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
[Illustration:
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
[Illustration:
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.
[Illustration:
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
[Illustration:
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
[Illustration:
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.
The death of Belasco’s daughter,--“my little guardian,” as he has called
her in talk with me,--was a bereavement more than usually bitter. She
was a creature of extraordinary goodness and beauty, of exquisite
sensibility, gentle and lovely in nature, childlike in disposition, the
pitiful friend of all sorrowing and suffering persons, the special
comrade and comfort of her father, and her death came within less than
five months after her marriage--to the actor William Elliott. When
Belasco was informed of his child’s attachment to Elliott (whom she had
met when he was a member of the company supporting Miss Starr in “The
Rose of the Rancho”) he, at first, opposed their marriage,--“Not,” as he
has told me, “that I had any personal objection to ‘Billy,’--who is a
dear fellow
[Illustration:
“_Oft in the still night_
_Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me_
_Fond Memory brings the light_
_Of Other Days around me._”
From an original made for, and loaned by, Mrs. David Belasco.
]
and whom I always liked,--but because I had hoped she would choose a
husband out of the theatrical profession, one who could live all his
life with her,--which the inevitable travelling of theatrical life makes
practically impossible. But when I saw that my little girl was pining
for him, that a great love had come to her and that she could never be
happy without him, I brushed all my own hopes and wishes away and urged
their immediate marriage. I thought to keep her always near her mother
and me, so as a wedding gift I had an apartment fitted up for them in
the Marie Antoinette, where we live, and we were all going to be
together and happy: but it was not to be.”
William Elliott and Augusta Belasco were wedded, at the home of her
parents, January 27, 1911: as they were about to start on their
honeymoon, the bride, while bidding good-bye to her father, was stricken
with sudden illness and collapsed. At first it was believed that her
illness was merely a transient disorder, which would soon yield to
treatment. For a few weeks her condition fluctuated, but seemed, on the
whole, to improve: then, at the end of March, she began rapidly to
decline, and Belasco was informed that she was afflicted with an acute
form of tuberculosis, which must soon cause her death. That was an issue
which her father could not and would not accept without a bitter
struggle. “I had seen so many desperate cases of consumption saved, for
years,” he said, “that I _could not believe_ my little girl, who had
always seemed so strong and well, who was so young and lovely, on the
threshold of her new life, with everything to live for, must die. I
gathered her up, overnight, and fled with her to Asheville.” There
Belasco leased Witchwood, a fine residence,--the home of the late
Colonel Charles W. Woolsey,--and installed his daughter in it. Her fatal
malady could not, however, be stayed, though every expedient was tried
that love could prompt or wealth employ, and she grew rapidly worse. On
May 1, in a forlorn hope that the climate of Colorado might prove
beneficial, Belasco chartered a special train and removed her to
Broadmoor, a beautiful place in the environs of Colorado
Springs,--where, on the afternoon of June 5, after great suffering borne
with patience and fortitude, she died. Her body was taken to New York;
funeral services were held there, at the Temple Ahawath Chesed, on June
9, and late on that day she was laid in her grave in Ahawath Chesed
Cemetery, at Linden Hills, Long Island.
“My little Augusta,” writes Belasco in a note made for me, “was the
gentlest creature I have ever known and the kindest. No one but
myself will ever know how many poor girls and young men have had
places _made_ for them in my companies because she came and asked
it, with her dear little arms about my neck. And she had good
judgment, too; I never have regretted employing any of the people
she interceded for. She was just a child to the very end. She had
caught some of my foolish little superstitions, and when she died
she was surrounded with pretty little painted butterflies that she
had pinned about her to help her to get well--‘and I know they
will,’ she told the doctor, ‘because my father believes in them and
says so!’ Each of my girls was my ‘favorite’ child, but the younger
was my special companion, who always took care of me. Though she
might have been up till all hours the night before, she never
missed getting up to see that I had my breakfast properly, and I
never got home too late for her to come pattering to my room to see
me safely tucked into bed. I think that, in her heart, the poor
child must have had some premonition that she was going to die
soon, because she was so fascinated by my play of ‘Peter Grimm.’ I
had no thought, when I was writing it, that she was to be taken
away from me; but I had long wanted to write something that might
show death in a beautiful way; something that would touch on
immortality as a vivid reality, just a flash beyond this life, and
so help to inspire hope. I used to talk to my little girl about it,
and she was the first to read my play when it was finished. I gave
it to her one evening and waited for her verdict far into the
night, and her approval meant much to me. She attended all the
rehearsals, and one night she told me that after seeing ‘Peter
Grimm’ no one should be afraid to die. It was the last play she
ever saw,--and it is my comfort to believe that its message entered
her soul.”
Belasco’s elder daughter, Reina Victoria, was married to the theatrical
manager Morris Gest, of New York, at Sherry’s, in that city, on June 1,
1909.
A DRAMA OF SPIRITUALISM.
(Fragmentary Notes, Not Revised.)
The extreme dissatisfaction of the _Ghost_, who, on returning from the
spirit world to this mundane sphere, ascertains that his, or her,
earthly sweetheart or husband has formed a nuptial alliance with
somebody else has been noticed by various poetical writers in deeply
affecting verse, dramatic, descriptive, and pathetic,...
Belasco’s play “The Return of Peter Grimm” deals with the mysterious and
certainly important subject of Spiritualism,--a subject which deserves
all the thoughtful, studious inquiry which has, in recent years, been
bestowed on it by many persons of exceptional intellectual capacity and
power. It is, nevertheless, a subject which is generally treated with
pitying contempt or scornful antagonism, especially by those
persons,--the vast majority of humanity,--who are most comprehensively
ignorant of its history and its apparent phenomena. It was, accordingly,
a bold choice which selected that subject for exposition in a drama of
prosaic, contemporaneous
[Illustration: AUGUSTA BELASCO, MRS. WILLIAM ELLIOTT
Original made for, and loaned by, Mrs. David Belasco.
]
setting, and it is a significant testimony at once to Belasco’s
managerial perspicacity and to his skill as a writer and a stage manager
that his play of “Grimm” achieved unusual success....
In the days of my youth, when I was a student at the Dane Law School of
Harvard College, it was my good fortune to gain the friendship of the
erudite lawyer Theophilus Parsons, who was a preceptor there, and to
listen to much interesting and instructive discourse by him on many
subjects--among them, the Swedenborgian faith, to which he was an
absolute and happy adherent. “Death,” he remarked, in expounding to me
the tenets of that faith, “is no more than walking from one room into
another.” The same thought (which has, of course, been cherished by many
persons) seems to have been predominant in the mind of Belasco when he
was writing “The Return of Peter Grimm.”...
BELASCO’S “THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM.”
In drama, whether prose or verse, the device has frequently been used of
bringing back to our material world the spirits of persons who have
passed out of mortal life, and causing them to pervade the scenes with
which they were associated in the body. That device is employed in
Belasco’s “The Return of Peter Grimm,” in which David Warfield made his
first and, thus far, his only approach to the realm of Imagination
[since this passage was written Warfield has appeared, 1915-’16, as _Van
Der Decken_, in a drama by Belasco on the subject of “The Flying
Dutchman.”--J. W.]. _Peter Grimm_, a prosperous, self-willed, kind, good
old man, who in the government of his family and the arrangement of his
worldly affairs has made serious errors,--the most deplorable of them
being the separation of his ward, a docile, affectionate girl named
_Kathrien_, from a youth who loves her and whom she loves, and her
betrothal to his nephew, _Frederik Grimm_, a hypocrite and a
scoundrel,--is suddenly stricken dead, of heart disease, and, after a
little time his spirit returns to the place which was his earthly home,
intent on retrieving those errors, discomfiting the rascal by whom he
has been deceived, and making his foster-child happy. Warfield,
personating _Peter Grimm_, first presented him as a mortal, afterward as
a spirit. The character,--honest, sturdy, opinionated, worldly-wise,
somewhat rough and imperious, yet intrinsically genial,--was correctly
assumed and expressed, but the actor’s denotement of spiritual being was
neither
[Illustration: REINA BELASCO. MRS. MORRIS GEST
Photograph by White. Belasco Collection.
]
imaginative nor sympathetic, and it did not create even the slightest
illusion.
The purpose of the dramatist seems to have been to intimate a notion,
comfortable to the general mind, that spiritual existence of beings once
mundane is merely a continuation of their everyday condition in this
world. In the absence of knowledge on the subject that assumption is as
tenable as any other. Persons who are commonplace in what we call Time
may reasonably be held to remain commonplace in what we call Eternity.
No one knows. The Book of Destiny has not been opened. But the
rationality of assumption which makes of “that undiscovered country”
only a prolongation of this earthly scene at once dissipates, especially
for dramatic purpose and effect, all atmosphere of _spirituality_, all
glamour of the ideal, which happily might be superinduced by imaginative
treatment of a mysterious subject. However prosaic the quality of a
disembodied spirit may remain, it seems reasonable to assume that there
must be some essential difference between the material body and the
spiritual body, and the person undertaking to represent a spirit could
succeed, if at all, in denoting that difference not by stage tricks but
only by mental power and affluence of emotion, by weird strangeness of
individuality, by exquisite sensibility, by magnetism, and by the
artistic skill to liberate those forces and so elicit and control the
sympathy of his auditors. Warfield’s personation of _Grimm_ gave not the
faintest intimation of spirituality, and there was not one gleam of
imagination in his presentment of the spirit.
