Chapter VII: Preface (6)

While thus employed at the Baldwin Theatre,--that is, at some time between May and August, 1879,--Belasco was asked by James O’Neill to write a play for his use and that of Lewis Morrison (1844-1906), his intimate friend, and he had begun the adaptation of an old drama, which he purposed to entitle “Chums.” His original intention was that this should be produced with O’Neill and Morrison in the chief parts (those actors being desirous of leaving the Baldwin Theatre stock company and establishing themselves, under a joint business management, as co-stars); but he had made no contract nor even mentioned his project, and when, later, his adapted play, then incomplete, by chance became

Photograph by Taber, San Francisco.

Courtesy Mrs. Morrison.

LEWIS MORRISON

Photograph by Sarony.

Belasco’s Collection.

JAMES O’NEILL

About 1880]

known to Mr. and Mrs. Herne, with whom he was closely associated, he acceded to a proposal which they made to form a partnership with them for its production. Herne, who had first appeared in California in 1868, was then well established in popular favor; moreover,--notwithstanding that most of the actual labor of stage management devolved on Belasco,--authoritative control of the Baldwin stage and, to a great extent, selection of the plays to be represented at that theatre were vested in Herne. His coöperation, therefore, was desirable, if, indeed, it was not essential; he became a co-worker with Belasco, and between them the play was finished. During the engagement of Lotta Herne arranged for a tour of Pacific Slope towns by O’Neill and Morrison, leading the Baldwin Dramatic Company, beginning at Sacramento, Sunday, September 7, in a repertory which comprised “Diplomacy,” “A Woman of the People,” “Pink Dominos,” “Won at Last,” “L’Assommoir,” and “Within an Inch of His Life,” thus leaving the way clear for rehearsal and production of “Chums.” Belasco and the Hernes were expectant of great success for this play. Handsome scenery had been painted for it, and ample provision had been made for the display of those accessories which please the public taste for what is known as “realism.” The prospect seemed bright. The first performance occurred on September 9, 1879, at the Baldwin Theatre, Katharine Corcoran (Mrs. Herne) taking a benefit. The result was a bitter disappointment. The receipts were extremely small (“I remember,” writes Belasco, “that, one night, they were only $17.50!”), and after a disheartening run of two weeks “Chums” was withdrawn,--being succeeded by O’Neill and Morrison, in a revival of “Won at Last.” This was the San Francisco cast of “Chums”:

_Terry Dennison_} The Chums { James A. Herne. _Ruby Darrell_ } { W. H. Haverstraw. _Uncle Davy_ J. W. Jennings. _Owen Garroway_ Charles B. Bishop. _Mr. Ellingham_ A. D. Bradley. _Foreman of the Mill_ H. Thompson. _Clerk of the Mill_ Mr. Pierce. _Mr. Parker_ E. Ambrose. _Tom_ J. W. Thompson. _Sleuth_ L. Paul. _Chrystal_ Katherine Corcoran. _Aunt Betsy_ Annie A. Adams. _Little Chrystal_ Maude Adams. _The Baby_ Herself.

By this decisive failure Herne was much discouraged. Not so either Belasco or Mrs. Herne, and on a suggestion made by the latter it was determined to take the play on a tour into the East. “I took a benefit at the Baldwin,” Belasco told me, “and it _was_ a benefit! Everybody volunteered; Maguire [the manager of the Baldwin] gave us the use of the theatre; the actors gave their services; the orchestra gave theirs; the newspapers gave the ’ads.’ All that came in was clear gain, and I got a little more than $3,000. That was our working capital.”

FROM SAN FRANCISCO TO CHICAGO.

With money thus raised on Belasco’s behalf, and with a play projected by him, the business alliance was arranged,--the Hernes to have one-half interest and Belasco the other. A company was engaged and the expedition was undertaken,--the design being to act “Chums” in various cities on the way to the Atlantic Seaboard, with hope of securing an opening in New York and making a fortune. Ill luck, however, attended it. “Chums” was played in Salt Lake City and other places, but everywhere in vain. At last, the scenery having been seized for debt, the company was disbanded and the partners, almost penniless, made their way to Chicago. The chief managers in that city then were James Horace McVicker (1822-1896) and Richard Martin Hooley (1822-1893). Both were besought to produce “Chums” and both declined. “We were in a dreadful way,” said Belasco, in telling me this story; “we had gone to the old Sherman House and taken the smallest, cheapest rooms we could get, and Alvin Hurlbert, the proprietor, had let our bills run. But at last they had run so long we had to make an explanation,--and I did the explaining. It wasn’t an easy thing to do,--though I’d done it before, in the early, wild days in the West. But Hurlbert was very kind: ’I believe in you, my boy,’ he said, ’and it’s all right,’--so we had a little more time to hustle in. And we _hustled_! By chance Herne and I went into a kind of beer-garden, called the Coliseum, kept by John Hamlin. There was a stage, and “Fred” Wren, in “On Time,” was giving impersonations of German character,--sort of imitation of J. K. Emmet in ’Fritz.’ The ’business’ was bad; there weren’t thirty people in the house when Herne and I chanced in. I immediately proposed to Hamlin that we bring out ’Chums,’ which we had renamed ’Hearts of Oak.’ He agreed to let us have the theatre, but Hamlin had no money to invest, so we had to get a production and assemble a company, all without a cent of capital! However, we got credit in one place or another, and did it,--a production costing thousands, on credit, and without a dollar of our own in it! We had a big success, although Hamlin’s Coliseum wasn’t much of a place.”

“HEARTS OF OAK.”

