BURLESQUE OF MODERN DRAMA. We now pass to a department of burlesque writing larger in extent and greater in variety than any other—that in which the finger of ridicule has been pointed at poetic and melodramatic plays (other than those of Shakespeare). This department is far-reaching in the matter of time. It goes back, for subject, so far as Lee's high-sounding "Alexander the Great" (better known, perhaps, as "The Rival Queens"), which, first produced in 1678, was travestied by Dibdin, in "Alexander the Great in Little," a "grand tragi-comic operatic burlesque spectacle," originally seen at the Strand in 1837, with Hammond as Alexander and Mrs. Stirling as Roxana. Seven years later there was performed at the Surrey a burlesque, by Montagu Corri, of Lillo's famous tragedy "George Barnwell" (1730), here called "Georgy Barnwell"—a title which H. J. Byron altered to "George De Barnwell" when in 1862 he travestied the old play at the Adelphi. Home's "Douglas", which was given to the public in 1756, appears to have escaped stage satire until 1837, when it was taken in hand by William Leman Rede. The Adelphi was the scene of the production, and the performers My name is Norval, sir; upon the Grampian Hills My father feeds his flocks, beside the streams and rills. He often said to me, "Don't roam about at nights." But I had heard of sprees, of larks, and rows, and fights. Tol de rol lol tol lol, tol de rol lol lol lay. Tol de rol lol tol lol—list to what I say. The moon rose up one night, as moons will often do, And there came from left and right a ragged ruffian crew; They broke into our house, they swigged our beer and ale, They stole our flocks and herds, and caught our pig by the tail. Tol, lol, etc. The shepherds fled, the curs! but I was not to be chizzled, So with a chosen few after the fellows we mizzled; We fought and larrupped 'em all! indeed, it isn't a flam, I stole the togs of the chief, and, blow me, here I am! Tol lol, etc. We have already seen that, in his "Quadrupeds of Quedlinburgh," Colman junior extracted some fun out of scenes in "The Stranger," "Pizarro," and "Timour the Tartar." The first of these plays was made the subject of more elaborate satire in 1868, when Mr. Robert Reece wrote for the New Queen's Theatre his burlesque called "The Stranger, Stranger than Ever!" This, with Miss Santley as Peter, Mr. Lionel Brough as the Stranger, and Miss Henrietta Hodson as Mrs. Haller, had many points of attraction. In this reductio ad absurdum the lady's chief complaint is that her husband first neglected her and then deserted her, taking away the children. Moreover, "he As usual with Mr. Reece, the puns are excellent. Tobias says of the stranger that Each evening you may see him sitting so, Under that linden when the sun was low; On close inspection, too, you'll also see His noble eye, sir, rolling rapidly. Then the Stranger says to Peter:— Mrs. Haller's gifts you showed, As hint that I should help you Haller-mode. To the Countess he remarks:— Madam, this river-water's eau-de-riverous! And of his children he says:— They're fighting through their alphabet. Oh, lor! I quit them in their A-B-C-nian war! Of his wife:— When first I married thee (then somewhat shady), Oh, Adelaide! I thought I had a lady! But, in truth, there is no end to these jeux-de-mots. "Pizarro," which nowadays has quite gone out of the theatrical repertory, was dealt with from the comic point of view by Leicester Buckingham, whose "Pizarro, or the Leotard of Peru," was seen at the Strand in 1862, with Johnny Clarke as the hero, and Miss Swanborough, Miss Charlotte Saunders, Miss Bufton, Miss Fanny Josephs, Miss Fanny Hughes, and Rogers, in other parts. Of the "literature" of this piece the following is a very fair example: it is supposed to be spoken by Rolla:— Tho' to use vulgar phrases I've no wish, I may say, here's a pretty kettle of fish! But then the world's all fishy—poets fail To prove that life is not a tearful wale! Though fancy's prospect oft in-witing glows, Experience tends to mull-it, goodness knows; Grave moralists aver that from our birth We are all herring mortals here on earth. Dancers stick to their eels, and live well by 'em; And most folk can appreciate "carpe diem." Some statesmen—theirs is no uncommon case— Will give their soul in barter for a place, And call, to mend a diplomatic mess, The conger-eel's fond mate—a conger-ess. Nay, folks strive even in a college cloister Over a rival's head to get a hoister. "The Wood-Demon," by "Monk" Lewis, played