The Return of Peter Grimm | Page 2

are
measure of his type of mind, of his vivid memory, of his personal

opinions.
Belasco has reached his position through independence which, in the
'90's, brought down upon him the relentless antagonism of the
Theatrical Trust--a combine of managers that feared the advent of so
individualistic a playwright and manager. They feared his ability to do
so many things well, and they disliked the way the public supported
him. This struggle, tempestuous and prolonged, is in the records.
A man who has any supreme, absorbing interest at all is one who
thrives on vagaries. Whatever Belasco has touched since his days of
apprenticeship in San Francisco, he has succeeded in imposing upon it
what is popularly called "the Belasco atmosphere." Though he had
done a staggering amount of work before coming to New York, and
though, when he went to the Lyceum Theatre, he and Henry DeMille
won reputation by collaborating in "The Wife," "Lord Chumley," "The
Charity Ball," and "Men and Women," he was probably first
individualized in the minds of present-day theatregoers when Mrs.
Leslie Carter made a sensational swing across stage, holding on to the
clapper of a bell in "The Heart of Maryland." Even thus early, he was
displaying characteristics for which, in later days, he remained
unexcelled. He was helping Bronson Howard to touch up "Baron
Rudolph," "The Banker's Daughter" and "The Young Mrs. Winthrop;"
he was succeeding with a dramatization of H. Rider Haggard's "She,"
where William Gillette had failed in the attempt.
"The Heart of Maryland" established both Belasco and Mrs. Carter.
Then he started on that extravagant period of spectacular drama, which
gave to the stage such memorable pictures as "Du Barry," with Mrs.
Carter, and "The Darling of the Gods," with Blanche Bates. In such
pieces he literally threw away the possibilities of profit, in order to
gratify his decorative sense. Out of that time came two distinctive
pieces--one, the exquisitely poignant "Madame Butterfly" and the other,
"The Girl of the Golden West"-- both giving inspiration to the
composer, Puccini, who discovered that a Belasco play was better
suited for the purposes of colourful Italian opera than any other
American dramas he examined.

Counting his western vicissitudes as one period, and the early New
York days as a second, one might say that in the third period David
Belasco exhibited those excellences and limitations which were
thereafter to mark him and shape all his work. There is an Oriental love
of colour and effect in all he does; but there is no monotony about it.
"The Darling of the Gods" was different from "The Girl of the Golden
West," and both were distinct from "The Rose of the Rancho." It is this
scenic decorativeness which has enriched many a slim piece, accepted
by him for presentation, and such a play has always been given that
care and attention which has turned it eventually into a Belasco
"offering." None of his collaborators will gainsay this genius of his.
John Luther Long's novel was unerringly dramatized; Richard Walton
Tully, when he left the Belasco fold, imitated the Belasco manner, in
"The Bird of Paradise" and "Omar, the Tentmaker." And that same
ability Belasco possesses to dissect the heart of a romantic piece was
carried by him into war drama, and into parlour comedies, and plays of
business condition. I doubt whether "The Auctioneer" would read well,
or, for the matter of that, "The Music Master;" Charles Klein has
written more coherent dialogue than is to be found in these early pieces.
But they are vivid in mind because of Belasco's management, and
because he saw them fitted to the unique figure of David Warfield.
But a Belasco success is furthered by the tremendous public curiosity
that follows him in all he does. There is a wizardry about him which
fascinates, and makes excellent reading in the press. Long before I saw
the three-winged screen upon which it is his custom to sort out and pin
up his random notes for a play, it was featured in the press. So were
pictures of his "collection," in rooms adjoining his studio--especially
his Napoleonic treasures which are a by-product of his Du Barry days.
No man of the theatre is more constantly on the job than he. It is said
that old John Dee, the famous astrologer whom Queen Elizabeth so
often consulted, produced plays when he was a student at Cambridge
University, with stage effects which only one gifted in the secrets of
magic could have consummated. Belasco paints with an electric
switchboard, until the emotion of his play is unmistakably impressed
upon the eye. At a moment's notice he will root out his proscenium arch,
and build a "frame" which obliterates the footlights; at another time he

will build an "apron" to his stage, not for