The morning call., 1894-11-28
SAVE HER FROM HER FRIENDS.

MISS Emma Frances Dawson Is lady
of whom San Francisco is proud. She has
written poetry of high order and she has
exhibited culture above the common level.
Some of her pieces betray literary genius,
though it is evident that the authtr is still
cropping for her true place in letters. A
few Of her admirers lately had the bright
idea of giving her a public testimonial.
which might not only reflect their esteem
for her character but might put little
money in her purse. Ladies and gentle
men volunteered their services to make
the entertainment attractive, among these
being Senator Perkins, Joaquin Miller,
Miss Ina Coolbrith, Miss Irene Hardy.
Miss Adeline Knapp and others. The hall
was filed and the audience was gratitied.
But the gentleman to whom the COM
mittee had con fided the duty OF pronounc-
iEg Miss DAVIS sons Iheosis-Professor
Melville B. Anderson of Palo Alto-per-
formed his task in rather curious spiri'.
He seemed to think that the circum-
stances which suggested the entertain
ment were an opprobrium to San Fran
cisco, and that the best way of exaiting
Miss Dawson was to lower her fellow
citizens. He congratulated her on having
lived ''aboye the crush of monopoles, the
hard conmercialism. the public jvbbery
and robbery, the faint religiosity, the
parody of social elegance. the make believe
literature and art which form the strange
medley of San Francisco society,"" as if
"she were a citizen Of the stars" He
declared that "San Francisco neither reads
nor supports her poet, and thrusts her
as de with barbaric Indifference to the
things of the spirit" He has heard San
Francisco called "a Jewish city," and the
fact reminds him that Jerusalem stoned
the prophets" Very different would have
been her fate, be adds, had she lived in
London, New York or Boston. There she
would have been recognized a lone of the
mos: remarkable writer's of the day."
Without dwelling on The singular taste
of such remarks when addressed to an
audience which had gathered to do Miss
Dawson honor and to give her benefit, it
may be observed that a comparison be-
tween San Francisco ana London or the
great Eastern cities is not fair. New York
and Boston are old cities, and letters
fiourished there before San Francisco
was founded; here they have hardly
taken root yet. This city is in the conf
mercial stage; social, literary and artistic
development is only just beginning. Per-
sons who feel the divine atf1atus are un-
reasons BILE if they complain that it meets
no response in this atmosphere; they
should go to places where poetry is meT-
charitable property, and where people read
verse as we'll as market reports.
Professor Anderson scars above our
level. He talks lyrics. He speaks of Miss
Dawson as having seen the sun begin his
march thousands of times over the
Diablo Mountains and sink into the waves
hey the Golden Gate" How could she
help doing so if she sat on revolving
chair and looked out of windows? more
watcnlul thar the Iighthous e-keepers she
has registered all the refrains of the wind,
all the tones of the fog, all the moods OF
the sea-" If so, we should say that her
proper place is in the Signal Service
Bureau. But Anderson's muse gets away
with him. For ali this sweeping piano.
rama OF city harbor, Of fog-hung or sun
light ocean. of mountain-gated and island
sentineled bav, there have been few ewes
like hers" This is very fine, little Ger
man in verbiage. but still fine, When the
professor dwells on "the vague melan-
choly charm of our city contrasts" we
suppose he means the contrast between
Franklin street and the Barbary Coast /;
the melancholy inspired by the latter is
clear enough, but where does the vague
ness come in? Perhaps it arises from
srhe starlight, The moonlight and the fog."
which he defines as his poets domain"
but If Miss Dawson has lived here twenty
years, as he says, she cannot have chosen
them as an exclusive domain or her life
would have been succession of colds.
Miss Dawson is a charming writer. She
has adopted career which is honorable,
and in which she may attain fame. But
the fame will not be gilded with money.
Even in New York and Boston poets of
established rank cannot earn bread and
butter by writing verse. In this city there
is absolutely no market for poetry at any
price. To complain of the fact is like be-
wailing the slack demand for foOt-warmers
in the South Sea islands. He or she who
is cursed with the fatal gift of poetry
should sternly stife it until prosaic en-
ploymeut has been secured to keep the pot
boiling then. but not till then, should the
rein be given 10 the muse. And never
ST ould the disappointed aspirant be be-
trayed into the heart break of the old Ro-
man, "Ungrateiul country, thou shalt not
have my bonesl"