was then in San Francisco, and I stipulated with Maguire that he should engage her for me, and also Osmond Tearle and Gerald Eyre, from Wallack’s; John Jennings, from the Union Square, and Clara Walters, who was then acting in Salt Lake City.” Maguire agreed to do this, the engagements were made, and Belasco earnestly addressed himself to the completion of his play, which was accomplished in six weeks. Meantime Tearle ended his engagement in New York (at Wallack’s Theatre, July 2) and, with other members of the Wallack company, went at once to San Francisco, where rehearsals of the new play were immediately begun.

Belasco’s “La Belle Russe” was originally entitled “Violette.” He chanced to read the phrase “la belle Russe” on a wind-blown fragment of newspaper, was pleased by it, and adopted it as a better title. The play is a fabric of theatrically effective but incredible situations, and it is founded on two other plays, well known to him,—both of them having been acted in San Francisco, under his management,—namely, “Forget Me Not,” by Herman Merivale and Charles Groves, and “The New Magdalen,” by Wilkie Collins: the version produced under Belasco’s direction was a piratical one made by James H. LeRoy. La belle Russe is a beautiful but vicious Englishwoman, named Beatrice Glandore, daughter of a clergyman. She has sunk, by a facile process of social decline, until she has become a decoy for a gambling house, where, pretending to be a Russian, she is known to its frequenters by the sobriquet which gives the play its name. She has a virtuous twin sister, Geraldine, so like her in appearance that they are, practically, indistinguishable. La belle Russe has infatuated a young Englishman, Captain Brand (known at the time by the name of Captain Jules Clopin), with whom she has lived, whom she has robbed, abandoned, and finally shot, believing herself to have killed him. Geraldine, meantime, has married a young Englishman of great expectations, Sir Philip Calthorpe, who is repudiated by his mother and other relatives because of his marriage, whereupon, in financial straits, though represented as loving his wife, Calthorpe deserts her, enlists in the Army, and disappears.

After the lapse of a considerable period, Calthorpe being reported as dead, Lady Elizabeth Calthorpe, his mother, experiences a change of heart, and advertises for information about his widow. Beatrice, la belle Russe, poor and resident in Italy, hears of this inquiry and, believing her twin sister to be dead, determines to present herself in the assumed person of Geraldine, as the widow of Calthorpe, and thus to obtain for herself and her young daughter (of whom Brand is the father) a luxurious home and an enviable social station. In this fraud she partially succeeds, being accepted as Calthorpe’s widow by both Lady Elizabeth and her family lawyer, Monroe Quilton, who evince a confiding acquiescence singularly characteristic of proud old English aristocrats and their astute legal advisers. Almost in the moment of her success, however, Sir Philip having come from Australia, she finds herself installed not as his widow but as his wife,—and also she finds that Sir Philip is accompanied by her former companion, Captain Brand, those wanderers having met in Australian wilds and become close friends. Philip is sure she is his wife and gladly accepts her as such. Brand, on the contrary, promptly identifies the spurious Geraldine as Beatrice, and, privately, demands that she abandon her fraudulent position. This she refuses to do, defying Brand to oust her from the newly acquired affections of Calthorpe and his mother,—and thus, practically, the situation is created wherein StÉphanie de Mohrivart defies Sir Horace Welby, in the play of “Forget Me Not.” Beatrice, having made an unsuccessful attempt to poison Brand, in order to remove all obstacles and maintain her place, is finally defeated and driven to confession and surrender when that inexorable antagonist reveals to her not an avenging Corsican (the dread apparition which overwhelms StÉphanie), but the approaching figure of her twin sister, the true Geraldine and the actual wife of Calthorpe,—who, also, is conveniently resurrected for the family reunion.

Aside from the impossibility of most of these occurrences,—a defect which is measurably lessened by Belasco’s deft treatment of them,—and also from the blemish of intricacy in the substructure of the plot, “La Belle Russe” is an effective play, of the society-melodrama order,—the action of it being free and cumulative, the characters well drawn, and the interest sustained. It contains an interesting exposition of monstrous feminine wickedness, and stimulates thought upon the infatuation that can be caused by seductive physical beauty, and it suggests the singular spectacle of baffled depravity stumbling among its attempted self-justifications,—Beatrice, of course, entering various verbal pleas in extenuation which, accepted, would establish her as a victim of ruthless society instead of her own unbridled tendencies. The play possesses, likewise, the practical advantages of a small cast, implicating only nine persons and requiring for its display only three simple sets of scenery. The San Francisco production of it was abundantly successful, Miss Jeffreys-Lewis, who had previously won high praise by performances of StÉphanie de Mohrivart, and also of the Countess Zicka, in “Diplomacy,” being specially commended, one observer declaring that, though her performances of those parts were good examples of the acting required in the tense dramatic situations of a duel of keen wits, “her Geraldine [Beatrice] Glandore is more varied, more vivid, more intense, and generally powerful. Her mobile face took on every shade of expression that the human face can wear, and perhaps not the least natural was the open, artless, sunny countenance which quickly won Sir Philip’s love.” Tearle as Captain Brand and Gerald Eyre as Calthorpe were almost equally admired, and the play had a prosperous career of two weeks,—which, in San Francisco at that time, was substantial testimony to its popularity. Belasco writes this account of the production:

The first presentment of “La Belle Russe” was made at the Baldwin Theatre, to mark “the inauguration of the regular dramatic season” there, on July 18, 1881. During the rehearsals of it Tearle had several times spoken to Belasco, signifying doubt about the “French origin” of the play and, finally, remarking that Belasco showed an astonishing familiarity with every word and detail of the drama. “Well, whatever you may think,” Belasco assured him, “please believe you are mistaken and say nothing about it—just now.” His wishes were observed: one contemporary comment on the day before its production remarks that “of the play little seems to be known. It is said to resemble ’Forget Me Not.’ The actors say it is strong.” The first announcement I have been able to find of the actual authorship is in a newspaper of July 26, 1881, where it is advertised as “The strongest play of modern times, ’La Belle Russe,’ by D. Belasco, author of ’Hearts of Oak.’” After all question of the acceptance of his play was ended and his authorship acknowledged Belasco asked Tearle to inform Lester Wallack about it, “if he thought well enough of the play to feel justified in doing so.” “Oh,” answered Tearle, “I’ve done that long ago; I telegraphed to him after the first performance: it will be just the thing for Rose Coghlan.” Thus Belasco felt he was in a fair way to accomplish his purpose of securing a New York opening. This was the original cast of “La Belle Russe”: