The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1889-10-26
A THEATRICAL EPISODE.
= = = Dare l say

No spirit ever brake the band
That stays him from the native land.
Where first he wall1'd when claspt in clayl
-Tennyson.
In the lives of many of "a there come
occasional periods of sotl-deadening mo-
notony, when oppressed and wearied, We
lose faith in our own better nature and APP
pear to ourselves incapable Of deep or sincere
feeling for any one or anything. AT such
times, however, we are not SO cAllous but
that we are further toriIAented by an aching
longing for some excitement, if even a pain
full one, which shall prove to Us that our
hearts and brains are only dormant and not
dead. With these Who, like myself, are
condemned by necessity TO distaSt1ful task
work, while endeayoring in a1eir spare
moments to master some art which shall
deliver them from the 1aily drudgefy, these
periods OF depression are only too frequent.
1 am young man, cursed or blessed, L
hardly know which, with | believe some
slight literary faculty, and bnrdened GER
tainly with too much ambition, | am at
tached to the staff Of a London paper, and
am alone and almost friendless in strange
city. My work supplies me, indeed, with the
wherewithal to live, but leaves me little
time or energy for independent and more
artistic creations.
Some months ngo, after long Spell of
Lard work at the office, had at last an eve
ming off. had tired myself out by added
hard work for my own ends at home; work
accomplished by delicious though exhaust
ing excitement which fear does not often
attending journalistic efforts, The newt
able recreation from all this, capped by re-
peated dlsappointments in the failure of my
mo-e artistic wares to find an appreciaiive
rablisher, had plunged me into one of my
BLACKLIST TITS of nervous depression. AT
such times one is apt to he possessed by
morbid fancies, and what | am about to re-
late may appear fantastic, yet it is an un-
embellished record of facts More than
this, it was to me an experience which at
the moment lifted me out of my miserable
self-absorption, and will remain with me
always as blessed and happy memory.
In my fits OF melancholy | generally re-
sort to the restful sanity of Shakespeare by
way of mental tonic, but tonight l was
incapable even of that. My looks and my
bright fire and comfortable arm chair had
no attractions for me. | was restless and
unhappy, unwilling to stay at home, long
ing Tor the companionship of friends far
OFT of my reach, but with no desire to seek
those near at hand, and altogether out of
humor and out of tune Finally wander
ed out OF doors determined to goto some
concert and soothe my troubled nerves with
music. At times, however, fate, or what
ever 1t may be, is too strong for the obsti-
nate will. Once out an irresistible i'm
pulse overmastered me, forcing me to give
up the concert and go and sec Macbeth.
had u vague feeling that if l resisted the
impulse should be haunted with life-l long
regret and yielded to it, not without some
mental protest, for had seen the play sew
eral times already. The interesting ques-
tions raised by the novel rendering of it at
the Lyceum had led me to go often, that
might Judge for myself between the old
and the new heroes.
of a
late arrival, l found a seat in the front row
of the dress circle, rather to one side. At
the theater often find half my amusement
in watching the effect OF the play on my
neighbors, and during the overture took
my usual glance round for interesting faces.
On this particular night, unfortunately,
there were very few to be seen. Disap-
pointed in my search turned my attention
TO the stalls, and amused myself in watch
ing commonplace, but well to do and
cheerful, family party arrange themselves
IN a stage box below me- When / locked
again at my immediate neighbors previ-
Ously vacant seat near the middle of the
instantly riveted my whole attention. Even
the few faces had thought striking before
became insignificant bes de this mans. An
unaccountable intensity of interest took
possession of me as l gazed. The pale, oval
face was curiously familiar to me, but in
W
tried to think where l had seen it before
seemed to know exactly the manner of
growth OF the thin auburn hair far back
over the forehead-that peculiar broad vet
conical forehead, towering above the arched
eyebrows and the deep lidded, musing eyes.
The color of the latter [ could not see, but
their expression, changeful as it was-now
sad, now humorous, then calm and steady
with the patience that comes from wide ex-
perience-l knew as well as l know the
faces | love best, also, and yet could think
Of no name and no locality to connect with
it! The straight nose, rather broad at the
nostrils, the short, pointed beard, the mus
tache, scarcely yelling the wise, tolerant
mouth, with its full, firmly closed lips
where could I have seen it all so often be-
fores and having seen it, how could have
forgotten the locality. | gazed and gazed
and thought and thought till my anxiety
and strange feeling of affection for this
known yet unknown face tormented me
almost to the verge of going to the strange
to ask his name.
He, meanwhile, occupied as had been a
few moments before, in glancing over the
crowd of faces around him, was quite un-
conscious of my gaze. He was man rather
over middle age, and his figure was con-
cealed in long, curiously folded cloak,
which showed only half an inch CT so of u
turned-down white collar above it. One
hand, holding the heavy, negligent folds to-
gether over his chest, was hidden; the
other, an artists hand, white and we'll
shaped, rested on his knee and grasped a
WIDE brimmed hat. His face, lined and
marred with life's bitterest struggles, and
yet serene and sympathetic, like that of one
who has triumphed over suffering, attract
ed me so powerfully that it was some time
before noticed the popularity in his Dress
and when | did it gave me no clue to his
identity
He leaned back in his seat, gazing all
round him with unobtrusive but incessant
interest. l noticed palpable look of won
der mingled with the acuteness of his glance,
and found myself specializing what so all
at in such an ordinary scene Presently his
glance travelled toward me and our eyes
met l was too interested even to wish 10
look away, and could not if | had tried. A
tremor of nervous excitement seized hold of
me. felt fascinated, forced to meet the
keen far sighted gaze that seemed searching
my very thoughts His eyes summoned me
toward him with a strange physical attrac-
ton, and in another moment should have
risen to obey his Selent call, had not the ces-
sation of the music at last distracted his at
tention. The moment his glance was with
drawn the tremor of excitement that had
felt ceased, and lost the desire to go to
him. But still l could not take my eyes
from his face, and l began to think there
must be some mesmeric power in the man
to move me on. AS long as he sat there
knew that nothing else would matter to me.
Henceforth he was in my eyes the one in
terest of the evening, and | should only care
for the play itself for the sake Of its effect
upon him.
Apparently absorbed in expectation, the
strangers attention was now fixed upon
the stage. His face was paler, and his rig
i'd, Strengthened attitude expressive of in
tense although restrained excitement.
His eyes followed the smooth, mechanical
rising of the curtain with an almost painful
interest, but when 1t disclosed the dim.
wierd landscape and stormy sky which is
the background to the first scene, his face
frightened and flushed with delighted sur
prise. Utterly oblivious of every one
around him, with sudden, rapid movement
he placed both arms on the front Of the cir
Gle, and sat leaning forward in an attitude
of rapt attention. The realistic whistling
of the wind, and the artistically managed
appearance of the witches amid thunder
and lightning, evidently pleased him great
ly, but their acting puzzled him. After the
first few moments his satiffied expression
gave place to an unmistakable look OF be-
wilderment, and for one rapid instant he
glanced away from the stage to the faces OF
some of the audience, as if trying to gather
from them clew to what he ought to
think. But they were all impassive; mild
interest was the utmost feeling they dis
ulaved, and, more puzzled still, his glance
returned to the stage. When the witches
vanished, resigned, tolerant expression,
half amused, half interested, came over his