Chapter III: Preface (3)

In "The Son of the Sun" there is an episode which helps to illustrate the condition of the drama in London at that period (1834). Apollo is questioning the Muses who have just returned from London to Olympus:--

_Apol._ Euterpe, Music's Muse, I understand
That you had lodgings somewhere in the Strand.

_Eut._ Oh! the Lyceum! Yes; I had a bout of it
For a short time, until they burnt me out of it.

_Apol._ Melpomene, Thalia,--still remain
Your temples, I suppose, near Drury Lane?

_Thal._ Our temples! Yes; as usual they stand,
Extensively superb, and coldly grand.
But, oh! the worship's wholly chang'd! Ah me! it is
A cruel thing--they've turn'd out us poor deities.

My friend Melpomene's dagger, and her bowl,
Are in the clutches of a noisy soul
With Madame Melodrama for her name.

_Apol._ That's downright usurpation.

_All._ Shame! oh, shame!

_Thal._ And as for me, my place--a pretty pass!--
Is taken by a vulgar thing, called Farce.

_Apol._ But where is Shakspeare?

_Thal._ Bless me, don't you know?
Shakspeare is trampled on.

_Apol._ By whom?

_Thal._ Ducrow.

Mr. Burnand has written more "classical" burlesques than any man living or dead. A university man, like Talfourd, he has displayed complete mastery of mythologic themes, submitting them to ingenious perversion, and adorning them with a wealth of pun and parody of which it is impossible, in these brief limits, to give more than a few samples. He has shown special interest in the legends connected with the siege of Troy,[14] producing three burlesques more or less connected with that event. First, in 1860, came "Dido," at the St. James's, with Charles Young as the heroine; next, in 1866, "Paris, or Vive Lemprière," at the Strand;[15] next, in 1867, "The Latest Edition of Helen, or Taken from the Greek," at Liverpool.[16] Helen of Troy, I may note, _en parenthèse_, had been the heroine of two other travesties: one by Vincent Amcotts--"Fair Helen" (Oxford, 1862); the other by Mr. Robert Reece--"Our Helen" (Gaiety, 1884).

[14] "The Siege of Troy," by the way, was the title and subject of a
burlesque by Robert Brough (Lyceum, 1858).

[15] Paris, Miss Raynham; OEnone, Mr. Thomas Thorne; Castor, Mr.
David James; Orion, J. D. Stoyle; Venus, Miss A. Swanborough; Juno,
Maria Simpson; Jupiter, Miss Eliza Johnstone.

[16] Paris, Miss Raynham; Helen, Miss Furtado. "Helen" is described by
the writer as a "companion picture to 'Paris,'"

In "Dido," Mr. Burnand's genius for word-play is agreeably manifested. I take some lines at random:--

"Æneas, son of Venus, sails the sea,
Mighty and _high_."

"As _Venus' son_ should be."

On the sea-shore, dear, I've just come from walking,
Studying my fav'rite poets. Need I tell ye
The works I read were those of _Crabbe_ and _Shelley_?

It is the Queen--of life she seems aweary;
And mad as _Lear_, looking just as _leary_.
A riddle strikes me: "Why's she thus behaving,
Just like a bird of night?" "'Cos she's a _raving_."

Mad as a March hare. It is the fate
Of _hares_ to be then in a _rabid_ state.

"I ne'er shall move as heretofore so gaily,
I feel quite ill and dizzy."

"_Dizzy? Raly?_"

Æneas comes on first as a begging sailor, with "I'm starving" inscribed on a paper suspended from his neck. He strikes up a song, but soon stops it:--

What? no one here? Thy singing vain appears.
Land may have _necks_ and _tongues_--it has no _ears_.
None to be done, and nothing here to do.

[_Takes off begging paper_.]

"I'm starving." Ah, it happens to be true!
On air I cannot feed, howe'er one stuffs,
Not even when it comes to me in _puffs_.
I wonder what's become of our small party,
Who, yesterday, were sailing well and hearty?
I saw our shipwrecked crew sink in the _bay_;
'Twould be a subject fit for _Frith_, R.A.
And if the shore last night they failed in gaining,
I am the only _Landseer_ now remaining.
Being no gambler, I'll ne'er trust again
My fortunes to the chances of the _main_.

