Chapter V: Act V: (A lapse of years.) During the Revolution (2)

“Sweet Kitty Bellairs” was acted at the Belasco Theatre until June 4, 1904, when the season ended and that house was closed. It was revived there in the fall, September 3, and, with Miss Crosman in its chief part, was subsequently acted in many other cities. In the season of 1905-’06, Miss Crosman having retired from Belasco’s management, it was again revived, with Miss Bertha Galland as _Kitty_, and on October 5, 1907, with Miss Eva Moore in that part, it was played at the Haymarket Theatre, London. On February 3, 1904, while this comedy was in the full tide of its first success, one of the many groundless suits against Belasco, accusing him of plagiarism, was brought by Grace B. Hughes, otherwise known as Mary Montagu, who asserted that Belasco’s play was an infringement of one by her, entitled “Sweet Jasmine,” and applied for an injunction to stop him from further presentment of it. Her application was argued before Justice E. Henry Lacombe, March 18, and on March 26 was denied. One of the most vicious propensities of newspaper journalism was sharply illustrated in connection with Miss Montagu’s wanton aspersion on Belasco’s honesty: when it was _made_, her charge of plagiarism was generally and conspicuously published by the press; when it was _disproved_, it ceased to be “live news” and merely curt and, in general, obscure record was made of the issue. Minor “resemblances” between the two plays, adduced by the complainant in this action by way of substantiating her charge of literary theft, were such as the facts that in both a military band played music; in both “green” is mentioned as the color of grass, and in both a lover states the nature of his feeling toward the woman he loves. Yet, without any possibility of redress, Belasco was compelled to expend energy, time, and money on making a serious defence against the preposterous accusations of irresponsible frivolity! To oppose and defeat the suit of Miss Montagu cost him a large sum. There is no reasonable doubt that, in the majority of cases, such accusations of plagiarism as those which have been brought against Belasco are made in hope that the person accused will buy off the accuser as the quickest and cheapest way of ending annoyance. Belasco, however, has never gratified such hope; and he assured me: “I never will--for I prefer to lose a thousand dollars in money and ten thousand in time and trouble rather than to submit to blackmail.” In denying the writ applied for by this impudent defamer the court declared that “No direct evidence of copying, either of language or dramatic situation, is shown. A comparison of the two plays shows that _they are wholly dissimilar in plot, in characters, in text, and in dramatic situations_. The climax of one act in each piece was principally relied upon in argument--where the unexpected discovery of the leading character in a place where she should not be makes a dramatic situation.... This is an old device; it was common property to all playwrights since Sheridan used it in ‘The School for Scandal’ [And since long before that time!--W. W.]. Analyzing the details of the situations as presented in these two plays, the points of _essential difference_ so far outnumber the points of similarity that it is difficult to understand how anyone could persuade himself that one was taken from the other.”--The following letters provide an interesting side-light and commentary on the history of “Bellairs”:

(_David Belasco to Egerton Castle, in London._)

“Cartwright Cottage, “Manhanset Manor, New York, “August 29, 1904.

“My dear Mr. Castle:--

“You must pardon me for not replying to your letter. I am much run
down by overwork, and as I had to finish Mrs. Carter’s new play for
the coming season besides much other work my doctor ordered me to
the Adirondack Mountains, and before going I gave orders to my
secretary to keep all mail for me until my return. Thank you for
the story you sent. It is charming, but as it so closely follows
the line of ‘Sweet Kitty Bellairs,’ and as that play has made such
a success, I am afraid that another on the same subject and in the
same period would fall flat in this country. So if anyone applies
to you for the rights you will understand that I relinquish them.

“Next week ‘Sweet Kitty’ opens at my theatre for a few weeks, then
it will be started off on tour. I need not tell you the condition
of things theatrical in America. The Syndicate has brought nothing
but disgrace and humiliation to the profession. Things artistic are
at their lowest ebb. Last season was the worst financially the
theatres ever experienced. Many fortunes were lost. Outside of
‘Sweet Kitty Bellairs’ I don’t think any manager produced a
success. Of course I lost money on the production. A play of that
period is expensive, and as I make my productions perfect it
invariably takes me a year to get back the original cost. This
coming season is the year of the Presidential Election, which
always hurts the theatres, but I think we shall do well on tour
because of our New York success. I think it inadvisable to attempt
‘Sweet Kitty’ in England until after its first tour in this
country. If by chance it should slip up over in London it would
hurt our prospects for the play here. While the papers attach very
little importance to a play successfully produced in England, they
cable over a failure with sensational particulars, and it hurts all
throughout the country. I think it would be wise to arrange for the
production of ‘Sweet Kitty’ in London later, making the
arrangements during the coming season, but, as I stated, I don’t
think it would be well to produce it yet.

“Hope that you are meeting with every success. With best wishes to
Mrs. Castle and yourself,

“Faithfully, “DAVID BELASCO.”

(_David Belasco to Egerton Castle, in London._)

“The Belasco Theatre, “New York, March 3, 1905.

“My dear Mr. Castle:--

“Your letter of February 5 received. I regret very much that ‘Sweet
Kitty Bellairs’ has not done better than it has. But I am
constrained to attribute this to the fact that, in order to please
you, I put it on during an unpropitious season, when there was
little or no interest in plays of the Georgian period, because the
country was surfeited with them--with comic operas of the
Eighteenth Century, and revivals of Sheridan. Again, I myself had
just finished the production of ‘Du Barry,’ which, while it is of a
more regal nature than ‘Bellairs,’ is still of the Eighteenth
Century, a costume play of manners and customs. All this tended to
take from ‘Kitty’ the charm of novelty, a detraction which could
not be overcome by the fact that I spent more than $65,000 on the
production and gave it a cast comprising some of the highest
salaried artists in America.

