The Return of Peter Grimm | Page 4

simple terms, and there was nothing strange to the eye

or unusual in the situation. One cannot approach the theme of the
psychic without a personal concern. Sardou's "Spiritisme" was the
culmination of years of investigation; the subject was one with which
Belasco likewise has had much to do during the past years.
It is a privilege to be able to publish "Peter Grimm." Thus far not many
of the Belasco plays are available in reading form. "May Blossom" and
"Madame Butterfly" are the only ones. "Peter Grimm" has been
novelized--in the day, now fortunately past, when a play was novelized
in preference to perpetuating its legitimate form. And excerpts from the
dialogue have been used. But this is the first time the complete text has
appeared and it has been carefully edited by the author himself. In
addition to which Mr. Belasco has written the following account of
"Peter's" evolution, to be used in this edition.
The play, "The Return of Peter Grimm," is an expression in dramatic
form of my ideas on a subject which I have pondered over since
boyhood: "Can the dead come back?" Peter Grimm did come back. At
the same time, I inserted a note in my program to say that I advanced
no positive opinion; that the treatment of the play allowed the audience
to believe that it had actually seen Peter, or that he had not been seen
but existed merely in the minds of the characters on the stage.
Spiritualists from all over the country flocked to see "The Return of
Peter Grimm," and I have heard that it gave comfort to many. It was a
difficult theme, and more than once I was tempted to give it up. But
since it has given relief to those who have loved and lost, it was not
written in vain. Victorian Sardou dealt with the same subject, but he did
not show the return of the dead; instead, he delivered a spirit message
by means of knocking on a table. His play was not a success, and I was
warned by my friends to let the subject alone; but it is a subject that I
never can or never have let alone; yet I never went to a medium in my
life--could not bring myself to do it. My dead must come to me, and
have come to me--or so I believe.
The return of the dead is the eternal riddle of the living. Although
mediums have been exposed since the beginning of time, and so-called
"spiritualism" has fallen into disrepute over and over again, it emerges

triumphantly in spite of charlatans, and once more becomes the theme
of the hour.
The subject first interested me when, as a boy, I read a story in which
the dead "foretold dangers to loved ones." My mother had
"premonitions" which were very remarkable, and I was convinced, at
the time, that the dead gave these messages to her. She personally could
not account for them. I probably owe my life to one of my mother's
premonitions. I was going on a steamboat excursion with my school
friends, when my mother had a strong presentiment of danger, and
begged me not to go. She gave in to my entreaties, however, much
against her will. Just as the boat was about to leave the pier, a vision of
her pale face and tear-filled eyes came to me. I heard her voice
repeating, "I wish you would not go, Davy." The influence was so
strong that I dashed down the gang-plank as it was being pulled in. The
boat met with disaster, and many of the children were killed or
wounded. These premonitions have also come to me, but I do not
believe as I did when a boy that they are warnings from the dead,
although I cannot explain them, and they are never wrong; the message
is always very clear.
My mother convinced me that the dead come back by coming to me at
the time of her death--or so I believe. One night, after a long, hard
rehearsal, I went to bed, worn out, and fell into a deep sleep. I was
awakened by my mother, who stood in my bedroom and called to me.
She seemed to be clothed in white. She repeated my name over and
over--the name she called me in my boyhood: "Davy! Davy!" She told
me not to grieve--that she was dying; that she had to see me. I
distinctly saw her and heard her speak.
She was in San Francisco at the time--I, in New York. After she passed
out of the room, I roused my family and told what I had heard and seen.
I said: "My mother is dead. I know she is dead;" but I could not
convince