toward the attainment of his ambitious object, which was the control of
a high-class theatre in New York; but he was yet to meet with
disappointments and hardships and to undergo many trials. The venomous
practice of stigmatizing him as a plagiarist, which has long prevailed,
began almost coincidentally with the success of “May Blossom.” It should
here be mentioned again that this play was transformed by him from an
earlier play of his, called “Sylvia’s Lovers,” written about 187(5?),
and first produced, in that year, at Piper’s Opera House, in Virginia
City. When he had prepared it in a new and definitive form for
presentment at the Madison Square Theatre he showed the manuscript to
Howard P. Taylor, a writer for “The New York Dramatic Mirror,” at that
time edited by Harrison Grey Fiske, and consulted him as a reputed
expert relative to historical details of the Civil War. That person had
offered to the managers of the Madison Square Theatre a play called
“Caprice” (produced August 11, 1884, at the New Park Theatre, New York,
by John A. Stevens and the author, in partnership--Minnie Maddern, now
Mrs. Fiske, being the star), which those managers rejected. After “May
Blossom” had been successfully presented, Taylor accused Belasco of
having caused the Mallory brothers to reject “Caprice,” and also with
having stolen ideas from that play,--which, as stage manager and adviser
of the Madison Square Theatre, he had seen,--and used them in “May
Blossom.” Belasco urgently requested him to make the accusation in
court, but Taylor, though he long and maliciously persisted in
publishing his defamatory charge, would never bring the matter to a
legal test. On the occasion of the 1000th performance of “May Blossom,”
at a dinner given by Daniel Frohman and “Harry” Miner, in celebration of
the event, Harrison Grey Fiske, who, at his own request, had been
included among the speakers, stated that he felt he had a duty to
perform in tendering an apology for the unfounded accusations repeatedly
made by Taylor, in “The Dramatic Mirror,” impugning the integrity of
Belasco as an author and a man.
This was the original cast of “May Blossom,” at the Madison Square:
_May Blossom_ Georgia Cayvan.
_Tom Blossom_ Benjamin Maginley.
_Steve Harland_ Joseph Wheelock, Sr.
_Richard Ashcroft_ Walden Ramsay.
_Unca Bartlett_ William J. LeMoyne.
_Owen Hathaway_ Thomas Whiffen.
_Captain Drummond_ Henry Talbot.
_Yank_ Master Tommy Russell.
_Lulu_ Little Belle.
_Deborah_ Mrs. Thomas Whiffen.
_Hank Bluster_ King Hedley.
_Hiram Sloane_ Joseph Frankau.
_Epe_ I. N. Long.
_Millie_ Etta Hawkins.
_Little May_ Carrie Elbert.
Whiffen was succeeded, as _Hathaway_, in this company, by De Wolf
Hopper,--one of the few genuine and intrinsically humorous comedians on
our Stage to-day.
FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND.--“CALLED BACK.”
In the summer of 1884 Belasco was sent to London by his employers in
order that he might see a performance of a play entitled “Called
Back,”--founded on the novel of that name by Hugh Conway,--which those
managers had bought for representation in America. He sailed aboard the
Alaska, on July 5, making his first voyage across the Atlantic, and it
was then our personal acquaintance began,--as I chanced to be a
passenger aboard the same ship. He was not, I remember, a good sailor,
and for several days he remained in seclusion, but before the end of the
voyage we met and had a pleasant conversation, and I found him then, as
I have found him since, a singularly original and interesting character
and a genial companion. He said that his stay in England would be brief,
as indeed it was, for having, on arrival in London, witnessed a
representation of “Called Back,” then being acted at the Haymarket
Theatre by Beerbohm-Tree and his dramatic company, he came back to New
York on the return voyage of the same ship that had carried him over.
His task,--which was duly performed,--was to prepare “Called Back” for
presentment at the Madison Square, but as “May Blossom” continued to be
prosperous there it was decided not to interrupt its successful run, but
to produce the new play at another theatre, and that play, accordingly,
was brought out, September 1, 1884, under Belasco’s direction, at the
Fifth Avenue Theatre, then managed by John Stetson,--the leading parts
in it being acted by Robert B. Mantell and Jessie Millward. The work
done by Belasco in connection with “Called Back” was, practically, the
last that he ever did for the Mallorys. In London the play had been so
fashioned that _Paolo Macari_ was the star part, acted by
Beerbohm-Tree. Belasco’s task, as adapter, was that of devising minor
modifications rendering the play better suited to presentment before
American audiences: it was desired that the part of _Gilbert Vaughan_
should be made as conspicuous as possible,--the Mallorys being intent to
make the most of the popularity of Mantell, who had been brilliantly
successful in “The Romany Rye” and “Fedora” and had become a favorite
with the public. _Macari_, however, remained the principal character in
the drama, and William J. Ferguson, by whom it was exceedingly well
played, maintained it in its natural place.
CHANGES AT THE MADISON SQUARE.
Material changes, meanwhile, had occurred or were then in progress in
the management of the Madison Square. Soon after Steele Mackaye left
that house Belasco’s friend Gustave Frohman, one of its attaches, had
followed him, to join in management of the new Lyceum. Charles Frohman,
who had been employed, at a salary of $100 a week, as a booking agent,
to send on tours of the country all plays that the Mallorys had
successfully produced, had withdrawn, or was about to do so, to devote
himself to ventures of his own. Daniel
[Illustration:
Photograph by Underwood & Underwood. Copyright.
Author’s Collection.
CHARLES FROHMAN]
[Illustration:
Photograph by Moffet.
Belasco’s Collection.
DANIEL FROHMAN]
Frohman, the business manager, was dissatisfied with his situation and
prospects, and his retirement soon occurred. The Mallorys were forming a
business alliance with Albert Marshall Palmer (1838-1905), when Belasco
returned from his trip to England in their interests, and on August 29,
1884, public announcement was made that Palmer had become a partner in
their enterprise. Palmer was a dictatorial person, and Belasco, much
more experienced in technical aspects of theatrical matters and far
abler as a stage director, came almost immediately into conflict with
him. The particular incident which precipitated the rupture was trivial.
At a rehearsal of “Called Back” which Belasco was conducting Palmer made
his appearance, accompanied by Boucicault. Their presence disconcerted
the actors and Belasco (as he told me) requested them to retire,
explaining the reason for that request. Boucicault, appreciating the
situation, politely said, “All right, my boy, I’ll go.” Palmer, on the
contrary, brusquely exclaimed, “I’ll be damned if you will,” and added
the assurance that he was a partner in the business and intended to be
present at all rehearsals. To this Belasco replied, “Mr. Palmer, the
actors can’t rehearse with you and Mr. Boucicault here, and if you don’t
go I shall dismiss the rehearsal,”--whereupon Palmer went. This
encounter and Palmer’s general manner satisfied Belasco that he could
not long retain his office, and although Palmer subsequently requested
him to remain at the Madison Square (after “Called Back” was safely
launched at the Fifth Avenue) and continue to rehearse the company
there, benevolently proposing that he would himself, in each case,
supervise the last two or three full rehearsals (an old theatrical
practice, whereby one man does all the work and another comes in at the
last moment to take all the credit for it, while actually doing almost
nothing), he insisted on obtaining, and did obtain, acceptance of his
resignation. The Mallorys themselves were the next to leave the Madison
Square, and on March 13, 1885, Palmer became sole manager of that
theatre.
A LABORIOUS INTERLUDE.--LYCEUM THEATRE.
After leaving that house Belasco for about two years worked as a
free-lance in the theatrical arena. One plan which he seriously
entertained and strove to accomplish in that interval was the formation
of a theatrical company, headed by himself as a star, to traverse the
country, presenting “Hamlet,” or a new, sympathetic, popular drama of
his own fabrication,--possibly to present both those plays,--in which he
might, perhaps, make a personal hit
[Illustration: DAVID BELASCO AS _HAMLET_
“_Since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is ’t to leave
betimes?_”
--Act V. sc. 2
Photograph by Houseworth, San Francisco.
Original loaned by Mrs. David Belasco.]
and become as prosperous as certain other actors then were,--notably
Jefferson, as _Rip Van Winkle_, and John S. Clarke, as _Major de Boots_.
“I was keen to _act_ then,” he said to me, “and sometimes now I wish I
had stuck to it.” With him as with most other persons, however, the path
that he should tread was ordained by the iron force of circumstance. He
did whatever work he could find to do, and his occupations were various.
He trained members of an amateur society, in Brooklyn, called “The
Amaranth.” He revised a play called “Caught in a Corner” (it had
previously been tinkered by Clay M. Greene, and it was produced in New
York, Belasco’s arrangement, November 1, 1887, at the Fourteenth Street
Theatre) for Maurice Bertram Curtis, an actor now dimly remembered for
his performance in “Sam’l of Posen,” with whom he had, in 1878, been
affiliated as a member of the “Frayne Troupe,” travelling in California.
More particularly he became associated with Steele Mackaye, in the
Lyceum. That theatre was situated in Fourth Avenue, next to the old
Academy of Design, which stood on the northwest corner of Twenty-third
Street and Fourth Avenue. It was built, on ground leased from William Y.
