the actors above given. Henry Placide enjoyed in public estimation
a fame worthy and well deserved. He was an actor of the old school,
and his conceptions were the fruit of appreciative and careful
study; his acting was a lucid and harmonious interpretation of his
author; and his elocution, clear and resonant, was the speech of a
scholar and a gentleman. The artistic sense was never forgotten in his
delineations, and his name on the bills was a guaranty of intellectual
pleasure. He was not broadly funny like Burton, or Holland; but those
who remember his _Sir Harcourt Courtley_, his _Jean Jacques François
Antoine Hypolite de Frisac_, in "Paris and London," and his _Clown_,
in Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night," will not deny that he was the owner
of a rich vein of eccentric humor, and that he worked his possession
effectually. He was an expert in the Gallic parts where the speech is a
struggle between French and English, and, indeed, since his departure
they, too, have vanished from the stage. But those who saw him as
_Haversac_, in "The Old Guard"; as _The Tutor_, in "To Parents and
Guardians"; or as _Monsieur Dufard_, in "The First Night," will bear
witness to his inimitable manner, and to his facile blending of the
grave and gay. We shall never forget how, in the last-named character
(_Mons. Dufard_), having engaged his daughter for a "first appearance,"
and having declared his own ability to manage the drum in the orchestra
on the occasion, he, suddenly, during the mimic rehearsal, at an
allusion in the text to sunrise, stamped violently on the stage; and to
the startled manager's exclamation of "What's that!" serenely replied:
"Zat ees ze cannon vich announce ze brek of day--I play him on ze
big drum in ze night." In choleric old men Placide was unsurpassed.
All the touches that go toward the creation of a grim, irascible,
thwarted, bluff old gentleman, he commanded at will. His _Colonel
Hardy_, in "Paul Pry," for instance, what an example was that! I hear
him, now, at the close of the comedy, when things had drifted to a
happy anchorage--hear him saying in reply to the soothing remark: "Why,
Colonel, you've every thing your own way,"--"Yes, I know I have every
thing my own way; but ---- it, I hav'n't _my own way_ of having it!"
His repertory covered a wide range; and we retain vivid recollections
of his _Sir Peter Teazle_, his _Doctor Ollapod_, and his _Silky_; the
last in "The Road to Ruin," in which comedy, by the way, we remember
seeing Placide, Blake, Burton, Lester, Bland, and Mrs. Hughes; truly a
phenomenal cast.
Such, briefly sketched, was the actor who constituted one of Burton's
strongest pillars. For some years he played at no other theatre in New
York. He gave enjoyment to thousands, and in dramatic annals his name
and achievements have distinguished and honorable record. As one of the
many who remain to own their debt of pleasure and instruction, the
present writer pays this tribute to the genius and memory of Henry
Placide.[7]
[7] "When Edwin Forrest was in Europe on a visit, he was asked whom he
deemed the best American actor; he promptly and unequivocally replied:
'Henry Placide is unquestionably the best general actor on the American
boards, and I doubt whether his equal can be found in England.'"--HENRY
DICKINSON STONE'S "Theatrical Reminiscences."
We now summon another name from the famous corps, for the purpose of
analysis, since we should be ill content with the cold respect of a
passing glance at an artist so celebrated as was William Rufus Blake. We
can recall no actor of the past, and we know of but one in the present,
comparable with Blake in certain lines of old men--certainly in the rôle
of tender pathos like _Old Dornton_, and in the portrayal of a sweetly
noble nature framed in venerable simplicity, as in _Jesse Rural_, he had
no equal; and it is simply truth to say that with him departed from the
stage that unique, all-affecting, wondrous embodiment of _Geoffrey
Dale_, in "The Last Man."
The characteristics of Blake's power were a broad heartiness, suggestive
sentiment, and eloquent idealization. These traits informed respectively
the parts he essayed, and gave to each in turn rare flow of spirit,
richness of color, and poetic fervor. For the verbal expression of these
salient elements, he possessed a tuneful voice, which rose or fell as
the sway of feeling dictated, and his delivery was singularly felicitous
in tone and emphasis. Nor was he lacking in a humor at once subtle and
delicate, happily evinced in his acting of _Mr. Primrose_, in the
comedietta of "Bachelors' Torments."
