Chapter VII: Act V: (A lapse of years.) During the Revolution (4)

Using the despotory power alluded to by Mr. Untermyer, the Syndicate closed all the theatres of Washington against Belasco when he attempted to arrange for the presentment of his tragedy. “My _penchant_ for giving the first performances of my plays before the Washington public, because I got the real start of my independent career there,” Belasco remarked to me, “may be, as some unfriendly critics have declared it, a ‘sentimental folly,’ but it pleases me to do so, and it seems to me to be a matter for _me_ to decide. The less likely it became that I could get into Washington with ‘Adrea’ the more determined I became to do so.” The result of his determination was that Belasco suddenly and privately hired Convention Hall, a vast, barn-like place in Washington, inconvenient of access, situated over a market, with seating capacity for more than 5,000 persons. It contained no stage and was in every way unfit for theatrical use: in brief, what Belasco did was, first, to hire a roofed space, and then build a theatre beneath it,--incidentally complying with all the mysteriously sudden and preternaturally exacting requirements of various administrative departments of the District of Columbia. “In all my experience,” he remarked to me, “I never knew such vigilance to be exercised about a theatrical performance, and I should never have been able to meet the almost incessant and sometimes most unreasonable demands upon me if it had not been for the kindly advice, guidance, and assistance of Senator Gallinger and of Speaker Cannon, who had been interested in my fight by a _protégé_ of his, Mr. Sidney Bieber; but, one way or another, every demand was met.” About one-third of the hall was partitioned from the rest of it by a temporary wall and a proscenium arch. Behind this a commodious stage was erected,--all the labor of building being performed by a company of mechanics brought by Belasco from his New York theatre. The iron girders supporting the roof and also the exposed parts of the ceiling were draped and covered with fire-proof cloth and gauze, dark green in color. Several carloads of rich hangings and furniture which Belasco had originally purchased for use in “Du Barry” and “The Darling of the Gods” were taken to Washington and used to decorate the interior of this improvised theatre. Seats were arranged, the aisles were carpeted, “boxes” were built, a gallery was erected at the rear; a chill and barren loft was converted into a spacious, warm, and handsome playhouse, and on Christmas Eve all seemed to be in readiness for the opening--and then the Fire Department condemned the electric-lighting system. “For a little while,” said Belasco, in relating the story of this enterprise, “I thought they had me beaten, and after I had spent thousands of dollars. But I put my case before the Edison Electric Company--and between Saturday and the following Monday evening the Edison people tore out the condemned system of wiring, put in a new one, laid a special main for the supply of current, got it all inspected and passed, and we opened as advertised on Monday night! _I_ wanted to get out on the footlights and crow! As to safety--everything had been done and we had, for an audience of 1,400, the spaces, exits, and stairways previously considered safe for crowds of from 5,000 to 6,000.”

Belasco’s conversion of Convention Hall into a theatre, for the production of “Adrea,” and the difficulties encountered by him in doing so caused much comment in the newspapers of the capital, and shortly before the first performance he published the following letter in “The Washington Post”:

“The editorial in this morning’s ‘Post,’ under the title, ‘Theatre
Regulations in Washington,’ conveys several erroneous impressions,
and I ask this intrusion on your space to state certain facts with
which the Washington public has not hitherto been made familiar.
When I conceived the idea of using Convention Hall for Mrs. Leslie
Carter, my very first step was to come to Washington personally, to
learn directly from the heads of the building, fire, and electrical
engineering departments what changes or safeguards would be
required by each to enable me to use Convention Hall with their
entire approval and in conformity with the law. During a series of
subsequent conferences plans were made and submitted, embodying not
only all the requirements of each department, but several
additional improvements--such as wider aisles, more exits, broader
exit space, etc. These plans were fully approved by the necessary
officials of the District.

“Having thus secured the proper indorsement, and having placed
myself right with the municipal departments, I proceeded at great
expense to make these extensive alterations, seeking, above all, in
the interest of the public, to fulfil not only the letter but also
the spirit of the law. I already have done more than I was asked to
do, and no obstacle was raised until after the work was completed.
The structural changes have been made in strict and ready
compliance with the requirements of the District officials, and
under their supervision. _My one thought, first, last, and all the
time, was to comply with the law and protect the public._ I fully
believe that I have done so.”

The representation of “Adrea” was received with extraordinary enthusiasm by a large and brilliant audience, not a single member of which left before the close of the performance, long after midnight. During the Fourth Act a violent rainfall, beating on the iron roof of the hall, rendered much of the dialogue inaudible, and soon, the roof leaking in many places, water poured down through the cloth and gauze hangings, deluging the audience with green rain. “I saw Admiral Dewey, in one of the boxes,” said Belasco, “holding an umbrella over a lady whose beautiful white gown was ruined with green blotches; and in another Secretary Morton and Admiral Schley with the green water splashing down on them. But, even though they had to sit under umbrellas or be soaked, _my audience stayed to the very end_! Is it any wonder I love the Washington public?”

In the local newspapers, on Christmas Day, Belasco published the following notice “To the Washington Public”:

“Mr. Belasco begs to state that his occupancy of Convention Hall
for Mrs. Leslie Carter’s initial performances of her new play is
because of the opposition of the Theatrical Trust, through whose
dictation no theatre in Washington is permitted to book his
attractions. Unwilling, however, to surrender his custom of making
his productions first in this city, he has rebuilt the interior of
Convention Hall, in strict observance of the legal requirements of
the District departments, and with every regard for the comfort and
safety of his patrons. He begs also to thank the people of
Washington for the friendship and most liberal support which
already assure the success of his independent enterprise.”