originally in 1811, suggested to Albert Smith and Charles Kenny a travestie, of the same name, which they brought out at the Lyceum in 1847. "Timour the Tartar," another of Lewis's dramas, received equally satiric treatment at the Jerrold's "Black-ey'd Susan," first performed in 1822, waited till 1866 for the travestie by Mr. Burnand, to which I have already adverted. This "Latest Edition of Black-eyed Susan, or the Little Bill that was Taken Up," It's very hard, and nothing can be harder Than for three weeks to have an empty larder; I'm in the leaf of life that's sere and yellar, Requiring little luxuries in the cellar. There are no cellars such as I requires, But there soon will be when there are some buyers. Destiny's finger to the "work"-us points, A stern voice whispers, "Time is out of joints." I used to live by washing; now, no doubt, As I can't get it, I must live without. The turncock turned the water off—dear me! I showed no quarter—and no more did he. Thus, with the richer laundress I can't cope, Being at present badly off for soap. My son, the comfort of the aged widdy, Is still a sailor, not yet made a middy, But sailing far away; it may be my son Is setting somewhere out by the horizon. He's cruising in the offing, far away, Would he were here, I very offing say. Here also is the Wolsey-ish speech made by Captain Crosstree, after he has revealed himself as "alive and kicking," at the close:— Farewell, a long farewell to all imbibing! This is the state of man as I'm describing: To-day he takes a glass because he's dry, To-morrow, one to wet the other eye; The third day takes one extra, just to shed A tear—he feels it gets into his head: The fourth day takes two extra ones, and feels 'Stead of his head it's got into his heels; And in the morning, with perhaps two suits on, He finds himself—in bed, but with two boots on; Then after that he's nowhere; and that's how He falls as I did—which I won't do now. Five years after the production of Jerrold's play, the London stage was surfeited for a time with adaptations from the French, all bearing upon the evils of the gaming-table. These bore such titles as "The Gambler's Fate," "Thirty Years of a Gambler's Life," and so on, and were brought out at Drury Lane, the Surrey (by Elliston), and the Adelphi (by Terry and Yates). They did not last, however; and "The Elbow-Shakers, or Thirty Years of a Rattler's Life," in which Fox Cooper made fun of them, was scarcely needed to effect their overthrow. Reeve and Yates were the two Elbow-Shakers, but the piece had little intrinsic value. In 1867, at the Haymarket, Mr. Gilbert Arthur a'Beckett brought out a travestie of PlanchÉ's "Brigand" (1829), Now comes the turn of the poetic drama, as represented in and by the works of Lord Byron, Sergeant Talfourd, the first Lord Lytton, and Mr. W. S. Gilbert. The first of Lord Byron's plays to be burlesqued was "Manfred," which fell to the lot of Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett in 1834. In the "burlesque ballet opera," called "Man-Fred," which thus issued from A'Beckett's pen, Man-Fred figured as a master-sweep, very much perturbed and disturbed by the Act in reference to chimney-sweeping which had just been That horrible new act has marr'd his pleasure; It really was a very sweeping measure. His lady-love, Ann Starkie, is equally unfortunate in her business—that of apple-seller. As she remarks:— "The trade is at a stand," the people whine: If it be at a stand, 'tis not at mine. In vain down Fleet Street with my wares I go; Though Fleet they call the street, its trade is slow. In the course of the piece Ann appears disguised as Mme. Grisi, and some badinage is directed at the "stars" of the Italian Opera. A'Beckett further undertook, along with Mark Lemon, a skit upon another of the Byronic dramas—"Sardanapalus"—which they reproduced as "Sardanapalus, or the 'Fast' King of Assyria." The Adelphi was the theatre of operations; 1853 was the year; and while Miss Woolgar was Sardanapalus, Paul Bedford was Arbaces, Keeley was Salymenia (mother of the Queen), Miss Maskell was Beleses, and Miss Mary Keeley was Altada. Arbaces is here shown as impervious to the charm of melody:— Such music to my ears is a mere hum; Of minims let me have the minimum. Salymenia says to the King's favourite:— Your conduct, madam, 's not at all correct: If you're a Myrrha, why don't you reflect? Of such are the quips and the quiddities with which the piece abounds. In 1858 came, from the workshop of H. J. Byron, the Oli. You