Chapter IX: Act V: (A lapse of years.) During the Revolution (6)

“But I think that you must know what I wish to express, that you
must understand without any words what it means to me to have you
here to-night, and to know that all the lies and all the perjuries
that have been printed and spoken against us cannot shake your
approval and support. We need it! Remember, we are only a handful,
fighting against a mighty Trust: but, ladies and gentlemen, this
little theatre flies the flag of independence, and as long as we
have your approval and support and sympathy nobody can dictate to
us and nobody can ‘put us out of business.’ And I am sure that we
shall have you with us just as long as we deserve it, and we shall
strive to deserve it and to serve you and the beautiful Art we all
love just as long as we live. I thank you, again and again, for all
of us,--for Miss Phelps and Miss Short, and for Mr. Warfield and
for my company and all my associates as well as for myself,--and
again and again I bid you heartily welcome to this little new
theatre.”

This is the original cast of “A Grand Army Man”:

_Wes’ Bigelow_ } { David Warfield. _Judge Andrews_ } { Howard Hall. _Captain Bestor_ } { Reuben Fax. _Jim Bishop_ } { George Woodward. _Cory Kilbert_ } Of the { James Lackaye. _Let’ Pettingill_ } G. A. R. { Stephen Maley. _Comrade Potter_ } { Tony Bevan. _Comrade Tucker_ } { Thomas Gilbert. _Comrade Tate_ } { Henry F. Stone. _Robert_, _Wes’ Bigelow’s_ adopted son William Elliot. _Rogers Wellman_ Taylor Holmes. _Hickman_ John V. Daly. _The Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock_ John Morris.[5] _Hallie_ Antoinette Perry. _Letitia_ Marie Bates. _Mrs. Bestor_ Amy Stone. _Alida Bestor_ Veda McEvers. _Mrs. Pettingill_ Jane Cowl. _Mrs. Kilbert_ Louise Coleman.

A DEFEATED PLAN: “THE PASSING OF THE THIRD FLOOR BACK.”

Belasco had planned to open his new theatre with a play by the eccentric Jerome Klapka Jerome, entitled “The Passing of the Third Floor Back.” In his “Story” he gives the following account of his plan and purposes and of the way,--surely most unjust,--in which they were defeated. The actual reason for Mr. Jerome’s “misunderstanding” undoubtedly was that he preferred to have Forbes-Robertson, instead of Warfield, act the principal part in his “idle fancy,” as he designated his monotonous but amazingly popular fabric of insipid colloquy:

“I was about to make a new version of ‘The Lone Pine,’ which I
wrote for Denman Thompson many years ago, when Mr. Jerome K. Jerome
came to see me. He and I had travelled from London on the same
ship, and I found him a most interesting companion. He was the
author of the charming little Christmas story, ‘The Passing of the
Third Floor Back,’ and suggested turning it into a play for
Warfield. I was delighted. The contract was signed and a payment
made in advance. ‘I shall sail for home at once,’ said Mr. Jerome,
‘to go into the country, for I shall need the trees and flowers and
birds about me as I work. I am going to write it with David
Warfield in mind. He shall be the _Stranger_ and I shall dip my pen
into my heart as well as into the ink.’ Mr. Jerome suggested that
the action of the entire play take place in one scene. ‘But I wish
the actors could face the audience as though a wall of the room
were between them and the auditorium,’ he said. ‘You want the
fireplace in front of the footlights,’ I suggested. A sketch of the
scene was made then and there.

“Our contract stated that the play was to be completed in time for
the opening of the present Belasco Theatre, which was being built.
‘I’ll have your play finished,’ said Mr. Jerome; ‘I’ll bring it
over myself.’ With my mind at rest, I turned to other matters. It
was not long before Mr. Jerome wrote for an extension of time. I
readily agreed to this and shortly after Mr. Jerome wrote again to
ask for another postponement. The play depended largely upon the
mood in which it was written and moods are not to be summoned at
will; so once more I agreed to a delay. Mr. Jerome sent me a model
of the scene and costume sketches by Percy Anderson. They bore Mr.
Jerome’s ‘O. K.,’ and I cheerfully paid a fee of $500 for them. I
still have the sketches in my possession. The time for the opening
of the new theatre was drawing near and I engaged the company. Mr.
Warfield was eager to have the script, that he might begin to study
the part. Then came bad news from England. Mr. Jerome could not
finish the play in time. I saw that I could not depend upon it for
the opening of my new theatre and must find something else. I once
heard Mr. Warfield recite James Whitcomb Riley’s ‘The Old Man and
Jim,’ and I knew that a character like the _Old Man’s_ would be
delightful in his hands. I had in my possession a manuscript,
written by Pauline Phelps and Marion Short. It contained the very
idea for the character I wanted, so I made arrangements with the
ladies and rewrote parts of the play. By the time my work was done
and I had engaged a company I received a cable from Mr. Jerome:
‘The manuscript is finished. Am bringing it to you.’ I had been
obliged to disband the company selected for ‘The Passing of the
Third Floor Back,’ and preparations for ‘A Grand Army Man’ were
completed. I doubted if the other play could possibly be made ready
for production in so short a period. When Mr. Jerome arrived, he
read his piece to Mr. Warfield, Mr. Roeder and me, and we found the
idea more and more to our liking. I felt, however, that the play
should be held over until the following season. Before I could
reach a decision Mr. Jerome left unexpectedly for London. It was my
moral, to say nothing of legal, right to postpone the production,
as it was no fault of mine that the script had not been delivered
sooner. I told Miss Marbury, Mr. Jerome’s representative in this
country, to cable to him to that effect. He showed some surprise in
his reply. But in a long communication I explained my dilemma. In
response to this he sent a very satisfactory answer, and I was
about to write another letter to him, enclosing an additional
advance on the contract--so anxious was I to have the piece--when
Miss Marbury abruptly inquired what steps I intended to take in the
matter. She insisted upon another large payment, which displeased
me, since I had so willingly complied with every request Mr. Jerome
had made, and I hastily scribbled an impatient note. To my
astonishment, I received a telegram from her saying: ‘The play is
sold to Forbes-Robertson.’ Three years after, when Mr. Jerome asked
me to read a new piece, we spoke of ‘The Passing of the Third Floor
Back.’ I explained the matter, and he said it was all the result
of a mistake. I was of course very sorry the mistake had occurred.
This mistake was most fortunate for Sir Johnson Forbes-Robertson,
who might have missed the greatest success of his career. The piece
could not add to his fame, but it certainly added to his fortune.”

