San Francisco dramatic review (1899)

December 16th, 1899 THE SAN FRANCISCO DRAMATIC REVIEW I Impressions of Camille U AMlk '"There are * some things one becomes a happy sharer in, yet can't hand on. I am thinking of J the simple gladness of Camille D'Ar , ville. Yon must talk with her and laugh with her to know it, for nobody's else explanation will make it contagious. Her senses are all alive to the pleasing, as birds are happy because the leaves are green and the sun warm. Just under the fifth rib beats a great big something that will keep her joyous until the last lullaby is sung, and young, though the years she have be multiplied by three. The world is several times larger to her than to most people, for she has learned the great secret of letting her full nature come out — of giving to the limit of her sympathetic strength. You who have listened to her sing perhaps know what I mean. When she steps upon the stage she starts a wave of joy and makes it vibrate to the farthest limit of the audience. "O Promise Me" finds us all willing, and one of these fine nights, when the wind is high and cool and our spirits are up, we shall forget ourselves and call out, " Why certainly — of course — anything — just mention it." The man who fancies himself pointed at with one of her including gestures is the most complacent fellow in the audience and if I could have divided the roses she gave me, with the owners of the eyes that coveted them, the story of the loaves and fishes would have been nowhere. Her expressions and gestures are not brain-spun Delsarte affairs but are left, for the most part, she says to the inspiration of the moment — and it never fails her. The new is ever inspiruig, but to throw inspiration into the old is what counts and we have all heard her do that. With the first bar of the prelude she forgets everything but the song — and sometimes she forgets that. " Gracious! '' she said as she came off, "did you hear the wonderful words I made up for Lulu as I went along? I've been saying them over for a week too. It's high time I knew them don't you think? " Courtesy suggested my temporizing a bit, but I promptly told her it was — high time. I was rewarded with such a jolly quizzical little smile that I am much encouraged to tell the truth every little while. In fact, truth was rampant for she said San Francisco had a lovely climate for bronchitis. "Why did I go on the stage? Because I loved it. Yet, had I known the terrible knocks the heart would get before the top was reiched legitimately, I should have taken in plain sewing or gone a-governessing. When I d;d reach the top, it was too late to get any happiness out of it." She thought she was telling the truth — about its being too late for happiness, I mean, but the very words were followed with the verse of a new song she was learning, because her heart was full of the melody and she wanted someone to share the joy of it. "A San Francisco audience," she continued, "gave me the most glorious feeling I have ever had since I went on the stage. It was at the old Baldwin Theater with the Bostonians. I had missed a train and could not possibly reach the stage before nine o'clock. Mr. Barnabee explained the situation and said, 'Shall we put on the second prima donna or wait for Miss D'Arville ?' Wait for D'Arville ! they called, and when I came they gave me a greeting I shall never forget. It was minutes before I could swallow the sob in my throat and go on with the part.1' "From here? Well, I'm supposed to go south, to Los Angeles, but unless I am rid of this cold, I shall not go there or anywhere. They'd all say "Why, of course, you might have known it. D'Arville has lost her voice. That's why she has forsaken opera." "One of the New York papers said I was the only live dog in vaudeville — that all the others had gone into it when the bark in them was feeble from time and strain. I can't bark up to my reputation with a cold, so I must see to its cure." By this time the make-up was all off and she sat down cool and clean and fluffy, in her dainty dressing room. I took a square look, trying to fasten some years upon her, but for the life of me I couldn't. I guess she was doing her twelve times and cutting paper dolls about the time that Kipling's first ballad was a-rhyming on the sly. The tables were shaky but the paper dolls were all right ! "Whatever are we coming to?" said a gray-beard I passed in the aisle, "when even D'Arville sings coon songs ?" Excuse me, old man, she sings negro melodies and the gap between the two is wide enough to sprawl over. Jessie Bartlett Davis wants her to join forces and go into opera again, but if I were she I think I wouldn't do it. It is so much easier not to. Charlotte Thomtson. T. Daniel Frawley has secured the coast rights from David Belasco of The Heart of Maryland, and will produce this powerful and popular play at the California Theater the middle of January. The Heart of Maryland ought to run for three weeks to crowded houses. Lederer'9 Qnintonica for falling hair.