Those who saw Blake at the period of which we are writing, found it hard
to believe that the _Sir Anthony Absolute_ of aldermanic proportions
before them was once a slender young man and played light comedy! Yet so
it was. Very old play-goers will recollect the Chatham Garden theatre,
and perhaps some tenacious memory bears record of having seen Blake
there in the long ago; for there he first appeared to a New York
audience, in 1824, playing _Frederick_, in Colman's "Poor Gentleman." We
never saw him earlier than at Burton's, and then with added years had
come a rotundity of person which, however unobjectionable in the famous
impersonations of his prime, was not, it must be confessed, the ideal
physique of light comedy; so his _Frederick_ had long departed and his
_Sir Robert Bramble_ had appeared.
The first time we saw Blake was in "The Road to Ruin," and the
impression he made has never been effaced. We were young, it is true,
and sentimental, and easily moved; but our heart tells us that the
effect would be the same could we see the actor in the play to-morrow.
We have read since of the extraordinary sensation produced by the great
Munden in the part of _Old Dornton_; but we have an abiding faith that
the acting of the famous Englishman would have been no revelation to
Blake; and we cannot, indeed, conceive of any added touch that would not
have impaired, rather than heightened, the latter's superb delineation.
But Blake's portrayal of the outraged, doting, fond, tender father, is,
like his _Jesse Rural_, so fresh in the memory of living persons, that
we feel it to be needless to descant upon its beauties. Few will forget
the years of his last and long engagement at Wallack's--a fitting crown
for a great artistic career. Blake played many parts and rarely touched
but to adorn. Even his _Malvolio_, had it not been for the advent of
Charles Fisher (who was born in yellow stockings and cross-gartered),
would have passed into history as a carefully conceived and highly
finished performance. Whenever we see Mr. John Gilbert we are reminded
of Blake. There is a grace of action, a courtliness of manner,
inseparable from Gilbert, which lends to all his efforts an elevating
charm, a feature Blake did not possess in like degree. But the two
actors belonged to the same school; their traditions will be much akin;
and neither loses in being spoken of in the same breath, and with the
same accent of admiration.
Following Placide and Blake is the name of an actor better remembered
than either, and whose death is of comparatively recent date. We refer
to John Brougham, who for thirty years and more was one of New York's
prime favorites, and his name is associated with many of the drama's
brightest and worthiest triumphs. His inexhaustible flow of spirits, in
his best days, pervaded all his acting, and invested the most
unattractive part with an alluring charm, as many a prosaic spot in
nature becomes enchanted land by the music of falling waters. Add to
this exuberant vitality a rich endowment of mother wit; a bright
intelligence; keen sympathy and appreciation, and rare personal
magnetism, and you have before you "glorious John," whose hearty voice
it was always a pleasure to hear, and whose face, beaming with humor,
was always welcomed with delight.
[Illustration: MR. BURTON AS CAPTAIN CUTTLE.]
Brougham was Burton's stage manager in 1848, and his dramatization of
"Dombey and Son" was first produced in that year. The representation of
this play established the Chambers Street Theatre, drew attention to the
talents of the stock company, and put money into Burton's purse. If
theatres, like other things, succeed either by hook or crook, as the
saying is, surely it was by hook that the manager won fame and fortune,
for the digit of _Captain Cuttle_ held sway like a wizard's wand. The
temptation to dwell here on this renowned Burtonian impersonation is
hard to resist; but we must be patient and bide our time.
Brougham played _Bunsby_ and _Bagstock_, investing the oracular
utterances of the tar, and the roughness and toughness and "devilish"
slyness of the _Major_, with a humor and spirit all his own. We laugh
outright as we think of that scene where _Cuttle_ is being rapidly
reduced to agony and despair by _Mrs. MacStinger_, and is rescued
therefrom by _Bunsby_, who, with a hoarse "Avast, my lass; avast!"
advances solemnly on the redoubtable female, and with a soothing gravity
ejects the entire _MacStinger_ family, following in the rear
himself--_Cuttle_ meanwhile gazing in speechless astonishment at the
unexpected succor, until the door is closed; and then, drawing an
immense breath, and turning toward the audience his inimitable face,
exclaims in a tone of profound respect and admiration: "There's wisdom!"
It was a great treat to see Burton and Brougham together. The two actors
were so ready, so full of wit, so alive to each other's points and
by-play, that any fanciful interpolation of the text, or humorous
impromptu, by the one, was instantly responded to by the other; and the
house was often thrown into convulsions of merriment by these purely
unpremeditated sallies. This was notably the case in the afterpiece of
"An Unwarrantable Intrusion"--committed by Mr. Brougham upon Mr.