“THE WARRENS OF VIRGINIA.”

Belasco opened the season of 1907-’08, at the Belasco Theatre, August 31, with a revival of “The Rose of the Rancho,” which he continued to present there until November 9. On November 11 Miss Bates appeared at that theatre, where she acted for three weeks, in “The Girl of the Golden West.” On December 3 he there brought out, for the first time in New York, a play called “The Warrens of Virginia,” written by William C. De Mille, son of his old friend and early collaborator, Henry C. De Mille, and retouched by himself. It had been acted at the Lyric Theatre, Philadelphia, on November 18. In that play the interest is concentrated on the character of a general in the service of the Southern Confederacy, toward the close of the American Civil War, and on the conduct of his daughter, in a well-contrived emergency, involving the conflict,--perennial as a dramatic expedient,--between love and duty. The story is interesting, and it illustrates, in a manner that is both pictorial and pathetic, the contrasts of circumstances and the vicissitudes of domestic experience that, necessarily, were incident to the harrowing condition of fraternal strife then prevalent in this country. The play, however, is not in any sense either political or sectional. It has no didactic drift. It does not discuss the war. It does not advocate either union or disunion. It tells a story, and, necessarily therefore, it portrays characters. The predominant element in it is picture, but it contains much incident, of a kind more notable for utility than novelty, and some of its situations are fraught with the dramatic element of suspense. Its special charm is a sweet and gentle domestic atmosphere.

The action is supposed to pass during the twenty-four hours immediately preceding the surrender of the Confederate army, at Appomattox, April 9, 1865, and to close five years later. Act First occurs in a woodland glade, near to the abode of the _Warrens_ of Virginia. Acts Second and Third proceed in a room in that dwelling. Act Fourth, and last, is placed in a rose garden adjacent to the _Warren_ home. _General Warren_, a Confederate commander, is ill, broken by care and privation, and he has been ordered from the field, for rest. _General Griffin_, a Union commander, has acceded to the request of _General Lee_ that _Warren_ should be passed through the Union lines to his home. _Warren’s_ daughter, _Agatha_, trying to reach the Confederate forces, with such little relief as the _Warren_ family could supply, has been stopped by _Lieutenant Burton_, a Union officer,--known to her before the outbreak of the war,--who loves her, and who is by her beloved, although she has repulsed him. _Lieutenant Burton_, in turning _Agatha_ back to her home, begs the privilege of visiting her, if he can obtain leave of absence, but his request is denied. _General Warren_, however, on the way to his dwelling, meets with _Burton_ and consents to the proposed visit. A supply train is expected by the Confederates, and its arrival is vital to them, while the stoppage of it is equally essential to the forces of the Union. Stratagem is planned. A bogus despatch is prepared, ordering the interception of the train at a certain point, and it is desired that this despatch be captured by the Confederate commander, so that he will be deceived by it and will send the train another way. The Union commander utilizes _Lieutenant Burton’s_ wish to visit his sweetheart, and compels him to carry the despatch,--having previously ascertained that a movement of the Confederates is intended which will insure _Burton’s_ capture at _General Warren’s_ home. Various reasons constrain _Burton_ to carry the despatch,--although his expectation is that he will be shot as a spy. When the scene shifts to the _Warren_ home _Agatha_ and _Burton_ meet and they plight their faith as lovers. _Burton_ is captured by the Confederates, but _Agatha_ has obtained the despatch and has concealed it in her shoe. Her purpose is to shield her lover; but _General Warren_, surmising that she knows where the document is concealed, appeals to her in such a way that she breaks down and surrenders it. The _General_ is deceived. The supply train is despatched in a wrong direction and is captured by the Union forces. The conduct of _Burton_ thereupon is stigmatized as grossly dishonorable; _Agatha_ renounces him; and, making no defence, he is likely to be shot. The surrender of the Confederate army terminates the war, and thus _Burton’s_ life is saved. After the lapse of five years he once more repairs to the _Warren_ home and renews his suit for the hand of _Agatha_. At first his prayer is denied,--notwithstanding the girl still loves him. The talk of the lovers is heard by _General Warren_, who appears all the while to have been asleep, and presently the father recalls the departing lover, and, for his daughter’s sake, consents to a reconciliation and a marriage: and thus a pretty picture of happy love and peace is made to close an ordeal of trouble and grief. It seems a pity that some device could not have been found to make the young soldier carry the despatch without being aware of the treachery that was intended. He is forced to act in a dishonorable manner, and he forfeits all sympathy in the action of the play.

There is no limit to the pathos of conflicting emotions that can be pictured, incident to war, and especially to a civil war. Some of that pathos is indicated at moments in this drama. The little children, concocting a letter to their soldier brother; the agonized lover, who while waiting for the moment in which the trick to which he has lent himself will be accomplished, is fondly treated by the girl whom he loves, and toward whom he feels that he has been deceitful; the worn, ill, suffering Confederate general, gleeful in his supposed triumph, waiting for the safe arrival of the supplies that will relieve his wretched troops, and sitting with his wife by his side and their two young children at their knees; the blind, almost insane fury of that deceived, resentful old man when he learns of the capture of those supplies--those incidents and others like to them are exceedingly effective. There is excess of dialogue and there is too much attention to unimportant detail delaying the action. The incident of the father’s kneeling to his daughter is copied from Wills’s splendid play of “Charles I”--in

Photograph by Otto Sarony. Belasco’s Collection.