“It was my intention to hold the play in reserve for Miss Bates,
and produce it this year, with her in the title rôle. She is one of
my own stars, and very popular. Had I done so, waiting for the
flood of plays of that period to cease, I am convinced the result
would have been far different.

“Miss Crosman closes in April, and I shall then recall the company,
store the production and send it out when the road conditions in
this country are more favorable. I believe it to be a valuable
piece of property over here, and that it may yet make enough money
to enable me to get back at least my original outlay. My loss up to
date on the play is $50,000.

“In regard to the English production, I deem it inadvisable to
commit myself at present, because I yet hope to have a theatre of
my own in London, and, in consequence, am saving all my material
for that time. Moreover, in ‘Kitty Bellairs’ I know so well the
things that made it a great artistic success in this country, and
there are so many details about the production to need my personal
supervision, that I should really be afraid to let it be put on
without me. To make the play ‘go’ at all, it must have a special
cast, without which its fate would be foredoomed, and I do not care
to trust the selection of this cast to another. In short, the
English production is a risk I do not wish to take, until I can
give it my own personal attention.

“With kindest regards, I am

“Faithfully, “DAVID BELASCO.”

“THE DARLING” IN LONDON.--A HEARTY TRIBUTE.

On December 28, 1903, the English actor and manager Herbert Beerbohm-Tree produced “The Darling of the Gods,” with notable success, at His Majesty’s Theatre, London,--himself appearing in it as _Zakkuri_, with Miss Marie Löhr as _Yo-San_ and George Relph as _Kara_. A characteristic instance of journalistic meanness was then provided by “The London Times,” which ascribed the beauty and perfection of Japanese detail in the production to the influence of Mme. Sada Yaco,--a Japanese eccentricity who had appeared on the stage in London and profoundly agitated the esthetic circle of “souls” resident in that city. As Tree’s presentment of the tragedy of Japan was made in faithful adherence to Belasco’s prompt book thereof and as Belasco never saw the Japanese actress, either on the stage or off, it would be interesting to learn in what manner her “influence” was exerted on him or his work. It is pleasant to turn from such paltry carping to read the hearty tribute paid by Tree, speaking from the stage of his theatre, in grateful acknowledgment of public approval:

“Ladies and Gentlemen:--I thank you for this splendid, wonderful
reception of ‘The Darling of the Gods,’ but I must tell you that
all the credit for what you have seen here goes across the ocean to
that great idealist and genius of the Theatre, my comrade David
Belasco, whom I so much admire. Never in all my career have I
received from anybody [else] such a perfect ’script of a play.
Every detail, every bit of costume, every piece of business, every
light, is set down for us, and every note of music furnished,
making it all so easy to produce this play that we can only claim
credit for carrying out instructions! Concerning the genius and
imagination that created it all and is responsible for it all,--I
must say that, knowing him as I do, I can see that it is all
Belasco-Belasco-Belasco, from the rise to the fall of the curtain.
Words are inadequate to pay tribute to him; but I shall have the
pleasure of sending him a cable to-night, to tell him how
tremendously you have all enjoyed and applauded this wonderful play
and how grateful we all are to him as well as you!

“Hereafter, it is my hope that Mr. Belasco and I shall do some work
in collaboration and that I may induce him to send us more of his
productions--perhaps, to bring them over himself and have them
acted for you under his own supervision....”

“Tree was always most generous to me,” Belasco has said; “and his ‘Darling’ speech made me very happy. I like appreciation and encouragement when I have worked hard and tried to deserve it. Always after doing my ‘Darling’ Tree used to address me as ‘Sir David,’ and several times in public speeches he said that if they had me in England they would knight me--which was very kind and lovely, but plain ‘Mister Dave’ is good enough for me!”

[Just before leaving this country for the last time Tree read Belasco’s striking play about the spiritual survival of man, “The Return of Peter Grimm,” and arranged to produce it in London,--an arrangement which was abrogated by his sudden and untimely death, July 2, 1917.--J. W.]

A STRENUOUS YEAR.

The year 1904 was one of peculiar perplexity and vexation for Belasco--of incessant strenuous labor and (as I deem) of most malicious harassment which might well have broken both his health and his spirit had he not been sustained by vital enthusiasm and a steadfast, invincible will. In that year he had not only to bear the heavy expense of producing “Sweet Kitty Bellairs,” together with the loss and anxieties incident to theatrical management amid generally disturbed business conditions and the distraction and annoyance of Miss Montagu’s monstrous lawsuit, but, also, he had to provide new plays and new productions for Mrs. Carter and for Warfield, to make his plans for the future of Blanche Bates, and to encounter at last the open and unrestricted animosity of the Theatrical Syndicate. “I am,” Belasco has truly said about himself (1903), “a patient and peaceful man: I don’t want to fight with anybody. I want to attend to _my_ business in _my own way_--to do my work unmolested and to interfere with nobody. But neither will I permit anybody to interfere with _me_, or to dictate to me, if I am able to resist.” And speaking of Belasco’s course in theatrical management, his general representative, B. F. Roeder, publicly declared at about the same time (June, 1903): “Mr. Belasco’s policy will remain exactly what it has always been. He will be independent of all factions and [will] place his companies wherever he can get the best terms and time.” Such a policy, indisputably right as it is, was not one which the Theatrical Syndicate would brook, and it soon brought that oppressive monopoly into direct and open conflict with Belasco in the conduct of his business. Foreseeing an immense popular interest in the World’s Fair (Louisiana Purchase Exposition) at St. Louis, in 1904, Belasco resolved that his superb production of “The Darling of the Gods” should concurrently be presented there. He felt great and wholly natural and frank pride in that production: he knew that he could not much longer hold together the company acting in it, and he desired that as many persons as possible should see his tragedy to the best advantage. When, however, he applied to the Syndicate booking agency, presided over by Mr. A. L. Erlanger, to arrange for an engagement in St. Louis, during “the Fair,” he was informed that it could not be done. He thereupon instructed his own booking agent, an experienced manager, William G. Smyth, to arrange for presentment of “The Darling of the Gods” at an independent theatre there, the Imperial, and his order was at once obeyed. It is not worth while to relate in detail the story of the attempt to coerce Belasco into cancelling that engagement: it is enough to state that (as he told me at the time) when it had proved impossible to intimidate him the uncouth Erlanger destroyed the contracts previously executed through his agency, between Belasco and theatre managers in various cities,--and, in profane and insulting language, sent him notice that he could not thereafter present his productions in _any_ Syndicate theatre.