Burton--when in the tag the comedians suddenly assumed their own
persons, and, addressing each other by their proper names, engaged in a
droll colloquy respecting the dilemma of having nothing to say to
conclude the piece; and each suggesting in turn something that ought to
or might be said to an audience under such peculiar and distressing
circumstances,--the audience meanwhile in a state of hilarious
excitement, drinking in every sparkling jest and repartee, and wishing
the flow of humor would last forever.
And here we are reminded of an incident not down in the bills, which
furnished an audience with an unlooked-for and affecting episode. It
occurred during the performance of Colman's comedy of "John Bull,"
produced for the benefit of a favorite actor; Burton playing _Job
Thornberry_, and Brougham, who had volunteered for the occasion,
appearing in his capital rôle of _Dennis Brulgruddery_. Brougham was no
longer with Burton--an estrangement existed between them of which the
public was aware--and the conjunction of the two actors naturally
awakened a lively interest. It chances in the comedy that _Mary
Thornberry_ finds a refuge in her distress at the "Red Cow," and is
greatly befriended by _Dennis_. Her father, discovering her there, and
grateful for the service rendered, exclaims: "You have behaved like an
emperor to her. Give me your hand, landlord!" Now, in the play, the
reply of _Dennis_ is: "Behaved!--(_refusing his hand_)--Arrah, now, get
away with your blarney,"--but Brougham paused for a moment before
Burton's outstretched hand, and then, as if yielding to an impulse,
stretched forth his, and the two actors stood with clasped hands amidst
an outburst of applause that fairly shook the building. Of course they
were "called out" at the close, and Brougham, in the course of a
felicitous little speech, remarked--alluding, perhaps, to the success of
his Lyceum not being all he could wish--that he had "lately run off the
track"; to which Burton, in his turn, responded by saying: "Mr. Brougham
says he has 'run off the track.' Well, he _has_ run off the track; but
he hasn't burst his boiler yet!" At this speech the enthusiasm of the
audience knew no bounds; and indeed, with the exception of Mary Taylor's
farewell benefit, we can recall no theatrical occasion where more
genuine feeling was manifested.
But to return to "Dombey and Son." Mrs. Brougham was the original
_Susan Nipper_, and played the part acceptably; but all previous
_Nippers_ suffered eclipse when Caroline Chapman appeared at a later
date, giving us a _Susan_ that seemed to have sprung full-_Nippered_
from the head of Boz himself. Her inimitable acting and ring of
delivery were like a new light turned on the scene. Her flow of
spirit and alert movement, her independent air and saucy glance, her
not-to-be-put-down-under-any-circumstances manner,--all was freshness
and sparkle, and her presence was as welcome to the audience as a
summer shower to drooping wayside flowers. Miss Chapman was a great
acquisition to Burton's, and her bright individuality shone in all her
assumptions. Her line was the stage soubrette, a specialty which she
lifted entirely out of the commonplace and informed it with force and
distinction. It is a pleasure to place on record the memory of happy
hours that we owe to the performances of Caroline Chapman.
The original _Toots_ was Oliver B. Raymond, whom we never saw. T. B.
Johnston was his successor, and as that admirable comedian never did any
thing unacceptably, his _Toots_ was a memorable effort; and had _Uriah
Heep_ not followed we should have been satisfied with his _Toots_; but
when "Copperfield" was produced and Johnston appeared as _Heep_, it
seemed as if he was born for that and nothing else. Now that we think of
it, it seems to us, as we recall Johnston, that nature had peculiarly
fitted him for the delineation of many of Dickens's characters.
Something in his spare figure, his grotesqueness of demeanor, his
whimsical aspect, his odd manner of speech, continually suggested a
flavor of Boz; and whether as _Toots_, or _Heep_, or _Newman Noggs_, he
seemed to have glided into his element, and was _en rapport_ with the
great novelist.
We must not forget, in writing of "Dombey and Son," to note how much its
attraction was enhanced by the assumption, in 1849, of the part of
_Edith_ by Mrs. Josephine Russell (the present Mrs. Hoey). Laurence
Hutton, referring to the event in his volume of "Plays and Players,"
says: "Up to the time of her assumption of the rôle, _Edith_, in
Brougham's version of the story, was comparatively a secondary part, and
one to which but little attention had been paid either by performer or
audience. Mrs. Russell, however, by her refined and elegant manner,
brought _Edith_ and herself into favor and prominence. She made of
_Edith_ more than Brougham himself ever imagined could be made; and
_Edith_ made her a reputation and a success on the New York stage,
which, until her honorable and much-to-be-regretted retirement, she ever
sustained.[8]
[8] The first appearance of Mrs. Russell (whose maiden name was Shaw)
in Chambers Street was made September 3, 1849.
