Then, too, there were the gorgeous Maude Granger, the ruddy-haired Claxton, and the piratically handsome Rankin; their best opportunities were yet to come to all three. And with that cast Mr. Palmer achieved a great success, with the play that, old then, shows to this day the most astounding vitality.
The only drawback was to be found in its impropriety as an entertainment for the ubiquitous "young person," in the immorality of Camille's life, which was much dwelt upon. Now—oh, the pity of it!—now Camille is, by comparison with modern plays, absolutely staid. It is the adulteries of wives and husbands that the "young person" looks unwinkingly upon to-day. Worse still—the breaking of the Seventh Commandment no longer leads to tragic punishment, as of yore, but the thunders that rolled about Mount Sinai at the promulgation of that awful warning: "Thou shalt not commit adultery!" are answered now by the thunders of laughter that greet the taking in adultery of false wives and husbands in milliners' many-doored rooms, or restaurants' cabinet particulier. Alas, that the time should come that this passion for the illicit should so dominate the stage!
One more delightful production at the Union Square Theatre I shared in, and then my regular company days were over.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOURTH
"Miss Multon" Put in Rehearsal—Our Squabble over the Manner of her Death—Great Success of the Play—Mr. Palmer's Pride in it—My Au Revoir.
The other day, in recalling to Mr. Palmer a long list of such successful productions of his as "Led Astray," "The Two Orphans," "Camille," "Miss Multon," "The Danicheffs," "The Celebrated Case," etc., he surprised me by emphatically declaring that the performance of "Miss Multon" came nearer to absolute perfection than had any other play he had ever produced; and to convince me of that, he simply brought forward the cast of the play to help prove the truth of his assertion. As we went over the characters one by one, I was compelled to admit that from the leading part to the smallest servant, I had never seen one of them quite equaled since. Mr. Palmer's pride in this production seemed the more odd at first, because of its slight demands upon the scenic-artist, the carpenter, and upholsterer. It needs just two interior scenes—a busy doctor's study in London and a morning-room in a French country-house—that's all. "But," he will enthusiastically cry, "think of that performance, recall those people," and so, presently, I will obey him and recall them every one.
The play had twice failed in Paris, which was, to say the least, discouraging. When it was read to me I thought the tremendous passion of maternity ought to touch the public heart—others there were, who said no, that sexual love alone could interest the public. Mr. Palmer thought the French play had needed a little brightening; then, too, he declared the people wanted to see the actual end of the heroine (one of Mr. Daly's fixed beliefs, by the way), therefore he had Mr. Cazauran write two additional short acts—a first, to introduce some brightness in the children's Christmas-tree party and some amusement in the old bachelor doctor and his old maid sister; and a last for the death of Miss Multon.
After brief reflection I concluded I would risk it, and then, just by way of encouragement, Mr. Cazauran, who had always been at pains to speak as kindly of my work as that work would allow, when he was critic on the different papers, declared that all my acquired skill and natural power of expressing emotion united would prove useless to me—that Miss Multon was to be my Waterloo, and to all anxious or surprised "whys?" sapiently made answer: "No children." His argument was, that not being a mother in reality, I could not be one in imagination.
Always lacking in self-confidence, those words made my heart sink physically, it seemed to me, as well as figuratively; but the ever-ready jest came bravely to the fore to hide my hurt from the public eye, and at next rehearsal I shook my head mournfully and remarked to the little man: "Bad—bad! Miss Cushman must be a very bad Lady Macbeth—I don't want to see her!"
"What?" he exclaimed, "Cushman not play Lady Macbeth—for heaven's sake, why not?"