When Belasco was re-employed at the Baldwin Miss Neilson was acting there, in the second week of her farewell engagement, which began on June 8. On July 17 that engagement closed, and one of the brightest yet saddest of theatrical careers came to an end. Belasco, always closely attentive to his stage duties, never depended on anybody but himself to give the signals for raising and lowering the curtain, and, on that night, he “rang down” on the last performance Adelaide Neilson ever gave. The bill was the Balcony Scene, from “Romeo and Juliet,” and the play of “Amy Robsart.” In the course of the performance Belasco, after the Balcony Scene, went to assist her in descending from the elevated platform and, as she came down, she laid a hand on his shoulder and sprang to the stage,--losing a slipper as she did so. Belasco took it up. “You may keep it,” she said, “for Rosemary,”--and, says Belasco, “having thanked her I nailed it, then and there, to the wall by the prompter’s stand and there it stayed, as a mascot, for years.” Referring to that last night of her stage career, Belasco has written the following reminiscence:
“Like other stars of the day, Miss Neilson expressed a desire to give every member of her company a memento. I was waiting at the green-room door to escort her to the hotel, when she called me into her dressing-room. ’You are so weird and mysterious, and perhaps I may never see you again. Look over those things and choose something for yourself.’ On her dressing-room table she had piled all her wonderful jewels, a fortune of immense value. I remember that her maid, a little deformed woman, stood by me as I hesitated. ’Yes, to bring you luck,’ she replied and there was a faint chuckle in her throat. Rubies, diamonds, emeralds--they dazzled my eyes. I finally reached forward and picked a black pearl. I said, ’I’ll take this.’ Miss Neilson’s face turned white, and she closed her eyes. ’Oh, David, why do you ask for that?’ she cried, and I dropped it as though I had done an evil thing. ’I’m superstitious,’ she confessed. ’My trunk is full of nails, horseshoes, and the luckiest thing of all is that little black pearl. I dislike to refuse you anything, but I know you will understand.’ I hastily selected a small emerald, and with a feeling almost of temerity I left the room. All during the farewell supper that followed she would bring the conversation back to the strangeness of my choice, until I thought she would never cease, and just on my account. ’If I gave up that pearl, I shouldn’t live a month. Some one told me that, and I believe it,’ she said.