THE THEATRE

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 70, 15 December 1917, Page 13

THE THEATRE

(By Sylvius.)

Musical Memory and Pictures. If you have a "musical memory" ant! beautiful themes ;iro impressed indelibly on your mental record, thon you may havo tho enchanted picture beautiful with you for all timo, lor the music composed especially for "A Daughter of the Gods," which opens at the Grand Opera House to-night, melodically runs along with the charming fairy story, and tells it with an appeal that is wholly lacking in tho spoken word. Every human passion that has part in tho spectacle, the conservation of every white virtue and black hatred; tho acolian song of the winds and the impressive sweep and diapason of-the snow-ridged soas; the whimsical elfin movement and song of tho ever-busy gnomes; tho sheer appeal of pure beauty of scene and per6on; and the glad, triumphant spirit of the good that conquers and endures—the inspiration of the song and etory—all these vividly are given by the magic of tho music. Raymond Nowton Hyde, • consulting art expert for several millionaire collectors, and a. musical enthusiast, has declared that lie can sit in silence, with closed eyes, and, as he invokes theme after theme of "A Daughter of the Gods," the pictures reel off hefore his mental vision as definitely as though projected on tho theatre screen. How Actors Can Help. There was once- a man named Hugh J. Ward, who, when visiting Wellington, said:—"This city has no children s hospital—wo must see to it!" Ihe seeing to it involved a big effort, which was ably co-operated in by local people, and presto 1 A hospital thero is_ today second to none in the Dominion. Mr. Ward, who is revisiting his native America, has been received with much pomp and ceremony by the theatrical magnates of Now York,- who Have, discovered tho samo qunlitios in tho actor-ma-aager that Wellington discovered years ago. On October 1 he was feted in New York. This is tho "New York fciunV (lescripTion of the occasion:— Tho Friars gathered in tho great hall of tho 110 West Fortyeighth Street, last night to pay homage to 11. J. (Hughey) Ward, a Friar mio went to Australia years aso as an actor and returned as head of the greates't theatrical syndicate in the antipodes, and known to America as the half-owner of the Boston Red Sox. Tho Friars came, as of yore, to hide their love of a manly character under banter and jest, to conceal their sworn fealty by pranks at tho expense of the man they complimented. They stayed to cheer tho Allies. It was the first timo that the club had ever honoured a member from a foreign clime. And it was probably the first timo that the Friars, fanieff as The Jolly men of btageland, were ever swept from their programme of fun and, forgetting their profession of laughter, they joined in a demonstration that almost shook tho cloistered walls as tho men leaped to their feet and cheered again and again for the cause of the' Allies and the noble part Australia has played. Mr. AVard, son of America though he was, has taken to his heart the causo of the- Allies. With a few opening remarks ho brushed aside the laughter and fun-making and told in simple language of tho fight the Australians have made fo advance the world's civilisation upon the field of war. He told of men who had gone forth from Australia, from tho theatres, from the trades, and from the professions. Then ho told how the mon camo back maimed and hurt. "Wβ must all help," ho said. , "Wo must learn the great lesson that tho war is teaching all nations, the lesson of giving and then giving more. I never before knew tho pleasure of giving. AVc have all given, but wo have lill got so much inoro iu return. You men will nob ■ realise tho great needs until later. Hub 1 want io generate in your hearts tho great emotion which I know is to sweep our country. "You men who nightly faco great audiences are in a position to mould aud to sway our people. You must help, help "n every way that you can Give something, if you can, ever.y day—a thought, an idea, a bit of sympathy, and money, of course. 1 know- you men will understand when the day comos. But I say what is now so close to my heart. Let us all help in this war in every liftle way in which wo can." • As tho speaker closed his remarks a silence fell for a moment, and then a shout with tho timbre of a. battle-cry swept over the room. Men with dimmed eyes and tense lips looked eyes front and cheered and applauded for several minutes. Cyril Maude Stories. Cyril Maude's address to the audienco at the opening performance c-f "Grumpy" in Melbourne stamped him as such a delightful raconteur that playgoers got into the habit of demanding from liim nightly a speech, just as it were part and parcel of the production of "Grumpy." Every evening "Grumpv" had to draw himself to his "full and splendid height"—as the novelist, according to Mr. Maude, describes it—drop the gruffness of tho old lawyer, and givo the delightful, humorous, and informal talk, full of good stories, that every audience at "Grumpy" looked forward to. He was playing "Grumpy" at a town in Texas, in the United States. Most of tho audience consisted of cowpunchers. Before the nerformanco was over about a hundred of the cowpunchers left the hall. Their hands rested suspiciously on a littlo metal something in the vicinity of their hip pockets. "Gee," they complained, "wo can't understand a word the guy says."

Mr. Maude caps this story with another. At San An tonie lie was being driven round to see the sights" of this most interesting town. "The chauffeur." says Mr. Maude, "could not aptly lie described ns voluble. In fact the silonco was thick." Tb was after visiting the crocodile farm that the snell was broken, when lie vouchsafed the information that his father was Scotch. "Indeed." murmured Mr. Mmide. "Yes," snid the chauffeur, "very Scotch." Then after a pause. "Ho can hardlv speak English yet." "Beallv." exclaimed the astonished actor. The chauffeur looked nf. Mr. Mnude for a moment, and blurted out. "He speaks English worse than you do!" At another little Western town Air. Maude's manager arrived at the hotel and registered for himself and Cynl Maude.' "Is Cyril Maude with you? queried the Merk. "Yes," ronlied the manner. "Then tell W slm rs wanted on the ! plio"p," sikl the clerk. _ • When" Mr. Maude was nlavinc "frpmipy" in New York the clerk at the. lie\- oPce told tho netir of a. dear old lady who came to book seats, and pawd contemplntivcly nt the portrait of "Grumpy" in the vestibule. "Wb--*-. a fine nrtnr he is." sb« rellented. "But wliv did he wait I'll 1"> wa« nn oM nmii to come over Imro?'" is wliv," exnlains Mr. Maude. "I nlwnvs nnke it mv business' to displnv ouU'do Hie theatre at which 1 am (ipprorins? a? 'Oruinny' snmo pliotocraphs of 'iv■.elf in privite dro=s. The-;e show tint instead of being about eiglitv vears old T inertly look about—oh, well, never There is a story ho tolls of an armljp«iit for n nosi f ion in his co'irmnv. His letter nf introduction deperib°d him as nn iicter of oxnoriei'cn and wi' 1 " t"le"t. n .vp..t. on *o w: "TT» Macbe"'. Richelieu. Shylock, nnd billiards. He plays billiards best."