The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 9, 1902, Page 10

THE SUNDAY CALL . R W A SR TR ¥ e all love sce are rated their value as mirth pro- divine passion must never other extreme favor and they love best 3 other the highest compli~ ments. rades be- twe If you go to the Central Theater this week or any other of the fift; in the year you will find love a strong, fierce, primitive emotion, greatest of all the virtues, scorning utterly all subtlet; The hero and the heroine love each other with a constancy and earnestness that is ly surpassed by the villain’s hatred of both of them through four long acts of melodrama. At the Alcazar or the Grand Opera- house you will find still other grades. It may be either the passionate tempestuous ardor of a Sapho or a Zara, or the vola- tile, coquettish fancy of the heroine of a French farce. There is more of art and more of complexity, vut always there are the extremes. At the Columbia or the California thea- ters the stage lovers rise to higher, if more repressed, flights of fancy. Note the romantic ardor of the hero and hero- ine of the “Pride of Jennico” last week ed wooing of Charles Dal- ign of the Cross” this week. study the love scene between Viola Allen as Dolores and Don John of Austria 2 n the Palace of the is the very essence of sweet nd sounds ting even in print. father has commanded his ter to go to her room and stay there, since she has tossed a rose to the great Don John of Austria, who has just 4 from the wars of Granada, and ther sa it in his breast and looks about the bals c to see if he can find his sweetheart. T lov finally discover each other t on the sieps of the balcony to talk over old times and thelr present bl filled with alarm the while lest Dolores’ father and Don John's brother, the King, should discover them. The King has decided upon a royal alli- ance for his brother, and Dolores’ father, as a loyal follower of the King, would not have his daughter aspire higher than “an honest Spanish gentleman.” The lo ers ve evening of trouble, and fin- ally the King is thwarted and the lovers triumph. Thus goes the dialogue of this love scene. Dolores—It is true you are unchanged. Your eyes look into mine just as they used to. Don John—Why should they not unless they're changed by weary waiting. Dolores—Ah, waliting! We have not waited, 'twas but yesterday you went away—to-day you have returned. The time between was nothing, just as empti- ness to me—time vanished and forgotten. 1 thought you might be changed. They were great years for you—you gained your victorles and, with the self-same ease as once, one day, you won my heart. Don John—Was it one day? Dolores—It was one day I knew it Don John—What beauteous day? Ah, tell me. Dolores—One day I was alone, and sang all day. Wherefore this song? I asked myself. The answer was, “Don John. The answer and the song I sang both meant the same—just wordless melody, whose every tone was love. I never knew the day I did Before that time I never gained my victories 8o easy 2 vished them oveér with to has vou. Sit by me here; let me hold your hand. Where is my ring? Dolores—It is here, quite near my heart. I do not dare to wear it openly save in the aark of night. Don John—And here’s my rose—the spot- less flower you threw me. Dolores—Alas! I threw it not; I would not have dared. It was an accident. Don John—An accident? Dolores—It knew you were a hero, and fell and bowed its head. Don John—'Tis best we marry quietly. Dolores—Oh, I promise you that; I'll e — TR tremes of love in vaudeville and the legit- imate, here is a scene between Kelly and Violette at the Orpheum. Their billing and cooing is the usual stage quarrel of the varieties set to music, with much more of refinement than is usually found necessary for a rousing good vaudeville sketch, The fllctu"e is eloquent of exaggeration from the yum-yum pucker of the lips to the mock gallantry of the poses. It is the end of their sketch—the recon after the quarrel—which is executed in the words of a song they sing al- ternately and in concert. One verse and the chorus will be enough to point the moral of these contrasts. I wan’ to tell you now, I got a wite. She's de bestes’ gal ‘what was. "m goin’ to take a stroll. ys, I don’ care what you does, , you need'n’ come home. No, you need’n’ come home. 1 picked up my satchel and I