“Hearts of Oak” (“Chums”) is based on a melodrama called “The Mariner’s Compass,” by an English dramatist, Henry Leslie (1829-1881), which was first produced at Astley’s Theatre, London, in 1865, under the management of that wonderfully enterprising person Edward Tyrrell Smith (1804-1877), and was first acted in America, at the New Bowery Theatre, New York, May 22, that year,--with Edward Eddy as _Silas Engleheart_, the prototype of _Terry Dennison_, and Mrs. W. G. Jones as _Hetty Arnold_, the prototype of _Chrystal_. It was announced in Chicago as “Herne’s and Belasco’s American Play, in Five Acts and Six Tableaux,” and it was first produced there on November 17, 1879, at Hamlin’s Theatre,--I find no authority for calling it the Coliseum, but my records of Chicago theatres in that period are meagre,--with this cast,--Mrs. Herne (Katherine Corcoran) then making her first appearance in that city:

_Terry Dennison_ James A. Herne. _Ruby Darrell_ Harry Mainhall. _Uncle Davy_ William H. Crompton. _Mr. Ellingham_ David Belasco. _Owen Garroway_ Frank K. Pierce. _Foreman of the Mill_ William A. Lavalle. _Clerk of the Mill_ William Lawrence. _Will Barton_ Lillie Hamilton. _Chrystal_ Katherine Corcoran. _Aunt Betsy_ Rose Watson. _Little Chrystal_ Alice Hamilton. _Tawdrey_ Dollie Hamilton. _Mr. Parker_ J. A. Andrews. _Tom_ J. Sherman. _Sleuth_ T. Gossman. _The Baby_ Herself

After its production at Hamlin’s Theatre,--designated by Belasco as “a big success,”--“Hearts of Oak” was taken on a tour, but was presently brought back to Chicago, and on March 15, 1880, it was presented at Hooley’s Theatre, where it was again received with public favor. In the meantime the fact that it was in a considerable degree a variant of an English play of earlier date had been perceived and made known, and Hamlin, offended and resentful because Herne and Belasco, returning to Chicago, had chosen to appear at Hooley’s instead of coming back to him, announced a revival of the earlier play,--Leslie’s “The Mariner’s Compass,”--with the title of “Hearts of Oak.” A suit at law followed, the ultimate decision being that “The Mariner’s Compass,” unprotected by American copyright, was free to any person in the United States who might choose to use it, irrespective of its author’s moral rights, but that the title of “Hearts of Oak” was owned by Herne and Belasco, in association with their play, and could not lawfully be associated with another. The inimical purpose of Hamlin was thus, in a measure, defeated, but Belasco’s troubles did not stop there. Herne evinced much displeasure on learning that Belasco’s play, on which he had co-labored, was not strictly original. An alleged ground of Herne’s displeasure was the lawsuit. “Why didn’t you tell me about “The Mariner’s Compass’?” he said, reproaching Belasco: “_now_ I’ve a damned lawsuit on my hands!” “Well,” Belasco rejoined, “I don’t see why I should have told you anything about the old play; and, anyway, I don’t see what you have to complain about. You ought to be mighty glad you’ve got a half-interest in something worth a lawsuit to protect,--and you haven’t got the suit on _your_ hands any more than I have on _mine_!” The actual ground of Herne’s dissatisfaction, judging by his subsequent treatment of Belasco, probably was his realization that, if he had, in the first place, been made acquainted with “The Mariner’s Compass,” he could himself have adapted that play to his own use without forming a partnership with anybody.

FIRST VENTURE IN NEW YORK.

The success gained in Chicago and other cities relieved the Belasco-Herne triumvirate from immediate pecuniary embarrassment, and notwithstanding the existence of a latent and growing antagonism the path to fortune seemed to have opened for them. From Chicago, after two weeks at Hooley’s Theatre, those managers carried their play to New York, an opening having been obtained through the agency of Brooks & Dickson (Joseph Brooks [1849-1916] and James B---- Dickson, now [1917] business manager for Robert B. Mantell), and “Hearts of Oak” was presented, for the first time in the metropolis, March 29, 1880, at the New Fifth Avenue Theatre, then opened under the management of Edward E. Rice and Jacob Nunnemacher. This was the cast:

_Terry Dennison_ James A. Herne. _Ruby Darrell_ Harry Mainhall. _Uncle Davy_ William H. Crompton. _Mr. Ellingham_ J. W. Dean. _Owen Garroway_ H. M. Brown. _Foreman of the Mill_ J. S. Andrews. _Clerk of the Mill_ William Lawrence. _Will Barton_ Lillie Hamilton. _Chrystal_ Katherine Corcoran. _Aunt Betsy_ Henrietta Bert Osborne. _Little Chrystal_ Alice Hamilton. _Tawdrey_ Dollie Hamilton. _Mr. Parker_ Mr. Harvey. _Tom_ J. Sherman. _Sleuth_ T. Gossman. _The Baby_ Herself.

JAMES ALFRED HERNE.

