Chapter XII: Preface (11)

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

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.”

Photograph by Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.

BELASCO, ABOUT 1893]

FIGHTING FOR A CHANCE.