And Mr. Palmer, standing in his box, looking at the pleased, moist-eyed people in front, took up the cue they offered, so promptly that within twenty-four hours I had been engaged to play Camille at the Union Square, as one of a cast to be ever proud of, in a handsome production with sufficient rehearsals and correct gowns and plenty of extra ladies and gentlemen to "enter all!" at the fourth act. And more still, the new play that was then in preparation was called in and packed away with mothballs to wait until the old play had had its innings.
Such a cast! Just look at it!
| M. Armand Duval | MR. CHARLES R. THORNE |
| Comte de Varville | MR. MCKEE RANKIN |
| M. Duval (Père) | MR. JOHN PARSELLE |
| M. Gustave | MR. CLAUDE BURROUGHS |
| M. Gaston | MR. STUART ROBSON |
| Mademoiselle Olympe | MISS MAUDE GRANGER |
| Mademoiselle Nichette | MISS KATE CLAXTON |
| Mademoiselle Nanine | MISS KATE HOLLAND |
| Madame Prudence | MISS EMILY MESTAYER |
If Mr. Palmer ever eats opium or hashish and has beauteous visions, I am sure he will see himself making out those splendid old casts again.
Every theatre-goer knows it's difficult for a stout, romantic actor to make his love reach convincingly all the way round, and it is almost as difficult for an actor who has attained six feet of height to make his love include his entire length of anatomy. But Charles R. Thorne was the most satisfactory over-tall lover I ever saw. He really seemed entirely possessed by the passion of love. "My God Thorne" he was nicknamed because of his persistent use of that exclamation. Of course it did often occur in plays by authority of their authors, but whenever Thorne was nervous, confused, or "rattled," as actors term it, or uncertain of the next line, he would pass his hand across his brow and exclaim, in suppressed tones: "My God!" and delicious creepy chills would go up and down the feminine spine out in the auditorium—the male spine is not so sensitive, you know. A fine actor, hot-tempered, quick to take offence, equally quick to repent his too hasty words; as full of mischief as a monkey, he was greatly beloved by those near to him. I worked with him in perfect amity, albeit I do not think he ever called me anything but Johnny, the name Lou James bestowed upon me at Daly's; and his death found me shocked and incredulous as well as grieved. He should have served his admiring public many a year longer, this most admirable Armand.
And Mr. Parselle, what a delight his stage presence was. He had unction, jollity, tenderness, dignity, but above all a most polished courtesy. It was worth two dollars to see John Parselle in court dress, and his entrance and salutation as Duval Père in the cottage scene of "Camille" was an unfailing gratification to me—he was a dramatic gem of great value.
Mr. Stuart Robson, by expressing a genuine tenderness of sympathy for the dying woman in the last act, amazed and delighted everyone. It had not been suspected that a trained comedian, who hopped about and lisped and squeaked through the other acts, could lay aside those eccentricities and show real gentleness and sincerity in the last—a very memorable Gaston was Mr. Stuart Robson.
But oh, how many of these names are cut in marble now! Poor Claude Burroughs! with his big eyes, his water curls, and his tight-waisted coats. We would not have poked so much fun at him, had we known how terrible was the fate approaching him.
And little Katie Holland—she of the knee-reaching auburn locks, the gentlest of living creatures—God in His wisdom, which finite man may not understand, has taken and held safe, lo! these many years.
As an ex-votary of pleasure, Prudence is always more convincing if she can show some remnant of past beauty; so the statuesque regularity of feature the Mestayer family was famous for, told here, and the Prudence of Miss Emily Mestayer was as handsome and heartless a harpy as one ever saw.