A POVERTY-STRICKEN STRUGGLE.

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When Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Dudley, her mother, returned to New York after the demise of “The Ugly Duckling,” in Kansas City (1891), they established their residence at No. 63 Clinton Place. Belasco lodged at No. 126 Waverley Place, and almost immediately he resumed his project of writing, unaided, a new play specially designed for the use of Mrs. Carter. Having no convenient place of his own in which to work, he obtained the use of a room in Mrs. Dudley’s apartment, in which to write his play, and there he completed the first draft of “The Heart of Maryland,” and incidentally continued his tuition of Mrs. Carter. I remember seeing them once at about that period at Delmonico’s old restaurant, Twenty-sixth Street, where I chanced to be dining with Augustin Daly and Ada Rehan, and years afterward, on one of the few occasions when I have personally met Mrs. Carter, she mentioned remembering the same incident, saying it was so unusual for them, in those days of trouble, to visit that pleasant place. They were, she added, celebrating some little favorable turn in their prospects; “I looked at Mr. Daly and Miss Rehan,” said Mrs. Carter, “and whispered to ’Mr. Dave,’ ’Shall we ever “get there” and be, like them, successful and accepted?’ To which, she said, Belasco confidently answered, “Of course we shall!”

Speaking to me lightly of that period of ordeal, which was, in fact, a bitterly afflicting one for him to endure, Belasco said: “But Delmonico’s was not for us in those days: my family were, fortunately for them, in San Francisco, and many a time,—habitually, in fact,—Mrs. Carter and her mother and I ’dined’ at a twenty-five cent table d’hÔte on Fourth Avenue—and were lucky to dine anywhere. We had put all we had into launching and exploiting Mrs. Carter, and those two women were hard put to it to keep their Clinton Place apartment. As for me,—well, I had, of course, some income from my plays, and I gave private coaching to beginners and professionals, anybody who would employ me (among others, by the way, Georgia Cayvan, who always liked to have me rehearse her, even after I left the Lyceum), and I kept going, after a fashion; but I had expenses heavier than my resources would meet, and I was most of the time poorer than I like to remember—and all the time I was harassed with anxiety.”

Writing of that same period, he gives this glimpse of a poverty-stricken struggle:

“It so happened that at this time the first of the ’beauty doctors’ and the ’facial-massage’ school were making fortunes with their lotions. It may be interesting to know that Mrs. Carter was sorely tempted to enter this field and bring out a preparation for the complexion. In fact, she negotiated with a well-known chemist, who advised her to carry out her idea. Lack of necessary capital prevented, however, and she kept to the stage instead of becoming a business woman. The world may have lost a very good ’skin-food,’ but it gained a fine actress.

“When ’The Heart of Maryland’ was finished models of the scenes were made and I found myself with a play and a star—but no financial manager. Every one to whom I read the manuscript was eager to accept it, but no one wanted Mrs. Carter, despite the success she had made. Every manager had a leading woman far, far better suited to the part of Maryland. I never heard of such wonderful leading women! The town was alive with them! ’Mrs. Carter is not a public favorite,’ I was told on all sides. ’However, the play was written for her, and I’ve made up my mind not to take it away from her,’ I answered. The Lord knows she had suffered enough while waiting for it.”

Mrs. Carter, beyond demonstrating her possession of genuine though nascent histrionic ability, obviously had not made any “success,”—except in her approving preceptor’s mind. Indeed, the disastrous fate of “The Ugly Duckling,” impending legal contentions, and the general social oppugnancy to Mrs. Carter were strong, in fact seemingly insuperable, reasons for managerial hesitancy in making any venture vitally dependent upon her for its success. Belasco, though he adhered to his resolve that only Mrs. Carter should act the part of Maryland Calvert, which he had devised for her, felt himself almost nonplussed. He was heavily in debt; he had no employment; he felt himself to be the object of active journalistic animosity; he possessed no financial resources; he seemed, in short, to be on the verge of defeat. Charles Frohman chanced to meet him at that time and, mentioning to him “a play with music” which had then recently been presented in Paris, made a suggestion that led to their first partnership in theatrical management. “The piece seems to have made a sensation,” said Frohman: “the American rights are owned by Charles Wyndham. The leading characters are a Quaker father and his daughter. The daughter is the part. Can Mrs. Carter sing? Because, if she can and you want to produce it with me, I’ll get an option from Wyndham: you and Mrs. Carter go to Paris and see the piece—and, if you think she can play the part and that it will be a go in this country, we’ll do it together.” Belasco, although somewhat doubtful whether Mrs. Carter could successfully sustain the requirements of a singing part, felt that the proffered opportunity must not be neglected; after discussing the point with his pupil a decision to essay the venture was quickly made, and, on April 15, 1891, laying aside for the moment all other plans, Belasco, Mrs. Carter and her mother sailed for England on board the steamship City of New York, and from Southampton proceeded at once to France. “When we reached Paris,” writes Belasco, “we found the Bouffes Parisiennes ’selling out’ and ’Miss Helyett’ the talk of the town. It was so full of possibilities that I cabled ’C. F.’ to secure the rights before I saw the last act.” That recommendation was promptly heeded by Frohman. Writing of an interview with Edmond Audran, author of the music, which occurred soon after he had seen the play, Belasco records:

“I asked him to give me a letter in praise of the singer who was to play the part, but without mentioning her name, for not only did we wish to create a surprise in America, but to avoid complications with Wyndham in London. I knew he would want us to engage a singer of established reputation, so I avoided mentioning the name of the artist who was to have the title-part, Wyndham was quite insistent when I met him in London, but I handed him Audran’s letter, which proved to be the magic stroke. Before the day was over, all arrangements were made by cable.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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