XVIIIHOW I DISCOVERED HANAKOEVERYTHING that comes from Japan has always interested me intensely. Consequently it is easy to understand with what pleasure I came into relationship with Sada Yacco, and why I did not hesitate to assume financial responsibility for her performances when she decided to come to Europe with her whole company.Sada Yacco had brought with her a troupe of thirty people. These thirty cost me more than ninety of another nationality would have done; for apart from everything that I was obliged to do to entertain them, I had constantly to go down on my knees to secure permission to attach to each train that carried them an enormous car laden with Japanese delicacies, rice, salted fish, mushrooms and preserved turnips—delicacies were necessary to support the existence of my thirty Japanese, including Sada Yacco herself. During one whole season I paid the railway companies 375,000 francs for transportation, but that cost me much less than to pay all the debts I should have been obligedto assume from Lisbon to St. Petersburg if I had decided to send my Japanese home.I tried for a long time to get my money back by transporting my Nipponese and their viands up and down the earth, but, weary of the struggle, I finally assembled another troupe, which was as good as the first one and which was willing to travel without a cargo of rice and salted fish.“Business is business” I am well aware. I decided, therefore, to endure bravely the losses I had incurred, and I was thinking of quite another subject when fortune appeared to smile on me again.In London there was a Japanese troupe looking for an engagement. The actors came to see me. They made some ridiculous claims and I sent them away. But as they did not find an engagement, we came to an understanding, and I found an impresario for them, who took them to Copenhagen.I went to Denmark, too, and I expected to look after the affairs of these Japanese and attend to my own business as well.When they arrived at Copenhagen I saw the whole troupe for the first time. They all came to greet me at my hotel and played some piece or other of their own invention.I noticed at that time, among the comedians, a charming little Japanese woman, whom I should have been glad to make the star of the company. Among these Japanese, however, women did notcount for much, all the important roles being taken by men. She was, nevertheless, the only one who had attracted my attention. She played a minor part, it is true, but very intelligently, and with the oddest mimicry. She was pretty withal, refined, graceful, queer, and so individual as to stand out, even among those of her own race.When the rehearsal was over I gathered the actors together and said to them:“If you are going to remain with me you will have to obey me. And if you do not take this little woman as your star you will have no success.”And as she had a name that could not be translated, and which was longer than the moral law, I christened her on the spot Hanako.To make a long story short they assented to my request, and lengthened out my protégée’s role. In reality the play had no climax. I therefore made one for it then and there. Hanako had to die on the stage. After everybody had laughed wildly at my notion, and Hanako more than all the others; she finally consented to die. With little movements like those of a frightened child, with sighs, with cries as of a wounded bird, she rolled herself into a ball, seeming to reduce her thin body to a mere nothing so that it was lost in the folds of her heavy embroidered Japanese robe. Her face became immovable, as if petrified, but her eyes continued to reveal intense animation. Then some little hiccoughs convulsed her, shemade a little outcry and then another one, so faint that it was hardly more than a sigh. Finally with great wide-open eyes she surveyed death, which had just overtaken her.It was thrilling.The evening of the first appearance came. The first act was successful. The actors acquired confidence and entered into the spirit of their parts, a fact which caused them to play wonderfully well. I was obliged to leave after the first act, for I was dancing at another theatre, but some one came to tell me at the close of the performance that Hanako had scored more than a success; it was a veritable triumph. To her it came as a genuine surprise, but one that was not more extraordinary than the anger provoked by her success among the actors of the company. The box office receipts, however, somewhat assuaged their sensitiveness, and I was able to give to the feminine member of the troupe a longer part in the new play, rehearsals of which were just beginning.From this time on Hanako was in high favour. Everywhere she was obliged to double the number of her performances. After Copenhagen she made a nine months’ tour of Europe. Her success in Finland bordered upon popular delirium. Finland, it is interesting to note, has always evinced the greatest sympathy for Japan. This was during the time of the Russian-Japanese War.She played in all the royal theatres of Europe.Then after a tour in Holland she came finally to Paris.LOIE FULLER’S ROOM AT THE FOLIES-BERGÈRELOIE FULLER’S ROOM AT THE FOLIES-BERGÈREThe Japanese and Hanako stayed with me for nearly a year. At the