WARFIELD IN “THE MUSIC MASTER.”--AN ANIMATED SPEECH.

Once committed to “open war” with the Trust and having got the St. Louis engagement of Miss Bates securely arranged, Belasco turned to completion of the plays for Warfield and Mrs. Carter. He had, at first, intended to write the Warfield piece unaided, but the demands on his time and strength had rendered that impossible and he had employed the late Charles Klein (1867-1915) to work with him. “I had,” he said, “given much thought to the subject of the play I needed for Warfield, but with all my other responsibilities and cares I found that I must get somebody else to do much of the actual writing. One night while having supper in a restaurant with Roeder, after the play, I told him that I was going to ask Klein to undertake it. ‘Well,’ Roeder said, ‘this is a good time to ask him--here he comes,’ and Klein, who had just come in, walked over to our table and told me he had been thinking for some time about writing a play for Warfield! I told him what I had in mind, and before we separated we had agreed to do the piece together.”

The outcome of that agreement was the play of “The Music Master,” which was produced for the

Photograph by Sarony. The Albert Davis Collection.

DAVID WARFIELD AS _HERR ANTON VON BARWIG_, IN “THE MUSIC MASTER”]

first time at the Young’s Pier Theatre, Atlantic City, New Jersey, on September 12, 1904. “The Music Master” is not remarkable for either originality of design or felicity of construction, but it is pure in spirit, interesting in story, picturesque in setting, and healthful in influence, and it was apparent from the first that it would have a long and abundantly prosperous career. There has been on our Stage such excessive exposition of vice and degradation, of the possible depravity of human conduct and wickedness of human motive, that it was an active benefaction to place such a play before the public, a positive blessing to receive the privilege of mental contact with its pure and noble ideal of humanity. It was announced, without qualification, as having been written by Charles Klein: that was an injustice. It is, in fact, a patchwork,--in the form in which Klein first shaped it being based to some extent on a play by Felix Morris (1847-1900) called “The Old Musician,” and then made over by Belasco, with a distinctively perceptible interfusion of dramatic expedients from that fine old drama “Belphégor; or, The Mountebank.” The central person, _Herr Anton von Barwig_, the Music Master, is a German musician, of a familiar type,--peculiar but attractive; impassioned but gentle; droll but piteous; fervid but patient: an image of moral dignity and self-sacrifice,--and the posture of situations and incidents that have been utilized for his presentment shows him as a loving father, occupied, under conditions of almost sordid adversity, in a quest for his daughter, whom an unworthy wife and mother has taken from him, flying, with a paramour, from Germany to the United States, whither he has followed them. That daughter, at last, he finds and, in circumstances cruel to himself, practically befriends by keeping the secret of her paternity. The conspicuous attributes of this person,--attributes blended and interwoven beneath a serio-comic surface of foreign manner and broken English,--are, intrinsically (of course with variant investiture), those that have long endeared such characters as _Michonnet_, _Triplet_, _Mr. Peggotty_, _Caleb Plummer_, and _Doctor Primrose_: attributes, namely, of love, charity, fidelity, fortitude, patience, humor, simplicity, spontaneous goodness, and an unconscious grace equally of conduct, manner, and thought. The purpose, manifestly, was to place an eccentric, gentle, affectionate, humorous, and somewhat forlorn elderly man in a predicament of sad circumstance, and in that way to arouse pity and stimulate the promptings of charitable impulse. That purpose was accomplished; and therefore, aside from all consideration of its inspiration and while the play is neither novel with invention, potent with strong dramatic effect, nor brilliant with polished dialogue, it possesses the solid worth of fidelity to simple life, the charm of diversified character, and the beauty of deep, tender, human feeling.

It was a wise choice to combine those attributes into a stage figure, and David Warfield,--finding himself liberated, mind and heart, into a congenial character,--gained in embodying it the most substantial success of his professional career,--making of that figure a vital emblem of heroism that is never flamboyant and virtue that is never insipid; an image of paternal affection that typifies innate dignity of character and the sweet, gentle, lovely patience of pure self-abnegation. In earlier performances this comedian was almost exclusively photographic; but time, thought, and practice,--the forces that constitute experience,--gradually expanded and ripened his art, and in his performance of this part (when repetition had eliminated excessive nervous trepidation and made it “a property of easiness” to him) he showed intuitive insight and was deeply pathetic. That is true success; because the higher purpose of acting a play is not proclamation of the talents of an actor, but liberation and enforcement of the utmost of beneficial influence upon an audience that a play contains. Warfield in “The Music Master” conquered by the two great virtues of simplicity and sincerity. The principal artistic defects in the personation--defects conspicuous in all Warfield’s acting and to the elimination of which he seems to be curiously indifferent--were a hard, metallic voice and a poor method of elocution. The best dramatic expedient in the play is that by which the father’s dubious, inchoate recognition of the daughter is confirmed. At that point and in the sequent situation (“lifted” from “Belphégor”) the actor evinced sympathetic delicacy and tempestuous fervor. The closing scenes of the play are marred by episodes of irrelevant incident and by prolixity, obscurity and artifice, in the long-drawn passage of parental and filial recognition,--which, indeed, requires but a glance.