went away. 1 did’'n’ think that I'd done wrong. Come back an’ seen her peekin’ thro’ de door, An’ she hollered, ““Well, so long.” oR Farewell, fare thee well, Hard thing to have your wife throw you out an’ ye! You need’n’ come home, don’t you dare to come home. Wee tots of all ages in dainty cos- tumes of shimmering fabrics are the big feature of the Juvenile Fairyland Car- nival which began last night at the Me- chanies’ Pavilion. There are nearly two hundred of them, and six of the prettiest and cleverest of the lot. shown on th page, are seen to excellent advantage in the fancy dances. cakewalks, singing minstrel shows and the little operettas. e e *“The play’s the thing” has been quoted oft and aptly. but in these d. ,ff scenic splendor and gorgeous costumes the play. er, her modiste, her milliner and her eler, would seem to be of far more im- ortance. In the columns of criticlsm of irs. Patrick Campbeil’s New York debut in “Magda” her dresses recelved the greatest attentlon, the first act gown especially. It was a powder blue satin, made with a bodice similar to that worn at the time of Marie Antoinette. The sleeves were of lace, trimmed with tiny diamonds, and the bodice was of brocaded silver and way the coronet worn by estwhile prima don- s and now leading r in “Francesca da ter furor than 2 of the coronet a Countess v Wwhen she sat £ which_Skin ago In an Italian say it is a crea poised nightly on t iful actress. h comes - r active presq will be soon. she will present & brand new play by H. J. W. Dam, the well-known Ca. a author. “Madeleine.” The story and the title part drawn on broad Walsh to run ns in every r some costumes that as dreams « s he strenuousness of modern life has 1 ly exciting thrill in Revolutio: play is starring this the heroine loads apd fires a cannon in the battle of Monmouth, and Miss Kidder executes this scene with a vim that is good for half a dozen cur- tain calls. It is a play m which the player rises transcendent. Viola Allen has just expressed a sen- timent that will be sure to create a sen- sation among the actor folk. “It may seem ungracious and ungratefui to say she says, “but to me the encore is anything but artistic. I do not intend it for a discourtesy to the public, for we all love to have our work appreciated, and I am not expressing a lack of appre- clation for public plaudits or approval. But the acknowledgment of a call invar- iably dispels the illusion created by an artist and his or her pany. We work all evening trying to forget ourselves and to impress with the characters we repre- sent; then in a moment pull down the entire creation by stepping out of the character to acknowledge the kind recep- tion of our admirers. The kind of recal I do belleve in is that of continuing tI picture, retaining the impression ‘y - continuance of the action.” aiiee Frank Worthing, the popular hero of fascinating love scenes with and Henry Miller, is still e greatest matinee favorites in He is said to have a splendid Lady Margaret,” a drama in s, freely adapted from the French by Edward Rose, in which Amella Bing- ham will inaugurate her second season as an actress-manager. . . -® Sadle Martinot is trying herself as a star for the second time and in a play that seems to be no mascot. “he ls the GILMAN - D him 2 Queen; for me, what? make no noise about it till "tis done; and them. Dolores—I think I wrote it to you first, Don John—I shall be thers. blue, which, by the w: s o Boilo et M wotos, el :irnel{‘lt all Dolores_It says—I cennot find Ihe and then you wrote it back to me again, Dolores—You will not fail? originally DAzt of & Court train of Mie Slan. o i O s othos o g THEAs g e, g P s, try as I may. love you™ seems and then it says “Come in the early even: Don John—I swear it. du Barry. When Mrs. Campbell made her last season. It i aid tha Pthis taste aha 10 s Ingered ot - Don John—What says this letter? I'd oo oma_Tou atole thet phrase from o Geqll Jooms: father will be on dutv.” “Tis then Dolores' father sppears and entrance she Wors over this gown a cloak had of the part set fire i Gadies smbe: hi e — ? - ou see. y e lovers for the nonce are separated. - _— es the rose, puts rather you speak the words than read me, ot mvetins - BOKWE L ALd KO O R, ot tho' necemte 7 contCARt T thae At rarer . NLTes UGS WILS W ie 4y sone, nd she will play it again if she~