The San Francisco call., 1908-07-26

~ HARLES RAM KENNEDY, au-
thor Of The Servant in the
House" took me by the hand and
" In most pleasant, brotherly fash
son led me forth. Together we
walked down the yellow sands of
shifting thought to the foaming ripples
Of psychology; we Jared forth through
the breakers Of sociology. and then,
splash, I was over my head in the deep
biue Of the philosophy OF Greek drama.
I was lost and houndering until 1
heard him say: In Gods name-your
brother" and I knew I was safe again.
But no more Of the deeps for me; at
least III not attempt TO lead you,
gentle reader. where Kennedy-poet,
philosopher socialist and dreamer
took me. You and I would both be
drowned. though my hand might be as
friendly and my faith as keen as his.
You DO not know Charles Ram Ken
nedy? II you met him you'd feel you
knew him from boyhood. He is so ap-
proachable, and he has such an abiding
fa1h in you. he seems to think any
man may swim as far out from shore
his own strong arms dip, and he
makes believe you understand every
thing he says, even though his words
come tumbling over each other in the
eXuberance Of his lively fancy and
nimble thought.
I defy the greatest stenographer in
the world to take his monOlogue. He
sees q thought on his minds horizon.
II 7utters there like q butterfly bathed
I'm the radiance that poets wit sheds.
Then after il he goes. over hills and
through deep forests; past thickets Of
sweet scented shrubbery and through
winding lanes. where the trailing vines
catch your feet; then over the sunlit,
cloud dotted open until the quarry is
caught. There il is. He shows il 10
you and you admire its rare perfection.
but you never find out exactly how il
was captured and you viii never trace
the devious path over which, breath
less, you have raced.
From all Of which you are correct
in your guess. Kennedy is q poet and
he promises TO prove IL by writing a
play in blank verse. But though he
should never write two lines that
rhyme, he would still be a poet, for he
had made poets Of all his associates.
He even made one out OF me for an
hour. His thought is the curving.
symmetrical fancy OF the poet and his
Inspirations are out OF a completely
subjective brain
Your first word, he said 10 me in
our chat at the St. Francis" your mo-
tive for a play, that is 70 say. is chosen
from inhnity. Just how and when il
comes. I cannot say. In my own case
il is a thought and not a word, and
the printed letters stultify il. II is a
something gripped from the realms Of
truth. Be careful, for when you open
your hand il may be gone. The mo-
tive. for instance, Of my play, The
Servant IN the House. IS better ex-
pressed by the piece than by few
restricting. circumscribing words. Now
the abstract truth is selected from the
infnity OF verities. The next develop
ment Of the thought is the character
ization OF the motive. The breathing
OF the breath OF life. so 70 say. Then
comes the plot. and the actual working
out OF the technical scheme with
which the intangible thought. first
chosen, must be clothed and made q
fact That is the difficulty. But the
last word. that is inevitable. In Gods
name. your brother. is the un-
avoidabie conclusion Of my play
as soon as the proposition is
fairly stated. SO. you see, my first
word is plucked from the invisible
and unknown: the last IS inevitable.
see these themes pictorially and musi-
cally." he said.
.'MUsically2" 7 asked.