurred in New York, at the Metropolitan Opera House, February
11, 1907, when,--with its composer among the audience--it was sung by
the following cast:
_Cio-Cio-San_ Geraldine Farrar.
_Suzuki_ Louise Homer.
_Kate, Mrs. Pinkerton_ Laura Mapleson.
_La Madre_ Josephine Jacoby.
_La Cugina_ ---- Shearman.
_La Zia_ ---- Moran.
_Lieutenant Pinkerton_ Enrico Caruso.
_Mr. Sharpless_ Antonio Scotti.
_Goro_ Albert Reiss.
_Yamadori_ ---- Paroli.
_Lo Zio Bonzo_ Adolf Mühlmann.
_Yakuside_ Giulio Rossi.
_Il Commissario Imperiale_ ---- Bégué.
_Un Ufficiale del Registro_ Francesco Navarini.
Referring to the production of this opera at the Metropolitan, Belasco
writes: “I loaned my models [for the scenery] and sent over my
electricians.”--I have not heard Puccini’s music. My old friend and
colleague Henry Edward Krehbiel has written of it:
“ ... Genuine Japanese tunes come to the surface of the
instrumental flood at intervals and tunes which copy their
characteristics of rhythm, melody, and color. As a rule this is a
dangerous proceeding except in comedy which aims to chastise the
foibles and follies of a people and a period. Nothing is more
admirable, however, than Signor
[Illustration:
Photograph by Aime Dupont. Belasco’s Collection.
GERALDINE FARRAR AS _CHI-CHI-SAN_, IN PUCCINI’S OPERA, “MADAMA
BUTTERFLY,” BASED ON BELASCO’S TRAGEDY]
Puccini’s use of it to heighten the dramatic climaxes; the merry
tune with which _Cio-Cio-San_ diverts her child in the Second Act
and the use of a bald native tune thundered out _fortissimo_ in
naked unison with the periodic punctuations of harmony at the close
are striking cases in point. Nor should the local color in the
delineation of the break of day in the beginning of the Third Act
and the charmingly felicitous use of mellifluous songs in the
Marriage Scene be overlooked. Always the effect is musical and
dramatically helpful. As for the rest there are many moments of a
strange charm in the score, music filled with a haunting tenderness
and poetic loveliness, music in which there is a beautiful meeting
of the external picture and the spiritual content of the scene.
Notable among these moments is the scene in which _Butterfly_ and
her attendant scatter flowers throughout the room in expectation of
_Pinkerton’s_ return. Here melodies and harmonies are exhaled like
the odors of the flowers.”
And elsewhere Mr. Krehbiel remarks that
“there is nothing more admirable in the score of ’Madama Butterfly’
than the refined and ingenious skill with which the composer bent
the square-toed rhythms and monotonous tunes of Japanese music to
his purposes.”
“Madame Butterfly” ran at the Duke of York’s Theatre until July 13. In
America it was presented, throughout the season of 1900-’01, beginning
at Elmira, New York, September 17, in association with “Naughty
Anthony,” by a company headed by Miss Valerie Bergere and Charles E.
Evans. On February 18, 1901, the tragedy was acted at Proctor’s Fifth
Avenue Theatre, New York, and ran till May 11. Miss Bergere performed as
_Cho-Cho-San_ until March 29, when she was succeeded by the French
actress Mlle. Pilar-Morin. Since then “Butterfly” has been acted
unnumbered times.
During the summer season of “Zaza” in London (1900), Belasco was
approached by the eccentric Lady Valerie Meux, a person of great wealth
and peculiar antecedents, with a proposal that he give up the management
and direction of Mrs. Carter and assume that of Mrs. Cora Urquhart
Potter, in whom she was then much interested. Belasco was well
acquainted with Mrs. Potter, who, indeed, was one of the many amateur
players trained by him while at the Madison Square Theatre (1884, _et
seq._) and for whose professional appearance on the stage, under the
management of Daniel Frohman, he had arranged, in 1886,--an arrangement
which Mrs. Potter suddenly abrogated. Belasco esteemed her histrionic
abilities much higher than ever there was warrant for doing (he has
written about her: “If I could have succeeded in drawing her away from
society, from the host of admirers and over-zealous friends who fondled
and petted her and kept her from really working, and if she could have
appreciated the simplicity of life, she could have taken _front rank_ in
her profession”), but he would not give up the direction or Mrs.
Carter’s career and therefore he declined Lady Meux’s proposal. That
singular person then expressed a wish that he should transfer his
theatrical activities from America to England, offered to build for him
“the finest playhouse in the land” and to provide him with ample money
with which to conduct it, so that he “might be free and untrammelled by
financial cares” and fulfil all his ambitions. “Of course,” he has said,
in telling me of these incidents, “her offer had a tempting sound, but
nothing could have induced me to accept it. Not only would I not
consider deserting Mrs. Carter, but I knew that Mrs. Potter could never
give up the social world for the exclusive hard work of the Stage. And
also I knew that within a year, perhaps less, Lady Meux would have grown
tired of her fancy and my position would be intolerable. I wanted a
theatre in London--in fact, I want one now and, perhaps, in spite of the
war, I may have one yet--but not one tied up in apron-strings.” His
decision to reject the offers of Lady Meux certainly was wise.
[Illustration]
INDEX TO VOLUME ONE
INDEX TO VOLUME ONE
_B._=_David Belasco._
A
Abbey, Henry Eugene
(Am. th. man.: 1848-1896): plans
to produce S. Morse’s “Passion Play” in N. Y., 122.
Abbey’s New Park Th., N. Y., burned, 122.
Academy of Music, N. Y.: Salvini’s first Am. appearance at, 59.
“Across the Continent” (play): B. acts in, 104.
Acting: schools of and teaching of--the subject
critically considered, 348, _et seq._
Actors: early, in Calif., 131.
Adams, Annie (Asenath Annie Adams--Mrs. James Kiskaden--Mrs.
Harvey K. Glidden: Am. actress: 1849-1916): 62.
Adams, Edwin (Am. actor: 1834-1877): in S. F., 90; 204.
Adams, John (actor): 132.
Adams (Kiskaden), Maude (Am. actress: 1872-19--): 62.
“Adolph Challet” (play): 237.
“ADREA” (tragedy): 477.
“Adrienne Lecouvreur” (play): 103.
“Agnes” (play): 105.
“Aladdin No. 2; or, The Wonderful Scamp” (burlesque): 37; 221.
Alberta, Laura (Am. actress): B. acts with, in S. F., 49; 74; 229.
Albery, James (Eng. dramatist: 1838-1889): 336.
Aldrich, Louis (Moses Lyon: Am. actor: 1843-1901): 345;
good acting by, 346;
sketch of, 347, _et seq._
Allemany, Archbishop, of S. F.: approves “The Passion Play,” 116.
Allen, Charles E. (actor): 36.
Allen, Charles L. (lawyer): 390.
Allen, Charles Leslie (Am. actor: 1830-1917): 382.
“All the Comforts of Home” (farce): 375.
“Alpine Roses” (play): 279; 280.
Alta California,” “The (S. F. newspaper): notice in,
quoted _re_ “Passion Play,” 118.
Amberg, Gustav (Ger.-Am. th. man.): 251.
“AMERICAN BORN” (melod.): written--and produced--cast
of, 257, _et seq._; 260; 261; 269; 270; 276.
American Theatre, S. F.: Julia Dean, lessee of, 7.
“Amy Robsart” (play): 210.
Anderson, David H. (Am. actor: 1814-1884): 36.
“Andrea” (play): 311.
Andrews, Lillian (Am. actress): 187.
Apostate,” “The (tragedy): 94; 160.
“Armadale” (Collins’ novel): dramatization of, 92.
“Arrah-na-Pogue” (comedy): Boucicault and wife in, 58; 225; 261.
Art, dramatic: suggestion in--instructive comment _re_, by B., 418.
“Article 47” (play): B.’s version of, 93.
ASSOMMOIR,” “L’ (novel): Daly’s view of Fr. dramatization of, 184;
same makes and produces Eng. version--which fails--B.
makes version--which succeeds, 185;
cast of B.’s version of, 186;
difficulties during rehearsals of, 187;
run of, 188; 189.
“As You Like It”: 43; 137.
Atkinson, Henry (actor): 135.
Audran, Edmond (Fr. musician: 1840-1901): 396;
writes letter praising Mrs. Carter, 398.
AUCTIONEER,” “THE (play): 139.
B
Bachelor of Arts,” “A (farce): 344.
Bailey, Philip James (the poet: 1820-1902): 249.
Baker and Farron [theatrical] Company: 88; 89.
Baker, Emily: 87.
Baldwin, Edward J. (“Lucky Baldwin”): builds Baldwin’s A. of M., S. F., 86;
not friendly with T. Maguire, 87;
supports “The Passion Play” in S. F., 115;
withdraws support of Maguire, 183.
Baldwin’s Academy of Music, S. F.: built, 86;
opened with “K. R. III.”--and B. employed at, 87;
Sullivan’s repertory at--and Gates Opera Co. at, 88;
G. F. Rowe at, 92;
farewell engagement of A. Neilson at, 210;
Maguire loses, 253.
Bandmann, Daniel Edward (German-Am. actor: 1840-1905): 133.
Banishment of Catiline,” “The (poem): recited by B., 26.
Banker’s Daughter,” “The (play): _re_ authorship of--and
first produced, 125; 126;
resemblance of “The Millionaire’s Daughter” to, 128;
engagement of, in S. F., cancelled, 129; 328.
Banks, Maude: 349.
Barker, H. Granville (Eng. actor, playwright and th.
man.: 1874-19--): and “modern” methods of, anticipated by B., 355.
Barnes, George E. (dramatic reviewer in S. F.): 103.
“BARON RUDOLPH” (melod.): production of--and story--failure
of, 321, _et seq._;
rewritten by Howard--and by B., 324;
cast of, 326.
BARRETT, LAWRENCE P. (Am. actor and th. man.: 1838-1891): 42;
acts _King Henry the Fifth_ in S. F., 91; 95;
first appearance of, in S. F., 135;
feeling of, toward McCullough--and characters of _Cassius_,
and _Antony_, 165;
first plays _Cassius_--and same, in S. F., 166.
Barrett, Hon. George C. (Judge--N. Y.): 122.
Barrows, James O. (Am. actor): schoolboy companion of B.--wins
medal in Comedy, 12;
B.’s early friendship with, 27.
Barry, William (actor): 131.
Barrymore, Maurice (Eng.-Am. actor and dramatist: 1848-1905): 309; 427.
BATES, BLANCHE (Mrs. Milton F. Davis--Mrs. George Creel: Am.
actress: 1872-19--): 35; 62; 74;
B.’s first meeting with, 77;
mother’s ambition for--and B.’s promise _re_, 78;
beauty--qualities--potentialities of, 469, _et seq._;
lapse of, into obscurity--and biographical particulars _re_, 471, _et seq._;
first acts under B.’s management in “Naughty Anthony,” 473, _et seq._;
as _Cora_, in same, 474;
same, 475;
her performance of _Madame Butterfly_, 483; 487.
Bates, Frank Mark (Am. actor: 18---18--): 75;
murdered, 76.
BATES, MRS. FRANK MARK (Frances Marion Hinckley--Mrs. Charles
L. Lord: Am. actress: 1848-1908): 35; 74;
B.’s recollection of, and of her husband, 75, _et seq._;
B. acts _Armand Duval_ with, 76;
B.’s promise to, _re_ daughter, 77;
on B.’s facility in adapting plays, 84; 133; 472.
Beauty and the Brigands,” “The (burlesque): 37.
Behne, Harriet (singer): 489.
Belasco, Augusta (Mrs. William Elliott): 469.
=BELASCO, DAVID= (American theatrical manager, playwright,
stage manager, actor, dramatist: 1853-19--):
qualities of--ancestry and parentage, 1;
parents go to Calif.--birth of--and removed to Victoria, B. C., 2;
early influences affecting--education of--early years in
Roman Catholic monastery, 4;
residence of, in monastery--abiding effect of R. C.
influence on--runs away--joins travelling circus--befriended
by a clown, 5;
reclaimed by father and taken home--theatrical proclivity of--and
“first appearance” of on stage, 6;
his memory of appearing with Julia Dean--his recollections of early
actors characterized, 7;
frequent juvenile employment of--appears in “K. R. III.,” with C. Kean
and E. Tree--removal of, to San Francisco, 10;
a pupil at the Lincoln Grammar School, S. F.--his teachers--his talent
for declamation--recitations by, 11;
“mascot” of the Victoria Fire Department--pupil at Fourth Street School,
S. F.--wins Gold Medal in Tragedy--early reading--first
places of residence in S. F., 12;
first play by, date of, question about, etc.--boyhood custom of,
as writer--recollection of, _re_ his play, “The Roll of the Drum,” 13;
passion of, for stage--letter to, from boyhood friend--recitations
of, in boyhood--also early performances participated in by, 14;
recitation by, before Queen Emma of the Hawaiian Islands--removed
with parents from Victoria--filial devotion of--and early
propensity of, 15;
industry of, in childhood--public recitations--assists parents, 16;
hard early experience of--advancement--reading and recreation
in boyhood, 17;
effect of McCullough’s recitation of “The Little Hero” on--becomes
a stowaway--his story of his adventures as, 17, _et seq._;
leaves school--marriage of, 19;
early record and experience of, as actor, reciter, etc.--payment
of (period 1871-1879), 20;
bohemian adventures of, related to author--his mother’s name for,
and opinion about, 21;
miscellaneous knowledge accumulated by--tangled chronology of his
early life--his “The Story of My Life” examined and estimated
by author, 22, _et seq._;
incorrect recollections by, rectified, 23;
time, place, etc., of his first formal appearance on stage established, 24;
his first part--billed as “Walter Kingsley” when making first
appearance--reason for taking, and for dropping, that name--form
of his name in early playbills--childhood appearances of, 25;
appears with C. Kean--early appearances as super, reciter,
etc.--appears with Mme. Methua-Scheller (1869) in “Under the
Gas-Light”--and with J. Proctor in
“The Jibbenainosay”--Proctor’s reason for employing him, 26;
appears in Prof. Hager’s “The Great Republic”--his parts
in--appears in amateur performances at Platt’s Hall, S. F.--early
association with J. O. Barrows, 27;
smitten with Lotta--appears with amateur actors’ association
in S. F. (1871) and is commended by local newspaper--meets J.
McCullough, 28;
advantage of McC.’s friendship--early friendship with W. H.
Sedley-Smith, 29;
Sedley-Smith’s influence on--same employs, at Calif. Th. and
advice of same to, 33;
his actual adoption of stage--acts with J. Murphy, in “Help,” 34;
actors with whom associated in “Help”--date of his association
with Chapman Sisters, 35;
at the Metropolitan Th. in ’73, 36;
his parts in various performances at the Metro.--makes “a hit”
as _Prince Saucilita_, in “The Gold Demon,” 37;
earning extra pay, 38;
early acquaintances of--theatrical vagabondage of--and describes
same, 39, _et seq._;
early parts played by, 41;
eking out a living--early admiration, etc., of Walter
Montgomery, 42, _et seq._;
chief recitations by--appearances of, at Platt’s Hall,
about 1870--first meeting with future wife--impression of, 44;
serious injury to--near death--marriage of, 45;
travels with Chapman Sisters--returns to S. F.--employed
by J. H. Le Roy--suggests “The New Magdalen” for B. Pateman, 46;
his recollections of first performance of that play--and
of Miss Pateman--engaged at Shiels’ O. H., 48;
another engagement with Murphy--acts with L. Alberta--with
F. Cathcart and G. Darrell--various parts played by, 49;
acts for bft. J. Dunbar--goes to Virginia City, Nev., under
management J. Piper, 50;
varied experience in Virginia City, 51;
associated there with Mrs. D. P. Bowers--and regard for
same--meeting with Dion Boucicault--confusion
about--and facts considered--profound influence
on, of Boucicault--B.’s reminiscence of same, 52, _et seq._;
author’s opinion _re_ Boucicault’s employment of, in
Virginia City--opinion of, about Boucicault--first
S. F. appearance of, again mentioned, 57;
not in Virginia City before 1873--disappears from
S. F. records--and goes to Virginia C., 60;
concerning, and Boucicault, in Virginia C.--number of
engagements there filled by--period of his career, 1873-1876, 61;
actors associated with, in Virginia C. enumerated--and
painful experience of, with demented woman, 62;
freed from control of Piper--returns to S. F.--appears
with A. Neilson during her first S. F.
engagement--sees the Lingards in “La Tentation,” 63;
sees Raymond in “Led Astray”--consulted _re_ “The Gilded
Age”--his recollection of same and J. T. Raymond, 64;
employed by Lingard--and by Barton Hill--plays and actors
associated with, summer of 1874, 68;
his admiration for S. W. Piercy, 69;
“barnstorming” ventures by--employed by Mile. Zoe--and
appears with--secretary to T. Maguire--appears
with J. A. Herne, etc., 70;
the same--and sees Mayo in “Griffith Gaunt”--makes
a version of same--again works with J. H. Le Roy, 71;
works with Herne, etc.--assists in revival of “Oliver Twist”--revives
and produces “The Enchantress” for A. Bennett--and
appears in, with same, 72;
temperamental heedlessness of, _re_ dates--author’s
consequent difficulty in making Chronology, 73;
most important event of early life--nature of his
experience--“stars” associated with, 74;
his reminiscences of the “minstrel” “Jake”
Wallace--and of Frank M., and Mrs. Bates, 75;
admiration of, for J. E. Owens--and writes play
for--kindness to, and instruction of, by C. R. Thorne, Sr., 78;
“barnstorming” with a “beautiful school teacher”--friendship
with Mary Gladstane--and admiration for “Mary Warner,” 79;
plays produced by, with Miss Rogers--liking of, for
“Robert Macaire”--“specialties” of B.--makes wigs, 80;
returns to S. F. to study Hooley Comedy Co., W. H.
Crane, etc.--employed by Hooley, 81;
willingness and simplicity of, _re_ labor--employed
by Emmet as dresser--and acts with, 82;
studies Daly’s productions--and refused engagement
by same--peddles “patent medicines,” 83;
prepares prompt books--marvellous resources of, 84;
first meeting of, with J. A. Sawtell--later association--joins Thorne, Sr.,
at his Palace Th.--and not paid by, 85;
plays acted in with Thorne, Sr.--appears with F. Jones, 86;
prompter and assistant stage manager at Baldwin’s Academy of Music, S.
F.--associated with B. Sullivan--and others, 87;
plays acted in by, with Sullivan--he returns to Maguire’s New Th., 88;
views of, _re_ difficult parts--interesting reminiscence of Sullivan--goes
“barnstorming” again, 89;
acts in bfts.--sees E. Adams--sees G. Rignold in “King Henry V.,” 90;
and sees Barrett in same--diverse activities of--acts with
G. F. Rowe--appears
again in “Under the Gas-Light”--meets Eleanor Carey, 92;
makes play on “Article 47” for Miss Carey, 93;
period of his life, 1876-1879, _et seq._--sees and studies
E. Booth--and appears
with same at Calif. Th.--his Booth relics--works for
Ward and W. Montague, 96;
travels with F. M. Phelps--and joins F. Gardner in
“The Egyptian Mystery,” 97;
his appearance with same--and plays written by, for, enumerated, 99;
recitations by, in same association--and his reminiscence
of--experiments in stage
lighting, 99;
travels with “The Egyptian Mystery”--sees Modjeska’s
first Am. appearance, 100;
recollections of same, 102;
acting and stage managing with T. W. Keene, 103;
acting with the “Frayne Troupe”--plays old women--and
goes to Bush St. Th., S. F., 104;
at the Baldwin again--directs the N. Y. Union Square
Theatre Co. in S. F.--and travels
and acts with--tribute to, by that co., 105;
letter to, from F. F. Mackay on behalf of same--his
“Dearer than Life” and his “Olivia”
produced, 106;
his “Olivia”--and alters “A Woman of the People,” 107;
makes “Proof Positive” for R. Wood--directs C. Morris--and
adapts “Not Guilty,” 108;
his “Not Guilty” produced in S. F.--recollections of
that production--leaves the Baldwin, 110;
contemptible treatment of, _re_ “Not Guilty”--Baldwin
intervenes--and an experience with
D. Thompson and J. M. Hill, 111, _et seq._;
returns to S. F. and to the Baldwin--adapts and produces
“Within an Inch of His Life,” 113;
“fire effect” in same, 114;
S. Morse’s “Passion Play” produced by, etc., 115, _et seq._;
his opinion of O’Neill’s _Jesus Christ_--he adapts
“La Famille Benoiton!”--and writes
“The Millionaire’s Daughter,” 125;
his account of producing same, 126, _et seq._;
accused of plagiarism--and comment thereon, 128;
detraction of B.--reason for, and examined, 129, _et seq._;
nature of early influences affecting, 133;
characteristics of--and early influences on, again, 134;
sees opening of the California Theatre, S. F., 135;
special histrionic idols of--a Shakespearean student
and scholar--and nature of early training as such, 136;
plays of S. familiar to--parts in S. plays acted
by--and women of, acted by, 137;
pre-eminently qualified to produce Shakespeare--and
reasons why he has not yet done so in N. Y., 138;
on _Shylock_, D. Warfield as, etc., 139;
a prescient manager--his repertory as an actor--more
than 170 parts and plays enumerated, 140, _et seq._;
his “The Story of My Life” critically examined by author, 148, _et seq._;
author and, on stage deaths, etc., 150;
not the inventor of “natural” acting, 155;
not a disparager of the Past, 157;
in boyhood, sees and studies Daly’s Co., 158;
great service of, to Stage, 159;
and nature of--his qualities--and influences affecting, 161;
detraction of, by criticasters, 162;
enduring nature of his achievements,
163;
birth of--and misleading accounts of his early career, 164, _et seq._;
errors of, _re_ Barrett, McCullough, Montgomery,
etc., corrected, 165, _et seq._;
views of, _re_ “one-part actors,” Salvini, Irving,
Jefferson, etc., contravened, 168, _et seq._;
R. Coghlan engaged at his request, 177;
Miss Coghlan’s attitude toward, 178;
they become good friends--Miss C. appears under
his direction--he writes play for same, 179;
Wallack wishes to buy that play, 180;
B.’s recollection of Herne and K. Corcoran, 181;
bft. for B. and Herne, 182;
B. on same--and Maguire and Baldwin, 183;
he makes version of “L’Assommoir,” 185;
and same is produced by, 186;
friction at rehearsals of same, 187;
he projects play of “Chums” for O’Neill and Morrison, 188;
writes and produces same with Herne and his wife, 189;
failure thereof, 190;
leaves S. F. to venture in East, 191;
arranges to bring out “Chums” in Chicago as “Hearts of Oak,” 192;
success of venture in Chicago, 193;
dissension between, and Herne begins, 195;
B. and Herne come to N. Y., 196;
consequence to, of failure in N. Y., 206;
badly treated by Herne--and sells “Hearts of Oak” interest, 207;
account of his return to S. F., 208, _et seq._;
re-employed in minor capacity at the Baldwin--and
his recollections of Miss Neilson and her farewell, 209, _et seq._;
his “Paul Arniff,” 214;
produced, 215;
his version of “True to the Core,” 220;
various productions directed by--his recollections
and estimate of W. E. Sheridan, 221;
impression made on, by Sheridan--and gives imitations
of that actor--recollections of Laura Don, 225, _et seq._;
produces “Wedded by Fate”--and recollections of
H. B. McDowell, 227;
again associated with Geo. Darrell, 229;
his play of “La Belle Russe,” 230, _et seq._;
same produced--and success of, 236;
requests Tearle to inform Wallack concerning
same--his “The Stranglers of Paris,” 237;
same produced--story and quality of, 238;
takes “La Belle Russe” to N. Y., 241;
harsh treatment of, by Maguire, 242;
sells “La Belle Russe” outright, 243;
returns to S. F. and the Baldwin, 244;
errors of, _re_ Wallack, corrected, 245, _et seq._;
his “La Belle Russe” produced at Wallack’s, 246;
directing for Sheridan again, in S. F., 247;
his “The Curse of Cain”--recollections of--and
views of the character of Cain, 248, _et seq._;
fidelity of, to Maguire, 253;
associated with G. Frohman, 254;
and revives his alteration of “The Octoroon” with G. Frohman, 255;
description of “effects” in, 256;
writes “American Born,” 257;
produces same, 258;
first meeting of, and C. Frohman, 259, _et seq._;
accepts employment at Madison Square Theatre,
N. Y.--leaves S. F. with G. Frohman’s Co., 261;
letter to, from F. F. Mackaye, 262;
retrospect of his early career--and partial list of
plays produced by, prior to 1882, 263, _et seq._;
produces “American Born” in Chicago, 269;
recollections of same--and of journey East, 270, _et seq._;
interview with Dr. Mallory--engagement at
Mad. Sq. Th. confirmed--and comment on by author,
etc., 275, _et seq._;
hard terms of contract with, 277;
unrecognized labors of, 278;
plays produced by, at Mad. Sq. Th., prior to 1884, 279;
production--contents--significance of his “May Blossom,” 280, _et seq._;
faints at first performance of “May Blossom”--gratitude
of, to author, 287;
accused of plagiarism, 288;
and cleared of charge, 289;
goes to England for first time--author and, meet for
first time, 290, _et seq._;
adapts “Called Back,” 291;
friction with Palmer--interview with same and Boucicault, 293;
he leaves the Mad. Sq. Th.--project of starring as
_Hamlet_, etc., 294, _et seq._;
association with S. Mackaye, 296;
quarrel with, and same ended, 297;
writes “Valerie” for L. Wallack, 298;
particulars of that task, 299;
his “Valerie” considered, 300, _et seq._;
feeling of, toward Wallack, 305;
errors of, corrected, 306;
returns to S. F., 307;
his “Valerie” in S. F., 308;
cast of same--and other plays produced, 309;
extraordinary performance for bft. of--cast, etc., 310, _et seq._;
returns to N. Y., 311;
engaged at the Lyceum Theatre, 313;
makes “The Highest Bidder” for E. H. Sothern, 314, _et seq._;
produces “The Great Pink Pearl” and “Editha’s
Burglar”--develops Elsie Leslie, 317;
with Greene, writes “Pawn Ticket 210” for Lotta, 318, _et seq._;
productive industry of--produces “Baron Rudolph”
(rewritten in style of Howard)--and strives
to save Knight from failure in, 321, _et seq._;
his recollections of G. Knight and this play (“Only a Tramp”), 325;
commissioned to write second play for the Lyceum, 326;
takes Henry C. De Mille into collaboration--they write
“The Wife”--and B.’s recollections of, etc., 327, _et seq._;
success of “The Wife” due to scene invented by--method
of collaboration of, and De Mille, 334;
he forces “The Wife” into success, 336;
B. and De Mille commissioned to write play for younger
Sothern--and B. revises Gillette’s “She,” etc., 337, _et seq._;
his work as a teacher of acting--goes to Echo Lake and
writes “Lord Chumley” with De Mille, 340;
on actors and their choice of parts--persuades Sothern
to act _Chumley_, 341;
recollections of writing “Lord Chumley,” 343;
varied labors of--and revises “The Kaffir Diamond,” 345, _et seq._;
his view of schools of acting, 349;
a master--and wholly exceptional as a teacher of acting,
etc., 351, _et seq._;
“Electra” revived under his direction--his recollections of, 353;
anticipates G. Barker and “modern methods” by more than
a quarter-of-a-century--miscellaneous work of, at Lyceum, 355;
places “Robert Elsmere” on the stage for Gillette--commissioned
to write third play for Lyceum, 356, _et seq._;
on best subjects for the Drama--and writes “The Charity
Ball” with De Mille, 357, _et seq._;
association of, with Mrs. Leslie Carter, 361;
first meeting of, and same, 362;
Mrs. Carter seeks, at Echo Lake, 363;
impressed by latent talent of same--and determines to train her, 363;
unable to hold rehearsals for lack of a stage--undertakes
to revise and produce
“The Prince and the Pauper” in return for use of a
stage, 365, _et seq._;
quality of, when angered--opinion of Elsie Leslie--and
her supporting co., 367;
his bargain for stage of the Lyceum repudiated, 368;
his bitter resentment of--and retires from the Lyceum, 369;
his shackled situation, after twenty years of labor, 370;
desperate resolution of, 371;
training Mrs. Carter--and his situation grows worse, 372;
proposal to, by C. Frohman--and same accepted--“Men and Women”
written for C. Frohman, 382;
seeks play for Mrs. Carter--and employs P. M. Potter, 384;
arrangement of, with N. K. Fairbank, to “back” Mrs.
Carter--disappointed by Potter, 384;
employs Gordon--and throws out all his work--revises
“The Ugly Duckling”--and produces same, 385;
difficulties in starring Mrs. Carter, 387;
deserted by Fairbank, 388;
Fairbank repudiates obligations to--and B. sues him, 389;
B.’s suit against Fairbank--and origin of preposterous
story about B.’s methods of instruction, 390;
Mrs. Carter’s acknowledgment of debt to--and his view of Fairbank, 391;
writing “The Heart of Maryland”--and bitter struggle of, 392;
shifts to make a living, 393;
reminiscence of, about Mrs. Carter, 394;
proposal to, by C. Frohman, for managerial alliance, 395;
same accepted--and adapts “Miss Helyett” for American
stage--interviews of, with Audran and Wyndham, 396;
with C. Frohman he produces “Miss Helyett”--and his work on same, 397;
meets Audran and obtains letter of commendation from, 398;
lays aside “The Heart of Maryland” to assist C.
Frohman--takes F. Fyles into collaboration--and
appreciative remembrance of, 402;
writes “The Girl I Left Behind Me” with Fyles, 403;
shrewd judgment in selecting novel theme for, 404;
his play of “The Girl I Left Behind Me” critically
examined in detail, etc., 406, _et seq._;
instructive observations of, _re_ suggestion in art, 418;
disregards the principle, 419;
remarks of, _re_ origin of “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” 420, _et seq._;
relations of, with C. Frohman, 421;
important letter to, from C. Frohman, 422;
his “dreams”--seeks, and gains, the co-operation of R. M. Hooley, 425;
arrangement with Hooley to produce “The Heart of Maryland”--and that project
blocked by sudden death of Hooley--B. extruded
from Chicago in favor of Klaw & Erlanger, 427;
adapts “The Younger Son” to assist C. Frohman at the Empire, 428;
comment on failure of, 430;
again revises “The Heart of Maryland”--and interjects “local color,” 431;
significant comment by, _re_ difficulty in producing
“The Heart of Maryland,” 432, _et seq._;
author’s endorsement of his views thereon--and B.’s desperate straits, 433;
Palmer accepts “The Heart of Maryland,” 434;
same is unable to fulfil contract and produce--B. again defeated, 435;
reminiscence of final efforts to bring out “The Heart
of Maryland,” 436, _et seq._;
at last produces that play--the turning-point in his career, 437;
comment on his experience in business dealings, 438;
his “The Heart of Maryland” critically examined in detail, 438, _et seq._;
his speech on first night of that play in N. Y., 445;
success at last--trial of his suit against Fairbank--revises
“Under the Polar Star”--visits S. F.--and buys “The First Born,” 447;
his beautiful presentment of that play in N. Y., 449; 450;
with C. Frohman presents “The First Born” in London, 451;
sails for England--and with same presents “The Heart of
Maryland” in London, 452, _et seq._;
newspaper injustice to, _re_ that play of his and
“Secret Service,” 453, _et seq._;
quest of a new play--and reads about “Zaza,” 454;
sees that play--and arranges with C. Frohman to buy
and produce--returns to Am., 455;
author’s strictures on his play of “Zaza” and production of same by, 456;
compassionate nature of--and his moral attitude more
emotional than rational, 459, _et seq._;
first production of “Zaza”--and same in N. Y., 461;
success of Mrs. Carter is due to, 465;
death of his mother--strange experience of, at time--and views
of, on spiritualism, 466, _et seq._;
filial affections of--and reminiscence of his
mother--and significant letter from, 468, _et seq._;
serious purpose of, in “Naughty Anthony,” 475;
his comment on failure of same, and causes thereof, 476;
reads story of “Madame Butterfly”--and writes a tragedy
based on--same critically considered in detail, 477, _et seq._;
produces that tragedy--and success thereof, 482;
presents “Zaza” in London--and disgust of Fr. authors thereof, 484;
B.’s amusing reminiscence of same, 485, _et seq._;
takes “Madame Butterfly” to Eng., 486;
with C. Frohman presents same in London--and achieves
memorable success with, 487;
great tribute of audience to, at first Eng. presentation
of “Madame Butterfly,” 488, _et seq._;
gives operatic rights of, to Puccini, 489;
lends scene models for operatic production of, 490;
meets Lady V. S. Meux--and is invited to abandon Mrs.
Carter’s direction and assume that of Mrs. J. B. Potter, 492;
his desire to conduct a London theatre--Lady Meux offers
to build one for him--he declines both her proposals--and
comment thereon, 493.
Belasco, Mrs. David (Cecilia Loverich): first meeting with B., 44;
marriage of, 45.
Belasco, Frederick (1862-19--): birth of, 3; 447.
BELASCO, HUMPHREY ABRAHAM (father of D. B.: 1830-1911):
nationality of--and birth, 1;
goes with wife to Calif.--thence to Victoria, 2;
traces runaway son--affiliations of, with actors, 6;
removes family from Victoria, 10;
removes family to S. F., 15.
BELASCO, MRS. HUMPHREY ABRAHAM (Reina Martin, mother of
D. B.: 1830-1899): nativity of--and birth, 1;
goes with husband to S. F.--birth of first child--goes to Victoria, 2;
children of, born in Victoria, 3;
her early name for B.--and opinion about, 21;
death of--and B.’s strange experience at time of, 466, _et seq._
Belasco, Israel (1861----): birth, 3.
Belasco, Walter (1864-19--): birth, 3.
“Belle Lemar” (melod.): 439.
BELLE RUSSE,” “LA (melod.): object of B. in writing, 230;
story of, 231, _et seq._;
produced--and success of, 236;
original cast of, 237;
B. takes to N. Y., 241;
desired by various managers, 241;
sold outright--and produced in N. Y., 243;
B. Howard’s opinion of, etc., 244; 246; 268; 298; 432.
Bellew (Higgin), Harold Kyrle (Eng.-Am. actor: 1845-1911): 298;
admirable performance of, as _Challoner_, 303.
Bellows, Charles: 349.
Bells,” “The (melod.): 168; 170; 172; 247.
Bells,” “The (poem): 43.
Belot, Adolph (Fr. novelist and dramatist: 1829-1890): 238.
“Ben Battle” (poem): 43.
Bennett, Amy (Am. actress): B. revises and directs
revival of “The Enchantress” for, 72.
Bennett, Julia (Mrs. Jacob Barrow: 1824-18--): 153.
Bergere, Valerie (Am. actress): 491; 492.
“Bernardino del Carpio” (poem): 11; 20; 44.
Bert, Frederick W. (Am. th. agent and man.): 91.
Berton, Pierre (Fr. journalist and playwright: 1840-1912): 456; 484; 485; 486.
Bernhardt, Sarah (Sarah Frances--Mme. Jacques Damala:
Fr. actress, sculptor, and th. man.: 184[4?]-19--): 151.
Big Bonanza,” “The (play): produced in N. Y., 80; 82.
Billings, Arthur D. (Am. actor: 18----1882): 46; 47; 62; 87;
bft. to, 100.
Bishop, Charles B. (Am. actor, and M.D.: 18---1889): 105.
Black Hand; or, The Lost Will,” “The (melod.): B. acts in, 86.
Blaine, Mrs. James G., Jr. (Mary Nevin): 340.
Blake, William Rufus (Am. actor: 1805-1863): 157.
“Bleak House” (dramatization of): Mme. Janauschek
in--and B. makes version of, 84.
Bleiman, Max: 436; 437; 447.
Blinn, Holbrook (Am. actor: 1872-19--): 11.
Boker, George Henry (Am. poet and dramatist: 1823-1890): 9.
BOOTH, EDWIN THOMAS (am. Actor and Th. Man.: 1833-1893):
early S. F. “hit” by, in mimicry, 38;
returns to S. F.--and B. meets, 93;
repertory of, at Calif. Th.--and B. appears with, 94;
B.’s recollections of--and relics of, 95, _et seq._;
132; 151; 168; 170; 171; 273.
Booth, Junius Brutus, Sr. (Eng.-Am. tragedian: 1796-1852): as _King Lear_, 32.
Booth, Junius Brutus, Jr. (Am. actor and th. man.: 1821-1883): 131.
Booth’s Theatre, N. Y.: “Daddy O’Dowd” first produced at, 58.
Boston Museum: 8.
Boucheron, Maxime (Fr. librettist): 397.
BOUCICAULT, DION (Dionysius Lardner Boucicault
[originally Bourcicault]: Irish-Am. dramatist,
actor, and th. man.: 182[2?]-1890):
first meeting of, with B.--confusion regarding--profound
influence of, on B.--his “Led Astray”--B.’s
reminiscence of, etc., 52, _et seq._; 54;
and Mrs. (Agnes Robertson) return to Am. and appear
in “Arrah-na-Pogue”--tour by--many projects of--first
appearance of, as _Daddy O’Dowd_, 58;
at first Am. appearance of T. Salvini--author on
first production of his “Led Astray,” 59;
author on methods of--first appearance of, in S. F., 60; 69; 106;
effect of, on B., 160; 165; 169; 173; 174;
imitates Jefferson’s Rip, 175; 255; 276; 293; 294;
designations of dramatic forms by, 377; 412; 419; 439.
“Boucicault in California” (entertainment): 60.
Bowers, Mrs. David P. (Elizabeth Crocker--Mrs. ----
Brown--Mrs. James C. McCollom: 1830-1895): 51;
B. acts with--and his regard for, 52; 133; 136.
Bowery Theatre, N. Y. (old): Julia Dean makes first N. Y. appearance at, 8.
“Box and Cox” (farce): 372.
Boyesen, Hjalmar Hjorth: 279.
Bozenta, Charles (Charles [Karol] Bozenta Chlapowski:
Polish-Am. journalist and th. man.: 1838-1914): 310.
Bradley, A. D. (Am. stage man. and actor): 230.
Brady, William A. (Am. th. man.: 1865-19--): 446; 451.
“Brass” (play): 92.
Bridge of Sighs,” “The (poem): 43.
Broadway Theatre, N. Y. (old): Julia Dean at, 8; 9.
Brooke, Gustavus Vaughan (Irish actor: 1819-1867): 131.
Brooks, Joseph (Am. th. agent and man.: 1849-1916): 196; 251; 438.
Brougham, John (Irish-Am. actor, dramatist, and
th. man.: 1810-1880): his designation of Lotta, 27; 43; 132; 177.
Brown, Henry (Am. actor and stage man.): 104; 115.
Bruce,” “The (poem): 43.
Buchanan, McKean (Am. actor and th. man.: 1823-1872): 131.
Buckland, Wilfred (Am. th. designer): 349.
Buckley, Edward J. (Am. actor: 18---18--): 87; 89; bft., 92; 135.
Buckley (Uhl), May (Am. actress: 1875-19--): 449.
Buckley, Mrs. Edward J.: 135.
Bulletin,” “The San Francisco Evening (newspaper): on B.’s
“Not Guilty,” 110;
on acting of Daly’s Co., 159.
Bullock, William (Am. journalist): 357.
Burgess, Neil (Am. actor: 1846-1910): 375.
Burke, Charles St. Thomas (Am. actor: 1822-1854): 172; 173; 341.
Burnett, Mrs. Frances Hodgson (Frances Eliza Hodgson)
(Am. novelist and playwright: 1849-19--): 317.
Burr, ---- (school teacher): 4.
Burroughs, Claude (Am. actor: 18---1876): --.
Burroughs, W. F.: 135.
Burt, Frederick W. (Am. th. agent and man.): 207.
Burton, William Evans (Eng.-Am. actor and th. man.: 1804-1860): 158.
Bush Street Theatre, S. F.: B. acts at, with O. D. Byron, 104.
Bustle Among the Petticoats,” “A (farce): 375.
Byron, George Gordon, sixth Lord (the poet: 1788-1824): 120; 412.
Byron, Henry James (Eng. dramatist, actor, and th. man.:
1835-1884): 36; 106; 220; 343.
Byron, Oliver Doud (Am. actor: 1842-19--): B. acts with, in S. F., 105.
C
“Cain” (poem--Byron’s): 120.
Caldwell, W. (actor): 135.
California (State of): “gold fever” in, 2.
California Theatre, S. F.: Boucicault’s first Calif. appearance made at, 60;
A. Neilson’s first Calif. appearance made at, 63;
L. Barrett at, in “K. Henry V.,” 91;
opened--and dramatic co. there, 135;
eng. of L. Wallack at, 180.
Call,” “The San Francisco (newspaper): 103.
“Called Back” (melod.): 290; 291, _et seq._; 293; 294.
Callender’s Negro Minstrels: 255.
Calvert, Charles (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1828-1879): 90;
trains G. Rignold, 91;
his revival of “K. Henry V.,” 92.
“Camilla’s Husband” (play): 179.
“Camille” (play): 458.
Campbell, Bartley (Am. dramatist: 1844-1888): 80;
version of “Ultimo” by, 81; 221; 348.
Carey, Eleanor (Am. actress): first appearance of, in S. F.--and B. meets, 92;
reopens Grand O. H., S. F., 97;
B. makes play for, on “Article 47,” 93.
“Carlotta! Queen of the Arena” (play): 72.
Carlyle, Thomas (the historian: 1795-1881): 456.
“Carmen” (opera): 111.
Carr, Mary (actress): 153.
CARTER, MRS. LESLIE (Caroline Louise Dudley--Mrs. William
Louis Payne: Am. actress: 186[4?]-19--):
association of, with B.--and biographical
particulars concerning, 361, _et seq._;
divorced, 362;
first meets B.--crude aspirations of, 362;
follows B. to Echo Lake--and impresses him with talent, 363;
B. determines to train, 364; 366;
antagonism toward, 368; 369; 370; 371;
B.’s training of, 372, _et seq._;
play for, sought by B., 383;
“backing” obtained for--and first appearance of, on stage, 385; 386;
comment on her performance of _Kate Graydon_--difficulties in managing, 387;
first tour of, ended, 388; 389;
fiction _re_ B.’s method of training--letter of,
acknowledging her debt to B., 390, _et seq._;
her recollection of a dark period, 392;
thinks of becoming a “beauty doctor”--managerial
antipathy toward, 393, _et seq._; 394;
goes to Paris to see farce, 396; 421; 422; 425;
B. arranges to bring her out in Chicago, 426; 427; 431; 433; 434;
as _Maryland Calvert_, 444; 446;
sails for Eng., 452; 454;
sails for Am., 455; 472;
acts _Zaza_ in London, 484; 485;
B. invited to
give up direction of, 492;
he refuses same, 493.
“Caryswold” (melod.): 257.
Cat and the Cherub,” “The (play): 451.
Cathcart, Fanny (Mrs. Geo. Darrell: actress): B.
acts with, and G. Darrell, 49.
Cathcart, James F. (Eng.-Aus’n. actor: 1829-1903): 87; 133.
“Caught in a Corner” (play): rewritten by B., 295.
Cayvan, Georgia (Am. actress: 1858-1906): first distinctive success of, 285;
as B.’s _May Blossom_, 328;
hostile to Mrs. L. Carter, 328; 369.
Celebrated Case,” “A (play): 105.
Chanfrau, Francis [usually Frank] S. (Am. actor
and th. man.: 1824-1884): 133; 168.
Chapman, Edith: 349.
Chapman, Logan (actor): 261.
Chapman, William B. (actor): 173.
Chapman Sisters, Ella and Blanche (Am. burlesque actresses): 35; 36; 37;
B. travels with, 46.
Charge of the Light Brigade,” “The (poem): 43.
CHARITY BALL,” “THE (domestic drama): high rank of, 357;
story of, 358, _et seq._;
production--performance--and cast of, 360; 432.
Charke, Charlotte (Charlotte Cibber--Mrs. Richard
Charke: Eng. actress: died, 1760): 40.
“Charles O’Malley” (dramatization of): S. Cowell acts in, 71; 72.
“Childe Harold” (poem): 412.
Children of the Ghetto,” “The (novel): stage synopsis of--a failure, 473.
Chippendale, William H. (actor and th. man.: 1802-1888): 153.
“Chispa” (play): 247; 254.
CHRISTMAS NIGHT; OR, THE CONVICT’S RETURN,” “THE (play): 98.
Chronicle,” “The San Francisco (newspaper): 248.
“CHUMS” (play): 188--and see “Hearts of Oak.”
Cibber, Colley (Eng. actor, dramatist, th. man., etc.: 1671-1757): 87; 137.
“Cinderella” (burlesque): 46.
Clandestine Marriage,” “The (comedy): 160.
Clarke (O’Neill), George (Irish-Am. actor: 1840-1906): 299.
Clarke, John Sleeper (Am.-Eng. actor and th. man.: 1833-1899): 295.
Claxton, Kate (Mrs. Charles A. Stevenson) (Am. actress: 18---19--): 229.
Clemens, Samuel Langhorne (Mark Twain: Am. author: 1835-1910): Densmore’s
ver. of his “The Gilded Age”--letter about same
from, to Howells, quoted, 65;
Raymond’s letter about his “The Golden Age,” 66;
play suggested to, by Elsie Leslie, 365; 366.
Coggswell, William J. (actor): 69.
Coghlan, Charles Francis (Eng.-Am. actor, th. man.,
and dramatist: 1842-1899): 133; 177.
Coghlan, Rose (Mrs. John A. Sullivan: Eng.-Am. actress: 1852-19--): 133;
comes to Am.--and first appearance there--engaged
by Maguire at B.’s request, 177;
attitude of, toward B., 178;
they become friends--first appearance of, in S.
F.--play written for, by B., 179;
she appears in same, 180; 183; 184;
experience of, in rehearsing “L’Assommoir,” 187;
ends S. F. engagement, 188; 237; 246.