James Alfred Herne (1839-1901) has been incorrectly and injudiciously vaunted as a great, original, representative American dramatist. The claim is preposterous. Herne was not a dramatist, he was a playwright (that is, a mechanic, a _maker_ of plays, mechanically, from stock material, precisely as a wheelwright is a maker of wheels), and as a playwright he was less distinctive than as an actor. He adopted the latter vocation in youth, first as an amateur, then as a member of a stock company, making his first professional appearance at a theatre in Troy, New York. He obtained good training. He participated in performances of standard plays with some of the best actors who have graced the American Stage,--among them James Booth Roberts (1818-1901), Edward Loomis Davenport (1815-1877), and the younger James William Wallack (1818-1873). He did not possess a tithe of the power and versatility of Davenport, but he was deeply affected by the influence of that noble actor, and he played several parts in close imitation of him,--notably _Sikes_, in “Oliver Twist.” His dramatic instinct was keen, but his mind was not imaginative and the natural bent of it was toward prosy literalism. He was early, strongly, and continuously dominated by the literal methods and the humanitarian and reformatory spirit of the novels of Dickens. He liked the utilitarian and matter-of-fact embellishments with which some of those novels abound, and he was attracted by such characters as _Peggotty_, a part which he acted and of which his performance was creditable. As an actor he aimed to be photographic, he copied actual life in commonplace aspects as closely as he could, and often he was slow, dull, and tedious. As a playwright he was deficient in the faculty of invention and in the originality of characterization. He tinkered the plays of other writers, always with a view to the enhancement or introduction of graphic situations. The principal plays with which his name is associated are “Hearts of Oak,” “Drifting Apart,” “Sag Harbor,” “Margaret Fleming,” “Shore Acres,” and “The Rev. Griffith Davenport.” “Hearts of Oak” is Belasco’s revamp of “The Mariner’s Compass,” modified and expanded. The characters in it are not American: they are transformed English characters. It was not Herne’s plan, it was Belasco’s, to rehabilitate the earlier play by Leslie, shift the places of the action, shuffle the scenes, change the names of the persons, introduce incidents from other plays, add unusual “stage effects,” and so manufacture something that might pass for a novelty. In reply to a question of mine as to Herne’s share in the making of “Hearts of Oak,” Belasco said “he did _a lot of good work_ on it,” and when I asked for specification of that work I was told “he introduced a lot of _Rip Van Winkle_ stuff.” “Drifting Apart” is based on an earlier play, called “Mary, the Fisherman’s Daughter.” “Sag Harbor” is a variant of “Hearts of Oak.” “Margaret Fleming” is mainly the work of Mrs. Herne, and is one of those crude and completely ineffectual pieces of hysterical didacticism which are from time to time produced on the stage with a view to the dismay of libertines by an exhibition of some of the evil consequences of licentious conduct. In that play a righteously offended wife bares her bosom to the public gaze in order to suckle a famished infant, of which her dissolute husband is the father by a young woman whom he has seduced, betrayed, and abandoned to want and misery: libertines, of course, are always reformed by spectacles of that kind! (This incident, by the way, occurs, under other circumstances, in the fourth chapter of “Hide and Seek,” by Wilkie Collins, published in 1854.) “The Rev. Griffith Davenport” was deduced from a novel called “The Unofficial Patriot,” by Helen H. Gardner. “Shore Acres” is, in its one vital dramatic ingredient, derived from a play by Frank Murdoch, called “The Keepers of Lighthouse Cliff,”--in which Herne had acted years before “Shore Acres” was written. It incorporates, also, many of the real stage properties and much of the stage business,--the real supper, etc.,--used in “Hearts of Oak.” Its climax is the quarrel of the brothers _Martin_ and _Nathan’l Berry_, the suddenly illumined beacon, kindled by _Uncle Nat_, and the hairbreadth escape of the imperilled ship,--taken, without credit, from Murdoch’s drama. Herne localized his plays in America and, to a certain extent, treated American subjects, but he made no addition to American Drama, and his treatment of the material that he “borrowed” or adapted never rose above respectable mediocrity. It was as an actor that he gained repute and merited commemoration. He was early impressed by the example of Joseph Jefferson and was emulative of him: he appeared in Jefferson’s most famous character, _Rip Van Winkle_, but he did not evince a particle of that innate charm, that imaginative, spiritual quality, which irradiated Jefferson’s impersonation of the pictorial vagabond and exalted it into the realm of the poetic ideal. Herne earnestly wished for a part in which he might win a popularity and opulence in some degree commensurate with those obtained by Jefferson as _Rip Van Winkle_: he eventually found it, or something like it, in _Terry Dennison_, in “Hearts of Oak,” which he acted, far and wide, for many years, and by which he accumulated a fortune of about $250,000. The influence of his acting, at its best, was humanitarian and in that respect highly commendable.--On April 3, 1878, Herne and Katherine Corcoran were wedded, in San Francisco,--that being Herne’s second marriage. His first wife was Helen Western. He was a native of Cohoes, New York. The true name of this actor was James Ahearn, which, when he adopted the profession of the Stage, he changed to James A. Herne. It is given in the great register of San Francisco as James Alfred Herne. His death occurred, June 2, 1901, at No. 79 Convent Avenue, near 145th Street, New York.

ANALYSIS OF “HEARTS OF OAK.”

I remember the first performance of “Hearts of Oak” in New York. The play was a patchwork of hackneyed situations and incidents, culled and refurbished from such earlier plays as “Little Em’ly,” “Rip Van Winkle,” “Leah the Forsaken,” and “Enoch Arden.” Some of those situations were theatrically effective, and the quality of the fabric was instinct with tender feeling. The articulation of the parts, meaning the mechanism, indicated, to some extent, an expert hand,--which unquestionably its chief manipulator, Belasco, possessed, and which he has since more amply shown. The element of picture, however, exceeded that of action, and the element of commonplace realism, manifested partly in the drawing of character, partly in the dialogue, and largely in the accessories and stage business, was so excessive as to be tiresome. Real water, real beans, real boiled potatoes, and various other ingredients of a real supper, together with a real cat and a real (and much discontented) baby, were among the real objects employed in the representation. Such things, particularly when profusely used in a play, are injurious to dramatic effect, because they concentrate attention on themselves and distract it from the subject and the action to be considered. Accessories should blend into the investiture of a play and not be excrescences upon it. There is, however, a large public that likes to see on the stage such real objects as it customarily sees in the dwelling or the street,--a real fireplace,

From a photograph by (Stevens?). The Albert Davis Collection.

JAMES A. HERNE]

a real washtub, a real dog, a real horse, all the usual trappings of actual life: that is the public which finds its chief artistic pleasure in _recognition_. It was present on many occasions during the career of “Hearts of Oak,” and with this plethora of real and commonplace objects it was much pleased.