Few actors have ever succeeded in conveying to an audience any really
convincing, absorbing sense of _spiritual presence_. The dramatist of
“Peter Grimm” probably did not intend that any such sense should be
conveyed. Warfield, apparently, did not attempt to convey it, and if, as
appears true, it was the actor’s purpose to present _Grimm_ as
essentially the same person after death as before, then his personation,
undoubtedly, was the rounded result of a definite plan, and was, as
such, entirely successful.
The part of _Peter Grimm_ has been described as one of great difficulty.
It is, on the contrary, very easy. Its requirement is sincerity.
_Grimm_, as a spirit, clothed as in mortal life, must move among persons
who were his friends, unseen by them, unheard when he speaks, eagerly
desirous to influence their conduct, but practically helpless to do so,
except at moments when accession of extreme sensibility on the part of
one or another of them provides occasion, until, at last, force of
circumstances and the impelling guidance of the dead man achieve his
purpose. Acted in the spirit precisely as in the flesh, as a good old
man, the part makes no draft upon the resources of mind or feeling or
upon the faculty of expression that any good actor might not easily
satisfy. The situations wherein _Grimm_, ostensibly, is ignored by the
other persons on the stage in fact revolve around him and are dependent
on his presence; he engages the sympathy of the audience practically to
the exclusion of all the other characters, and the almost universal
interest--whether assenting or dissenting--in anything relating directly
to the theme of spiritual survival after death, together with the
novelty of a ghost displayed in the environment of every-day, centres
observation on _Grimm_ and his personator.
Warfield’s performance, notwithstanding the prosaic atmosphere of it,
was interesting, and his excursion into the realm of the occult was, at
least, calculated to stimulate thought on a serious subject. In this, as
in many other matters, the degree of approval gained by the play and its
performance will ever be variably accordant to taste. To some persons,
no doubt, the ideal of a newly dead child being borne away on his
spirit-uncle’s shoulders, singing about “Uncle Rat has gone to town to
buy his niece a wedding gown,” and musically inquiring, “What shall the
wedding breakfast be? Hard-boiled eggs and a cup of tea?” will be
delightful. Others, equally without doubt, will fail to find it
impressive.
“The Return of Peter Grimm” was acted for the first time, January 2,
1911, at the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston; and for the first time in
New York, October 18, the same year, at the present Belasco Theatre.
This was the original cast of that play:
_Peter Grimm_ David Warfield.
_Frederik Grimm_ John Sainpolis.
_James Hartman_ Thomas Meighan.
_Andrew MacPherson_ Joseph Brennan.
_Rev. Henry Batholommey_ William Boag.
_Colonel Tom Lawton_ John F. Webber.
_Willem_ Percy Helton.
_Kathrien_ Janet Dunbar.
_Mrs. Batholommey_ Marie Bates.
_Marta_ Marie Reichardt.
_The Clown_ Tony Bevan.
CONCERNING THE EUNUCHS OF CRITICASTERISM.
The gentle Goldsmith, commenting on a meanness in human nature which
causes little minds to envy and disparage the achievements of large
ones, remarked that “There are a set of men called
[Illustration:
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID WARFIELD AS _PETER GRIMM_, IN “THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM”]
answerers of books, who take upon themselves to watch the republic of
letters and distribute reputation by the sheet: they somewhat resemble
the eunuchs in a seraglio, who are incapable of giving pleasure
themselves and hinder those that would.” Such emasculated perverters of
the function of criticism,--scribblers bloated with envy engendered by
conscious intellectual impotence,--flourish more or less in all periods;
they are peculiarly prosperous in this one, and their envious malice is
employed with at least as much industry in the “answering” and defaming
of dramatists and actors as in the “answering” of books. Before Belasco
had produced “Peter Grimm” in New York and almost in the hour of his
personal bereavement, a representative specimen of that wretched
brotherhood, itching to detract from the achievement of an author whom
he could not hope ever to approach, published the false statement that
Belasco was only _part_ author of that play. Among the papers loaned to
me by Belasco is a copy of the following letter, which I print here
because the misrepresentation alluded to has been several times iterated
and the refutation of it should be placed on record:
(_Belasco to a Quidnunc._)
“Belasco Theatre, New York,
“July 22, 1911.
“In your article in the current ‘--------’ there is a misstatement
which I should be much obliged to you if you would rectify, as it
places both Mr. Cecil De Mille and myself in a false light.
“Your article states that Mr. Cecil De Mille is my ‘_collaborator_’
in Mr. Warfield’s new play, ‘The Return of Peter Grimm.’ I am not
aware whether you saw the play when it was presented in Boston,
Chicago and Pittsburg last season. If you did so, however, you must
remember that on the play bill I gave full credit to Mr. De Mille
_for an idea_--WHICH I PURCHASED FROM HIM AND PAID VERY HANDSOMELY
FOR. As for the play--in its construction, its dialogue, its plot
and its characterizations--the play is _mine_ and MINE ONLY.
“Mr. De Mille, I know well, will be the first person to verify this
statement of mine, and in view of the fact that my play has not yet
been presented in New York--and may possibly prove a failure
there--I think it is only fair that _I_ should be held exclusively
responsible for _my own work_....”
“THE WOMAN”--AND MR. ABRAHAM GOLDKNOPF.
Belasco devoted most of the summer of 1911 to work on William C. De
Mille’s play entitled “The Woman,” which he produced for the first time
in New York, September 19, that year, at the Republic Theatre: a trial
production of that play had been effected, April 17 preceding, at the
New National Theatre, Washington, D. C. It is a highly effective
melodrama, of the “contemporaneous interest” type, and it implicates
twelve persons, nine of whom are germane to its action. It is neat in
construction; it skilfully utilizes the invaluable element of suspense,
and interest in its progress is cumulative to the dramatic climax. This,
in brief, is its story:
A corrupt politician, the _Honorable “Jim” Blake_, a member of the
national legislature, is scheming to get a specious bill enacted into
law, whereby over-capitalization of railroad corporations and wholesale
swindling of the public can be perpetrated in the guise of legality.
Another member of the legislature, the _Honorable Matthew Standish_,
perceptive of the latent iniquity of that measure and of the predatory
intent of _Blake_, has so vigorously opposed the enactment of it and so
bitterly assailed its sponsors that _Blake_ and his associates fear to
force its passage. They determine, therefore, to divert attention of the
people from the opposition of _Standish_ to their corrupt measure and
purposed malfeasance by blasting his personal reputation with social
scandal. In their effort to do this they ascertain that several years
previous the _Honorable Matthew_, inflexible before Plutus, has
succumbed before Venus--has, in short, registered at an hotel with a
woman not his wife. The name of that woman is not known to their
informant, and it is the despicable task of _Blake_ and his adherents to
ascertain her identity in order to ruin his public career by convicting
him of private misconduct. That task they attempt to perform by
endeavoring to extort from a young woman, _Wanda Kelly_, the operator in
charge of a telephone exchange desk, a telephone number in New York
which _Standish_, in Washington, has called for, immediately after being
apprised of the dastardly purpose of _Blake_ and his associates. The
identity of the concealed and errant she as _Blake’s_ daughter, the wife
of one of his chief supporters, the _Honorable Mark Robertson_, is
deftly discovered to the audience by the device of a second telephone
message to her, by her husband, immediately after the close of the
warning of impending disclosure by _Standish_. The sympathetic _Miss
Kelly_ resolutely persists in her protective secrecy as to _The Woman_
at the other end of the wire, and the climax is then attained when
_Standish_ refuses to be driven from his public duty by the threatened
assault on his private character and when _Mrs. Robertson_, having in an
agony of dread listened to the unsuccessful coaxing and badgering of
_Miss Kelly_, with sudden and desperate courage terminates the anxious
situation by avowal of her delinquency, thus providing her corrupt
parent and spouse with considerably more information than they desire
to publish as to the amatory weaknesses of the obdurate _Standish_. This
was the cast with which that play was first presented in New York:
_The Hon. Jim Blake_ John W. Cope.
_Tom Blake_ Harold Vosburgh.
_The Hon. Mark Robertson_ Edwin Holt.
_Grace, Mrs. Robertson_ Jane Peyton.
_The Hon. Matthew Standish_ Cuyler Hastings.
_Ralph Van Dyke_ Carleton Macy.
_The Hon. Silas Gregg_ Stephen Fitzpatrick.
_The Hon. Tim Neligan_ William Holden.
_A Guest_ Langdon West.
_A Page_ George Van Blake.
_A Waiter_ José Rossi.
_Wanda Kelly_ Mary Nash.
The exceptional success of Belasco’s production of “The Woman” prompted
a genius thitherto unknown to fame, a certain inspired and amiable
barber of New York, Mr. Abraham Goldknopf, to assert that it was stolen
from a sublime drama indited by himself in the intervals of tonsorial
exercise and entitled “Tainted Philanthropy.” Belasco, in defending
himself against this preposterous claim, resorted to a unique and costly
though conclusive expedient. But before describing the trial of Mr.
