The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-08-18

p, Frequently has the question. "Why. has
Camille a play which attracted so largely
a few decades ago, been dropped almost
entirely from the stage2" been put to me.
The answer is that there is no one to-day
competent Of portraying this grandly
emotional character as has been done by
1.-THE only Camille" Matilda Agnes Heron.
It.:has. been attempted by many since
death: claimed this beautiful woman,
but her. powerful work, living in the
=: IN emories of her : -admiring surviv-
ors;- Immediately stands out so over
e whelmingly superior to any subsequent
PRODUCTIONS that the" comparison has
cried down. every imitation excepting that
<of; Clara Morris; In the course of a quarter
OF a century, no doubt, the majority of
those memories. will have died with their
possessors, and: the fact that the name of
Matilda Agnes Heron is alone identified
with the character of Camille will have
become but matter of history. Then, it
is: quite probable, the public will, be pre-
pared: 10 accept such. rendition of the hey
:day-and struggles of tile younger Dumas
Heroine :as. some ''star'E of the time shall
choose to present.
Miss Heron was indeed great artist,
possessing a very remarkable elemental
power. She had wildness of emotion, a
force Of brain, vitality in embodiment
and many indeinable magnetic qualities,
that. combined to make her exceptional
among human creatures. Those who
knew her remember her as a woman I'M
usual for personal charms-strong and
fine in. physique, with dark hair, dark
eyes, .and:a' beautiful white complexion
But more unusual for. an electric SYM
pathy of temperament that captivated
every. heart. She was never more at her
best than in Camille. She appeared in
other parts but that was the part she
always acted; and though, it is true, she
may have: refined upon her method in
after wears, she never acted it better than
al the iirst. It afforded the agohiZed and
agonizing situation which alone could
serve for the utterance of her tempestuous
nature Once, in speaking to an author
regarding play that she wished to have
written for herself, she was careful to state
that the heroine must be "a lost
woman" No doubt she knew, as every
body knows, that woman lost is not
a particle more dramatic than a woman
found; but she loved the storm and
reveled in the reckless agony of a nature
that is at war with itself. The woman
knew what it is to love, and what it is
to suffer through the truth or through
the consequences: of that awful and ire
mendous passion. When, in the first act
of Camille" she used to rush forward
and sob out the exclamation, "Respeet.
me-and in this housed" she made the
heart of every man who heard her stand
still in his bosom and when she parted
with the lover whom she never meant to
see again in this world. her agony was
so great and so real that few could look
upon its exhibition. Hers was not,
perhaps, the power Of imaeination-that
seizes upon an ideal and enables the artist
to rise out OF this actual world and embody
a creature of the poetic: brain, like Lady
Macbeth-bot hers, beyond all doubt, was
the human woman's heart, that had
sounded every depth of passion and could
embrace all possible experience of woman
in that world of love which is so essentially
ger own. And while she:was thus human
aud passionate in fiber, she was weird and
fascinating IN her individuality. All her
ways were her own; and the eyes followed