In the story of “Hearts of Oak” a young man, _Ruby Darrell_, and a young woman, _Chrystal_ (_Dennison?_), who love each other and wish to wed, privately agree to abnegate themselves in order that the young woman may marry their guardian and benefactor, _Terry Dennison_, out of gratitude to him. This immoral marriage is accomplished and in time the wife becomes a mother. In time, also, the injured guardian discovers,--what, if he had possessed even ordinary discernment, he would have discovered in the beginning,--that his wife’s affections are fixed on _Darrell_. The miserable _Dennison_ then goes away, after privately arranging that if he does not return within five years _Darrell_ shall wed with _Chrystal_. Six years pass; _Dennison_ is reported to have perished at sea in the wreck of a Massachusetts ship, and _Chrystal_ and _Ruby_ erect a churchyard monument to his memory. Then _Chrystal_, believing herself to be a widow, marries her lover. But the desolate husband is not dead; he reappears, blind, destitute and wretched, on the wedding day, and in a colloquy with his child, outside of the church within which the marriage is being solemnized and seated on the base of his memorial among the graves, he ascertains the existent circumstances and presently expires, while his wife and little daughter pitifully minister to him as to a stranger. The misery and pathos of the experience and situation are obvious. It is also obvious that, in the fulfilment of a central purpose to create a situation and depict a character instinct with misery and pathos, the element of probability was disregarded. The chief part is that of the injured, afflicted, suffering guardian, who, as a dramatic character, is a variant of _Enoch Arden_ and _Harebell_.

In acting _Dennison_, Herne, while often heavy and monotonous, gained sympathy and favor by the simplicity of his demeanor, his facile assumption of manliness, and his expert simulation of deep feeling; but he did nothing that had not been done before, and much better done, by other actors,--in particular, by Edwin Adams in _Enoch Arden_, and by William Rufus Blake and Charles Fisher in _Peggotty_ and kindred parts, of which the fibre is rugged manliness and magnanimity. Katherine Corcoran, playing _Chrystal_, gave a performance that was interesting more by personality than by art. She had not then been long on the Stage. She was handsome, graceful, and winning, of slender figure, with an animated, eagerly expressive face, blue-gray eyes, silky brown hair, and a sweet voice. In calm moments and level speaking she was efficient. In excitement her vocalism became shrill and her action spasmodic. Scenery of more than common merit, painted by William Voegtlin, was provided to embellish the play, at the Fifth Avenue Theatre. One picture, in particular, representing a prospect of a tranquil seacoast, was excellent in composition, true and fine in color, and poetic in quality; another effectively portrayed a broad expanse of troubled sea, darkening ominously under a sombre sky tumultuous with flying scud. Herne somewhat improved the play in the course of his protracted repetitions of it, after he parted from Belasco, but he always retained in it the “real” trappings which Belasco had introduced. Both those actors, as playwrights, were conjunctive in favor of “limbs and outward flourishes,”--the “real tubs” of _Mr. Crummles_.

FAILURE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

The play, which without Belasco’s consent or knowledge was announced in New York as “by James A. Herne” (mention being made, in the programme, that it was remotely based on “The Mariner’s Compass,” but, practically, was Herne’s original composition!), failed there. Belasco states, in his “Story,” that it was produced in “the summer time,” and adds that “notwithstanding the play’s success, we could not combat the intense humidity.” That statement is incorrect. March is not summer, and it was not “intense _humidity_” but intense _frost_ that could not be combated. The business was further injured by the fact that Herne was on several occasions incapacitated to appear, and Belasco replaced him as _Terry Dennison_. The initial expenses had been heavy, the profit was soon almost dissipated, the engagement was ended April 16, and, on going to Philadelphia, to fulfil an engagement at Mrs. Drew’s Arch Street Theatre, the partners quarrelled. Herne there expressed to Belasco his opinion that the play was rubbish, that he was wasting his time by acting in it, and proposed that Belasco should buy his half interest, for $1,500, or that he should buy Belasco’s for the same amount,--“knowing,” Belasco has told me, “that I had not drawn any of my share of the profits, while there were any; that I had been living and keeping my family, in San Francisco, on $50 a week (I was allowed that and talked to all the time about ’the barrels of money “Dave” would have at the end of the season’!), and also knowing that I didn’t have fifteen hundred cents!” Herne, after profuse condemnation of the play and harsh censure of Belasco, in which he was sustained by his business associate, Frederick W. Burt, finally obtained Belasco’s signature to an agreement to sell to Herne, for $1,500, all his half-interest in “Hearts of Oak,” and so that play became Herne’s exclusive property. The purchase money was not paid, but Herne gave a promissory note for it. Later, realizing that he had acted imprudently, Belasco called on his friend Mrs. John Drew, informed her of the business, and asked her advice. That eminently practical lady was both sympathetic and indignant. She commended him to her attorneys, Messrs. Shakespeare and Devlin, and desired that they should see what could be done “for this boy.” There was, however, little to do. “You are of age,” said Devlin, “you’ve signed an agreement; you’ll have to stand by it,--but I’ll get you the $1,500. The first thing is to find where Herne banks.” That information was easily obtained, and Belasco and Devlin repaired to the bank,--where they met Herne coming out, and where, a few moments later, they were told that he had withdrawn his money and closed his account. The $1,500 was not paid until several years later, when Belasco, then employed at the Madison Square Theatre, New York, stated the facts to Marshall H. Mallory, one of the managers of that house, and, with assistance of his lawyers, obtained from Herne payment of the debt, with interest.

SAN FRANCISCO AGAIN.

Meantime, Belasco had been left in a painful predicament. “I had,” he told me, “quite honestly, but very extravagantly, painted our success in brilliant colors when writing to my dear wife,--and there I was, in Philadelphia, without enough money to pay my fare back to San Francisco, and nobody to borrow from. I went, first, to New York, hoping to get employment, but luck was against me--I could get nothing, and I spent three nights on the benches in Union Square Park. I met Marcus Mayer, a friend of mine, in the Park one morning, and he got part of my story from me, lent me some money, and promised to try to help me further. But I had to get to San Francisco, and as soon as he lent me a little money I made up my mind to _start_. It took me eighteen days to make the trip, but I did it,--paying what I could, persuading conductors and brakemen to let me ride free, if only for a few miles, and, when I was put off, stealing rides on anything that was going. I got there, but it was a pretty wretched homecoming. I had to swallow any pride I had left and go to work again at the Baldwin,--where I’d been stage manager and playwright and amounted to something,--and where now I played anything,--‘bits,’ mostly,--given me: I got only $25 a week.”