Belasco has written the following reminiscence of the production of “The Music Master,” in which he shows just appreciation of the destructive result of those excessive expedients of stage “realism” which, in some of his earlier productions, impaired precisely the _effect_ they were designed to create:

“We always spoke of _von Barwig_ as ‘the music teacher.’ Naturally
that became the name of the play; but as the character grew our
musician impressed us as a master, and our title was changed to
‘The Music Master.’

“I think there were at least fourteen versions of this
comedy-drama. Even after the cast was engaged, we went over the
manuscript again. The entire Supper Scene in the First Act was
written while the company was assembled on the stage; so, too, was
the ending of the play. Such radical alterations were made at the
last rehearsal that one of the acts was almost entirely rewritten.
We had a scene, wherein _von Barwig_ dreamed of his past life in
Leipzig. While the stage was dark, a double took Warfield’s place
in the armchair and remained in view of the audience while Warfield
himself moved through the following scenes. He was shown as a young
man, writing the intermezzo which was to bring him fame and
fortune. Then he was seen directing the orchestra, then in his
home, where he came fresh from his triumph, to find a note from his
wife, telling of her departure, and on the floor a broken toy,--the
toy by which after many years he was to identify his daughter.
These scenes were mounted on movable platforms, easily set in place
without loss of time. They were shown with telling effect at
rehearsals, but I felt that the beauty of the actor’s art was
hampered by machinery. While Warfield was making quick changes,
hurrying on and off the stage, the beautiful simplicity of his work
was lost. The artist was of less importance than scenic changes and
effects. ‘This is not a spectacular play,’ I thought, ‘all these
external matters are carrying us too far from this man’s
performance.’ To the surprise of everyone, I ordered the scenes cut
out. Instead, I showed Warfield sitting in revery, and by means of
his changing expression and a few phrases dropped now and then the
story of his past was conveyed to the spectators. His simple acting
made it all as clear as though I had really used the various
scenes. At the same time attention was centred on the actor, not
on canvas.... The Last Act represented an attic with a skylight
with its cracked panes stuffed with cloths which fluttered
violently in the wind until some of them fell out and snow drifted
through the openings. I liked the snowstorm very much, as it
accentuated the misery of the characters grouped about a little
stove. Warfield did not like the storm, but he did not wish to say
so; so he took a novel way to be rid of it. ‘Brrr!’ he said as he
walked off the stage, ‘I’m cold! The snowstorm is so realistic it
has given me a chill!’ I ordered the weather changed at once....”

“The Music Master,” when first acted in New York,--at the original Belasco Theatre, September 26, 1904,--was cast as follows:

_Herr Anton von Earwig_ David Warfield.

_Signor Tagliafico_ } Musicians of the { W.G. Ricciardi. _Mons. Louis Pinac_ } Liberty Café. { Louis P. Verande. _Herr August Poons_ } { Leon Kohlmar.

_Henry A. Stanton_ Campbell Gollan. _Andrew Cruger_ William Boag. _Beverly Cruger_ J. Carrington Yates. _Mr. Schwarz_ Alfred Hudson. _Mr. Ryan_ Tony Bevan. _Al. Costello_ Louis Hendricks. _Joles_ Harold Mead. _Ditson_ H. G. Carlton. _Danny_ Master Richard Kessler. _A Collector_ Downing Clarke. _Mrs. Andrew Cruger_ Isabel Waldron. _Helen Stanton_ Minnie Dupree. _Miss Houston_ Marie Bates. _Jenny_ Antoinette Walker. _Charlotte_ Sybil Klein. _Octavie_ Jane Cowl.

After the Second Act Belasco was many times called before the curtain and finally, responding to insistent requests, addressed the audience in an exceptionally animated way, saying:

“I hope you will excuse me from making a formal speech; but I am
most happy to take this occasion to say that I am glad you like our
little play and glad that Mr. David Warfield has succeeded. And I
am happy, too, to take this occasion to say publicly how proud I am
of him and how very, very grateful I am for his loyalty to
me--loyalty that no persecution could shake and no malice
undermine! There have been lawsuits, plots, perjuries, and lies;
there have been vexations enough to weary the patience of a saint
(and I am not a saint, ladies and gentlemen!): but Mr. Warfield has
remained through it all unshaken and true to me--and I honor and
thank him: and, ladies and gentlemen, as long as I possess your
confidence and friendship no theatrical syndicates, with all their
money and outside influence, can crush me or dictate to me in what
way I shall conduct my business. I rejoice in Mr. Warfield’s
success, and since this play pleases you, I will only say that our
prosperity is just so much more ammunition with which to continue
the struggle for Justice and the triumph of Right in American
theatrical management!”

The appended letter, written by Belasco during the toil and strain of preparing his “Music Master” and “Adrea” productions, indicates his strenuous labor to make the former a success and his almost diffident estimate of his practically invaluable contributions to it as a playwright:

(_David Belasco to Charles Klein, at Merriewold Park, N. Y._)

“Shelter Island, Long Island, “New York, July 10, 1904.

