with: "Ha! how d' ye do, Doubledot?" and we hear him asking with
ingratiating audacity question after question, pausing for an answer
after each one, and in no wise put out at getting none,--"never miss any
thing for the want of asking, you know." Then his lingering departure,
and _Doubledot's_ fervent: "I've got rid of him at last, thank heaven!"
No, he returns. "I dropped one of my gloves" (looking about).
_Doubledot_ waxes impatient and speaks his mind. "Mr. Doubledot," said
Burton, swelling with insulted dignity, "I want my property; I want my
property, sir. When I came in here I had two gloves, and now--ah--that's
very odd; I've got it in my hand all this time!" (hasty exit). How
little it seems in the telling. The air of anxiety on returning, and the
eye-glass brought into play; the look of injured innocence, the
indignant assertion, and then the sudden collapse--cannot be reproduced
in words.
The piece is full of diverting situations, but nothing was more natural
than that Burton should improve on and add to them. His bright instinct
kindled the dry fagots of a scene till they fairly crackled with
merriment. Certain "business," humorous amplification of dialogue, a
diffusion of comic incident, that we vividly recall, are not to be found
in the printed "Paul Pry"; and the conclusion of the second act,
especially, where the pistols are used with such ludicrous effect, all
that was Burton's own. The pistols lay on the table, left there by
_Col. Hardy_, and _Pry_ is alone. Burton took them up, one in each hand.
He regarded the weapons fixedly. Then, with solemn enunciation: "I never
fought a duel; but if I was called out," extending an arm, "I say if I
was called out"--bang! went one of the pistols, and down dropped Burton,
the picture of fright, when bang! went the other, and the curtain fell
on the comedian sitting in abject terror, a smoking pistol in each hand,
gazing in every direction for succor, and wildly ejaculating "Murder!"
Then, at the close of the play, when _Pry_ reminds _Col. Hardy_ that,
thanks to him (_Pry_), things, after all, have resulted to the
satisfaction of everybody, the _Colonel_ relaxes his sternness somewhat
and says: "Well, I will tolerate you; you shall dine with me to-day."
"Colonel," replied Burton, with airy condescension, "I'll dine with you
every day."
It was a rare pleasure to see Placide and Burton in their respective
parts; and as once again we think of them the Chambers Street stage is
before us, and the garden scene; and we see _Col. Hardy_ place the
ladder against the wall, mount it and peer cautiously over, and then
hastily descend, saying: "I have him; there he is, crouching on the
ground with his eye at the key-hole"; see him quietly approach the gate,
suddenly open it, and once again as of old, Burton tumbles in, umbrella
and all, with "How are you, Colonel! I've just dropped in!"
He will never more drop in for us, nor does it seem likely that in our
day another _Paul Pry_ will appear. The play may have been performed in
New York since the comedian's death, and we seem dimly to remember that
it was; but we have no recollection beyond the simple circumstance. We
feel sure, however, that public interest in it ceased with the departure
of its last great representative; and equally sure that in the memory of
those who saw it, Burton's _Paul Pry_ remains a famous creation of
delightful humor.
What shall we say of _Captain Cuttle_? How many readers and lovers of
Dickens thronged the theatre in the old days to witness that wonderful
reproduction? and how many to whom Dickens was but a name were led by
the impersonation to study the pages of the great novelist? It is
certain that Burton by his sympathetic and admirable portrayal awakened
a fresh interest in the enchanting story, so potent to excite
intellectual pursuit is fine and sagacious interpretation. "Dombey and
Son" was one of the great triumphs of the Chambers Street Theatre, and
not to have seen it constituted an offence against public sentiment
utterly without palliation. That it was Charles Dickens dramatized by
John Brougham was enough of itself to claim respectful attention; and
when Burton added the crowning effect of his acting of _Cuttle_, then
indeed was the dramatic feast complete. Nothing could be clearer than
that the comedian had made careful and conscientious study of his
author, and nothing surer than that the portrait was conceived in an
appreciative and loving spirit. If those familiar with the character as
depicted by Dickens discerned at times certain felicitous touches in
Burton's delineation which suggested an originality of method and
treatment, the points were due, we think, to the genius of the novelist
acting upon the actor's imagination, and kindling it to the expression
of cognate verisimilitude.
What a memory it is to linger on! How the form comes back, clad in the
white suit; the high collar, like a small sail, and the black silk
handkerchief with flaring ends loosely encircling it; the head bald at
top, a shining pathway between the bristling hair on each side; the
bushy eyebrows arching the reverential eyes; the knob-environed nose;
the waist-coat with buttons innumerable; the glazed hat under his left
arm; the hook gravely extended at the end of his right. "May we never
want a friend in need, or a bottle to give him! Overhaul the Proverbs of
Solomon, and when found make a note of," we hear him saying; and then we
follow him through those inimitable scenes which cannot be easily
forgotten by those who witnessed them. The scene where he cheers up
_Florence_, and makes such dexterous play with his hook, adjusting her
bonnet and manipulating the tea--and yet exhibiting a simple and natural
pathos with it all; where he sits in admiring contemplation of _Bunsby_,
while that oracular tar delivers his celebrated opinion respecting the
fate of the vessel, with the memorable addendum: "The bearings of this
observation lays in the application on it"; the scene with the
_MacStingers_, and the _Captain's_ despair; the timely intervention of
_Bunsby_; the despair changed to wondering awe; and then all the
suggestive by-play consequent upon his delivery by _Bunsby_ from the
impending _MacStinger_ vengeance;--all this, and much more than we can
describe, passes by like a panorama in memory. Burton's _Captain Cuttle_
occupies a conspicuous place in the gallery of famous dramatic pictures,
and there it will long remain.[11] As we think of it in all the details
which made it so perfect an embodiment, it seems a pity that Dickens
himself never saw it. We can fancy that had he chanced to be in New York
when "Dombey and Son" was the theatrical sensation, and had dropped in
at Chambers Street, an auditor all unknown, he would have made his way
behind the scenes, and to Burton's dressing-room, and with both hands
would have grasped the comedian's hook and enthusiastically shaken it.
[11] Ireland, in referring to certain qualities of Burton's acting,
says: "While in homely pathos, and the earnest expression of blunt,
uncultivated feeling, he has rarely been excelled. His grief at the
supposed death of Walter Gay, or poor Wally, as Captain Cuttle
affectionately called him, was one of the most touching bits of acting
ever witnessed, and has wrung tears from many an unwilling eye."
"The Serious Family" and "The Toodles"! What memories of joyous,
laughing hours the names awaken! Never, we venture to say, were
playhouse audiences regaled with so surpassing a feast of mirth
as that spread by Burton in his performance of those renowned
specialities--_Aminadab Sleek_ and _Timothy Toodles_. No comedian, we
believe, of whom we have any record, excelled those efforts in variety
of mimetic effect, facial expression, and display of comic power. That
in them the extreme limit of humorous demonstration was reached, the
public generally acknowledged. The two plays had their regular nights,
and thousands flocked, week after week, to the banquet of jollity,
all unsatisfied, though again and again they had revelled there. No
greater contrast could be offered an audience than that presented by
the two pieces of acting. The sanctimonious and lugubrious _Sleek_; the
effusive and rubicund _Toodles_! Coming one after the other, in every
way so different, the instance of versatility made a deep impression,
and prompted a thought on the flexibility of human genius. We are
reminded at this moment of an incident which occurred one evening in
connection with "The Serious Family," which added an unexpected feature
to the entertainment. Burton did not appear in the first piece, and the
audience, eager for _Aminadab_, were glad when the orchestra ceased.
But the prompter's bell did not tinkle. After a pause the orchestra
played again, and again finished. Still no bell. Signs of impatience
began, and as the delay continued the hubbub increased. An attempt on
the part of the musicians to fill the gap was received with evident
displeasure. At last, when nearly half an hour had elapsed, the bell
sounded, and the curtain rose on the familiar group of _Sleek_, _Lady
Creamly_, and _Mrs. Torrens_. Applause broke out all over the house;
but with it were mingled a few ill-humored hisses. Burton left his
place at the table and came forward to the foot-lights. There he stood
in the well-known suit of pepper and salt, the straight gray hair
framing the solemn visage of _Sleek_. Then, in his own proper voice,
he explained the cause of the delay--a mishap of travel,--expressed
his regret, and begged the indulgence of the audience. A storm of
approval followed his speech, in the midst of which he resumed his
place, instantly assuming his character; and as the applause died
away another voice succeeded, the voice of _Sleek_, in nasal tone,
saying: "We appeal to the disciples of true benevolence, and the doers
of good deeds, without distinction of politics or party," etc. The
effect of the transition was irresistible; and the loss of time was
forgotten in the gain of a new delight. And now another story of "The
Serious Family" comes to mind, and it is too good to be lost. Playing
in Atlanta, Georgia, he found a wretched theatre, without appointments
or properties. At the conclusion of the overture the prompter ran to
Burton with the announcement that there was no bell to ring up the
curtain. "Good gracious, what a place! Here, my lad," he said to a
little fellow who acted as call-boy, "run out and get us a bell--any
thing will do--a cow bell, if you can't get any thing better." Away
went the boy, the orchestra vainly endeavoring to quiet the audience
with popular airs. Back came the boy, pale and breathless, gasping out:
"There ain't a bell in the whole town, sir!"
"What's to be done now?" asked the prompter.
"Shake the thunder!" No sooner said than done. Up went the curtain, and
"The Serious Family" commenced amidst the most terrific peal heard in
that theatre for many a year.
[Illustration: MR. BURTON AS AMINADAB SLEEK.]
It goes without saying that Burton's _Sleek_ and _Toodles_, especially
the latter, though founded on another's outlines, were so built upon and
humorously amplified, that in diverting dramatic effect they were
clearly his own creations, and owed their importance to the impress of
the actor's transforming power. When we read "The Serious Family" as
written by Morris Barnett, clever though it be, we see at once where the
author ends and the actor begins; and as for "The Toodles," it is
sufficient to say that the _Timothy Toodles_ of Burton was never dreamed
of by the playwright.
How shall we describe to those who were born too late to witness them,
these famous performances of the great comedian? We feel that all
description must fail in giving any idea of the infinite variety and
scope of comic humor they exhibited. We might, indeed, for they are
vivid in remembrance, take our readers through the many scenes, and show
them _Sleek_, from the entrance of _Captain Maguire_, in the first act,
to Burton's enraged exit in the last; picturing, as we go, the
situations without parallel in droll device and mirth-moving
complication; show them _Toodles_, from his arraignment of _Mrs.
Toodles_ for her multifarious and preposterous bargains, not forgetting
the _door-plate_ of _Thompson_--_Thompson_ with a _p_--nor "he had a
brother,"--to his inimitable tipsy scene and the memorable soliloquy,
"That man reminds me";--but, however exhaustive the relation in words,
after all was said, we should still hopelessly leave the effect to be
guessed at with the help of imagination.
We have thus endeavored to give impressions from memory of certain parts
in which Burton was specially famous; and they seem to us, on account of
their versatility and range of humorous spirit, to be conspicuous
examples of that varied power which led us to style the comedian an
expounder of the Humor of the Drama in all its aspects. If the sojourn
on earth of old Robert Burton was intended to give the world an "Anatomy
of Melancholy," surely the mission of the later Burton was to lay bare
the whole body of mirth.
MR. BURTON IN COMEDY AND SHAKESPEARE.
As we think of the many parts in which it was our good fortune to
see Mr. Burton, we are led into a reflection on the surprising
versatility displayed by them; and we question whether the record
of any comedian embraces a repertory so extensive, so varied, and
so distinguished for general ability. The performances we are about
to recall, though exhibiting many humorous features in common, were
each a distinct conception; and the execution of each was a dramatic
portrait by itself, artistic in measure, faithful in delineation, and
felicitous in the expression of points of character. The Burtonian
element--in the shape of by-play, gesture, accent, facial device,
mimetic effect--was visible in the composition, as a matter of course,
contributing to the picture's expansion, deepening its tints and
emphasizing its characteristics,--added touches that were the actor's
stamp and sign-manual. We have cited _Sleek_ and _Toodles_ as strongly
contrasting parts, and so indeed they were; but we might easily adduce
instances of versatility quite as striking, and would do so were it not
more than likely that they will appear to our readers as our memories
progress. It is said that the celebrated William Farren used to style
himself a "cock salmon," the only fish of his kind in the market; and
if unique dramatic distinction lies in that piscatorial image, most
assuredly Mr. Burton was a cock salmon of the first water.
We cannot hope to remember every thing we saw Mr. Burton play, yet we
think our recollection will embrace a fair array of those characters in
comedy and divers pieces which he alone in his generation seemed
adequately to fill, and which were such a boon of delight to the
audiences of long ago.
There was his _Micawber_, in the dramatization of "David Copperfield,"
which succeeded "Dombey and Son,"--equal to if not surpassing his
_Cuttle_; an inimitable reproduction of the novelist's creation, full of
humorous point, and sustained with an indescribable airy complacence and
bland assumption of resource, that made it a perfect treat to lovers of
Dickens; and those who saw "David Copperfield" may well rejoice, for
they hold in memory Burton's _Micawber_, Johnston's _Uriah Heep_, and
Mrs. Hughes' _Betsy Trotwood_!
There was _Bumble_, the beadle, in "Oliver Twist," a very funny piece of
acting, and especially so in the well-known scene with _Mrs. Corney_,
where, in excess of tenderness, he tells her that "any cat, or kitten,
that could live with you ma'am, and _not_ be fond of its home, must be a
ass ma'am." And then when the matron is called away and the beadle
remains, his proceedings are described by Dickens thus: "Mr. Bumble's
conduct on being left to himself was rather inexplicable. He opened the
closet, counted the teaspoons, weighed the sugar-tongs, closely
inspected the silver milk-pot to ascertain that it was of the genuine
metal, and, having satisfied his curiosity on these points, put on his
cocked hat cornerwise, and danced with much gravity four distinct times
round the table. Having gone through this very extraordinary
performance, he took off the cocked hat again, and spreading himself
before the fire with his back toward it, seemed to be mentally engaged
in taking an exact inventory of the furniture." We deem it enough to say
that Mr. Burton's management of the foregoing "business" left nothing to
be desired.
We may note, in the mention of "Oliver Twist," that _Nancy Sykes_ was
played by the late Fanny Wallack, with a fidelity of purpose and a
pathetic abandon that made it painful to witness.
To continue with Dickens: there were _Squeers_ and _Sam Weller_, both
capital in their way--the last, however, lacking, as it seemed to us, in
true Wellerian flavor; but the _Squeers_ was marked by an appreciative
recognition of the schoolmaster's grim traits; and the scene at
_Dotheboys Hall_ was admirably given; Mrs. Hughes, as _Mrs. Squeers_,
"made up" to the life, and irresistible in her distribution of the
treacle.
All these portraits from the pages of Dickens were so many meritorious
presentments of the novelist's creations, and would have won enduring
fame for an actor of smaller calibre; the truth is, in Mr. Burton's
case, that his _Bumble_, _Squeers_, and _Weller_ were but dimly seen,
owing to the greater glory of his _Cuttle_ and _Micawber_.
We saw Mr. Burton as _Bob Acres_, in "The Rivals"; as _Tony Lumpkin_, in
"She Stoops to Conquer"; as _Goldfinch_, in "The Road to Ruin"; as
_Doctor Ollapod_, in "The Poor Gentleman"; as _Sir George Thunder_, in
"Wild Oats"; as _Job Thornberry_, in "John Bull"; as _Sir Oliver
Surface_, in "The School for Scandal"; as _Graves_, in Bulwer's "Money";
as the _Mock Duke_, in "The Honeymoon"; as _Adam Brock_, in "Charles
XII."; as _Van Dunder_, in "The Dutch Governor"; as _John Smith_, in
"Nature's Nobleman"; as _Mr. Sudden_, in "The Breach of Promise"; as
_Thomas Trot_, in "Paris and London"; as _Don Ferolo Whiskerandos_, in
"The Critic" of Sheridan; as _Triplet_, in "Masks and Faces";--certainly
a gallery of dramatic portraits that would put to the test the highest
order of ability; and we feel bound to say that Burton passed the ordeal
well deserving the encomiums that were bestowed upon his efforts. It
would be too much to expect that all these delineations were even in
points of conception and execution; yet all were entitled to respectful
consideration, and many were masterpieces. We will endeavor to go
through them briefly, in remembrance of the happy hours we owe to their
joyous influence.
The recent appearance of Jefferson as _Bob Acres_ has aroused a new
interest in the character, and from all accounts the performance was
more than equal to expectation, and has enhanced the reputation of the
comedian. We hope to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Jefferson in due
time, and we fancy that his acting of _Acres_ would refresh somewhat our
recollection of Burton in the part. As it is, however, we cannot vouch
for a clear memory of Burton's _Acres_. We saw it but once, and then
early in life, when we were new to the theatre; and all we seem to
remember is that he was very funny with his curl papers, and his
"referential or allegorical swearing," and that the duel scene was very
amusing. It was the opinion of Hazlitt that Sheridan overdid the part,
and accordingly he goes on to say: "It calls for a greater effort of
animal spirits and a peculiar aptitude of genius in the actor to go
through with it, to humor the extravagance, and to seem to take a real
and cordial delight in caricaturing himself." This criticism is not
without force; but whatever may have been Burton's conception, we are
certain that a bright intelligence informed it, and that in the
portrayal a requisite display of "animal spirits" was not lacking. If,
among the audience that greeted Jefferson, there chanced to be any old
play-goers of tenacious memory who had seen Burton, let us hope that
they improved the occasion by pleasant reminiscence.
_Tony Lumpkin_ was a very comic piece of acting, and made the people
laugh immoderately; but we confess that the character has little charm
for us. Burton used to sing the song of "The Three Jolly Pigeons" (in
the ale-house scene) with more expression than melody; but he threw into
it a great deal of frolic spirit and made it quite a feature.
In our youthful days, when witnessing "The Road to Ruin," we knew very
well the moment when we should hear the voice of _Goldfinch_ outside;
and we remember his bustling entrance, in sporting frock, buff waiscoat,
and top boots, whip in hand, and his rattling flow of horse-talk; his
strut and his "that's your sort!" It is said that Lewis, of Covent
Garden, (the original _Goldfinch_,) "gave to that catch-phrase a variety
of intonation which made it always new and effective"; and Burton
certainly played upon it adroitly. His delivery of the text was full of
point and animation, and his articulation admirable. "Why, you are a
high fellow, Charles," says _Harry Dornton_. "To be sure!" replies
_Goldfinch_, "know the odds--hold four-in-hand--turn a corner in
style--reins in form--elbows square--wrist pliant--hayait!--drive the
Coventry stage twice a week all summer--pay for an inside place--mount
the box--tip the coachy a crown--beat the mail--come in full
speed--rattle down the gateway--take care of your heads!--never killed
but one woman and a child in all my life--that's your sort!" We hear
Burton's voice, we see his face and his gestures now!
We were always fond of Colman's "Poor Gentleman," and we took great
delight in seeing Burton as _Doctor Ollapod_. As all know, the
character affords wide scope for diverting treatment. The incidents are
many and droll--and we think Burton turned every thing to the best
account. Henry Placide played the part more artistically; but it was not
possible for him to expound its humorous nature with the richness that
came easily to Burton. We never think of Colman's comedy without a
feeling of grateful pleasure; for its representation at various times
gave us Burton and Placide as _Ollapod_; Burton as _Sir Robert Bramble_;
Dyott, as _Worthington_; Mrs. Hughes as _Lucretia McTab_; and Johnston
as _Humphrey Dobbins_.
We have referred in another place to _Sir George Thunder_ and _Job
Thornberry_; and we need not dwell upon them further than to say that
both gave glimpses of that versatile power to which we have alluded, and
both were full of the comedian's characteristic ability.
We suppose that _Sir Oliver Surface_ would not be deemed a part exactly
in Mr. Burton's "line"; and yet, as we remember it, he invested the
character with a simple dignity, and played it with manly directness and
feeling.
Our memory of _Mr. Graves_ and the _Mock Duke_ is dim and distant; but
if our readers desire another example of versatility, we commend the two
parts as furnishing a most conspicuous instance.
We have never seen "Charles XII." and "The Dutch Governor" since we saw
Burton as _Adam Brock_ and _Van Dunder_; but we assure the play-goers of
to-day that the dramas were well worth seeing long ago when Liston
played in them, and equally so when his great successor appeared in them
at a later period. Burton rarely played _Adam Brock_, and we cannot
remember seeing it more than once, when it impressed us greatly. "The
Dutch Governor," on the contrary, was a favorite attraction at the
Chambers Street Theatre, and Burton's _Van Dunder_ was a rich feast of
mirthful enjoyment.
Pardey's "Nature's Nobleman," purporting to be an American comedy, was
first produced at Burton's in 1851. The prologue, which was spoken by
the manager, contained these lines: