Volume II: Filmography

LUCILE .

Parts 1 and 2

August 27, 1912 (Tuesday)

Length: 2 reels

Character: Drama

Director: Lucius J. Henderson

Scenario: Lloyd F. Lonergan from Owen Meredith's poem

Cast: Marguerite Snow (Lucile), James Cruze (Lord Alfred), Florence LaBadie (Matilda), William Russell (Duc de Luvois), Mignon Anderson (Constance), William Garwood (Richard), Ethyle Cooke

Notes: 1. Part 3 of Lucile was released on August 30, 1912. 2. The film was originally announced as a two-reel feature, with both reels to be released on August 27, 1912. In the August 24, 1912 issue of The Moving Picture World, an advertisement indicated that the film had been expanded to three reels. However, the Thanhouser Company could not expand its "allotment" in the Film Supply Company schedule for Friday, and the third reel had to be held over until August 30, 1912. 3. Much advance publicity was given to the film, and in these notices it was spelled with three L's, as Lucille. Then it was noticed that Owen Meredith's poem, from which the story had been drawn, had its title spelled as "Lucile," and subsequent advertisements bore the correct spelling. 4. A scene from the film was used as the cover illustration on the August 17, 1912 issue of The Moving Picture News. 5. Note in the "Music for the Picture" column conducted by Clarence E. Sinn in The Moving Picture World, September 28, 1912, concerning musical accompaniment for the film: "Charles S. Offenberg, pianist at the Coliseum Theatre, Toledo, Ohio, writes: 'Dear Sir - I take pleasure in sending a musical program for the three-reel Thanhouser feature film Lucile as presented at the Coliseum Theatre, Toledo, to a most appreciative audience of over 8,500. Hope that same will be instrumental in encouraging and aiding pianists to give this "silent drama" an appropriate musical accompaniment. Yours very truly.'" Then follows his suggestion for six melodies for the first reel, eight for the second, and three for the last. 6. An expanded story by Raymond L. Schrock, based on the plot of the film, appeared in The Photoplay Magazine, September 1912.

BACKGROUND OF THE SCENARIO: Lucile, published in 1860, was one of many poems published by Owen Meredith, the nom de plume of Edward Robert Bulwer-Lytton (1831-1891), the first Earl of Lytton. The son of Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, he was educated at Harrow and Bonn, after which he pursued a successful career as the Viceroy of India. He wrote many volumes of verse, of which the earlier were published under the Owen Meredith pseudonym. He considered himself a failure as a poet, but his contemporaries considered his work meritorious. Among the more forgettable lines in Lucile are these: "We may live without poetry, music, and art; / We may live without conscience, and live without heart; / We may live without friends, we may live without books; / But civilized man cannot live without cooks."

SYNOPSIS, The Moving Picture World, August 24, 1912:

"PART ONE: Lucile, the Comtesse de Nevers, was engaged to a nobleman, Lord Alfred Vargrave. Being deeply in love, Lucile did not conceal her affection, and her attentions finally wearied Lord Alfred, and he neglected his fiancée. They quarreled finally, and separated, but not until Alfred had vainly attempted a reconciliation. Lucile told him that she was afraid to trust him but proposed a year's separation. Before the year was over the Comtesse received word of the engagement of Lord Alfred to Miss Darcy, whereupon she wrote him asking the return of her letters, which in accordance with his pledge, he was to bring to her personally. Alfred obeyed and started for Lucile's home with the missives. Upon his arrival he was amazed to see how beautiful Lucile was, and how much other men admired her. His old affection returned and he pleaded with her to forgive him. Lucile refused to listen to him. He managed, by watching her, to meet her presumably by accident, and gained her consent to accompany her. On the road they encountered a furious summer storm and took refuge in a cave. Lucile, whose one dread was of lightning, was hysterical from terror, and did not repulse Alfred when he clasped her in his arms. She consented to forgive her recreant lover.

"PART TWO: The Duc de Luvois had long vainly courted Lucile. His jealous eyes soon noted that the man who stood in his way was Lord Alfred, and as the latter left the house, the Duc drew a revolver, determined to kill him. The brave Lucile noted the action, threw her arms about him, and pinned him fast. Alfred looked around at this moment, just in time to see, as he imagined, his Lucile embracing another man. Deciding that she was false, he waited not for explanations, but hurried to the home of Miss Darcy, and they were promptly wedded. The Duc returned sadly to his castle, while Lucile, weary of the world, sought refuge in a nunnery. Twenty-five years later, Lord Alfred, happy in the affection of his devoted wife and child, now grown to manhood, had forgotten the sadness of his youth. The Duc had remained unmarried, but into his lonely life one ray of sunshine had penetrated. This was the daughter of his dead sister, a girl of sixteen. With her he visited England, as he felt his life of seclusion would not be a happy one for the young girl. In England, Lord Alfred's son and the Duc's niece met, and promptly lost their hearts. When Lord Alfred learned of his son's affections, he placed no obstacle in the path of his only child's happiness. He felt no animosity toward the Duc, simply feeling that, although they had been rival suitors at one time for the hand of Lucile, the past should now be buried and forgotten. But the Duc, feeling that it was he who lost him Lucile's love, never forgave. When he learned his niece wished to marry the son of his ancient enemy he refused absolutely to sanction the union. The Duc, a French general, and Alfred's son, a lieutenant in the English army, were shortly called to the front.