Mortimer, by Philip G. Hubert, Charles W. Clinton, and Michael Brennan,
and it was opened by Mackaye on April 6, 1885, with a play called
“Dakolar,” which he had “conveyed” from “Le Maître de Forges,” by
Georges Ohnet. The chief parts were played by Robert B. Mantell, John
Mason, Viola Allen, and Sadie Martinot. Belasco’s position at the Lyceum
was that of assistant stage manager and general helper for Mackaye,
whose signal ability he appreciated and admired. He was engaged at a
salary of $150 a week,--which, however, he never received,--was
installed in a private office, and, for a short time, was happy because
deluded as to what he was about to accomplish. In his “Story,” referring
to the play of “Dakolar,” he relates that, prior to its production,
Mackaye read it, at his home, to a group of critical persons, of whom I
was one, in order to obtain their opinions of it. As to one point his
memory is at fault: I was not present. Mackaye (who was a friend of
mine) did read “Dakolar” to me, but that reading occurred privately, in
his office. We sat, I remember, at a large table, he at an end of it and
I at the right-hand side. He was a highly excitable person, and as his
reading progressed he became wildly enthusiastic, hitching his chair
nearer and nearer to me, with much extravagant gesticulation, so that I
was impelled to hitch my chair further and further away from him, till
the two of us actually made an almost complete circuit of the table
before the reading was finished! It was a tiresome experience. At the
critical symposium which Belasco recalls various opinions were expressed
by Mackaye’s auditors, that of Belasco being withheld until Mackaye
insisted on its expression, when it was made known as strongly adverse
to the play. Thereafter a coolness ensued between the manager and his
assistant. Other causes of friction occurred, and presently Mackaye
remarked to him, “There is room for only _one_ genius in this theatre,
and _one_ of us ought to resign.” This intimation caused Belasco to
retire, and so ended that episode.
Mackaye, who, in his youth, had studied in Paris, under the direction of
François Delsarte (1811-1871),--an eccentric person, of whom and his
peculiar character, ways, and notions the reader can pleasantly obtain
an instructive glimpse from that delightful book, by Mme.
Hagermann-Lindencrone, “In the Courts of Memory,”--had, from the time of
his advent in New York theatrical life (1872), sedulously striven to
promote the tuition of histrionic aspirants according to the tenets of
that instructor; and in opening the Lyceum Theatre he started, in
connection with it, a School of Acting. In this Franklin Sargent at
first co-labored with him, but after a short time withdrew, to carry on
a school of his own. When Belasco left Mackaye and the Lyceum he joined
Sargent, and as his extraordinary talent for stage direction had made
him popular with Mackaye’s pupils, the larger part of them followed him
to Sargent’s school,--to the lively disgust of Mackaye.
“VALERIE” AT WALLACK’S.
An important incident of this fluctuant period was Belasco’s employment
by Lester Wallack (1820-1888), with whom he had become so pleasantly
acquainted in 1882, at the time of the New York production of his “La
Belle Russe.” Wallack, one of the best actors who have adorned our Stage
and for about thirty years the leading theatrical manager in America,
was then drawing toward the close of his career and the end of his life.
His strength was failing, his audience dropping away. He thought he
might perhaps reanimate public interest in his theatre,--where he still
maintained a fine company,--if he should appear in a new character. “I
think I have one more ’study’ in me,” he told Belasco, “and I should
like you to try to make for me a play with good parts for Mr. Bellew and
Miss Robe [Kyrle Bellew, Annie Robe, John Gilbert, Mme. Ponisi, Sophie
Eyre, and Henry Edwards were among the members of his
[Illustration:
Photograph by Sarony. Courtesy of Percy Mackaye, Esq.
JAMES STEELE MACKAYE
About 1886]
company at the time], and with a character for me similar to _Henry
Beauclerc_, in ’Diplomacy.’ Another ’Diplomacy’ would carry us over.”
Belasco had no original play in mind at that time and Wallack had no
definite suggestion to make, beyond his wish for something similar to
“Diplomacy,”--which he had produced, for the first time in America and
with great success, at Wallack’s Theatre (the Thirteenth Street house),
April 1, 1878. The result of several long conferences between manager
and playwright was, accordingly, that a new version of Sardou’s
“Fernande” (which had been first produced in America, at the Dalys’
Fifth Avenue Theatre, June 7, 1870, with Daniel H. Harkins, George
Clarke, and Agnes Ethel in the chief parts) would be the most auspicious
venture. On this play, accordingly, Belasco began to work. “I had no
home in those days,” he told me, “except a small hall bedroom at No. 43
West Twenty-fourth Street, and no proper place in which to write. I used
to do much of my work in the public writing-room of the old Fifth Avenue
Hotel [which stood at the northwest corner of Twenty-third Street and
Broadway], but I wanted to be near Wallack, because frequent
consultations were necessary, in order that I might meet his
requirements and fit his company, and so I asked him if he couldn’t
give me some place in his theatre where I might work conveniently. He
very courteously and greatly to my delight opened his own library to me,
in his house ’round the corner [Wallack dwelt in a house on the north
side of West Thirtieth Street, No. 13, adjoining his theatre], and there
I made my version of ’Fernande’ and, practically, lived till it was
done.”