“My dear Charles:--

“Act Second is now in the hands of Miss Edith. As you say you have
shipped the Third Act to me I am expecting it any hour. I shall
have Act One typed as soon as possible and fire it off to you. I
hope you will like the things I have done to it. I am so anxious
that your play shall be a sensational hit _that I am giving fifteen
hours a day to it_. Whatever I do I think will help the cause,--and
after all we are working for a big success. There is too much at
stake for us all not to take off our coats and work for life. You
have been bully, my dear Charles, from start to finish, and now
with good health and with God on our side you shall reap the
benefit of your patience and hard work.--I shall drop the acts
along to you as they leave Miss Edith, and as I said before, I hope
the work I have done on them will please you.

“Faithfully “DAVID BELASCO.”

CONCERNING WARFIELD, JEFFERSON, THE ELDER SOTHERN, AND THE “ONE-PART” CUSTOM.--AN AMAZING RECORD.

In commenting on Warfield’s great, indeed phenomenal, success and popularity in “The Music Master,” Belasco writes: “I have no doubt that he could become _a one-part actor_ and appear as _von Barwig_ perennially, just as Jefferson played _Rip Van Winkle_ and Sothern _Lord Dundreary_. However, neither he nor I approve of this plan.” It is singular, indeed, what a strange, delusive, ineradicable effect the parrot-like repetition of words sometimes creates. Belasco,--like the majority of other persons who mention the subject,--has got it firmly established in his mind that Jefferson and Sothern were what he designates as “one-part actors” (actors who, as he expressly states, follow a professional course of which he does not approve), and he will, I suppose, go to his grave serene in the conviction that such was the case and unconscious of the injustice he does both those great actors. Yet Sothern gave hundreds of performances in “Sam,” “David Garrick,” “The Crushed Tragedian,” “Home,” and “An English Gentleman” after his great success in “Lord Dundreary”; while Jefferson’s repertory embraced well over 100 parts; for every five performances he gave of _Rip_ he gave about three of _Bob Acres_, in “The Rivals,” and,--to the delight of audiences throughout our country,--he acted, hundreds of times, as _Dr. Pangloss_, in “The Heir-at-Law”; _Caleb Plummer_, in “The Cricket on the Hearth”; _Mr. Golightly_, in “Lend Me Five Shillings” (which, by the way, was the last part he ever played); _Dr. Ollapod_, in “The Poor Gentleman”; _Hugh de Brass_, in “A Regular Fix,” and _Mr. Woodcock_, in “Woodcock’s Little Game.” _Every_ exceptionally successful actor is _more_ popular in some one part than he is in any other, and as it was with Jefferson in _Rip Van Winkle_ and Sothern in _Dundreary_ so also is it with Warfield in _von Barwig_. Yet Warfield certainly is not a one-part actor,--though for every part he has played in the regular Theatre, aside from that one (exactly four, that is), Jefferson and Sothern each played anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five parts. Warfield, since his initial triumph as _von Barwig_, thirteen years ago [1917], has acted in a revival of “The Auctioneer,” and in “A Grand Army Man,” “The Return of Peter Grimm,” and “Van Der Decken.” Yet, time and again, wisely and rightly, Belasco has revived for him “The Music Master,” and always the public,--whether in the greatest cities of the country or the smallest “one-night stand” which he has visited,--has hailed him in that piece with joy and flocked in crowds to witness his touching and lovely performance. During the season of 1906-’07, when he fulfilled engagements in that play, of four weeks each, at the Majestic Theatre, Boston, and the Academy of Music, New York, the respective managers of those houses caused to be prepared, attested under oath, and delivered as souvenirs to Belasco statements which show that in eight weeks $171,179.25 was paid for the privilege of seeing Warfield’s impersonation of _von Barwig_. That is an amazing record, surpassing any similar and fairly comparable one known to me, and, therefore, I here transcribe the items of receipt:

_MAJESTIC THEATRE, BOSTON._

Week ending October 6, 1906 (seven performances), $16,443.50. Week ending October 13, 1906 (seven performances), 16,227.75. Week ending October 20, 1906 (eight performances), 18,676.50. Week ending October 27, 1906 (eight performances), 20,864.00. ------------ $72,211.75.

_ACADEMY OF MUSIC, NEW YORK._

Week ending February 2, 1907, $21,857.25. “ “ “ 9, “ 22,249.75. “ “ “ 16, “ 25,149.25. “ “ “ 23, “ 29,711.25. ------------ $98,967.50.

During the engagement at the Academy of Music, in 1907, the highest price charged for a seat was $1.50.

[Perhaps nothing more conclusively manifests the unbreakable hold of Warfield on the affections of the American public, in this play, than the facts that in the present season (1917-’18), notwithstanding the stress of war and that the character he portrays is a German, his audiences everywhere have, seemingly, been limited only by the capacity of the theatres in which he has appeared and that, as Mr. Belasco kindly informs me, his average gross receipts have been well over $14,000 a week.--J.W.]

The first engagement of “The Music Master” at the Belasco Theatre lasted until January 7, 1905, when it was withdrawn to make way for Mrs. Carter in “Adrea.” On January 9 it was acted at the old Bijou Theatre, and remained there until June 3.

Belasco was subjected to a peculiarly impudent and contemptible persecution when Joseph Brooks (the factotum of Klaw & Erlanger and, as asserted by Belasco, a mere “dummy” for that firm) attempted to maintain a claim of partnership with him in the production and presentment of “The Music Master.” The contract signed by Brooks and by Belasco, in 1901, providing for professional exploitation of David Warfield, assigned the contract made in November, 1900, between Belasco and Warfield, to the Belasco-Brooks “partnership”; and

Photograph in Belasco’s Collection.

SCENE IN FRONT OF THE BELASCO THEATRE, PITTSBURGH, PA.