hate romance,—are one of its deriders. (Very romantically) Give me a summer-house with lots of spiders, A poet-husband too, with rolling eyes, In a fine phrenzy—— Cas.Poets I despise! And in his phrenzy that you mention, daughter, His friends see often nought but gin and water. Oli. In our sweet bower of bliss what could we fear? Cas. Why, Quarter Day, which comes four times a year! And although landlords show each quarter day, They show no quarter when you do not pay, Your poet-spouse grows thin, and daily racks his Poor brains to pay the butcher or the taxes. Oli. A verse would pay the tax-man all we owed. Cas (aside). I think he'd be averse, though, to that mode. To see with my eyes, if I could but make her! Oli. With a few flowery lines we'd pay the baker. (With enthusiasm) Tradesmen with gentle feelings we'd pay so, sir; A comic song would satisfy the grosser. A poet never yet was a great eater, We'd pay the butcher with a little meat-a. The subject of "Mazeppa" was afterwards treated by Mr. Burnand in a burlesque brought out at the Gaiety in 1885. Of Sergeant Talfourd's dramatic works the only one, apparently, that has been travestied is "Ion," which had to submit to the ridicule of Fox Cooper in 1836. In that year Cooper's perversion was played both at the Garrick Theatre and at the Queen's, in the first case with Conquest as the The pseudo-Elizabethanisms of Sheridan Knowles naturally attracted the attention of the comic playwrights. The opportunities were, indeed, only too tempting; and so I have to record the production of burlesques based upon five plays—"The Wife," "Virginius," "Alfred the Great," "William Tell," and "The Hunchback." The first named has for its full title "The Wife: a Tale of Mantua." The "burlesque burletta," by Joseph Graves (Strand, 1837), is called "The Wife: a Tale of a Mantua Maker." Mariana (first played by Ellen Tree) here becomes Mary Ann Phipps, the said mantua-maker; Floribel is Flora, a servant-of-all-work. Leonardo and Ferrardo Gonzaga figure as Marmaduke Jago, landlord of the Green Man, and Zachariah Jago, usurping that dignity; Count Florio is Floor'em (a police-sergeant), Julian St. Pierre is Jack Peters—and so forth. The travestie is fairly close, but the wit and humour are not of brilliant quality. Even less to be commended is "Virginius the Rum 'Un," perpetrated by William Rogers, the comedian, and performed at Sadler's Wells in the same year as Graves's effort. This is but a tedious assault upon "Virginius." The scene is laid in Islington, and Virginius is a butcher. Appius Claudius, here called Sappyis, is a sergeant of police. Dentatus is "Tentaties"; Icilius is "Isilyus." Claudius claims Virginia as his apprentice, and Virginius stabs her with a skewer; the instrument, however, sticks only in her stay-bone, and so no harm is done. "Virginius" had very much more justice done to it when Leicester Buckingham made it the basis of a burlesque at the St. James's in 1859. Then Charles Young was the Virginius, Mrs. Frank Matthews the Virginia, and Miss Lydia Thompson a "Mysterious Stranger," introduced, apparently, only for the sake of a pas seul. In this piece the puns are very plentiful, if not always good. Thus, Virginia says:— Oh, deary me! each day I'm growing thinner: Nurse says, because I never eat my dinner; But that's not it;—in my heart there's a pain Which makes me sigh, and sigh, and all in vain! I've lost the plump round waist I used to prize, And grow thin, spite of my long-wasted sighs. I love—oh! such a nice young man!—but, oh! Does he love me?—that's what I want to know. When we met at a party, I could see That he was just the party to suit me; And to the words I spoke, on his arm leaning, Love lent a sigh to give a si-lent meaning. But he said nothing soft—that's what I cry for; I sigh for one whose heart I can't deci-pher. Virginius, like so many other burlesque characters, delivers himself of a reminiscence of "To be or not to be," and at the close it is found that Virginius has not really killed his daughter, because she "pads." "Alfred the Great," one of Knowles' historical plays, suggested portions of the burlesque called "Alfred the Great, or the Minstrel King," which Robert B. Brough wrote for the Olympic in 1859. In this, Robson was the King, Miss Herbert his aide-de-camp, and F. Vining his commander-in-chief, with other parts by Horace Wigan and Miss Hughes. Knowles's "William Tell" (1825), or the story embodied in it has been the basis of half The first Lord Lytton's verse-plays—bristling