The story of Belasco’s venture with “Hearts of Oak” has been told minutely for the reason that it involves his first determined effort to break away from what he viewed as thraldom in the Theatre of San Francisco, and make for himself a position in the metropolis of the country. The failure of that effort was a bitter humiliation and disappointment to him. It did not, however, weaken his purpose. After he rejoined the Baldwin he was not long constrained to occupy a subservient position.

BELASCO’S RECOLLECTIONS OF ADELAIDE NEILSON.

One of the associations of Belasco’s professional life much prized by him is that with the lovely woman and great actress Adelaide Neilson. Miss Neilson first appeared in San Francisco, March 10, 1874, at the California Theatre, acting _Juliet_,--of which part she was the best representative who has been seen within the last sixty years. During her engagement at the California, which lasted till March 30, and in the course of which she acted _Rosalind_, _Lady Teazle_, _Julia_, in “The Hunchback,” and _Pauline_, in “The Lady of Lyons,” as well as _Juliet_, Belasco was employed in the theatre, acting as an assistant to the prompter, and participating as a super in all the plays that were presented. “Little a thing as it is,” he has said to me, “I have always been proud to remember that I danced with her, in the minuet, in ’Romeo and Juliet,’ the first night she ever played in our city. I never saw such wonderful eyes, or heard a voice so silver-toned, so full of pathos, so rich and thrilling. I shall never forget how deeply affected I was when, in the dance, for the first time I touched her hand and she turned those wonderful eyes on _me_.”

When Belasco was re-employed at the Baldwin Miss Neilson was acting there, in the second week of her farewell engagement, which began on June 8. On July 17 that engagement closed, and one of the brightest yet saddest of theatrical careers came to an end. Belasco, always closely attentive to his stage duties, never depended on anybody but himself to give the signals for raising and lowering the curtain, and, on that night, he “rang down” on the last performance Adelaide Neilson ever gave. The bill was the Balcony Scene, from “Romeo and Juliet,” and the play of “Amy Robsart.” In the course of the performance Belasco, after the Balcony Scene, went to assist her in descending from the elevated platform and, as she came down, she laid a hand on his shoulder and sprang to the stage,--losing a slipper as she did so. Belasco took it up. “You may keep it,” she said, “for Rosemary,”--and, says Belasco, “having thanked her I nailed it, then and there, to the wall by the prompter’s stand and there it stayed, as a mascot, for years.” Referring to that last night of her stage career, Belasco has written the following reminiscence:

THE BLACK PEARL.

“Like other stars of the day, Miss Neilson expressed a desire to
give every member of her company a memento. I was waiting at the
green-room door to escort her to the hotel, when she called me into
her dressing-room. ’You are so weird and mysterious, and perhaps I
may never see you again. Look over those things and choose
something for yourself.’ On her dressing-room table she had piled
all her wonderful jewels, a fortune of immense value. I remember
that her maid, a little deformed woman, stood by me as I hesitated.
’Yes, to bring you luck,’ she replied and there was a faint chuckle
in her throat. Rubies, diamonds, emeralds--they dazzled my eyes. I
finally reached forward and picked a black pearl. I said, ’I’ll
take this.’ Miss Neilson’s face turned white, and she closed her
eyes. ’Oh, David, why do you ask for that?’ she cried, and I
dropped it as though I had done an evil thing. ’I’m superstitious,’
she confessed. ’My trunk is full of nails, horseshoes, and the
luckiest thing of all is that little black pearl. I dislike to
refuse you anything, but I know you will understand.’ I hastily
selected a small emerald, and with a feeling almost of temerity I
left the room. All during the farewell supper that followed she
would bring the conversation back to the strangeness of my choice,
until I thought she would never cease, and just on my account. ’If
I gave up that pearl, I shouldn’t live a month. Some one told me
that, and I believe it,’ she said.

“When she left on the morrow she made me promise that if I ever
visited London I would seek her out, but that was the last I saw of
Adelaide Neilson. She had gone no farther than Reno when she wrote
me, sending me a little package in which was buried the black
pearl. ’I cannot get your voice out of my mind,’ she wrote. Six
months afterwards she died in a little French village. She had
returned tired and dusty to the inn from a ramble in the leafy
lanes of Normandy, and, drinking a glass of ice-cold milk, was
suddenly dead in an hour. [She died in less than _one_
month--August 15, 1880, at a châlet, in the Bois de Boulogne,
Paris, becoming ill while driving.--W. W.]

“Of course I had told my family the incident, and one afternoon,
while I was out, my mother went to my room, and, for fear of
ill-luck pursuing me, destroyed the black pearl. Such incidents
have been put into plays and audiences have laughed over the
improbability, but here’s an indisputable fact. Charge it to the
long arm of coincidence, if you will, but in my own career I have
met so many occurrences that are stranger than fiction that I
cannot doubt the workings of coincidence any longer.

“Often during this engagement she had spoken of Mr. William Winter
in terms of gratitude and respect, and that the sentiment must have
been mutual we have ample verification in his many valuable books.
From these pages we of to-day are able to recreate once more the
golden art of the greatest _Juliet_ of all times. ’Dear William
Winter,’ I remember hearing her say, ’how much I have to thank him
for help and advice!’”

MISS NEILSON’S GOOD INFLUENCE.