"PART THREE: Lord Alfred's son was wounded, and being carried to the hospital tent, was nursed tenderly by Lucile. The young soldier had no desire to live, knowing that he could never wed the girl of his choice. Lucile gradually learned from him the cause of his secret sorrow, and going to the Duc entreated him for the memory of the love he once bore her, not to make desolate the life of his young niece as her love had been made desolate. The Duc was finally won over, and the young lovers reunited, while Lucile returned to her convent."

REVIEW, The Bioscope, November 14, 1912:

"Out of Owen Meredith's poem, the Thanhouser Company have evolved a drama of more than ordinary interest, including many highly dramatic situations, amongst which is a representation of the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava. The play opens with a lover's quarrel between Lord Alfred and Lucile, and the early scenes show how, having, in a fit of pique, entered into a flirtation with the heiress, Miss Darcy, Lord Alfred is requested by Lucile to return the letter he has previously received from her. During the interview at which this is effected, Lord Alfred's feelings for Lucile are revived, and as her affections for him have suffered no change, their engagement is renewed. This awakens the jealousy of another suitor, the Duc de Luvois, who is tempted to shoot Lord Alfred. He is only prevented by the entreaties of Lucile, and these being misconstrued by her lover, he returns to Miss Darcy, whom he eventually marries, while Lucile seeks consolation in a convent. Years later Lord Alfred's only son, Richard, falls in love with Constance, the niece of the Duc de Luvois. The Duc, who still entertains feelings of animosity towards Lord Alfred, refuses his consent to their marriage, and Richard goes off to the Crimea, where, taking part in the charge of the Light Brigade, he is seriously wounded, and nursed back to health by Lucile, now a sister of mercy, who is instrumental in reconciling her two former suitors, and so bringing about Richard's ultimate happiness.

"As adapted to the film, a strong and interesting drama is the result, and is made the most of by a very efficient company, the part of Lucile being particularly well treated. The surroundings are picturesque in the extreme, and many of the scenes are of great beauty. The costumes of the early part of the play are tasteful and becoming, but that the costumes of 1820 are picturesque is hardly a justification for continuing to wear them in 1854. This is hardly balanced by the fact that the uniforms worn in the Crimea are rather obviously of a later period. But whatever their uniforms, the behaviour of the regiment is quite up to tradition, and the exciting incidents of the famous charge are admirably reproduced. This is only one of many dramatic scenes of which the play is full, and the final picture of Lucile alone in her convent cell brings an interesting story to a very beautiful conclusion."

REVIEW by Gordon Trent, The Morning Telegraph, August 18, 1912:

"Thanhouser's three-reel production of Owen Meredith's poem, Lucile, is a wonder. I had the pleasure of viewing it at the Film Supply Company's projection room, and it is a sure winner as a feature offering. The firm is rushing offerings out at a fast clip, and their three-a-week programme is retaining the high standard established from the commencement of the releases."

REVIEW, The Morning Telegraph, September 1, 1912:

"Owen Meredith's world-known poem of Lucille [sic] is treated in a wholly delightful way in this photoplay production. The story is so well known that its repetition is needless. The theme of the poem is followed as closely as possible and there is little left to the imagination, for the plot is easily followed from beginning to end. In costumes, scenes, both interior and out of doors, it is exceedingly well made. It is splendidly acted and the photography is as clear and sharp as could be desired. Little bits of stage business are carefully done, as in the writing of a letter, which is folded and sealed as was done in the days before the invention of the envelope. An exterior, beautiful and appropriate, shows a door which is closed after the people exit or enter, though the interior scene, supposedly from the inside of this doorway, shows a French windowed entrance open all of the time. Few, however, might note such a slight discrepancy. In the cast of the three reel offering are Marguerite Snow as Lucille, James Cruze as Lord Alfred, Flo LaBadie as Matilda, William Russell as the Duke, William Garwood as Richard and Mignon Anderson as the niece. For a feature production it reflects the highest credit on the makers, the director and the players. It will be enjoyed wherever shown."

