VOLUME TWO.

_In Photogravure._

David Belasco Frontispiece

PAGE

David Belasco, About 1885 16

David Warfield 26

Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Du Barry_ 42

David Belasco 60

Blanche Bates as _Yo-San_, in “The Darling of the Gods” 76

David Belasco, About 1889-’90 90

David Belasco 136

Frances Starr 224

Augusta Belasco, Mrs. William Elliott 298

Reina Belasco, Mrs. Morris Gest 300

David Belasco 320

David Belasco 336

David Belasco 418

_In Halftone._

Blanche Bates as _Cigarette_, in “Under Two Flags” 2

A Scene from Belasco’s “Under Two Flags” 6

David Warfield as _Simon Levi_, in “The Auctioneer” 12

Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Du Barry_ 34

Charles A. Stevenson as _King Louis the Fifteenth_, in Belasco’s “Du Barry” 40

Belasco, About 1902 46

Belasco’s “Studio” in the First Belasco Theatre 54

Belasco in His Studio at the First Belasco Theatre 58

A Scene from “The Darling of the Gods” 72

George Arliss as _Zakkuri, the Minister of War_, in “The Darling of the Gods” 82

Henrietta Crosman as _Mistress Kitty Bellairs_, in “Sweet Kitty Bellairs” 100

David Warfield as _Herr Anton von Barwig_, in “The Music Master” 114

Scene in Front of the Belasco Theatre, Pittsburgh, Pa. 126

Belasco’s “Adrea” Curtains 150

The Members of the Theatrical Syndicate 168

The Crowning Room,--Belasco’s Production of “Adrea” 178

Mrs. Leslie Carter as _Adrea_, in the Tragedy of that Name 186

Henry Irving in the Last Year of His Life--1904-’05 194

Blanche Bates as _The Girl_, in “The Girl of the Golden West” 198

To David Belasco 212

In Remembrance 214

The Opera of “The Girl of the Golden West”--A Souvenir, to Belasco 218

Frances Starr as _Jaunita_, in “The Rose of the Rancho” 232

Belasco in His Workshop 238

Switchboard of the Second Belasco Theatre, New York 246

David Warfield as _Wes’ Bigelow_, in “A Grand Army Man” 254

Charlotte Walker as _Agatha Warren_, in “The Warrens of Virginia” 264

David Belasco and His Father, Humphrey Abraham Belasco, in San Francisco, February, 1909--Their Last Meeting 272

Nance O’Neil as _Odette De Maigny_ and Julia Dean (the Younger) as _Christine De Maigny_, in “The Lily” 282

Belasco, About 1911 286

Leo Ditrichstein as _Gabor Arany_ and Janet Beecher as _Helen, Mrs. Arany_, in “The Concert” 290

“Oft in the Still Night” 294

David Warfield as _Peter Grimm_, in “The Return of Peter Grimm” 304

“The Student”--David Belasco 312

David Belasco 328

Frances Starr as _Becky_, in “The Case of Becky” 344

Belasco, About 1914 352

Frances Starr as _Marie-Odile_ 360

Lenore Ulric as _Wetona_, in “The Heart of Wetona” 372

Belasco at Orienta Point--Summer Home of His Daughter, Mrs. Gest 428

Benjamin F. Roeder, Belasco’s General Business Manager 438

Sarah Bernhardt 450

David Warfield as _Van Der Decken_ 456

Ina Claire as _Polly Shannon_, in “Polly With a Past” 460

Lenore Ulric as _Rose_, in “Tiger Rose” 466

David Belasco--His Latest Portrait, 1918 470

Belasco Leading the Parade of “The Lambs” up Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D. C. 476

“_To him the laurels and the lyre belong:_ _He won them well, and may he wear them long!_”

THE LIFE OF DAVID BELASCO

“UNDER TWO FLAGS.”--BLANCHE BATES THE RISING STAR.

The London engagement of “Zaza” ended, Belasco, Mrs. Carter, and the members of the “Zaza” company returned to America, sailing from Southampton, on board the steamship New York, August 18, 1900. Mrs. Carter’s tour in that play began at the Criterion Theatre, New York, on October 1, and Belasco turned his attention to launching Blanche Bates as a star. The histrionic vehicle which he selected for this purpose was a revamped dramatization of Ouida’s “Under Two Flags.” He had hoped to obtain a drama on a fresh subject for her use and he had asked Charles Frohman to assist in finding such a one. But, after waiting a considerable time without any suitable play coming to light and it being essential to bring her forward in something, Belasco determined to turn to an old subject and revivify it. “I decided, in desperation,” he writes, “to revive ‘Under Two Flags,’ which I had long been familiar with, of which I had made at least two versions, and which, in the old days, I had directed for Lotta. Her version of it, however, seemed very old-fashioned, and I employed Mr. Paul M. Potter to make a new adaptation of the book. I introduced a novel effect in that production in the sand-storm in the Fourth Act; it was simple in its mechanism, but it required much work to perfect it: it has since come into general use.”

Ouida’s novel is so well known to the public of the Library and, in one form or another, histrionic adaptations of it are so well known to the public of the Theatre, that the subject is, in every point of view, familiar, and minutely detailed consideration of it in this place would, therefore, be superfluous. The new theatrical epitome of that novel was made known, for the first time, at the Garden Theatre, New York, February 5, 1901. It was, in every detail, supervised and made practical by Belasco, and it owed its success to his ingenious and expert manipulation and to the embodiment of _Cigarette_ given in it under his direction by Miss Bates. The story of that ardent, picturesque, adventurous girl is a story of amatory infatuation, brave exploits, and pathetic self-sacrifice, under romantic circumstances. The representative of _Cigarette_ must be handsome, passionate, expeditious, magnanimous, resolute, full of resource, sparkling with energy,

potent in fiery conflicts of feeling, and, above all, capable of covering grief with a smile. That is the essence of her character. Blanche Bates, possessing rare personal distinction and a temperament equally attuned to the extreme moods of mirth and grief, was easily proficient in the assumption of that personality and in the pictorial and effective exposition of it. Without the presence of that actress the play (if it had ever been produced at all) would have passed as a populous, tumultuous stage pageant,--a spectacle of Moorish scenery and military bustle. Animated by her power, sensibility, and spirited, various, incessant action, it was lifted to dramatic importance and Belasco’s “desperate” venture--as he calls it--proved brilliantly successful.

