The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1900-04-25
) MY FIRST PLAY.
A Story Showing How
Art Is One Thing
And Its Rendition Quito
Another.
-
BY KARL PAUL..
BY KARL PAUL..

once wrote play, unfortunately not
! my only one: since then l have sinned
similarly a number Of times. Perhaps
the gentle reader may have seen my
name on some theater programme. If he
then neglected attending the performance,
he made n great mistake, in my humble
opinion, and l advise him as friend to
make it good at the next opportunity,
particularly as the German stage mana
gers, who underrate my merits, very
seldom give one Of my works, which has
not prevented my writing 81 plays, with
CO acts and 1872 scenes. To prevent mis-
takes allow me to remark that not each
of the q plays contained CO acts and 1872
scenes, but altogether they beast that
number. But all this does not belong
here, and l beg pardon for the depression.
If am not mistaken, mentioned in tho
beginning that had written play. 1t
was not five act tragedy, or three
act comedy; oh, no, only a modest little
one act piece had flowed from my pen,
and when saw what had done-behold
it was very good. No wonder that I
quickly decided to deprive the world no
longer Of this enjoyment, nor myself of
the laurels of fame. had the little play
neatly copied and sent it to a theatrical
publisher. At that time | had not tho
sad experience of today. l was innocent
enough to think theatrical publishers and
agents read the illusions of unknown
authors; therefore / was not little sur
prised to have my play returned to me
after about four weeks, with polite
printed letter, in which the publisher in
formed me that he had no use for the
play. The first day was very much de-
pressed, the second annoyed; finally, on
the third day, came to the conclusion
that that ass of n publisher" knew moth
ing about 1t, packed up my play again
and sent 1t to another.
The same result, with the difference
that the second publisher sent back the
MS. not prepaid, 80 l called him
"blockhead," who knew less than the
first, and sent it off to third.
But this one also sent it back-this
time registered and not prepaid. l laid
1t aside in silent resignation.
Some time after chance took me to a
large town'niid another chance led to my
acquaintance with a manager of q thea
tel. who by, chance was staying there.
AS H. matterSof course did not neglect
this combination Of lucky chances
gave him1 my little play, which I, by
another chance, had by me, and he PROM
Used me to read it as soon as possible.
He kept his word sooner than I ex-
pectcd, for the next day he wrote me he
was delighted with the play and would
bring it out with pleasure, if would not
require royalty. Inclosed was a for
mula for postoffice money order for 1S
marks 8 pfennigc, made out to the man
aser, the price Of II tickets.
How shabby! l would not insist upon
the royalty. What did that matter? I
would also take the y tickets-one must
encourage art-but the pfennige, which
Is the postman's perquste for delivering
the money. be might have managed to
pay himself If his postscript had not
contained an invitation to the first re-
hearsal Of my play, to take place tho
next day but one, l do not know what l
should have DONE but as it was swal-
lowed my irritation and sent the money.
The day dawned. The rehearsal was
set for II o'clock. At was up. The
evening before had looked through Les
sings "Dramaturgie" and Klein's His
tory Of the Drama" and over the many
obscure passages l had become little
stupider than usually am. At half past
D could stand my room no longer and
went out Of doors. Seven times I walk.
ed up and down the street in which the
theater was, the eighth time ventured
as far as the entrance and by tho tenth
took bold resolution and walked in.
Oh, how desolate the great hall looked!
1t was rather low class smoking thea
ter. Empty and half empty beer glasses |
stood on the tables which filled the half
lit space. Cross looking walters, with
heir shirt sleeves rolled up, moved about
between the rows of chairs. The curtain |
was half raised, and on the dark stage
stood all sorts of furniture in wild con- |
fusion.
An unpleasant feeling overcame me.
Was this the golden gate Of the temple Of
art? ordered glass Of beer. 1t was
7ery bad. 1t was not vet 10 o'clock. At
10 I ordered second glass. 1t was still
worse. The minutes dragged along on
eaden feet. l took up paper, but found
10 sense in what l read. To this day I
10 not know whether the newspaper or
ny condition of mind was in fault.
A quarter to II. They must come
Ioon.
Every time the door opened I started