CHARLOTTE WALKER AS _AGATHA WARREN_, IN “THE WARRENS OF VIRGINIA”]

which the betrayed _King_, in a similar situation, begs _Lord Murray_ to bring his forces to the rescue of the royal arms. The opening incident--the meeting of the Union and the Confederate soldier--is reminiscent of the opening of Boucicault’s “Belle Lamar.” The acting was, in several instances, superb. Frank Keenan was, in appearance, true to the indicated ideal of _General Warren_ and his performance was instinct with the truth of Nature, shown with the delicate exaggeration of proficient art. Power, dignity, authority, and blended humor and pathos were its attributes, and it was especially admirable for its repose. The finest moment in it was that of the outbreak when _Warren_ is apprised of the loss of the supply train and cannot believe that his son has obeyed orders. Miss Emma Dunn, who acted _Mrs. Warren_, gave a touching and interesting, because carefully considered, well-planned, and smoothly and fully executed, impersonation of an affectionate wife and mother,--the result of close study informed by exact observation and the intelligence and feeling native to the nature of the actress. Miss Charlotte Walker as _Agatha Warren_ was extremely handsome and winning, and, in the lighter moments of the play, acted with charming effect. The stage dresses and pictures were, in every detail, historically correct and characteristic of the period to which the play relates; in fact, the production was a memorable example of taste and excellence in the provision of harmonious and helpful stage environment.--“The Warrens of Virginia” was acted at the Belasco Theatre until May 2, 1908; on May 4 it was transferred to the Stuyvesant Theatre, where it was presented until the 16th, when that house was closed for the season. This was the cast:

_General Warren_ Frank Keenan. _Ruth Warren_ Emma Dunn. _Agatha_ Charlotte Walker. _Arthur_ Cecil de Mille. _Bob_ Richard Story. _Betty_ Mary Pickford. _Miss Molly Hatton_ Blanche Yerka. _Gen. Griffin_ } Of _Gen._ { William McVay. _Gen. Harding_ } { DeWitt Jennings. _Gen. Carr_ } _Grant’s_ Staff { E. Allen Martin. _Lieutenant Burton_ C. D. Waldron. _Blake_ Raymond L. Bond. _Corporal DePeyster_ Stanhope Wheatcroft. _Zack Biggs_ Frederick Watson. _Billy Peavy_ Willard Robertson. _Tom Dabney_ Ralph Kellerd. _Sapho_ Mrs. Chas. G. Craig.

Of the Mary Pickford who appeared in this cast as _Betty Warren_--and who gave an agreeable performance--Belasco affords this reminiscence, which it is specially pleasant to quote here because instances of appreciation and gratitude among actors of the present day are not frequent:

“In ‘The Warrens of Virginia’ two children, a boy and a girl, had
very important parts. I could not find a little girl to suit me,
when one day my stage manager asked me if I would see a child named
Mary Pickford. Little Mary was then a vision of girlish
beauty--with long golden-brown curls. She said she had been hanging
about my stage door for a week, wanted the part and was in fact at
that very moment ready for it. I gave it to her at once, and the
next day she came to rehearsal letter-perfect. In the course of
time she became the ‘Queen of the Movies.’ After a few years I sent
for her to ask her to play in ‘A Good Little Devil.’ She was then
earning $500 a week, but she told me I might name my own price, as
she knew I could not afford to pay that sum. She said she was
willing to lose financially that she might gain artistically. I
regret that she is giving her time to the moving-pictures houses,
for she is a genius in her line.”

“THE EASIEST WAY.”

Mr. Eugene Walter’s play called “The Easiest Way” is one of the most obnoxious specimens of theatrical trash that have been obtruded on the modern Stage. It depicts a segment of experience in the life of a shallow, weak, and vain prostitute, who makes a feeble attempt to reform but who fails to do so. The significant impartment of that play--in so far as it possesses any significant impartment--is an intimation that “the easiest way” in which a woman can obtain and hold a position on the stage and live in luxury off it is by the sale of her chastity; but that “the easiest way” will, at last, prove to be the hardest, ending in misery and a broken heart. The ethical platitude is supposed to constitute a “moral lesson,” and this disgusting play was proclaimed as instructive and admonitory in its purpose. The assumption of a right and duty to “teach good moral lessons” in the Theatre by causing the public mind to dwell with tolerant familiarity on wholly commonplace and sordid proceedings and experiences of blackguards, rakes, pimps, and harlots, as such, is as stupid as it is impudent, but it has been made by some of the most eminent men and women of the Stage. Lester Wallack produced Boucicault’s tainted drama of “Forbidden Fruit,” and trailed the banner of the noble Wallack tradition in the gutter by doing so; Richard Mansfield, to the end of his life, retained in his repertory the feculent play of “A Parisian Romance” (produced by A. M. Palmer); Mme. Modjeska introduced in our Theatre Mr. Sudermann’s radically pernicious “Heimat” (“Magda”); William and Madge Kendal exploited the “Tanqueray” scandal; that great manager and actor John Hare (one of the loveliest artists that ever graced the Stage) sullied his fair fame by presenting, and attempting to defend, “The Gay Lord Quex”; Belasco brought out “The Easiest Way”--and so it goes. Dispute as to the propriety of presenting such plays is unending. It is not, however, essential to continue that dispute (of which I have long been sick almost to death) in this place: my views on the whole subject of the drama of demirepdom have been explicitly stated in the chapter of this work relating to the play of “Zaza.” When “The Easiest Way” was first made known in New York I wrote and published these words of comment:

It is melancholy and deplorable that he should have lent his great reputation to the support of the vicious play which now disgraces his Stuyvesant Theatre.... No lover of Dramatic Art, no admirer of David Belasco, can feel anything but regret that he should give the authority of his great managerial reputation,--the greatest since Augustin Daly’s death,--and the benefit of his genius and his rich professional resources to the exposition of a drama that cannot do good.... We do not want to see in the Theatre the vileness that should be shunned; we want to see the beauty that should be emulated and loved!