Goldknopf’s allegations, it is convenient here to examine with some
particularity the general subject of
BELASCO AND PLAGIARISM.
“FOLLY LOVES THE MARTYRDOM OF FAME.”
No person rises to eminence without exciting antagonism and incurring
detraction. Malice is quick to perceive any possibility, however
trivial, of tarnishing a distinguished character, and hatred is
ingenious in devising specious means of disparagement. The slightest
appearance of weakness in any talented person favorably conspicuous in
the public eye is eagerly seized as a ground of condemnation. Every
close student of biography must have observed, relative to almost every
eminent person commemorated, that there is always some one particular
form of reproach which, by diligent, persistent iteration, is made to
adhere to that person’s name, so that at last the one is seldom
mentioned without association with the other. Eminent actors of the Past
have been particularly singled out for defamation in this way. Barton
Booth, for example, scholar and poet as well as actor, is stigmatized,
on no competent authority, as a gross voluptuary; Garrick, because he
was prudent, especially while he was poor, is styled an avaricious
niggard; Kemble, an opium sot; Edwin Booth, a drunkard, which is a
specially contemptible slander. Henry Irving was one of the greatest of
actors, but, because he happened to be a person of many peculiarities,
perfectly natural to him, we are forever hearing that he had “affected
mannerisms”--which is distinctly untrue. Every department of biography
furnishes examples of this form of aspersion. In the case of Belasco the
customary disparagement takes the shape of an iterated charge of
_Plagiarism_. In this work an examination of that charge is essential.
“It is an old trick of Detraction,” says Moore, in his “Life of
Sheridan,” “and one of which it never tires, to father the works of
eminent writers upon others; or, at least, while it kindly leaves
an author the credit for his worst performances, to find some one
in the background to ease him of the fame of his best.... Indeed,
if mankind were to be influenced by those _Qui tam_ critics...
Aristotle must refund to one Ocellus Lucanus, Virgil must make a
_cessio bonorum_ in favor of Pisander, the Metamorphoses of Ovid
must be credited to the account of Parthenius of Nicæa, and
Sheridan... must surrender the glory of having written ‘The School
for Scandal’ to a certain anonymous young lady who died of a
consumption in Thames Street.... Sheridan had, in addition to the
resources of his own wit, a quick apprehension of what suited his
purpose in the wit of others, and a power of enriching whatever he
adopted from them with such new graces as gave him a sort of claim
of paternity over it and made it all his own. ‘_C’est mon_
_bien_,’ said Molière, when accused of borrowing, ‘_et je le
reprens partout où je le trouve_.’”
THE “TRICK” AS APPLIED.
“Plagiarism,” says The Dictionary, is “the act of appropriating _the
ideas_ or the language of another and passing them for one’s [_sic!_]
own; literary theft.” It would not be very difficult, testing Belasco’s
plays by that definition, and excluding all other considerations, to
invest the charge of plagiarism against him, in some instances, with
validity. The last part of “Hearts of Oak” is borrowed from Leslie’s
“The Mariner’s Compass”; “La Belle Russe” is based on situations taken
from “Forget Me Not” and “The New Magdalen”; the thrilling situation in
the Third Act of “The Girl I Left Behind Me” is based on a similar
situation in Boucicault’s “Jessie Brown; or, the Relief of Lucknow”; the
agonizing situation in the Third Act of “The Darling of the Gods,” in
which a military despot extorts information from a woman by forcing her
to gaze on her lover subjected to torture, is derived (and bettered)
from Sardou’s “La Tosca.” Other instances of similarity could be
specified. It would, however, be a manifest injustice to stigmatize
Belasco, _and only Belasco_, as a plagiarist on the
[Illustration:
Photograph by Count Jean de Strelecki. Belasco’s Collection.
“THE STUDENT”--DAVID BELASCO]
ground of his indebtedness to plays earlier than his. He has done only
what all other dramatists have done since the beginning of the craft;
that is, he has based _some_ of his plays on dramatic expedients and
situations that have long been considered to be common property.
AN ANCIENT USAGE.
Several of Shakespeare’s plays were based by him on plays of earlier
date, by other authors. Dryden borrowed freely from Spanish plays and
sometimes from Corneille and Molière,--a fact which caused Scott to
remark (Preface to “The Assignation”) that “originality consists in the
mode of treating a subject more than in the subject itself.” English
dramatists, from Wycherly onward, have freely borrowed from Molière.
Fielding, there is reason to believe, derived an occasional hint from
the great Frenchman, as also from Thomas Murphy. Goldsmith was a little
indebted to Wycherly. Hoadley borrowed from Farquhar; Steele from
Bickerstaff; Colman from Murphy; Sheridan from both Wycherly and
Congreve, and perhaps from his mother’s play of “The Discovery” and her
novel of “Sydney Biddulph”; Boucicault from many French sources and some
English ones. I would not be understood as approving or defending that
practice in dramatic authorship: on the contrary, in the whole course
of my long service as a dramatic critic and historian I have condemned
it. These words, written by me many years ago, relative to Boucicault,
indicate my view of _the practice_:
Dramatic authorship, indeed, seems to have been regarded by
him,--and by many other playwriters,--as a species by itself,
exempt from obligation to moral law. The bard who should “convey”
Milton’s “Lycidas” or Wordsworth’s great “Ode,” and, after making a
few changes in the text and introducing a few new lines, publish it
as a composition “original” with himself, would be deemed and
designated a literary thief. The dramatist, taking his plots from
any convenient source and rehashing incidents and speeches selected
from old plays, can publish the fabric thus constructed as an
“original drama,” and, so far from being discredited, can obtain
reputation and profit by that proceeding. [“Old Friends,” by W. W.:
1909.]
If the large majority of dramatic authors,--Sophocles, Shakespeare,
Racine, Molière, Sheridan, and the rest, down to the present day,--be
convicted of plagiarism on the ground that they have rehashed old
material, that charge will stand against Belasco. But the dramatist who,
with manifest truth, pleads, as Belasco can plead (and as I understand
that he does plead), “a well-known, universal, recognized custom”
cannot, justly, be singled out and stigmatized for plagiarism,--any more
than a respectable Turk, resident in Constantinople, with four wives,
can be singled out and stigmatized for bigamy. I no more approve the
custom of what I call “playwrighting” than I approve or advocate
polygamy,--but I speak for justice. Moreover, it is essential to be
remembered that the number of basic situations, in fiction as in fact,
is limited, and consideration of _the method_ of combining and treating
them must vitally affect the question of “originality.” To make an
avowed adaptation of the work of another, or, with credit, to base a
passage on suggestion derived from an incident in the work of another is
not plagiarism.
The fair investigator of the charge of plagiarism against Belasco will
find that it is twofold: it accuses him of appropriation from the works
of other writers precedent to him, and of appropriation from other
writers contemporary with him to whose writings he has had, or, as
alleged, may have had, access.
CHARLES READE ON PLAGIARISM.
In considering the first part of the accusation I would recommend all
inquirers to read the masterly exposition of the subject of Plagiarism
made by Charles Reade (himself one of the successful writers frequently,
in his day, accused of the offence), which is printed, in his collected
Works, as an appendix to his capital story of “The Wandering Heir,”--a
story first made public in dramatic form. That exposition is too long to
be quoted here in full, but the appended extract from it, which deals
with what Reade calls “the mere intellectual detraction” involved in the
charge that he had stolen “The Wandering Heir” from Dean Swift’s “The
Journal of a Modern Lady,” is illuminative:
“It [‘the mere intellectual detraction’] is founded on two
things--1. The sham-sample swindle, which I have defined. 2. On a
pardonable blunder.
“The blunder is one into which many criticasters of my day have
fallen; but a critic knows there is a vital distinction between
taking ideas from a _homogeneous_ source and from a _heterogeneous_
source, and that only the first mentioned of these two acts is
plagiarism; the latter is more like jewel-setting. Call it what you
will, it is not plagiarism.
“I will take the fraud and the blunder in order and illustrate them
by a few examples, out of thousands.
“By the identical process Pseudonymuncle has used to entrap your
readers into believing ‘The Wandering Heir’ a mere plagiarism from
Swift, one could juggle those who read quotations, not books, into
believing:--
“1. That the Old Testament is _full_ of indelicacy.
“2. That the miracles of Jesus Christ are none of them the miracles
of a God, or even of a benevolent man--giving water intoxicating
qualities, when the guests had drunk enough, goodness knows;
cursing a fig-tree; driving pigs to a watery grave. This is how
Voltaire works the sham-sample swindle, and gulls Frenchmen that
let him read the Bible for them.
“3. That Virgil never wrote a line he did not take from Lucretius
or somebody else.
“4. That Milton the poet is _all_ Homer, Euripides, and an Italian
play called ‘Adam in Paradise.’
“5. That Molière is _all_ Plautus and Cyrano de Bergerac, ‘en prend
_tout_ son bien où il le trouve.’
“6. That the same Molière _never_ writes grammatical French.
“7. That Shakespeare is _all_ Plautus, Horace, Holinshed,
Belleforest, and others.
“8. That Corneille had not an idea he did not steal from Spain.
“9. That Scott has not an original incident in all his works.
“10. That five Italian operas are _all_ English and Irish music.
“11. That the overture to ‘Guillaume Tell’ is _all_ composed by
Swiss shepherds.