as they do with fustian and bombast—have naturally been frequently travestied. Note the number of occasions on which "The Lady of Lyons" has fallen a prey to the irreverent. Altogether there have been six notable burlesques of this drama. H. J. Byron wrote two, the first of which—"The Latest Edition of the Lady of Lyons"—was produced at the Strand in 1858. This, in the following year, was freshened up and re-presented to the public as "The Very Latest Edition" of the popular drama. In 1878, at the Gaiety, came Mr. Herman Merivale's "vaudeville," "The Lady of Lyons Married and Settled," which is not only quite the best of the travesties on this topic, but one of the cleverest ever written. It sparkles with good things from beginning to end. Claude, it seems, has "taken to philosophy, and says we are all descended from monkeys." Power to thine elbow, thou newest of sciences, All the old landmarks are ripe for decay; Wars are but shadows, and so are alliances, Darwin the Great is the man of the day. All other 'ologies want an apology; Bread's a mistake—Science offers a stone; Nothing is true but Anthropobiology— Darwin the Great understands it alone. Mighty the great evolutionist teacher is, Licking Morphology clean into shape; Lord! what an ape the professor or preacher is, Ever to doubt his descent from an ape. Man's an Anthropoid—he cannot help that, you know— First evoluted from Pongos of old; He's but a branch of the cat-arrhine cat, you know— Monkey, I mean—that's an ape with a cold. Fast dying out are man's later Appearances, Cataclysmitic Geologies gone; Now of Creation completed the clearance is, Darwin alone you must anchor upon. Primitive Life-Organisms were chemical, "Busting" spontaneous under the sea; Purely subaqeous, panaquademical, Was the original Crystal of Me. I'm the Apostle of mighty Darwinity, Stands for Divinity—sound much the same— Apo-theistico-Pan-Asininity Only can doubt whence the lot of us came. Down on your knees, Superstition and Flunkeydom! Won't you accept such plain doctrines instead? What is so simple as primitive Monkeydom, Born in the sea with a cold in its head? This has some claim to rank with the ditties on the same subject by Lord Neaves and Mortimer Collins. But Claude has also gone in for something less innocent than Darwinianism. He is flirting with Babette, a pretty laundry-maid, the beloved of Gaspar. Of her, Gaspar sings as follows, in a clever parody of "Sally in our Alley":— To catch a lover on the hip, There's none like fair Babet-te! You'd love to kiss her rosy lip, But, ah! she'll never let 'ee! Yet shall she wash my Sunday suit, Tho' she my suit refuses, For, oh! she washes far the best Of all the blanchissooses! For washing-day all round the year, She ever sticks to one day; She takes my linen Friday night, And brings it back o' Monday! When I bestow the lordly franc, 'Tis sweet to hear her "Thankee"— She mends my hooks and darns my eyes, And marks my pocky-hanky! She calls the wandering button home, However hard I cuss it; She's good at collar and at cuff, And truly great at gusset! To catch a lover on the hip, There's none like fair Babet-te! You'd love to kiss her rosy lip, But, ah! she'll never let 'ee! In the course of the piece there is a good deal of direct parody of Lytton's style, both in prose and verse. For example, Claude says at one point to Babette:—
Again:—
After Mr. Merivale's piece came one on the same subject by Mr. W. Younge (1879); another by Mr. Clifton (Lyne), played in the country in 1882; and yet another, by Mr. Reece (also played in the country) in 1884. This last was entitled "The Lady of Lyons Married and Claude Unsettled." Ten years after the first burlesque of "The Lady of Lyons" appeared the first burlesque of Lord Lytton's "Rightful Heir." This was "The Frightful Hair" of Mr. Burnand, seen at the Haymarket in 1868-9. In 1868 also, publicity was given to "The Right-Fall Heir" of Mr. H. T. Arden. In the autumn of 1873 Mr. Irving revived at the Lyceum Lord Lytton's "Richelieu," and the play was speedily followed at the Olympic by the "Richelieu Redressed" of Mr. Reece. This is remarkable, to begin with, as being written throughout in blank verse—an agreeable In the great Lexicon of Politics There's no such word as Truth! In the "curse of Rome" scene, Richelieu draws around himself "the awful circle of the Daily Press!" Fun, too, is made of the well-known exit of Baradas at the words "All in despite of my lord Cardinal," and also of the various ways in which actors are wont to pronounce the simple word "Julie." The piece has a strong political flavour throughout, in compliment, no doubt, to the general election, which was then in prospect. Richelieu thus soliloquises:— A general election! At the word Upspring a thousand hopes—ten thousand fears! From the great Limbo of past sessions rise The ghost of certain Legislative Acts To taunt me with my shifting policy: Amidst them, gaunt and frowning—Income-tax Broods o'er my heart—I cannot take it off! While lesser demons, labelled—Sugar, Tea, Malt, Hops, and kindred duties—hover round And gibber, "Where's your popularity?" For this reward I have to bear the brunt Of deputations—tedious committees, The dull assaults of country members, and Whitebait as large as herrings. Ah, the fish At ministerial banquets should be Plaice! Of Richelieu's genius for suspicion the Duke of Orleans and his party thus discourse:— Duke. Breathe not the words "'Tis wet." He'll twist that phrase Into reflections on th' existing reign, Because you chanced to say, "It isn't fair!" Baradas. There's truth, sir, in your jest; 'tis hard to say What is a safe discussion nowadays! La Foix. Even the King falls under his distrust! Malesherbes. He treats him like a child in leading-strings! Duke. Ay! at the royal breakfast Richelieu stands, And cracks each egg—to see no treason's hatched. All (laughing). Well said! Duke.His caution o'er the dinner broods, And in each pÂtÉ sees a dangerous spy. Baradas. Escorts the King to bed, and, lest his charge Should dream of marriage, secretly removes The Royal matches, as suggestive! It was characteristic of Mr. W. S. Gilbert that he should himself set the example of burlesquing his own work. I have already made reference to "The Happy Land," the travestie of his "Wicked World," which he and Mr. Gilbert Arthur a'Beckett prepared for the Court Theatre in 1873. It was in this piece that the personal appearance of three prominent living statesmen was closely imitated by certain of the performers, with the result of bringing down upon the culprits the veto of His High-and-Mightiness the Lord Chamberlain. In 1876 two of Mr. Gilbert's plays were burlesqued—"Broken Hearts" and "Dan'l Druce"; the former under the name of "Cracked Heads," the latter under that of "Dan'l Tra-Duced"; both being brought out at the same theatre—the Strand, and both being the work of the same author—Mr. Arthur Clements, who, however, had in "Cracked Heads" the assistance of Mr. Frederick Hay. "Dan'l Druce" was not a particularly good subject; but "Broken Heads," with its occasionally overstrained sentiment, was fairly open to polite ridicule. In the original, Why do you love the clock, good sister? tell. Vapid. The earth goes round; the moon, with silvery smile; The p'lice cerulean who the cooks beguile; The turncock, too, precursor of the spring; The German band, and all that sort of thing. Most things go round, in fact; and who shall mock? The clock goes round: that's why I love the clock. In this genial little piece, presented at the Strand in 1876, Mr. Edward Terry was the monster, here called Monsta; Miss Lottie Venne and Miss Angelina Claude were the ladies Tilda and Vapid, and Mr. Harry Cox was the Prince Florian, here called Dorian. It will be remembered, by the way, that it has been the fate of one of Mr. Gilbert's comic operas to be parodied—surely a case of gilding refined gold! The opera was "Ruddigore," which was chaffed, more or less effectively, in the little piÈce d'occasion called "Ruddy George, or Robin Redbreast," brought out at Toole's Theatre in 1887. The melodrama of the last half-century has received due attention at the hands of the stage satirists. Buckstone's "Green Bushes," for example, had its comic counterpart in H. J. Byron's "Grin Bushes," performed at the Strand in 1864. It was Byron, too, who burlesqued Boucicault's "Colleen Bawn," under the title of "Little Eily O'Connor" (Drury Lane, 1861). The story of Rip Van Winkle, made so popular in England by Mr. Jefferson, has been handled in the spirit of travestie both by Mr. Reece (at the Folly in In 1888 Mrs. Bernard Beere was playing at the OpÉra Comique in "Ariane," a rather full-blooded drama by Mrs. Campbell Praed. This was at once burlesqued at the Strand by Mr. Burnand, whose "Airey Annie" (as rendered by Mr. Edouin, Miss Atherton, and Miss Ayrtoun) proved to be a very mirth-provoking product. The heroine, Airey Annie thus accounted for her sobriquet:— Untaught, untidy, hair all out of curl, A gutter child, a true Bohemian girl, And up and down the airey steps I strayed, Until the little boys about began To call me by the name of "Airey Anne." Among miscellaneous satires upon the conventional stage products may be named Byron's "Rosebud of Stinging-Nettle Farm" (Crystal Palace, 1862), Mr. Reece's "Brown and the Brahmins" (Globe, 1869), and Mr. Matthison's "More than Ever" (Gaiety and Court, 1882)—the last-named being written in ridicule of the modern Surrey-side "blood-curdler." So much for the travestie of English melodrama. When we come to deal with the burlesque of melodrama derived from the French, a large field opens out before us. Going back to 1850, we find that Hugo's "NÔtre Dame," as dramatised in England, has suggested to Albert Smith a comic piece called "Esmeralda," brought out at the Adelphi. The subject is next taken up by H. J. Byron, whose "Esmeralda or the 'Sensation' Goat" belongs to the Strand and 1861. Then Fanny Josephs was the Esmeralda, Marie Wilton the Gringoire, Eleanor Bufton the Phoebus, Clarke the Quasimodo, and Rogers the Claude Frollo. Gringoire was made to introduce himself in this punning fashion:— I am a comic, tragic, epic poet. I'll knock you off a satire or ode Venice on, Aye, or write any song like Alfred Tenny-song. Something from my last new extravaganza— Come now (to Clopin), a trifling stanza shall I stand, sir? Let me in some way merit your esteem: Ode to a creditor—a first-rate theme. Clop. Thankee, I'd rather not; the fact is, you're—— Gring. But a poor author—that is, rauther poor. The baker, a most villainous character, Has stopped supplies.... Because I did a trifling milk-bill owe. My tailor, who for years this youth hath made for, Closed his account, account o' clothes not paid for. The gasman, looking on me as a cheater, Finished my rhyme by cutting off my metre. Esmeralda, who is a dancer, expresses her "delight in all things saltatory":— Some people like dear wine, give me cheap hops, Where fountains spout and where the weasel pops; My love for trifling trips I can't conceal: E'en when I read I always skip a deal; I prefer columbine before all plants, And, at the play, give me a piece by Dance. Phoebus, declaring his love for Esmeralda, makes use of a pun somewhat above the Byronic average:— Alonzo Cora loved with all his might, And Petrarch was forlorn for Laura quite: You're worth to me, dear maid, a score o' Coras; Yes, to this bachelor, a batch o' Lauras. In 1879, at the Gaiety, Byron returned to the topic, and produced the piece which he called "Pretty Esmeralda." At the same theatre, in 1887, one saw the same subject treated in the "Miss Esmeralda" of Messrs. F. Leslie and H. Mills—a piece in which Miss Marion Hood, as the heroine, played prettily to the Frollo of Mr. E. J. Lonnen, and in which the late George Stone laid the foundation of his too brief success. Boucicault's version of "Les FrÈres Corses" was produced in London by Charles Kean in 1852, and was quickly followed by a travestie. This was furnished by Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett and Mark Lemon at the Haymarket (April, 1852), under the title of "O Gemini! or the Brothers of Listen! this hour, five hundred years ago— It may be more or less a second or so— In the Dei Franchi family there died, I think it was upon the female side, The very greatest of our great-great-grandmothers, Leaving ('tis often thus) two orphan brothers. They took an oath, and signed it, as I think, In blood—a horrid substitute for ink. They swore if either was in any mess, If either's landlord put in a distress, Or of their goods came to effect a clearance, They'd to each other enter an appearance. Maynard. But you have never seen a ghost— Fabien.That's true; But I shall see one soon, by all that's blue: For 't is a fact not easily explained, The ghost has in the family remained, We've tried all means—still he has stalked about, And nobody could ever pay him out. We let apartments, sir; but deuce a bit Will the ghost take our notices to quit. Later, just before Louis' apparition, Fabien says:— I feel a pain about my ears and nose, As if the latter had repeated blows. I shouldn't wonder if they're at it now. I'll write to him. (Writes) "Dear brother, how's your eye? Yours ever, Fabien. Send me a reply." I'm sure he's subjected to fierce attacks, For as I seal my note I feel the whacks! H. J. Byron, who travestied nearly everything, of course did not let the "Corsican Brothers" escape him, and his "Corsican 'Bothers'" duly figured at the Globe in 