In the stage history of this play there is a significant and important illustration of the vital principle in dramatic writing,—often recognized and expounded by Belasco, yet sometimes by him ignored,—of the value of suggestion instead of realism in creation of effect,—the device, that is, so well expressed by Wordsworth in the line “part seen, imagined part.” Writing with regard to what he learned from dramatization, at first literal, afterward suggestive, of an incident witnessed by him during his wild Virginia City days,—the funeral of a poor, misled girl who died in a vile resort,—Belasco says:
“About this time [1874-’75?] I think it was that I completed my play, ’The Doll Master,’ which served so many emotional actresses on the road. It was founded on many incidents in my Virginia City career, and I remember how much I made of the scene occurring in the house of Annie Grier. I even went to the extreme of introducing the casket of the dead girl, and her weeping companions around it. Then it was that I learned my first big lesson in suggestion—a lesson which has been one of the greatest that has ever been brought home to me. As a dramatist it was not incumbent on me to show everything to the audience—only enough to stimulate the imagination. My task was to let the audience know that somewhere near was the casket. How many times since then have I spent hours and hours devising the best means of thus appealing to the imagination. In the olden days when there was a battle scene a scanty crowd of supers was marshalled upon the stage in farcical fashion, and you could hear the tin armor rattle as the warriors fought half-heartedly. This matter of suggestion being uppermost in my mind, it occurred to me that much more effect could be gained, as far as proportion and magnitude were concerned, by having those fights off stage. I put this theory of mine into practice when the time came for me to produce my ’The Girl I Left Behind Me.’ The audience heard the Indians chanting, and heard the approach of the United States soldiers off stage, and they did not know whether there were ten or ten thousand men at hand. It is my impression that this was the first instance of suggested warfare seen in the East.”
The principle here expounded is exactly right,—and, as used in the original production of “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” it was splendidly successful. Yet when that drama was revived, March 12, 1894, at the Academy of Music, where it ran till June 2, Belasco, deferring to an alleged or assumed requirement of popular taste, introduced, at the climax of the Third Act, a troop of mounted cavalry, which dashed upon the stage—and, though popular enough with the “groundlings,” spoiled the artistic effect of the play.
An interesting sidelight with regard to the writing of “The Girl I Left Behind Me” is provided in the following fragment of reminiscence by Belasco,—though, whether consciously or not, it is certain that the influence of Boucicault’s “Jessie Brown” (which he had produced in San Francisco in his stock company days) operated on his mind in writing his Indian drama:
A SUGGESTIVE REMINISCENCE OF FRONTIER DAYS.
Writing of the inception of this play, Belasco says:
“During the ’Heart of Maryland’ days, when I was in the South, I met Mrs. George Crook, widow of General George Crook, who fought in the Civil War and afterwards gained fame as an Indian fighter. Mrs. Crook delighted in relating her husband’s exploits and I delighted in hearing them. Her tales were exciting, and the general’s uniform, his sword and pistols, his boots and spurs, made the scenes she was describing very convincing and in my mind I dramatized everything she told me.
“‘I always accompanied the general,’ said Mrs. Crook, ’and shared many of his dangers.’ Immediately there came before me the spectacle of a woman within easy reach of the firing-line, facing the anguish and uncertainty of never seeing her husband alive again, and her own terrible fate if the battle went against him. One incident impressed me particularly. ’The general had rounded up a band of Indians whom he had been pursuing for some time,’ said Mrs. Crook, ’and the place where he was to give them battle was so close to our camp that he was in great distress for my safety. He condemned himself bitterly for having permitted me to come with him. If the battle were lost, we in the camp would be at the mercy of the Indians. An orderly was holding the general’s horse, but my husband could not bear to leave our tent. Three times he started and returned. He and I once made an agreement that were I in danger of being captured I was to shoot myself. And now, under the stress of great necessity, he reminded me of the compact, and saw that my revolver was in good order. We read the Bible together, prayed, kissed, and parted. All through the night I sat in the camp, knowing if the battle were lost I must die before the savages could surround us. I heard the sounds of firing, and knew the fighting was desperate. After hours of waiting I heard hurried steps. Some one was running towards my tent. I grasped my pistol, thinking my time had come. “We’ve licked ’em,” I heard a soldier cry. He had been sent by the general to tell me all was well. I sank to the ground, overcome by the relief, after the suspense I had endured. You can imagine my joy when the general came back to me!’
“I had always intended to dramatize this adventure of Mrs. Crook’s, and decided to do it now. This was the inspiration for ’The Girl I Left Behind Me.’”