“12. That ‘Robinson Crusoe’ is a mere theft from Woodes, Rogers,
and Dampier.
“Not one of these is a greater lie, and few of them are as great
lies, as to call ‘The Wandering Heir’ a plagiarism from Swift.
“Now for the blunder. That will be best corrected by putting
examples of jewel-setting and examples of plagiarism cheek by jowl.
“Corneille’s ‘Horace,’ a tragedy founded on a _heterogeneous_
work,--viz., an historical narrative by Livy,--is not a plagiarism.
His ‘Cid,’ taken from a Spanish play, is plagiarism. Shakespeare’s
‘Comedy of Errors’ and Molière’s ‘Avare’ are plagiarisms, both from
Plautus. Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth,’ taken from a _heterogeneous_
work, a chronicle, is no plagiarism, though he uses a much larger
slice of Holinshed’s dialogue than I have taken from Swift, and
follows his original more closely. The same applies to his
‘Coriolanus.’ This tragedy is not a plagiarism; for Plutarch’s Life
of Coriolanus is a _heterogeneous_ work, and the art with which the
great master uses and versifies _Volumnia’s_ speech, as he got it
from North’s translation of Plutarch, is jewel-setting, not
plagiarism. By the same rule, ‘Robinson Crusoe,’ though Defoe
sticks close to Woodes, Rogers, and Dampier in many particulars of
incident and reflection, is not a plagiarism, being romance founded
on books of fact. The distinction holds good as to single incidents
or short and telling speeches. Scott’s works are literally crammed
with diamonds of incident and rubies of dialogue culled from
_heterogeneous_ works, histories, chronicles, ballads, and oral
traditions. But this is not plagiarism; it is jewel-setting.
Byron’s famous line--
‘The graves of those who cannot die,’
is a plagiarism from another poet, Crabbe; but _Wolsey’s_ famous
distich in Shakespeare’s ‘Henry the Eighth’ is not a plagiarism
from Wolsey; it is an historical jewel set in a _heterogeneous_
work, and set as none but a great inventor ever yet set a
fact-jewel....”
“FOR THE DEFENDANT.”
Examination of Belasco’s plays will reveal that they are, for the
greater part, founded on what Reade designates “_heterogeneous
works_,”--that is, while he has in some instances borrowed or utilized
material long generally regarded as common property, he has gone, far
more, to history and record,--and that his plays contain more original
writing than ninety per cent. of the plays which are customarily acted
on the English-speaking Stage.
Turning from the question of what Belasco may or may not have derived
from elder dramatists, we come to a field in which it is easy to move
with definite, assured steps. The first accusation against him of
plagiarism from a contemporary, as far as I have been able to ascertain,
was made by Albert M. Palmer, on information and belief, in regard to
the play of “The Millionaire’s Daughter,” first produced at the Baldwin
Theatre, San Francisco, May 19, 1879. Palmer had been given to
understand that Belasco, in this play, had infringed Bronson Howard’s
play of “The Banker’s Daughter,” first produced at the Union Square
Theatre, November 30, 1878, and which Maguire had endeavored to secure
for Baldwin’s. He sent his attorney, W. Barnes, to see Belasco’s play of
“The Millionaire’s Daughter,” accompanied by assistants, who took down
as much as possible of the dialogue. After the performance Belasco said
to Maguire: “It is not necessary for Mr. Barnes to try to take down my
dialogue: he has _seen_ the play: tell him he can have a copy of the
manuscript, if he wishes.” Barnes advised Palmer that there was _no
plagiarism_ by Belasco, and there the matter ended.
The second accusation was that of Howard P. Taylor, alleging that
Belasco took material portions of “May Blossom” from “Caprice”: Taylor
would not bring that charge into court, though Belasco invited him to do
so; and Harrison Grey Fiske, the editor of “The Dramatic Mirror,” the
publication in which the false accusation had been repeatedly made,
publicly declared it to be unwarranted.
Beyond these, I have been furnished by my friend Judge A. G.
Dittenhoefer (acting with Belasco’s permission) with a list showing that
six distinct, formal charges of plagiarism have been made against
Belasco and redress sought by legal action for injury thus alleged to
have been done by him. The plays as to which these charges have been
made are (1) “The Wife”; (2) “Du Barry”; (3) “Sweet Kitty Bellairs”; (4)
“The Woman”; (5) “The Case of Becky”; (6) “The Boomerang.”
In the first of these cases suit was instituted, in 1888, by Fannie
Aymar Matthews, against David Belasco and Henry C. De Mille, praying for
an
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO
Photograph by the Misses Selby. Author’s Collection.
]
injunction to restrain the further presentation of their play of “The
Wife,” on the ground that it was a plagiarism of her play entitled
“Washington Life.” The action was tried before the Hon. Miles Beach,
Justice of the Supreme Court of New York. Judge Beach decided in favor
of Belasco and De Mille, finding that there was no infringement, _no
plagiarism_.
The second case was an action brought by the French writer M. Richepin,
January 25, 1902, in which he demanded an accounting for the receipts
from representation of Belasco’s play of “Du Barry,” on the ground that
it was, in fact, a play written by the Plaintiff. M. Richepin would not
bring this case to trial, and it was finally discontinued, in January,
1908.
In the third case Grace B. Hughes (otherwise known as Mary Montagu)
began an action, in the Circuit Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York, February 3, 1904, against Belasco,
Maurice Campbell, and Henrietta Crosman. The action was brought to
restrain further representation of Belasco’s play of “Sweet Kitty
Bellairs,” on the ground that it was, in fact, an infringement of the
Plaintiff’s play of “Sweet Jasmine.” Motion for an injunction was argued
before Judge Lacombe, on March 18, 1904, and on March 26 it was denied,
Judge Lacombe holding that there was _no plagiarism_. The case was never
brought to trial, and it was stricken from the calendar, on March 3,
1913.
The fourth case (which is dealt with in detail, page 336, _et seq._) was
the action brought against Belasco and William C. De Mille by Abraham
Goldknopf, in February, 1912, in the United States District Court for
the Southern District of New York, praying for an injunction to restrain
the further representation of their play of “The Woman” on the ground
that it was, in fact, an infringement of Goldknopf’s play of “Tainted
Philanthropy.” Judge Holt, before whom the case was tried, held that
there was no infringement by Belasco and De Mille, _no plagiarism_, and
on March 3, 1913, final judgment was entered dismissing the Plaintiff’s
complaint, upon the merits.
In June, 1912, the fifth action against Belasco was brought by Amelia
Bachman and George L. McKay, seeking to restrain him from further
presentation of “The Case of Becky,” on the ground that it was, in fact,
a plagiarism of their play entitled “Etelle.” Trial of this action was
begun May 13, 1913, before Judge Julius M. Mayer, of the United States
District Court, and was concluded the next day. On July 9, 1913, Judge
Mayer rendered his decision, holding that there was _no plagiarism_ by
Belasco, and dismissed the Plaintiffs’ complaint, upon the merits.
The sixth case was an action begun on January 14, 1916, by Lila Longson,
to restrain Belasco, Winchell Smith, and Victor Mapes from further
presentation of their play of “The Boomerang,” upon the ground that it
was an infringement of her play of “The Choice.” The case was tried in
the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New
York, on September 19-21, and, at the close of the trial, Judge W. B.
Sheppard held that there was no infringement and dismissed the
complaint. Final judgment, dismissing the complaint upon the merits, was
entered September 25, 1916.
In all these cases only one judgment in favor of Belasco was
appealed,--that by Judge Mayer, in the action by Amelia Bachman and
George L. McKay, _in re_ “The Case of Becky.” Their appeal was taken to
the United States Circuit Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit and
was argued April 6, 1914. On May 12, following, the Circuit Court of
Appeals handed down its decision in favor of Belasco, affirming Judge
Mayer’s decision dismissing the complaint. The opinion of the Court was
written by Judge E. Henry Lacombe, and can be found in 224 Fed. Rep.,
page 817.
The significance of this summary of _facts_ is obvious. Belasco has
been, and is, freely accused of literary theft,--but on each and every
occasion when accusation has been made and investigated in Court he has
defeated his defamers and been completely vindicated.
CONCERNING BENEFITS--REMEMBERED AND FORGOT.
While Belasco, in common with the generality of dramatic authors, has
certainly profited by the example and sometimes by the labor of others
(a fact which he does not seek to conceal or deny, but which, on the
contrary, he has freely and fairly recognized and admitted), there is a
_per contra_ aspect of his relation to other play-writers which none of
his detractors,--and, for that matter, as far as I am aware, none of his
admirers and advocates except myself,--ever mentions,--namely, the
immense and direct advantage and profit derived by other play-writers
_from him_. Nor is that indebtedness confined to makers of plays: as
theatre manager, stage manager, mechanician, success for others if not
always for himself has walked with him, and for scores of persons
connected with the Theatre (many of them void of appreciation) his has
been the touch of a Midas, turning dross to gold and, incidentally,
establishing them in reputation. Among the makers of plays who, first
and last, have greatly profited by his sagacity, skill, and labor are
James A. Herne, Peter Robertson, Bronson Howard (who always handsomely
acknowledged the obligation), William Young, H. H. Boyesen, Henry C. De
Mille, A. C. Gunter, Clay M. Greene, P. M. Potter, Franklyn Fyles,
Charles Simon, Pierre Berton, Charles Klein, Lee Arthur, John Luther
Long, Richard Walton Tully, Miss Pauline Phelps, Miss Marion Short,
William C. De Mille, William J. Hurlbut, Eugene Walter, Avery Hopwood,
Edward J. Locke, Miss Alice Bradley, George Scarborough, and Winchell
Smith.[6] In all the mass of letters addressed to Belasco and examined
by me in preparing this Memoir I have found fitting acknowledgment of
benefits conferred by only two of those persons, aside from
Howard,--Franklyn Fyles and Mr. Scarborough. The latter wrote:
(_George Scarborough to David Belasco._)
“150 Madison Avenue, Tompkinsville,
“Staten Island, February 28, 1916.
