Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1904-09-01
DISENCHANTED
[original.l

ST. Cyr, Lne great actor, as soon as
heard 1t. Soon after, my fance, George
Marsh, took me to see him play.
st. Cyr took the part of civil engi-
neer upon whose management rested a
great enterprise. The thoughtful ex-
preston of his face, his noble brow,
his massive head, were all we'll fitted
to the part. He was not only "star' in
name, but in reality. The whole play
hung upon him.
sighed when l left the theater.
Cyril st. Cyr and George Marsh-there
was as much difference in the men as
in the names. George was good fell
low, had been graduated with honors
at college and was gentleman, but he
was not Cyril st. Cyr.
Within two weeks had seen st. Cyr
play three times. While Georges pho
| tograph, prettily framed, decorated my
dressing case st. Cyr's was in my
| handkerchief case, where no eye but
mine ever saw it and from which I
took it many times during the day and
every night before going to bed to gaze
on it rapturously. Week after week
Cyril st. Cyr grew more splendid; week
after week George Marsh more COM
monplace. 1t was plain to me that.I had
made mistake. l was of an artistic
temperament, and George was bust
ness man. With me the world was art,
not business; with George it was bust
ness, not art, and when he claimed
that the two were incompatible men
toned st: Cyr and the money he coined
every night
One evening my dream received a
shock. At dinner several people were
discussing the great actor.
Everything about him." said lady,
lis artistic, even to his name"
"His name?" said one of the men.
"St- Cyr isn't his name. He's Thomas
Bganagan Murphy"
1 gave a gasp and looked for some
one to refute the statement as a base
allegation, but no one seemed to think
there was anything improbable or un-
usual in it. When I looked at my
treasure that night I put it back into
my handkerchief case disappointed.
There were the same noble expression,
lofty brow and massive head, but
sgemehe2w they did not fit Thomas Bran
agan Murphy.
One evening George came in hurried
~ and asked me to get ready at once
to go to the theater. He had made the
acquaintance of st. Cyr, and we were
| to go behind the scenes. few up
stairs and down again, my heart throb-
bling like kettledrum.
We were at the theater half an hour
or more before the play began and
went directly to the stage door. We
were admitted on Georges sending in
| card and asked to come to Mr.. st.
Cyr's dressing room. At the door we
were given chairs while some one was
inside with the actor. The door was
open, and we could hear what was
said.
II have considered your proposition
to write me up" said the sonorous
voice Of st. Cyr, "and accept it pro-
vided you permit me to do the writing
myself. Here is what have written:
"'Cyril st. Cyr, the greatest living
actor, owes his success to his natural
adaptation for his work. There is moth
ing artificial about him. In private life
he is the character Of the modest,
brainy engineer he personates' p
heard no more Of this, which was
already sufficient to destroy my dream
Of that sublime modesty / had seen in
my adored one. I fancied George was
watching me and took out my hand
kerchief to conceal blaze in my
cheeks, muttering something about a
"stuffy" atmosphere. Presently man
came out, folding up paper, and hur-
ried away. Another came to the door
and said in St Cyr's voice:
Come in, Mr.. Marsh. I have FIVE
minutes before begin to Dress"
I This wasn't st. Cyr. 1t couldn't be
st. Cyr. st. Cyr was god. This man
was as ordinary creature as ever
saw. The noble brow was bald
dome; the massive head was the shape
Of football; the ears stuck out like
those of an ape. His body was thick;
his legs were thin. He was Murphy.
will never call him ST. Cyr again. He
put out big red hand to me, then
handed me a seat and said to George:
you won't mind If make up my
head and face, will your"
George assured him that we would
not, and, sitting on stool before q
mirror, he put on whole head, hair
and all, slipped springs over his ears
then covered his pug nose with Ro.
man. This done, he took up paint
brushes and began to blend the arti.
fetal with the natural. AS he worked
he talked.
Zine line of business we're doing,
Mr.. Marsh. The secret Of my success
is knowing how to do it. Most young
people who go on the stage waste lot
of time laundering about art. It isn't
art; it's business. The only art in it is
to fool the public, especially the silly
young. There's the letters got today
pointing, from young ladies who ad.
mire this stuffed head. Don't open
d