Chapter X: Preface (9)

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

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.

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

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.