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Sat Sept 7
Oh how ugly a big city is; especially when one lives in an ugly part of it. I could have wept last night when I saw this awful block. But inside the house was so sweet and clean as the result of Mila's heroic labors that it didn't seem to belong to the block at all. Mother looks well, tho' she doesn't stay up, and sinks back into her nervousness constantly. It is so hard to believe she is really ill, for when one has been away for it while, it seems as unreal as a nightmare. Mila and I spent the day downtown, and in the P.M. saw Grace George in "Divor\c{c}on's!'' The heavy dose of De Musset which I had in Greenacre gave me rather a distaste for the woman, man and other man theme, but it proved to be very clever after the first act and Grace George was delightful. I don't feel drawn to the stage by its glamour in the least, and yet I have a feeling that I shall ultimately hand there. Addie says "don't do it, its a dog's life'' Well, I shall let matters arrange themselves!
Sun Sept 8 [Nov 24!]
Well, it is quite evident that if my little book is not to go the way of most diaries, I must rescue it before another day passes for here it is November 24 and I have not written a word since the above date. For several weeks nothing occurred. I wrote letters and waited for answers. Oh how tiresome that was, but that is the inevitable in connection with theatricals. But here is the cart before the horse already. Had a long serious talk with Mrs. Collins. We were brutally honest and searching about my voice and came to the conclusion that I could never support myself by it. That was the practical basis on which we reviewed the subject, putting aside likings and preferences; and I decided finally and definitely that afternoon to go on the stage. Oh but she is the angel-lady. Such a sympathetic, fine-fibered and yet coolly critical friend. That last is what makes her so valuable. I had received that earnest letter from her, exhorting me to be natural, and myself at Greenacre, and she had promised to explain the special circumstances which inspired it when I returned. It proved to have been Ella's visit at Mt. Kisco. She said Ella was so affected and so gushingly enthusiastic that she was nearly insane before their departure (Williamson was there) and realized that that same affectation, which I had probably acquired thro' such frequent contact with Ella, was the thing she most objected to in me. I was quite dumb-founded, for I should have supposed that I was the stronger personality and consequently should not be the one to take the impression of Ella's mannerisms. But Mr. C. said that the moment Ella and W. left, Mr. C. turned to her and said "For God's sake, the next time you see Blanche tell her to stop imitating that girl! She has more in her little finger than that silly will ever be, and it is too absurd of her to affect those mannerisms.''
That before Lily S. had said a word. So I was forced to ruefully face the fact and when I told Mila she said she had often noticed traces of Ella's high-pitched enthusiasm in me, but had not wished to make me self-conscious by speaking of it. Well I am evidently very impressionable and must guard against being any one else but B.J. when I am playing that role.
Oh, but it does one good to be sat on occasionally!
Mrs. C. took me out to Mt. Kisco with her and in the train I talked to Mr. Schirmer. He said he thought it showed much more intelligence to decide upon the dramatic career than to persist in singing when results were not satisfactory. He knows Frohman and said he would write to him. Had a charming two days visit at Brookside. Mrs. Marquand, whom I met in the trains, seemed to take a fancy to me and invited me over with Mrs. C. to tea the next day. She has a lovely house, Italian-villa effect, and I sang and had a nice time. The next morning Mrs. C. played Chopin and the whole first act of "Pelleas et M\'{e}lisaude'' for me, singing all the parts. I loved it for its wierd shifting harmonies, of which one gets only an elusive impression at first hearing. But somehow, the poetry of foreign tongues moves me or rather I get the feeling of poetry more in foreign tongues than in English.
***
Finally, after some weeks of waiting, I received notes of introduction from Traubel to Fiske and Julia Marlowe. Sent a note to Fiske asking for an appointment, and since have called innumerable times. No response of any sort. Pig!! Oh well, ces choses arrivent et il faut s'y faire!
***
After diverse miscarried appointments, finally saw George Middleton. He was strong on the school proposition and introduced me to Mr. Sargent. He was charming to me, and said many nice things, the nicest of which was that he wanted to help me to an opportunity because he thought I should be a credit to the stage. He promised to speak to various people and do all he could, but did not think I needed the school training at present.
***
Thought I would like to get into a Belasco company on account of the long N.Y. runs, so spoke to Mr. Bull. He said that Mr. Davis had a nephew who is a drama critic and knows "Mr. Dave'' very well and might give me a letter of introduction. So I e'en hied me down to Davis's and after a talk and divers telephone messages he secured the letter to Belasco for me. I also secured one from Mr. Conried to the same gentlemen, to gain added weight to the matter. Sent them both, together with a coy little note of my own to the blatantly successful manager. No response. Another carefully worded letter from me -- Again no reply -- So I suppose that chapter is closed.
***
Finally a letter from Mr. Schirmer with an appointment to see Frohman's acting manager Mr. Seymour.