all the
provincial theater—where he and his wife had played in drama,
vaudeville, comedy, operetta, opera comique, opera, spectacle,
pantomime, happy in the entertainment which began at five o'clock in
the afternoon and ended at one o'clock in the morning, in the grand
theaters of the chief cities, in the saloon of the mayor, in the barn
of the village, without boots, without patches, without orchestra,
sometimes even without spectators—thus saving the return of the
money—professionals fit for anything, no matter what.
As a Parisian, Caterna must have been the wag of the forecastle when he
was at sea. As clever with his instrument of brass or wood, he
possessed a most varied and complete assortment of jokes, songs,
monologues, and dialogues. This he told me with an immense amount of
attitude and gesture, now here, now there, legs, arms, hands, and feet
all going together. I should never feel dull in the company of such a
merry companion.
"And where were you before you left France?" I asked.
"At La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, where Madame Caterna achieved a genuine
success as Elsa in 'Lohengrin,' which we played without music. But it
is an interesting piece, and it was well done."
"You must have been a good deal about the world, Monsieur Caterna?"
"I believe you; Russia, England, both Americas. Ah! Monsieur Claudius."
He already called me Claudius.
"Ah! Monsieur Claudius, there was a time when I was the idol of Buenos
Ayres, and the pet of Rio Janeiro! Do not think I would tell you an
untruth! No! I know myself. Bad at Paris, I am excellent in the
provinces. In Paris you play for yourself; in the provinces you play
for the others! And then what a repertory!"
"My compliments, my dear compatriot!"
"I accept them, Monsieur Claudius, for I like my trade. What would you
haye? All the world cannot expect to be a senator or—a special
correspondent."
"There, that is wicked, Monsieur Caterna," said I, with a laugh.
"No; it is the last word."
And while the unwearied actor ran on in this way, stations appeared one
after the other between the shrieks of the whistle, Kulka, Nisachurch,
Kulla Minor and others, not particularly cheerful to look at; then
Bairam Ali at the seven hundred and ninety-fifth verst and Kourlan Kala
at the eight hundred and fifteenth.
"And to tell you the truth," continued Caterna, "we have made a little
money by going about from town to town. At the bottom of our boxes are
a few Northern debentures, of which I think a good deal, and take much
care, and they have been honestly got, Monsieur Claudius. Although we
live under a democratic government, the rule of equality, the time is
still far off when you will see the noble father dining beside the
prefect at the table of the judge of appeal, and the actress open the
ball with the prefect at the house of the general-in-chief! Well! We
can dine and dance among ourselves—"
"And be just as happy, Monsieur Caterna."
"Certainly no less, Monsieur Claudius," replied the future premier
comic of Shanghai, shaking an imaginary frill with the graceful ease of
one of Louis XV.'s noblemen.
At this point, Madame Caterna came up. She was in every way worthy of
her husband, sent into the world to reply to him in life as on the
stage, one of those genial theater folks, born one knows not where or
how, but thoroughly genuine and good-natured.
"I beg to introduce you to Caroline Caterna," said the actor, in much
the same tone as he would have introduced me to Patti or Sarah
Bernhardt.
"Having shaken hands with your husband," said I, "I shall be happy to
shake hands with you, Madame Caterna."
"There you are, then," said the actress, "and without ceremony, foot to
the front, and no prompting."
"As you see, no nonsense about her, and the best of wives—"
"As he is the best of husbands."
"I believe I am, Monsieur Claudius," said the actor, "and why? Because
I believe that marriage consists entirely in the precept to which
husbands should always conform, and that is,
provincial theater—where he and his wife had played in drama,
vaudeville, comedy, operetta, opera comique, opera, spectacle,
pantomime, happy in the entertainment which began at five o'clock in
the afternoon and ended at one o'clock in the morning, in the grand
theaters of the chief cities, in the saloon of the mayor, in the barn
of the village, without boots, without patches, without orchestra,
sometimes even without spectators—thus saving the return of the
money—professionals fit for anything, no matter what.
As a Parisian, Caterna must have been the wag of the forecastle when he
was at sea. As clever with his instrument of brass or wood, he
possessed a most varied and complete assortment of jokes, songs,
monologues, and dialogues. This he told me with an immense amount of
attitude and gesture, now here, now there, legs, arms, hands, and feet
all going together. I should never feel dull in the company of such a
merry companion.
"And where were you before you left France?" I asked.
"At La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, where Madame Caterna achieved a genuine
success as Elsa in 'Lohengrin,' which we played without music. But it
is an interesting piece, and it was well done."
"You must have been a good deal about the world, Monsieur Caterna?"
"I believe you; Russia, England, both Americas. Ah! Monsieur Claudius."
He already called me Claudius.
"Ah! Monsieur Claudius, there was a time when I was the idol of Buenos
Ayres, and the pet of Rio Janeiro! Do not think I would tell you an
untruth! No! I know myself. Bad at Paris, I am excellent in the
provinces. In Paris you play for yourself; in the provinces you play
for the others! And then what a repertory!"
"My compliments, my dear compatriot!"
"I accept them, Monsieur Claudius, for I like my trade. What would you
haye? All the world cannot expect to be a senator or—a special
correspondent."
"There, that is wicked, Monsieur Caterna," said I, with a laugh.
"No; it is the last word."
And while the unwearied actor ran on in this way, stations appeared one
after the other between the shrieks of the whistle, Kulka, Nisachurch,
Kulla Minor and others, not particularly cheerful to look at; then
Bairam Ali at the seven hundred and ninety-fifth verst and Kourlan Kala
at the eight hundred and fifteenth.
"And to tell you the truth," continued Caterna, "we have made a little
money by going about from town to town. At the bottom of our boxes are
a few Northern debentures, of which I think a good deal, and take much
care, and they have been honestly got, Monsieur Claudius. Although we
live under a democratic government, the rule of equality, the time is
still far off when you will see the noble father dining beside the
prefect at the table of the judge of appeal, and the actress open the
ball with the prefect at the house of the general-in-chief! Well! We
can dine and dance among ourselves—"
"And be just as happy, Monsieur Caterna."
"Certainly no less, Monsieur Claudius," replied the future premier
comic of Shanghai, shaking an imaginary frill with the graceful ease of
one of Louis XV.'s noblemen.
At this point, Madame Caterna came up. She was in every way worthy of
her husband, sent into the world to reply to him in life as on the
stage, one of those genial theater folks, born one knows not where or
how, but thoroughly genuine and good-natured.
"I beg to introduce you to Caroline Caterna," said the actor, in much
the same tone as he would have introduced me to Patti or Sarah
Bernhardt.
"Having shaken hands with your husband," said I, "I shall be happy to
shake hands with you, Madame Caterna."
"There you are, then," said the actress, "and without ceremony, foot to
the front, and no prompting."
"As you see, no nonsense about her, and the best of wives—"
"As he is the best of husbands."
"I believe I am, Monsieur Claudius," said the actor, "and why? Because
I believe that marriage consists entirely in the precept to which
husbands should always conform, and that is,
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