Adelaide Neilson, whatever may have been the errors of her early life, was intrinsically a noble woman, and any man might well be proud to have gained her kindly interest. In the often abused art of acting, to pass, as she did, from the girlish glee and artless merriment of _Viola_ to the romantic, passion-touched, tremulous entrancement of _Juliet_, thence to the ripe womanhood of _Imogen_, and finally to the grandeur of _Isabella_, is to fill the imagination with an ideal of all that is excellent in woman and all that makes her the angel of man’s existence and the chief grace and glory of the world. All acting is illusion: “the best in this kind are but shadows.” Yet she who could thus fill up the measure of ideal beauty surely possessed glorious elements. Much for her own sake is this actress remembered--much, also, for the ever “bright imaginings” she prompted and the high thoughts that her influence inspired and justified as to woman’s nature. As the poet bore in his heart the distant, dying song of the reaper, “long after it was heard no more,” so and with such feeling is her acting treasured in memory. Woman, for her sake and the sake of what she interpreted, has ever been, by those who saw and knew her, more highly prized and reverenced,--a beneficent result the value of which cannot be overstated. As Byron wrote:

“The very first
Of human life must spring from woman’s breast;
Your first small words are taught you from her lips;
Your first tears quenched by her, and your last sighs
Breathed out in woman’s hearing.”

“PAUL ARNIFF.”

During Miss Neilson’s engagement at the Baldwin Belasco’s indefatigible industry had been bestowed on a play, modelled on “The Danicheffs,”--a drama on a Russian subject which had been produced at the Union Square Theatre, New York, February 5, 1877. His play, named “Paul Arniff; or, The Love of a Serf,” was derived in part from “The Black Doctor,” and was announced as “founded on one of the very best pieces ever produced at the Porte St. Martin Theatre, Paris.” It was not remarkable, being a loosely constructed melodrama,--some portions of which were well devised and

“_And O, to think the sun can shine,_
_The birds can sing, the flowers can bloom,_
_And she, whose soul was all divine,_
_Be darkly mouldering in the tomb_!”
--W. W.

From a miniature on porcelain.

Author’s Collection.]

cleverly written, while other portions were clumsy and turgid. It depicted the experience of a Russian serf, _Paul Arniff_, who, loving an imperious woman of exalted social station, _Marianna Droganoff_, and finding his passion played with, first forced that disdainful female into marriage with him (as an alternative to drowning with him, on a remote tidal island to which he had lured her), and subsequently, raising himself to distinction by development of his natural talents, gained her genuine affection, and made her happy. Recalling the production of that play, Belasco writes: “At the time ’Paul Arniff’ was put into rehearsal there was in the Baldwin company a tall, slender young woman of singular complexion and striking appearance, whose stage name was Adelaide Stanhope. She came from Australia, where she had gained some reputation, but she had had no good opportunity at the Baldwin and was discouraged and dissatisfied. She and I had become friends, she was cast for the heroine of my play and, knowing the cause of her discontent and wishing to help her, I built up her character all I could during rehearsals,--O’Neill, ever chivalrous, generous and sympathetic, acquiescing, though it encroached a good deal on his own part: but the success she made and her consequent happiness more than repaid us both. She afterward became the wife of Nelson Wheatcroft, with whom I was associated at the Lyceum and the Empire, in New York.”--The Baldwin stock company, succeeding Miss Neilson, presented “Paul Arniff” on July 19, 1880, and acted in that play for one week. This was the cast:

_Paul Arniff_ James O’Neill. _Count Andrea Droganoff_ James O. Barrows. _Baron Woronoff_ John Wilson. _M. de Verville_ ---- Doud. _Father Eliavna_ ---- Nowlin. _Marianna_ Adelaide Stanhope. _Princess Anna Orloff_ Jean Clara Walters. _Countess Droganoff_ Kate Denin. _Wanda_ Blanche Thorne. _Tforza_ Nellie Wetherill.

WANING FORTUNES AT THE BALDWIN.

Adelaide Neilson’s farewell season at the Baldwin Theatre (during which it was guaranteed that she should receive not less than $500 a performance) was almost the last notably remunerative engagement filled there during Maguire’s tenancy of that house. Indeed, theatrically, “the most high and palmy state” of San Francisco was passed, and the history of the Baldwin, and of the stock company at that theatre, for the two years which followed (July, 1880, to July, 1882), is one of anxious striving, strenuous endeavor, often brilliant achievement, public indifference, defeated hopes, declining fortunes, fitful renewals of prosperity quickly followed by periods in which bad business grew always a little worse, and ultimate failure and disintegration. When Belasco began his effort to rehabilitate and reëstablish himself there, “playing mostly bits,” as he expressed it to me, James H. Vinson and Robert Eberle were, officially, in charge of the stage and, though he did much, if not most, of the actual labor of stage management, his services were not publicly acknowledged. For reasons of business expediency, therefore, he, for a time, reverted to use of the name of Walter Kingsley, which appears in various programmes. After a few weeks, however, Eberle withdrew from the stage, devoting himself to business affairs of the theatre, and Belasco soon worked back into his former place as director and playwright. His “Paul Arniff” was followed, July 26, by the first presentment of a drama, taken from the French, entitled “Deception,” by Samuel W. Piercy, who personated the chief character in it, _Raoul de Ligniers_. Later, that play, renamed “The Legion of Honor,” was presented by Piercy in many cities of our country: it was brought out at the Park Theatre, New York, on November 9, 1880. That capital actor Frederic de Belleville, coming from Australia, made his first appearance in America when it was acted at the Baldwin. “Deception” was followed, August 9, by “An Orphan of the State” (known to our Eastern Stage as “A Child of the State”), and, on August 16, by the first appearance of John T. Malone, who performed as _Richelieu_,--Barton Hill playing _De Mauprat_. Belasco greatly liked Malone and, in his “Story,” gives this glimpse of him:

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE,--JOHN T. MALONE.

“An oldtime companion of mine at this period was John T. Malone,
studying for the Catholic priesthood. But beneath the cassock my
friend harbored a great love for the Stage, and among his intimate
circle had won quite a reputation as a Shakespearean scholar. I
remember the morning he came to the Baldwin Theatre and told me the
story of his ambition. I engaged him at once, struck by his
personality! ’I’ve been waiting many years,’ said he, and now the
time has come.’... Later, he supported Booth and Barrett and his
name will ever be associated with that splendid gentleman who
founded The Players. As the years passed he became a victim of
Time’s revenges; nurtured in the blank verse school, his
engagements became fewer and fewer until they utterly dwindled
away. Often I picture him as an actor of exceedingly great talent,
but it had no outlet for its practical use. His is one of the many
sad cases in the theatrical world of ’exits’ marked by poverty and
loneliness.”