“My dear Governor:--
“Just a brief line before the drop falls on poor little ‘Wetona’
[“The Heart of Wetona”] to-morrow night:
“It has been a great honor to sit at your feet the past few
months--to go to school to you. An infinite pleasure, also, to have
seen you work and known you.
“If the play gets over, the great measure of the success will be
yours. If it fails, the fault will be with the material which came
to you.
“Whatever the issue is, I want now to thank you for your many
personal courtesies, for your enthusiasm and your friendship.
Hereafter, when some would-be author ‘hits the ceiling’ at some
change you suggest in his ’script, please have him get me on the
telephone and I will cheerfully tell him how many kinds of a d----
fool he is not to know a master touch and not to appreciate the
Master’s interest.
“May you be preserved to the Theatre for a long, long time.
“Affectionately,
“_George Scarborough._”
The scope and variety of his labor as an author are impressively
signified in the following partial list of his writings:
THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF DAVID BELASCO.
(Note.--The dates given in the following table refer to the years
in which the plays specified _were written_,--and, therefore, in
some instances, they differ from the dates given in Chronology, and
elsewhere, which refer to _presentation_ of the plays.)
JUVENILE EFFORTS.
“Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.”
“Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp.”
Angel in Hell,” “An
Barmaid’s Revenge; or, The Fatal Corkscrew,” “The (burlesque).
Bohemian Girl,” “The (with music).
Bronze Statue,” “The.
Butcher’s Revenge; or, The Seven Buckets of Blood,” “The
(burlesque).
Death of Benedict Arnold,” “The.
Dying Boy’s Last Christmas,” “The.
“East Lynne” (burlesque).
Hanging of Nathan Hale,” “The.
“Jim Black; or, The Regulator’s Revenge” (_his first play_).
Roll of the Drum,” “The (before 1869).
Signing of the Declaration of Independence,” “The.
“Spiritland.”
Trovatore,” “Il (with music from the opera of that name).
WRITTEN BEFORE 1882-’83 (BELASCO’S NEW YORK CAREER BEGAN IN SEPTEMBER,
1882).
Ace of Spades,” “The (1877--or earlier).
“American Born” (based on “British Born”: 1882).
Assommoir,” “L’ (“Drink”: based on Zola’s novel: 1879).
Belle Russe,” “La (1880-’81).
“Bleak House” (from the novel--about July, 1875).
“Capitola” (a version of “The Hidden Hand”: 187[6?]).
“Cherry and Fair Star” (revision of the old spectacle so named:
187--).
“Chums” (1879--see “Hearts of Oak”).
Christmas Night; or, The Convict’s Return,” “The (1877).
Creole,” “The (based on Adolphe Belot’s story, “L’Article 47”:
1879-’80).
Cricket on the Hearth,” “The (from Dickens’ “Christmas Story”:
1877-’78).
Curse of Cain,” “The (with Peter Robertson: 1882).
“David Copperfield” (from the novel--before 1878).
Doll Master,” “The (1874-’75?).
“Dombey & Son” (from the novel--before 1878).
“Dora” (alteration of Charles Reade’s play: 1875).
“Faust” (1877).
Fast Family,” “A (adaptation of Sardou’s “La Famille Benoiton!”:
1879).
Haunted House,” “The (1877).
“Hearts of Oak” (based on “The Mariner’s Compass,” originally
called “Chums”: with James A. Herne: 1879).
Hidden Hand,” “The (from Mrs. Southworth’s book--at least three
different versions: before 1878).
Lone Pine,” “The (187[5?]).
Millionaire’s Daughter,” “The (1879).
Moonlight Marriage,” “The (“The Marriage by Moonlight”: based on
Watts Phillips’ “Camilla’s Husband”: 1879).
New Magdalen,” “The (from Collins’ novel--1874).
“Nicholas Nickleby” (from the novel--before 1879).
[Illustration:
Photograph by Count Jean de Strelecki. Belasco’s Collection.
DAVID BELASCO]
“Not Guilty” (alteration of Watts Phillips’ play of that name:
1878).
Octoroon,” “The (“retouched and altered” version of Boucicault’s
play: 1878).
“Oliver Twist” (version of, from earlier play and the novel--before
1878).
“Olivia” (dramatization of “The Vicar of Wakefield”: 1878).
“Our Mysterious Boarding House” (1877).
“Paul Arniff” (based in part on “The Black Doctor”: 1880).
Persecuted Traveller,” “The (1877).
Prodigal’s Return,” “The (1877).
Scottish Chiefs,” “The (from the novel--before 1878).
Storm of Thoughts,” “A (1877).
Stranglers of Paris,” “The (based on Adolphe Belot’s story of that
name: 1881: re-written, 1883).
“Struck Blind” (from a story: 1875).
“Sylvia’s Lovers” (1874-’75?).
“Thaddeus of Warsaw” (from the novel--before 1878).
“True to the Core” (alteration of T. P. Cooke’s “prize drama”:
1880).
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (at least two dramatizations of the
novel--before 1878).
“Wine, Women and Cards” (1877).
“Within an Inch of His Life” (based on Gaboriau’s story: 1879).
WRITTEN SUBSEQUENT TO 1882-’83.
Auctioneer,” “The (rewritten from a play made at his direction by
Charles Klein and Lee Arthur: 1901: again, 1913).
“Caught in a Corner” (revision of a play by Clay M. Greene--and
others: 1887).
Charity Ball,” “The (with Henry C. De Mille: 1889).
Darling of the Gods,” “The (with John Luther Long: 1901-’02).
“Du Barry” (1900-’01).
Girl I Left Behind Me,” “The (with Franklin Fyles: 1892).
Girl of the Golden West,” “The (1904).
Governor’s Lady,” “The (with Alice Bradley--1911-’12).
Grand Army Man,” “A (with Misses Pauline Phelps and Marion Short:
1906-’07).
Heart of Maryland,” “The (1890-’95).
Highest Bidder,” “The (based on “Trade”--which never was acted--by
Morton and Reese: 1887).
Kaffir Diamond,” “The (revision of play by E. J. Schwartz: 1888).
Lily,” “The (adaptation from “Le Lys” by Pierre Wolff and Gaston
Leroux: 1908-’09).
“Lord Chumley” (with Henry C. De Mille: 1888).
“Madame Butterfly” (based on a story of the same name by John
Luther Long: 1900).
Marquis,” “The (version of Sardou’s “Ferréol”: 1886).
“May Blossom” (based in part on his own play of “Sylvia’s Lovers”:
1882-’83).
“Men and Women” (with Henry C. De Mille: 1890).
“Miss Helyett” (rewritten from the French of Maxime Boucheron:
1891).
Music Master,” “The (altered and revised from play by Charles
Klein: 1903-’04).
“Naughty Anthony” (1899-1900).
“Pawn Ticket 210” (with Clay M. Greene--based on an idea in
Baring-Gould’s novel of “Court Royal”: 1887).
Prince and the Pauper,” “The (revision of a play by Mrs. Abby Sage
Richardson, based on Mark Twain’s novel: 1889-’90).
Return of Peter Grimm,” “The (1908-’10).
Rose of the Rancho,” “The (based on “Juanita,” by Richard Walton
Tully: 1905-’06).
Secret,” “The (adaptation from French of Henri Bernstein: 1913).
“She” (revision of William A. Gillette’s dramatization of Haggard’s
novel--1887).
“Sweet Kitty Bellairs” (based on the novel of “The Bath Comedy,” by
Agnes and Egerton Castle: 1902-’03).
Ugly Duckling,” “The (revision of a play by P. M. Potter: 1890).
“Under the Polar Star” (with Clay M. Greene: 18--: revised, 1896).
“Under Two Flags” (revision of play by P. M. Potter, based on
Ouida’s novel: 1901).
“Van Der Decken” (1913-’15).
“Valerie” (alteration of Sardou’s “Fernande”: 1885-’86).
Wall Street Bandit,” “A (revision of a play by A. C. Gunter: 1886).
Wanderer,” “The (revision of Maurice V. Samuels’ adaptation of
Wilhelm Schmidtbonn’s “Der Verlorene Sohn”: 1916-’17)
“Wife,” “The (with Henry C. De Mille: 1887).
“Younger Son,” “The (adapted from a German play named “Schlimme
Saat”: 1893).
“Zaza” (based on a French play of that name by Pierre Berton and
Charles Simon: 1898).
PLAYS AS YET UNACTED.