Colleen Bawn,” “The (drama): 36.
Collins, John (actor): 132.
Collins, William Wilkie (Eng. novelist and dramatist: 1824-1889): 46;
his “The New Magdalen” dramatized and produced--comment
thereon by, 47; 92; 231.
Colton, “Harry” (actor): 261.
Colville, Samuel (Am. th. man.: 1825-1886): 131; 246.
Comedy of Error,” “The: 137.
Congreve, William (Eng. dramatist: 1670-1729): 302; 330.
Conjugal Lesson,” “A (farce): 80.
Cooke, T. P.: 220.
Cooper, James: marriage of, and J. Dean, 10.
CORCORAN, KATHERINE (Mrs. James A. Herne: Am. actress: 185[8?]-19--): 180;
meeting of, and Herne, 181;
appears in “Chums,” 190;
advises B. and her husband to go East, 191;
first appearance in Chicago, 193;
performance of, in “Hearts of Oak,” 204.
“Coriolanus”: 137.
Corrigan, Emmett (Am. actor): 416.
Corsican Brothers,” “The (melod.): scene in, estimated, 128.
Couldock, Charles Walter (Eng.-Am. actor: 1815-1896): 254; 273.
County Fair,” “The (melod.): 375.
Courtaine, Henry (Am. actor): 36.
Courtaine, Mrs. Henry (Am. actress): 104.
Cowell, Sydney (Mrs. George Giddens: Eng.-Am. actress): 62.
Crane, William Henry (Am. actor and th. man.: 1845-19--): 87; 133.
Crazy Horse (Indian chief): 404.
“Creatures of Impulse” (play): 69.
Creole,” “The (B.’s version of “Article 47”): 93.
Criticism, dramatic: incompetence, the evil of, 155, _et seq._;
folly of much of contemporaneous, 151.
Croly, Vida (Am. actress): 355.
Crook, General George, U. S. A., (1828-1890): 420.
Crook, Mrs. George: relates interesting reminiscence to B., 420, _et seq._
Crow, “Jim” (negro slave): 38.
“Cupid’s Lawsuit” (farce): 176.
“Curfew Must Not Ring To-Night” (poem): 11; 44; 442.
CURSE OF CAIN,” “THE (melod.): 248;
story, 249, _et seq._;
cast of, 252.
Curtis, Maurice Bertram (Maurice Bertram Strelinger:
Am. actor: 18-- ----): 104; 295.
Custer, General George Armstrong (1839-1876): 404.
“Cymbeline”: 137.
D
“Dakolar” (melod.): 296; 311.
DALY, AUGUSTIN (Am. journalist, th. man., dramatist,
and stage man.: 1838-1899): 56; 70;
production of his “The Big Bonanza,” 80;
the same, forestalled in S. F., 82;
not to be excluded from S. F., 83; 92; 127;
begins management--his co. in S. F., 158;
acting of same described, 159; 180;
“Life” of, by his brother--and opinion of, _re_ “L’Assommoir,” 184;
produces revision of same, 185; 228; 306; 392;
fails with “Heart of Ruby,” 482.
Daly, Hon. Joseph Francis (Judge--N. Y.: 1840-1916): 184.
Danicheffs,” “The (melod.): 179.
Danites,” “The (play): 105.
“Dark Deeds” (melod.): 49.
“Darling” (melod.): 36.
DARLING OF THE GODS,” “THE (tragedy): 162; 470; 477.
Darrell, George (Australian actor and th. man.): 49; 229.
Daughter of the Nile,” “A (play): 227.
Dauvray, Helen (Am. actress and th. man.): 312; 337.
Davenport, Edward Loomis (Am. actor and th. man.: 1815-1877): 72; 153; 197.
Davenport, Louise (Mrs. William E. Sheridan: actress): 225.
“David Copperfield” (novel): B. makes dramatization of, 84.
Davis, Phœbe (Mrs. Joseph R. Grismer: Am. actress: 1864- ----): 254.
Davis, “Rellie” (actress): 261.
Dawn of Freedom,” “The (melod.): B. in, 86.
DEAN, JULIA (Hayne) (Mrs. Arthur Hayne--Mrs. James Cooper: Am. actress
and th. man.: 1830-1868): B. in
childhood, appears with--and sketch of, 7, _et seq._; 132; 164.
“Dearer than Life” (melod.): 106.
De Bar, Benedict (Eng.-Am. actor and th. man.: 1814-1877): 133.
de Belleville, Frederic (Belgian-Am, actor: 1857-19--): 382.
“Deborah” (melod.): 103.
“Delmar’s Daughter” (play): 279.
DE MILLE, HENRY CHURCHILL (Am. playwright: 1850-1893): 313; 326;
becomes collaborator with B., 327, _et seq._;
336; 337; 340; 343; 356; 373; 377; 378; 380; 383.
Denin, Kate (Mrs. John Wilson: Am. actress: 1837-1907):
acts with B. and Thorn, Sr., 86; 132.
“Denise” (melod.): 458.
Densmore, Gilbert S. (Am. journalist):
his version of “The Gilded Age”--and B.’s recollection of, 64;
Clemens on same, 65;
Raymond on, 66.
Detraction: of eminent persons, author on, 129, _et seq._
Dickens, Charles, Sr. (the novelist and dramatist: 1812-1870): 43.
Dickson, James B. (Am. th. man. and actor): 196; 251.
Dillon, John (actor): 261.
Dillon, Louise (actress): 355.
“Diplomacy” (play): 189, 237; 299.
Dithman, Edward Augustus (Am. journalist: 1854-1917): 245.
Dittenhoefer, Hon. Abram Jesse (Am. lawyer: 1836-19--): 389.
“Divorce” (play): revived in S. F., 70;
B. on same, 181.
Dockstader’s Minstrels: 375.
DOLL MASTER,” “THE (melod.): 418.
“Dombey & Son” (novel): B. makes dramatization of, 84.
“Don Cæsar de Bazan” (play): 69; 87.
Don, Laura (Anna Laura Fish--Mrs. Thomas B.
McDonough--Mrs. George W. Fox: Am. actress: died, 1886): 224;
B.’s recollection of, 225, _et seq._
“Donna Diana; or, Love’s Masque” (play): 51.
Donnelly, see Murphy, Joseph.
“Dora” (play): adapted and directed by B., 84.
Dorr, Dorothy (Mrs. H. J. W. Dam: Am. actress: 1867-19--): 349.
Douglas, Mrs. Belle (actress): 87.
Doyle, W. F. (actor): 261.
Drake, Samuel (Eng. actor: 1872-1847): grandfather of Julia Dean, 8.
Drake, Julia (Mrs. Thomas Fosdick--Mrs. Edmund
Dean--Mrs. Samuel Drake: Eng.-Am. actress): 8.
Drew, Mrs. John (Louisa Lane--Mrs. Henry Hunt--Mrs.
George Mossop: Eng.-Am. actress and th. man.: 1820-1897): 206; 207.
“Drifting Apart” (play): 198; 199.
Dudley, Mrs. Caroline: 392.
Dudley, W. C. (Am. actor): 35.
Duff, John (Am. speculative th. man.: 18-- -1889): 184.
Dunbar, James: 50.
Dunn, John (Am. actor): 131.
Dunning, Alice (Mrs. William Horace Lingard:
Eng.-Am. actress: 18-- -1897): 133.
Duret, Marie (“The Limpet”--actress): 131.
E
“Easiest Way,” “The (play): 456.
“East Lynne” (play): 7; 52; 79; 261.
Eaves, Albert G. (th. costumer): 375.
Eberle, Robert (Am. actor and stage man.): 217.
Eddy, Edward (Am. actor: 1822-1875): 193.
“Editha’s Burglar” (play): 317; 318; 365.
Edmonds, Charles (actor): 47.
Edmonds, Mrs. Charles (actress): 48.
Edouin, “Willie” (Eng. actor: 1845-1908): 135.
Edwards, Charles (actor): 69.
Edwards, Henry (Am. actor, stage man., and
naturalist: 1824-1891): 36; 135, _et seq._;
acts _Antony_, 166; 298.
Edwards, R. M. (play agent): early friend of B., 39.
Egyptian Hall, S. F.: 98; 99; 100.
EGYPTIAN MYSTERY,” “THE (illusion, etc.):
B. associated with--and described by B., 97, _et seq._
“Electra” (tragedy--of Sophocles): revival
of, under B.’s direction, 353, _et seq._
Ellsler, Effie (Am. actress): 254.
Emanuel the First, King of Portugal (1495-1521): 1.
Emery, Samuel (Eng. actor: 1818-1881): 153.
Emily, “Virgie” (actress): 261.
Emmet, J. K. (Am. actor: 1841-1891): B.
works for--and acts with, 82; 168; 192.
Emma, Queen of the Hawaiian Islands: recitation of B. and others before, 15.
Empire Theatre, N. Y.: origin of, 400, _et seq._;
opened with “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” 405.
Enchantress,” “The (musical play): revised and directed by B., 72.
“Enoch Arden” (play--on the poem): 202.
Été de St. Martin,” “L’ (comedy): 450.
Ethel, Agnes (Mrs. Francis W. Tracy--Mrs.
---- Rondebush: Am. actress: 1853-1908): 299.
Eustace, “Jennie” (actress): 349.
Evans, Charles (Am. th. man.): 436; 492.
Eviction,” “The (melod.): 227.
Ewer, Rev. Ferdinand Cartwright (1820-1883):
funeral sermon of Julia Dean preached by, etc., 10.
Eytinge, Rose (Mrs. David Barnes--Mrs. George
H. Butler--Mrs. Cyril Searle: Am. actress: 1835-1911): 53.
Eyre, Gerald (actor): 235; 237; 298.
F
Fairbank, N. K. (capitalist): agrees to “back” B. and Mrs. Carter, 385;
withdraws support and repudiates obligations,
_re_ Mrs. Carter’s tour--sued by B., 389;
defeated by B., 390;
B.’s kindly feeling toward--and admits he was “badly advised,” 391; 446.
“Fairfax” (play): 221.
Falconer, Edmund (Eng. dram.: 1815-1879): 28.
Fall of Tarquin,” “The (tragedy): 94.
Famille Benoiton!” “La (farce): adapted by B., 125.
Fast Family,” “A (farce--same as preceding): 125.
“Faust” (play): 98; 249.
“Faustus” (spectacle): B. in, 86.
Fawcett, George (Am. actor: 1860-19--): 349.
“Fazio” (tragedy): 9; 160.
“Featherbrain” (play): 336.
Fechter, Charles Albert: (French actor and
th. man.: 1824-1879): Stuart’s Park Th. opened
with performance by, 59; 69.
“Fedora” (melod.): 292.
“Fernande” (comedy): 299.
“Ferréol” (play): 355.
“Festus” (poem): 249.
Feuillet, Octave (Fr. dramatist: 1821-1890): 24; 53; 59; 63.
Field, Edward Captain: 227.
Fifth Avenue Theatre, N. Y.: the second, “The Big Bonanza,” produced at, 80.
Figaro,” “The San Francisco (th. news sheet): early notice of B. in, 28;
commendation of same in, 37.
Fire-Fly Social and Dramatic Club,” “The, of S. F.: B.’s association with, 28.
First Born,” “The (tragedy):
B. buys--and in association with C. Frohman, produces in N. Y., 447;
story of, 448, _et seq._;
cast, 450;
produced in London--forestalled there, and failure of, 451.
Fischer, Alice (Mrs. William Harcourt [King]: Am. actress: 1869-19--): 349.
Fisher, Charles (actor: 1816-1891): 204.
Fisk, James, Jr. (capitalist, etc.): 272.
Fiske, Harrison Grey (Am. journalist and th. man.: 1867-19--): 288; 289.
“Flies in the Web” (farce): 474.
Florence (Conlin), William James (Irish-Am,
actor and th. man.: 1831-1891): 133;
a delicate artist, etc., 158; 321.
Florence (Conlin), Mrs. William James (Malvina
Pray--Mrs. Joseph Littell--Mrs. George
Howard Coveny: Am. actress: 1831-1906): 133.
Flynn, Thomas (actor: 17-- -1849): the first _Rip Van Winkle_, 173.
Fool’s Revenge,” “The (tragedy): 86; 94; 222; 247.
Foote, Samuel (Eng. actor and mimic: 1720-1777): 38.
“Forbidden Fruit” (play): 57.
Ford, Harriet: 349.
“Forget Me Not” (play): 221; 231.
Forrest, Edwin (Am. actor: 1806-1872): 132; 134;
death of, as _Hamlet_, 150; 151.
Fortesque (Finney), May (Eng. actress): 313.
Forty Thieves,” “The (burlesque): 86.
Francœur, Joseph W. (actor): 252; 261.
Franks, Frederick (actor): 135.
Franks, Mrs. Frederick (actress): 135.
Frawley, Timothy Daniel (Am. actor and th. man.: 18-- -19--): 471; 472.
Frayne, Frank I. (Am. actor and th. man.: 18-- -18--): 74; 104.
Freedom of the Press,” “The (play): B. appears in, 27.
French, Samuel (’s Standard Drama): 39.
French Spy,” “The (play): 70.
FROHMAN, CHARLES (Am. speculative th. man.:
1860-1915): “Life” of--B. associated
with--and B.’s recollections of, 269,
_et seq._; 292; 311;
proposal of, to B.--same accepted--and “Men
and Women” written for, 373, _et seq._; 383;
suggests a venture with B., 395;
buys “Miss Helyett” on B.’s advice, 396;
“Life” of, 401;
relations of, with B., 421;
important letter from, to B., 422; 425;
B. adapts “The Younger Son” for, 428; 435; 447;
with B., presents “The First Born” in London, 451;
with same, presents “The Heart of Maryland” in London, 453; 454;
arranges with B. for Am. presentation of Mrs. Carter in “Zaza,” 455;
with B. presents “Zaza” in London, 484; 487.
FROHMAN, DANIEL (Am. th. man. and moving picture operative: 1853-19--): 254;
engages B. as stage manager of Mad. Sq. Th., N. Y., 260; 271; 275; 312;
engages B. as stage manager, playwright,
etc., of the Lyceum Theatre, N. Y., 313; 328; 329;
commissions B. to write a second play for Lyceum, 312; 326; 336; 340;
B.’s bargain with, _re_ use of a stage and “The Prince and the Pauper,” 366;
same repudiated, 368;
B.’s resentment of unfair treatment by--and letter to, 369;
suggests name of “The Girl I Left Behind Me” for B.’s play, 403.
FROHMAN, GUSTAVE (Am. speculative th. man. and agent: 185[1?]-19--):
associated with B., 254; 255; 260;
B. leaves S. F. in employment of, 261; 269; 281; 292.
“Frou-Frou” (play): 80.
Fyles, Franklyn (originally, Franklin Files)
(Am. journalist and playwright: 1847-1911): 401;
collaborates with B. in “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” 403; 405.
G
Gaboriau, Émile (Fr. novelist: 1833-1873): 113.
Galley Slave,” “The (melod.): 221.
Gambler’s Fate,” “The (melod.): 346.
Gamester,” “The (play): 88; 252.
Gannon, Mary (Mrs. George Stevenson: 1829-1868): 153.
Gardner, Frank (th. man, and capitalist):
B. associated with, in “The Egyptian Mystery,” etc., 97, _et seq._
Garrick, David (Eng. actor, th. man.,
and dramatist: 1716-1779): 137; 151; 154.
“Gaspardo; or, The Three Banished Men of Milan” (melod.): B. in, 86.