That version, called “Valerie,” was completed within four weeks, and it
was produced at Wallack’s Theatre on February 15, 1886. Wallack, instead
of buying the refashioned play outright from Belasco, as was the usual
custom of the time, agreed to pay him the handsome royalty of $250 a
week, as long as it held his stage,--the adapter, moreover, being
privileged to present it outside of New York. “Valerie,” while
serviceable in a theatrical way, is not a thoroughly good play, and it
is distinctly inferior to the earlier version, by Hart Jackson,--as,
indeed, could scarcely be otherwise, since Belasco had worked under the
disadvantage of being required to make a new play on the basis of an old
one, then still current, in which the best possible use of the material
implicated had already been made. In the building of “Valerie,” which is
comprised in three acts, reliance was placed in whatever of freshness
could be imparted to the method of treatment,--and that was not much.
The scene of the action was shifted from France to England. The
foreground of the life of _Fernande_, appearing under the name of
_Valerie_, was omitted. The names of the other characters were also
changed. The First Act deals largely with preparation and is devoted
mainly to a somewhat preposterous scene in which the evil agent of the
drama, _Helena_, allures her lover, _Sir Everard Challoner_, by a false
confession that she is tired of him, to make a true confession not only
that he is tired of her but that he loves another woman. _Challoner_ is
represented as of a noble English family and of a singularly ingenuous
mind. He states that the woman whom he loves is a young stranger whom he
has casually encountered, leaning against a post, in the street, in a
condition of faintness, and the deceptive _Helena_ thereupon proffers
her services to discover the unknown object of his sudden affection. She
has rescued a vagrant female from the streets, and it turns out that
this waif is the interesting stranger for whom they are to seek. In the
Second Act the malignant _Helena_ exults in the marriage of her former
lover to a woman whom she believes to be a demirep. That is to
consummate her revenge for having been discarded by _Challoner_, but
when she is about to overwhelm him with the declaration that he has
wedded an outcast, _Walter_, the good genius of the story, forcibly
compels her sudden retirement behind a velvet curtain. This is the
“strong situation” of the drama. In the Third Act this evil woman’s
scheme of vengeance, which she endeavors to push to a completion, is
finally discomfited by the vindication of the girl, _Valerie_, and a
happy climax crowns an incredible fiction.
The play is long and portions of it are tedious. The dialogue is
generally commonplace. Two strikingly original lines, however, attracted
my attention: “Love at first sight, you know,” and “this is the happiest
day of my life!” The postulate illustrated is kindred with that of
Congreve’s well-known (and almost invariably misquoted) couplet,
“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
That theme may, perhaps, be interesting. It seemed to interest auditors
at Wallack’s, but the manifestations of approval were probably due to
the manner in which the play was acted rather than to its intrinsic
appeal. Annie Robe appeared as _Valerie_. There was in the personality
of that actress a certain muscular vigor incompatible with the ideal of
a sweet, fragile girl, intended in the original scheme of Sardou and
suggested in its paraphrase, but Miss Robe’s performance evinced a fine,
woman-like intuition and it was suffused with touching sincerity.
Wallack, as _Walter_, had to personate a character which, for him, was
of trifling moment,--the poised, self-possessed man of the world, at
home amid difficulties and always master of the situation. The kindness
of his nature shone through his embodiment and the grace of his action
made it delightful. In Wallack’s acting there was that delicate
suggestion of great knowledge of human nature and of the world which can
be expressed only by those who have had ample experience of life, and
also there was the denotement of a nature which had been sweetened, not
embittered, by the trials through which it had passed. Kyrle Bellew
acted with simple dignity in situations which sometimes were of such an
irrational character as might well perplex or baffle the art of the most
accomplished comedian. His performance was much and justly admired.
Sophie Eyre, who assumed the affronted female, pursued her baleful
purpose with surpassing energy, much breadth of treatment, and
frequently fine theatrical effect: but her performance excelled in force
rather than in refinement.
This is the complete cast of the play as acted at Wallack’s Theatre:
_Sir Everard Challoner_ Kyrle Bellew.
_Mons. Xavier_ Henry Edwards.
_Hon. George Alfred Bettly_ Ivan Shirley.
_Dr. Rushton_ Daniel Leeson.
_Roberts_ John Germon.
_Jameson_ S. Du Bois.
_Helena Malcom_ Sophie Eyre.
_Valerie de Brian_ Annie Robe.
_Lady Bettly_ Mme. Ponisi.
_Julia Trevillian_ Helen Russell.
_Agnes_ Kate Bartlett.
_Walter Trevillian_ Lester Wallack.
Such merit as “Valerie” contains was derived from the French original.
It is a piece of journeyman work, undertaken as such, and as such well
enough done. Wallack seems to have been conscious of its defects: in a
letter of his to Belasco, which the latter has carefully preserved, he
says:
(_Lester Wallack to David Belasco._)
“13, West Thirtieth Street,
“[New York] December 31, [1885.]
“Dear Mr. Belasco:--
“We must, have another ’go’ at the last act.
“The dialogues are infinitely too long, and we have missed the
opportunity for a strong scene for Mr. Bellew and Miss Robe.
“I rehearsed the two first acts yesterday.
“Yours always,
“LESTER WALLACK.”
[Illustration:
From an old photograph.
The Albert Davis Collection.
ANNIE ROBE
Photograph by Sarony.
Belasco’s Collection.
KYRLE BELLEW
About 1886, when they acted in Belasco’s “Valerie”]
Handsome scenes were provided for the play at Wallack’s and it received
some measure of public support, holding the stage till March 14.
Wallack’s first appearance in it was his first appearance in the season
of 1885-’86, and _Walter_ was the last new part that he ever acted.
Belasco had great respect for Wallack, recognizing and appreciating his
wonderful powers as an actor and his extraordinary achievements as a
manager. Wallack, while Belasco was writing “Valerie,” offered him
employment, as stage manager, to produce it, but Belasco wisely
declined. “I knew,” he said, “that Wallack would not be able to sit by
and let me direct his company--much less himself--and so I thanked him
but declined, telling him, ’Mr. Wallack, I should be afraid of Mr.
Bellew and Miss Robe, and of _you_!’ When he asked me to ’come in from
time to time and watch the rehearsals,’ of course I agreed, and I did go
in and made a few suggestions to him. I could have remained at
Wallack’s, in charge of the stage, but I saw my doing so would lead to
nothing, so I refused an offer he made me and kept myself free. I
treasure the memory of Wallack and my association with him. He was one
of the big figures of our Stage, very pathetic, to me, in his last
efforts to stem the tide running against him, and he was the most
courteous gentleman I ever met in the Theatre.”
MORE ERRORS CORRECTED.
Belasco’s carelessness of statement is again illustrated in a remark
made in his “Story” regarding contemporary conditions when Wallack’s
career was ending: “New men,” he writes, “were on the horizon, public
taste was changing, and lighter forms of entertainment were coming into
vogue. Even Daly was meeting reverses and the Madison Square was going
downhill.” It is regrettable that such an influential manager should
fall into such errors and unintentionally contribute to the generally
prevailing ignorance of theatrical history. I am again prompted to quote
the old sage, Dr. Johnson, who remarks that “To be ignorant is painful,
but it is dangerous to quiet our uneasiness by the delusive opiate of
hasty persuasion.” At the time of which Belasco speaks (1886-’87) Daly
was, in fact, on the crest of the wave of success, with “A Night Off,”
“Nancy & Co.,” and revivals of the Old Comedies. In May, 1886, he took
his company on a notably successful tour which, after nine weeks in
London, embraced Paris, Hamburg, Berlin, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Liverpool,
and Dublin, and soon after his return to America he produced, in New
[Illustration:
Photograph by Falk. Courtesy of Arthur Wallack, Esq.
LESTER WALLACK
Taken at about the time he produced Belasco’s “Valerie,”--1886
(The last picture ever made of Wallack)]
York, for the first time in our country, “The Taming of the Shrew,” in
which Ada Rehan gave her matchless personation of _Katharine_ and which
was the most successful of all his ventures in the second half of his
great career, ending in 1899. The Madison Square, so far from “going
downhill,” was just entering on a period of notable prosperity and
influence, with Jones’s “Saints and Sinners,” Mansfield’s presentment of
“Prince Karl,” which ran from May 3 to August 14, 1886; “Jim the
Penman,” “Heart of Hearts,” etc. Palmer remained in management of the
Madison Square till September, 1891.
AN EXTRAORDINARY COMPANY AND A SUMMER SEASON IN SAN FRANCISCO.