1869. Messrs. Burnand and H. P. Stephens followed, at the Gaiety in 1880, with "The Corsican Brothers & Co.," and in 1881 (at the Royalty) Mr. G. R. Sims made his dÉbut as a writer of burlesque with "The Of Course-Akin-Brothers, Babes in the Wood." In this he began the action with Fabien and Louis as the Babes and Chateau Renaud as the Wicked Uncle, introducing a certain Rosie Posie, who is maid to Mme. dei Franchi and sweetheart of Alfred Meynard. At the end of the first scene Father Time came on, and summed up the situation in a song:— Kind friends in front, you here behold a figure allegorical: Excuse me if at times I pause and for my paregoric call. I want to tell you all about this story Anglo-Corsican, And do the best in spite of cough and voice that's rather hoarse I can. Old Father Time I am, you guess; 't is I who rule the universe, And cause the changes which I sing in this the poet's punny verse! So while the scene is changing, here I sing this song preparative, To help you, as a chorus should, to understand the narrative. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! As chorus to this tragedy, to act my painful doom it is. In spite of cough, sciatica, lumbago, and the rheumatiz. The little boys who in the wood the robins saved from perishing Are two young men for one young girl a hopeless passion cherishing. In Corsica with his mamma young Fabien dei Franchi is; The other one in Paris lives, and growing rather cranky is. As lady-help accepted her for foiling the abomina- Ble plans the wicked uncle laid the brothers to assassinate, And Rosie still in Corsica contrives all hearts to fascinate. To Paris went the uncle, too, to let coiffeurs their talent try, And now he is an agÈd buck and famous for his gallantry. He's bought a wig, and paints his face—three times a day he'll carmine it, He asks young wives to opera balls, and swears there's little harm in it. In the second act Meynard brings a friend with him to Corsica, and thus presents him to Mme. dei Franchi:— A friend of mine who's come this trip with me, The customs of the country for to see. The customs, when he landed, landed him— He's cust 'em rather, I can tell you, mim! Friend. 'Tain't pleasant when a chap on pleasure's bent To find the call of duty cent. per cent. Mad. You're welcome, sir, although our customs seize you: A triple welcome, and I hope the trip'll please you. Previous to the first entry of Louis' ghost, Fabien says:— I feel so strange, I know poor Loo is seedy; I dreamt I saw his ghost all pale and bleedy. I'll write him. Where's the ink? Lor, how I shudder! (Looks about for ink) I'm on the ink-quest now—poor absent brudder. The ink!—the quill! Ah! this, I think, will do. (Sits and writes) "Louis, old cock, how wags the world with you?" (Music—he shudders) I feel as if a ghost were at my elbow handy. This goes to prove I want a drop of brandy. Of the other puns in the piece the following are perhaps fair specimens. At the bal masquÉ, Louis, meeting Emilie de Lesparre, says:— Why are you here? Emilie. I came because I'm asked (puts on mask). Louis. This is no place for you to cut a shine; 'Tain't womanly. Emilie.I know it's masky-line. Again:— Louis. My dagger awaits you—for your blood I faint! Renaud. Your dagger awaits—you'd aggerawate a saint. In the final tableau, Chateau Renaud is advised to take some brandy; but he asks instead for "a go of gin—I want the gin-go spirit." The latest of the burlesques on this subject was supplied—also for the Royalty—by Mr. Cecil Raleigh, whose "New Corsican Brothers" played in 1889, had more than one whimsical feature to recommend it. One of the brothers (Mr. Arthur Roberts) was supposed to be an English linen-draper, who, whenever anything was happening to the other brother, had a wild desire to measure out tape—and so on. The dialogue was in prose. "Belphegor," the generic name bestowed upon the numerous adaptations of "Paillasse," gave birth to at least one travestie of importance—that by Leicester Buckingham, which saw the light at the Strand in 1856, the year in which Charles Dillon played in one of the adaptations (at the Lyceum). "The Duke's Motto," in which Fechter "starred" at the same theatre, was the origin of H. J. Byron's "The Motto: I am 'All There'"—a piece seen at the Strand in 1863, with Miss Maria Simpson as the Duke Gonzaque, George Honey as LagardÈre, and Ada Swanborough and Fanny Josephs as Blanche and Pepita. Among much which is mere punning, though deter enough for that commodity, I find this little bit of social satire:— Receipt to make a party:—First of all, Procure some rooms, and mind to have 'em small; Select a good warm night, so draughts may chill 'em; Ask twice as many as it takes to fill 'em; For though the half you ask may not attend, The half that comes is sure to bring a friend; Select a strong pianist, and a gent Who through the cornet gives his feelings vent; Give them some biscuits, and some nice Marsala; Make a refreshment-room of the front parlour; Garnish with waltzes, flirtings, polking, ballads, Tongue, fowl, and sandwiches, limp lobster salads, Smiles, shaking hands, smirks, simpers, and what not; Throw in the greengrocer, and serve up hot. It is to H. J. Byron that we owe the burlesque of "Robert Macaire," which, with Fanny Josephs and J. Clarke as Macaire and Strop, brightened the boards of the Globe Theatre in 1870. The drama of which Ruy Blas is the central figure has been twice travestied among us—once in 1873 by Mr. Reece ("Ruy Blas Righted," at the Vaudeville), and more recently (in 1889) by Messrs. F. Leslie and H. Clark ("Ruy Blas, or the BlasÉ RouÉ," at the Gaiety). "Diplomacy," adapted from "Dora," appealed to Mr. Burnand's sense of the ridiculous, and the result was "Dora and Diplunacy" (Strand, 1878), in which the weak spots of the original were divertingly laid bare. In the same year, Mr. Burnand burlesqued, at the Royalty, his own adaptation, "Proof, or a Celebrated Case," under the title of "Over-Proof, or What was Found in a Celebrated Case." To 1879 belong two clever travesties—"Another Drink," by Messrs. Savile Clarke and Clifton (Lyne), suggested by "Drink," and brought out at the Folly; and "Under-Proof," Mr. Edward Rose's reductio ad absurdum of "Proof." In the latter piece, besides many well-constructed puns, there are many pleasant turns of In my native land, as you're aware, My Christian name's pronounced like this—Pi-erre, But here I'm made a nobleman of France, For everybody calls me Peer Lorance. Of the Anglo-French melodrama of recent years, Mr. Burnand has been the frequent and successful satirist. He capped "Fedora" with "Stage-Dora" (Toole's, 1883), "Theodora" with "The O'Dora" (same theatre, 1885), and "La Tosca" with "Tra la la Tosca" (Royalty, 1890). This last contained some of the happiest of its author's efforts, in the way both of ingenious punning and effective rhyming. Here, for example, is a song put into the mouth of the Baron Scarpia, the "villain" both of the play and of the travestie:— I am the bad Baron Scarpia! You know it at once, and how sharp y'are. Than a harpy I am much harpier— How harpy I must be! There never was blackguard or scamp To me could hold candle or lamp. I'm equal to twenty-five cargoes Of Richards, Macbeths, and Iagos! For nobody ever so far goes As Scarpia—meaning me. I'm chief of the Italiani Peelerini Me-tropoli-tani! Around me they wheedle and carney— They'd all curry favour, you see. And, buzzing about me like flies, Are myrmidons, creatures, and spies. They're none of them mere lardy-dardy, But cunning, unprincipled, hardy, And come from Scotlandini Yardi, La Forza Constabularee. During the present year, the interest gradually excited by successive performances of plays by Henrik Ibsen has culminated in the production of the inevitable burlesques. More than one clever travestie of Ibsen has been printed—e.g., those by Mr. J. P. Hurst and Mr. Wilton Jones; but the first to be performed was that entitled "Ibsen's Ghost, or Toole up to Date," which is from the witty pen of Mr. J. M. Barrie. This starts as a sort of sequel to "Hedda Gabler," which it mainly satirises; but there are allusions also to "Ghosts" and to "A Doll's House," with some general sarcasm at the expense of Ibsen's peculiarities. The dialogue is in prose, with a concluding vocal quartett; the writer's touch is as light as it is true; and the composition, as a whole, is thoroughly exhilarating. The three-act piece, "The Gifted Lady," in which Mr. Robert Buchanan sought to ridicule not only Ibsen but other "emancipating" agencies of the time, was, unfortunately, not so successful as Mr. Barrie's slighter and brighter work. It abounded in excellent epigram, but lacked geniality and humour. In "Ibsen's Ghost" Mr. Toole and Miss Eliza Johnstone renewed old successes, while Miss Irene Vanbrugh gave signs of aptitude for burlesque. In "The Gifted Lady" Miss Fanny Brough, Miss Cicely Richards, Mr. W. H. Vernon, and Mr. Harry Paulton showed all their usual skill, but, unfortunately, to no purpose. |