We have dwelt thus on "Dombey and Son," because, in the first place, it
gained for the Chambers Street Theatre an enduring public regard, and
was no doubt the incentive to the after-production of dramatizations of
Dickens, which gave us Burton in _Micawber_, _Squeers_, _Mr. Bumble_,
and _Sam Weller_; and because in so celebrating it we pay a deserved
tribute to Brougham, from whose fertile brain and ready pen it came. We
may say, in this connection, that not only as actor, but as playwright
also, Brougham achieved fame and honor. Many of his comedies are well
known to the stage, and are included in the published drama; and as a
writer of burlesque we question whether any thing better or funnier than
his "Po-ca-hon-tas or the Gentle Savage" has ever been composed. Of one
thing we are certain: an incarnate pun-fiend presided over its creation.
This extravaganza, first acted at Wallack's Lyceum, took the town by
storm, and its bons-mots, local hits, and trenchant witticisms, were on
the lips of everybody. In structure, idea, and treatment of theme, it
was ludicrous to a degree. Who does not remember Brougham and the late
Charles Walcot in their respective parts of _Powhattan_ and _Captain
Smith_?
It goes without saying that Brougham's Hibernian delineations were
perfect and to the manner born. Many an Irish farce we recall, during
his stay at Burton's, to which he gave a new lease of life; and we
congratulate ourselves that our memory holds record of having once seen
him as _Sir Lucius O'Trigger_, the only cast in our experience wherein
Sheridan's creation found a fitting representative.
We now pause before an actor of illustrious lineage; of a name honored
in dramatic annals by encomiums bestowed only upon abilities of the
highest order; an actor who, conscious of his inheritance of genius,
worthily perpetuates the traditions of his house; and who is now,
despite the flight of time, the most engaging and accomplished comedian
known to the American stage. Our readers will need no further
introduction to Lester Wallack, the "Mr. Lester" of Burton's, where
first we saw him so many years ago. We recall the evening when we sat in
the cosy parquette, awaiting with eager interest the rising of the
curtain on Charles Dance's comic drama of "Delicate Ground," in which
Mr. Lester would make his "first appearance since his return from
England" (so the bill ran), in the character of _Citizen Sangfroid_. We
say eager interest, for we had heard much of Mr. Lester: that he was
graceful, handsome, _distingué_,--in fact, splendid generally; and our
expectancy was akin to that of the watching astronomer--
"When a new planet swims into his ken."
At last the tinkle of the bell; the curtain rose, and enter Miss Mary
Taylor, the universal favorite, as _Pauline_. Her soliloquy closes with
the cue for _Sangfroid's_ entrance, and at the words, "Hush! my
husband!" a pause succeeded--and then from "door left" was protruded an
elegantly booted foot, and a moment later Lester stood before us, bowing
with characteristic ease and grace to the demonstrations of welcome. We
confess to an unconditional surrender on that occasion. The actual fact
was far beyond any expectation or hope. We thought we had never seen any
one quite so splendid; and _Sangfroid_ was forthwith invested with the
best and noblest elements that combine to elevate mankind. We endeavored
for many days afterward to conform our daily life to the general
teachings of _Sangfroid_; we imitated the gait and manner, the calm
aplomb of _Sangfroid_; the accent of _Sangfroid_ was impressed on all
our ordinary forms of speech; our conversation on whatever topic was
plentifully sprinkled with _Sangfroidisms_; in short, the whole tenor
of our existence was shaped and directed by _Sangfroid_ in the person of
Mr. Lester. We recovered in due course from our abject submission to the
spell of _Sangfroid_; but Lester continued to stretch forth the "sceptre
of fascination," and to his matchless grace and finish we owe many a
delightful recollection.
Then in early manhood,[9] the unrestrained alertness and vivacity of
youth were his in bounteous measure. He was in the _Percy Ardent_ and
_Young Rapid_ period, and had not yet entered the corridor of years at
the far end of which lurked the _blasé_ figure of "My Awful Dad." We
remember him in so many parts which in all likelihood he never will play
again! There was _Rover_, in "Wild Oats," that buskined hero, with his
captivating nonchalance dashed with tragic fire; his tender conversion
of _Lady Amaranth_--played, be it said, with all proper demureness by
Miss Lizzie Weston; his triumph over _Ephraim Smooth_--one of Blake's
instances of versatility--in a scene rich with the spirit of frolic
abandon; and his humorous tilt with _Sir George Thunder_--a belligerent
sea-dog, played by Burton as he alone could play it--an episode replete
with comic power;--all these contributed to a performance which we
revelled in many and many a night; and the memory of it, now as we
write, draws near in a succession of vivid pictures. There was
_Tangent_, in "The Way to Get Married," a capital part in Lester's
hands, blending manly action and debonair grace with that easy
transition to airy farcical expression, a favorite and effective
dramatic habit of this actor, and given full play in that memorable
prison scene in the comedy, when, a victim to adverse circumstances, and
actually fettered, he makes felicitous use of his handkerchief to hide
his mortification and his chains from the eyes of the heroine during her
visit of sympathy. _Percy Ardent_, in "The West End," was another of
his characteristic assumptions in those days; so also were _Young
Rapid_, in "A Cure for the Heartache," and the _Hon. Tom Shuffleton_, in
"John Bull"; and, indeed, Burton's frequent revivals of the old comedies
would have been a difficult matter without Lester; for in every one of
them a light comedy part is distinctly drawn, and unquestionably the
rarest among all dramatic artists is the first-class light comedian.
[9] Lester Wallack's first appearance in New York was made at the
Broadway Theatre, Sept. 27, 1847, as _Sir Charles Coldstream_ in "Used
Up."
Let any one who thinks otherwise endeavor to recall the names of those
who have been or are famous in that special line, and he will be
surprised to find how few he can enumerate. One might suppose that all
young actors would naturally incline toward light comedy, and be
ambitious in that direction, since in that sphere are found the charm of
youth, the expression of lofty sentiment, the impulse to chivalrous
action, the opportunity for the display of graceful and manly
bearing,--not to mention the lover, whom, as Emerson declares, all the
world loves; and why then, one may ask, should there not be always a
plentiful crop of ripening light comedians? Alas, it is not enough to be
young, good-looking, intelligent, and of virtuous impulse, or even a
lover. Something more is needed, and we conceive it to be that gift of
nature, which study and practice develop into seeming perfect art, but
which neither study nor practice can create; the gift, let us say, of
perceiving instinctively the salient points of a character, and going
beyond the author in felicitous and suggestive expression of them. It is
easier, we think, to compass tragedy; easier to simulate age; easier to
be funny; than to be at once airy and gay, delicately humorous, and
engagingly manly. There are fewer light comedians born,--that is the
whole story; and where we find one actor like Lester Wallack, we meet
with plenty of every other specialty. This was made strikingly evident
by Burton's experiments in supplying Lester's place, when the latter
joined his father in the establishment of Wallack's Lyceum. Charles
Fisher was imported, and he for a season essayed to succeed Lester; but
"The expectancy and rose of the fair state"
he was not, and it was not long before the fiddle of _Triplet_ and the
yellow stockings of _Malvolio_ emancipated him from the bondage of light
comedy, revealed his true powers, and made us grateful to Burton for
introducing to New York one of the best eccentric comedians of the day.
Dyott, Norton, and even Holman, were severally thrown into the breach,
such was the strait in which the manager found himself; and it was not
until he secured George Jordan that equilibrium was restored to the
company.
But to return. The versatility of Lester, so conspicuous throughout his
career, was early made apparent. We remember him as _Steerforth_, as
_Sir Andrew Aguecheek_, and _Captain Murphy Maguire_; and though in the
last he acted under the shadow of Brougham's rich impersonation, still
he was a delightful _Captain_. We saw him as the young lover, in "Paul
Pry"; as _Frederick_, in "The Poor Gentleman," and many more; besides
those parts, such as _Young Marlow_, _Charles Surface_, and _Captain
Absolute_, which need no reference, since they remain ripe and finished
conceptions in his present repertory. But of all his delineations of the
past, that which we linger on with the greatest pleasure, and which
affected us most, was his _Harry Dornton_, in "The Road to Ruin." From
the moment he appears beneath his father's window, importunate for
admittance, he awakens an interest and sympathy that follow him to the
end. The part abounds in touches of Lesterian hue and flavor: the scene
just mentioned; that wherein _Milford_ makes careless and heartless
allusion to _Old Dornton_, and is met by _Harry's_ eloquent and electric
rebuke; the scene with the _Widow Warren_, and with _Sophia_;--all are
charming; and we feel it to be no small tribute to hold in memory
Lester's _Harry_ side by side with the _Old Dornton_ of Blake.