When called upon the stage during the opening performance of “Adrea” Belasco made a brief speech of thanks, the first sentence of which brought an outburst of applause that lasted for more than two minutes:

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, they did not prevent my opening in
Washington. And as long as this is a free country and I am able to
fight for independence in theatrical management, I will open my
companies in Washington, or in any other city that I elect to
visit. It is very late: I won’t detain you but a moment, just to
thank you in words that can’t convey my thanks for your approval,
your sympathy and support. Mrs. Carter, Mr. Long, all my company,
my staff--my loyal, splendid staff, carpenters and mechanics who
have worked here, ladies and gentlemen, for as much as forty-eight
hours at a stretch to make this opening possible--they all are
grateful to you, and I thank you, and thank them, again and again.
It would be strange indeed if we were not willing to fight for the
chance to play before you when you are all so kind to us and when
the man who fought the Battle of Manila Bay and the man who fought
the Battle of Santiago are willing to sit in a sort of green
shower-bath to watch us!”

Belasco gave seven performances of “Adrea” during his week in Washington, the gross receipts from which were more than $15,000. And when that engagement was over and the accounts had all been made up and paid he had suffered a loss of a little more than $25,000.--On the first night in New York he made a significant speech in which he said:

“...Nobody could ask--nobody could wish--for any more splendid
loyalty, support, and encouragement than I have received from you,
from the people of New York, from the people of every place in
America where I have presented my companies, and I am grateful,
very, very deeply and lastingly grateful, ladies and gentlemen. But
conditions in the American Theatre are bad, ladies and
gentlemen,--very bad indeed--and they ought to be remedied. The
institution we all love should not be left at the mercy of
high-handed, brow-beating, un-American hucksters. We are not afraid
of anyone, ladies and gentlemen: we--all of us; my associates, my
business staff, my splendid, loyal mechanical staffs, my
actors--have had a long, a hard and bitter struggle and have
suffered very serious annoyances and loss. I have just paid more
than $25,000 for the privilege of presenting this tragedy for one
week in the City of Washington. We do not ask or expect that life
should be made easy for us; we can fight, just as you can, for our
rights. But I say, ladies and gentlemen, that it is a crying
outrage and a burning shame that men and women who simply want to
go about their own business in their own way should be forced, in
this day and country, to undergo what we (all of us here behind the
curtain and in the offices of my theatre) have to undergo from week
to week. And, ladies and gentlemen, it is you, the public all over
this great country, who are most injured by it all--because we
cannot give you what you are entitled to get from us when you pay
your money to see our plays and what we want to give you,--that is,
the very best there is in us: we cannot give you that, ladies and
gentlemen, when we have to give so much of our time and strength
and energy and enterprise and courage to fighting a criminal
monopoly when we ought to be giving it and want to be giving it to
writing and producing plays and acting in them, for your
entertainment and pleasure.”

EXIT MRS. CARTER.

“Adrea” was the last new play in which Mrs. Leslie Carter appeared under the direction of Belasco. Her first season in that tragedy closed at the Belasco Theatre, May 4, 1905; the second (in the course of which she acted _Du Barry_ and _Zaza_

Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.

MRS. LESLIE CARTER AS _ADREA_, IN THE TRAGEDY OF THAT NAME]

as well as _Adrea_) began there, September 20, that year, and lasted until June 23, 1906, when it was ended at Williamsport, Pennsylvania. Differences of opinion and divergence of interests had been growing for some time between the manager and the actress who owed so much,--everything, in fact,--to his sagacity and guidance. On July 13, 1906, at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Mrs. Carter was married to William Louis Payne, and withdrew from the direction of Belasco,--Mr. Payne assuming the care of her affairs. In _Adrea_ she touched the highest point of all her greatness and, thereafter, may fairly be said to have hastened to her setting. At the time of her withdrawal from Belasco’s management he was at work on a new play for her, dealing with the experience of an Hungarian immigrant. It was to be called “Repka Stroon”: although it has been finished it has not yet been acted. Mrs. Carter has done nothing of lasting importance since her personation of _Adrea_. Her acting, at its best, was far stronger in the emotions than it was in the intellect; but, in _Adrea_, she met and endured the test of tremendous situations involving conflict of various passions, and in that respect she proved her possession of tragic power. In fact, the defects of her performance of that part were wholly in the superficial texture of the method, and it came home to the heart with an exceeding effect of pathos because of the sad knowledge with which it was freighted,--the knowledge of affliction and of grief.

SIGNIFICANT MESSAGES.

The following telegrams, sent by Belasco and his general manager, Roeder, are significantly indicative of the consideration shown by the former toward the players in his employ, as well as of the character of his mind, and for that reason they are printed here: the actor referred to, Mr. Benrimo, who played the _Fool_ in “Adrea,” might properly enough have been transferred to Mrs. Carter’s company, without discussion:

(_Telegram, David Belasco to Blanche Bates, in St. Louis._)

“New York, October, 1904.

“You know I would not do anything to imperil your cast or to
jeopardize our western tour. Always thought it unadvisable to
double _Prince_ and _Kato_ in San Francisco and always intended
sending another man to play _Prince_.

“If it were not absolutely necessary for me to have Benrimo in my
new play, I would not ask for him. There happens to be no man
disengaged at present to suit this peculiar part, which means so
much to the success of the play. You may not quite understand why
it should be so, but so it really is. At the present moment I am
engaged in the greatest fight of my life and everything depends on
this new production. Its success will leave me free to give all my
attention to your new play for next season and will ensure the
working out of all my plans. It is only with our triumphs that I
can hope to beat the Syndicate. My dear girl, by this time I am
sure you have reconsidered your telegram and will help me out.
Please--please, do! There is nothing within my power that I will
not grant if you ask it, so I beg of you again, please help me out.

“DAVID BELASCO.”

(_Telegram, Benjamin F. Roeder to Blanche Bates in St. Louis._)

“New York, October, 1904.

