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

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

“THE WARRENS OF VIRGINIA.”

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

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

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

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:

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:

“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”:

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

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:

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:

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.