Gates, Daniel Virgil (actor): 131.
Gatti, Messrs. (Eng. th. man.): 451.
Gautier, Mme. Judith (Fr. dramatist): 482.
Genest, Rev. John (Eng. th. historian: 1764-1839): 163.
Giddens, George (Eng. actor: 1845-19--): 62.
Gilbert, John Gibbs (Am. actor: 1810-1889): 153; 177; 298.
Gilbert, Sir William Schwenck, kt. (Eng. dramatist and poet: 1836-1911): 313.
Gilded Age,” “The (story): Densmore’s
dramatization of, produced--and B. on, 64;
Clemens to Howells on, quoted, 65, _et seq._;
Raymond’s letter about--and Twain’s version of, 66, _et seq._;
author on worth of--and Raymond’s performance in, 67, _et seq._;
acted in N. Y., 68; 165.
Gillette, William Hooker (Am. actor and playwright:
1855-19--): 317; 337; 339; 356; 375; 387; 439; 453.
GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME,” “THE (melod.): written, 403;
excellence of--story of--and critically considered
in detail, 406, _et seq._;
produced--and Empire Th., N. Y., opened with, 405;
success of, 415;
cast of, 416; 417; 418; 419;
origin of, 420, _et seq._; 421; 422; 426; 427; 428; 432; 453.
GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST,” “THE (melod.): Puccini’s opera on B.’s play of, 75;
Sawtell engaged for, 85; 470.
Gladstane, Mary (Am. actress: 1830-18--): B.’s
admiration of--and gives prompt book to B., 79.
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von (Ger. poet: 1749-1832): 249.
Gold Demon,” “The (burlesque): B. makes hit in, 37.
Golden Era,” “The, San Francisco (newspaper): 66.
“Golden Game” (melod.): 221.
Goldsmith, Oliver (the poet, novelist, and dramatist:
1728-1774): 106; 107; 478.
Good, Brent: 336.
Goodwin, Frank L. (th. agent and man.): 243.
Gordon, Marie E. (Mrs. John T. Raymond: Am. actress): 135.
Grand Opera House, S. F.: “The Passion Play,” produced at, 115.
Granville, Gertrude (Am. actress): 74;
B. acts with, 104.
Graves, Converse (stage man.): 375.
Great Divorce Case,” “The (melod.): 252.
Great Pink Pearl,” “The (farce): 317.
Great Republic,” “The (allegory): 27; 404.
Great Ruby,” “The (melod.): 472.
Greene, Clay M. (Am. playwright: 1850-19--): 247; 295; 310; 318; 446.
Greenwall, Henry: 400.
“Griffith Gaunt” (novel): Mayo’s dramatization of--and
B. makes version of, 71.
Grismer, Joseph Rhode (Am. actor, playwright, and th. man.: 1849-19--): 224.
Grove, Florence Crawford (Eng. playwright): 231.
Gunter, Archibald Clavering (Am. novelist and playwright: 1848-1907): 311.
H
Haase, Frederick (Ger. actor: 1827-19--): 251; 252.
Hackett, James Henry (Am. actor and th. man.: 1800-1871):
effect of his acting, 155; 173.
Hager, Professor ----: B. appears in his “Allegory,” 27; 404.
Haggard, Henry Rider (Eng. novelist: 1856-19--): 337.
Halévy, Ludovic (Fr. dramatist: 1834-1908): 450.
“Hamlet”: 43; 69; 88; 138; 154; 247; 249; 252; 294.
Hamlin, John (Am. speculative th. man.): 192; 193; 194.
Happy Pair,” “A (farce): 37; 80; 177.
Harcourt, Charles (Eng. actor): acts _Paul Zegers_, 170; 171.
“Hard Cash” (novel): 257.
Hardie, J. H. (Am. actor): 35.
Harkins, Major Daniel H. (Am. soldier, actor, and th. man.: 1835-1902): 299.
Harris, Sir Augustus (Eng. actor, th. man., and playwright: 1842-1896): 227.
Harris, William (Am. th. man.: 1845-1916): 400; 401.
Harrison, Alice (Am. actress: 1852-1896): 36.
Harrison, Mrs. Burton N., Sr.: 279.
Haunted House,” “The (melod.): 98.
Haverley’s Minstrels: 260.
Hawthorne, Louise (actress): 87.
Hayes, Sarah: 225.
Hayman, Al. (Am. speculative th. man. and theatre
proprietor: 18[52?]-1917): 307; 337; 400;
loans $1,500 on $30,000 security, 437.
Hayne, Arthur (M.D.): marriage of, to J. Dean, 9.
Hayne, Robert Young (U. S. Senator: 1791-1839): 9.
“Hazel Kirke” (melod.): 254; 258.
HEART OF MARYLAND,” “THE (melod.): 370;
writing of, 392;
difficulty in getting it produced, 394; 401; 422; 423;
B. arranges to produce, in Chicago, 425; 426;
play “shelved” by death of R. M. Hooley, 427;
laid aside by B., 431;
comment by B. on experience with, 432;
accepted by Palmer, 433;
preparations to produce, 434;
Palmer forced to abandon--B.’s reminiscence of
final struggle to bring out, 436, _et seq._;
produced at last, 437;
story of--and critically considered in detail, 438, _et seq._;
cast of, 444;
first tour of, 446;
B. buys out partner’s interest in--and presents in S. F., 447;
B. and C. Frohman arrange to present, in London, 451;
profits from--and third season of, ended, 452;
presented in London--success of, there and long
run of--_re_ mechanical effects in, 453, _et seq._
Heart of Midlothian,” “The (novel): Boucicault’s dramatization of, 64.
“Heart of Ruby” (tragedy): exquisite production of,
by Daly--and a failure, 482.
“HEARTS OF OAK” (“Chums”--play): B. projects, 188;
writes, with Herne, 189;
produced--and fails, 190;
taken “on tour,” 191; 192;
produced in Chicago--and succeeds, 193;
suit about, 195;
brought to N. Y., 196; 198;
author at first N. Y. performance of--story of,
etc., critically considered in detail, 201, _et seq._;
B.’s interest in, bought, 206, _et seq._; 209; 236; 268.
Heine, Heinrich (the poet: 1797-1856): 166.
“Held by the Enemy” (melod.): 439.
“Help” (melod.): B. acts in, 34; 35; 49.
Hemans, Felicia Dorothea (Eng. poet: 1793-1835): 11.
Henderson, Alexander (Eng. th. man.: 1829-1886): 167.
Henderson, David (Am. journalist and th. man.): 335.
Henderson, Grace (Mrs. David Henderson): beauty and talent of, 351; 360.
Henley, Edward J. (Eng. actor: 1862-1898): 427.
Henrietta,” “The (comedy): 375.
“Her Atonement” (melod.): 348.
HERNE, JAMES A[LFRED] (James Ahearn: Am. actor,
playwright, and stage manager: 1839-1902): 70;
acts _Rip Van Winkle_--and _Solon Shingle_, 71;
acts _Bambuno_--and
_Sikes_--version of “Charles O’Malley” by--and in “The Sphinx,” 72;
at Baldwin’s A. of M., 87;
B. on, as _Rip_, 168;
as _Rip_--and inferior to Jefferson, 176;
with B., writes play for R. Coghlan, 179;
plan of, to go East, 180;
meeting with future wife, 181;
bft. to, and B., 182; 183;
with B., writes “Chums,” 189; 191;
goes East with wife and B., 191, _et seq._;
unjust complaint of, to B., 195;
birth--and sketch of his life, 197, _et seq._;
principal plays of, 198;
share of, in making “Hearts of Oak,” 199;
death of, 201; 205;
unjust treatment of B. by, 207; 208.
Heron, Matilda (Mrs. Henry Herbert Byrne--Mrs.
Robert Stoepel: Am. actress: 1830-1877): 132; 151.
Hidden Hand,” “The (novel): B.’s dramatization of, 103.
HIGHEST BIDDER,” “THE (farcical comedy): B. makes, 314, _et seq._;
cast of, 316; 321; 325; 432.
Hill, Charles John Barton (Am. actor, playwright,
th. man. and stage man.: 1830-1911): acts _Mercutio_ with Neilson, 63;
employs B. at Calif. Th., 69; 92;
gives trial to Modjeska, 101, _et seq._; 133; 218.
Hill, James M. (Am. th. man.): B. employed to
write play for, etc., 111, _et seq._; 400.
Hill, Richard: 400.
Hinckley, George (Am. actor): 35; 62.
Hinckley, “Sallie” (Am. actress): 35;
in “The New Magdalen,” 69; 74; 133.
Hoey, Mrs. John (Am. actress): 153.
Hoitt, Dr. Ira G. (educator): 11.
Holbrook, Mrs. “Nelly” (Am. actress and dram. teacher): 11.
Holmes, E. B.: 135.
Holmes, Dr. Oliver Wendell (the poet, etc.: 1809-1894): 287.
Honeymoon,” “The (comedy): 32.
Hood, Thomas (the poet: 1799-1845): 43.
Hooley, Richard Martin (Am. th. man.: 1822-1898): 80;
his th. co. in S. F.--B.’s interest in, 81;
success of “Ultimo” produced by, 82; 191;
rejects “Chums,” 192; 425;
B. arranges with, for production of “The Heart of Maryland,” 426;
death of, 427.
Hopper, De Wolf (Am. actor: 1858-19--): 290.
Howells, William Dean (Am. novelist and playwright:
1837-19--): letter to, by Clemens _re_ “The Gilded Age,” 65.
Howard, Bronson (Am. dramatist: 1843-1908): 125; 244;
his opinion of “La Belle Russe,” etc., 245;
recognition of, helps B., 279; 328;
influence of his example, 329; 373; 439.
Hunchback,” “The (comedy): Julia Dean remembered in, 8;
performance of same in, perfection, 9; 63; 372.
Hurlburt, Alvin (hotel keeper): 192.
I
“Ici on Parle Français” (farce): 36.
Illustrious Stranger,” “The (play): B. in, 37.
Ince, Annette (Am. actress): acts _Nancy_, in “Oliver Twist,” 72; 135.
Ingoldsby, Thomas (Richard Harris Barham: Eng. poet: 1788-1845): 43.
“Ingomar” (play): 372.
“In Spite of All” (melod.): 311.
“Ireland and America” (melod.): 49.
“Ireland As It Was” (play): 50.
Irving, Sir Henry, kt. (John Henry Brodribb: Eng.
actor, th. man., and stage man.: 1838-1905): 140; 168; 170; 171; 222;
his revival of “K. Louis XI.,” 223;
performance in, 224.
Irving, Washington (Am. man. of letters: 1783-1859): 169; 175.
Isherwood, William (actor): 173.
“Itinerant,” Ryley’s (dram. biography): 40.
“Ixion; or, The Man at the Wheel” (burlesque): 177.
J
Jackson, Hart (Am. playwright: died, 1882): 300.
James [Belasco], David (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1839-1893): uncle of B., 6.
James, Louis (Am. actor: 1843-1910): 87; 89.
James, Miss (school teacher): 11.
“Jane Shore” (melod.): 458.
Jarrett & Palmer (Am. th. managers): bring G. Rignold to Am., 90;
dissension between, and same--their transcontinental express train, 91.
Jealous Wife,” “The (play): 52; 160.
Jefferson, Elizabeth (Mrs. Samuel Chapman--Mrs.
Augustus Richardson--Mrs. Charles J. B. Fisher:
Am. actress: 1810-1890): 153.
Jefferson, Mrs. Joseph (wife of the third J. J.--Cornelia Frances
Thomas--Mrs. Thomas Burke: Am. actress:
1796-1849: mother of J. J., 1829-1905): 153.
JEFFERSON, JOSEPH (the fourth: Am. actor, playwright,
and stage manager: 1829-1905): effect of, as _Rip_, 69; 155;
B. on his _Rip_, 168;
and as _Rip Van Winkle_, 172, _et seq._;
Herne impressed by, and emulative of, 200.
Jeffreys-Lewis, Mary (Eng.-Am. actress: 18-- -19--): 70; 230; 238; 242.
“Jesse Brown; or, The Relief of Lucknow” (melod.) : 412; 419.
Jerome, Jerome Klapka (Eng. author and playwright: 1859-19--):
Jibbenainosay,” “The (melod.): B. appears in, with J. Proctor, 26.
“Jim Black; or, The Regulator’s Revenge”: first(?) play by B., 13.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel (Eng. dramatist and man of
letters: 1709-1784): quoted, _re_ accuracy, 23; 306.
“Jones’s Baby” (farce): 60.
Jones, Frank (actor): B. acts with, 86.
Judah, Mrs. Emanuel (Marietta Starfield--Mrs.
John Torrence: Am. actress: 1829-1883): 131; 135.
“Julius Cæsar”: Montgomery, Barrett, McCullough, etc., in cast of, 42; 43;
Booth, McCullough, etc., in, at Calif. Th., 94.
K
Kaffir Diamond,” “The (melod.): revised by
B.--contents and quality of, 345, _et seq._;
cast of, 347; 353.
“Katharine and Petruchio”: 137.
Kean, Charles John (Eng. actor, th. man.,
and stage man.: 1811-1868): farewell tour
of--and B. appears with, in childhood, 10;
the same, 26; 132; 164.
Kean, Edmund (Eng. actor: 1787-1833): 40;
“quiet acting” of, 154.
Keene, Laura (Lee?--May Moss?--Mrs. John
Taylor--Mrs. John Lutz: Am. actress
and th. man.: 1820-1873): 153; 172.
Keene, Thomas W. (Am. actor: 18-- -18--): 94, 95;
and B., acts in Petaluma, 103.
Keepers of Lighthouse Cliff,” “The (“The Lighthouse Cliff”: melod.): 200.
Kelcey (Lamb), Herbert (Eng.-Am. actor: 1856-1917): 335;
performance of, in “The Charity Ball,” 360.
Kellerd, John (Am. actor: 1863-19--): 444.
Kemble, Ella: acts _Rose Maylie_, 72.
Kemble, John Philip (Eng. actor, th. man., and dramatist: 1757-1823): 151.
“Kenilworth” (burlesque): 90.
Kennedy, Michael A. (actor): 87;
B. acts in bft. for, 90; 261.
“Kerry” (play): 59.
Kimball, Grace: 349.
King, Charles A. (th. man.): 131.
King, H. (actor): 135.
“King Henry V.”: Rignold in, 90;
Barrett in, 91;
Calvert’s presentment of, 92.
“King Henry VIII.”: 43.
“King John”: 43; 44; 137; 247.
“King Lear”: 88; 137.
“King Louis XI.” (tragedy): 222; 223.
King of the Opium Ring,” “The (melod.): 346.
“King Richard III.”: B., in childhood, appears in, with C. Kean, 10;
the same, 26; 43;
horseback combat in, 79;
Baldwin’s A. of M. opened with, 87; 88; 100; 137; 249; 348.
Kingsley, Walter (circus clown): befriends B., 5;
dies; his name adopted by B., 25;
same, 217.
Kingsley, Walter: adopted name of David Belasco, _q.v._
Kiss in the Dark,” “A (farce): 37.
Klaw & Erlanger (th. booking agents and speculative th. managers): 427.
Knight, George (George Washington Sloan: Am.
actor: 1850-1892): 321, _et seq._;
failure of, in “Baron Rudolph” (“Only a Tramp”)--and death of, 325.
Knowles, James Sheridan (Eng. actor, dramatist,
and preacher: 1783-1862): 9; 327.