“In making original cast ‘Darling’ Mr. Belasco requested other of
his stars, who gladly consented. Regret, as one of your best
friends, that you don’t follow dictates your own heart and accord
what is, after all, only a courtesy. Mr. Belasco has been kind and
generous to you always. Money has never stood in way when he could
do anything to make you happy. In consequence Chicago fire we are
still much money behind on original investment ‘Darling’ and Mr.
Belasco has more than fulfilled his contract with you. We paid out
thousands to secure your new play--have been obliged to forfeit all
and Mr. Belasco has been forced to write one himself to give you
‘Blanche Bates part.’ I have not shown him your telegram and don’t
want to. This is the time he needs good soldiers. Be one like the
rest of us. You will lose nothing in the end. Anyway, Benrimo is
not ’Frisco favorite. Under no circumstances could we allow two
such important parts to be played by one man in ’Frisco. Mr.
Belasco is rehearsing the new men. They leave Wednesday and will
strengthen the cast.

“B. F. ROEDER.”

(_Telegram, David Belasco to Blanche Bates, in St. Louis._)

“New York, November, 1904.

“Thanks! Thanks! You’re a dear brick and some day I will do as much
to relieve you of anxiety. Buy the prettiest and finest rider’s
dress, with hat and cloak to match, and send the bill to me. I am
sending you two good actors, one for the _Prince_, the other for
the _Fisherman_. I am rehearsing them myself. After all, it would
have been dangerous for us to permit any one actor to double the
parts in ’Frisco. You must think so too, so instead of weakening
the cast I am strengthening it.

“But never mind that, you have helped me out of a dilemma and
you’re a bully girl. As soon as the play is on I shall join the
company and spend some days with you to talk over your new piece
and the cast. It will be well to begin to get the eight people
under contract. If all goes well,--and it will,--you’ll be in New
York _all next year_! Love to your mother and yourself.

“DAVID BELASCO.”

VARIOUS LETTERS AND INCIDENTS OF 1905.

In June, 1905, Belasco, accompanied by Mr. Roeder, sailed for England, his purpose being to purchase, if possible, or else to arrange to build, a theatre for his own use in London,--as Daly had done many years before. This ambitious project, however, proved impracticable of execution and, though he has never finally abandoned it, he found himself forced by circumstances to set it aside and he soon returned to America. While he was in England the subject of his fight against the dominion of the Syndicate was discussed in various newspapers: in one of them I find the following letter:

(_David Belasco to “The London Referee.”_)

“Hotel Russell, Russell Square, “London, W. C., June 17, 1905.

“To the Editor of ‘The Referee’:

“Sir:

“A sympathetic article in an evening paper, speaking of the methods
of the American Theatre Trust, and their efforts to crush me, also
stated: ‘Let there be no misunderstanding. Mr. [Charles] Frohman
may be entirely exempted from inclusion in this indictment. His
operations in London are in direct competition with those of the
Trust.’

“In order to prevent any ‘misunderstanding’ I would like to ask:
‘_Why_ should Mr. Frohman be exempted from this indictment?’ In my
suit brought against Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger in New York, in April
last, among other things for the purpose of exposing the methods of
the Theatrical Trust, there was produced in court the original
Syndicate agreement, made in August, 1896, and renewed in August,
1901. This agreement was signed by Charles Frohman, Klaw &
Erlanger, Al. Hayman and Nixon & Zimmermann, and according to the
evidence is still in operation. Further comment is, I think,
unnecessary.

“I am, “Faithfully yours, “DAVID BELASCO.”

Soon after his return to New York Belasco received a message from the great singer Mme. Ernestine Schumann-Heink, who had been much impressed by his presentment of Warfield in “The Music Master,” who desired to adventure on the dramatic stage, and who proposed that Belasco should undertake her management and write a play for her use. This he gladly agreed to do, and the play, which was to have been a sort of sister piece to “The Music Master” and was to have been called “The Opera Singer,” was planned and in part written; but the demands on Belasco’s energies and time were more than any one person could meet and he was regretfully forced to relinquish that project. “It hurt me to let go,” he said: “I had a good story. Mme. Schumann-Heink had great natural talent for acting, and I believe that if I could have carried it through, working in a tremendous scene for her, as a singer on the opera stage, we should have set the country wild. But--there is a limit, and I was pretty near to mine, so _that_ little scheme went up in smoke!”

The following letters all are characteristic of Belasco in varying moods:

(_David Belasco to Blanche Bates._)

“Belasco Theatre, New York, “April 3, 1905.

“My dear Blanche Bates:--

“I have received a note from Mr. William Courtleigh of the Actors’
Society in which he asks if it is possible for you to appear with
Mr. Wm. Gillette at their benefit. I have promptly said ‘No.’ In
the first place, you are not going to support Mr. Gillette. You
would do all the hard work--yelling, shouting and running about
like a maniac,--while he sat calmly smoking his cigar, with a
calcium light upon him. Besides, this would be no novelty, as
Gillette did the same thing at the Holland Benefit and I saw the
poor little -------- girl disgrace herself. There is nothing at all
in these ‘benefits,’ and I hope you are pleased that I got you out
of this one.

“With all good wishes, “Faithfully yours, “DAVID BELASCO.”

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

“Belasco Theatre, New York, “April 26, 1905.

“My dear John:--

“I have just received the beautiful Tennysonian verses. I shall
_dramatize_ them, of course, and you were bully to send them to me.

“But really, Jonathan, haven’t we given that gang of grafters a
shake-up? It cost me a lot of money,--but (thank Heaven!) I had it
to spend, and could unmask them. If I have done a wee bit of good
in helping to clear away the rubbish, I am more than rewarded.

“Good luck to you, and my best affection!

“Faithfully, “DAVID BELASCO.”

(_David Belasco to Mrs. F. M. Bates._)

“Belasco Theatre, New York, “July 13, 1905.

“My dear, dear Mrs. Bates:--

“I am so sorry I did not see you the other morning when you called
at the theatre, but I have been nearly crazy with neuralgia for the
past week.

“I am a little bit behind on Blanche’s play, and am hurrying off to
Shelter Island to take off my coat and go to work on it. Tell our
Blanche it is a _bully play_, and that the character of ‘_the
girl_’ is sky-high--fits her from her head to her feet! I expect to
have it in shape shortly now, and in her hands to study. I am
getting together a _bully_ cast for it. I really think the new play
_is my very best_, and I know she will be happy. Give her my love.

“Faithfully, “DAVID BELASCO.”

(_David Belasco to Blanche Bates, in San Francisco._)

“Belasco Theatre, New York, “July 20, 1905.

“My dear Blanche B.:--

“Your letter received.

“I got a little behind on the play; you know I had to run off to
London to do big things for the future, and when I got back I went
under with my old attacks of neuralgia. You know how I suffer with
them, and really, this time the pain was excruciating. I’m glad to
say that I am all right again and I am working night and day,
hoping that it is the best play I ever wrote. Your part fits you
from your dear little feet up to your pretty head. It’s a _bully
part_, and I know you will like it. If you don’t,--well, you need
never kiss me again! I call the play ‘The Girl of the Golden

Photograph by William Crooke, Edinburgh. Author’s Collection.

HENRY IRVING IN THE LAST YEAR OF HIS LIFE--1904-’05]

West.’ The characters call you ‘_The Girl_.’ The models of the play
are fine--the last scene of all, ‘In the Wilderness,’ is a gem.
There are some beautiful speeches in the play--very ‘Batesesque’;
the lines just _crackle_ and all the situations are human.

“Yes, send along the photo, and I will have a poster made of you.

“_Entre nous_, we open in Pittsburgh, before coming into New York,
playing there for two weeks at the new Belasco Theatre, as the
stockholders have named it. It will be a great night.

“Just keep well, enjoy your summer, and the moment I have finished
the play,--which will be in about three weeks,--I will rush it into
your hands.

“With love, hugs, kisses and things,

“Faithfully, “DAVID BELASCO.”

(_David Belasco to Frederick F. Schrader, in Washington, D. C._)

“Belasco Theatre, New York, “July 22, 1905.

“My dear Mr. Schrader:--

“Many thanks for your letter and for your kindly interest. I am so
glad that the press out West has taken up the question of the
Theatrical Trust so splendidly. It helps us in the big fight. There
is a hard year before us, and if we win I think we shall have
succeeded in breaking the tyrannous ring. The London press was
bully. I was interviewed extensively and succeeded in getting many
leading papers interested. They have taken up the Trust question
seriously over there. I hope you read ‘The Referee.’ They began a
series of Trust articles in the number before the last. The
article was written in a very forcible style.

“Regarding the theatre in Washington, what you write is very
interesting and I shall be most happy to hear more about it.

“Mr. [Fuller] Mellish called to see me, and there is an
understanding that at the first opportunity I shall gather him in.
Then,--he may remain with me for life, if he wants to.

“With kindest regards to yourself and your wife, I am,

“Faithfully, “DAVID BELASCO.”

TRIBUTE TO IRVING.

While Belasco was in Washington, with his new play “The Girl of the Golden West,” there befell one of the saddest bereavements and one of the greatest losses the Stage has ever known,--the sudden, pathetic death of that great actor and manager and even greater man Henry Irving, which occurred at Bradford, England, October 13, 1905, immediately after the close of his performance in “Becket.” Belasco, always one of his disciples and most ardent admirers, when informed of his death, paid him this tribute:

“There are no more such masters! The English-speaking, the modern,
Stage has lost its greatest inspiration! The name of Henry Irving
stood for all that was artistic in the highest sense. He was the
loyalest servant of the public; the friend, the champion of the
Stage. He belonged to us almost as much as to England. And what is
saddest of all, he leaves no one behind him to take his place. He
was a great, a marvellous, actor, a dramatic genius; he was the
greatest stage director of modern times; he was the prince of
managers; and, what was best of all, he was the best and kindest of
men and the truest of friends. God rest his great soul! He has died
as he would have wished, but we shall not look upon his like
again.”

BLANCHE BATES AND “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST.”

Belasco’s stirring play of “The Girl of the Golden West” was first produced at the new Belasco Theatre, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on October 3, 1905. It is a fabric of situations contrived for the advantageous display of that old, familiar, everlasting, always effective theatrical personage, the Rough Diamond. The Girl was beautiful, intrepid, passionate, vivacious; the soul of innocence; the incarnation of virtue; the blooming rose of vigorous health; and she could swear fluently, play cards, and shoot to kill. She kept a drinking shop, she was adored by all “the boys”; and the fame of her probity and her many fascinations filled the countryside of California, in the halycon days of ’49. That fortunate State, according to the testimony of novelists and bards, was densely populated at that time by girls of this enchanting order; but this particular _Girl_ seems to have transcended all rivals. She was beloved by a picturesque and expeditious outlaw, _Dick Johnson_, known as _Ramirez_, who had gained brilliant renown by means of highway robbery, and likewise she was beloved by the local _Sheriff_, _Jack Rance_, a grim, obnoxious officer, self-dedicated to the wicked business of causing that outlaw’s arrest and death. Both those lovers were ardent, and, between those two fires, her situation was difficult; but she always rose to the occasion, and when her outlaw was entrapped by his pursuer the ingenuity of her love and the dexterity of her stratagem delivered him from bondage, and, upon his promise of reformation and integrity, launched him upon a new and better career. The most conspicuous display of her passionate devotion and adroit skill occurred on a night when he was captured in her dwelling. The circumstances were essentially dramatic,--because the _Girl_ and her favored swain were storm-bound in a mountain cabin, whither the _Sheriff_ had tracked his prey; and the robber had been shot and wounded, so that there seemed to be no method of escape for him, till the _Girl_ proposed a game of poker with his foe, staking herself against the liberty of her sweetheart, and won it by successful emulation of the _Heathen Chinee_,--substituting “an ace full” for an empty hand, at the decisive moment.

