New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1872-02-04

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married pair blessed with children, but
cursed with poverty. EnOch. with his trade
gone, and In despair for the future. encOun-
ters an old messmate, Reuben, and hearing
from him that his friend Captain Sterling is
in want OF seamen for q cruise to China, re-
solves to try his fortune on the Pacific seas,
| and takes counsel of his Annie ON the pro-
ject. He pOnders DER his plan:
ITO sell the boat-and yet he loved her we'll.
| How many rough sea had he weathered in her
He knew her as horseman knows his horse.
$50 she might keep the house while he was gone
At last. returning rich
| Become the master of a larger craft;
| With fuller profits. lead an easier life;
| Have all his pretty young ones educated,
And pass his days in peace among his own
His arguments, however, have no effect
Oil Annie, who, for the first time in her
welded life, cOmbats her husbands will;
but all to no purpose, go he must
| Keep clean hearth and clear fire for me;
Fol- I'll be back. my girl, before you know it..
And the parting interview of the faithful
pair, with the hearty salutatiOns and kind
| wishes of his friends 1.-THE entire village),
terminates the second act, Annie watching,
| Even to the last dip of the vanishing sail"
Ten long years roll by, end, at the open
| ing of the third act, we find Annie mourn
ing the loss of one child, but cOmfOrted
| and blessed by the two remaining, Esther
|
all these years no tidings of EnOch, and all
in the village. except his faithful wife, look
upon him as cast away and drowned.
Philip Ray, her sutton of olden days, has
been the friend of the family in all this time
Of doubt and waiting. of mingled hope and
disappointment, and latteriy presses his
claim to nearer title than that of friend.
The children, Walter and Esther, love him,
and call him "Father Philip" and, during a
nutting party, he urges Annie to give them
| the right to call him so.
! "Oh Annie,
| 1t is beyond all hope, against all chance,
| That he who left you ten long years ago
Should still be living.
| l fam would prove
! father to your children; do think
| They love me father.
| Perhaps you know what would have you know,
wish you for my wife,
Annie, half cOnsenting, would yet wait
awhile ere all hope be given up of EnOch's
| coming back, and new, iOinOd by the jOvial
nutters, all return home in the mellow
| autumn night.
BrOnzed, weather-stained, bearded like
| the pard, and wearied with lonely waiting
| for the never-cOming sail, we find the ship
| wrecked EnOch at the commencement OF
the fourth act, seated under a palm on one
of those lovely sea islets, fit subject for the
| poets eager pen or painters ardent pencil
In the midst of these charms Of nature.
=
| the horizon in quest of a yet more delight
| full object-thc good ship that shall bear
| him home!
We think it will be conceded that the
| highest effort of stage effect in copying
natural and beautiful scenery has been at
tanned in this rich and superb view of the
| tropical isle.
Enoch PAGES his island home, thinks sadly
| of the loved ones in England, and wonders
| if his Annie still lives
The time, however, has come for his de-
liverance, and his lonely musings are joy
ously interrupted by the apparition of
band of sailors in search of water for their
ship; broken questiOns-kindly answers
follow in quick succession: no news can
they give him of his native village, of his
wife or friends, but they can bear him back
to the white cliffs of his youthful once
more, and the act concludes with the happy
embarkatiOn of the liberated Enoch, his
heart filled with the hope of again clasping
his loved ones to his breast, and his long
exile forgotten in the blssful anticipation
of again beholding his long lost home.
The interview at the beginning of the fifth
act between Enoch and Miriam (whO does
not recognize her former friend), is almost
equal in its intensity and pathos to the
great situation in Rip Van Wrinkle, where
the old man makes himself known to his
daughter. The genius of Jefferson has
gloritied that phase of dramatic art:
and from so distinguished an actor
as Mr.. Edwin Adams we may expect
thrilling Interpretation of the touching
scene in question His fear as to the
fate of bis Annie, his heartfelt hope that
all may be well with her and with his
children; his eager inquiries, his mute
horror when Miriam, in her matter OF fact
manner, tells him that the treasured mis-
tress of his love is now the wife of another:
his agony of doubt as to his future course
in this cruel and heart-rending difficulty
his resolution in fine to crush his returning
hopes. his love and thoughts of love re-
turned; to remain still numbered with the
dead, and to leave his Annie in remOrseful
possession of her new happiness All this
constitutes one of the finest situations in
dramatic literature. and from a certain
frankness in Mr.. Adams own character
from the gravely tender cast of his mind
from what we know he has achieved in his
art, we are inclined to think that this
scene-as indeed the whole pIay-will be
perfectly and beautifully rendered. and
that the character of EnOch Arden as
enacted by Mr.. Adams will be one of his
chief claims to be considered as a cOnsum-
mate and charming actor.
Though resolving that his wife and chill
dren shall never see him as himself again,
he can not resist the temptation of once
light, steals to the house OF his unconscious
rival. and through the large bay window
his soul thrilling with the sight-he sees
wildly in the ruddv freight, the tranquil
bliss of those he loves, the assured happi-
ness OF the man he should hate, and con
trastS this picture of cententment with his
own dssolate, homeless, lOveless misery:
another wonderful dramatic position, and
here the stage transcends the book will be
proved, we think, by this charming scene.
Picture it! think of it The waste and
wilderness of life without, the paradise of
home within. The gates of that paradise to
him are barred forever. The desert of ex-
lstence alone is his, with no pleasant foun-
tain of affection to cheer its ruggedness, no
shade of friendly tree TO shield him from
desolatiOn. God help him: and God does,
for with heroic strength he turns him from
that glowing homestead, whose bright col
ors he could dash with gall and bitterness.
whose pleasant warmth he could chill at
once and forever, he turns him back to
Miriam's home to die
In the last scene of all that ends this
strange and piteous history. Enoch, in his
tast-tieeting moments he relates to Miriam
his adventures, she recognizes him for the
lost Enoch; but he swears her to secresy.
She, however, dispatches Reuben for Annie
and the rest, bidding him say that a dying
sailor Is at her house, who has brought
news of the long-lost Enoch Arden.
Annie, full of agitation, arrives, accom-
panied by the others; they surround the
dying man, who breathes his last without
knowing who are near him. As Reuben
supports his falling figure, Annie catches
sight of his face, and cries aloud-En--,
Miriam, placing her finger on her lip, looks
at the bystanders. Annie bows her head
up"n her breast, and the secret of Enoch's
return is locked up forever in the hearts of