The employment of _Cigarette_ is the salvation from various dangers of _Bertie Cecil_, a man whom she loves and whose love is bestowed on another woman, and her diligence in that employment is attended by risk and rewarded by ruin. Many persons appear to think that it is beatific to be loved by other persons and grievous not to be loved, and, accordingly, love-tales exemplary of the joy, on the one hand, and the sorrow, on the other, that are sequent from those antipodal conditions of experience are perennially popular. _Pygmalion_ worships a stone; _Titania_ caresses the ears of an ass, and the populace is thrilled. _Cigarette’s_ passion for _Bertie Cecil_ is of the old, familiar kind, and, the scene being Algeria, her adventures are, theatrically, shown across a background of singular beauty,--because that country is remarkable for flowers, cedar forests, Oriental palms, Roman remains, stony deserts contrasted with smiling villages, and luxuriant gardens not distant from mountains covered with snow.

Taste, thought, ingenuity, and sedulous care were expended on every feature of the pageant by Belasco, and the result was a magnificent spectacle,--one of the richest and most impressive ever seen on our Stage. Had it been brought here by Henry Irving or Herbert Beerbohm-Tree, it would have been hailed as a transcendent exploit in stagecraft. Every scene was a picture, every picture was harmonious with the phase of the story to be illustrated, and in the transitions from the luxurious villa, with its prospect of the tranquil ocean faintly rippling beneath the moon, to the desolate, rocky, weird, and ominous mountain gorge a climax of solemn grandeur seemed to take shape, color, and charm, slowly rising out of a dream of romantic beauty. The drift of whirling mist over the darkening waves of sand on the bleak seacoast would have seemed the most consummate of illusions had it not been excelled by the blinding terrors of a mountain tempest. Those effects were wrought by simple means, but they were not less splendid because of the simplicity of their management.

The _dramatic_ victory was not won, however, by either the pageantry or the play. Mr. Potter’s variant version of “Under Two Flags” is hackneyed in expedients, abrupt in movement, drastic in method, coarse in character, shady in morals, florid in style, and it was made silly, in some of the colloquies, by the infusion of contemporary slang and reference. The listener heard of “rot” and also of “the Klondike,”--unknown in the period of the story. But the old novel had been made to yield telling situations, and the strong and splendid acting of Miss Bates vitalized them, brilliantly animated the whole structure, and vindicated Belasco’s faith in the ability of the actress. The revelation of jealousy working in an unsophisticated, half-savage nature, the elemental passion expressed in the fantastic dance, the prayer of the breaking heart for her lover’s fidelity, the supplication for his pardon, the agony when repulsed, the ecstasy when triumphant, the tremendous conflict of emotions in the wild ride for rescue,--they were all displayed with more of human nature and more of a competent artist’s power to control feelings and to shape the effect of situation than had been seen on our Stage for many a long day.--This was the original cast of “Under Two Flags” at the Garden Theatre:

_Bertie Cecil_ Francis Carlyle. _John_ Maclyn Arbuckle. _Rake_ Edward S. Abeles. _Countess of Westminster_ Rose Snyder. _Venetia Lyonnesse_ Margaret Robinson. _Marquis of Chateauroy_ Campbell Gollan. _Lord Constantia_ Arthur Bruce. _Pierre Baroni_ Albert Bruning. _Renée Baroni_ Grace Elliston. _General Lamoricière_ Matt. Snyder. _Paul Lamoricière_ Madge West. _Captain de Chanrellon_ Beresford Webb. _En-ta-Maboull_ Frank Leyden. _Beau Bruno_ Tefft Johnson. _Amineh_ Mrs. F. M. Bates. _Cigarette_ Blanche Bates.

BELASCO AND DAVID WARFIELD:--THEIR FIRST MEETING.

“Under Two Flags” was acted at the Garden Theatre until June 3, 1901, when that house was closed for the season and Belasco turned his attention to preparations for the appearance of Mrs. Carter in a new play and for the bringing forward of David Warfield as a star in the legitimate

Theatre. That actor, then a popular variety hall performer and a member of the burlesque and travesty company maintained by Messrs. Weber & Fields at their theatre in New York,--in Broadway, between Twenty-ninth and Thirtieth streets,--had negotiated with Belasco, about August-September, 1900, relative to acting under his management and on November 2, that year, they entered into a formal agreement whereby Belasco undertook the direction of Warfield’s professional career. Their contract was made to cover a first period of three years: it provided that Warfield should be presented as a star, beginning about September or October, 1901, and that he should be paid a weekly salary of $300 and should receive, further, 20 per cent. of the net profits of his professional exploitation during the first year, 25 per cent. during the second year, 30 per cent. during the third year, and 50 per cent. thereafter, if the contract should be renewed. This engagement also expressly required Belasco “personally to supervise the performances to be given” by Warfield as well as to provide a play for him to act in. The professional alliance thus begun between Belasco and Warfield has proved, for both parties to it, one of the most fortunate ever made in the Theatre. The personal friendship between them began many years earlier: Belasco has given the following glimpse of its beginning:

“There was an usher at the Bush Street Theatre--a bright little fellow with a most luminous smile. He is still small, and his smile is still luminous. I did not then know his name, but I had heard that among his family and friends he was quite an entertainer, being able to sing, to mimic and to recite. One day I was at home, in my front room on the top floor, when I heard a voice in the street below. I leaned out, and there on the corner, standing on a box which scarcely raised him above the gaping onlookers, was the little usher from the Bush Street Theatre, reciting to a curious crowd. I went down and stood near until he had finished. Then I went up to him and asked him his name. ‘Dave Warfield,’ said he, giving me the smile that lived long afterwards in _Herr von Barwig_, during all the rehearsals of ‘The Music Master,’ and that was our first meeting.”

