I remember the first performance of “Hearts of Oak” in New York. The play was a patchwork of hackneyed situations and incidents, culled and refurbished from such earlier plays as “Little Em’ly,” “Rip Van Winkle,” “Leah the Forsaken,” and “Enoch Arden.” Some of those situations were theatrically effective, and the quality of the fabric was instinct with tender feeling. The articulation of the parts, meaning the mechanism, indicated, to some extent, an expert hand,--which unquestionably its chief manipulator, Belasco, possessed, and which he has since more amply shown. The element of picture, however, exceeded that of action, and the element of commonplace realism, manifested partly in the drawing of character, partly in the dialogue, and largely in the accessories and stage business, was so excessive as to be tiresome. Real water, real beans, real boiled potatoes, and various other ingredients of a real supper, together with a real cat and a real (and much discontented) baby, were among the real objects employed in the representation. Such things, particularly when profusely used in a play, are injurious to dramatic effect, because they concentrate attention on themselves and distract it from the subject and the action to be considered. Accessories should blend into the investiture of a play and not be excrescences upon it. There is, however, a large public that likes to see on the stage such real objects as it customarily sees in the dwelling or the street,--a real fireplace,
From a photograph by (Stevens?). The Albert Davis Collection.
a real washtub, a real dog, a real horse, all the usual trappings of actual life: that is the public which finds its chief artistic pleasure in _recognition_. It was present on many occasions during the career of “Hearts of Oak,” and with this plethora of real and commonplace objects it was much pleased.
In the story of “Hearts of Oak” a young man, _Ruby Darrell_, and a young woman, _Chrystal_ (_Dennison?_), who love each other and wish to wed, privately agree to abnegate themselves in order that the young woman may marry their guardian and benefactor, _Terry Dennison_, out of gratitude to him. This immoral marriage is accomplished and in time the wife becomes a mother. In time, also, the injured guardian discovers,--what, if he had possessed even ordinary discernment, he would have discovered in the beginning,--that his wife’s affections are fixed on _Darrell_. The miserable _Dennison_ then goes away, after privately arranging that if he does not return within five years _Darrell_ shall wed with _Chrystal_. Six years pass; _Dennison_ is reported to have perished at sea in the wreck of a Massachusetts ship, and _Chrystal_ and _Ruby_ erect a churchyard monument to his memory. Then _Chrystal_, believing herself to be a widow, marries her lover. But the desolate husband is not dead; he reappears, blind, destitute and wretched, on the wedding day, and in a colloquy with his child, outside of the church within which the marriage is being solemnized and seated on the base of his memorial among the graves, he ascertains the existent circumstances and presently expires, while his wife and little daughter pitifully minister to him as to a stranger. The misery and pathos of the experience and situation are obvious. It is also obvious that, in the fulfilment of a central purpose to create a situation and depict a character instinct with misery and pathos, the element of probability was disregarded. The chief part is that of the injured, afflicted, suffering guardian, who, as a dramatic character, is a variant of _Enoch Arden_ and _Harebell_.