The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1876-10-14

4 GENUINE QUARREL. BETWEEN g ARMAND
AND WCAMIILEN IN RENO. NEVADA

AMI CAMiLLE IN RENO, NEVADA.
Rose Eytinge played sc Camille" few
evenings since at National Guard Hall,
Reno, Nevada. All went we'll until the
ballroom scene in the fourth act, when, as
related by the Virginia Chronicle, Mr. Ash
ton. the stage manager, who had been play
ing the part of s'Armand,'' stepped out
from the right-hand side Of the curtain, and
in tones that were crisp. even unto frigid-
ity, remarked: ~
! <tLadies and Gentlemen,--As q matter OF
simple justice to myself and to the other
members of the company, wish to say a
few words. Miss Eytinge has declared it is
necessary for her to leave Reno tonight in
order to catch the overland train in the
morning. A carriage is now in waiting to
convey her to Reno when the play is finish
ed. For this reason she has found it neces-
sary, she says, to cut out several portions Of
the play. I only make this statement in or
der that the audience may know why the
play is so much 'cut lin order that Miss
Eytlnge may keep engagements elsewhere"
MIR. Ashton retired as he had entered
on the right Scarcely had he disappeared
at that side Of the curtain when Miss
Eytince entered from the other side. There
was wonderful metamorphosis, so far as
her costume was concerned. When the
audience had seen her but two minutes be-
fore fainting on the stage, while Armand -
was declaring his dividend, as it were, she
was regally robed in cherry satin and pur-
ple velvet; now she was merely clad IN
snowy-white frilled petticoat, with homefy
old woollen shawl around her shoulders.
The audience sat in breathless astonish-
ment while the etragedy-queen-looking like
"Lady Macbeth" in the sleep-walking
scene. but moving at much livelier gait
glided before the foot-lights pale with an
ger, and said /:
"Ladies and Gcntlemen,-I am surprised
that Mr.. Ashton should haves greatly mis-
understood my true reasons for having the
play cut down. do not intend to leave
Reno until tomorrow night. But the sup
port which ! am given here is entirely in
adequate to the proper rendition OF the
play, so that the cutting-out OF some por-
tions is unavoidable"
And then, with q queenly bow and a
graceful and comprehensive wave OF her
alabaster arm, she swept of behind the cur,
tain. It was Mr.. Ashton's turn now, and
he was promptly on hand. just as the
last frill OF Miss Eytinge's snowy outside
petticoat vanished behind the red curtain
Ileft side, of course,) Ashton appeared once
more, like dark avenger, at the right.
His handsome face was paler even than
Miss Eytinge's, and it was evident that he,
too. was angry-in fact, that this was about
the most serious quarrel that had broken
ont between s.Camille" and her beloved
" Armand" Two or three long strides
brought him to the middle Of the stage;
with hand uplifted and in deep and tragic
tones thus he broke forth:
"Ladies and Gentlemen,-Iwisht to say to
YOU that-that-but no, will not saylt, fol-
Ipointing to the side at which Miss Etyinge
had made her exiD she is female. But
wish to say this"
THE yox PoPULI.
Here the gallery became tumultuous II
demonstrations Of dissatisfaction. They
were bound to take the woman's side, right
or wrong, and volley Of the choicest Com
stock slang rained down from right and left
WOh. pull down your vest!" "Augh
slash the racket" .Give us rest ~ ant
many other inyocations of a similar charac
ter drowned the speakers voice.
"All I ask is fair hearing," said Mr.
Ashton, in voice loud enough to be heard
above the din, and soon the "raeket" wa:
4" stashed." He said, briefly, that the rea
sons first assigned by him for "cutting'
the play were really those given by Miss
Eytinge, as he could prove by every mem
Der Of the company, II the audience de
sired. No such desire being expressed Mr.
Ashton retired once more, and the auditors
were left for few minutes to indulge II
guesses as to how the discordant lover:
would get along in the last actor tia
was the death-scene Of "Camille," and sht
was to be reconciled to stArmand," and di'
| in his arms.
| ACT y-DEATH OF CAMILLE.
At last the curtain rose, disclosing th
poorly-furnished bed-chamber OF Camille
who was reclining on her couch. 1t is th'
most touching scene of the play, for though
lowering on the threshold Of the grave, sh
knows that /" "Armand" has learned th
truth-that her only reason for leaving hin
was because his father had made her believ
that H HArmand's" :" honor and welfare woult
be imperilled il she remained; she know
| that even now her lover is flying home iron
some foreign land, and she begins to speal
of life and hope again: All nature hope
for spring, and why not I?" In the thrill
ing earnestness of tone and gesture the au
dience soon became SO absorbed in the pla.
| that all thought of the squabble before tn
curtain was forgotten, until the part Wher
| ts Armand - arrives and folds !" Camille
| to his bosom.
Camille: oh, Armand, you have come
but it is too late
Armand: Oh, Camille! you must no
speak OF death, but life! Live, oh! live 10
me (!
This is usually one Of the most affecting
scenes in the play, and as genera talnt
the laugh doesn't come In here. But OF
this particular occasion there was sometmns
so indescribably funny about 1t that tn'
audience burst out in unanimous gunaW
The short, consumptiye cough OF "Ca
mile" which usually brings the handker
chief to the tear-dimmed eye OF the sympa
thetic auditor, was unheard in wild tornado
of laughter, and the handkerchiefs-wher'
used at aIl-were jammed into the mouths
OF their owners. Miss Eytinge and MIR
Ashton were certainly entitled to credit fol
the thoroughly artistic mastery which they
displayed over their emotions, for although
both must certainly have realized the iudi.
crousness Of the situation, they proceeded
(when the uproar had subsided) as th0ugf
nothing unusual had happened.
Camille: 6. Armand, it is wise-lt1s well
it is Just! Ihave been guilty. Living, tne
memory OF that guilt would haunt me ike
8 specfre. It would fit between me and
your smile! It would stand upon the plat'
form OF the past, growing monstrous, hid
eous with my years, darkening with its fear.
ful shadow. my passage to the close Deans ~
kindly veil will hide 1t from my sight-the
world will bury its resentment In my grave,
and, remembering my sufferings, may ior.
get my faults. :, &.