David Warfield was born in San Francisco on November 28, 1866. He began theatrical life as a programme boy, in the Standard Theatre of that city. Later he became an usher in the Bush Street Theatre there. His first professional appearance was made as a member of a travelling theatrical company at Napa, California, in 1888, as the specious, rascally Jew, _Melter Moss_, in “The Ticket-of-Leave Man.” That company was disbanded at the end of one week, and thereafter Warfield appeared at several San Francisco variety halls, and in a piece called “About Town,” and gave imitations of actors whom he had seen,--among them Tommaso Salvini and Sarah Bernhardt,--and of “types” that he had observed in the streets of his native city. In 1890 he removed to New York and obtained professional employment, for a short time, in Paine’s Concert Hall, in Eighth Avenue. His next engagement was to act _Hiram Joskins_, in a play called “The Inspector,” produced by Mr. William A. Brady: that employment lasted two months. In March, 1891, he performed as _Honora_, in “O’Dowd’s Neighbors,” in a company led by Mark Murphy. In the season of 1891-’92 he acted with Russell’s Comedians, under the management of John H. Russell, appearing as _John Smith_, in “The City Directory.” In 1892-’93 he was seen as _Washington Littlehales_, in “A Nutmeg Match.” In September, 1895, he became associated with the New York Casino Theatre, where he remained for three years, acting in “About Town,” “The Merry Whirl,” “In Gay New York,” and “The Belle of New York,”--pieces which are correctly described as medleys of tinkling music and nonsense. In those “entertainments,” frivolous and often vulgar, Warfield presented several variations of substantially the same identity,--an expert semblance of the New York East Side Jew. In 1898 he joined the company of Messrs. Weber & Fields, and at their theatre, where he remained for three seasons, he appeared in various rough and commonplace travesties of contemporary theatrical successes, generally presenting, in different lights, his photographic copy of the huckstering, acquisitive, pusillanimous Jew of low life. One notable variation of that type was his assumption of _The Old Man_, in a burlesque of the offensive play of “Catherine.” Among the salient characteristics of his acting, in whatever parts he played, were fidelity to minute detail of appearance and demeanor and consistent and continuous preservation of the spirit of burlesque,--a spirit which combines imperturbable gravity of aspect with apparently profound sincerity in preposterous situations and while delivering extravagant, ludicrous speeches. True burlesque acting is a fine art and admirable as such, and Warfield was heartily approved in that field; but at the time when Belasco undertook to make him a star in the regular Theatre nobody, I believe, except the shrewd and prescient manager,--not even Warfield,--foresaw that within a few years he would have become one of the most popular serio-comic actors of the modern American Stage.

WARFIELD AND “THE AUCTIONEER.”

The play in which Belasco elected to launch Warfield was entitled “The Auctioneer.” He had, at first, intended to write this play himself, calling it “The Only Levi.” But his time and energy were so preoccupied by labor in connection with the establishment of Miss Bates and the direction of Mrs. Carter’s career that he was unable to do so. He, therefore, employed a playwright known as Lee Arthur (Arthur Lee Kahn) to take his ideas and suggestions and weld them into dramatic form. The fabric which Arthur, in fulfilment of this employment, delivered to him was so wholly unfit for use (“an impossible thing, unworthy of production,” Belasco designated it) that he subsequently engaged the late Charles Klein to rewrite it in collaboration with Arthur, and, finally, was compelled himself to rehash and partly rectify it during rehearsals and early performances. It was first acted at the Hyperion Theatre, New Haven, Connecticut, September 9, 1901. Warfield, testifying on the subject in court, several years later, made a statement,--which, surely, may be accepted as authoritative,--regarding this piece, as originally produced, which is terse and informing: “When we began to rehearse,” he said, “we had a book filled with words. The play was a frost. _It was the biggest failure you ever heard of_, the opening night.... Mr. Belasco worked day and night upon the reconstruction of that play, from the time that he started with the rehearsals the week before we left New York [preliminary rehearsals had been conducted by Messrs. Klein and Arthur] until we came to New York and played, three weeks later.” The first performance of “The Auctioneer” in the metropolis occurred September 23, at the old Bijou Theatre, in Broadway, between Thirtieth and Thirty-first streets. The piece, as then made known, is a superficial, insubstantial one, which, however, contrives to illustrate some vicissitudes of fortune, and, in the main part, exemplifies the idea of a right philosophy in bearing them. That main part is a Jewish auctioneer, named _Simon Levi_, resident in Baxter Street, New York, and conducting an auction-room in the Five Points region. _Levi_, having inherited a modest but competent fortune, purchases a residence in a fashionable part of the city and invests the balance of his money in a Trust Company. Then, at a festival in celebration of the betrothal of his adopted daughter, a girl named _Helga_, he is apprized that his stock certificates in the Trust Company are bogus and that _Richard Eagan_, the affianced husband of

_Helga_, for whom he has bought a partnership in a Wall Street brokerage firm, is to be arrested, charged with fraud in issuing them. Forced, with his dearly loved and cherished wife, to leave his new home in ignominious circumstances, _Levi_, though feeble in body and hurt in spirit, bravely begins anew the strife of living,--peddling toys in the streets. He discovers, ultimately, that the actual swindler who has ruined him is one _Groode_, the partner of his prospective son-in-law, from whom he recovers his wealth, delivering the culprit up to justice and relieving the distress of his own loved ones. This story, notwithstanding Belasco’s strenuous labor, lost little of its trite conventionality in its histrionic relation; but his capital stage management and the highly meritorious performance given by Warfield under his direction made of a flimsy, trivial play a notable and substantial success.