“Bubbles.”
“Jennie.”
“Jimsie, the Newsboy.”
Opera Singer,” “The.
“Repka Stroon.”
BELASCO AS A DRAMATIST:--A FRAGMENT.
Careful study of the plays of Belasco has convinced me that, much as he
has accomplished, he has not yet fully developed his powers or fully
expressed himself as a dramatist. There is ample evidence in his
writings that he abundantly possesses the natural faculty of dramatic
expression. That faculty is born--not made. The dramatic mind
comprehends a story not in narrative but in action, sees the characters
which are involved, each as a distinctive individual, perceives their
relations to one another, notes their movements and hears them speak. To
the dramatic mind the spectacle of human life is, essentially, one of
_movement_. But that spectacle is vast, tumultuous, bewildering, not to
be comprehended at once, perhaps not ever to be comprehended fully, and
certainly not to be comprehended without the reinforcement of large
experience and a profound, peaceful meditation. The reader of
Shakespeare feels that the fully developed intellect of that great
dramatist calmly brooded on the world: but there is no Shakespeare now,
and there has been no such thing as tranquillity in the world for many
long years.
Belasco, when he began to write, was a poor boy, imperfectly educated,
in a disorderly environment, subject to all sorts of distractions and
impediments, and throughout the whole of his career he has struggled
onward under the sharp spur of necessity, without leisure or peace. In
scarcely one of his many dramas is it possible to discern an _unforced_
dramatic impulse, spontaneously creative of an exposition of diversified
characters, acting and reacting upon circumstances, in dramatic
situations, and constituting an authentic picture of human nature and
life. In many of those dramas the _existence_ of that impulse is
perceptible, but almost invariably the growth of it is checked and the
sway of it is impeded by the necessity of haste, or of conformity to the
demand of some arbitrary occasion or of deference to the requirement of
some individual actor, or to weariness and dejection. Fine bits of
characterization appear; flashes of fancy frequently irradiate dialogue;
imagination imparts a splendid glow to striking situations,--as in “The
Darling of the Gods” and “The Girl I Left Behind Me,”--and pathos is
often elicited by simple means; but sometimes probability is wrested
from its rightful place, and extravagance of embellishment mingles with
verbosity to cause prolixity and embarrass movement. In a word, a sense
of _effort_, a strenuous urgency for the attainment of violent _effect_,
is largely perceptible in Belasco’s plays,--as, indeed, it is in nearly
the entire bulk of modern American Drama. How could it be otherwise?
“Like children bathing on the shore,
Buried a wave beneath,
Another wave succeeds before
We have had time to breathe.”
Belasco, a good son, affectionate and faithful, ever solicitous to
contribute to the support of his parents and their family, began labor
in childhood, and he has never ceased to labor. At an early age he
married, assuming the duties and incurring the responsibilities of a
husband and a father in harsh surroundings. In about twenty-five years,
working as factotum, secretary, teacher, agent, mechanical inventor,
actor, stage manager, theatre manager, and playwriter, and battling
against a powerful, unscrupulous, malignantly hostile commercial
antagonism, he raised himself from poverty-ridden obscurity to
independence, general public esteem, and international celebrity as a
theatrical leader. Throughout the ensuing fifteen years he increased his
eminence, becoming at last the representative theatrical manager of our
day [meaning, here, about 1902 to the present, 1917] in America. He has
adapted or rewritten more than 200-odd plays, has collaborated with
other writers in making twenty-odd new ones, and is himself the sole
author of about thirty more, most of which have been acted but several
of which have not. The wonder is not that his writings exhibit some
defects, but that, at their best, they contain so much truthful
portrayal of character, pictorial reflection of life, fine dramatic
situation, and compelling power to thrill the imagination and touch the
heart. The time, it seems to me, has not yet come for attempting a
comprehensive and final estimate of his faculty and achievement as a
dramatist. Whether as an author or a character, he presents a singular,
elusive, and perplexing study. The constitution of his mind, I have
often thought, shows a striking resemblance to that of the romantic and
copiously inventive old English novelist William Harrison Ainsworth. The
same prodigal vitality, the same intensity of interest, the same
audacious recklessness of probability, the same facility of graphic
characterization, the same exuberance of detail, and above all the same
wild romanticism peculiar to Ainsworth’s novels are perceptible in
Belasco’s plays. The imagination that conceived “Adrea” might well have
conceived “The Lancashire Witches” or the first book of “Jack Sheppard.”
But Belasco is not merely an imitator. He has pursued a course natural
to himself, and he has created much in Drama that is both original and
beautiful. If he had written nothing but “The Girl of the Golden West”
and “The Return of Peter Grimm” his name would live as that of one of
the best dramatists who have arisen in America.
[Written May 18, 1917. Given to me by my father with instruction to
mark it, when setting it for him:
ADD, AND REVISE.
The last phase of his illness began on May 24, and he never saw
this passage after he wrote it as it stands.--J. W.]
THE GOLDKNOPF TRIAL--A UNIQUE DEMONSTRATION.
The trial of the Goldknopf action against Belasco, based on the pretence
that “The Woman” was plagiarized from “Tainted Philanthropy; or, The
Spirit of the Time,” was begun, July 31, 1912, with a hearing before
Commissioner Gilchrist, at
[Illustration:
DAVID BELASCO
From a photograph by Arnold Genthe.
Author’s Collection.
]
the Federal building, New York, and it proceeded, the Hon. George C.
Holt, Justice, presiding, in the United States Circuit Court, on August
5. It was established by sworn testimony that Goldknopf’s “play” was
submitted by him to the Belasco Play Bureau in May, 1910, and that under
date of July 10 Mr. Henry Stillman, the play reader of that bureau,
wrote to Goldknopf a letter in which he said:
“Mr. Belasco has gone away for the summer. I sent your play to him,
two or three days after reading it myself. He returned it to me
to-day. While he was interested in reading it, it is not quite
adapted to his present requirements. Will you please call for the
manuscript?”
Mr. William C. De Mille testified that after the production of “The
Warrens of Virginia,” in January, 1908, he had suggested to Belasco that
if they could “throw up a good heart story against the general
background of political ‘graft’ it would make a good play”; that Belasco
had been favorably impressed by the suggestion, and that a contract had
been entered into between them, in that year, for the writing of such a
play,--several drafts of which, bearing different titles (“The Princess
of the Wire,” “The Machine,” “1035, Plaza,” etc.), were made before the
final one was put into rehearsal. It also was established that Mr. De
Mille had read his play to friends,--among them Professor John Erskine,
of Columbia University,--in 1908.
Belasco corroborated Mr. De Mille; specified that he had instructed Mr.
Stillman “to be kind to aspiring dramatists,” which fact he surmised
“might account for the courteous tone of his note to” Goldknopf;
testified that he had never seen the manuscript of “Tainted
Philanthrophy” prior to July 31, 1912, and had _not even heard of it_
until the suit was started. Then, becoming exasperated, he exclaimed: “I
am heartily sick of being sued by nurserymaids, waiters, and barbers
every time I bring out a new piece, and I should like very much to give
a performance of both these plays before your Honor, in the fall.” To
this startling proposal Judge Holt assented, remarking that he could
doubtless have the merits of the case better placed before him by
witnessing both the plays in representation than by merely reading
them,--adding: “But it will be very expensive for you to have the case
decided in this way, will it not?” To this inquiry Belasco replied:
“Yes, sir; it will cost me about $5,000, but I want to show these
unknown authors, once and for all, that they cannot come into the courts
and attack every successful production I make without submitting their
plays to a comparison that will dispose of their claims very quickly.”
On Belasco engaging himself to provide as good a cast for “Tainted
Philanthropy” as that with which he was presenting “The Woman,” his
proposal was accepted by counsel for Goldknopf.
The comparative performances were given, November 26, at the Belasco
Theatre, in the presence of Judge Holt and invited audiences--Belasco
desiring that as many journalists and members of his own profession as
possible might see for themselves the shameful injustice to which he was
subjected by the charge of plagiarism. “The Woman,” which was then
filling an engagement at the Grand Opera House, New York, was acted
first, beginning at eleven o’clock in the morning. After an interval of
an hour “Tainted Philanthropy” was presented, “exactly as
written,”--manuscript copies of both plays having been submitted to the
court in order to make impossible any dispute on grounds of alleged
changes during representation. The Goldknopf fabrication proved to be
the veriest farrago of impalliable trash,--and, as it was performed with
absolute sincerity by conscientious and capable actors, it became
ludicrous in the extreme. On November 29, Judge Holt rendered his
decision, finding, necessarily, that there is _no plagiarism_ from
“Tainted Philanthropy” in “The Woman.” The chief parts in the former
were cast thus:
_Mrs. Elizabeth Dalton_ Teresa Maxwell-Conover.
_Grace Dalton_ Helen Freeman.
_Theodore Thompson_ Milton Sills.
_Jack Bud_ Joseph Kilgour.
_John Watts_ Albert Bruning.
_Harold Dalton_ Eugene O’Brien.
_A Bellevue Doctor_ Harry C. Browne.
_Attendants_ { James Grove.
{ Mark Powers.
_Servant_ Judith Snaith.