close of their contract they gave some performances at Marseilles and then dispersed. Some of them went home, others proceeded to Paris or elsewhere. Time passed, and I heard nothing more about my Japanese, when one day I received a letter from Hanako, who told me that she was at a cheap concert hall at Antwerp, where she had to sing and dance for the amusement of sailors, patrons of the place. She was all alone among strangers, and the man who had brought her to this degrading pursuit inspired her with mortal terror. She wrote me that she wanted at all costs to be saved from her fate, but that, without assistance, the thing was utterly impossible. She had gone from Marseilles to Antwerp with other actors of the troupe to take a steamer for Japan. At Antwerp she and her travelling companion had fallen into the hands of a low-lived compatriot, and she called me to her rescue.One of the actors of the company happened to be in Paris, and I sent him to Antwerp with two of my friends. After numerous difficulties and thanks to the police, they were able to enter into communication with Hanako and tell her that they had come to take her away.One evening she succeeded in escaping with hercompanion, and, with no baggage except the little Japanese robes which they wore, they took the train for Paris.Hanako had been obliged to leave behind her little pet Japanese dog, lest by taking it away from the house she should arouse the proprietor’s suspicion. They reached Paris shrouded in the European cloaks I had sent them, which were far too long, and hid them completely.Presently I found myself in Paris, manager of one of the most gifted Japanese artists, but, alas! with no company to support her. I was puzzled to know what to do with and what to do for a kind, gentle, sweet little Japanese doll.I first tried to find out if some one would not engage Hanako, then an entire stranger to Paris, and a small, a very small company for one of the minor theatres.I received from one of the managers a remarkable answer. If I could guarantee that the play which Hanako would present was a good one he would engage her.The play? Why there was no play. But I was not bothered by a little detail like that, and I explained that Hanako would offer a wonderful play, one that was easy to understand whether you knew Japanese or not.Then I signed a contract for ten performances on trial. A contract? Yes, it was a contract. And I had not secured my actors yet. And Ihad no play yet. I had, altogether, Hanako, her maid and a young Japanese actor. I was not discouraged, however. I undertook to find another actor. I secured one in London, thanks to an agent. Then I went to work to construct a play for four characters. There were two major roles and two supernumeraries. The result of my efforts was “The Martyr.”A great difficulty now arose. The question came up of procuring wigs, shoes, costumes and various accessories. But here again luck helped me out. They made a very successful first appearance at the Théâtre Moderne in the Boulevard des Italiens. The play was given thirty presentations instead of ten and twice a day, at a matinee and in the evening. Presently the manager said to me:“If your actors have another play as good as that one I would keep them a month longer.”Naturally I declared they had another play, a better one than the first, and I signed a new contract.New stage settings, new costumes and new accessories were necessitated. The result was a new tragedy called “A Drama at Yoshiwara.”While the new play was running the manager of the Palais des Beaux-Arts at Monte Carlo made a very important offer for my Japanese, for three performances. I accepted. The troupe left for Monaco, where they gave twelve performances instead of three. In the meantime a small theatre,that of the Musée Grevin, proposed to engage my Nipponese for a month in a new play which was to be a comedy. To suit the purposes of this theatre we wrote “The Japanese Doll.” Next the Little Palace offered a month’s engagement for a play that was to be a tragi-comedy. There my Japanese played the “Little Japanese Girl.” Finally they went to the Treteau Royal, where Mr. Daly engaged them for their six plays, a circumstance that compelled me to increase theirrepertoireby three new pieces, “The Political Spy,” “The Japanese Ophelia,” and “A Japanese Tea House.”Hanako finally began a tour of Switzerland with the company. Mr. Daly suddenly wanted Hanako to appear in New York, and to break off this trip I needed more imagination and took more trouble than in writing a dozen plays. Then I was obliged, still on Mr. Daly’s account, to break an agreement for a tour in France.Such is the history of my relations with Hanako, the great little actress from Japan. As it is always fitting that a story of this kind shall end with a wedding, I may say that, conforming to the tradition, the actor Sato, whom I sent to release Hanako at Antwerp, is now the husband of the little Japanese doll.
EVERYTHING that comes from Japan has always interested me intensely. Consequently it is easy to understand with what pleasure I came into relationship with Sada Yacco, and why I did not hesitate to assume financial responsibility for her performances when she decided to come to Europe with her whole company.