These words expressed my conviction then--and they express my conviction now. And I am encouraged to believe that my old friend (whose productions of “Zaza” and “The Easiest Way” I opposed by every means in my power) has come to my way of thinking on this subject because in a recently published newspaper article I find him declaring: “Art is not confined to the gutter and the dregs of life. Rather, real art has more to do with the beautiful. Perverted and degenerate ideas are the easiest to treat of in literature, the drama, and the stage.”

“The Easiest Way” was produced with vigilant attention to detail. Nothing was forgotten: the rooms shown were reproductions of fact,--from the rickety wardrobe, with doors that will not close and disordered sheets of music and other truck piled on top of it, in the boarding-house chamber, to the picturesque, discreetly arranged disorder of the opulent apartments, the signs of a drunken orgy, and the artfully disclosed and disordered bed. All that stage management could do to create and deepen the impression of reality was done, and the result was a deformity magnificently framed to look like nature,--another example of a thing done perfectly that ought not to have been done at all and one from which I gladly turn away. This was the cast of “The Easiest Way”:

_John Madison_ Edward H. Robins. _Willard Brockton_ Joseph Kilgour. _Jim Weston_ William Sampson. _Laura Murdock_ Frances Starr. _Elfie St. Clair_ Laura Nelson Hall. _Annie_ Emma Dunn.

“WESTWARD, HO!”--THE SYNDICATE SURRENDERS.--INCIDENTS OF 1909.

Belasco, accompanied by several friends, left New York on February 7, 1909, for San Francisco, where he arrived on the 12th and where he remained for nearly a month. He had been apprized that the health of his father was failing and that, in the course of nature, his death was likely to occur soon. His expedition was prompted by filial affection and it was undertaken with a heavy heart. His visit, however, greatly cheered and benefited his aged parent, and the sojourn in his native city was made a time of festival and happiness. On February 24 a dinner was given at the Bismarck Café by surviving pupils of the Lincoln Grammar School, of the classes from 1865 to 1871, at which Belasco was the principal guest; and on the 27th a supper was given in his honor at the Bohemian Club. He has written for me this account of his visit:

“...The only really sad time was when at last I had to say
‘Good-bye’ and come away: that was a sorrow. But I would not have
missed the visit back home for all the world! The happiness of
seeing my old father and the pleasure my coming gave him are
priceless memories to me, and I like to think my visit helped him
to hold on: he lived nearly two years longer. I would have gone
back the next year, but I was warned against the agitation our
parting would bring to both of us.... I was so hospitably received
on every hand that I entirely forgot my enterprises in New York and
I felt like a boy again, without a worry. Although it was less than
three years after the earthquake-fire, prosperity was in evidence
everywhere; the spirit of the people was simply wonderful, and it
sent me home encouraged and inspired to attempt greater things. I
am proud that I was born in San Francisco, and I cannot say too
much for the hospitality and overwhelmingly friendly reception
accorded me.... The night at the Lincoln School Dinner was
wonderful. There were about seventy of the ‘boys’ there, and dear
old Professor Bernhard Marks, who had been the principal and who
was nearly eighty, presided and called the roll, just as he used to
do when we were all lads. Sometimes a silence followed a name; many
times there came the answer ‘Dead,’ and now and then somebody
responded ‘Present.’ I cried! Then the principal put us through our
paces again, at the old lessons, and dealt out cuts on the hand
with very little of the old-time vigor. After that there were
speeches, and so many lovely things were said about me that I was
too embarrassed to reply properly: I remember that I began by
saying it was the happiest night of my life--and then stood there
with tears running down my cheeks! But I managed to say a few words
that pleased them, and then there were many calls for me to recite
‘The Madman’ and at last I got up to do it. I started in with
restraint, to

Photograph in Belasco’s Collection.

DAVID BELASCO AND HIS FATHER, HUMPHREY ABRAHAM BELASCO, IN SAN FRANCISCO, FEBRUARY, 1909--THEIR LAST MEETING]

give it properly, as I would now, but the ‘old boys’ wouldn’t have
it. They began to catcall and cry ‘Nix! Nix!’ ‘The old way! the
_old_ way!’ and they made me get up on one of the tables and begin
all over again and give it in the good old way, raving and
shrieking and tearing my hair, as I used to do when a boy, when the
audiences used to say I’d break a blood-vessel if I kept on! So I
went through with it, though it was pretty hard work, and they were
so delighted they made me give ‘The Vagabonds’ for an _encore_, but
I ‘stuck’ dead, halfway through that, and couldn’t go on to save my
soul, so they let me off....

“I didn’t know the names of all those who came, but by and by I
would recognize a glance of an eye or the turn of a head and recall
that I knew that fellow when he was a boy. They were so much
altered--one of the greatest scamps of the school was a staid,
respected banker, and another was a portly physician of the highest
standing, and so on. It was all very interesting to me--and at
times very pathetic and touching....

“My night at the Bohemian rather overwhelmed me--when I looked
about and saw many of the leading men of San Francisco and
remembered the days when I couldn’t even get into that club! They
gave a play in my honor, by Dr. Shiels, and there were many
charming speeches and I made my acknowledgments as well as I could,
and then they gave me a cartoon, painted by Neuhaus. It shows me
kneeling at the shrine of The Owl [the symbol of the Bohemian
Club], presenting my offering, ‘The Rose of the Rancho,’ to their
patron bird of Bohemia.”