The following letter on the subject of the Goldknopf accusations gave
Belasco much satisfaction:
(_The Society of American Dramatists and Composers to David Belasco._)
“New York, November 27, 1912.
“Dear Mr. Belasco:--
“At a special meeting of the Board of Directors of The Society of
American Dramatists, held immediately after witnessing the
performances of ‘The Woman’ and ‘Tainted Philanthropy,’ a
resolution was passed congratulating and thanking you for your
splendid work in behalf of the dramatists of America in having
called the attention of the public and the press to the efforts of
irresponsible writers and lawyers against authors and producers of
successful plays. We are of the opinion that these ‘strike’ suits,
having no basis or ground for legal action, are a great hardship
to the professional dramatist, and [that] the attention of the Bar
Association should be called to this particular suit as an
aggravated instance of sharp practice and unwarranted attack on the
dramatist’s name and pocket.
“Yours most sincerely,
“CHARLES KLEIN,
“Secretary.”
In his decision Judge Holt said:
“This suit is to restrain the [alleged] infringement of a
copyright.... Both pieces have been presented by experienced and
skilful actors, with excellent scenery and stage appointments. I
have carefully read the manuscripts of each play and have seen the
representations of them.... In my opinion the proof _wholly fails_
to establish the charge. There is _nothing_ to prove, _or to
suggest_, such a comparison of the two plays--that ‘The Woman’ was
copied from ‘Tainted Philanthropy,’ or that any part of the one was
taken from any part of the other. There is _nothing_ to indicate
that either the words, the ideas, or the plot of the defendant’s
play were suggested by complainant’s play. The two plays, in my
opinion, are wholly dissimilar, and I see _no ground whatever_ for
the charge that one infringed the copyright of the other in any
particular. There should be a decree for the defendants, dismissing
the bill on the merits, with costs.”
Final judgment to that effect was entered March 3, 1913. Belasco’s
unique demonstration of the shameful injustice of the Goldknopf charge,
however, cost him $5,700. Writing on the subject of this suit and of
the performances offered in evidence in it, he has said:
“A lawsuit charging plagiarism is an expensive affair, even though
the accused manager may win. Because of this, a compromise is
frequently effected. There are many unscrupulous people who make a
business of submitting impossible manuscripts in order to bring
suits when a successful play is produced. Others keep long lists of
registered titles, with the same idea in mind. Thousands of dollars
have been paid by American authors and producers to end these
blackmail suits, because they are more cheaply settled out of
court. I have never yielded to this swindle,--and I never will....
My actors played ‘Tainted Philanthropy’ beautifully, and I gave it
a dignified setting. It was a case of ‘Look here, upon this
picture, and on this!’ The audience laughed at ‘Tainted
Philanthropy’ until the theatre echoed.... I think it was the first
instance in the history of American jurisprudence when a judge
adjourned court to go to the theatre for the day, as a matter of
legal duty....
“As a result of this wretched, contemptible suit, and others like
it, I discontinued my Play Bureau, which I had established several
years previously to encourage young American dramatic authors. I
have produced more plays by such authors than any two other
managers, and I wanted to help them further. My Bureau cost me from
$15,000 to $20,000 a year to maintain and never paid me a cent,
though sometimes as many as 100 plays were received through it in a
single day. When I realized that instead of helping young authors
it was merely helping blackmailers to attack me as a plagiarist, I
closed it up.”
A DRAMA OF PSYCHOLOGY.--“THE CASE OF BECKY.”
Belasco produced “The Case of Becky” for the first time, October 30,
1911, at the New National Theatre, Washington, D. C., but it was not
until October 1, 1912, that, at the Belasco Theatre, the piece was first
made known in the metropolis. It is a psychological “study,” in dramatic
form, based on a play by Edward Locke, entitled “After Many Years.”
Locke (who entered Belasco’s employment to study stage management and
who for a time acted a small part in “The Music Master”) read his play
to Belasco,--who, perceiving in it possibilities of novel and striking
dramatic effect, at once accepted it, with the understanding that it
should be rewritten under his supervision. That stipulation was agreed
to and partially fulfilled,--the rewriting being (as in a great many
other similar instances) done largely by Belasco. The members of the
company which eventually acted in the drama could conclusively testify
to this fact, since much of that labor was performed in their presence,
at rehearsals.
The name finally bestowed upon this piece is “The Case of Becky.” It is
in three acts, requires only two scenic settings, implicates seven
persons, and is an ingenious and interesting play on a painful but
important subject,--namely, disease or disorder affecting human
personality. The chief characters in it are _Dr. Emerson_, an eminent
physician who employs hypnotism in psychiatry; _Professor Balzamo_, an
itinerant and unscrupulous hypnotist of extraordinary power, and a girl
named _Dorothy_. This girl is the victim of a dreadful metempsychosis
and is often mysteriously changed from her normal, lovable
personality,--in which she is sweet-tempered, affectionate, gentle, and
refined,--into a common, mischievous, vindictive hoyden who is
designated as _Becky_. _Dr. Emerson_ is laboring to reëstablish her
permanently in her normal consciousness by means of hypnotism,--an
object which, ultimately, he attains. It is incidentally revealed that
many years earlier _Balzamo_, exercising his hypnotic faculty, has
compelled _Emerson’s_ wife to leave her husband and travel with him, as
a subject for use in brutal and degrading exhibitions of hypnotism.
While in that helpless bondage the daughter, _Dorothy_, has been born
(her psychic disorder being attributable to the prenatal effect of abuse
of her mother) and the miserable woman has died. Chance has installed
_Dorothy_ as a patient in the home of her father, who, while ministering
to her in affliction, does not know her
[Illustration: FRANCES STARR AS _BECKY_, IN “THE CASE OF BECKY”
Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.
]
as his child. _Balzamo_, learning the whereabouts of the girl and
desirous of recovering custody of her, in order to utilize her as a
subject, visits _Emerson_ and seeks to reëstablish his control over
_Dorothy_, begun when she was a little child. The _Doctor_ is led to
suspect the originative facts in “the case of _Becky_” which are unknown
to him; a conflict of wits and powers ensues between him and _Balzamo_;
the latter is, by a trick, subdued and thrown into hypnosis,--in which
state he is compelled to confess the truth and is then deprived of his
hypnotic power.
Belasco, writing about this singular play--in which he presented Miss
Frances Starr for more than two years--has recorded:
“I had begun work on the manuscript of my play for Miss Starr
called ‘Jennie’ when I received a letter from Mr. Locke about
‘After Many Years.’... It was rewritten and renamed ‘The Case of
Becky,’ and in the writing of it we were guided by Dr. Morton
Prince’s ‘The Dissociation of a Personality.’ I felt that in a
hypnotic study of this kind I must not resort to the broad
theatricalism of ‘Trilby’ or ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.’ I was
dealing with a dual personality, and I gave Miss Starr the arduous
task of slipping from innocence into viciousness, in the presence
of an audience, without resorting to any outward trickery. Those
hypnotic scenes were written while the company was rehearsing on
the stage.”
It is interesting to note that the method prescribed for Miss Starr by
Belasco, in acting _Dorothy_ and _Becky_, is the same which Henry Irving
declared should be employed in acting _Jekyll_ and _Hyde_: Irving bought
the English dramatic rights to Stevenson’s story about that dual
character, intending to put his theory about impersonating it into
practice, but he never did so.--This was the cast of “The Case of
Becky”:
_Dr. Emerson_ Albert Bruning.
_Dr. Peters_ Harry C. Browne.
_John Arnold_ Eugene O’Brien.
_Professor Balzamo_ Charles Dalton.
_Thomas_ John P. Brawn.
_Miss Pettingill_ Mary Lawton.
_Dorothy_ (“_Becky_”) Frances Starr.
“I was as much surprised as I was delighted,” said Belasco, “by the
popular success of ‘The Case of Becky,’--which was entirely unexpected.”
His delight was considerably moderated by the prompt appearance of a
couple of discontented playwrighting amateurs, alleging plagiarism.
Their names were Amelia Bachman and George L. McKay; they asserted that
“The Case of Becky” was taken from a drama which they had written,
called “Etelle”; their suit was brought in June, 1912; it was tried,
May 13 and 14, 1913, before Judge Julius M. Mayer, in the United States
Circuit Court, and it was decided against them, “upon the merits,” on
July 9. That decision was appealed, the appeal was argued before the
United States Circuit Court of Appeals, April 6, 1914, and decision in
favor of Belasco was affirmed. In rendering the original decision Judge
Mayer said:
“...The writing of the play by Mr. Locke was the natural outcome
of his interest in themes dealing with hypnotic influence and
multiple personality, and when he was attracted by ‘How One Girl
Lived Four Lives,’ by John Corbin, and [by] Dr. Prince’s book, he
was at work on ‘The Climax,’ a play in which hypnotism or mental
suggestion is the predominant feature.
“I am also satisfied, beyond any doubt, that Mr. Belasco never saw,
read or heard of ‘Etelle’ prior to his acceptance of Locke’s play
and Miss Bachman testified that her play had its foundation in the
idea suggested by John Corbin’s article. That being so, and the
facts found by me being as stated, it follows that complainants
have no case. ‘The Case of Becky’ is, in substantial respects,
different from ‘Etelle.’... It is to be expected that two
playwrights, working independently from a common source, may
develop similarities in their plots, but ‘The Case of Becky’
displays the skill of the experienced playwright in a number of
important particulars and details not found in ‘Etelle.’”
