The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 24, 1904, Page 14

THE SAN FRANCISCO: SUNDAY CALL. IFORNIA wiLL ) EX AND WIN THEE r thar a nat pok s the only v how to wear of Virginius e never azan Shy the y a lock s Overreact vini as lago; Henry Adams as Frank Ponisi as Ellen agin v Andersc odjeska es < ’ Nanc Hyke: Far Tosc Frances v. Lady Mac- beth; Mrs. Lesiie ( r in “The Heart of Maryland an as Portia, and many rs, in some part, or part last but not FOPTUNE mg his frested head fiv .hour e and sixty to point dare to let him not pres catm man to to start on c tairway ant old dis- of the ded 1ent with F as Jag vsvenor as Braban- and rre: more ha and distance and ve rolle and ath events b phot upon my s and diaic of the play of the later d in or v acquaidted, not a frequent of the Ca fornia I a weleo the visitor at fornia The enial John" Me( lough; Lawrence Barrett, who was th kind nd the cleverest of e and gifted I2dwin d by coasump- death with a jest; ncholy in the room and fun incarnated on the Barton Hill, cleverest of dra- crities; Charles R. Thorne Jr., alier of melodsama; Harry Ed- the courtly; Walter Leman, .\\'hfl t old man” all his life; Frank hose temperament was as ar- as his face: Julla Deane Hayne, greer stage tistic “divinely tall and most divinely fair”; Jean Clara Walters, conscientious and O an, as kindly a nurse she was to Juliet be- and rollicking Alice art as large almost 1bled daily after re- n room. . (he discussions there con- and new readings of Barrett and ms once an_hour r cne sen- 1. Adams declared that should the traditiona: be preserved “I it hut the Barrett were done, quickly. 1f be-all and when it de d be done well it wer the blow etc end-all, .d that it shouid read: “If it is de n it were lone 'twe well. "Twere done quickly if but this blow ceuld be the be-all and the end- all.” hey were disct ing production of * ing one day a com- ulius Caesar,” and w line of busi- 1 ven ed to outline a n ness for Mark Autony when delivering his oration. Instead of proceeding with his speech in the usual order I sug- ed at there was in Rome In tho ys§ a col tion of things not entirely similar to that existing in California camps during etection times. had been killed. Brutus with character and mighty elo- justified the homicide and people. Feeling perfectly aining opposition Brutus mining Caesar his high yuence has >d the » and dist pac nted that Mark Antony might in de of Caesar, and did nsider Mark of sufficient conse- auence even to stop and hear him. Mark Antony mounts the forum. He recognized as a friend of Cacsar and an opponent of the noble Brutus and with murmurs of dissent the populace commenced to move away. “Friends,” says- Antony, and they heed him not. ‘Romans,” he ecri and they continue to depart. “Countrymen, lend me your ears,” he pleads, and the people still leave. Then he launches his final ad- jurations. He either has to lie or else lose his audience and he shouts, “I come to bury Caesar not to praise him."” Thus assured those who were moving —4 HOW BUSY OUGHT ONE TO BE age presents con- the spectacle of multi- of overbusy, overworked and women. Most Amer- because of an influence in their the atmosphere, or in both, do something, and usually something th while. Moreover of ) late, distinguished leaders in various | @epartments of thought and action, tudes men WG | from our strenuous President down, have to redeem the time. Buch ¢ om such sources has borne, is ing fruit But the American tendency also is toward extremes, and so it comes about that the world to-day is full of people who have undertaken a little more than they can effectively accomplish. They are so busy all the time that when they are politely asked to pay this so- ’ cial call, to assume that responsibility \ in the church, to show up at the cau- 3 cus, to lend a hand in pushing some ¥ B orthy but struggling enterprise, their / excuse uniformly is “too busy.” And there’s often a suggestion of irritation mic reply. Now there are certain righteous lim- itations to the various businesses which a manmay undertake.. In the first place, he has no right to be so busy as to ignore or trifie with the little cour- tesies of life. When a man is so ab- sorbed in his own scheme that he can- not utter a cheery good-morning to the family and to every member of it, when he is so wrapped up jn his buy- ing and selling or in his professional problem that he never stops to say “thank you,” when even a social infe- rior renders him a personal service— why, that man is altogether too busy. He ought at once to begin to rearrange his programme with a view to making room for the small but indispensable civilities to human intercourse, I know an eminent minister who, while he never disregards the dccencles of polite society, seems always in too great hurry even to pass the time of day with you. And what is it that leads people to sign their letters “Yours hastily.” What a revelation that is of a hurried, perturbed existence. It would take no more time to sign it “Yours truly,” and the recipient would as a rule, entertain more respect beth for the letter and the sender of it. No man has a right to be so busy as to fail to cherish a helpful interest in somebody else. Most Americans loolc well to their families and surely their first opligation is to them. But one’s affections and sympathies ought not to stop there. There are often homes less well provided than yours with the comforts of existence. Get an interest in some black lad in a school in the South, or in some street gamin who occasionally frequents a boys’ club or a social settlement. If every busy man, if every business man should become warmly, persistently interested in some one needy person, how much faster this old world would 8o on. Once more: No man ought to be so busy as to neglect the culture of his soul. This phrase may sound like cant, but however thoughtlessly it may be used in the pulpit or out of it, it stands for a great reality. For a human be- 4ng made in the image of God to for- get the divine spark in him which dif- ferentiates him from the brute is in the long run folly and madness, THE PARSON, away paused and those who had gone returned and then as the text shows, Antony gradually and adroitly turned the tide ag2inst the assassins. My suggestion was adopted and the innovation was a success, though its adoption was not helped by a satirical remark of Bishon that he knew of an audience at Utica, N. Y., which was in the same way switched over to female suffrage by a speech from Mark An- tony's sister—Susan B. Anthony. The boys tried to induce me to play Mark Antony for Edwin Adams' bene- fit. Adams was about to depart for Australia, and, under medical advice, was to go in a sailing vessel. McCul- lough urged me to take the part.of the itoman, and said to Bishop, “If he will do so it will bring to Ned Adams a iarger audience. Don't you think so, ¢ hsulev ?" and Charley's answer was I it will cause to be thrown upon stage a supply of vegetables large =nough to stock the ship for the voyage. Why he might play Mark Antony bet- ter than Forrest could have done, and don’t you know that his political foes would delight at the change fo get even for some of his sneeches, uund every Democrat in the gallery would come vith pockets bulging with potatoes and parsnips to throw at him I declined to encounter ity, this possibil- but some vears afterward, fired b} an na success as member of a local dramatic society, exagge: ports of which had reac E T was induced by Tom cisco, play “Richelieu” at Baldw Theater. he house was packed with the elite of San Francisco, and T was called before the curtain at the close of every act. But it did nct fool me. I Atlnnu[f‘d lhe large audience to curi plause to generosit reneat the nerformance. James O curtain fell, action at the close of the fourth act yeu violated all the stage traditions? When Richelieu sar's to Baradas, ‘Be- to 10 me know the after that in your hind thee headsman,’ he al- ways er to right center and shakes his finger in the face of Baradas. But you never moved; you stood like a stoughton bottle on a mantelniece. Did vou think that it was undignified for a al to walk down the stage, and would be 1nore effective to do ing at long range?” said I, “I know all about The trouble was with my pantaloons. I removed my vest and coat in the dressing-room and put on the Cardinal’s robe, which covered me from neck to feet. I wore no sus- penders, and when I delivered the curse of Rome the stran of my pantaloons burst and they fell about my ankles. 1 had to stand just there where they fell. If 1 had attempted to go down front i bad either to step out of my pantaloons or drag them trailing after me. Now it would not have looked well for a Lord Cardinal to leave his breeches in the middle of the stage as a souvenir and defy Baradas sans culotte, would it?” Jimmy said that under the clrcum- stances my stage business was quite right. I notice that one of Lawrence Bar- rett’s daughters is on the stage. I won- der if it s the one whose childish ex- periences as a dramatist and actress her father once related to a little com- pany of us who in the ’70's assembled at a dinner at Marchand’s, in San Fran- cisco. The little one was allowed to celebrate her tenth birthday after her own fashion, and she organized her companions into a company to present a dramatic composition of her own. There were to be no grown