Knowlton, Prof. Ebenezer (school teacher and public reader): 11.
Kotzebue, Augustus Frederick Ferdinand von (German dramatist: 1762-1819): 7.
Krehbiel, Henry Edward (Am. critic of music: 1854-19--):
quoted, _re_ “Madame Butterfly,” 490, _et seq._
L
“Lady Madge” (play): 71.
Lady of Lyons,” “The (comedy): first Am. appearance of
Mary Wells made in, 23; 46; 63; 69; 103; 209; 309.
Lamont, “Jennie” (actress): 261.
Lander, Jean Davenport (Mrs. Frederick West Lander:
Eng.-Am. actress: 1829-1903): 133.
Lawlor, Frank (actor): 131.
“Leah the Forsaken” (melod.): 202; 228; 261.
“Leatherstocking” (play): 92.
Leclercq, Carlotta (Mrs. John Nelson: Eng. actress: 1838-1893): 133.
“Led Astray” (play): first produced--B.’s reminiscence of,
etc., 53, _et seq._; 54; 55; 56; 57;
author on, when first produced, 59; 61; 63.
Legion of Honor,” “The (play): 217.
Leighton, Adele (histrionic novice): 71.
Lemon, E. F. (boyhood friend of B.): letter from, 14.
Le Moyne, William J. (Am. actor: 1831-1905): 286; 335; 476.
“Leonor de Guzman” (play): 9.
Le Roy, James H. (actor, stage man., and playwright):
employs B.--and makes dramatization
of “The New Magdalen” at suggestion of same, 46, _et seq._; 71; 231.
Leslie (Lyde), Elsie (Mrs. [William] Jefferson Winter:
Am. actress: 1880-19--): developed by B.--eminence of, 317;
success of, in “Little Lord Fauntleroy”--and suggests
dual appearance in “The Prince and the
Pauper”--that suggestion adopted, 367;
B.’s opinion of, 367.
Leslie, Henry (Eng. dramatist: 1829-1881): 193; 199.
Lever, Charles James (Irish novelist: 1806-1872): 72.
Lewis, Leopold (Eng. playwright): 172.
Lewis, Matthew Gregory (poet: 1775-1818): 11; 15.
“Liberty Hall” (play): 424; 428; 430.
Lincoln, Abraham (President U. S. A.: 1809-1865): death of, m., 13; 164.
Lincoln Grammar School, the, in S. F.: B. a pupil at, 11; 12;
B. at, 14; 23; 26; 27.
Life’s Revenge; or, Two Loves for One Heart,” “A (melod.): B. acts in, 28.
Lights o’ London,” “The (melod.): 250.
“Lillian’s Lost Love” (play): 129.
Lindsay, ---- (actor): acts _Fagin_, 72.
Lingard Combination,” “The: 24;
acts “La Tentation” in S. F., 63.
Lingard, William Horace (actor): employs B., 68; 133.
Lion_ess_ of Nubia,” “The: no such play exists, 23.
Lion of Nubia,” “The (play): B.’s first formal appearance
on stage made in, 24.
Lipsis, “Carrie” (actress): 35.
“Little Don Giovanni; or, Leperello and the Stone Statue” (burlesque): 36; 37.
“Little Em’ly” (play): 92; 202.
Little Hero,” “The (“The Stowaway”--poem): effect of
McCullough’s recitation of, on B., 17, _et seq._
“Little Jim, the Collier’s Lad” (poem): recital of, to music, by B., 99.
“Little Katy; or, The Hot Corn Girl” (melod.): 49.
“Little Lord Fauntleroy” (play): Elsie Leslie in, 365.
Lone Pine,” “The (play): 108; B. rewrites for D. Thompson,
etc., 111, _et seq._
Lonely Man of the Ocean,” “The (melod.): 346.
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth (the poet: 1807-1882):
monition of, to author, 370.
Long, John Luther (Am. novelist and playwright: 1861-19--): 477.
Long Strike,” “The (melod.): 100.
“LORD CHUMLEY” (comedy): 432;
written for Sothern, 340;
Sothern dissatisfied with--and production of, 341;
quality, and story of, 342;
B.’s recollections of its origin, 343;
performance and success of, 344;
cost of, 345.
“Lost in London” (melod.): prompt book of, by B., 84.
LOTTA (Charlotte Mignon Crabtree: Am. actress: 184[5?]-19--): as
_Fire-Fly_ in “Under Two Flags”--and
S. F. amateur’s society named for, 28; 133; 188; 189;
“Pawn Ticket 210” written for--and success of, in same, 317, _et seq._;
sensible view of “criticism,” 320.
Loverich, Cecilia: see Belasco, Mrs. David.
“Love’s Penance” (play): Stuart’s Park Th. opened with, 59; 69.
“Love’s Sacrifice” (play): 9.
“Lucretia Borgia” (play): 52.
Lyons Mail,” “The (melod.): 222.
Lyster, Frederick: B. acts with, at Shiels’ O. H., 49; 110.
Mc--M
McCabe, James H. (old-time actor and th. agent):
early friendship of, with B., 39; 71; 130.
McCarthy, Justin Huntly, Jr. (Irish-Eng. dramatist
and novelist: 1860-19--): 482.
MCCULLOUGH, JOHN EDWARD (Irish-Am. actor and
th. man.: 1832-1885): his recitation of
“The Little Hero”--and effect of same on
B., 17, _et seq._; 42; 92; 95;
approves Modjeska and engages her, 102;
first appearance of, in S. F., 134; 136;
feeling between, and L. Barrett, 165;
acts in “J. C.” with Barrett and Montgomery, 167.
McDonough, Thomas B. (th. agent and man.): 226.
McDowell, Gen. Irwin: 227.
McDowell, Henry B.: 227.
McGuire, Father (Roman Catholic priest):
takes B., in childhood, to dwell with him, 4; 5.
McGuire, J. C. (Am. actor): 35.
McVicker, James Horace (Am. th. man.: 1822-1896): 191.
McWade, Robert (actor): as _Rip_, 168; 176.
Macaulay, Thomas Babington, first Lord (the historian, etc.: 1800-1859): 3.
“Macbeth”: 88; 249.
Mackaye, Frank F---- (Am. actor: 1832-19--):
letter from, on behalf N. Y. Union Square Th. Co., to B., 106; 261;
another letter from, to B., 262.
MACKAYE, JAMES STEELE (Am. actor, th. man.,
playwright, inventor, etc.: 1842-1894): 272; 273; 274; 292; 295;
a friend of author--and reads play to, etc., 296, _et seq._; 297; 311; 348.
Macready, William Charles (Eng. actor, th. man.,
and stage man.: 1793-1873): 96; 151;
“quiet acting” of, 154.
“Mme. l’Archiduc” (opera): 88.
“MADAME BUTTERFLY” (story): 476;
B. reads--and bases a dramatic tragedy on--the
same critically considered in detail, 477, _et seq._;
unique feature in performance of, 480;
B. produces--and success of, 482;
B. Bates’ performance in and original cast of, 483;
B. takes to London, 486;
with C. Frohman, produces it there--and profound
impression created--London cast of, 487;
great tribute to B. by audience at first London
performance of--and B.’s account of, 488;
B. gives operatic rights of to Puccini--and
Puccini’s opera of, commented on, 489, _et seq._;
cast of, as opera, 490; 491; 492.
MADISON SQUARE THEATRE, N. Y.: 158;
account of, 271, _et seq._
Magistrate,” “The (farcical comedy): 73.
Maguire, Thomas (Calif, th. man.: died, 1896):
built the O. H. in Virginia City, Nev. (Piper’s), 50;
B. employed by, as secretary, 70;
associated with E. J. Baldwin in building and
managing Baldwin’s A. of M., S. F., 87; 105; 113;
withdraws “The Passion Play”--and revives same, 117; 176;
engages R. Coghlan, 177; 178;
dissension between, and Baldwin, 183; 185; 191; 228; 241;
harsh treatment of B. by, 242; 243; 244;
loses Baldwin Theatre, S. F., 253.
Maguire’s New Theatre, S. F. (previously the Alhambra): opened, 69.
Maiden’s Prayer,” “The (poem): recital of, to music, by B., 99.
Main Line; or, Rawson’s Y.,” “The (play): 313.
Mallory, Dr. George (clergyman, editor, and th.
man.: 18-- -18--): 112; 273, _et seq._
Mallory, Marshall H. (Am. th. man.): 207.
Malone, John T. (Am. actor: 1854-1906): 218, _et seq._; 273, _et seq._
“Man and Wife” (novel): play made on, 49.
Mandeville, “Jennie” (actress): 35.
Maniac,” “The (poem): 11; 15; 20; 25; 26; 44;
recited by B. to music, 99
“Mankind” (melod.): 250.
Mansfield, Richard (Am. actor: 1854-1907): 312.
Mantell, Robert Bruce (Scotch-Am, actor: 1853-19--): 196; 291; 292; 309.
Marble Heart,” “The (play): 46; 309.
Marble, John Edward (Am. actor and th. man.: 18-- -18--): 135.
Marchande de Sourires,” “La (play): 482.
“Margaret Fleming” (play): 198;
quality of--and incident in, 199.
Mariner’s Compass,” “The (melod.): 193; 194; 195; 198; 205.
Marlowe, Julia (Sarah Frances Frost--“Fanny Brough”--Mrs.
Robert Taber--Mrs. Edward Hugh Sothern: Am. actress: 1867-19--): 470.
Marlowe, Owen (Eng. actor: 1830-1876): 36.
Marquis,” “The (play): 355.
Marsden, Frederick G. (Am. playwright): 34.
Marston, John Westland (Eng. dramatist: 1820-1890): 51.
“Mary Stuart” (play): 52.
“Mary Warner” (play): 261.
Mason, John Belcher (Am. actor: 1858-19--): 162.
Massey, Rose (burlesque actress: died, 1883): 166.
Match for a King,” “A (play): 87.
Matthison, Arthur (Eng. journalist and dramatist: 1826-1883): 17.
“Maum Cre” (melod.): B. acts in, with Murphy, 49.
“May Blossom” (play): 112; production--account of--contents
and performance, 280, _et seq._;
cast, 290; 432.
Mayer, Marcus (th. agent: 18-- -1918): 208.
Mayhew, “Katie” (Mrs. Henry Widmer: Am. actress): 87; 96.
Maynard, Cora: 349.
Mayo, Frank (Am. actor and th. man.: 1840-1896): version
of “Griffith Gaunt” by, 71; 132; 168.
Meilhac, Henri (Fr. dramatist: 1831-1897): 450.
Melville, Emilie (Am. actress): 135.
Melville, Julia (Am. actress and teacher): 181.
“Memoirs of Tate Wilkinson”: 40.
“MEN AND WOMEN” (melod.): written on order for C.
Frohman--and account of same, 373;
quality, and story, of, 377, _et seq._;
production and success of--cast of, 381;
moral doctrine of B. revealed in, 382; 383; 432.
Merchant of Venice,” “The: 64; 137; 139.
Merivale, Herman (Eng. dramatist: 1839-1906): 231.
Merritt, Paul (Eng. playwright: died, 1895): 227; 258.
Mestayer, William A. (Am. actor: 1844-1896): 132; 229.
Methua-Scheller, Mme. Marie (Mrs. J. G. Methua:
Ger.-Am. actress: 18-- -1878): acts in S. F. in
“The Roll of the Drum,” 13;
B. appears in S. F. with, in “Under the Gas-Light,” 26.
Metropolitan Th., S. F.: B.’s first appearance made at, 24;
reopened under management of Woodard, 35;
last regular performance at, 46.
Meux, Lady Valerie Susie (Langdon): invites B. to
direct Mrs. C. U. Potter, 492;
offers to build theatre for B.--and both her
proposals declined by same, 493.
Mexican Tigress,” “The (play): 49.
“Mazeppa” (spectacle): 70.
Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “A: 137.
Miles, Lieut-General Nelson Appleton (1839-19--): 405.
Millard, Evelyn (Mrs. Robert Porter Coulter: Eng. actress: 1873-19--): 487.
Miller, Cincinnatus Heine (Joaquin Miller) (Am. poet,
playwright, etc.: 1841-1913): 105.
Miller, Henry John (Am. actor, th. man.: 1860-19--): 335.
MILLIONAIRE’S DAUGHTER,” “THE (play): inspiration
of--and setting for principal scene in, 125;
gist of--and cast, 127;
compared with “The Banker’s Daughter”--similar scene in, 128; 176; 328.
Milton, John (the poet: 1609-1674): 120.
Millward, “Jessie” (Eng. actress: 1861-19--): 291.
“Mimi” (play): 53;
produced in S. F., 61.
Miser’s Daughter,” “The (melod.): B. in, 86.
“Miss Decima” (farce with music): 398.
See also “Miss Helyett.”
“MISS HELYETT” (farce with music): rewritten
by B.--produced--story, and performance, of, 397, _et seq._;
cast of, 399; 421; 422.
“Miss Hobbs” (comedy): 437.
Modjeska, Mme. Helena (Helen Opid--Mrs. Gustave S.
Modrzejewska--Mrs. Charles [Karol] Bozenta Chlapowska:
Polish-Am. actress: 1840-1909): settles in
Calif.--forced to return to stage, 100;
obtains hearing by B. Hill--and author’s account of same, 101;
approved by McCullough,
102;
B. sees first Am. performance of, 103; 133; 151; 309.
Molière, Jean-Baptiste Poquelin de (Fr. actor, th.
man., and dramatist: 1712-1763): 157; 330.
Montague, Winnetta (Leleah Burphé Bigelow--Mrs.
Arnold W. Taylor: died, 1877): 96;
marriage of, and W. Montgomery--death of, 167.
MONTGOMERY, WALTER (Richard Tomlinson: Am. actor: 1827-1871):
B.’s early admiration of--extraordinary performance of,
supported by Barrett, McCullough, etc.--and last
appearances in Calif., 42;
programmes of his “Royal Recitals,” 43; 95; 130; 132; 164; 165;
not enamoured of R. Massey, 166;
marriage and suicide of, 167.
Montrose, James Graham, Marquess of (1612-1650): philosophy of, 371.
MOONLIGHT MARRIAGE,” “THE (play): 179;
produced, and cast of, 180; 182; 185.
Moore, “Maggie” (Mrs. James Cassius Williamson:
Am.-Australian actress): 107; 182.
“Mora” (play): produced in N. Y., 58.
“More Blunders than One” (farce): 49.
Mordant, Frank (Am. actor: 1841-19--): 382;
fine performance by, 415.
Mordaunt, Marian (Mrs. ---- Strickland: Am. actress): B. acts in bft. for, 36.
Moreto, Augustin (Spanish dramatist: 1618-1661): 51.
Morning Call,” “A (farce): 36.
Morse, Salmi (Samuel Moss: Ger.-Am. playwright:
1826-1883): his “Passion Play,” 114, _et seq._;
reads same to author and others, 117;
same--and on his purpose in writing, 120;
his “Temple Theatre,” 374; 375.
Morris, Clara (Clara Morrison, Mrs. Frederick C. Harriott: Can.-Am.
actress and writer: 1848-19--): first appearance
of, in S. F., directed by B., 108.
Morris, William (Am. actor: 1861-19--): 382.
Morrison, Lewis (Am. actor and th. man.: 1845-1906):
acts _Romeo_ with A. Neilson, 63; 110; 132; 178; 179; 189.
Morrison, Hon. Robert Francis (Judge--in S. F.): 117.
Morrison, R. W. (lawyer): 388.
Morton, John Maddison (Eng. dramatist: 1811-1891): 313.
Moser, Gustav von (Ger. dramatist: 1825-1903): 80.
“Moths” (novel): dramatization of, 30.
“Mr. and Mrs. Peter White” (entertainment): 69; 80.
“Much Ado About Nothing”: 137.
Murdock, Frank (Am. actor and playwright): 200.
Murdock, James Edward (Am. actor: 1813-1893): 132.
Murphy (Donnelly), Joseph (Am. “negro minstrel” and
actor: 1832-1915): Belasco acts with, in “Help,” 34; 35;
B. acts with, at Shiels’ O. H., in various plays, 49.
“Musette” (play): 188.
MUSIC MASTER,” “THE (play): 139.
“My Neighbor’s Wife” (farce): 474.
“My Partner” (play): 348.
MYSTERIOUS INN,” “THE (melod.): 98.
“My Turn Next” (farce): 103.
N
“Nancy & Co.” (farce): 306.
“Natural” acting: early great exemplars of, 153.
“NAUGHTY ANTHONY” (farce): 113; 469;
first production--and in N. Y.--contents and quality of, 473; 474;
serious purpose of B. in--and performances in, 475;
comment on, 476; 491.
NEILSON, LILIAN ADELAIDE (Elizabeth Ann Bland--Mrs.
Philip Lee: Eng. actress: 184[6?]-1880): her
first S. F. engagement--B.
appears with, during, 63; 133; 209;
her farewell engagement, 210;
last appearance of--and B.’s reminiscence of, 211, _et seq._; 214.
Newstader, Rabbi: marries B. and Cecilia Loverich: 45.
New Babylon,” “The (melod.): 125.
New Magdalen,” “The (novel): Le Roy’s version of, 46;
Collins’ characterization of dramatizations--Bella
Pateman acts in--Collins’ dramatization of,
produced, 47; 48; 84; 231; 254.
New Way to Pay Old Debts,” “A (tragedy): 87; 222; 224.
“Nick o’ the Woods” (“The Jibbenainosay,” _q.v._--melod.): 69.
Nickenson, John (Can. actor): 157.
Night Off,” “A (farce): 306.
Night Session,” “A (farce): 450.
“Ninon” (play): 221.
“Nita; or, Woman’s Constancy” (melod.): 70.
“Nordeck” (melod.): 312.
Norton, “Emperor”: mimicry of, by B., 37; 38.
“NOT GUILTY” (melod.): B.’s version of, produced in
S. F.--cast--success of--and B.’s reminiscences of, 109; 453.
“Not Such a Fool as He Looks” (comedy): 343.
“Notre Dame”: Wheatleigh’s dramatization of, 69.
Nunnemacher, Jacob (th. man.): 196.
O
Oates, Mrs. James A. (Alice Merritt: singer and th.
man.: 1849-1887): her opera co. at Baldwin’s A. of M., 88.
Octoroon,” “The (play): B.’s alteration of, 106; 254;
revived by B. and G. Frohman--cast of, 255, _et seq._; 257; 261.
Ohnet, Georges (French novelist and dramatist: 1848-19--): 296.
“Olivia” (play): produced, 106;
cast of--and contents, 107.
“Oliver Twist” (play): revival of, by Herne, etc., 72; 198; 372; 390.
“One Hundred Years Old” (play): 105.
“One of Our Girls” (comedy): 312.
O’Neill, James (Irish-Am, actor: 1849-19--): 85;
succeeds Cathcart as _Richmond_, 88; 105;
success of, in “Proof Positive,” 108; 114;
impersonates _Jesus Christ_, in “Passion Play,” 115;
arrested and imprisoned, 117;
fined, 118; 123;
B.’s opinion of his _Jesus Christ_, 125; 132;
178; 179; 180; 186; 188; 190; 473.
“One Thousand Milliners” (farce): 90.
“Only a Tramp” (melod.): 321;
failure of, 325;
cast of, 326.
See also “Baron Rudolph.”
Osborne, George (actor): 261.
“Othello”: 137; 247; 249; 332.
“Ouida” (Mlle. Louise de la Ramée: Eng. novelist:
1839-1908): her “Under Two Flags,” mentioned, 28; 308.
“Our American Cousin” (play): 51.
“Our Boys” (comedy): 261.
“OUR MYSTERIOUS BOARDING HOUSE” (farce): 98.
“Ours” (play): 180.
“Out at Sea” (melod.): 49.
Owens, John Edmond (Am. actor and th. man.:
1823-1886): B.’s recollections of--and
same writes a play for, etc., 78; 132; 153.
P(Q)
Paine, Albert Bigelow (Am. author and ed.:
1861-19--): his “Mark Twain, a Biography,” quoted, 65.
PALMER, ALBERT MARSHALL (Am. th. man.: 1839-1905): 55; 56; 126; 128; 129;
friction with B., 293; 294;
B. negotiates with, 368;
places theatres at disposal of B., for rehearsals, 369;
agrees to produce “The Heart of Maryland,” 432;
forced to abandon that project, 435.
Palmer, “Minnie” (Mrs. Daniel Edward Bandmann: actress): 133.
“Paradise Lost”: 120.
Park Theatre, N. Y.: “The Gilded Age” at, 68.
Parlor Match,” “A (farce): 436.
Parts, dramatic: all sorts of, played by B., 137;
list of more than 170 of B.’s, 140, _et seq._
Partridge, William Ordway (Am. sculptor: 1861-19--): 349.
PASSION PLAY,” “THE (Morse’s): produced in S.
F.--and examination and account of, 114, _et seq._
Pateman, Bella (Mrs. Robert Pateman: actress:
1844-1908): first appearance of, in S. F., 46;
“The New Magdalen” dramatized for, at B.’s suggestion, 47;
estimates of, as actress, 48.
“PAUL ARNIFF” (melod.): 214; 215;
cast of, 216.
Paul, Logan (actor): 261.
“Pauline” (play): B. appears in, with the Keans, 10.
“PAWN TICKET 210” (melod.): written for Lotta--produced, etc., 317, _et seq._;
cast of, 320.
Pearson, A. Y. (th. man.: 186[2?]-1903): 400.
Pell, Katie (actress): 74.
People’s Lawyer,” “The (play): 78; 103.
“Peril; or, Love at Long Branch” (play): 81.
PERSECUTED TRAVELLER,” “THE (farce): 98.
Pettitt, Henry (Eng. playwright: 1848-1893): 227; 258.
Phelps, Charles (M.D.: 18-- -19--): 120.
Phelps, Fanny Morgan (actress): 74; 97.
Phillips, Watts (Eng. dramatist: 1829-1874): 108; 110; 179.
Piatt, Don (Am. writer): on _Rip_ and _Fanchon_, 169.
Piercy, Samuel W. (Am. actor and playwright:
18-- -1882): death of--and B.’s admiration for, 69; 217.
Pilar-Morin, Mile. ---- (Fr. actress): 492.
Pinero, Sir Arthur Wing (kt., cr., 1909: Eng.
actor and dramatist: 1855-19--): 73; 246; 344.
“Pink Dominos” (farce): 189.
Piper, John (Ger.-Am. th. man.: 1830-1897): engages B., 50;
B.’s experiences under management of, 51, _et seq._;
his stock co., 62;
B. freed from, 63.
Piper, Mrs. John: B.’s painful experience with, 62.
Piper’s Opera House, Virginia City: particulars about--and B. engaged at, 50.
Pixley [Shea], Annie (Mrs. Robert Fulford: Am. actress: 1858-1893): 74.
“Pizarro” (play): 6;
in J. Dean’s repertory, 7.
Placide, Henry (Am. actor: 1800-1870): 153.
Platt, George Foster: 349.
“Playing with Fire” (farcical comedy): 474.
Plays: altered and adopted by B.--and Mrs.
Bates on B.’s felicity in such work, 84;
acted in by B.--more than 170 enumerated, 141, _et seq._
“Pluto” (burlesque): 37.
Plympton, Eben (Am. actor: 1853-1915): 132; 312.
Poe, Edgar Allan (the poet, etc.: 1809-1849): 43.
Polish Jew,” “The (play): 171.
Pond, Anson (Am. playwright): 348.
Ponisi, Mme. James (Elizabeth Hanson--Mrs. Samuel
Wallis: Eng.-Am. actress: 1818-1899): 177; 298.
Poole, Mrs. ---- (actress): 132.
“Poor Richard’s Almanac”: 4.
Post of Honor,” “The (play): 106.
Potter, Mrs. James Brown (Cora Urquhart: Am.-Eng.
actress and th. man.: 1859-19--); 492; 493.
Potter, Paul Meredith (Am. journalist and playwright: 1853-19--): 383; 433.
Potter, John S. (th. man.): 131.
Powers, Francis (Am. actor and playwright): 447; 448.
Powers, “Harry” (Am. th. business ag’t.): 426; 427.
Prescott, Marie (Am. actress: died, 1893): 242.
Pretty Housebreaker,” “The (play): 70.
Price, Edward D. (Am. th. agent): 383.
Price, “Lizzie” V. (Mrs. W. Wintle--Mrs. Charles
Albert Fechter: Am. actress: 18-- -18--): 69.
“Priestess” (play): 9.
Prince and the Pauper,” “The (novel): play on, suggested by Elsie Leslie, 365;
B. revises same, when made, 366;
B. rehearses--and is successfully produced, 367; 368.
Proctor, F. F. (Am. man. of varieties theatres): 373; 375.
Proctor, Joseph B. (Am. actor and th. man.:
1816-1897): B. appears with, in “The Jibbenainosay,” 26.
PRODIGAL’S RETURN,” “THE (play): 98.
“PROOF POSITIVE” (play): B. makes, for R. Wood, 108.
Puccini, Giacomo (Italian musical composer: 1858-19--): 75; 488;
B. gives him operatic rights of “Madame Butterfly,” 489;
his opera of “Madama Butterfly” considered, 490, _et seq._
R
“Raising the Wind” (farce): 32.
Rajah; or, Wyndcot’s Ward,” “The (play): 279; 280.
Raleigh, Cecil (Eng. playwright): 317.
Raven,” “The (poem): 43.
RAYMOND (O’Brien), JOHN T. (Irish-Am,
actor: 1836-1887): appears in S. F. in “Led Astray,” 63;
first produces Densmore’s version of
“The Gilded Age”--and B.’s recollections of, 64;
B.’s account of not accurate, 65;
his performance of _Colonel Sellers_, 68; 135; 168.
Rea, Frank (actor): 24; 35.
Rea, Mrs. Frank (actress): 35.
Reade, Charles (Eng. novelist, dramatist,
and th. man.: 1815-1884): Mayo’s version of
his “Griffith Gaunt,” 71; 185; 257.
Reece, Robert (Eng. dramatist: 1838-1891): 313.
Rehan, Ada (Ada Crehan: Irish-Am. actress:
1860-1916): first appearance of, under Daly, 185; 307; 392; 470.
“Rev. Griffith Davenport” (melod.): derivation of, 199.
Rice, Edward E. (Am. th. man.: 18---18--): 196.
Rice, Thomas D. (Am. “negro minstrel”: 1808-1860): 38.
Rice, Isaac B. (Am. th. man.: 1827-1908): 337; 387.
Rich & Harris (th. man’s.): 401.
Richardson, Samuel (Eng. novelist: 1689-1761): 3.
“Richelieu” (play): 94; 247.
Riddle, Eliza (Mrs. William Henry Sedley-Smith: 180[8?]-1861: actress): 32.
Rignold, George (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1838-1912):
acts _King Henry the Fifth_ in S. F.--brought
to Am. by Jarrett & Palmer, 90; 91; 133.
“Rip Van Winkle” (play): Herne’s version of, 70;
same, 182; 202.
Rising Moon,” “The (melod.): 49.
Road to Ruin,” “The (comedy): 29.
Robe, Annie (Am. actress): 298; 302.
“Robert Elsmere” (novel) Gillette’s dramatization of, revised by B., 356.
“Robert Macaire” (melod.): B.’s liking for--and often acted by, 80; 90; 103.
Roberts, Theodore (Am. actor: 1861-19--): fine
performance of, as _Scar-Brow_, 415.
Roberts, R. A. (actor): fine performance by, 382.
Robertson, Agnes Kelly (Mrs. Dion Boucicault:
Eng. actress: 1833-1916): 57; 153.
Robertson, Peter (Am. journalist: 1847-1911): 247.
Robertson, “Sue” (actress): bft. performance for, at Maguire’s O. H., 13.
Robson, Stuart (Am. actor: 1836-1903): 375.
Roche, Frank (actor): 46; 47.
Rodgers, James (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1826-1890): 53.
Rodgers, Katharine (actress): 53;
in Virginia City, 60;
her first appearance in S. F., 61; 133.
Roeder, Benjamin Franklin (general business
manager for David Belasco): 422; 450.
Rogers, Lorraine: 18.
Rogers, Miss (“beautiful school teacher”): B.
“barnstorms” with, 79, _et seq._; 80;
B. leaves, 81.
Roll of the Drum,” “The (play): by B.--another of same name, 13.
Romance of a Poor Young Man,” “The (dramatization from novel): 311.
“Romeo and Juliet”: A. Neilson in, 63; 137; 138; 209.
“Rosedale; or, The Rifle Ball” (melod.): 344.
Rossi, Ernesto (Italian actor and th. man.: 1829-1896): 252; 253.
Rowe, George Fawcett (Eng.-Am. actor and dramatist:
1834-1889): in S. F., 92; 133.
Rowe, Joseph (th. man.): 131.
Rough Diamond,” “The (play): 103.
Russian Honeymoon,” “A (play): 279.
“Ruy Blas” (play): 69.
Ryer, George (th. man.): 131.
S
“Sag Harbor” (melod.): 198; 199.
Salamon, Hon. ---- (Governor of Calif.): helps Modjeska, 101.
Salvini, Tommaso (It. actor and th. man.: 1829-1916):
first Am. appearance of, author present at, 59; 153; 168; 170; 171.
“Sam’l of Posen” (melod.): 295.
Sanger, Frank: 401.
“Saratoga” (play): 105.
Sardou, Victorien (Fr. dramatist: 1831-1908): 125; 311.
Sargent, Epes (Am. dramatist, poet, etc.: 1812-1880): 9.
Sargent, Franklin Haven (Am. teacher of acting: 1856-19--): 349; 353.
Saunders, Mrs. C. R. (Elizabeth Jefferson--Mrs. Jacob
Wonderly Thoman: actress): 131; 132; 135.
Saturday Review,” “The London (newspaper): 485.
Sawtell, J. A. (Am. actor and th. man.): B.’s first
meeting with--later association with B., 85.
“Schermerhorn’s Boy” (farce): 37.
“School” (comedy): 69.
School for Scandal,” “The (comedy): 177; 179.
Scott, Clement (Eng. journalist and playwright: 1841-1904): 485.
Scrap of Paper,” “A (comedy): 178.
“Secret Service” (melod.): B.’s “The H. of Maryland” precedes, 453;
an effective hodge-podge, 454.
Sedley-Smith, William Henry (Eng.-Am. actor, th. man., and
stage man.: 1806-1872): early friend of B.’s--and
sketch of life of, 28, _et seq._;
death of, 33; 135.
Shakespeare, William, 87; 90; 91; 136; 138; 157; 456; 457; 458.
Shannon, Effie (Mrs. Herbert Kelcey [Lamb]: Am. actress:
1869-19--): performance of, in “The Charity Ball,” 360.
Shattuck, Ada (actress): 35.
