In the “Life” of Charles Frohman--by his brother Daniel (a man of far higher ability) and another writer--some informative utterances by him are quoted,--utterances which reveal and establish the quality of his mind more unmistakably than whole chapters of analysis could do. This is one of them, imparting his view of the greatest poet and dramatist that ever lived and of the consummate tragedy of youthful love, “Romeo and Juliet”: “‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Frohman. ‘Who’s Shakespeare? He was just a man. He won’t hurt you. I don’t see any Shakespeare. Just imagine you’re looking at a soldier, home from the Cuban war, making love to a giggling schoolgirl on a balcony. That’s all I see, and that’s the way I want it played. Dismiss all idea of costume. Be modern.’”--The tragedy was acted in the manner he desired. Charles Frohman was simply a wholesale dealer in theatrical produce. He “made” many “stars”--“stars” being a commodity requisite in his business and for the manufacture of which he expressed a strong liking. He never made an actor. There was nothing of importance accomplished in the Theatre through his activity that would not have been accomplished equally well if he had never been born. As far as the Art of the Theatre is concerned he stands in about the same relation to such men as Wallack, Daly, and Belasco as a maker of chromo-lithographs does to Corot or Inness. * * * * * Belasco was a good fighter--resourceful, courageous, pertinacious. He never forgot a kindness nor an injury,--yet bitter and, to a certain point vindictive, as his resentment of injury unquestionably was, he could easily be placated and he was instantly amenable to any appeal to his kindness of heart. I well remember one occasion on which I chanced to be with him and other friends (it was the last night of the run of “The Darling of the Gods,” May 30, 1903) when he was called away by an urgent appeal. He presently returned and, speaking aside with me, informed me that the message had been from a person widely known among journalists and actors as one of the vilest creatures that ever scribbled slander about decent men and women for the blackguard section of the press and one who had done him great wrong and injury. “And now,” Belasco said, “he comes to _me_--appealing for help!” “What have you done?” I asked. “What could I do?” he answered: “The man is in the gutter--friendless--penniless--starving. I couldn’t refuse him--now, could I? I gave him what he asked for.” That incident is significantly characteristic.... * * * * *