In 1863 Mr. Burnand brought out, at the Royalty, "Ixion, or the Man at the Wheel,"[17] which proved to be one of the happiest of his efforts. This he followed up, at the same theatre, two years later, with "Pirithous," in which the adventures of Ixion's son were as humorously depicted. In the interval he had produced at the Olympic "Cupid and Psyche" (December, 1864), a burlesque on an ever-popular subject. Years before--so early as 1837--a piece called "Cupid," written by Joseph Graves, had been represented at the Queen's and Strand, with Wild and Miss Malcolm at the one house and Hammond and Miss Daly at the other as the God of Love and his beloved. In "Cupid," however, there was little verbal wit. The god figured as a gay deceiver, who had promised marriage to Psyche, but had refused to "implement" the undertaking. Whereupon Jupiter decides that Cupid shall be shot dead by Psyche; but she, using the god's own arrows, does but transfix him with the love she yearns for. Cupid sings, early in the piece, a parody of "The Sea! the Sea!" beginning--

[17] See p. 40. Eleven years later, Mr. Burnand wrote for the Opera
Comique his "Ixion Re-Wheeled," the cast of which included, beside Miss
Laverne, Miss Amy Sheridan and Miss Eleanor Bufton.

Psyché! Psyché! my own Psyché,
The pretty, fair, and ever free!--

But, otherwise, Graves's "book" is not particularly brilliant, Though smoothly written and fairly brisk in action.

In "Cupid and Psyche" Mr. Burnand made Psyche the daughter of a king, who, because she will not marry and thus relieve him of the anxiety caused by a certain Prophecy, chains her to a rock on the sea-shore. To this he is incited by Venus, who regards Psyche as her rival in beauty. Psyche is duly rescued and espoused by Cupid, who (as in the old myth) remains invisible to her until her curiosity gets the better of her prudence; and, in the end, Venus abates her enmity, and the union of the pair is duly recognised. In one place, Psyche, entering, distractedly, in search of Cupid, cries:--

A river! I debate with myself wedder
I'll end my _tale_ with a sensation _header_
From a small boat. It could not clear the reeds;
One cannot make a_n oar way_ through these _s_(_weeds_).
Why should I live? Alas, from me forlorn
Each lad turns on his _heel_ to show his (s)_corn_!
The county lads to me make no advances;
The county girls avert their _county-nances_.
Counties! (_struck with an idea_) I'll drown myself,--
Down hesitation!
Nor men, _nor folk_, shall stop my _suffoc_-ation!

Elsewhere Mars says to Cupid:--

Stop, you ill-bred little pup!
Is this the way an 'Arrow boy's brought up?
Your conduct would disgrace the lowest Cretan.

_Bacchus._ "An 'Arrow boy!"--egad, that joke's a n_eat 'un_.

At another point Cupid himself says that

A _yawn_, however gentle,
Is to the face not ver_y orn_amental.

At the very end of the piece, there is a skilful bit of rhyming. Psyche "comes down" and says:--

Now, stupid--
Why don't you speak the tag and finish, Cupid?

_Cupid._ Because I'm in a fix, my charming friend.

_Psyche._ How so?

_Cupid._ The piece with your name ought to end;
And, though I should give all my mind and time to it,
I know that I shan't get a word to rhyme to it.

_King_ (_cleverly_). There's Bikey.

_Bacchus_ (_as if he'd hit it--rather_). Dikey!

_Zephyr_ (_suggestively_). Fikey!

_Venus_ (_authoritatively_). Likey!

_Cupid_ (_who has shaken his head at each suggestion_). Pooh!

_Chrysalis._ Oh! (_every one interested, as if she'd got it now_)
Crikey! (_every one disgusted_).

_Psyche._ Ma'am, that's vulgar, and won't do.

_Grubbe_ (_calmly and complacently_). Ikey!

_Cupid._ Absurd. I yield it in despair.

Come--the finale; I'll commence the air (_sings two very high
notes_--_all shake their heads_).

_Mars._ Oh no! we cannot sing in such a high key.

_Cupid_ (_joyfully to Psyche, catching the rhyme at once_). That's it.
(_takes her hand--to audience_). Pray smile on Cupid.

_Psyche._ And on Psyché.

Among other "classical" burlesques may be mentioned Mr. Burnand's "Arion," seen at the Strand in 1871, with Mr. Edward Terry, Mr. Harry Paulton, and Miss Augusta Thomson; and H. B. Farnie's "Vesta," produced at the St. James's in the same year, with Mr. John Wood and Mr. Lionel Brough. Mr. Burnand's "Sappho" (1866), and "Olympic Games" (1867), also call for mention. John Brougham's "Life in the Clouds" belongs to 1840; Tom Taylor's "Diogenes and his Lantern" to 1849; the Brothers Brough's "Sphinx" to the same year; William Brough's "Hercules and Omphale" to 1864; and Mr. Reece's "Agamemnon and Cassandra, or The Prophet and Loss of Troy," to 1868.

IV.

BURLESQUE OF FAËRIE.