I know not whether Malone ever studied for the priesthood: I know, however, that he was educated for the profession of law, and that in his young manhood he practised law in San Francisco. He was born in 1854, I believe in that city, and he died in New York, January 15, 1906: he richly merited commemoration. He was a good man and a talented, zealous, reverent servant of the Stage. No actor of our time more dearly loved his profession or more devoutly and unselfishly labored in its support, though his career was not attended with any specially brilliant achievements or extraordinary incidents. He was a careful and thoughtful student of Shakespeare, and his acquaintance with the works of the great dramatist was intricate, extensive, and minute. He wrote much upon that subject, and his contributions to contemporary magazines, in the vein of Shakespearean criticism, are of peculiar interest. In his domestic life he was unfortunate and unhappy, but to the last he retained a philosophical spirit and a genial mind. As a comrade, among intellectual men, he was both loved and admired,--because his nature was noble, his heart was kind, his taste was pure, his mind was rich, and his manners were gentle. It was a pleasure to know him, and the remembrance of him lingers sweetly in the recollection of a few old friends.

“TRUE TO THE CORE.”

On August 18 H. J. Byron’s comedy of “The Upper Crust” was played at the Baldwin, in conjunction with the burlesque opera of “Little Amy Robsart,” and that double bill held the stage for a fortnight. During that time Belasco completed an adaptation of the “prize drama” by T. P. Cooke, entitled “True to the Core,”--first acted at the Bowery Theatre, New York, December 17, 1866. It had been seen in San Francisco twelve years earlier, in its original form. I have been able to find only a mutilated programme of the performance of Belasco’s version, August 30, 1880, which gives part of the cast as follows:

_Truegold_ James O’Neill. _Geoffrey Dangerfield_ Frederic de Belleville. _Lord High Admiral of England_ A. D. Bradley. _Marah_ Adelaide Stanhope. _Mabel Truegold_ Lillian Andrews. _Queen Elizabeth_ Eva West.

“True to the Core” is an old-fashioned melodrama, of which the hero, _Truegold_, is an English pilot who passes through many “moving accidents by flood and field,” being seized by treasonous conspirators, placed on board a vessel of the Spanish Armada, which he pilots upon a rock, instead of into Portsmouth Harbor, and who is in danger, subsequently, of losing his head on the block rather than break his word, but who is followed, served, and ultimately saved by a gypsy woman, _Marah_, whom he has befriended. It was played for one week to audiences of fair size and was succeeded, in order, by William G. Wills’ “Ninon,”--acted September 6, for the first time in America,--“Aladdin Number Two; or, The Wonderful Scamp,” “Forget Me Not,” Bartley Campbell’s “The Galley Slave,” the same author’s “Fairfax,” and “Golden Game,”--all produced under Belasco’s care, and all, unhappily, performed to lessening receipts.

The next incident of note at the Baldwin was the coming of William E. Sheridan, who opened there November 15, playing _King Louis the Eleventh_, and whose advent brought back a measure of prosperity to the theatre. Belasco, in his “Story,” records this remembrance and estimate of Sheridan:

A STERLING ACTOR AND AN INTERESTING ESTIMATE:--WILLIAM E. SHERIDAN.

“We were sadly in need of an attraction at this time, and so, when W. E. Sheridan arrived, from Philadelphia, which city pointed to him with much just pride, we engaged him at a nominal salary, and immediately he soared into popularity, being acclaimed one of the most versatile actors who had ever visited the Coast. Three times his engagement was extended, for the people of San Francisco were loath to let him depart. His _Othello_ was a scholarly performance; ’A New Way to Pay Old Debts’ increased his popularity, as did also ’The Fool’s Revenge,’ ’The Lyons Mail,’ and _Shylock_. He was essentially a virile actor, forceful and with a magnetic voice that was music in the ear. And I have seen many a _Louis the Eleventh_, but he was the greatest of them all, not even excepting that wonderful genius, Sir Henry Irving. Success found him greatly astonished, for when he left Philadelphia he was practically unknown to any but his townspeople, and now when his name was heralded abroad, the East listened with a certain curiosity. As we played to crowded houses and the applause floated to his dressing-room, he could scarcely credit this sudden fame which had fallen upon him. More than once Sheridan turned to me and said: ’I’ve found it all out now when it is too late.’”

* * * * *

Belasco’s estimate of Sheridan is interesting and it should be preserved--because it _is_ Belasco’s: the opinion of the foremost stage manager of his time, about any actor, should be of interest. It would, however, be far more instructive and valuable if the _reasons_ for it were also given: but in a long experience I have found few commentators on acting who give reasons for their declared opinions. _Why_ Sheridan should have felt that he had “found it all out when it was too late” passes my understanding,--because, in 1880, he was in the very prime of life, forty years of age; contrary to Belasco’s impression, he was well known throughout our country, and, moreover, he continued to be abundantly successful for more than six years after his initial appearance in San Francisco. He was a sterling actor and richly deserved success. I knew him and liked him much. He took up “King Louis XI.” because of the immense impression created by Irving’s revival of that play at the London Lyceum, March 9, 1878, and he gave an effective and admirable performance in it. Nevertheless, he was not, in my judgment, even for a moment rightly comparable in the part with Irving,--because nowhere in his embodiment of _Louis_ did he reveal even an approximate of the wonderful personality, the indomitable intellect, the inerrant apprehension of subtle traits of complex character, or the faculty of identification, the grim menace, the baleful power, the grisly humor, or the exquisite felicity of expressive art with which Irving displayed his ideal of that human monster of cruelty and guile. Such acting as that of Henry Irving in the scene of _King Louis’_ confessional, the scene of his paroxysm of maniacal wrath, the scene of his supplication for life, and the scene of his august and awful death, opens the depths of the human heart, lays bare the possible depravity of human nature, depicts a great character in such a way as to illumine the historic page, and conveys a most solemn monition on the conduct of life.