REVIEW by Margaret I. MacDonald, The Moving Picture News, August 17, 1912:

"Of the recent pretentious productions attempted by the Thanhouser company, the one of Owen Meredith's story of Lucile, is, in the writer's mind, the best and most flawless in general contour. The story of Lucile lends itself beautifully to the motion picture production. It has all that appeals to the human heart - tense dramatic situations, sweetness and simplicity, and an old-fashioned atmosphere about it that suggests quaint old engravings that have been stowed away in the attic for generations. Although the story of Lucile is thoroughly familiar to the bookworm, there may be some among our readers who cannot answer to that name, and for their benefit it might be well to give a brief outline of the story. It is also interesting to know that Owen Meredith, the writer of Lucile, was a son of the famous Bulwer-Lytton, and that, being unwilling to learn his laurels through the reflection of the literary genius of his ancestor, was known only as Owen Meredith until such time as he won fame through the success of Lucile... Much credit is reflected in this production on the work of all the participants, but perhaps more particularly upon Miss Snow, whose work is exceptionally fine. Miss Anderson is refreshingly sweet, and Miss LaBadie is always charming."

REVIEW by Louis Reeves Harrison, The Moving Picture World, August 24, 1912:

"There are many delightful surprises in this beautiful play, but the last reel captures us with an unexpected movement when we are completely off our guard. The spirited scenes there depicted fall upon and suddenly imprison us by a 'tour de force' that is a splendid example of military action. Such soldiers in what has all the appearance of actual warfare! Such magnificent horses in the cavalry maneuvers, dashing into the thick of fight without swerving from the bomb explosions! It does not seem to be a moving picture of prearranged military strategy, but a view of the real thing. It is battle. The play is lovingly adapted from a narrative poem published a half century ago by the Earl of Lytton, 'Owen Meredith,' and is a veritable restoration. So far as I am concerned the distinguished author has always seemed overshadowed by a still more distinguished father, and the noted Bulwer-Lytton, but Lucile shines forth as the gem of his early conceptions. Its restoration to the modern world in pictured form by Thanhouser is so delicate in finish and complete in detail that I dare say that the work was a labor of love. The increasing political power and intelligence of those who frequent the moving picture theatres has been so often manifested during my recent observations that I am constrained to believe most people know and care a great deal about the quality of presentation, and, if there still remain a number who do not know or care, it is part of the exhibitor's responsibility to educate the lower element while catering to the best class of patrons who attend the picture shows.

"Here is the story of a woman's sweet unselfishness and noble magnanimity - the theme entirely modern - which represents characters of good red blood and questions of moment, amid highly picturesque views of other times and customs than our own, and it is superior to small, silly and temporary aspects of life as we know it. It has a dainty flavor of old-time romance pervading its manners, costumes and settings that is like a whiff of perfume from an old jar of rose leaves. It will please millions who enjoy any form of entertainment that appeals to good taste and enjoy it in a quiet and refined way, the ones who can afford to come often, who keep aloof because of vapid and spineless productions of commercialism pure and simple.

"The types are all well chosen; the acting of the principals is so consistent that the picture should please in France and England quite as well as at home, the actress who portrays the title role being especially strong in emotional situations. The cast in Part One is as follows: Lucile - Marguerite Snow, Lord Alfred - James Cruze, Matilda - Flo LaBadie, Duc de Luvois - William Russell. Lord Alfred receives a letter from Lucille stating that she has heard that he is to marry Matilda, a young heiress known as Miss Darcy, and that it is time for them to return certain love letters exchanged before they 'parted as friends, soon mere strangers to grow.' Each had made a pledge at this parting to return to the other the pictures and letters given before the quarrel that parted them. Lucile is at Luchon, one of the most beautiful sights in the Pyrenees, and there Lord Alfred rides to restore the pledges of love. The exterior where he meets her in the midst of adoring friends and is presented to her suitor, Monsieur le Duc de Luvois, is one of rare beauty in itself and gives a sweeping glimpse of distant mountains that is very attractive. It cannot, however, give more than a faint indication of what is in the heart of the woman - the poet, only, can do that - and more is the pity, Lord Alfred is manly enough as such men go, but is incapable of appreciating that a woman's beauty is more than skin deep, that her form is the stem and her face the flower of the soul - the soul that may fade is sorrow, yet bloom again and again in ever-renewed loveliness. He symbolizes unenlightened MAN. She is inscribed by 'George [sic] Meredith' as one of a type now becoming familiar, a woman whose high intellectuality and lofty aspirations accentuate her endowment of natural beauty, the one who usually loves most and suffers deepest, the one who learns another's woe and hides the pain she feels.