I have endeavored to obtain reports of the speeches at these festivals but have been unable to do so. At the Lincoln Grammar School Dinner the speakers were Professor Marks, Charles A. Miller, Joseph Greenberg, James I. Taylor, Charles F. Gall, and J. J. McBride, all of San Francisco, and Arthur L. Levinsky, of Stockton. Among the speakers at the Bohemian Club supper were Dr. J. Wilson Shiels, Joseph D. Redding, Charles J. Fields, Willis Polk, Waldemar Young, and Mackenzie Gordon.--Belasco left San Francisco for New York on March 2 and arrived there on the 7th.

In the spring of 1909, soon after he returned from his visit to San Francisco, the Theatrical Syndicate practically surrendered in its fight to exclude Belasco from the theatres which it dominated. The reason for this surrender was, of course, purely selfish. The Belasco theatrical productions were not only the best that were being made in America but, also, they were among the most profitable. He had long been firmly established in public favor: he was managing two splendid theatres in New York: he controlled, directly or indirectly, others in other cities: each season he had grown more influential: it was a manifest impossibility to crush him: many janitorial managers of theatres in different parts of the country were bitterly dissatisfied because his popular and remunerative productions were not “booked” in their theatres: the obvious course of commercial expediency was to terminate a losing conflict and utilize and prosper by the leading theatrical manager in America: to the Syndicate, as to _Petruchio_ in _Grumio’s_ description of him, “nothing comes amiss so money comes withal,” and the greatest wonder is not that it forgave Belasco the heinous crime of working for his own advantage but that, at heavy financial loss, it so long debarred him from the “first-class territory.” The upshot of the various considerations indicated was an understanding between the parties in opposition (namely, the booking agency of the Messrs. Klaw & Erlanger, representing the Syndicate, on the one side, and Mr. and Mrs. Harrison Grey Fiske and Belasco, on the other), whereby,--as set forth in a statement issued by Fiske,--it was arranged that “Klaw & Erlanger and Fiske and Belasco will hereafter, _whenever mutually agreeable_, play attractions in each other’s theatres.” Since that understanding was reached, April 29, 1909, they have, as far as I know, done so.

I am far from regarding _any_ association between Belasco and the Theatrical Syndicate as being either for his best interest or for that of the American Stage. Belasco, however, thinks differently, and in a recent conversation with me he summed up his feeling about the Syndicate in these words: “In the conferences initiated by our lawyer Mr. Gerber [David Gerber was attorney for Belasco as well as for Klaw & Erlanger] it was found that we could enter upon business relations for the betterment of the American Stage without any sacrifice of principle or integrity, and I think our arrangement has been beneficial for the Stage. I am older than I used to be; I have no ill-feeling; our relations are very friendly, and _I_ am satisfied to ‘let the dead past bury its dead.’” That is very well--but, as it happens, all that was truly urged by Fiske and Belasco (among others) in opposition to the Theatrical Syndicate _before_ the business understanding above recorded remained equally true _after_ it; newspaper files and many legal instruments are accessible and anybody can consult them who wishes to do so; the public record cannot be evaded. I am thoroughly familiar with the annals of the Syndicate and I do not agree with Belasco in his present friendly and favorable attitude. On the contrary, I am satisfied that the influence of the Syndicate upon matters of dramatic art must, in the nature of things, remain vulgar and degrading, and in matters of business oppressive and sordid, to the end of the chapter. Public opinion, however, and that of the newspaper press has long been indifferent on this subject, and I am now convinced that it is only by the passing away of the men who compose the Syndicate (in whom, happily, “nature’s copy’s not eterne”) and the accession to theatrical management of men of higher character and ideals and finer intellect that the American Theatre will be measurably redeemed from its impaired estate.

Belasco’s course, meanwhile, in dealing with the Syndicate has been incorrectly described as “a surrender” on his part and he has been much misrepresented therein. From the first of difference and dispute he maintained his right to _independence_ in the conduct of his managerial business. In various conversations with me, many years before the arrangement with his opponents was reached, he declared, in substance, half-a-score of times or more: “I have no wish to try to interfere with these people [meaning the Syndicate] in _their_ business. What _I_ am fighting for is _my_ right to book _my_ productions with whatever managers want to book them, for _my_ best advantage.”

A newspaper intimation that Belasco, while booking through the Syndicate agency, would “fear to offend the Trust” brought from him (1909) the following specific disclaimer of subserviency:

“Please deny for me, emphatically, the statement that I ‘hesitate
to give offence to the Theatrical Trust.’ My position regarding the
Theatrical Trust is too well known, I hope, for anyone to believe
that!”

Mr. Lee Shubert, who controlled theatres competing with Syndicate houses in which Belasco productions were presented for a long time after the Syndicate agreed to book for him, made the following comment on the understanding:

“So far as myself and my associates are concerned we cannot
disapprove of a development which shows advancement of the policy
of the ‘open door,’ for which we have fought. It is gratifying to
us to note that the tendency toward a general letting down of the
bars, which were up so long and so unjustly against independent
producers, is so emphatically in evidence in the change of attitude
both on the part of Erlanger and Belasco and Fiske. We have
produced and procured our own attractions, and will continue to do
so with such measure of success as may be ours. _I have contended
always that the time would come when the bars must be let down and
successful producers welcomed wherever they were willing to play
their attractions...._ We are independents, and Messrs. Belasco and
Fiske are independents. Whatever steps they may take in an
independent way we cannot with consistency disapprove. It is really
of little moment to the public, which cares little about whose
attractions it may pay to see and in what theatre it may see them
so long as the attractions are worth the money.”

One immediate result of the Fiske-Belasco arrangement with the Syndicate was the settlement out of court of the lawsuits over “The Auctioneer,” implicating Klaw & Erlanger, Belasco, and Joseph Brooks, and the withdrawal of the appeal by Belasco, in that matter, which had been filed April 13, 1906.

