That is a simple, almost trite, story; but Belasco contrived to tell it in action more than in words, and his telling of it proceeds from one sensation to another with cumulative effect. Divested of all outward flourishes, it is seen to be the portrayal of a conflict between virtue, animated by love, and villany, impelled by cupidity and brutal license. The vulgarian would seize the estate of the old Spanish family. The hero, who loves its young mistress, would save it for her; and in order to accomplish that object he is compelled to pretend fraternity with her oppressor,—for which reason she temporarily mistrusts him; but his purpose is accomplished, his fidelity is proved, and his love is rewarded. In all this, happily, there is no examination of the remote causes of the universal passion; no philosophic essay on masculine strength as opposed to feminine weakness; no treatise on elective affinities. The play, in short, is an old-fashioned melodrama in a new-fashioned dress; one of those plays that the spectator observes with an interested desire to ascertain how it will turn out. No new type of character is presented, nor is a special attempt made to variegate the old types. Kearney, of Washington, is the handsome, gallant, expeditious young cavalier who has loved and rescued the endangered maiden in a hundred plays of the past. Kinkaid, of Beaver, is the same old blackguard and bully who seems victorious for a moment, but is always finally discomfited, in the chronic story of the Far West. Don Luis is the debonair but disappointed suitor, from whom the Bride of Netherby always rides away. Father Antonio is the good and gentle priest who cheers the drooping spirit and bestows ecclesiastical benediction. The only persons who savor of exceptional quality are Señora Kenton and her daughter Juanita, the Rose,—the one a stern and formidable woman, vital with Spanish hatred of the invading American; the other, a passionate, capricious, wilful girl, who can be sweet and tender, but who is customarily piquant, independent, and resolute in her own course: characters strongly reminiscent of the matron and the heroine in “Ramona.” But, all the same, the old tale of strength protecting weakness, stratagem defeating duplicity, and love triumphant over hate, pleased, as it always has pleased, and as it always will continue to please—“till all the seas run dry.” Although, intrinsically, not exceptional as a work of dramatic art, “The Rose of the Rancho” has positive and abundant felicity of theatrical merit, imparted by the skilful hand of Belasco, and the production of it was worthy of his brightest fame. This was the original cast of it:

Kearney, of Washington Charles Richman.
Don Luis de la Torre A. Hamilton Revelle.
Padre Antonio Frank Losee.
Lieutenant Larkin William Elliott.
Kinkaid John W. Cope.
Rigsby Wayne Arey.
Sunol J. Harry Benrimo.
Tomaso Frank Westerton.
Ortega Norbert Cills.
Goya Candido Yllera.
Pico Fermin Ruiz.
Fra Mateo Frank de Felice.
A Gardener Richard S. Conover.
Salvador Gilmore Scott.
Pascual Salvatore Zito.
Benito Vincent de Pascale.
Estudilla Julio Grau.
Yorba Francesco Recchio.
Cadet Regino Lopez.
El Tecolero Virgilio Arriaza.
Bruno C. A. Burnett.
Manuel Leonardo Piza Lopez.
Señora Dona Petrona Castro Marta Melean.
Señora Kenton Grace Gayler Clark.
Juanita, called La Rosa del Rancho Frances Starr.
Trinidad Jane Cowl.
Beatriz Catherine Tower.
Carlota Atalanta Nicolaides.
Guadalupe Maria Davis.
Señora Alcantara Regina Weil.
Agrada Louise Coleman.
Kinkaid’s Ranchmen, Caballeros, Vaqueros, Musicos,
Servants, Etc.
Señoritas, Dueñas, the Child of the Dance, Etc.

Miss Starr, in her performance of Juanita, manifested impetuosity of temperament combined with charm of personality, and by her arch behavior as a coquette, together with the vigor and sparkle of her demeanor as a wounded, doubting, resentful, and angry young woman, gained and merited general admiration.—A significant thought as to expedition

Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.

FRANCES STARR AS JAUNITA, IN “THE ROSE OF THE RANCHO”