Ten o’clock in the morning, December 6, 1906: Opening of the sale of tickets for David Warfield’s engagement in “The Music Master”]

the Belasco-Warfield contract, which covered the seasons of 1901-’02-’03, provided for a renewal at the end of that term. Brooks, accordingly, after “The Music Master” had been written on Belasco’s instigation and in large part by him and after it had been produced solely at his expense and risk, claimed a one-half interest in that prosperous venture and sought an injunction to prevent the play from being presented except under management of “Brooks & Belasco.” His claim was flatly disallowed in a decision of the New York Supreme Court, rendered by Justice Leventritt on October 31, 1904, in the course of which the court said:

“...Undisputed proof by affidavit is offered that the [three]
theatrical seasons contemplated [in the Belasco-Warfield contract]
ended about the first of May or at all events before the first of
June. The _alleged_ renewal was made by the plaintiff Brooks
several weeks after this latter date.” Furthermore, held the court,
“Whether the option [of renewal] in fact passed to the firm [of
Belasco & Brooks]; whether, if it did, the plaintiff could exercise
it, are questions open to grave doubt; but, conceding the right of
the plaintiff Brooks, the papers show an exercise of the option
after the close of the third theatrical season and insufficient
proof of a custom that the right survived the termination of the
season.... To enjoin a successful actor’s lucrative performance of
a successful play under (_sic_) such circumstances, when in
addition no question of financial responsibility is presented,
would be to grant, in advance of trial, on insufficient proof, the
very relief which the action itself seeks. Motion denied, with ten
dollars costs.”

Belasco’s feeling about “The Music Master” and his esteem of and loyalty to his friend Warfield are pleasantly shown in a declaration which he made about them several years ago:

“From the time the play opened until the present day I have had
many offers for it. George Edwardes promised an enormous guarantee
if we would come to England. George Newnes, proprietor of ‘The
Strand Magazine,’ said: ‘I am not a theatrical manager, but I want
to bring your play and Mr. Warfield to England.’ Cyril Maude,
Arthur Bourchier, and Sir Herbert Beerbohm-Tree all applied for the
acting rights. Another great fortune could be made out of the piece
were I to allow it to be played in stock and moving pictures, but I
have turned a deaf ear to all inducements. ‘The Music Master’ is
for David Warfield; more than that, The Music Master _is_ David
Warfield.”

A SHEAF OF OLD LETTERS: IN THE MATTER OF THE THEATRICAL SYNDICATE.

All of the following letters by Belasco were written during the first year of “The Music Master,” and they well characterize the purposes of the Theatrical Syndicate and well indicate Belasco’s lively opposition to that oppressive monopoly. The second of them is addressed to his cousin, the son of the famous English actor David James, and it refers to a proposal made by the younger actor so named that he should be brought to America, to act in some of his father’s parts, under the management of Belasco.

(_David Belasco to Blanche Bates._)

“Belasco Theatre, New York, “September 28, 1904.

“My dear ‘St. Louis Pet’:--

“Thanks for your message. It was sweet of you and your dear mother
to think of me. Warfield and his little play hit them _hard_, and
we have struck another terrific blow in the _solar plexus_ of the
Syndicate.

“Mrs. Carter’s new play [“Adrea”] is written and I am already at
work on yours [“The Girl of the Golden West”]. I am crazy to see
you and go over the story before I get at the dialogue. As soon as
Mrs. Carter’s play is produced I shall join ‘The Darling of the
Gods’ for a few weeks, as we must have a lot of talks together. I
am going to do something _bully_ for you,--a part that you will
love. Won’t you be happy when you are again playing in New York at
the home theatre!

“Keep well. Love to your mother,--and remember I am

“Always your friend, “DAVID BELASCO.”

(_David Belasco to David James, Jr., in London._)

“Belasco Theatre, “New York, October 14, 1904.

“My dear David James:--

“Yours of October the 1st received. Yes, I did answer your former
letter. No doubt it followed you about and was finally lost.
Things theatrical are in a very bad way over here just now, and I
am still in the midst of a big combat with what is known as the
Theatrical Syndicate--a combination of men who have got together to
disgrace the Stage and commercialize it, root and branch. It is
rule or ruin with them, and unless they can force a heavy tribute
from a man he is blacklisted forthwith. I am fortunate enough to be
on their blacklist, and consequently am obliged, for the present,
to move with cautious steps and to make no more productions than I
can safely place. But it is to be hoped that a season or two will
see the lifting of this dark cloud. When that time comes, I shall
be only too happy to introduce you in this country. I know your
work and I feel sure that you would make yourself heard over here
had you the opportunity. Will you not drop me a line now and then?
I am always pleased to hear from you.

“Faithfully yours, “DAVID BELASCO.”

(_David Belasco to Peter Robertson, San Francisco._)

RIGHT “Belasco Theatre, New York, “April 25, 1904.

“Dear Peter:--

“[E. D.] Price and Fred [Belasco] have been ‘kicking’ about the
vile cigars in San Francisco, so I am sending you a few weeds that
ought to be better than the Barbary Coast perfectos. Sorry I can’t
deliver them in person, but I cannot get away this year; so when
you are smoking them think of your old
Four-o’clock-in-the-morning-pie-chum. Heavens, my dear Peter, I
often think of those dear old days! They were struggling days for
us, to be sure, but sometimes I feel that, at least as far as I am
concerned, they were the happiest ones of life. Ambition is a
hard, hard master, and from the moment when I left ’Frisco it has
been constant work-work-work with me,
morning-noon-and-night--winter and summer! I don’t think I have had
half-a-dozen hours to myself in all that time, and to make my lot
easier, away off here in the East, I am surrounded by that
inartistic, low-lived Theatrical Syndicate, which for some reason
or other,--certainly not justly for anything I have done,--has
waged a relentless war against me. And since I cannot with honor
play in Syndicate houses I am sending my stars and productions
anywhere that I can find a roof to cover them. So far they have not
crushed me, as they said they would, for the public and the press
throughout the country have stood by me, and as long as I continue
to deserve their sympathies and friendship I shall be victorious.
In this combine against me, my dear Peter, are Al. Hayman and the
Frohmans, to whom you know I have given the best years of my life,
helping to make fame and fortune for them. Of course, with Charles
Frohman it is jealousy: Daniel Frohman resents not being able to
get my plays for nothing: with the Syndicate it is because they
feared I was getting a little too strong for them. But you knew me
as a boy--in fact, we were boys together--and no one in the world
knows better than you how I can struggle with privation and
adversity. I shall never surrender to this crowd: _never_--not even
if I am obliged to return to ’Frisco and do chores about a theatre
as you saw me do in the long, long ago.

“Well, I have written more than I intended to, telling you my
troubles, but I shall make it a rule to send you a line now and
then and let you know all the good and cheerful news of the East. I
would give a finger to be able to drop in on you at this moment
for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie in the little old
restaurant, if it is still in existence, and to have an old-time
heart-to-heart talk. But I hope it won’t be very long before I can
do this. Hurrah! God bless you!

“Faithfully, “DAVID BELASCO.”

(_Peter Robertson to David Belasco, in New York._)

“Bohemian Club, San Francisco, Calif., “May 9, 1904.

“My dear Dave:--

“I shall smoke the cigars to your continued success. I was glad to
hear from you; but I don’t sympathize in the least with your
suffering from hard work. I did sympathize much more with you in
the days when you worked,--often quite as hard and got no
salary!--‘faking’ plays for Maguire, at the Baldwin. You would
never be happy, anyway, if you hadn’t your head full of schemes,
and were not constantly producing. Your work has achieved a great
success, and work that has success behind it and success before it
is life at its best. There is nothing so hard as work that has
failure to pull it backward and the prospect of failure to push it
back.

“_I_, too, think of the old days of coffee and cake; they were
pleasant, after all; if I had lived much beyond them since they
would still be pleasant to recall. However, my life goes on in its
even tenor, and I make myself as comfortable as possible, though I
do feel something like an old, worn-out hack--so many years I have
gone the same old round. Still, I have not quite given up hope of
better fortune.

“Go on and make your name and fortune greater than ever, and don’t
work yourself up over any Syndicates. They need you more than you
do them.--My regards to Mrs. Belasco and the family, and Fred and
Price.

“Always yours, “PETER.”

Belasco, I surmise, must have smiled a little grimly at this airy admonition “not to work himself up” about the active antagonism of the Syndicate: the cheery advice to the weaker party in a conflict, “Go in and win,” is doubtless excellent, but often, unhappily, it is somewhat more difficult to follow than it is to give. Viewed from the secluded tranquillity of the old Bohemian Club--that genial harbor of congenial spirits--a struggle with the Syndicate may have seemed like a fight with a phantom. For Belasco it was, and for many years remained, a hard reality, and had it not been for his wary vigilance and indomitable resolution he would certainly have been defeated, overwhelmed, and ruined.--Poor Robertson never realized his “hope of better fortune”: for several years after 1904 he continued to be the dramatic critic of “The San Francisco Chronicle”: then, the whole duty of the managing editor (as defined by my old friend, the journalist William Seaver--“first, to wring your brains dry; second, to throw you away”) having been performed, he was dismissed from his employment and, after two or three years of anxious, dispirited, lonely waiting, he died--and, save by a few old friends, he is thought of no more.

METHOD OF COLLABORATION.

The tragedy of “Adrea,” begun in 1903, was completed before September, 1904, and it was put into rehearsal, at the Belasco Theatre, in October of the latter year. The following letters which passed between Belasco and his friend and associate John Luther Long afford an informing glimpse of their methods of collaboration in authorship, which Belasco has described in these words: “Before the actual writing of ‘Adrea’ we had the story [worked out] to the smallest detail. He lived in Philadelphia, but spent the latter part of each week with me. After the plot was finished we adopted a new system of collaboration. Mr. Long and I worked on the scenes apart, then met and joined them together. Then he revised the result and then I revised the result, and so on, until the sixth or seventh version found the scene in very good condition.”

(_John Luther Long, in Philadelphia, to David Belasco, in New York._)

“------, (?) 1903.

“I have now, my dear Goliath, been pretty well over the history of
Rome, once more, and I have found only two places where we MIGHT
possibly stick in our pin. One is the Augustan Era, and Livia and
Julia; the other is the reign of Claudius and Messalina. I don’t
think you would like either. I am sure _I_ don’t! Besides, both
have been done to death. There were NO woman rulers of Rome, and
only one--Messalina--who took much of a hand at politics. I think
we shall finally agree upon some island or mountain plateau--the
latter commends itself because the other has been so often done. I
think we could use either the island of Pandataria in the Adriatic,
or the little island of Ilva in the Mediterranean. We could have
all the Roman splendor there, without the handicap of being,
unhistorically, IN Rome. Here is the scheme which outlines itself
in my mind:

“When Rome was finally subdued, in A.D. 476, Romulus was on the
throne. He was kicked out and sort of lost--though he is said by
some of the histories I have read to have gone to live privately in
the Campagna. He does not seem to have left any heirs. But let us
give him some. Or _one_. This one seeks out one of these islands
and takes with him some Romans to build anew the debased Roman
Empire with the blood of the old Patricians alone. It is this
kingdom, several hundred years later,--so that four or five of
Romulus’ descendants may intervene,--where we locate our play. And
now, there are no males of the pure Roman blood and the succession
falls to the two women.

