Somebody—we think Mr Dutton Cook—tells a good story of an _accessoire_ once attached to the Porte St-Martin Theatre. M. Fombonne had won managerial praise for the adroitness with which he handed letters or coffee-cups upon a salver and his excellent manner of announcing the names of stage-guests and visitors. Naturally enough, he thought his services might be more liberally rewarded, and made his thought known.
‘Monsieur Fombonne,’ said the manager, ‘I acknowledge the justice of your application. I admire and esteem you. You are one of the most useful members of my company. I well know your worth; no one better.’
Glowing with pleasure at this recognition of his merits, M. Fombonne, with one of his best bows, said: ‘I may venture then to hope’——
‘By all means, Monsieur Fombonne,’ interrupted the manager. ‘Hope sustains us under all our afflictions. Always hope. For my part, hope is the only thing left me. Business is wretched. The treasury is empty. I cannot possibly raise your salary. But you are an artist, and therefore above pecuniary considerations. I do not, I cannot offer you money; but I can gratify a laudable ambition. Hitherto you have ranked only as an _accessoire_; from this time you are an actor. I give you the right of entering the _grand foyer_. You are permitted to call Monsieur Lemaitre _mon camarade_; to _tutoyer_ Mademoiselle Theodorine. I am sure, Monsieur Fombonne, that you will thoroughly appreciate the distinction I have conferred upon you.’ The manager read his man rightly; the promoted _accessoire_ was more than satisfied.
Not so well pleased was the English super who asked for a rise, pleading that he had been playing his part with the utmost care and zeal for a hundred consecutive nights. The manager inquired what part he played.
‘Why, sir,’ said he, ‘I am in the fourth act; I have to stake twenty pounds in the gambling scene.’
‘Very well,’ quoth the manager; ‘from to-night you shall double the stakes.’
Was it the same manager, we wonder, to whom Mr Sala’s small super came crying for a redress of his grievance? He had been cast to play ‘double-four’ in a pantomimic game of animated dominoes; but the dresser had allotted ‘double-four’ to his brother Jim, and insisted upon his being contented with donning the tabard of ‘four and a blank.’ He had protested, he had howled, he had punched Jim’s head, without effect.