“A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL.”
“_Children of an idle brain,_
_Begot of nothing but vain fantasy._”
“A Good Little Devil” is a fairy fantasy, written in French by Mme.
Edmond Rostand (using the pen name of Rosamonde Gerard) and her son
Maurice Rostand. It was adapted to the American Stage by Austin Strong,
and Belasco produced it, for the first time in this country, December
10, 1912, at the Broad Street Theatre, Philadelphia: January 8, 1913, it
was acted in New York, at the Republic Theatre. An immense amount of
space, first and last, has been filled in the American newspaper press
with sentimental rhapsody about such fabrications as “Peter Pan,” “The
Blue Bird,” and “A Good Little Devil.” They are well enough in their
way, but they possess nothing of authentic importance, whether literary,
poetic, or dramatic, and the success gained by them is due solely to the
interest of children and of those who enjoy the amusements of their
children: “The sports of childhood satisfy the child.”
In “A Good Little Devil” experiences are depicted of a Scotch orphan, a
lad named _Charles MacLance_, who is abused by his aunt, a witch, _Mrs.
MacMiche_; comforted and befriended by fairies; loved by a little blind
girl named _Juliet_, from whom he is separated; saved from evil beings
(_Old Nick, Sr._, and _Old Nick, Jr._); and raised to high social rank,
where he forgets the comrades of his boyhood and is about to wed
unworthily, when he returns to the home of his aunt. There he is visited
by the spirit of his youth; his better nature and his memory of olden
times and friends are awakened, and he returns to the arms of his early
love--whose sight has been restored by the fairies--declaring his
intention to live the life of the affections.
The stage accoutrement in which Belasco presented this fabric of
whimsical extravagance was so beautiful, so full of the poetic feeling
and allurement conspicuously absent from the piece itself, that it
gained and for some time held, and deserved to hold, popular favor: it
was played at the Republic Theatre until May 3, 1913,--152 consecutive
performances being given.
“A Good Little Devil” was presented with the following cast:
_A Poet_ Ernest Lawford.
_Betsy_ Iva Merlin.
_Mrs. MacMiche_ William Norris.
_Charles MacLance_, a Good Little Devil Ernest Truex.
_Old Nick, Sr._ Edward Connelly.
_Old Nick, Jr._ Etienne Girardot.
_Juliet_ Mary Pickford.
_Marian_ Laura Grant.
_Queen Mab_ Wilda Bennett.
_Viviane_ Edna Griffin.
_Morganie_ Lillian Gish.
_Titania_ Claire Burke.
_Dewbright_ Reggie Wallace.
_Thought-From-Afar_ Georgia Mae Fursman.
_Jock_ Louis Esposit.
_Wally_ Gerard Gardner.
_Mac_ Adrian Morgan.
_Tam_ Jerome Fernandez.
_Sandy_ Edward Dolly.
_Allan_ Norman Taurog.
_Neil_ Harold Meyer.
_Jamie_ Carlton Riggs.
_Davie_ David Ross.
_Robert_ Roland Wallace.
_John_ Charles Castner.
_Angus_ Lauren Pullman.
_Huggermunk_ Pat Walshe.
_Muggerhunk_ Sam Goldstein.
_The Solicitor from London_ Dennis Cleugh.
_The Doctor from Inverary_ Joseph A. Wilkes.
_The Lawyer from Oban_ Robert Vivian.
_Rab, the dog_ Arthur Hill.
“THE SECRET.”
“_A secret and villanous contriver._”
“When I produced ‘The Secret,’” writes Belasco, in a biographical note
made for me, “I was told by most of the writers for the [news]papers,
and by many friends, that the principal character in it, _Gabrielle_, is
untrue to life--is _impossible_! Well, all I have to say is:--It is
_not_ impossible. She is very exceptional, no doubt, and morbid; but she
is _true_ to life and I know it, because I have seen and known and had
to deal with exactly such women as _Gabrielle_. They are unpleasant, of
course,--but they are real, a part of the Comedy of Human Life that I
have aimed to show in the Theatre, and that is the reason I produced
‘The Secret,’ notwithstanding much advice against it. I did not expect
financial success.”
When Belasco first heard of “The Secret,”--which, written in French by
Henri Bernstein, was originally produced, in March, 1913, at the Théâtre
Bouffes-Parisiens, in Paris, with Mme. Simone (Mme. Simone Le Bargy) in
the principal part,--Charles Frohman had just relinquished the right of
producing it in America. He was so much impressed by the published
accounts of the plot and of the performance that he went to Paris
(sailing, June 18, 1913, on the Campania, _via_ Fishguard) to see it,
and there, after witnessing several representations of the drama, he
personally arranged with its author for an American production.
“Bernstein,” he writes, “wanted me to have Mme. Simone act _Gabrielle_
in America; but, although she is a fine actress and gave a good
performance, she did not, in my opinion, make the part credible. I could
see nobody for it but little Miss Starr--and Bernstein waived his wishes
and left everything to me. I knew from the first that it was impossible
to make money with the piece in America; but I was determined to do it,
and I did; and I am content, though it cost me $57,000 in order to show
the American public a perfect piece of modern play writing and (as I
think) acting.”
The qualities in Bernstein’s “The Secret” which won Belasco’s profound
admiration are its technical constructive deftness and its cumulative
theatrical effectiveness. While repellent in subject, it is, for stage
purposes, extraordinarily well made. The principal character in it is
_Gabrielle Jannelot_, a wife, young, accomplished, beautiful, admired,
and loved,--apparently a paragon of feminine excellence; in fact, a
personification of malignant jealousy and malicious envy. This charming
female, blessed with everything that should make her contented, cannot
endure the sight of the happiness of others and, while cloaking her
wickedness with an assumption of generosity, gentleness, and goodness
which for years completely deceives her husband and her
[Illustration:
Photograph by the Misses Selby. Author’s Collection.
BELASCO, ABOUT 1914]
friends, she industriously spreads misery all about her. She has
contrived to establish bitter estrangement between her devoted husband
and a dearly loved and loving sister; and, ascertaining that another
sister-in-law, _Henriette Durand_,--who is her closest friend and who
has confided in her,--is beloved by a high-principled, jealous young
man, _Denis Le Guern_, she schemes to wreck their prospective happiness.
The fair _Henriette_ (whose amorous receptivity appears to be
comprehensive) has secretly been the mistress of a profligate man of
fashion, named _Charlie Ponta-Tulli_, to whom she would have been wedded
had not _Gabrielle_ surreptitiously suppressed missives passing between
them and thus caused their intrigue to be ended. Aware of _Guern’s_
jealous disposition and strong preference for early vegetables,
_Gabrielle_ counsels _Henriette_, when he shall formally propose
marriage to her, to make a full confession to him of her relation to
_Ponta-Tulli_,--being confident that _Guern_ will then withdraw his
proposal. This advice _Henriette_ promises to act upon; but, through
fear, she fails to do so, and presently she and _Guern_ are wedded and
for a while dwell in bliss. _Gabrielle_, unable to endure the spectacle
of their felicity, plans to destroy it by contriving to have all the
persons implicated in the action assembled as guests in a country
residence, thus bringing the new-wedded couple into close contact with
the ardent though alienated _Ponta-Tulli_. There the former lover
protests to the distressed _Henriette_ his unchangeable passion, and
there they are surprised together by the suspicious _Guern_ in the
moment when _Tulli_ is demanding her reasons for having broken with him.
A violent wrangle ensues, during which _Gabrielle_, under pretence of
attempting reconciliation, neatly manages to make known the former
illicit relation of _Tulli_ and _Henriette_ to the latter’s husband. In
the passages of bitter recrimination which follow _Tulli_ at last
establishes the fact that he had not wilfully abandoned the charming
_Henriette_, and then (with remarkable dramatic dexterity) the spiteful
treachery of _Gabrielle_ is little by little elicited and “the secret”
of that vicious and contemptible little mischief-maker is finally
revealed when she is forced to confess to her wretched husband all her
years of wicked intrigue and perverse malice. There, dramatically, the
play ends,--where so much of human experience ends, in heartbroken
misery and despair. A superfluous “tag” is, however, provided in which
_Jannelot_ first induces _Guern_ to forgive _Henriette_ and then himself
casts the mantle of indulgence over the sins of _Gabrielle_--the fervid
_Ponta-Tulli_ being left to recede into the dim perspective of Paris,
there to comfort himself as best he may.
The performance of this painful play was, in the main, excellent, Miss
Marguerite Leslie acting the errant _Henriette_ with deep and
sympathetic feeling, and Miss Starr, as _Gabrielle_, giving perhaps the
most completely finished and artistic performance of her
career,--because definite and intelligible in ideal, sustained, fluent,
precise in expression, and entirely plausible in effect. Mr. Frank
Reicher appeared as the excitable and jealous _Guern_ and provided a
significant exhibition of the radically artificial, insincere, and
finical method so common to the Continental European Stage and so much
admired and commended in America for the reason, apparently, that it is
European.--“The Secret” was exquisitely set upon the stage, in scenery
designed by Ernest Gros, and was presented by Belasco with the following
cast: