particularly to the conception and execution of certain characters in
Dickens which undeniably he made his own; but we remember this actor in
other and sundry enjoyable delineations, of which brief mention may be
made. The odd aspect of Johnston, joined to his whimsical method, so in
keeping, as before remarked, with the creations of Boz, peculiarly
fitted him for the apt portrayal of those idiosyncrasies of nature and
temperament shadowed forth by characters in many of the old farces, in
which he often appeared, those pieces being quite the fashion in the
days of which we are writing. We may instance _Panels_, in "A School for
Tigers," as one of these; his part in "A Blighted Being" (the name quite
forgotten), was another; _Humphrey Dobbins_, in "The Poor Gentleman"
(that not a farce, however), was a capital portraiture, and an amusing
foil to Burton's _Sir Robert Bramble_; his _Miss Swithers_, in "A
Thousand Milliners," where he almost divided the honors with Burton as
_Madam Vandepants_;--these are a few of the many that come floating
back on the tide of recollection.
Bland was a useful member of Burton's company, though we think his stay
was brief, and he contributes less to memory, as it chances, than many
others. We never regarded him as a great actor, though we have read of
his being thought the best _Jacques_ of his day, and very fine as _Sir
Thomas Clifford_. We never saw him in either, and have no recollection
of "The Hunchback" being produced at the Chambers Street Theatre. In
"The Honeymoon" Burton himself was the _Jacques_. We remember Bland very
well as _Sulky_, in "The Road to Ruin," and as _Ham_, in "David
Copperfield," and both efforts were creditable and contributed to the
general success--his share in the exciting and touching scenes between
_Old Dornton_ and himself, as _Sulky_, being admirably done.
We are surprised that we remember so little interesting to record of
Jordan. Succeeding Lester, and deemed by many the peer of that
comedian, one might naturally suppose that his achievements would figure
largely in these reminiscences; but we can recall very few
impersonations of which we retain a vivid impression. We cannot concur
with that estimate of his powers which ranked him with Lester, yet we
cordially admit that he came nearer than any actor we know of. He was
very handsome, had a fine stage presence, and was agreeable in all that
he did. We recall his spirited performance of _Rover_; his _Kitely_, in
Ben Jonson's "Every Man in His Humor"; his _Ferdinand_, in "The
Tempest"; his _Lysander_, in "Midsummer Night's Dream"; and his _Captain
Hawksley_, in "Still Waters Run Deep," was superb and unequalled. It was
always a pleasure to see Jordan, and we owe to his acting many an hour
of enjoyment.
George Barrett--or, "Gentleman George," as he was quite as well
known--was one of Burton's company for a short period, and with his name
are associated many pleasant memories. Among them we may mention with
delight his performance of _Sir Andrew Aguecheek_, a companion picture
to Fisher's _Malvolio_. His long body and attenuated "make up," his
piping voice, his fantastic manner, and absurd assumption of
acumen,--all contributed to an embodiment artistic and entertaining in
the highest degree. He also played _Flute_, the Bellows-Mender, in the
revival of "Midsummer Night's Dream"; and it seems but yesterday, so
vivid is the remembrance, that we saw him stalking about the stage, in
the guise of Ben Jonson's bombastic hero, _Captain Bobadil_.
Old play-goers, if they remember nothing else of John Dyott, will
recollect his admirable reading--his distinct utterance--his fine
emphasis,--qualities specially noticeable in his Shakespearian
assumptions and in characters of a didactic cast; and which made
acceptable many a part he undertook, half redeeming it from deficiencies
consequent upon natural unfitness. It was such a pleasure to listen to
his delivery of the text, that you overlooked or pardoned inadequacy of
treatment in other respects. Necessarily his impersonations were of very
unequal merit. Certain phases of the character assumed might be justly
conceived and well executed; others manifestly lacking in the expression
of what was naturally suggested, or sufficiently obvious. We might cite
instances of this--_Claude Melnotte_ or _Alfred Evelyn_, for example;
but we prefer to think of him in his most agreeable aspects, which were
not conspicuous in light comedy, though that rôle, under the stress of
exigency, often fell to his lot.