It was a shrewd device, when inducting Warfield into the regular Theatre, to do so not abruptly, but, as it were, by gentle actuation,--to provide for his first essay a character which was little more than an elaboration of his Jewish “specialty,” in which his early success had been gained, with an element of pathetic experience and feeling superadded to it. “I had been watching Warfield for years,” said Belasco, “and I felt sure that, if he would only study, I could make a great character [_sic_--meaning “eccentric”] actor of him; I told him so, and when I thought he was ready I engaged him.” While I cannot altogether agree with Belasco in his opinion, often and warmly declared, that David Warfield is “a unique and great actor,”--not, that is, in the same sense that, for example, Henry Placide, William Warren, Joseph Jefferson and John Hare were great actors,--there is no question of his rare and fine talent nor of his steady growth in artistic stature. He has revealed in his acting an engaging personality, a genial disposition, a gentle manner, quick sympathy with right ideals, and capability of fervid emotion and simple pathos. Of all the many players, male and female, whom Belasco has guided and helped to develop none, in my judgment, owes more to his fostering care and assistance than Warfield does: it is extremely probable that, without Belasco’s aid, he would have remained to the end of his career a denizen of the music-halls, instead of becoming, as he has become, one of the most loved and admired actors of our Stage. As _Simon Levi_ he presented a genuine, consistent impersonation in the vein of eccentric low comedy, at places touched with tender feeling and momentarily irradiated with pathos. His assumption of the physical attributes of this particular Jew of low life,--the sallow complexion; the thin, wiry hair; the splayfooted, shambling gait; the voluble gestures, the singular dialect; the manner, now aggressive, now fawning,--was quite perfect; but his significant achievement was his success in denoting a steadfast, affectionate, patient nature beneath the mean outside of a petty huckster subjected to cruel disappointment and hardship.--This was the original cast of “The Auctioneer”:

_Simon Levi_ David Warfield. _Mrs. Levi._ Maria Davis. _Mrs. Eagan._ Marie Bates. _Callahan._ Odell Williams. _Jacob Sampson._ Harry Rodgers. _Richard Eagan._ Brandon Tynan. _Mo Fininski._ Eugene Canfield. _Minnie._ Nellie Lynch. _Groode._ William Boag. _Mrs. Sampson._ Helena Phillips. _Helga._ Maude Winter. _Dawkins._ Horace James. _Critch._ H. S. Millward. _Miss Manning._ Nina Lyn. _Miss Crompton._ Elizabeth Berkeley. _Miss Finch._ Corah Adams. _Zeke._ Cyril Vezina. _Mandy._ Ruth Dennis. _Policeman._ Harry Rawlins. _Chestnut Vender._ Richard Bevan.

IN THE GRIP OF THE OCTOPUS.--ANCIENT METHODS IN MODERN BUSINESS.

“The Auctioneer” played at the Bijou Theatre until December 21,--105 consecutive performances being given there. On December 23 Warfield began a “road tour” in that play which lasted for twenty weeks, ending at the Illinois Theatre, Chicago, May 10, 1902. The net profit from this tour was $80,000,--certainly an amazing sum to be gained by presentation in the regular Theatre of an unknown star, fresh from the music halls, who, all told, had appeared in perhaps a score of productions! But Belasco’s actual profit from the fruits of his perspicacious judgment and enterprise was far less than that great sum. The reason of this seemingly strange fact is that in his professional exploitation of Warfield he had fallen into the ruthless grip of an iniquitous “booking-monopoly” which, practically, dominated for many years what are known as “the first-class theatres” of America and which is still perniciously active. Belasco’s conflict with that monopoly was long and bitter; thousands of columns have been devoted to it in the newspaper press of the country, and it has, at various times, occupied a prominent place in public attention. That conflict grew directly out

of his undertaking the management of Warfield. Several actions at law have been incident to it. Testifying under oath in one of them, in 1905, Belasco gave an account of his experience in relation to “The Auctioneer” which I believe to be true in all essentials and of which I make the following abstract and brief chronicle:

After Belasco had undertaken to bring forward Warfield as a star he applied to Mr. Abraham Lincoln Erlanger, junior member of the firm of Klaw & Erlanger, theatrical managers and booking agents (i.e., “agents” who arbitrarily arranged tours by theatrical companies through American cities), for the purpose of making advantageous arrangements for Warfield to appear in New York and other cities. He applied to Mr. Erlanger because he was aware that it was, at the time, practically speaking, impossible for him to make such arrangements, except through the firm of Klaw & Erlanger, and that the junior member attended to such business for that firm. He called on Mr. Erlanger at his residence, No. 262 West Seventieth Street, New York, on Sunday, December 9, 1900, and stated his wish. Mr. Erlanger, in response, stated that “We [K. & E.] are not in this business for our health” and inquired “Where do we [K. & E.] come in?” Belasco replied that Klaw & Erlanger would receive their customary commission, $300 to $400, for “booking” the play. To this Mr. Erlanger rejoined “Hell, about that: we got to get something more.” Belasco, after protesting that he was not, in any way, soliciting a favor; that he assumed all risk and liability in the venture, and that he felt it to be “a sort of blackmail” (and a very obvious sort, I should say!) to exact from him a share in whatever gains might accrue to him from presentation of Warfield, offered to surrender to Klaw & Erlanger 20 per cent. of such gains, in return for “a route.” This offer, swore Belasco, Mr. Erlanger rejected, demanding that, instead he (his firm) should receive _50_ per cent. of any profits from the exploitation of Warfield. To Belasco’s inquiry as to why he should receive this unearned remuneration Mr. Erlanger rejoined “None of your damn’ business; I want half, and _if I don’t get half_ out of Warfield _you can’t have a route for him_. I will crush you out; sit upon you; jump upon you, and push you out; _crush you out of this theatrical business_!” He further admonished Belasco thus: “Understand me, Belasco; hereafter, I want 50 per cent. of every damn’ thing you do!” Belasco, after taking several days to consider this extortionate proposal, decided that he could not avoid accepting it, if he was successfully to present Warfield. He went, in company with his business manager, Benjamin F. Roeder, to Mr. Erlanger’s office and there communicated his decision to him, saying: “Mr. Erlanger, I can’t see any escape for me. I want it understood that you are _compelling_ me to give up 50 per cent. I don’t think it is right, but, if you insist, there is nothing else for me to do.” The agreement was then made, the late Joseph Brooks, an associate of Klaw & Erlanger, being put forward, according to Belasco’s testimony, as a “dummy” in the written contract, in order that the partnership of Klaw & Erlanger might be concealed from their partners in the Theatrical Syndicate,--Messrs. Charles Frohman, Al. Hayman, Samuel F. Nirdlinger (known as S. F. Nixon) and J. Fred. Zimmermann,--this concealment being desired in order that Klaw & Erlanger, as booking agents, might be able to exact more profitable terms from their Syndicate partners than would be possible if that firm were generally known to possess “an interest” in the presentation of Warfield in “The Auctioneer.” Belasco, to substantiate his assertion that, actually, he was in partnership with Klaw & Erlanger, not with Brooks, in the said presentation, produced a number of paid cheques drawn to the order of that firm, to a total amount of more than $30,000,--which, he swore, represented its 50 per cent. of profits from “The Auctioneer” during the period while that play was “booked” by Klaw & Erlanger,--a period which, from the record, seems to have ended on January 31, 1902, at Duluth, Minnesota. Brooks, by way of explaining those cheques, testified that he had directed Belasco’s business agent, Roeder, to make them payable to the order of Klaw & Erlanger because he, Brooks, was frequently absent from New York! Brooks _admitted_ that he “made them [Klaw & Erlanger] a present of” two-thirds of the half-interest in presentation of “The Auctioneer” which he asserted was his.

TESTIMONY UNDER OATH:--BELASCO _VERSUS_ ERLANGER.

If we accept Belasco’s sworn testimony as true, then it must appear that in the matter of arranging a tour for Warfield in “The Auctioneer” he was the victim of as brazen and shameful an instance of blackmail as has ever been perpetrated. It must, however, in justice be specified that Mr. Erlanger, also testifying under oath, _flatly denied every material statement_ made by Belasco bearing on this matter: the effect of Mr. Erlanger’s sworn testimony, if it be accepted as true, must be to exhibit Belasco as a villain and a liar. The eminent lawyer Samuel Untermyer, Esq., who appeared for Belasco in the legal actions from the records of which this conflictive testimony is cited, seems to have been strongly impressed by its mutually exclusive nature: in reading certain affidavits in the cases he remarked that they were “so contradictory that they reveal a most flagrant and rank perjury on one side or the other.” But every man’s testimony should receive the degree of respect and credence to which his known character and reputation entitle it. I have known Belasco for more than thirty years and, though he is (as I know and in this Memoir have shown) often inaccurate and heedless in regard to chronologic sequence, I know him to be trustworthy as to substance in the statement of material facts; in short, _his_ known character and reputation are good. Erlanger, on the contrary, is a person whose public record, as known to me, is wholly consistent with Belasco’s account of his conduct,--a cowardly, hectoring bully, of violent temper and unsavory repute. Apart from this, since Erlanger has testified relative to certain affidavits made by him “The things I _swear_ to I only _look at casually_” (!!!) I see no reason to believe that the things he “swears to,” derogatory of others, are worthy of any respect or credence. It would be pleasant to me to avoid any mention of this person, his character and proceedings; but it is impossible to do so when writing an authentic account of the life of Belasco or of the American Stage since about 1896. “He [Erlanger],” Belasco has declared, “told me that if I refused his terms he would compel me to go into the streets and blacken my face to earn a living. He said that I spoiled the public instead of compelling them to take what the Trust chose to give, and that a man with ideals in the theatrical business wound up with a benefit within three years.” There is, therefore, I believe, ample ground for the feeling toward and opinion about Erlanger which Belasco expressed in his testimony: “I detest the man and his methods. I detest him to-day. I think he is the most abhorred man in the country, because he strikes hard bargains, and he makes people give up more than any other man in the country.”--The suits at law referred to in the foregoing passage (suits brought by Joseph Brooks against David Belasco and David Belasco Company, and by David Belasco Company against Marc Klaw, Abraham L. Erlanger and Joseph Brooks, the purposes of which were to establish whether Belasco and Brooks or Belasco and Klaw & Erlanger were partners in the presentation of David Warfield in “The Auctioneer” and to secure an accounting under the partnership agreement) were tried before the Hon. James J. Fitzgerald, J., sitting in equity, at Special Session of Part V., Supreme Court, State of New York, April 6 to 26, 1905. The decision and judgment were against Belasco, and his case was carried on appeal to the Appellate Division, First Department, of the Supreme Court, April 20, 1906.

LAW _VERSUS_ JUSTICE.

That adverse decision and judgment were based on a technicality,--on a point of law, not on a point of fact. The learned Justice who rendered decision and pronounced judgment did not find that Belasco had failed to prove his contention that, actually, he was in partnership with Klaw & Erlanger, not with Brooks, in presentation of “The Auctioneer.” He found that “parol evidence” could not be held to alter the effect of a written and sealed instrument of engagement. “The rule,” he declared, “allowing parol _proof_ of an undisclosed principal _is limited to simple contracts_, for if the agreement be _a sealed_ one, _only the parties thereto subscribing_ can be held bound.” The question of prime public interest in this case (and it _is_ of prime public interest, because the veracity, reputation and standing of one of the most eminent and influential men in our Theatre are affected by it) is not whether Belasco could, in law, under a strict rule of evidence, _enforce_ against Klaw & Erlanger the contract actually signed by Brooks: the question is whether or not that contract was, _in fact_, signed by Brooks as “a man of straw” for Klaw & Erlanger, and by Belasco under duress. I cannot conceive that any intelligent and judicious person could read the testimony adduced and reach any other conclusion but that Belasco had proved his allegations as to fact. And it seems clear to me that the learned Justice must have felt satisfied that Belasco had proved his case, _as to fact_,--otherwise he would not have been at such pains to argue _in extenso_ the _incompetency_ of such _proof_ under the rule.

A FAITHFUL FRIEND:--WARFIELD FOR BELASCO. THE END OF “THE AUCTIONEER.”

Warfield’s second season in “The Auctioneer” began, September 8, 1902, at the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston, and lasted for 39 weeks,--closing at the Victoria Theatre, New York, May 30, 1903. 315 performances were given and the net profits were $70,000. His third season began at the Harlem Opera House, New York, September 28. It was in December, 1903, that Brooks applied to Judge David Leventritt for a receiver for “The Auctioneer.” Warfield, then acting in New Orleans, being apprised of this application, declared that he would “not play under the management of Klaw & Erlanger’s representative, a receiver, or any one but David Belasco.” That declaration, being published in the newspaper press, was construed by Judge Leventritt as an attempt on the part of Warfield to coerce the court in the matter of appointing a receiver and,--remarking that if it had not been for what he deemed to be an attempt at coercion he would have been inclined to appoint Belasco as the receiver,--he named W. M. K. Olcott. Warfield thereupon refused to continue acting, his tour was summarily closed, January 10, 1904,--two weeks’ salary being paid by Belasco to the members of the company, in lieu of notice,--and Warfield returned to New York. Before leaving New Orleans he published this statement:

“When I stated I would not play under the management of any one but Mr. Belasco, I meant just what I said. It was not a threat--simply expression of my honest conviction as to what was just and due to the man who has made me a successful star. ‘The Auctioneer’ was Mr. Belasco’s own investment, every penny of it. It was he who conceived the idea of starring me in a play of this character. From this man Brooks I have received nothing, nor have I from Klaw & Erlanger, who are Mr. Belasco’s partners in ‘The Auctioneer.’ The manner in which they became partners will be shown and proved when this case comes into court for trial. They refused to give Mr. Belasco bookings until he had surrendered 50 per cent. of the concern. I was an unmade star then, and Mr. Belasco was not in the position of power which he holds to-day. We had to divide. But of the profits which Klaw & Erlanger have made from the managers with whom they have booked the attraction, neither Mr. Belasco nor I have received one penny from our partners. As for Brooks, he has never had even carfare, unless Klaw & Erlanger have been more liberal to him than to us.

“The trouble and annoyance which this whole affair has caused me have made me ill. But, sick or well, I absolutely refuse to play in ‘The Auctioneer’ for any one but my own manager, Mr. David Belasco. I defy Mr. Erlanger to deny that he and Mr. Klaw, and not Mr. Brooks, are the real partners of Mr. Belasco in my tour. He told me so with his own lips, when the New Amsterdam Theatre was building last summer. He asked me to come and see how the foundations were getting on. And when I funked, before crossing a rather rickety looking plank, he said ‘I won’t let you get hurt, old man. Remember, I own 50 per cent. of you.’ When Klaw & Erlanger hand over our share of the profits they have made on the side, through booking my play, I will go on with the tour, if my health permits.”

After his arrival in New York, having read the remarks of the judge in appointing a receiver, Warfield made this further statement:

“I must disclaim any intention of having attempted to coerce the court into appointing the receiver I desired. Realizing as I did the enormous amount of labor and energy expended by Mr. Belasco in making the tours of ‘The Auctioneer’ a success, and appreciating as I did that without me in the cast it was a grave question whether the success of ‘The Auctioneer’ could continue, I thought it but proper for me to inform the court that conscientiously I could not continue to act unless Mr. Belasco was appointed receiver. I am very sorry that my statement had the effect it did have, but it is pleasing for me to learn that the charges made by Mr. Brooks against Mr. Belasco were unfounded and not believed by the court, because the court in its opinion says that were it not from a desire to rebuke _me_ it might have felt inclined to have appointed Mr. Belasco receiver. That is sufficient satisfaction to us who know Mr. Belasco’s character, because it is certainly fair to assume that the court would not have felt inclined to appoint Mr. Belasco receiver if it believed the charges brought against him.

“I am forced to continue the stand I originally took. I have closed the season of ‘The Auctioneer,’ nor will I continue to act in that play under the management of any person but Mr. Belasco.”

Brooks applied for a mandatory injunction to compel Warfield to continue acting in “The Auctioneer,” under the receivership direction of Mr. Olcott, and arguments supporting and opposing that application were heard before Justice Leventritt in the Supreme Court on January 26, 1904. Counsel for Warfield contended that while the court might enjoin Warfield from acting for any persons outside of his contract, it had no jurisdiction to compel him to act if he declined to do so. Justice Leventritt agreed with that view of the matter and held that a mandatory injunction as prayed for could not issue. Warfield did not act again for eight months.

TEMPERAMENTAL SYMPATHY.--EARLY READING: “THE LOW SUN MAKES THE COLOR.”

In his youth Belasco was an omnivorous reader (as he continues to be), but his favorite reading was that of History, and among historical characters that specially enthralled his imagination was Mary, Queen o’ Scots. Indeed, he has, in conversation, given me the impression that, from an early age, his mind has been deeply interested in the study of those famous women of history whose conduct of life is shown to have been governed by their appetites and passions. That taste seems morbid, but it is readily explicable. Such women have been, are, and always will be a direct spring of tense, dramatic, romantic situations and tragic events, and sometimes their experience involves incidents and culminates in catastrophes which make a strong appeal to persons who possess, as Belasco does, a highly emotional temperament. _Queen Guinevere_, in Tennyson’s pathetic “Idyl,” remarks that “the low sun makes the color.” Such women as Malcolm’s Queen Margaret of Scotland or Mme. Roland, probably, would be viewed by Belasco with merely languid respect or indifference. Such a woman as Navarre’s Marguerite de Valois, or Queen Catherine the Second of Russia, or the irresistible siren Barbara Villiers, or that all-conquering captivator Arabella Stuart,--whose image lives, perpetual, in sculpture and, as Brittania, on the coins of Great Britain,--would, on the contrary, provide for him an exceedingly interesting study. It is not, therefore, altogether surprising that when Belasco had established Mrs. Leslie Carter as a successful star it pleased him to select for public illustration in a drama one of the most depraved and dissolute feminine characters that hang on the fringes of history,--the shameless hussy who, about 145 years ago, was picked out of the streets of Paris, and under the auspices of the most notorious titled blackguard of his time wedded to a complaisant degenerate, in order that she might succeed Mme. Pompadour as the mistress of King Louis the Fifteenth of France. Marie Jeanne Becu (1746-1793), who began life in Paris as a milliner, became a courtesan, under the name of Mlle. Lange, was later a lure for a gambling house, then, ennobled as the “Countess du Barry,” was installed as the mistress of the corrupt King Louis the Fifteenth,--whom practically she ruled for five years,--and finally was slaughtered in the Reign of Terror, is the theme of one of the most pictorial, popular, and successful of Belasco’s plays. His selection of a story of that remarkable female’s adventures for dramatic exploitation was not, however, wholly spontaneous. In 1899, aware that a successor to the torrid termagant of the Paris music-halls would presently be required for Mrs. Carter’s use, he began to cast about for a play with a central character suited to her personality and method. Not finding anything which he deemed satisfactory in the numerous dramas, old as well as new, by many authors, which he examined, he began, regretfully, to contemplate the necessity of writing one to fit his star,--regretfully, because he was weary and would have been glad to avoid adding the labor of authorship to that of business and stage management. His election had practically fallen on Queen Elizabeth as the central figure to be shown, when he abruptly determined to visit England, partly in faint hope of finding there a drama which would serve his end; more with intent to refresh his mind by change and travel and to stimulate himself to his new task by visiting all the places associated with the life and reign of Elizabeth. He sailed from New York on June 14, 1899. Soon after he arrived in London an American playbroker, Miss Elisabeth Marbury, communicated to him that “she had a great idea for a part for Mrs. Carter.” Belasco, entertaining a high opinion of Miss Marbury’s judgment and rejoiced at the sudden prospect of escaping the labor of authorship, immediately went to see her, at Versailles, in France, and there was informed that the French poet M. Jean Richepin “proposed to write a play founded on the life of du Barry.” The appended account of what followed has been written by Belasco, and it provides explicit information on a subject that at one time was disputed with acrimony in the newspaper press and occupied much of the attention of the theatre-going public:

GENESIS OF BELASCO’S _DU BARRY_.--CHARACTER OF THE HISTORIC ORIGINAL.

“Miss Marbury outlined the plot as told to her by the dramatist, and, as she repeated it to me, the story seemed to possess great possibilities. I had produced Revolutionary plays with much success and the period was dramatic. No manager in search of a woman’s play could have resisted the fascinating little milliner of history! Not long after our first interview I made arrangements with M. Richepin. I smile at the recollection of my conversation with the French author! He spoke very little English and I no French at all; yet I seemed to know what he said, and he grew most enthusiastic over my pantomime. The contracts were arranged, the advance royalties paid, the costume plates begun, and before I left for London the scene models were ordered from the scenic artist of the Comédie Française. Carried away by the enthusiasm of M. Richepin, I bought yards and yards of old du Barry velvets, antique silks, and furniture of the period. When I left for home I had made all arrangements to produce a play not a line of which was written. I returned to New York elated, feeling certain that in a few weeks M. Richepin would have the piece ready for rehearsals. When the manuscript of ‘Du Barry’ arrived, I could scarcely wait to open the package. Alas! I was doomed to disappointment. ‘Du Barry,’ in the literary flesh, was episodic. It was poetic and beautifully written, but deadly dull. It differed entirely from the story I had heard in Versailles. My company was practically engaged, my models done--and no play! I wrote to M. Richepin, and gave him my opinion of the manuscript. I did not utterly condemn his first draft, for I hoped that with some suggestions, he might be able to reshape his material; but the longer he worked the more impossible the manuscript became, until at last I lost all faith in it. It possessed a certain charm, but--it was not a play. By this time I had paid M. Richepin something like $3,000 in advance royalties, and the properties and scenes were almost all delivered. I was so deeply involved that I saw no way out of it. As du Barry was free to any dramatist, I decided it was time to have a hand in dramatizing the lady myself. I knew exactly what I wanted and what was best suited to Mrs. Carter. Under the circumstances, it seemed to me that I could save time and cablegrams by taking my own suggestions instead of sending them to Paris. I arrived at this decision only when I found that M. Richepin was a far greater poet than playwright. So I threw out his play and set to work on my own.”

Speaking of the character of “the little French milliner,” Belasco has said: “History paints du Barry as the most despised woman of her time. She is said to have been the most evil creature antedating the French Revolution. I had a vast number of books relating to du Barry, and ransacked them all for one redeeming trait in her character: not one kind word. Alas! Not _one_! For the first time in my life I found myself in the hands of a really bad woman. I had never met one before (bad men I _have_ met, but women,--never!). I felt a desire to rush to her defence.... But--I need not have troubled myself to defend the lady, for, good or bad, from the first night until the close of the play three years later the public liked the French milliner and the houses were sold out.”

A little more careful ransacking of his vast du Barry library might have revealed some of the kind words about “the lady” which Belasco sought. Voltaire, in 1773, signified his appreciation of du Barry’s charms in the following couplet, which certainly carries adulation to an extreme limit:

“C’est aux mortels d’adorer votre image; L’original était fait pour les dieux.”

The following description of this handsome female explains, at least partially, the influence that she exerted. It was written by the Comte de Belleval, one of her many admirers:

“Madame du Barry was one of the prettiest women at the Court, where there were so many, and assuredly the most bewitching, on account of the perfections of her whole person. Her hair, which she often wore without powder, was fair and of a most beautiful color, and she had such a profusion that she was at a loss to know what to do with it. Her blue eyes, widely open, had a kind and frank expression, and she fixed them upon those persons to whom she spoke and seemed to follow in their faces the effect of her words. She had a tiny nose, a very small mouth, and a skin of dazzling whiteness. In short, she quickly fascinated every one.”

A FANCIFUL FABRIC.--“DU BARRY” FIRST PRODUCED.

The play which Belasco fabricated and produced under the name of “Du Barry” is radically fanciful: its uses historic names, but it is not, in any sense, history. As in many precedent cases so in this one,

authentic records were ignored and an arbitrary, gilt-edged, rosy ideal took the place of truth. _Nell Gwynn_, in the person of Miss Henrietta Crosman, had worn the halo but a little time before (Bijou Theatre, New York, October 9, 1900), and if _Nell Gwynn_ could wear it, why not _Marie Jeanne_? This burnishing process, to be sure, is diffusive of vast and general misinformation, but for most persons that seems to be quite as useful as accurate knowledge, and, after all, if the Stage is to present imperial wantons in any fashion it may as well present them in a decent one. The gay _du Barry_ as seen by the dramatist,--or, at least, as shown by him,--was abundantly frail, but she was also fond, and while she did not scruple to pick up the royal pocket-handkerchief she nevertheless, in her woman’s heart, remained true to her first love: that is the story of the play. The adventurous actual du Barry became the paramour of Cossé-Brissac, after King Louis the Fifteenth had died and after she had been exiled from the French Court. In the play the lady hides that lover in her bed (he has been wounded, and she persuades him to seek this retirement by pounding on his wounds with a heavy candlestick, until he becomes insensible), so that the jealous _King_, committing the blunder of Byron’s _Don Alfonso_, in “Don Juan,” cannot find him: she also wields the convenient candlestick with which to smash the sconce of an interloping relative who otherwise would betray him; she defies, for his sake, the gracious Majesty of France and every appurtenance thereunto belonging; and, at the last, she goes pathetically to the guillotine, still loving him and still deploring her innocent, youthful past, when they were happy lovers together, when all was peace, joy, and hope,--because as the old poet Rogers prettily phrases it, “Life was new and the heart promised what the fancy drew.” As a matter of fact, the amiable countrymen of du Barry sent her to the guillotine, in the winter of 1793, because they had ascertained that she was too rich to be a patriot and also, probably, had entered on a secret correspondence with their enemies in England.

As an epigraph to his play the dramatist selected a remark by Oliver Wendell Holmes, that “not the great historical events but the personal incidents that call up sharp pictures of some human being in its pang or struggle reach us more nearly.” That statement sounds well, but it labors under the disadvantage of not being true. The play, however, exemplifies it to the extent of showing its heroine chiefly in her “pang”--a condition which, seemingly, ensues upon her being a feather-brained fool, but which she loquaciously ascribes to Fate and a ruthless appetite for “pretty things.” There is some lightness at the start, when _Jeanne_ is a milliner, but the opening act proves to be practically needless, since the play does not actually begin till after the second curtain has been raised. Then the volatile girl is tempted by the offer of the _King’s_ love, and in order that she may accept it her honest lover is made to misunderstand her, in an incredible manner, such as is possible only on the stage. In the Third Act she has become a great personage, almost a queen, and that act, which is interesting, various, and dramatic, terminates with a highly effective scene, possible in a play, but impossible in life,--when _du Barry’s_ wounded lover, falling insensible on that lady’s bed and being carelessly covered with drapery, remains there, sufficiently visible to a crowd of eager and suspicious pursuers who are searching for him--but do not find him. The rest of the piece shows the _King’s_ efforts to capture the fugitive and _du Barry’s_ schemes and pleadings to save him, and it terminates with a pathetic farewell between the lovers as _Jeanne_, deserted and forlorn, is being conveyed to the guillotine.

Mrs. Carter, adept in coquetry, displayed, as _du Barry_, her abundant physical fascination, but if she had refrained from removing her shoes and showing her feet at brief intervals during the performance she would have been considerably more pleasing in that easy vein of bewitchment:--they were not even pretty feet. In serious business the method of Mrs. Carter as _du Barry_ was to work herself into a state of violent excitement, to weep, vociferate, shriek, rant, become hoarse with passion, and finally to flop and beat the floor. That method has many votaries and by them is thought to be “acting” and is much admired, but to judicious observers it is merely the facile expedient of transparent artifice and the ready resource of a febrile, unstable nature. An actor who loses self-control can never really control an audience. There were, nevertheless, executive force and skill in Mrs. Carter’s performance, after it had been often repeated under the guiding government of her sagacious and able manager.

Belasco’s “Du Barry” was first produced at the New National Theatre, Washington, D. C., December 12, 1901. The first performance of it in New York occurred December 25, that year, at the Criterion Theatre, where it was continuously acted till the close of the season, May 31, 1902, receiving 165 consecutive performances. The play is comprehended in five acts and eight scenes and it implicates fifty-five persons,--of whom five are conspicuous characters by whom the burden of the action is sustained,--and a host of supernumeraries. It was set on the stage in a scenic investiture of extreme costliness and ostentation, being, indeed, almost overwhelmed in the profusion of its accessories of spectacle. Referring to this extreme opulence of environment and attire, Belasco has said: “I offered Charles Frohman a half-interest in my ‘Du Barry,’ but he declined to come in with me because of the immense expense. His judgment was logical, too. ‘Du Barry’ might easily have ruined any manager. The expenses of the production were such that there was little profit to be made. When the curtain rose it afforded the public an opportunity to see how a manager’s hands were forced by the very prodigality of the subject he had chosen. My production was lavish because the play was laid in a lavish time. The mere ‘suggestion’ of luxury would not do,--or so I thought. Were I to do it again, it would be from an entirely different standpoint.” I much doubt whether, if the venture were to be made anew, Belasco would make it in a different way. At any rate, the purpose he had in mind was fully accomplished: the immense prodigality of his presentment profoundly impressed and greatly delighted his audiences, and the Criterion was densely crowded at every performance. The two most striking scenes were those of Act Three, which showed a room in the Palace of Versailles, and the Last Scene of