During his first engagement in San Francisco Sheridan acted _Rover_, in “Wild Oats”; _Lesurques_ and _Dubosc_, in “The Lyons Mail”; _Claude Melnotte_, _Shylock_, _Richelieu_, _Othello_, _Hamlet_, and _Sir Giles Overreach_, in “A New Way to Pay Old Debts.” Laura Don, making her first appearance in San Francisco, November 24, played _Lady Amaranth_ to his _Rover_, and _Julie_ to his _Lesurques_: Lillie Eddington played _Pauline_, _Portia_, and other leading female parts with him. He was supported by “the new Baldwin Company,” which had been organized just prior to his coming to San Francisco, and which included Joseph R. Grismer and “Harry” Colton. All the plays were produced under Belasco’s stage management, and his familiarity with them and his indefatigable zeal in rehearsals made his assistance invaluable to Sheridan. That actor filled several subsequent engagements in San Francisco, and his acting so vividly impressed Belasco that he gave public imitations of him in _King Louis_ and in other parts. Sheridan served in the Union Army during the Civil War and attained to the rank of captain. He married the actress Louise Davenport (his first wife, Sarah Hayes, died in 1872), went with her to Australia in 1886, and died there, in Sydney, May 15, 1887. He was the impersonator of _Beamish McCoul_, in “Arrah-na-Pogue,” when that play was originally performed in America, at Niblo’s Garden, New York, July 12, 1865,--an occasion I have particular reason to remember because that was the first theatrical performance reviewed by me for “The New York Tribune.”

Of Laura Don, with whom Belasco became acquainted at the time of Sheridan’s first San Francisco engagement, he gives this recollection:

LAURA DON.--AN UNFULFILLED AMBITION.

“Laura Don was a painter whose landscapes and portraits had won her
distinction in the art world. Indeed, she was quite a spoilt child
of the Muses, for the gods had dowered her with many gifts. Nature
had been kind to her in every way, mentally and physically, for she
had a face and figure of great attractiveness; her every movement
was serpentine and voluptuous. This was further heightened by an
excitable temperament, keyed to the highest pitch, and I never saw
anyone who had a more insatiable thirst for fame; so much so,
indeed, that her health was on the verge of being undermined. I
saw in this woman every possibility of making a wonderful
_Cleopatra_, and when she had joined the Baldwin Theatre I spent
many hours after performances training her in the rôle (_sic_).
Then one Sunday afternoon, when we had reached the Death Scene,
Laura Don fell in a faint, and I looked down to find drops of blood
coming from her mouth. So this was the reason for the hectic flush,
for the irresponsible moods and eccentricities! When she came to,
we had removed every outward sign of her fatal malady. But Laura
Don was not to be deceived. Many times when we had been working
together she would exclaim, ’Why is it I am so weak? Why is it I do
not gain strength?’ For two days she remained in her room, and then
she sent for me and confessed that she had known all along of her
consumptive tendencies. ’I shall never play _Cleopatra_,’ she said;
’you must find someone else to take my place. I suppose we cannot
escape the fate imposed upon us. I was born a butterfly and I shall
die one. I’ve fought the idea for years, and I have been conquered.
So I shall go East and pass the time as well as I may until the
end. If you are anywhere near when “it” occurs, send me a few
violets in memory of those you have always kept on the rehearsal
table.’ Soon after her arrival in the East came her tragic death,
so that it was not very long before I had to send the flowers.”

Laura Don’s true name was Anna Laura Fish. She was the first wife of the theatrical agent and manager Thomas B. McDonough. She afterward married a photographer, resident in Troy, New York, whose name I have forgotten. She lived for

Photograph by Houseworth, San Francisco.

Original loaned by Mrs. David Belasco.]

about six years after Belasco met her. On September 6, 1882, at the Standard Theatre, New York, she produced a play called “A Daughter of the Nile,” written by herself, and appeared in it as a star. The principal person in it, a female named _Egypt_, is supposed to be of Egyptian origin: the subject, however, is American and modern. Miss Don never acted _Cleopatra_. She died, suddenly, at Greenwich, New York, February 10, 1886.

Sheridan’s engagement at the Baldwin terminated December 28, and the next night the well-known English melodrama of “The World,” by Paul Merritt, Henry Pettitt, and Augustus Harris, was performed there, for the first time in America. (Several years later, after Belasco had become established in New York, he was employed by Charles Frohman to make a revival of this play, which had been introduced to our Stage under his direction, in New Orleans.) On January 10, 1881, a drama called “The Eviction,” depicting some aspects of the landlord and tenant disturbances then rife in Ireland, was brought out and filled one week. On January 17 it was succeeded by a play called “Wedded by Fate,” the joint work of Edward Captain Field and Henry B. McDowell, son of General Irvin McDowell. The younger McDowell, possessed of wealth, proposed, through Belasco, to subsidize a production of their play in order to get it before the public, and Maguire, pressed for money, eagerly assented to that arrangement. Belasco, recalling the incident of bringing forth “Wedded by Fate” and the peculiarities of its principal author, writes thus:

“An instance of the casual devotee of the Theatre was young
McDowell, son of the famous Union general. Our first interview was
most amusing. I remember how he stutterred: ’I s-s-should l-l-like
to b-be an a-a-a-actor,’ he said, with difficulty. He also, in
common with many others, believed that he could write a successful
play and agreed that if I produced something of his very own he
would finance it and would guarantee a certain bonus. His first
effort--I forget the name of it--cost him a trifle of a fortune,
but inasmuch as it was a local play by a local author people
flocked to see it. When I met him years afterwards in New York he
was still obsessed by the theatrical bee, from which he never
recovered. With Franklin Sargent he opened The Theatre of Arts and
Letters and lost a fortune. If I had not been, at the time, under
contract to the Lyceum Theatre I should have joined McDowell in
that undertaking.”