people in the cast or in the production or at the rehearsals, or to be allowed to read or criticize the play, in the writing of which Miss Barrett had a free hand. ‘The rear parlor was turned into a stage with real scenery. The front par- lor was seated and lighted and pro- vided with an orchestra and on the A3 -He is coming. CO”GZCtiOflS \ R@:f]é:Cth omas Fitchl/Z Among the Players. night of the performance a hundred ladies and gentlemen assembled to wit- ness the'first and last and oniy rendi- tion of “The Husband's Return.” The first act opened with a wedding festival In New England and the dialogue was delightful, for the intonations and grammar of the Yankee were pre- terved. . At the close of the act, after an old-faghioned country dance, the brigegroom, a precocious boy of 10, bade farewell to his br 'T- go,” said he, “as was agreed between us at our betrothal, even from this hymeneal altar to the distant land of gold. There amid the pine-clad mountains of Cali- fornia will I seek and win fortune for thee, my peauteous Clarissa Ara- minta,” “Go, darling Augustus Aure- lus, my husband,” replied the blush- ing bride, “It is hard to part with thee, but go where duty calls thee. In thy absence I will upbuild and beau- tify our home, and on thy return I will welcome thee. Go!” And the curtain fell amid prolonged applause. There was a supposed interval of three years between the first and sec- ond acts. The curtain arose upon & scene on the Yuba River. Miners and Indlans and Chinamen were mixed up together. There was a quarrel and a duel with knives, during which the husband befriended 2 miner who was stabbed, but who!lived long enough to bestow upon our hero his accumulation of golden nuggets. The third and last act represented the husband’s return. The wife is dis- covered reading a letter from the ab- sent one. At jts conclusion she ex- claims: “He should be here ere now. I hear his footstep on the tgch. My own Adolphus Kurellus - ~ is here.” with boots reaching above his kneem He drops upon the stage a huge sack and after a most dramatic and meeting the lady exclaims: “What hast thou here?” He opens the sack and tumbles upon the stage three enor- mous nuggets or rather boulders of gold, which, if they had not been mads of gilded cork, would have weighed about 500 pounds. “For three long, weary years I have been away from thee, toiling for wealth. I have never for an instant been idle and this is the result. Behold, our fortune.” “'Tis welcome, indeed,” replied the wife, “but not more Welcome to ms than my gifts will be to thee. During the long years thou hast been toiling for gold I have been laboring to up- build our home. I, too, have never for an instant been idls. Theu shalt ses the result. Behold our family!™ And from the rear entrance enter Lucy, arrayed in a nurse’s cap, carry- ing an infant in her arms and with two little tots clinging to her gown. Tab- leau—the returned husband—left cen- ter—raises his arms in frantic joy, the wife—right center—stands with one arm akimbo and with the other “points with pride” at her family, the orchutr} plays “Johnny Comes Marching Home' and the audlience is in convulsions of laughter. Among the leading actors in Califor- nia at an early day was J. H. War- wick. He left the stage for politics, and in 1863 was a member of the Cali- fornia Legislature. He played Claude Melnotte and kindr>d characters ex- ceedingly well. He understood the art of claquering, and ¢n the closing night of his engagement always arranged to be called before the curtaln, where he delivered a short speech, eulogized the town and its people and declared that And thereupon enters Adol- phus Aurelius clad in red miner’s shirt embrace ”‘% , "1 MAVE NEVER F9R AN INSTANT BEEN \OLE AND THIS 'S THE RESULT BEROLD OUR FORTUNE " he intended at the close of his profes- sional career to become a resident and leave his ¥ones there. He played a short engagement at Marysville at a most unfortunate time. It poured every night and the audi- ence was not there and those who did come were dull, damp and dispirited and there was a hole in the Warwick exchequer into which a brick block might have tumbled. But in response to a few poor voices which cried “Warwick” when the curtain fell the actor appeared in fromt, bmved and was about to retire when an'unthink- ing man on one of the front benches cried, “Oh, Warwick, you forgot about your bones.” Warwick turned and faced his tor- mentor. “Thank you, my friend,” said he. “You are right. I did forget to mention that when I am about to die I shall come to this town to leave my bones. I shall do this because I feel that I could pass from the world here with less regret than in any other place on earth.”