Sada Yacco had brought with her a troupe of thirty people. These thirty cost me more than ninety of another nationality would have done; for apart from everything that I was obliged to do to entertain them, I had constantly to go down on my knees to secure permission to attach to each train that carried them an enormous car laden with Japanese delicacies, rice, salted fish, mushrooms and preserved turnips—delicacies were necessary to support the existence of my thirty Japanese, including Sada Yacco herself. During one whole season I paid the railway companies 375,000 francs for transportation, but that cost me much less than to pay all the debts I should have been obligedto assume from Lisbon to St. Petersburg if I had decided to send my Japanese home.
I tried for a long time to get my money back by transporting my Nipponese and their viands up and down the earth, but, weary of the struggle, I finally assembled another troupe, which was as good as the first one and which was willing to travel without a cargo of rice and salted fish.
“Business is business” I am well aware. I decided, therefore, to endure bravely the losses I had incurred, and I was thinking of quite another subject when fortune appeared to smile on me again.
In London there was a Japanese troupe looking for an engagement. The actors came to see me. They made some ridiculous claims and I sent them away. But as they did not find an engagement, we came to an understanding, and I found an impresario for them, who took them to Copenhagen.
I went to Denmark, too, and I expected to look after the affairs of these Japanese and attend to my own business as well.
When they arrived at Copenhagen I saw the whole troupe for the first time. They all came to greet me at my hotel and played some piece or other of their own invention.
I noticed at that time, among the comedians, a charming little Japanese woman, whom I should have been glad to make the star of the company. Among these Japanese, however, women did notcount for much, all the important roles being taken by men. She was, nevertheless, the only one who had attracted my attention. She played a minor part, it is true, but very intelligently, and with the oddest mimicry. She was pretty withal, refined, graceful, queer, and so individual as to stand out, even among those of her own race.
When the rehearsal was over I gathered the actors together and said to them:
“If you are going to remain with me you will have to obey me. And if you do not take this little woman as your star you will have no success.”
And as she had a name that could not be translated, and which was longer than the moral law, I christened her on the spot Hanako.
To make a long story short they assented to my request, and lengthened out my protégée’s role. In reality the play had no climax. I therefore made one for it then and there. Hanako had to die on the stage. After everybody had laughed wildly at my notion, and Hanako more than all the others; she finally consented to die. With little movements like those of a frightened child, with sighs, with cries as of a wounded bird, she rolled herself into a ball, seeming to reduce her thin body to a mere nothing so that it was lost in the folds of her heavy embroidered Japanese robe. Her face became immovable, as if petrified, but her eyes continued to reveal intense animation. Then some little hiccoughs convulsed her, shemade a little outcry and then another one, so faint that it was hardly more than a sigh. Finally with great wide-open eyes she surveyed death, which had just overtaken her.
It was thrilling.
The evening of the first appearance came. The first act was successful. The actors acquired confidence and entered into the spirit of their parts, a fact which caused them to play wonderfully well. I was obliged to leave after the first act, for I was dancing at another theatre, but some one came to tell me at the close of the performance that Hanako had scored more than a success; it was a veritable triumph. To her it came as a genuine surprise, but one that was not more extraordinary than the anger provoked by her success among the actors of the company. The box office receipts, however, somewhat assuaged their sensitiveness, and I was able to give to the feminine member of the troupe a longer part in the new play, rehearsals of which were just beginning.
From this time on Hanako was in high favour. Everywhere she was obliged to double the number of her performances. After Copenhagen she made a nine months’ tour of Europe. Her success in Finland bordered upon popular delirium. Finland, it is interesting to note, has always evinced the greatest sympathy for Japan. This was during the time of the Russian-Japanese War.
She played in all the royal theatres of Europe.Then after a tour in Holland she came finally to Paris.
LOIE FULLER’S ROOM AT THE FOLIES-BERGÈRELOIE FULLER’S ROOM AT THE FOLIES-BERGÈRE
LOIE FULLER’S ROOM AT THE FOLIES-BERGÈRELOIE FULLER’S ROOM AT THE FOLIES-BERGÈRE
LOIE FULLER’S ROOM AT THE FOLIES-BERGÈRE
The Japanese and Hanako stayed with me for nearly a year. At the close of their contract they gave some performances at Marseilles and then dispersed. Some of them went home, others proceeded to Paris or elsewhere. Time passed, and I heard nothing more about my Japanese, when one day I received a letter from Hanako, who told me that she was at a cheap concert hall at Antwerp, where she had to sing and dance for the amusement of sailors, patrons of the place. She was all alone among strangers, and the man who had brought her to this degrading pursuit inspired her with mortal terror. She wrote me that she wanted at all costs to be saved from her fate, but that, without assistance, the thing was utterly impossible. She had gone from Marseilles to Antwerp with other actors of the troupe to take a steamer for Japan. At Antwerp she and her travelling companion had fallen into the hands of a low-lived compatriot, and she called me to her rescue.
One of the actors of the company happened to be in Paris, and I sent him to Antwerp with two of my friends. After numerous difficulties and thanks to the police, they were able to enter into communication with Hanako and tell her that they had come to take her away.
One evening she succeeded in escaping with hercompanion, and, with no baggage except the little Japanese robes which they wore, they took the train for Paris.
Hanako had been obliged to leave behind her little pet Japanese dog, lest by taking it away from the house she should arouse the proprietor’s suspicion. They reached Paris shrouded in the European cloaks I had sent them, which were far too long, and hid them completely.
Presently I found myself in Paris, manager of one of the most gifted Japanese artists, but, alas! with no company to support her. I was puzzled to know what to do with and what to do for a kind, gentle, sweet little Japanese doll.
I first tried to find out if some one would not engage Hanako, then an entire stranger to Paris, and a small, a very small company for one of the minor theatres.
I received from one of the managers a remarkable answer. If I could guarantee that the play which Hanako would present was a good one he would engage her.
The play? Why there was no play. But I was not bothered by a little detail like that, and I explained that Hanako would offer a wonderful play, one that was easy to understand whether you knew Japanese or not.
Then I signed a contract for ten performances on trial. A contract? Yes, it was a contract. And I had not secured my actors yet. And Ihad no play yet. I had, altogether, Hanako, her maid and a young Japanese actor. I was not discouraged, however. I undertook to find another actor. I secured one in London, thanks to an agent. Then I went to work to construct a play for four characters. There were two major roles and two supernumeraries. The result of my efforts was “The Martyr.”
A great difficulty now arose. The question came up of procuring wigs, shoes, costumes and various accessories. But here again luck helped me out. They made a very successful first appearance at the Théâtre Moderne in the Boulevard des Italiens. The play was given thirty presentations instead of ten and twice a day, at a matinee and in the evening. Presently the manager said to me:
“If your actors have another play as good as that one I would keep them a month longer.”
Naturally I declared they had another play, a better one than the first, and I signed a new contract.
New stage settings, new costumes and new accessories were necessitated. The result was a new tragedy called “A Drama at Yoshiwara.”
While the new play was running the manager of the Palais des Beaux-Arts at Monte Carlo made a very important offer for my Japanese, for three performances. I accepted. The troupe left for Monaco, where they gave twelve performances instead of three. In the meantime a small theatre,that of the Musée Grevin, proposed to engage my Nipponese for a month in a new play which was to be a comedy. To suit the purposes of this theatre we wrote “The Japanese Doll.” Next the Little Palace offered a month’s engagement for a play that was to be a tragi-comedy. There my Japanese played the “Little Japanese Girl.” Finally they went to the Treteau Royal, where Mr. Daly engaged them for their six plays, a circumstance that compelled me to increase theirrepertoireby three new pieces, “The Political Spy,” “The Japanese Ophelia,” and “A Japanese Tea House.”
Hanako finally began a tour of Switzerland with the company. Mr. Daly suddenly wanted Hanako to appear in New York, and to break off this trip I needed more imagination and took more trouble than in writing a dozen plays. Then I was obliged, still on Mr. Daly’s account, to break an agreement for a tour in France.
Such is the history of my relations with Hanako, the great little actress from Japan. As it is always fitting that a story of this kind shall end with a wedding, I may say that, conforming to the tradition, the actor Sato, whom I sent to release Hanako at Antwerp, is now the husband of the little Japanese doll.