A painful incident of this year (1909) was a bitter attack on Belasco made by his former friend and professional associate Mrs. Leslie Carter. That singular woman, having appeared in John Luther Long’s absurd play of “Kassa” and made a failure, was pleased to ascribe that regrettable result not to a bad play and a tiresome performance but to the malign influence of Belasco! A long and silly “statement” was issued in her behalf to the effect that there was a plan on foot to interfere with “her career” in that play, and it was intimated that Belasco was the instigator of this alleged nefarious scheme. Later Mrs. Carter gave out another screed, which was circulated throughout the press of the country, reflecting in the most gross and unwarranted way upon the man who had made her theatrical career possible, and in which she declared: “If I were going to die and could save my life by playing again for David Belasco, I would not do it!” As nothing could ever have induced him to resume the management of Mrs. Carter this declaration was a trifle superfluous. Belasco’s only comment on this matter was explicit: “It is,” he said, “absolutely false that I have sought, or desired, in any way, to injure Mrs. Carter. It is monstrous that such a thing should be said against me, and monstrous that anybody should dare to ask me if it is true.”

During the summer of 1909 Belasco proposed to his old friend Lotta that she return to the stage under his management (she had retired from it about 1890) and make a farewell tour of the country. “I urged her all I could,” Belasco writes, “because I knew I could make her reappearance and tour a sensational success and that the public would be delighted to see the little Lotta of other days. At first I wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer, and for a while Miss Lotta was inclined to accept my proposal. But, finally, she declined, saying: ‘I’ve seen so many people make the same mistake, when they’ve grown old and outlived their public, of coming back to appear in the parts that were written for them in their youth. “Other days, other ways.” It is better to let my old friends remember me as they saw me many years ago. I shall never act again.’” That was a wise decision. No doubt there would have been much friendly interest in a formal farewell by Lotta; but the elfin charm of her youth was gone and the venture would have inspired sadness: “Yesterday’s smile and yesterday’s frown can never come over again!”

THE SEASON OF 1909-’10: “IS MATRIMONY A FAILURE?”--“THE LILY”--AND “JUST A WIFE.”

Belasco produced three new plays in the season of 1909-’10,--“Is Matrimony a Failure?”, “The Lily,” and “Just a Wife.” “Is Matrimony a Failure?” is a clever farce, adapted by Leo Ditrichstein from a German original, “Die Thür ins Freie,” by Oscar Blumenthal and Gustav Kadelberg. It relates to the ancient, evergreen subject of conjugal friction,--which, in this instance, seems intolerable but proves indispensable,--and it implicates ten married couples and one pair of prospective connubialists. The scene is a pleasant country town in New York. A coterie of husbands has grown restive under what is deemed to be an excessive exercise, by their wives, of matrimonial authority. A lawyer named _Paul Barton_ visits the town to settle the estate of an old Justice of the Peace, recently deceased, ascertains that the wedding ceremonies of the various couples implicated were performed by that official’s clerk, in the absence of his employer, and declares them to be illegal. The husbands decline to validate their marriages unless their wives agree to permit them greater freedom than they have enjoyed, and, leaving their homes, establish themselves at a neighboring inn,--where they soon find that, however irksome may have seemed the dominion of their wives, it is immensely preferable to the total lack of their society. More particular rehearsal of the complications, cross-purposes, and conflicts woven about this posture of circumstance would be superfluous: they were not less comic and amusing because the legal quirk upon which the original play was based is inapplicable under the law of the State of New York. The farce was exquisitely set and admirably played,--especially by that excellent light-comedian and lovable man, the late Frank Worthing,--and it enjoyed acceptance bounteous and remunerative. “Is Matrimony a Failure?” was first acted at Atlantic City, New Jersey, August 29, 1909, and, in New York, at the Belasco Theatre, on the 23d of that month,--with the following cast:

THE HUSBANDS.

_Skelton Perry_ Frank Worthing. _Hugh Wheeler_ W. J. Ferguson. _Frank Bolt_ James Bradbury. _Albert Rand_ Edward Langford. _Jasper Stark_ John F. Webber. _David Meek_ F. Newton Lindo. _Dr. Hoyt_ Robert Rogers. _George Wilson_ Marshall Stuart. _Lem Borden_ Gilmore Scott. _Herman Ringler_ Frank Manning.

Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.

NANCE O’NEILL AS _ODETTE DE MAIGNY_ AND JULIA DEAN (THE YOUNGER) AS _CHRISTIANE DE MAIGNY_, IN “THE LILY”]

THE WIVES.

_Fanny Perry_ Jane Cowl. _Kate Wheeler_ Louise Mackintosh. _Madge Bolt_ Anne Sutherland. _Alice Rand_ Louise Woods. _Annie Stark_ Lou Ripley. _Lucy Meek_ Gretta Vandell. _Helen Hoyt_ Blanche Yurka. _Julia Wilson_ Helen Braun. _Natalie Borden_ Julia Reinhardt. _Sadie Ringler_ Josie Morris Sullivan.

_Paul Barton_ William Morris. _Lulu Wheeler_ Jane Grey. _Carrie_ Helen Ferguson.

“Jane Cowl,” said Belasco, “had been with me for several years, understudying many parts in different plays, acting ‘bits,’ and working hard. I felt that she had earned her chance, and I gave it to her in ‘Matrimony.’ Her performance was splendid and she has been successful ever since.”