Shaw, George Bernard (Eng. journalist, playwright, and
social agitator: 1856-19--): 485.
“She” (novel): Gillette’s melodrama from, revised by B.
and made success of--production and story of same, 337,
_et seq._; 356; 387.
Sheehan, Joseph F. (singer): 489.
“Shenandoah” (melod.): C. Frohman prospers with, 373; 439.
Sheridan, Emma: 349.
Sheridan, Richard Brinsley (Irish-Eng. dramatist, th. man.,
orator, etc.: 1751-1816): 7; 330.
Sheridan, William E. (Am. actor: 1839-1887): 133;
first appearance in S. F., 221;
B.’s recollections
of, 222;
author on, 223; 224; 225.
“Shore Acres” (melod.): 198;
derivation of, 200.
Simon, Charles (Fr. journalist and playwright: 1850-1910): 456; 484; 485; 486.
Simpleton,” “The (novel): 239.
Sinclair, Catharine Norton (Mrs. Edwin Forrest: Scotch-Am.
actress: 18[06?]-1891): 132.
Sitting Bull (Sioux Indian Medicine Man): 404;
death of, 405.
Smith, Edward Tyrrell (Eng. th. man.: 1804-1877): 193.
Smith, John P. (actor): 229.
Smith, Mrs. Sol. (---- Sedley-Smith [real name, Sedley:
daughter of W. H. Sedley-Smith]--Mrs. Sedley Brown--Mrs.
Sol[omon] Smith, Jr.: Am. actress: 1830-1917): 32.
“Solon Shingle” (play): 78.
Sothern, Edward Askew (Eng. actor: 1826-1881): B. acts with, 51; 132; 343.
Sothern, Edward Hugh (Am. actor: 1859-19--): 317; 337;
appears in “The Highest Bidder,” 316;
in “Editha’s Burglar,” 317;
B. and De Mille write “Lord Chumley” for, 340;
dissatisfied with that play--persuaded to appear in, 341;
his performance and success in, 344.
Soulé, “Susie” (actress): 35.
Spanier in Peru,” “Die (play): rewritten by Sheridan: 7.
Sphinx,” “The (play): 72.
Spotted Tail (Sioux Indian chief): 404.
Stage, the: established in Calif., 130, _et seq._;
subjects suitable for exhibition on, author on, 457.
Stage Struck Chamber-Maid,” “The (farce): 49.
Stanhope, Adelaide (Mrs. Nelson Wheatcroft): 215.
Statue Lover,” “The (farce): 37.
Stark, James (actor): 131; 132.
Stetson, John (Am. speculator in theatricals, etc.: died, 1895): 242; 243.
“Still Waters Run Deep” (melod.): 344.
Stone, Amy (actress): 74.
Storm of Thoughts,” “A: 98.
Story of My Life,” “The (autobiography): B.’s, examined
and estimated by author, 22, _et seq._;
B.’s, _re_ Boucicault and B., quoted, 55;
critically examined by author, 148.
Strakosch, Max (Moravian-Am. opera man.: 1835-1892): 375.
STRANGLERS OF PARIS,” “THE (novel): 237;
B.’s dramatization of, 238;
cast of, 240.
Stranger,” “The (play): 9; 89; 94; 458.
Streets of New York,” “The (melod.): 103.
Stœples, Mrs. Richard: see Wells, Mary.
“Struck Blind” (story): B.’s dramatization of, 84.
“Struck Oil” (play): 107.
Stuart’s Park Th., N. Y.: opened, 58.
Stuart, William (Edmund C. O’Flaherty: Irish-Am. journalist
and th. man.: 1821-1886): Boucicault visits, 58.
Sullivan, Barry (Irish actor and th. man.: 1823-1891): 132;
opens Baldwin’s A. of M., S. F., 87;
repertory of, at same, 88;
B.’s recollections of, 89.
Sun,” “The New York (newspaper): letter of Raymond to, 66.
Sutter, ---- (dramatist): 28.
Swain, Caroline (Mrs. Frank Gardner: actress): 97.
Swartz, Edward J. (Am. playwright): 345.
“Sweethearts” (comedy): 312.
“Sweet Lavender” (comedy): 344; 353.
Swift, H. (actor): 35.
Synge, J. M. (playwright): 357.
Szamosy, Elza (Hungarian singer): 489.
T
Taber, Robert (Am. actor: 1865-1904): 349;
B.’s instructive reminiscence
of, 352, _et seq._;
death of, 351.
Taylor, Howard (Am. journalist and playwright): 288; 289.
Tearle, (George) Osmond (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1852-1901): 237; 240.
Tennyson, Alfred, first Lord (the poet: 1809-1892): 43.
Tentation,” “La (play): see also “Led Astray”: 24;
acted in S. F., 63.
Terry, Edward O’Connor (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1844-1912): 344.
Teuton, Stella: 416.
Thayer, Edward N. (actor: 1798-18--): 104; 131.
Theatre Royal, Victoria: B. appears at, in childhood, 10.
Theatres: in S. F.--and elsewhere in Calif., 130, et seq.
Theatrical managers: early, in Calif., 131.
Theatrical Syndicate (or Trust): 161.
“This Picture and That” (play): 471.
Thomas, Augustus (Am. dramatist: 1859-19--): 317.
Thompson, Charlotte (Mrs. Lorraine Rogers: actress: 1843-18--): 133.
Thompson, Denman (Am. actor, playwright, and th.
man.: 1834-1911): B. writes play for--and
attitude of, toward it, 111, _et seq._
Thompson, Slason (Am. playwright): 247.
Thompson, William H. (Scotch-Am, actor: 184---19--): 415.
THORNE, CHARLES ROBERT, Sr. (Eng.-Am. actor and th. man.: 1823-1893): 74;
early teacher of B.--and kindness of, to same, 78;
B. and, fight on horseback in “K. R. III.,” 79;
employs B.--and unable to pay, 85; 131.
Thorne, Charles Robert, Jr. (Am. actor: 1841-1883): 53.
Thorne’s Palace Th., S. F.: 85.
Thorpe, Rose Hartwick (Am. poet: 1850-19--): 11.
Three Guardsmen,” “The (play): 473.
Three Singles; or, Two and the Deuce,” “The (farce): 474.
Ticket-of-Leave Man,” “The (play): B. acts Mrs. Willoughby in, 104.
“To Oblige Benson” (farce): 474.
Torrence, John (actor): 135.
“Trade” (play): 313.
See also “The Highest Bidder.”
Tribune,” “The New York (newspaper): 59; 225.
“TRUE TO THE CORE” (melod.): B.’s version of--and cast, 220.
Trowbridge, John Townsend (poet: 1827-1916): 11.
“Twelfth Night”: 137.
Twenty-third Street Theatre (Proctor’s), N. Y.:
account of--and “Men and Women” acted at, 373, _et seq._
“Twice Saved; or, Bertha the Midget” (melod.): 49.
Two Orphans,” “The (melod.): 96.
Tyler (Kirkland), Odette (Mrs. Robert D. McLean
[Shepherd]: Am. actress: 1869-19--): 416.
U
UGLY DUCKLING,” “THE (melod.): 383; 384;
revision of, by B.--and produced--story of, 385;
cast of, 387;
end of career of, 388; 389.
“Ultimo” (play): 80;
run of, in S. F., 82.
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (melod.): L. Alberta and B. in, 49; 258.
“Under the Gas-Light” (melod.): B. appears in,
with Mme. Methua-Scheller, 26; 92.
“UNDER THE POLAR STAR” (melod.): revised by B., 446.
“Under Two Flags” (novel): Falconer’s dramatization of, 28; 470.
Unequal Match,” “The (comedy): 69.
Union Square Th., N. Y.: first performance of “Led Astray” at, 39.
Union Square Theatre Co. (of N.
Y.): directed in S. F. by B., 105;
tribute of, to B., 106.
Unofficial Patriot,” “The (novel): 200.
Upper Crust,” “The (comedy): 220.
“Used Up” (farcical comedy): 59.
V
Vagabonds,” “The (poem): 11; 44.
Valasco: early form of name Belasco, 1.
“VALERIE” (comedy): B. writes, for Wallack, 298, _et seq._;
cast of, 304.
Vane, Alice (actress): in “Rip Van Winkle,” 71.
Varian, Nina (Am. actress: died, 1880): 179.
“Venice Preserved” (play): 160.
Venua, Wesley (th. man.): 130.
Vernon, Mrs. George (Jane Marchant Fisher: Am. actress: 1792-1869): 153.
VICAR OF WAKEFIELD,” “THE: B.’s dramatization of, 106.
Vie de Bohème,” “La: 53.
Vinson, James H. (Am. actor and stage man.): 35; 217.
Vulgar Boy,” “The (poem): 43.
W
Wade’s Opera House, S. F.: Rignold in “K. Henry V.” at, 90.
Wagnalls, Lincoln (th. man.): 349.
Walcot, Charles Melton, Sr. (Eng.-Am. actor: 1816-1868): 153.
Wallace, “Jake” (old-time Calif. “minstrel”): 74;
B.’s recollections of--dramatic character copied from, 75.
Wallack, James William, the Elder (Eng.-Am.
actor and th. man.: 1795-1864): 167.
Wallack, James William, the Younger (Eng.-Am.
actor and th. man.: 1818-1873): 72; 132;
his _Fagin_, 167; 197.
WALLACK, LESTER (John Johnstone Wallack: Am. actor,
th. man., and dramatist: 1820-1888): 56; 153;
offer of, to buy play, rejected, 182;
wishes to employ B., 205, _et seq._; 237; 241; 242; 243; 244; 245; 246;
B. writes “Valerie” for, 298, _et seq._;
excellent quality of his acting, 303;
note of, to B., 304;
offers B. employment--and B.’s view of, 305.
Wallack’s Lyceum, N. Y.: 8.
Wallack’s Theatre, N. Y.: “Forbidden Fruit” at, 57;
“Mora”--and “Mimi,” produced at--Boucicault at, in
“Kerry” and “Used Up,” 58.
Waller, Daniel Wilmarth (actor and th. man.): 131.
Wallet of Time,” “The (dramatic history, etc.): 68.
Wall Street Bandit,” “A (play): 311.
Walsh, Blanche (Am. actress: 18---19--): 349.
Walter, Eugene (Am. journalist and playwright: 1876-19--): 456.
Walters, Clara Jean (Am. actress): 48.
“Wanted, a Divorce” (play): 97.
Ward, Artemus (Charles Farrar Browne: Am. humorist: 1835-1867): 148.
Ward (Mary Augusta), Mrs. Humphry (Eng. novelist: 1851-19--): 356.
Ward, James W. (actor): B. works for, 96.
Warfield, David (Am. actor: 1866-19--): 113;
B. on ambition of, to act _Shylock_, 139.
Warner, Charles (Eng. actor and th. man.: 1847-1909): 185.
Warner, Charles Dudley (Am. man of letters: 1829-1900): 64; 66.
Warner, Neil (actor: 1830-1901): 133.
Warwick, James H. (actor): 131.
“Watson’s Art Journal”: 18.
Watson, Mary (Am. actress): 74.
Webster, Daniel (the statesman: 1782-1852): 9.
“Wedded by Fate” (melod.): 227; 228.
Wellington, Duke of: 131.
Wells, Mary (Mrs. Richard Stœples: Eng.-Am. actress:
1829-1878): first appearance of, in Am., 23;
same, in S. F.--and B.’s first formal appearance on
stage _not_ made with, 24.
Wells, Minnie (singing actress): B.’s first formal
appearance on stage made with, 24; 25.
Wheatcroft, Nelson (Am. actor): 360; 415.
Wheatleigh, Charles (Am. actor and th. man.: 18---18--): 69; 132; 261.
Wheelock, Joseph, Sr. (Eng. actor: 183[8?]-1908): 286.
Whiffen, Thomas (actor): 71; 72.
Whitney, Fred. C. (Am. th. man.): 436
Whittlesey, White (Am. actor): 349.
“Who Killed Cock Robin?” (burlesque): B. in, 86.
Widmer, Henry (musician and orchestra conductor:
1845-1895): music for “Passion Play” by, 115.
Wife,” “The (drama--Knowles’): 46; 87; 92; 103.
WIFE,” “THE (comedy--by B. and De M.): 321;
B.’s recollection of writing of, 327, _et seq._;
quality, and story, of, 329, _et seq._;
success of, due to B.’s invention--and cast of, 334;
ordered withdrawn--and forced by B. to success, 336; 337; 355; 432.
“Wild Oats” (comedy): 90.
Williams, Barney (Irish-Am, actor and th. man.: 1823-1876): 133.
Williams, Mrs. Barney (Irish-Am. actress: 18---18--): 133.
Williamson, James Cassius (Am.-Australian actor
and th. man.: 1846-1913): 36; 107.
Willing Hand,” “The (melod.): 96.
Willow Copse,” “The (melod.): 69.
Wills, William Gorman (Irish-Eng. poet, dramatist,
and novelist: 1830-1891): 107.
Wilson, John (actor): 132; 135.
Wilson, Primrose & West Minstrel Co.: 113.
Wilson, R. A. (Am. actor): 35.
Wilton, Ellie (Am. actress): 74.
“WINE, WOMAN, AND CARDS” (melod.): 98.
Winter, E. Wales (th. agent): 349.
“WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE” (story): B.’s
dramatization of--success of same--and “effects” in, 113;
cast of, 114; 189.
Woman in Red,” “The (melod.): 49; 261.
Woman in White,” “The (play): J. Dean in, 8.
Woman of the People,” “A (melod.): adapted by B., 107.
“Won at Last” (play): 189; 190; 272.
Wonder,” “The (comedy): 88.
Wonderful Scamp,” “The: see “Aladdin No. 2.”
Wood, Col. J. H. (th. man.): 86.
Wood Rose (actress): 105;
B. makes play for, 108.
Woodard, John R. (Am. actor, stage man., and th. man.): 24; 25; 35; 36; 131.
Woodard, Mary (actress): 131.
Woods, Rev. T. C.: 4.
World,” “The (melod.): 239; 250.
Worthing, Frank (Francis George Pentland: Scotch-Am.
actor and playwright: 1866-1910): 471;
performance of, in “Naughty Anthony,” 474;
same, 475.
Wren, “Fred” (Am. actor): 192.
Wyndham, Sir Charles, kt. (1837-19--): 395; 396; 398; 399.
(X)Y
Yankee,” “The (play): B. writes for Owens--and rejected, 78.
Yates, Frederick Henry (actor): 173.
Young Widow,” “The (play): 103.
YOUNGER SON,” “THE (play): adopted by B., 428;
produced--story, and cast, of, 429;
failure of, 430.
“Youth” (melod.): 246.
Z
Zangwill, Israel (Eng. novelist: 1864-19--): 473.
“ZAZA” (play): 454;
author’s strictures on, and on production of, by B., 456, _et seq._;
production--contents--and significance of, 461, _et seq._;
Mrs. Carter’s performance in, 464;
cast of, 465; 466;
B. and C. Frohman present, in London--disgust of the Fr.
authors thereof, 484;
and B.’s amusing account thereof, 485, _et seq._
Zoe, Mlle. Marie (Cuban dancer): B. engaged to assist, 70.
Zola, Émile (Fr. playwright): 184.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] As these pages go to press such an error is noted in matter already
printed. Volume One, page 231, _Charles Groves_ should be _F. C. Grove_.
[B] The precept occurs in “Poor Richard’s Almanac,” “Keep your shop and
your shop will keep you.”--W. W.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Life of David Belasco; Vol. 1" ***
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