“I rather dislike the creation of a name, such as Romancia or
Ruritania or such like, and I think we could use the real name of
the island, if we adopt it. And both are pretty good names.
Pandataria. Ilva. Or we could, as you suggested, make some name out
of the real names: Pinda--Illus--Illa--and so on. All the histories
stop at that wonderful period of ours, 476 A.D., when our Odvokar
did the trick. (One of them goes on to say that he stops there
because the rest is too indecent for publication!) But I am on the
track of some good books treating of that period--though I don’t
expect to find a woman or a ruler in it all. For, in this period,
ALL the sovereigns, without exception, were elected by the soldiers
in the field and the corrupt pretorians at home--with, once in a
while, the people waking up and saying a word. After I have well
looked up this period, I will run over and we will talk--when you
can spare the time.

“Don’t forget to tell your girl to send me the copies she makes. If
anything should happen, by fire or flood, you have all the stuff
over there.

“Yours, “J. L. L.”

(_David Belasco to John Luther Long, in Philadelphia._)

“The Belasco Theatre, “New York, April 2, 1904.

“My dear Jonathan:--

“You are right about the bench. I had already noted it and called
Buckland’s and Gros’ attention to it, but outside of that
correction, when we make the model, both the scenes will be
corkers, full of the right sentiment and feeling--the atmosphere
perfect. I am running over to see Mrs. Carter to have a talk with
her about certain people for the cast

Inscription:

“_God bless you, dear friend! Faithfully, David Belasco._”

“_To William Winter, Esqre._”

Photograph by the Misses Selby.

Author’s Collection.
]

and also a general chat as to the costumer. She is miles deep
planning them already. Before she goes to ’Frisco you and I
together will have a talk with her.

“I am on the Fourth Act all the time. It is great--_great_--GREAT.
They can’t beat us--we are the top notches! Furst is going insane
with pleasure over his share of the work. He loves it and is so
infatuated that he is good for nothing else at present. In fact,
everybody who has anything to do with the play is wild over it. I
shall be back on Monday. What day after that can you come over? We
will get in some big licks with Buckland, as I want to start him on
the properties, etc., as soon as possible. God give us health and
strength to knock out the great play!

“Faithfully, “DAVID.”

(_John Luther Long to David Belasco._)

“Gosh! but that letter is full of good news, Goliath dear! When the
scenery and costumes begin to materialize it looks as if the
brain-squeezing would really amount to something. I shall have the
Fourth ready for you by the middle of next week. Let me know a few
days in advance of the time you want it, so that it can be copied.
I am leaving a few little things to look up, but they are not
important: such as _drums_--whether they had them in the legions;
and, if so, what were their forms: and the Roman military salute.
But I am practically done with the act. I’d like to see the models
for the First. Perhaps I can, soon. I am feeling O.K. Equal to all
the work two hands and one head can do. Don’t bother about Frohman.
We’ve got him beaten! This Fourth Act, as I get into it, is
wonderful! Send on the Epilogue whenever you are ready with it. I
am doing nothing but the Fourth and shall not, till I send it on to
you.

“Hail, Luna of Adrea!”

“J. L. L.”

MRS. CARTER AND THE TRAGEDY OF “ADREA.”

The tragedy of “Adrea,” by Belasco and Long, is a composition of exceptional imaginative scope and of great dramatic power. Its scene is a royal court of a conjectural kingdom, situated on an imaginary island in, perhaps, the Adriatic Sea. Its time is named as about the fifth century of the Christian era,--a time well chosen for poetic and romantic purposes; for the vast Roman Empire had then become extinguished in Western Europe and was slowly crumbling to pieces in the East, and minor monarchies can credibly be supposed to have flourished in such an era of transition and a martial chieftain out of Noricum to have dallied with the daughters of a Roman Prince. It is a play without historic basis; an authentic creation of the inventive brain; a vigorous and splendid work of art, moving freely in a broad field. It deals with great themes,--great passions, crimes, and sorrows; great and terrible punishments of sin, and the spectacle of great character made sublime by grief. Much of its movement proceeds in the open air: some of it beneath the vault of night; and its web involves the terrors of tempest and the mystery and dread of spectres from the realm of death. The form and color of it are modern,--a form and color of rosy amplitude and voluptuous luxuriance; but the feeling that pervades it is the ominous feeling of the old Greek tragedies of fate and doom. Its defect is excess--an excess of persons, objects, pictures, emotions, and words; the superflux that proceeds from intensely passionate feeling in the conception of the story and especially in the conception and development of its central character. An affluence of fancy is, however, more grateful than the frigid sense of want. This is a synopsis of it:

The action begins in a spacious scene, in front of the royal palace of the monarchs of the island kingdom. The _Princess Adrea_ is the blind daughter of _Menethus_, _King of the Adrean Isles_. She is older than her sister, the _Princess Julia_, and on the death of her father she would succeed to the throne, if she were not blind: for the law of _Menethus_ has ordained that “No sovereign shall wear the crown who is not, both in mind and body, sound.” The play opens on the hundredth day after the death of _Menethus_. The _King_ is dead, and the hour has come for the crowning of his successor. The _Princess Julia_, long known as “the imperial wanton,” with a company of her kind, is holding a festival. _Kaeso_, born a barbarian, but later a pretorian tribune, having come to Adrea, with his troops, intent on usurping the throne of _Menethus_, sees a readier way of conquest, in a marriage with the _Princess Julia_, soon to be _Queen_. He has been made her favorite, and marriage with him is to follow her coronation.