“The Lily” is a play in four acts, adapted by Belasco from a French original, “Le Lys,” by MM. Pierre Wolff and Gaston Leroux. It was produced for the first time, December 6, 1909, at the Belasco Theatre, Washington, and was first acted in New York, at the Stuyvesant, December 23. The story of this play is one of domestic tyranny, possible in France but impossible in America, and one which, accordingly, inspired only tepid interest in the American public,--although the treatment and presentation of it were in a high degree theatrically effective. This is the substance of that story: The _Comte de Maigny_, a profligate Frenchman who is also a father and a widower, tyrannizes over his children. The eldest of those children, _Odette_, is “the lily,”--a woman of thirty-five who, in girlhood, has been parted by her father from the man she wished to marry and who has become a mere domestic convenience, dwelling in lonely celibacy as her father’s housekeeper and lavishing her affection upon her sister, who is ten years younger. That sister, _Christiane_, is destined by their father for the same barren existence, but she meets a strolling artist, who wins her love and with whom, because he cannot wed her,--being already married to an uncongenial woman who will not divorce him,--she enters into an illicit relation. _De Maigny_ has contrived to arrange a loveless marriage between his son and the young daughter of a man of great wealth,--being intent thus to obtain money for libidinous self-indulgence. The relation of _Christiane_ and her artist becoming known to that person, he breaks off the marriage of his daughter with _Christiane’s_ brother, not explicitly stating his reason but with ambiguous givings out which intimate it. The chief scenes of the play then follow. The infuriated licentiate badgers his unfortunate daughter, who, at first, lies to protect herself, until, at last, he elicits from her a rebellious, exultant declaration of the truth. Then, in the fury of his disappointed cupidity, he is about to beat her, when the long-suppressed, meek-seeming but actually passionate _Odette_, opening her valves under an immense and rising pressure of emotional steam, intervenes, denouncing the conventions of society in general and the iniquities of _de Maigny_ in particular, certifying to the propriety of her sister’s conduct in the wretched circumstances existing, and declaring her purpose to protect that sister in her natural desire for “love and happiness.” _Christiane_ then departs with her lover and the expectation of deferred matrimony, and her disgruntled parent, practically ejected from his home, goes off to Paris, whining that a waiter will probably close his eyes in death,--a pious kindness which the spectator hopes may be performed at an early date.

The play, of course, was devised for the sake of the sudden, blistering outburst by the elderly spinster--which in representation is undeniably effective--and, in the French original, for the sake of emitting some specious special pleading in extenuation and justification of illicit conduct. As to the doctrine which _Odette_ declares in this play and which _Christiane_ and her unhappily married swain exemplify,--the doctrine, namely, that when two persons who love each other are held asunder by cruel chance of social circumstance they are warranted in setting aside convention in order to come together,--its utter fallacy is too obvious for detection. Practical application of it, however, has often provided variously dramatic results: pathetic exposition of some of its possible consequences, to helpless, innocent persons, is made in Collins’ great novel of “No Name.” Belasco, in presenting his modified version of “Le Lys,” sought to evade the ethical issue, but he added one more to his long list of plays perfectly environed and admirably acted. Miss Nance O’Neil, who appeared in it as _Odette_, has been designated as a “tragic actress” (which she is not) and has been extravagantly extolled. She possesses rough natural ability, animal strength, vocal capacity, some sensibility and considerable power of forceful simulation. Most of her performances have been monotonous: in this one, in which, practically, she had only one scene and in which, furthermore, she had the advice and assistance of a consummate stage manager, she was interesting and impressive,--uttering the verbal explosion

Photograph by the Misses Selby. Author’s Collection.

BELASCO, ABOUT 1911]

of voluble vehemence addressed to _de Maigny_ with fine abandon, passionate intensity, and powerful effect.--The cast of “The Lily” is appended:

_Comte de Maigny_ Charles Cartwright. _Vicomte Maximilien de Maigny_ Alfred Hickman. _Huzar_ Bruce McRae. _Georges Arnaud_ Wm. J. Kelly. _Bernard_ Leo Ditrichstein. _Emile Plock_ Dodson Mitchell. _Joseph_ Marshall Stuart. _Jean_ Douglas Patterson. _Michel_ Robert Robson. _Odette_ } _De Maigny’s_ daughters { Nance O’Neil. _Christiane_ } { Julia Dean. _Lucie Plock_ Florence Nash. _Suzanne_ Ethel Grey Terry. _Alice_ Aileen Flaven.

“Just a Wife” was written by Mr. E. Walter and was first acted at the Colonial Theatre, Cleveland, Ohio, January 17, 1910, and at the Belasco Theatre, New York, on the 31st of that month. As a playwright that writer has exhibited a persistent, morbid preoccupation with the subject of illicit sexual relations which suggests the possible utility of vigorous open-air exercise, the cold sitz-bath and potassium bromide. In this play a libertine named _John Emerson_, who has consorted with a widow named _Lathrop_ until their relation has become a public scandal, by way of “keeping up appearances” marries an impecunious vestal from South Carolina, named _Mary Ashby_. As he immediately installs _Mrs. Emerson_ in a luxurious rural habitation somewhere on Long Island and practically deserts her, this expedient would hardly seem to be of much social service. However, after neglecting his wife for about six years, _Emerson_ grows weary of his mistress, quarrels with her and runs away from her to visit his wife. The mistress, much incensed, follows him, and a sort of three-cornered debate,--protracted, sophistical, and indelicate,--on the sexual relation is held at _Mrs. Emerson’s_ country residence, in the course of which that lady manifests a sweet temper and admirable self-control. After it is over, _Mrs. Lathrop_ (to whom it has been intimated that in men the ruling passion is sex impulse and that she is growing somewhat elderly) goes away in a peaceful and much chastened mood. _Mrs. Emerson_ then snubs her neglectful spouse and signifies that he may not hope to possess her as his wife until he has recognized the supremacy of Love, which it is implied he will soon do. It is all very edifying, of course,--especially as the author of it, apparently, knows as much about love, as distinguished from carnal concupiscence, as a tomcat on the tiles does. This was the cast:

_John Emerson_ Edmund Breese. _Bobby Ashby_ Ernest Glendinning. _Maxcy Steuer_ “Bobby” North. _Wellesley_ Frederick Burton. _Mary Ashby Emerson_ Charlotte Walker. _Eleanor Lathrop_ Amelia Gardner.

A CHANGE OF NAMES.--THE FARCE OF “THE CONCERT.”