We pleasantly recall him as _Lieut. Worthington_, in "The Poor
Gentleman"; as _Peregrine_, in "John Bull"; as _Penruddoch_, in "The
Wheel of Fortune"; as _Duke Orsino_, in "Twelfth Night"; as _Master
Ford_, in "The Merry Wives of Windsor"; and others that might be
mentioned. He was a useful member of the Chambers Street company, acted
always with intelligence and spirit, and, though leaving no great name,
deserves remembrance as a finished reader and conscientious artist.
Charles Fisher, well known to the present generation of play-goers as a
sterling comedian, came to Burton's after Lester's withdrawal, and, as
previously remarked, succeeded that actor as the exponent of light
comedy. We saw him in several characters of that order; but it must be
confessed that his efforts, however praiseworthy, were not such as to
induce a condition of complacency on the part of the management, with
regard to his capacity in that direction. But the whirligig of time, as
Shakespeare tells us, brings on its revenges; and in due course Mr.
Fisher had his, and a truly artistic one it was.
It came about on the second revival of "Twelfth Night," and was achieved
in the part of _Malvolio_. In referring to Blake's assumption of this
character, we observed, in passing, that Fisher was born in yellow
stockings and cross-gartered--meaning to express the natural affinity
for Shakespeare's creation existing in the actor; and we believe there
will be no question among those who remember the impersonation, as to
the subtlety of conception, the felicity of portrayal, and fidelity to
detail, that so eminently distinguished it. From first to last it was a
masterpiece. His manner when he interrupts the orgies of _Sir Toby_, the
_Clown_, and _Aguecheek_, and during their maudlin mockery, was full of
rare suggestiveness; the great scene in the garden, where he falls into
the trap set by _Maria_, was one of the finest pieces of acting known to
our stage. The audience were as intent during its progress as if their
own lives and fortunes hung upon that enigmatic letter. When it comes
home to him at last that he indeed is the favored of _Olivia_, and he
gives full rein to his fancy respecting his future exaltation--how he
must bear himself, the lofty air he will assume, the consideration he
will extort,--he was inimitable. Already he is clothed in yellow
stockings and cross-gartered; and he smiles, as he struts, the smile
that his deceiver declares so becomes him. In the ensuing scene before
_Olivia_, where the stockings and smiles play so important a part, he
was equally fine; and if Fisher had played nothing else, his _Malvolio_
would remain an interpretation of the highest class, and a glory of
dramatic art. The press, with one accord, united in its praise; and Mr.
Richard Grant White, whose ability to judge of Shakespearian
delineations was well known, confessed, in the columns of the _Courier
and Inquirer_ that he did not know where Mr. Fisher learned to play
_Malvolio_ so well. To say that we enjoyed what we have here endeavored
to recall, is to say but little. It is one of our most valued
memories--and we could not help thinking, when the lovely _Viola_ of the
late Miss Neilson was captivating all hearts, what a revelation it would
have been to her admiring audience had Fisher presented his picture of
_Malvolio_.
In Burton's revival of the "Midsummer Night's Dream," Fisher was cast as
_Duke Theseus_; and in thinking of the part, that glorious passage
descriptive of the _Duke's_ hounds rings in our ears, as spoken with
glowing enthusiasm by the actor:
"My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-kneed, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tunable
Was never holloa'd to, nor cheered with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:
Judge when you hear."
In "The Tempest" also, as _Prospero_, Mr. Fisher appeared to advantage,
and swayed the destinies of the Enchanted Isle with dignity and effect.
_Triplet_, in "Masks and Faces," was another performance of Fisher's
that we might linger over in pleasant memory of its humor and pathos; a
performance, too, by the way, which brought to public view a new
accomplishment of the actor; namely, his acquaintance with the
violin,--an advantage that lent unusual force and brilliancy to the
capital scene where _Woffington_, having played Lady Bountiful to the
forlorn family, completes her conquest by calling for the fiddle and
dancing "Cover the Buckle." And with the tune in our ears, and a vision
of Fisher's elbow in deft movement, we take leave of the actor who gave
us in the past so many happy hours.
An artist of quite another sort was Lysander Steele Thompson. He was an
importation of Burton's; and his specialty was the Yorkshireman of the
stage, a line in which he stood alone and unapproachable. Actors there
have been who played the same parts, and with a sufficient mastery of
the dialect to pass muster; but, compared with Thompson's, their
assumptions were like artificial flowers in a painted vase beside a
clump of spring violets in the dew of morning. The semblance was there;
but the delicious fragrance of nature's breath it was not theirs to
give. The native freshness and out-of-door breezy spirit were Thompson's
own and born with him. His engagement was followed by the production of
all the known plays in which there was a _Zekiel Homespun_, or a _Robin
Roughhead_. We saw him in them all: _Bob Tyke_, in "The School of
Reform"; _Zekiel Homespun_, in "The Heir-at-Law"; _Stephen Harrowby_, in
"The Poor Gentleman,"--and until the advent of Thompson, the _Harrowby_
family had been omitted in Burton's version of the comedy;--_Robin
Roughhead_, in "A Ploughman Turned Lord"; _John Browdie_, in "Nicholas
Nickleby"; and _Giles_, in "The Miller's Maid"; in which last, indeed,
he acted under an inspiration that almost laid claim to genius itself;
and we see him now, in that high-wrought scene, where, as the defender
of virtue and innocence, he towers in superb wrath above the villain
_Gamekeeper_, who would tear from her home the person of _Susan
Fellows_.
It goes without saying that his dialect was perfect, and all the
humorous phases--the touches of bewilderment and arch simplicity, the
quaint retort, the rollicking drollery, the innocence blent with
audacity,--all these traits and characteristics were so many gifts of
expression summoned and employed at will. We have seen many tragedians
and artists in melodrama; many "old men" and light comedians; many
funny men and eccentric actors, but we have seen one Yorkshireman
only--Lysander Thompson.
He was not without vanity, however, and possibly aspired to other
dramatic walks than his famous specialty, if we may judge from a little
episode in his career at Burton's, which really makes too good a story
to be lost. Burton had in view the production of "The Merry Wives," in
order to act _Falstaff_; and in the distribution Thompson was asked to
make choice of a part. The story runs that, after due reflection, Mr.
Thompson answered that on the whole he would prefer to play _Sir John_.
The manager regarded him for a moment with a glance of wonder, and then:
"I'm ---- if you do; one _Falstaff_ is enough; you must choose again,
Thompson." And he chose the _Host of the Garter Inn_, and made a
palpable hit.
The late Charles Mathews played a short engagement at Burton's; and we
remember his capital acting in "Little Toddlekins" and as _Young
Rapid_; but we need not dwell upon an actor whose stay was so fleeting,
whose celebrity was so extended, and whose Memoirs have so recently been
given to the public.
George Holland, also departed, was for a brief period at the Chambers
Street Theatre, and we recall our enjoyment of his broad fun and facial
extravagance. We always felt, however, that--as his line was somewhat
akin to Burton's--he underwent a perilous ordeal in appearing on the
same stage with the great actor whose genius was so overshadowing.
Messrs. Norton,[10] Holman, and Parsloe, Jr., were useful members of
the stock company, limited in range and ability; and we mention them as
painstaking actors, who always did their best, and aided materially in
the general success of the theatre. The name of young Parsloe is
included on account of his performance of _Puck_, which, owing to
natural cleverness and acrobatic aptitude, he succeeded, under Burton's
training, in making exceedingly effective and full of goblin action.
[10] An amusing experience may be related apropos of Mr. Norton. Not
liking a part in which he was cast, he addressed the following letter
to the manager:
"MR. BURTON, My Dear Sir:--It was not necessity which drove me to
America. I wished to travel, to see the country, and, after having
satisfied myself as to whether it pleased me, professionally or
otherwise, to arrange either to remain in it or return to England.
I consider myself greatly insulted by being cast for the part of
Scaley in 'Nicholas Nickleby.' To offer such an indignity to a
gentleman who has held a good position in the Olympic Theatre,
London, under the management of so great an actor as Mr. W. Farren,
where he has played Sir John Melville, Sir Lucius O'Trigger, Sir
Arthur Lascelles, etc., I consider a great insult, and positively
request you to take me out of the objectionable cast, and in future
to keep to the promise you made on engaging
"Yours, W. H. NORTON."
Shortly he received the following reply:
"MY DEAR MR. NORTON:--When I engaged you I thought you were merely
an actor. I find that you are a gentleman on your travels, and I
have to apologize for detaining you. If you proceed, let me advise
you to visit Niagara about this time. Take a tour through Canada.
After that take your way through the country generally, not
forgetting the caves of Kentucky, and in mid-winter return to
Niagara, a splendid sight. But should you feel inclined to defer
your travels, W. E. Burton will be happy to retain your services
until the close of the season."
"What could I do or say?" said Norton, relating the incident. "I
literally roared with laughter. He had beaten me completely. We adjusted
the difference, and I remained with him for two seasons."
And now let us fancy ourselves sitting, as of old, in the parquette, the
curtain having risen on "The Serious Family." _Sleek_ reads his appeal,
and we hear a voice saying: "Those words give comfort to every fainting
and world-worn spirit, good Mr. Aminadab Sleek"--and we know that _Lady
Sowerby Creamly_ has spoken, and that Mrs. Hughes is before us. Of this
estimable lady and admirable actress, much more might be said than
present space will allow. Almost as familiar a figure as the manager
himself, for years she enacted those characters which were peculiarly
her forte, and was identified with all the success and shared all the
fame of the renowned theatre. We can recall no instance of her having
disappointed an audience; and though, in the course of her long service,
she may have assumed uncongenial parts, yet so intelligent was she, so
thorough, so conscientious, that, in spite of unsuitableness, her
performance was always acceptable and meritorious. _Lady Duberly_, in
"The Heir-at-Law," _Mrs. Malaprop_, in "The Rivals," _Lucretia McTab_,
in "The Poor Gentleman," were her accustomed line, and well indeed she
played them. _Widow Warren_, in "The Road to Ruin," _Mrs. Skewton_, in
"Dombey and Son," _Betsy Trotwood_, in "David Copperfied," were kindred
felicitous portraitures; and no one can think of Burton as _Sleek_ and
_Toodle_ without instantly associating Mrs. Hughes as _Lady Creamly_ and
_Mrs. Toodle_. How many times did they play those parts together! In all
those lighter pieces and farces Burton made so popular and famous, she
was his ally and strong support; and no history of the drama of that
period can be written without conspicuous mention of her name; nor can
the professional career and triumphs of Burton be recounted without
suggestion and remembrance of Mrs. Hughes. Their professional relation
was perfectly harmonious, and she was with him to the last. She went
with him from Chambers Street to the New Theatre, and when that was
given up accompanied him on all his starring tours, acting with him when
he appeared for the last time in New York, and when he acted for the
last time in his life at Hamilton, Canada. In a speech Burton once
made, he thus referred to their theatrical relations: "I have been her
father, her son, her uncle, her first husband, her second husband, and
her third husband, her friend, and her disconsolate widower, and I have
liked her better and better in each relation!"
Even as far back as 1826 Mrs. Hughes was a great favorite. H. B. Phelps,
in his valuable work known as "Players of a Century," gives a notice of
the press she received for a benefit night at that period, which he says
is worth preserving as a model: "Mrs. Hughes takes her benefit at the
theatre to-night. It would be an insult to the generous enthusiasm of
her numerous admirers, to say another word on the subject."
As it cannot fail to be of interest to readers of this volume, we copy
from Mr. Phelps's book a reply to a letter addressed by him to the Hon.
Charles Hughes, State Senator, asking information respecting Mrs.
Hughes's subsequent history.
"DEAR SIR:--Mrs. Esther Hughes, formerly Mrs. Young, was my mother.
She died upon her farm, three miles from this village (Sandy Hill,
N. Y.), on the 15th of April, 1867, at the age of seventy-five,
from the effects of an accident (falling down stairs, caused by
vertigo). She had left the stage before the war, her last
engagement being a travelling tour with W. E. Burton, in the South
and North. She was acting in Albany as Mrs. Young when the war of
1812 was declared, and I have often heard her speak of Solomon
Southwick and of John O. Cole, who was a boy in Southwick's office.
Her many years of theatrical life speak for themselves."
We have heretofore alluded to the Miss Agnes Robertson of long ago; and
now a memory steals in upon us of her débût at Burton's, and of her
enchanting performance in the protean play of "The Young Actress." Of
the half dozen parts assumed, the Scotch lassie and the Irish lad still
haunt us. The highland fling of the one and the "Widow Machree" of the
other were charming to see and hear; and, indeed, Miss Robertson was
charming altogether.
We could give a long list of actors and actresses who from year to year
were enrolled in the Chambers Street company, and whose efforts are
pleasantly remembered. We do not mean to slight them; but we must hasten
toward our appointed goal. One actress, however, a recognized favorite
in New York long before her engagement with Burton, which terminated
with her farewell to the stage, deserves more than a passing notice, for
the pleasure she gave was as pure and healthful as it was winsome and
bright. We refer to Miss Mary Taylor--"Our Mary,"--better known and
esteemed than any actress of her day, except Charlotte Cushman, that we
can recall.
We shall not dwell upon any part of her career, nor examine her dramatic
capabilities. She never appeared without eliciting the warmest of
welcomes; and when we try to think of the many characters we saw her in,
we find ourselves remembering only how sweet and good she was. We were
present at her farewell benefit, and during the speech Mr. Burton made
for her the emotion throughout the house, at the thought of parting,
was as sincere as it was deep. She stood, visibly affected, in the midst
of her companions, and when the curtain fell there was a sigh, as if the
audience had lost a friend.
We have endeavored in the foregoing to indicate the strength of the
Chambers Street company, and we think the reader cannot fail to be
impressed by the exhibit. The fact of such dramatic portraiture being
easy, seems to us a striking proof of its supreme excellence. The
majority of them were they living now might be comedy stars. When we
have Jefferson, Raymond, Fawcett Rowe, Stuart Robson, and Florence,
starring about the country, playing their one part hundreds of nights,
what shall we think of Burton, Placide, Blake, Brougham, Lester,
Johnston, and the rest, appearing together nightly in characters of
varied but equal dramatic power? There has been a great change since
then. The name of the places of amusement now is legion, and one bright
star in the heaven of scenic splendor consoles the public for the loss
of a concentration of wit and genius. As we recall for a moment all that
bright array, we are taken back through the maze of distance, and old
familiar forms arise; we see the glimmer of accustomed footlights; the
scene is alive with well-known faces; we even hear voices that we know;
we join in the old-time plaudits--and forget how many years have rolled
between! There is no retrospection without its tinge of sadness. "Never
to return" is the refrain of human memory. How beautifully Holmes
expresses it in "The Last Leaf":
"The mossy marbles rest
On the lips that he has pressed,
In their bloom;
And the names he loved to hear,
Have been carved for many a year
On the tomb."