Photograph by Otto Sarony. Collection of Jefferson Winter.

BLANCHE BATES AS _THE GIRL_, IN “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST”]

There came a time, however, when even Love could do no more; but at that crisis Fate interposed, in the shape of Public Opinion,--that is to say, the friendship of “the boys,”--and the _Girl_ and her lover were united.

The condition of California in 1849 was, to say the least of it, turbulent. Some parts of that State are in a turbulent condition now. Groups of “the boys” can still be discovered. They are not paragons, though, and they never were. The existence of good impulses in uncouth persons does not make them less uncouth. Fine qualities can, and do, exist in beings who are unfamiliar with soap and the toothbrush; but it would seem that the study of human nature can be pursued, more agreeably than elsewhere, among saponaceous branches of the race. It is more pleasant to read about “the boys” than it is to see them. But, broadly speaking, in Belasco’s drama the _Girl_ is the play, and with Miss Bates as the _Girl_ there was little more to be desired. Shorn of all extraneous fringes--variously impious, improper, vulgar, and offensive interjections of profanity and violent expletive--the play is the image of a lovely, impetuous woman’s devotion to her lover,--a devotion that is shown in a series of actions by her to save him from danger and ruin and to make him happy. Feminine heroism is the theme, and the _Girl_ selected to exemplify it is meant to be “a child of nature,” simple, direct, and true--and Belasco was entirely accurate when he wrote that the part fitted the actress for whom he made it from her head to her feet. Given the specified ideal to interpret, Miss Bates placed her reliance on Acting, and there were moments in her performance,--as, for example, in the First Act, as the _Girl_ speaks of the protective instinct in the heart of woman,--when the soul that showed itself in her face was beatific. She gave, throughout, a personation of extraordinary variety and strength. In the situations devised for the heroine,--situations, which, while not radically new, are ingeniously contrived and are fraught with the dominant spell of suspense,--the actress had to express the growth of love; the blissful sense of being loved; the bitter pangs of jealousy; the passionate resentment of a heart that thinks itself betrayed and wronged by the object of its love; the conflict of anger with affection; the apprehension of deadly peril, and the nobility of self-conquest. The exaction of the part is tremendous, equally upon physical resource and nervous vitality, but, at every point, it was met and satisfied. The play exemplifies its author’s remarkable faculty of continuation in the making of characteristic dialogue, together with ample felicity of invention, and it is overlaid with profusion of details. The midnight tryst of the _Girl_ and the _Road Agent_ is not altogether a credible device, but, once assumed and arranged, that situation,--comprehending the outlaw’s detection, as such, by the _Girl_, the awakening of furious jealousy, her turning him out into the storm, her subsequent harboring of him, and the game of cards with the outlaw’s life and liberty staked against the _Girl’s_ whole future,--is handled with consummate skill and moulded to splendid results, and there the acting of Miss Bates rose to a magnificent climax of emotion, fully expressed and yet artistically controlled and directed,--a triumph of intellectual purpose.

This was the original cast of “The Girl of the Golden West”:

_The Girl_ Blanche Bates. _Wowkle_, an Indian squaw Harriet Sterling. _Dick Johnson_ Robert Hilliard. _Jack Rance_ Frank Keenan. _Sonora Slim_ John W. Cope. _Trinidad Joe_ James Kirkwood. _Nick_ Thomas J. McGrane. _The Sidney Duck_ Horace James. _Jim Larkens_ Fred. Maxwell. _“Happy” Haliday_ Richard Hoyer. _“Handsome” Charlie_ Clifford Hipple. _Deputy Sheriff_ T. Hayes Hunter. _Billy Jackrabbit_, an Indian J. H. Benrimo. _Ashby_ J. Al. Sawtelle. _José Castro_ Roberto Deshon. _Rider of the Pony Express_ Lowell Sherman. _Jake Wallace_, a travelling camp minstrel Ed. A. Tester. _Bucking Billy_ A. M. Beattie. _The Lookout_ Fred. Sidney. _A Faro Dealer_ William Wild. _The Ridge Boy_ Ira M. Flick. _Joe_ H. L. Wilson. _Concertina Player_ Ignazio Biondi.

_Citizens of the Camp and Boys of the Ridge._

A THRILLING STORY--AND A TRUE ONE.

One of the most tense and effective passages in contemporary drama is that contrived by Belasco, in this play, when the _Sheriff_ detects the concealment of the _Road Agent_, _Johnson_, in the _Girl’s_ home. Through the swirling snow he has caught a glimpse of a man’s figure near to the cabin of the _Girl_, has shot at it, and has, in fact, hit and grievously wounded _Johnson_, who has then been given refuge in the cabin and concealed by the _Girl_ in a low loft. _Rance_, having come to the cabin and been assured that nobody is concealed there, is about to leave. He goes toward the door, he is about to open it and step out, but turns to speak to the _Girl_, holding a white handkerchief with which he has wiped the snow from his face; as he does so, a drop of blood falls from the helpless wounded man above him upon the handkerchief, then another,--and _Rance_, watching the little crimson stain grow, instantly comprehends. Belasco, referring to this device, which, obviously, is as simple and as possible as it is effective but which was somewhat censured by captious fault-finders, writes this interesting account of its origin:

“It was from my father that I first got the idea which afterwards
so well served me in ‘The Girl of the Golden West,’--the incident
of the Sheriff and the blood dripping on his handkerchief. The
experience occurred during the Cariboo mine period. My father and
his friend, Shannon, with several others, had a hut together. There
had been a heavy snow, so for awhile they had to give up all idea
of prospecting. Food was growing very scarce, until finally the
twenty-four huts that constituted the expedition could boast of but
three or four loaves of bread, one bottle of whisky, a scant supply
of bear meat, and some straggling fish. The miners were apt to be
careless, and the food supply became so low that it was necessary
to form a committee to guard the precious stores. A Sheriff and a
commission of deputies made a law that anyone taking more than was
handed to him should be shot without trial. Thus things went on for
a few weeks. A poor fellow from Philadelphia who was in camp had
had the blues for months before this, and had made every effort to
start for home. In the midst of the famine he was taken with the
hunger fever, and when the boys told him that he was very low he
cried out that he did not want to die. So one night he sneaked over
to the box, and stole a bit of bread and beef and some gold dust.
Then he fled from camp. The next day he was missed, and the loss in
the chest discovered. The Sheriff immediately went after him.
Instinctively the poor fellow must have felt that he was being
followed, for he doubled on his own tracks, and came back to the
hut. My father was playing poker at the time, and presently heard a
shot outside. The missing man staggered into the room and fell at
the feet of the players. ‘Humphrey,’ he gasped, ‘for the sake of my
wife, don’t let them do me up. Save me!’ My father told him to get
out or be plugged, and he pulled his gun from his belt. But at the
same time my father did not say anything when the fellow crawled
upstairs into the loft. Hot upon this came the Sheriff, asking all
sorts of questions, but never a guiding answer did he receive from
the players. Then he joined the game, just as he did in ‘The Girl
of the Golden West,’ my father living an eternity while the man was
above them. They let the Sheriff win so as to make him feel good,
and the game finally broke up. As he held his hand out to my father
for a good-night shake a drop of blood fell upon his arm. A
blanched face looked down through the rafters, a hand clutched
nervously at a shirt, now deep-stained in red. The Sheriff gazed at
the telltale spot on his arm, and smiled cynically as one can
afford to do who is master of such a situation.

“‘Did you fellows know he was up there?’ he asked, taking his gun
from his pocket.

“There was nothing to be said; the facts were against it. The
victim was caught. There was no staying the hand of the law; one
could see this very well as the Sheriff gripped his gun and drew
himself up to his full height. Standing there, his gaunt shadow
thrown against the wall, his white face etched deep with marks of
hardship and of toil, he poked the muzzle of his gun between the
rafters and fired. He had done his job, and so he left without
another word.

“Now, the morning after ‘The Girl of the Golden West’ opened, one
or two critics declared that I did not know the times; they said
that my gambler, so distinctively played by Frank Keenan, was a
caricature, that he was taken from prints rather than from life.
Why, I know the period of ’Forty-nine as I know my alphabet, and
there are things in my ‘The Girl of the Golden West’ truer than
many of the incidents in Bret Harte!”

A MASTERPIECE OF STAGECRAFT: THE STORM IN “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST.”

Considered technically, Belasco’s production of “The Girl of the Golden West” was a genuine masterpiece of stagecraft, and it is specially memorable for the perfect example it exhibited of the right use of “realism” in the Theatre,--the use, in this instance, of an artfully created and perfect semblance of Nature in one of her wildest, most terrible moods as a background,--always felt, yet never obtruded,--for dramatic action the effect of which it steadily augmented and enforced. Nothing of the kind which I have ever seen in the Theatre has fully equalled in verisimilitude the blizzard on Cloudy Mountain as depicted by Belasco in the Second Act of this fine melodrama--such a bitter and cruel storm of wind-driven snow and ice as he had often suffered under in the strolling days of his nomadic youth. When the scene, the interior of the _Girl’s_ log-cabin, was disclosed the spectators perceived, dimly, through windows at the back, a far vista of rugged, snow-clad mountains which gradually faded from vision as the fall of snow increased and the casements became obscured by sleet. Then, throughout the progress of the action, intensifying the sense of desolation, dread, and terror, the audience heard the wild moaning and shrill whistle of the gale, and at moments, as the tempest rose to a climax of fury, could see the fine-powdered snow driven in tiny sprays and eddies through every crevice of the walls and the very fabric of the cabin quiver and rock beneath the impact of terrific blasts of wind,--long-shrieking down the mountain sides before they struck,--while in every fitful pause was audible the sharp click-click-click of freezing snow driving on wall and window.

The means by which this effect of storm was produced could easily be specified and described; in themselves they are as simple as those employed by Belasco to make the almost equally impressive tempest in “Under Two Flags”: but it is a capital mistake to take the public behind the scenes of the Theatre and thus uncover the very heart of the players’ mystery and destroy illusion. In this instance it is enough to say, as revealing Belasco’s liberality, thoroughness, and care in placing his plays before the public, that operation of the necessary mechanical contrivances required a force of thirty-two trained artisans,--a sort of mechanical orchestra, directed by a centrally placed conductor who was visible from the special station of every worker. And it will, perhaps, be usefully suggestive to misguided exponents of literal “spontaneity” in Acting to mention that the perfectly harmonious _effect_ of this remarkable imitation of a storm necessitated that at every performance exactly the same thing should be done on the stage at, to the second, exactly the prearranged instant.

A pleasing device utilized by Belasco in the investiture of this melodrama was a variant of the long familiar panorama which, moving from bottom to top of the stage, instead of across it from one side to the other, showed, first, a beautiful and romantic view of Cloudy Mountain and of the _Girl’s_ cabin, perched, like an eyrie, high upon a canyon’s side; next, a winding mountain path leading down to a settlement and ending outside her saloon, the Polka: then, in a fleeting instant of darkness, the scene was changed to the interior of that saloon, where the action of the play begins. In this production, also, Belasco banished the usual orchestra and substituted for it a band of homely instruments,--the concertina, the banjo, and “the bones” of the old-time minstrels,--which discoursed such old, once familiar but now long-forgotten, airs as “Coal Oil Tommy,” “Campdown Races,” “Rosalie, the Prairie Flower,” “Pop Goes the Weasel,” and “Old Dog Tray.”

THE PARTING OF BLANCHE BATES AND BELASCO.--“THE FIGHTING HOPE” AND “NOBODY’S WIDOW.”

“The Girl of the Golden West” proved to be as successful as its author had expected: also, greatly to the disadvantage of the public, it proved to be the last important production in which, down to the present day (1917), Blanche Bates has appeared,--although she continued to act under the management of Belasco for about seven years. Three of those years were devoted to “The Girl,” which was presented throughout the country. Then, September 7, 1908, at the Belasco Theatre, Washington, Miss Bates was brought out in a new play by Mr. William J. Hurlbut, entitled “The Fighting Hope,” which was acted in New York, September 22, at the Stuyvesant Theatre. It held the stage there until January 16, 1909; was transferred to the Belasco Theatre, January 18, and remained visible there until April 10. This was the cast:

_Burton Temple_ Charles Richman. _Marshfield Craven_ John W. Cope. _Robert Granger_ Howell Hansel. _Anna_ Blanche Bates. _Mrs. Mason_ Loretta Wells.

“The Fighting Hope” served as a professional vehicle for Miss Bates during two seasons. On October 24, 1910, at the Euclid Avenue Opera House, Cleveland, Ohio, Belasco presented her in “Nobody’s Widow,” by Mr. Avery Hopwood: that play was first acted in New York, November 14, that year, at the Hudson Theatre, with the following cast:

_Roxana Clayton_ Blanche Bates. _Betty Jackson_ Adelaide Prince. _Countess Manuela Valencia_ Edith Campbell. _Fanny Owens_ Dorothy Shoemaker. _Duke of Moreland_ Bruce McRae. _Ned Stephens_ Rex McDougall. _Baron Reuter_ Henry Schumann-Heink. _Peter_ Westhrop Saunders.

Both those plays, though they enjoyed profitable careers, were, in fact, stop-gaps: they had never been produced but that “the strong necessity of the times enforced”: “Blanche wanted to appear in ‘drawing-room’ drama,” Belasco has said to me; “I was hard pressed and I took what I could get.” Both those plays owed their profitable careers entirely to Belasco,--to his unremitting and unacknowledged diligence in the labor of revising them and making them feasible for stage use and to the perfection of detail with which he invested their production and caused them to be acted. A whimsical remark which he once made to me, in conversation about another play, applies with force to both these ventures: “I have,” he said, “first and last, paid many authors handsome royalties for the privilege of working like a slave on their plays, without credit and generally without thanks, and making them into popular successes. Each time I have solemnly sworn I’ll never do it again--yet, somehow, I do! But I live in hope that some day somebody will bring me a _finished play_ that only needs production.”

“The Fighting Hope,” even as rectified and notwithstanding its measure of popular success, was but a flimsy fabric,--crude in construction and improbable in plot, though at times theatrically effective. In it is displayed an experience of a loyal wife, _Anna Granger_, who clings to “the fighting hope” of vindicating her husband and rescuing him from the consequences of crime. That husband, a peculiarly contemptible scoundrel, has been detected in a forgery; has been tried, convicted, and imprisoned. His wife, believing him to be innocent and the victim of _Burton Temple_, president of a fiduciary institution, obtains employment in the service of that person and becomes his confidential secretary. In that capacity, after discovering and shamefully destroying a letter which establishes the guilt of her husband, she discovers, also, that she is beloved by _Temple_ and that a reciprocal sentiment is developing in her own bosom. And then, having confessed her identity, her wrong conduct, and her regard, she is relieved from a distressing dilemma by the convenient taking off of her husband,--who, having escaped from the State Prison at Sing Sing, is overtaken, shot, and killed by officers of the law who pursue him. In the hands of any other manager than Belasco, instead of enduring for two years, this piece--if it had ever been produced at all--would have been relegated to the regions of tall timber and high grass within a fortnight.

“Nobody’s Widow” is an ephemeral farce, the central idea of which is denial of an established relationship in circumstances which might cause absurd perplexities and ridiculous consequences,--such, in general character, as ensue when _Charles Courtly_, in “London Assurance,” on being introduced to his father, _Sir Harcourt_, blandly greets him as a new acquaintance. The chief female character, _Roxana_, acted by Miss Bates, has, in Europe, met and married a “_Mr. Clayton_,” who, actually, is an English nobleman, the _Duke of Moreland_; but having, on their wedding-day, found him in the embrace of a former mistress, _Roxana_ has repudiated and left him,--privately instituting proceedings for divorce, and presently apprising her friends in America that her husband, of whom they have heard, but only by his assumed name of _Clayton_, is dead, and that she, accordingly, is a widow. Later she visits some of those friends at Palm Beach, Florida, and there she is, by chance, confronted by her husband, then a visitor to the same hostess, but bearing his right name. _Roxana’s_ husband endeavors to reinstate himself in her affections, but, persistently and with alternate pleasantry and sarcasm, he is treated by her as an accidental acquaintance. _Roxana_ assures him that, as “_Mr. Clayton_” he is “dead”; that she has never seen him before; that to her he is, as the _Duke of Moreland_, nobody; that she is nobody’s widow. That attitude she maintains until apprised of her divorce, when she becomes conscious of a sudden access of tenderness for him;

Photograph by Mishkin Studio. Belasco’s Collection.

TO DAVID BELASCO

A souvenir of the production of the opera, “The Girl of the Golden West,” by Giacomo Puccini

G. Gatti-Casazza David Belasco A. Toscanini Giacomo Puccini ]

and, eventually,--though not until after various trips and stumbles on the track of reconciliation,--she first allows herself to be again married to him, and then allows herself to be convinced of his honest intentions and the sincerity of his love. A farce is well enough in its way: but to record industry of such a manager as Belasco and such an actress as Blanche Bates in such stuff as “Nobody’s Widow” is only to record wasted opportunity and disappointed expectation. In conversation with me Belasco has once or twice intimated some thought of proposing the resumption of Miss Bates’ management: it might be greatly to the public gain if that actress should return to his direction; but, while I earnestly hope it may come about, I do not believe it ever will:

“The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing.”

A GREAT NIGHT.--BELASCO AT THE METROPOLITAN.--A GENEROUS ACKNOWLEDGMENT.

During the season of 1906-’07 Belasco’s friend the Italian musical composer Puccini, who desired to write an opera on a characteristically American subject, made a visit to our country for the purpose of selecting one. While in New York, in January, 1907, he attended performances by Miss Frances Starr in “The Rose of the Rancho” and by Miss Bates in “The Girl,”--at the Academy of Music. After considerable cogitation his choice fell upon the latter, and while travelling to his home in Italy he wrote the following letter to Belasco:

(_Giacomo Puccini to David Belasco._)

Hôtel de Londres, Paris [France], March 7, 1907.

“Dear Mr. Belasco:--

“I was exceedingly sorry to have left New York without seeing you
once more. I have been thinking so much of your play, ‘The Girl of
the Golden West,’ and I cannot help thinking that with certain
modifications it might easily be adapted for the operatic stage.
Would you be good enough to send me a copy of the play, to Torre
del Lago, Pisa, Italia? I could then have it translated, study it
more carefully, and write to you my further impressions.

“I cannot express to you all the admiration I feel for your great
talent, and how much impressed I was at the drama I saw at your
theatre.

“With kindest regards, and hoping to hear from you soon,

“Yours sincerely, “GIACOMO PUCCINI.”

Puccini’s wish was immediately complied with, and upon the basis of Belasco’s melodrama he wrote his opera of “La Fanciulla del West,”--which was sung, in Italian, “for the first time on any stage,” December 10, 1910, at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York: the libretto was “arranged” by

IN REMEMBRANCE

PUCCINI’S OPERA “THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST”

Giacomo Puccini Arturo Toscanini (P. by Dupont) (P. by Dupont)

Belasco (P. by Abbe)

G. Gatti-Casazza Otto H. Kahn (P. by Dupont) (P. by Pach)

Emmy Destinn (P. by White)

Pasquale Amato Enrico Caruso (P. by White) (P. by White) ]

Signori G. Zangarini and C. Civinni: it is, substantially, a translation, until the last act, when a scene is introduced showing the imminent lynching of _Johnson_ by “the boys” in a convenient grove of redwood trees and his rescue by the _Girl_. This scene, as I understand, was originally planned by Belasco for use in his play but was by him discarded. “La Fanciulla del West” was sung for the first time by an extraordinary cast, which should be recorded. This is it:

_Minnie_ Emmy Destinn. _Dick Johnson_, (_Ramirez_, the road-agent) Enrico Caruso. _Jack Rance_ Pasquale Amato. _Nick_, Bartender at the “Polka” Albert Reiss. _Ashby_, Wells-Fargo Agent Adamo Didur. _Sonora_ } { Dinh Gilly. _Trin_ } { Angelo Bada. _Sid_ } { Giulio Rossi. _Bello_ } Miners { Vincenzo Reschiglian. _Harry_ } { Pietro Audisio. _Joe_ } { Glenn Hall. _Happy_ } { Antonio Pini-Corsi. _Larkens_ } { Bernard Bégué. _Billy_, an Indian Georges Bourgeois. _Wowkle_, his Squaw Marie Mattfeld. _Jake Wallace_, a Minstrel Andrea de Segurola. _José Castro_ Edoardo Missiano. _The Pony Express Rider_ Lamberto Belleri.

_Men of the Camp and Boys of the Ridge._

CONDUCTOR ARTURO TOSCANINI.

Belasco felt profound interest in the production of his friend’s opera and directed many of the rehearsals, intent, as he has declared, “to make the artists act as well as sing.” That, doubtless, was a laudable ambition,--but, practically, it is, in the very nature of things, impossible of fulfilment, whether by Belasco or another. Opera singers may be, indeed, frequently are, dramatic in temperament: they are not and can not simultaneously be excellent as actors and as singers. Sometimes a comparatively poor singer becomes, in opera, a tolerably good actor,--but that is the limit of achievement in this direction. True _impersonation_, as made known on the dramatic stage,--in, for example, Forrest’s _Othello_, Davenport’s _Macbeth_, Jefferson’s _Rip Van Winkle_, Barrett’s _Cassius_, Irving’s _Mephistopheles_,--never has been and never can be displayed on the operatic stage.

Talking with me about the first performance of this opera, Belasco said: “It was a great night for me, and I took unbounded pleasure in it and felt much honored when I found myself taking curtain calls with the author, Toscanini, Gatti-Casazza, Caruso, Miss Destinn, and the rest. Puccini, as always, was simple and frankly demonstrative in his delight. The singers were all wild with enthusiasm--I was never so much be-kissed in my life!--but I think I was, perhaps, most interested in that wonderful man Arturo Toscanini. He seemed to me one of those self-contained fellows--calm on the surface but burning white-hot inside. To me it was thrilling to watch him conduct, and he did so at that first performance without a score, as though the work were a classic long familiar to him and held in memory.”