The San Francisco call., 1905-08-27

: effective when one shifts ?" had heard
not.
She came back with this: when one is
most emotional one is not always most
impressive. ] remember once going to see
a woman who had lost her husband. She
was in fearful grief and was intensely
sorry for her. But 1 watched her to see
how she did it-wasnt it shameful of
me?" Chin in hand looking at me from
under her snooded hair like a child. she
asked this. But I couldn't help it. And
isn't this terrible?-it was funny! Acted
upon the stage, as she acted it in real
life. the scene would have been only
funny
Conscious! I had said of Miss Albert
sons acting that 1T was conscious"
How under the glittering sun. 1 Won
dered now could it fail of being con-
scioUs? Her bent of mind is exactly
that which De Maupassant deplores in
himself-the critical consciousness
that may not take a kiss from the
beloved without criticizing the fitness,
the artistry of it; that catalogues, ana
lyzes, every thrill. More-much more
! Il saw OF this in this unusual young
person. And it is a temperament yet
unawaSened; ii is a self lf-consciousness
coeXistent with an extraordinary emo
| tional naivete. and one wonders just
what Will happen when the awakening
comes
We went back to the question of
brains upon the stage.
Il know people of exceptional intel
! lect, she was saying, who are posi-
| lively grotesque when it comes to eX-
pressing emotion-of the pathetic kind
we'll say. They do 1t all from the
head-from the objective mind; don't
give the subjective mind any say. Then
there are those that-did you ever see
Clara Morris?"
I had not
Il saw her." the young critic went
on. lately in The Two Orphans That
was the only time ever saw her. But
through reading about her L had the
/ impression that she had dominated her
audience by a certain emotional frenzy
/ hysteria When | saw her. (solemnly
the golden eyes regarded mel "she was
pitifully futile. Her voice was like
this" Cby the Albertson voice fat as
the clatter of a bad dollar), ''she shook
| her hands like this-the old, bad way.
All the temper seemed to have gone
! out of the work, all that before had
magnetized the audience. But how can
! she write as she does2 What does one
write with? Isn't It the same thing?"
Spare me, Helen's Baby I laughed.
/ But Miss Albertson, like the immortal
Bulge and Toddie. went on: IF she ever
had that thing, where has it gone? Per-
haps it is still there, and age and ills of
body dull the power of obeying the sub
! jective order?"
Darling up to the call then, she dashed
some powder on her cheeks with: 81
want TO be a little pale here-Pve had
trouble, don't you know, since the last
I acti' And in her Red Ridinghcod cape
she tripped of TO join Shaun in his
prison.
Tears again, as she came back.
Where do they come from?" I asked
in turn, ''or do you analyze your own
thrills?"
She did, she said. and uncannily asked:
Have you ever noticed how soon they go
when you begin to analyze them7"
You have?" 1 parried. But is 1t
worth it?'
Her mo, ma am" was startling in its
complete conviction. "It is best to have
the thrills" Then she said, and / knew
had the creed of the girl, But, / want
/ to know. Even II 1t brings pain / want to
know. I'm willing to pay, but / am going
| to know. Do you think, anyway, that
there is very much pain for the people
who do know"
Yes, 1 did.
She argued, looking like cherub asking
you to stroke it's wings, But the people
who know, don't they know how transi-
( tory it all is, the joy, the pain?"
Mostly how transitory their own joy
and the other mems pain" I thought.
Miss Albertson did say that she would
like to play Juliet. La Tosca, Magda, but
not Camille; that she was just cropping
her way yet in her work; that (very seri-
ously) she liked it very, very much But
it was the small sage in Arrah's rosy
petticoat that quite confounded me. Mrs.
| Denis O'Sullivan, painter, playwright,
| ETC., etc, who was femininely occupied in
the next room with needle and bit of
/ Mr. Denis lingerie, will tell you so. And
Miss Albertson's stockings are not even
J the merest. palest blue.