Belasco’s management of the theatre in West Forty-second Street which was the first to bear his name extended over a period of twelve years. In the spring of 1910 he began to feel dubious as to whether he would,--perhaps as to whether he could,--renew his lease at the end of its term, two years later. He therefore determined to restore to that house its former name of the Republic, and thereafter to designate the Stuyvesant as the Belasco Theatre. That change, accordingly, was made, in July, 1910; and on August 22 the Republic Theatre was reopened under that name with a performance of a play made by Mr. Winchell Smith, on the basis of a clever and amusing story by Mr. George Randolph Chester, called “Bobby Burnitt”: that play was produced by Cohan & Harris. On October 10 the second Belasco Theatre was opened with a performance of “The Concert,” adapted by Leo Ditrichstein from a German original by Herman Bahr: it had been acted, for the first time, at the Nixon Theatre, Pittsburgh, September 19.

The theme of “The Concert” is an old one,--Woman’s infatuation relative to the Musical Performer. The intention is to satirize that foolish state of the female mind, and also to expose and ridicule a despicable combination of febrile sensuousness, splenetic temper, and insensate egotism, often, and unjustly, designated “the artistic temperament.” That intention is accomplished in a manner certainly ludicrous, though heavy-handed and cynical: it is characteristic that the Stage of the Present, reflecting some aspects of life in the Present, while from time to time it exhibits much that is clever, brilliant, hard, satirical, exhibits little--whether of writing or of acting--that is amiable, playful, engaging, pleasant, and therefore potent to make the spirit gentle and happy. The chief postulate of “The Concert” and the manipulation of it are strongly reminiscent of “Delicate Ground” and “Divorçons.” The musician, _Gabor Arany_, having lied to his wife as to a purposed excursion from his home, which he says is undertaken for the purpose of “giving a concert,”--goes to a secluded retreat in the mountains of New York with one of his pupils, the wife of another man, intending an amorous intrigue with her. The other man, in

Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.

LEO DITRICHSTEIN AS _GABOR ARANY_ AND JANET BEECHER AS _HELEN_, _MRS. ARANY_, IN “THE CONCERT”]

company with the wife of the musician, pursues those fugitives, and, when the two couples are confronted, the insulted husband, after the manner of _Citizen Sangfroid_, blandly proposes that the complication of domestic affairs shall be solved and adjusted by an exchange of wives, sequent on the attainment of divorce. The silly woman who admires the musician is rescued by exposure of his selfishness and her folly, the musician is baffled and rebuked, and domestic peace is supposed to be restored.

Mr. Ditrichstein called his adaptation of Mr. Bahr’s play “a comedy.” The terms applied to plays, by way of classification, are somewhat indefinite at the best, but as to _Comedy_,--the general understanding is that it should be a dramatic composition which, in delineating character and manners, while piquant by virtue of delicate exaggeration and amusing by virtue of clever equivoke, moves within the limits of reason and probability. “The Concert” begins with farce and proceeds with violent absurdity. The persons implicated would not, in real life, act in a manner even approximate to that which is prescribed for them. The note that is struck, considered at its best, is that of burlesque. The play, in as far as it is a play,--the clash of character and the exposition of conduct,--begins in the Second Act. Sixteen persons are implicated in the action of the piece, but only seven of them are seen after the first curtain has fallen. The tone of the Second and Third acts, except at moments, is radically and extravagantly farcical. But toward the end an opportunity occurs, and it is duly improved,--perhaps in jest, perhaps in earnest,--of saying the magnanimous words that are usually attributed to philosophical lovers: “If you love a woman, and that woman happens to be your wife, you wish her to be _happy_, and if you discover that she thinks she can be happier with another man than she is with you your wish is that she should join him, if she can be sure of her feelings”; and so forth. At the close of this piece the wife of the genius affectionately assures him that she has all along understood his conduct, but is willing to pardon him if he will be faithful in future, and, by way of emphasizing her docile, charitable, and eminently tolerant spirit, she produces bottles of hair-dye and proceeds to rejuvenate his fading locks.--The scenic setting, the stage management, and the acting by which this farce were commended to public approbation were so appropriate, so resourceful and deft, so careful, zealous, spirited, and effective, that it gained immense popularity. This was the original cast of “The Concert”:

_Gabor Arany_ Leo Ditrichstein. _Dr. Dallas_ William Morris. _McGinnis_ John W. Cope. _Helen Arany_ Janet Beecher. _Flora Dallas_ Jane Grey. _Eva Wharton_ Alice Leal Pollock. _Mrs. McGinnis_ Belle Theodore. _Miss Merk_ Catherine Proctor. _Fanny Martin_ Edith Cartwright. _Claire Flower_ Margaret Bloodgood. _Natalie Moncrieff_ Adelaide Barrett. _Edith Gordon_ Cora Witherspoon. _Georgine Roland_ Elsie Glynn. _Laura Sage_ Edna Griffin. _Mrs. Lennon-Roch_ Kathryn Tyndall. _Mrs. Chatfield_ Mary Johnson.

LOSS AND GRIEF.--“NO MAN BEARS SORROW BETTER.”

“Thanks for your kind sympathy, dear William Winter,” Belasco wrote to me, in July, 1911. “I have thought of you so often in my grief. I should be glad to come over to your island to see you, but I am not able.... I am trying to be resigned; and, though the pain is great, I must be. Nothing can ever be the same again, and it is all very, very hard. Yet I must go on, and I shall. There is nothing but our work....” He had, within less than two months of each other, lost his father and his dearly loved daughter Augusta,--Mrs. William Elliott. His father was stricken on April 6th, and he died on the 11th, at his home, No. 1704 Sutter Street, San Francisco. Belasco, however, was at that time in almost distracted attendance on his daughter, at Asheville, North Carolina, and could not leave her when he received news of his father’s illness; nor was he able to attend his funeral. Humphrey Abraham Belasco was buried beside his wife in Hills of Eternity Cemetery, San Mateo, California, April 12th.