"To shelter her heart

From approach, she then sought in that delicate art

Of concealment, those thousand adroit strategies

Of feminine wit, which repel while they please

A weapon, at once, and a shield to conceal

And defend all that woman can earnestly feel.

"Had her life been but blended

With some man's whose heart had her own comprehended

All its wealth at his feet would have lavishly thrown

For him had she struggled and striven alone;

For him had aspired; in him had transfused;

All the gladness and grace of her nature; and used

For him only the spells of its delicate power.

"Even when the stage actress indulges in soliloquy it is difficult to penetrate the heart and conscience of a character, yet this is one of the highest delights of the drama affords. In the picture play the opportunities of character portraiture are more limited and more subtle. It is only by significant action, artful gesture and facial expression that personality is made to emerge from its cave of solitude and stand forth in full view of human perception. The entrancing twilight realms of Lucile's soul are not all explored in the impersonation of Marguerite Snow, but the character becomes wonderfully effected in the important scenes. Lucile exerts a powerful fascination, that of refined intelligence, upon Duc de Luvois, firing him to desperate measures, and causes Lord Alfred to promptly regret his shabby conduct. After the exchange of letters is made, he meets Lucile while riding through the forest; they are driven to shelter in a storm, and he falls in love all over again. He becomes pledged to two women at the same time. Circumstances bring the impetuous Duc de Luvois knowledge that Lucile is about to throw herself away upon the fickle Englishman and he is about to put the latter where he can no longer torture the heart of the women when Lucile intervenes.

"In the pictured version, Lord Alfred sees Lucile and the Frenchman in an attitude of intimacy - he becomes clasped in his arms while taking away his pistol - and this leads to another change of heart. Lord Alfred marries the rich and pretty Miss Darcy. Luvois, his case hopeless, retires to his castle. Lucile consecrates her life to the church. After many years Monsieur le Duc adopts Constance, the young and attractive daughter of his sister, and takes her out into the world of society long renounced because of his true-hearted devotion to Lucile. Constance meets Richard, a young officer who is the son of Lord Alfred and Matilda. These new characters in Part Two are thus cast: Constance - Mignon Anderson, Richard - William Garwood. We are now presented with a familiar situation. Constance and Richard fall in love, deeply and passionately, only to learn that their union will not be permitted because of a bitter enmity of the guardian of one and the father of another. The lovers are bodily separated and Richard goes away to the Crimean War then being waged in the Danubian Principalities between Russia, on one hand, and the allied forces of Great Britain and France on the other. The Duc de Luvois responds to the call and meets Richard.

"Enduring and dying, Gaul and Briton abreast,

Where the towers of the North fret the skies of the East.

"In a splendid cavalry charge Richard goes down.

"Thus fighting he fell

On the red field of Inkerman; found, who can tell

By what miracle, breathing, though shattered, and borne

To the rear by his comrades, pierced, bleeding and torn,

Where for long days and nights, with the wound in his side,

He lay, dark. But a wound deeper far undescried

In the young heart was rankling; for their, of a truth,

In the first earnest faith of a pure pensive youth,

A love large as life, deep and changeless as death,

Lay ensheathed. Lives there are though in love,

Which cling to one faith, and die with it; nor move,

Though earthquakes may shatter the shrine.

"Richard is carried to a town and there has a vision of a pale woman who administers silently cheering him and changing the aspect of all things about him. When he recovers full consciousness it is defined that she knows who he is, and she bears none of the malice in her heart that has characterized the relations of her two suitors all these years. She nurses the young soldier and encourages him during his waking hours and weeps over him while he sleeps. He is the image of the one she loved. When she comes to know his story, she is all compassion and tenderness, and she it is that gives him the reason to live. She brings him from the shadow of death that he may be united to the woman he loves, and she carries her noble mission to the end in a spirit of high unselfishness, reunited those who have been made unhappy by the clash of their baser passions, assuaging a mother's anguish, lifting the cloud of a father's despair, dreading loving hearts in supreme happiness, only to become a pale nun once more, mute and suffering, yet glorious in the power of her love for humankind. The poet's own characterization of Lucile is:

"A power hid in pathos; a fire veiled in cloud;

Yet burning outward; a branch which, though bowed

By the bird in its passage, springs upward again,

Through all symbols I search for her sweetness in vain.

Judge her love by her life! Our life is but love

In act. Pure was hers, and the dear God above -

Led her soul into peace.

"Her nature was like a stream

That breaks its heart over wild rocks toward the shore

Of the great sea which hushes it up evermore."

REVIEW, The New York Dramatic Mirror, August 21, 1912: This review is reprinted in the narrative section of the present work.

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