It is probable that, without the sting of this contemptible conduct on the part of the stockholders of the Lyceum (instigated, as I understand, by complaints from Miss Georgia Cayvan), Belasco would, for some time longer, have continued to toil in his treadmill at that temple of liberal virtue. As the ultimate event has proved, it was fortunate that he was thus annoyed. He had resolved to retire before he had finished writing his acknowledgment of Mr. Frohman’s note; he sent in his resignation soon afterward, and, on March 27, 1890, his association with the Lyceum was ended. A LONG, LONG ROAD. One of my earliest and best friends, the loved and honored poet Longfellow, sometimes cited to me a maxim (which, alas, I have all my life neglected to heed!) that “he who carries his bricks to the building of every one’s house will never build one for himself.” When Belasco withdrew from the Lyceum Theatre (March 27, 1890) he had been for twenty years,--notwithstanding his efforts toward independence,--carrying bricks to build houses for other persons. He was conscious of this mistake and dissatisfied with himself for having made it, and he now resolutely determined to build for himself. During the five and one-half years, March, 1890, to October, 1895, he worked with persistent diligence, often in the face of seemingly insurmountable difficulties, to train and establish the woman of whose histrionic destiny he had assumed the direction and to achieve for himself position and power as a theatrical manager. He had in mind for his embryonic star, Mrs. Leslie Carter, a play which, ultimately, was written and successfully produced, under the name of “The Heart of Maryland”; but when first he seriously began the task of training that beginner for the stage even the plan of that play was rudimentary, and it became imperative that he should at once secure a practical vehicle for her use and should get her launched as an actress. There could be no question of her beginning in a minor capacity in some obscure company and working her way up: she had no thought of enduring any such novitiate, though she was willing, in fact eager, to perform any amount of arduous labor. But, with her, it was a case of beginning at the top--or not at all. In general, that is a mistaken plan; it results in utter failure a hundred times for once that it succeeds; yet, sometimes, where backed by genuine ability and indomitable courage, the course that seems rash proves really the most judicious, and for those with the heart to endure to lose it proves the way to win. The famous soldier Montrose wrote truly: “He either fears his fate too much Or his deserts are small, That puts it not unto the touch To win or lose it all.”