As Planché was, in effect, the Father of Classical Burlesque, so was he also, even more irrefragably, the Father of the Burlesque of Faërie--of the fairy tales of the nursery, and especially of those derived from French sources. Memorable, indeed, was the production of Planché's "Riquet with the Tuft[18]"; this piece was the precursor of something like twenty others from the same pen, all written on the same principle and in the same vein. Planché had been to Paris, and had there seen Potier playing in "Riquet à la Houppe." He came home and straightway wrote his own version of the story, partly in verse, partly in prose, having in Charles Mathews a Riquet not equal indeed to Potier, but with obvious merits of his own. Vestris was the Princess Emeralda, and James Bland Green Horn the Great--Rebecca Isaacs, then only a little girl, being the Mother Bunch. The result was complete success, carrying with it great encouragement to the dramatist to persevere in the new path on which he had entered.

[18] At the Olympic in 1836.

These fairy pieces of Planché's were not burlesques quite in the sense in which his classical pieces were, but they belong, nevertheless, to the burlesque _genre_. Each treats lightly and humorously a story already in existence; each includes parodies of popular lyrics, as well as songs written to the airs of popular ditties; and the burlesque spirit animates the whole. Every now and then, the writer, rising superior to parody, produces a lyric which has a definite accent of its own. Here, for example, in "Riquet with the Tuft," is a song accorded to the grotesque and misshapen hero. It has genuine wit as well as genial philosophy:--

I'm a strange-looking person, I am,
But contentment for ever my guest is;
I'm by habit an optimist grown,
And fancy that all for the best is.
Each man has of troubles his pack,
And some round their aching hearts wear it;
My burden is placed on my back,
Where I'm much better able to bear it.

Again, tho' I'm blind of one eye,
And have but one ear that of use is,
I but half the world's wickedness spy,
And am deaf to one half its abuses;
And tho' with this odd pair of pegs,
My motions I own serpentine are,
Many folks blest with handsomer legs
Have ways much more crooked than mine are!

Nature gave me but one tuft of hair,
Yet wherefore, kind dame, should I flout her?
If one side of my head must be bare,
I'm delighted she's chosen the outer!
Thus on all things I put a good face,
And however misshapen in feature,
My heart, girl, is in the right place,
And warms towards each fellow-creature!

The origin of "Riquet with the Tuft" is to be found in Perrault's "Contes de ma Mère l'Oye." Planché went to the same source for his "Puss in Boots: an original, comical, _mews_-ical fairy burletta" (Olympic, 1837), in which Charles Mathews was an incomparable Puss, with Bland as Pumpkin the Prodigious, Vestris as the Marquis of Carabas, and Brougham as a very Irish ogre. In this there was a good deal of prose dialogue, of which the following scene between Puss and the three maids-of-honour may be taken as a diverting specimen:--

_Chatterina._ You're in the army, I presume?

_Puss._ No, ma'am.

_Chatt._ Why, you wear moustaches.

_Puss._ Yes, ma'am, yes; but that's because--because I can't help it,
you see. I belong to a club, and all the members are obliged to wear
them.

_Chatt._ What club?

_Puss._ It's a sort of Catch Club.

_Arietta._ What, musical?

_Puss._ Very.

_Ari._ And where do you meet?

_Puss._ We meet alternately upon each other's roof.

_Skipperella._ _Upon_ each other's roof?--that's quite a new step.

_Puss._ I beg pardon, did I say _upon_? I meant _under_.

_Ari._ You can sing, then?

_Puss._ I can squall a little, _à la_ Cat-oni.

_Ari._ Who taught you?

_Puss._ Cat-alani.

_Skip._ And dance, too?

_Puss._ I remember the time when I would have run anywhere after a
ball.

_Skip._ What is your favourite dance?

_Puss._ The Cat-alonian Cat-choucha.

_Chat._ Well, never mind about singing and dancing; suppose we fix
upon some game to pass away the time, at which we can all play?

_Ari._ I'm content.

_Skip._ And I.

_Puss._ And I. What shall it be?

_Chat._ "Puss in the Corner."

_Puss._ No, no, I don't like that.

_Chat._ Choose one yourself, then.

_Puss._ My favourite game is "Cat's Cradle."

_All._ Oh no, we can't bear that!

_Chat._ Come, name another from your catalogue.

_Puss_ (_aside_). Cat-alogue! They grow personal!

The subject of "Puss in Boots" was afterwards handled by H. J. Byron.[19] In this case we find the monarch of the piece called Noodlehead IX.; the Princesses are named Biddi, Coobiddi, and Chickabiddi; and there are two woodcutters called Gnarl and Knot. The puns in the dialogue on the word _cat_ are even more numerous than in the older piece, and somewhat more varied. As thus:--

[19] At the Strand in 1862, with Rogers, Clarke, Miss A. Swanborough,
Miss C. Saunders, Miss F. Josephs, and Miss F. Hughes in the principal
parts. The full title of the piece was "Puss in a New Pair of Boots."

_Will._ What! left his youngest child, a cat!

_Bob._ It's true.

_Will._ Well, that's a _feline_ sort of thing to do.

Again:--

_Cat._ I am, as you perceive, sir, an I-_tale_-ian,
But never scratch my friends, though I'm an n_ailey'un_;
It's only foes that ever raise my fur.

_Will._ Well, really you're a charming _furry_-ner.

Once more:--

_Will._ What can you do?

_Cat._ My pictures folk applaud;
They say they're scratchy, but resemble _Claude_.
I'm not much of a linguist, my good friend,
But I've a-_talion_ at my finger's end;
I can't dance well amongst young ladies, yet
I come out very well in a _puss-et._
I sing at times like any _cat-a-lani_.

_Will._ Your favourite opera is----

_Cat._ The _Purr_-itani.

In the course of the piece King Noodlehead sings a song in which some fun is made of the conventionalities of Italian opera:--

At the Opera, and at Covent Garden as well,
I have always observed that the expiring swell,
Tho' you'd fancy just there he'd be shortest of breath,
Sings a difficult song just before his own death.
Such as diddle, diddle, diddle,
Chip chop ri chooral i day,
That's how they arrange things at the Operay.

And I've likewise remarked that the young hero-ine
Walks about in a low dress of thin white sat-in,
Defying the fog, and the cold and the damp,
And also rheumatics, and likewise the cramp.
With a diddle, diddle, diddle, etc.

I've remarked that the peasants who come on the scene,
Are, p'raps, awkward, but still most offensively clean,
They lay monstrous stress on the "_whens_" and the "_whats_,"
And sing--"Oh, joy"--together like mere idi-ots.
With a diddle, diddle, diddle, etc.

One of the prettiest and wittiest of Planché's adaptations from Perrault's store was "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood," seen at Covent Garden in 1840. The Beauty was the Princess Is-a-Belle--of course, Mme. Vestris; the inevitable King--Thomas Noddy of No-Land--was the inevitable Bland; James Vining was Prince Perfect; and Brougham was a woodcutter--one Larry O'Log. But the most whimsical character in the piece was played by Harley--the Baron Factotum, "Great-Grand-Lord-Everything," who may be compared with Pooh-Bah in Mr. Gilbert's "Mikado." In "The Mikado," Ko-Ko is "Lord High Executioner of Titipu," and Pooh-Bah is "Lord High Everything Else"--he is "First Lord of the Treasury, Lord Chief Justice, Commander-in-Chief, Lord High Admiral, Master of the Buckhounds, Groom of the Backstairs, Archbishop of Titipu, and Lord Mayor, both acting and elect, all rolled into one." The Baron Factotum is even more embarrassed with offices and duties. As he says at one juncture:--

I shall go crazy. Ye who sigh for place,
Behold and profit by my piteous case.
As Lord High Chamberlain, I slumber never;
As Lord High Steward, in a stew I'm ever!
As Lord High Constable, I watch all day;
As Lord High Treasurer, I've the deuce to pay;
As Great Grand Cupbearer, I'm handled queerly;
As Great Grand Carver, I'm cut up severely.
In other States the honours are divided,
But here they're one and all to me confided;
They've buckled Fortune on my back--until
I really feel particularly ill!
Young man, avoid the cares from State that spring,
And don't you be a Great Grand anything.

He then sings, to the tune of "Where the bee sucks":--

Who would be a Great Grand Lord High,
All the blame on him must lie;
Everywhere for him they cry,
Up and downstairs he must fly--
After all folks, verily!
Verily, verily! Few would live now
Under the honours beneath which I bow.

The programme of the "The Sleeping Beauty" bore the following notice:--

In strict accordance with the Modern School of Melodramatic Composition, Eighteen years are to be supposed to have elapsed between the First and Second Parts; One Hundred years between the Second and Third Parts; and considerably more than One Hundred after the piece is over.

Planché went again to Perrault--directly or indirectly-- for his "Blue Beard" (1839) and his "Discreet Princess" (1855). The last named (from "L'Adroite Princesse") was notable as including in its cast Robson as Prince Richcraft, and Emery as Gander the Stupendous. In "Blue Beard" Bland played the Baron Abomelique (the hero), Mme. Vestris the heroine (Fleurette), and John Brougham, the actor-dramatist, an Irish character--the O'Shac O'Back. How often has this fascinating subject been dealt with since! Dozens of pantomimes have had it for a basis; the burlesques founded on it are not quite so numerous. The best known are those by H. J. Byron (1860) and Mr. Burnand (1883); there are also two others by H. T. Arden and Frank Green.

But it was to the "Contes des Fées" of Madame D'Aulnoy that Planché was most largely indebted for his fairy stories. The list (extending from 1842 to 1854) is quite an imposing one. First came "Fortunio, and his Seven Gifted Servants," based on "Belle-Belle, ou le Chevalier Fortuné." Next, "The Invisible Prince, or the Island of Tranquil Delights," taken from "Le Prince Lutin." "Le Rameau d'Or" suggested "The Golden Branch," and "The King of Peacocks"[20] had its origin in "La Princesse Rosette." From "Le Serpentin Vert" was derived "The Island of Jewels"; from "L'Oiseau Bleu," "King Charming, or the Blue Bird of Paradise"; from "La Grenouille Bienfaisante," "The Queen of the Frogs"; from "La Biche au Bois,"[21] "The Prince of Happy Land, or the Fawn in the Forest"; from "La Princesse Carpillon," "Once upon a Time there were Two Kings"; and from "Le Nain Jeune," "The Yellow Dwarf and the King of the Gold Mines." "Beauty and the Beast" was taken from a tale by Mme. le Prince de Beaumont; but Planché claimed that the treatment was wholly new. He had Vestris for his Beauty, Harrison the tenor for his Beast, and Bland for his Sir Aldgate Pump, the father of Beauty. "The Good Woman in the Wood" was from a story by Mme. de la Force; and "Young and Handsome" from a faërie by the Countess de Murat. "Graciosa and Percinet" likewise had a French origin.

[20] This, first played at the Lyceum in 1860, was afterwards revived
at the St. James's with Miss Kate Terry as the Princess.

[21] Other versions of this tale have been written by Maddison Morton
(at Drury Lane), and by Mr. Burnand (at the Holborn in 1868, under the
title of "The White Fawn").

It was, however, in each case only for the fable that Planché had to give thanks: everything else--even in most instances the nomenclature--was his own. And that nomenclature was often very ingenious and amusing. Thus, in "Fortunio," we have an impecunious noble called Baron Dunover (played by Morris Barnett). In "The Invisible Prince" the name of the Queen of Allaquiz is Blouzabella; her son is the Infante Furibond;[22] and among her courtiers are the Marquis of Anysidos, Count Palava Torquemova (who introduces the ambassadors), and Don Moustachez de Haro y Barbos (Captain of the Guard). In the same piece, the Princess of the Island of Tranquil Delights is called Xquisitelittlepet, and her ladies in waiting are Toxaloto-tittletattle and Itsaprettipetticoat. Soyez Tranquille (with a clever suggestion of Soyer) is the _chef de cuisine_ in "The King of the Peacocks," in which there is also an Irishman, The O'Don't Know Who, and a German, the Baroness Von Huggermugger. Planché's kings and queens have mostly comic names. There is Giltgingerbread the Great, with Tinsellina, his consort, in "The Island of Jewels." There is Henpeckt the Hundredth in "King Charming"; there is Fulminoso the Pugnacious in "The Queen of the Frogs"; there is Periwigulus the Proud in "Once upon a Time there were Two Kings." Henpeckt, again, has a valet called Natty, and a porter called Nobby. Elsewhere we come across an usher named Antirumo, an Indian named Tan-tee-vee (of the tribe of Tal-hee-ho), and an evil genius named Abaddun. The Yellow Dwarf is christened, very appropriately, Gambogie.[23]

[22] This part, originally played (in 1846) by James Bland, was played
by Mr. Toole at the Adelphi in 1859, and afterwards by George Honey at
the Princess's.

[23] The part of the Yellow Dwarf was first played (Olympic, 1854) by
Robson, of whose performance Planché says that "So powerful was his
personation of the cunning, the malignity, the passion and despair of
the monster, that he elevated extravaganza into tragedy." At one point
his delivery of the lines moved Thackeray almost to tears. "It is not a
burlesque," he exclaimed: "it is an idyll."

"The Yellow Dwarf," it may here be chronicled, is the title of a burlesque by Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett and by Mr. Robert Reece; A'Beckett's being produced in 1842, Planché's in 1854, and Mr. Reece's in 1882. "Beauty and the Beast" has been made the subject of travestie by Mr. Burnand. The "Fortunio" of Planché was also rivalled in the "Lady Belle Belle, or Fortunio and his Seven Magic Men" of H. J. Byron (Adelphi, 1863).[24] This last was in a thoroughly H. J. Byronic vein, with a Count Collywobbol among its characters and the usual supply of puns and parodies. Here are a few of the best of the puns. The Princess Volante is a very Atalanta in her fondness for race running:--

[24] Byron was indebted to Mme. D'Aulnoy for the idea of his "Orange
Tree and the Humble Bee, or The Little Princess who was Lost at Sea"
(Vaudeville, 1871).

I'll run a race
With any living ped, through wind or rain;
Some like what's handsome--I prefer the _plain_.
I have this morning run a spanking heat,
Two miles in just ten minutes.

_King._ Wondrous _feat_!

_Prin._ Everything pedal has its charms for me.
I'd have gone miles the great Miss _Foote_ to see.
My tastes are visible e'en at my meals;
My favourite fish, of course, are _soles_ and _eels_.
Pota_toes_ I consider are _A-oners_,
Though I've a preference for scarlet-_runners_.
And when at children's parties I am present,
I think a game at four-_feits_ very pleasant.

"The White Cat," by Planché (1842), has among its _personæ_ Wunsuponatyme, King of Neverminditsnamia; Prince Paragon; and Jingo, a Court fool. In "The Fair One with the Golden Locks" (1843), the King is called Lachrymoso,[25] and the woman of the bedchamber Molly-mopsa. Finally, there is "The Seven Champions of Christendom" (1849), in which Charles Mathews played Charles Wag, Esq., "in attendance on" St. George of England. With this ends the list of Planché's compositions of this kind--a remarkable contribution to the stage literature of wit and humour.

[25] Lachrymoso was played by Mr. Toole at the Adelphi so recently as
1860.

From Planché's "Seven Champions of Christendom" to the "St. George and the Dragon" of Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett (1845) and the "Sir George and a Dragon, or We are Seven" of Mr. Burnand (1856) is a natural and easy transition. In A'Beckett's piece, Kalyba, the sorceress, has stolen St. George when a child, in order that he might fall in love with her, and so rescue her from prophesied destruction. Getting rid of her with a wave of her own wand, he turns up with his fellow Champions at Memphis, where King Ptolemy is in a state of impecuniosity, the Dragon having swallowed up all his resources. The monster demands the King's daughter Sabra, but St. George contrives to trick him out of the legal securities he holds, and eventually destroys him by the power of the steam press. There is a vein of allegory running through the piece, which has, however, its share of _jeux de mots_. Thus, Kalyba's handmaid says to her:--

Your hair, my lady, 's getting rather dry,
Some of the Russian balsam shall I try?

_Kaly._ Well, p'raps you may--yet no--upon the whole,
Anything Russian's hurtful to the _Pole_.
The very thought my nervous system shocks,
O! would that mine were like Chubb's--safety locks!
Should I turn grey, I'd bid the world good-bye.

_Maid._ If you turn grey, it would be time to _dye_.

Elsewhere there is some sarcasm at the expense of the newspapers. St. George says to Sabra:--

These evening papers, blow the horn and cry them;
Inviting every one to come and buy them.
This is the way the sort of thing is done--
(_Crying_) Se-cond edition here! the _Memphis Sun_,
Wondrous intelligence! for here you have in it
The sudden resignation of the Cabinet.

_Sab._ The Cabinet resigned!

_St. G._ No, that's mere vapour!
You must say something, just to sell the paper.

In Mr. Burnand's version, which is the longer of the two, there is much more story, and there are many more puns. St. George has not so prominent a place in the action, which is more elaborate and varied; while the dialogue is in the writer's most rollicking mood. Take, for example, these, lines of Kalyba's, addressed to her sirens:--

_1st Siren._ Madame, there is a four-oared boat in view without a
steerer.

_Kalyba_ (using pince-nez). P'raps the Harvard crew.
No, they don't row _half hard_ enough for that;
Take care! they'll go ashore upon the flat.
They don't row well, but with uncommon pluck;
The stroke wants art--p'raps he's a stroke of luck.
I wonder where they come from! maybe Dover!
A crab! as sure as _eggs_ is _eggs_ they're _ova_!
Attract them here; you must not let them pass;
Some visitors--give me my looking-glass (_they offer telescope_).
Not that (_they give her a hand-mirror_).
Now sing, as Sirens did before us;
We _lure_ all here with tooral _looral_ chorus.
To practise bathing arts we've our diploma.
(_All have by this time produced the hand-mirrors and combs._)
To attitudes! (_All pose themselves combing hair, etc._)
We're in a state of _comber_.

Here, again, is a specimen of daring pun-making:--

_Vizier._ Sultan of Egypt, this pathetic tear
Proves you've one faithful _Vizier_ left--_viz. here_.

_Sultan._ My star is set.

_Vizier_ (_looking at star on Sultan's breast_). With honour you
have borne it.
Stop! if your _star is set_ in diamonds, pawn it.

_Sultan._ The real one--this sham one's rather tasty--
Is gone: so _requiescat_--sir--_in pastey_.

A popular subject with the writers of burlesque for Christmastide has been the time-honoured one of Cinderella. The first travestie of any importance was by Albert Smith and Kenny, seen at the Lyceum so long ago as 1845. Next came H. J. Byron's version at the Strand in 1860, followed by Mr. Green's in 1871, Mr. Wilton Jones's (at Leicester) in 1878, and Mr. Reece's (at the Gaiety) in 1883. A provincial burlesque on this topic was called "Done-to-a-Cinderella," and in America there has been a "Cinder-Ellen." Mr. Reece's piece was called, simply, "Our Cinderella"; Mr. Jones's, "Little Cinderella." Byron's was christened "Cinderella, or the Lover, the Lackey, and the Little Glass Slipper." It has been a great favourite with the public ever since it was first played with Maria Simpson as Cinderella, Miss Oliver as the Prince (Popetti), Miss Charlotte Saunders as his valet Dandino, John Clarke as the Baron Balderdash, and Rogers and Miss Lavine as Clorinda and Thisbe. Over and over again has this clever piece of work served as the basis of pantomime "openings" both in town and country.

Following the traditional story closely enough, it bristles with the puns in which Byron revelled, and which he poured forth with singular and somewhat exhausting lavishness. Thus, we find Dandino saying:--

As I've made my bed so I must lie.
Continuing _bed_ metaphor, sir--I,
When quite a child, the blackest draught would drain,
And took my _pill_--oh! on _account o' pain!_
And as my youthful feathers all unfurled
Seemed formed to make a _bold stir_ in the world,
Little dreamt I I should appear a valet as,
For I seemed born to reign in royal _palliasse_;
But suddenly the future seemed to frown;
Fortune gave me a quilt, an' _I'd a down_.

A little farther on Dandino and the Prince, who are about to exchange characters for the nonce, have the following little contest in pun-making:--

_Dandi._ But I must have a change of toggery:
This coat, you will admit, is not the best cut,
And neither is my waistcoat quite the _West cut_.
I must di_vest_ myself of that affair:
These buckles ain't the thing for _Buckley_ Square.

_Prince._ You shall be decked in gems of vast expense,
And be a gem-man in a double sense.
Your servant, I will wait, clean boots, wash glasses;
Thus serve a nob, a_n' ob-serve_ all that passes.

_Dandi._ Then you'll obey me till you've found La Donna?
You _pledge_ your princely word?

_Prince_ (_shaking his hand heartily_). _A-pawn_ my honour.

An even better instance of Byron's tendency to run a pun to death is to be found in this colloquy between the Prince and Cinderella. The latter says:--

_Cind._ Cinders and coals I'm so accustomed to,
They seem to me to tinge all things I view.

_Prince._ That fact I can't say causes me surprise,
For _kohl_ is frequently in ladies' eyes.

_Cind._ At morn, when reading, as the fire up-burns,
The print to stops--to semi-_coaluns_--turns.
I might as well read Coke.

_Prince._ Quite right you are,--
He's very useful reading at the _bar_.
(_Chaffingly_) Who is your favourite poet?--Hobbs?

_Cind._ Not quite.
No, I think, _Cole_-ridge is my favourite;
His melan-_coally_ suits my situation;
My dinner always is a _coald coal_-lation,
Smoked pictures all things seem, whate'er may be'em,
A _cyclorama_, through the "_Coal I see 'em_"

More acceptible in, pantomime than in travestie, "Little Red Riding Hood" has nevertheless been the heroine of at least one burlesque which has made its mark--namely, that which Leicester Buckingham brought out at the Lyceum just thirty years ago, under the auspices of Edmund Falconer. He had Miss Lydia Thompson for his Blondinette (Red Riding Hood), and Miss Cicely Nott for the young lady's lover, Colin. The fairy element was freely introduced, and instead of the wolf of the original there was a Baron Reginald de Wolf ("the would-be abductor of Blondinette, who finds he is sold when she 'ab duck'd herself to escape him"). Here and there one gets in the "book" a glimpse of parody; as in--

My protegè--my protegè,
Ah! never look so shy,
For pretty girls seem ugly
When a gloom is in their eye.

Or, again, in--

They say the peasant's life is sweet,
But that we know all trash is, O;
He very little gets to eat,
For often scarce his cash is, O.

Teeth then he gnashes, O,
Gnaws his moustaches, O;
But jolly are the hours he spends
When plentiful the cash is, O.

Passing over "Jack the Giant Killer," which H. J. Byron made the subject of a burlesque, and "Jack and the Beanstalk," which was treated in the same vein by the late Charles Millward, we come to the travesties suggested by stories in the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments." These are fairly numerous. We may note, in particular, some of the versions of the tales of Aladdin, Ali Baba, Prince Camaralzaman, and Abon Hassan, which seem to have offered most attractions to our comic writers.

The first "Aladdin" of importance was that given to the world by Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett in 1844. This was entitled "The Wonderful Lamp in a New Light," and had Wright for its Aladdin and Paul Bedford for its Magician. Next in order of time comes H. J. Byron's "Aladdin, or the Wonderful Scamp,"[26] which has shared the fate of his "Cinderella" as a basis for pantomimes. In this his fondness for _jeux de mots_ is as patent as ever, as well as the ease (without conspicuous finish) with which he fitted words to the songs of the day. Of direct parody there is little in this "Aladdin," which, however, opens with a brief suggestion of "The sea, the sea," sung by the Vizier:--

[26] In this the original Aladdin was Miss Marie Wilton; the Princess
Badroulbadour, Miss Bufton; Widow Twankay, Rogers; Abanazar, Clarke;
The Sultan, Miss Charlotte Saunders; and Pekoe, Miss Fanny Josephs
(Strand, 1861).

The tea! the tea!
Refreshing tea.
The green, the fresh, the ever free
From all impurity.
I may remark that I'll be bound
Full shillings six was this the pound--
Full shillings six was this the pound.
I'm on for tea--I'm on for tea!
For the savour sweet that doth belong
To the curly leaf of the rough Souchong,
Is like nectar to me, nectar to me, nectar to me.
Let others delight in their _eau de vie_--
What matter, what matter? I'm on for tea.

During the last twenty years there have been four other notable burlesques on the "Aladdin" subject--Mr. Alfred Thompson's (1870), Mr. Green's (1874), Mr. Reece's (1881), and Mr. Geoffrey Thorn's (1890). With Mr. Reece's are associated pleasant memories of the bright "street boy" of Miss Farren, Mr. Edward Terry's whimsical magician, and the grace and refinement of Miss Kate Vaughan's Badroulbadour.

Second only to "Aladdin" in acceptability both to authors and to public, is the story of "Ali Baba, or the Forty Thieves." Here, again, A'Beckett is (with Mark Lemon) to the fore with the travestie called "Open Sesame, or a Night with the Forty Thieves." This was produced at the Lyceum Theatre, and had Mr. Frank Matthews for its Ali Baba, Mrs. Alfred Wigan for its Ganem, Wigan himself for its O'Mustapha (he was an Irish Mussulman), the beautiful Miss Fairbrother for its Abdallah, Keeley for its Hassarac, Miss Georgina Hodson for its Cogia, and Mrs. Keeley for its Morgiana. _There_ was a cast for you! How many burlesque casts of our own time could lay claim to so much talent and beauty? Cassim, in this piece, had to make one admirable pun:--

Such heaps of gems I never saw before:
E'en Mortimer can't boast of such a Storr.

Elsewhere, O'Mustapha, who was a shoemaker, had to say:--

Business is dreadful bad--what's to be done?
Where I sold fifty boots, I don't mend one.
No longer Wellingtons are all the go:
High-lows alone are worn by high and low.
In vain upon my door this bill I fix--
"Five thousand Bluchers, all at 8_s._ 6_d._,
Strong boys' at 3_s._ 9_d._"--folks once would use,
But now it's quite another pair of shoes.

A'Beckett, however, did not lay himself out for punning in and out of season. His chief merit is the neatness of his style and the pervading nature of his wit.

The most famous of all the Ali Baba travesties was that "joint-stock" burlesque, "The Forty Thieves," written by members of the Savage Club, and performed by the authors themselves at the Lyceum, in 1860, for the benefit of the families of two literary men just then deceased. Planché wrote the prologue for this piece, and it was at once so brilliant and so admirably delivered by Leicester Buckingham that it nearly obtained the extraordinary honour of an encore. It was followed, three years later, by H. J. Byron's "Ali Baba, or the Thirty-Nine Thieves (in accordance with the author's habit of taking one off!)."[27] Abdallah, the captain of the thieves (played by Miss Ada Swanborough), was here depicted as a rascal of the quiet, elegant order, in sharp contrast to the Surrey-side villainy of his lieutenant, Hassarac. A colloquy between these gave Byron an opportunity of satirising the melodramatic criminal of the "good old times":--

[27] Miss P. Marshall, Ganem; George Honey, Hassarac; Miss Bufton,
Cogia; Miss F. Hughes, Zaide; Miss C. Saunders, Morgiana (Strand, 1863).

_Abdal._ From all you say, my friend, you see it's plain
That vulgar violence is on the wane;
Therefore become more polished in your style,
And, like King Richard, murder when you smile.
I go into society, and none
Know I'm a thief, or could conceive me one;
I start new companies--obtain their pelf,
And, having started them, I start myself;
Swindle the widow--the poor _orphan_ do--
And then myself become an _off 'un_ too.

_Hassarac._ Bother! that's not of villainy my notion;
Give me the tangled wood or stormy ocean--
A knife--dark lantern--lots of horrid things,
With lightning, every minute, at the wings;
A pistol, big enough for any crime,
Which never goes off at the proper time;
Deep rumbling, grumbling music on the drums--
A chord whenever one observes "She comes";
An opening chorus, about "Glorious wine";
A broadsword combat every sixteenth line;
Guttural vows of direst vengeance wreaking,
And thunder always when one isn't speaking.
That was the style--exciting, if not true,
At the old Cobourg;

_Abdal._ Oh, _coburg_lar, do--(_crosses to R._)
You're horrifying me!

_Hassarac_ (_draws_). Spoon! sappy! duffer!
Ha, ha! lay on, you milk-and-water muff-a,
And _hem'd_ be he who first cries hold enough-a!

In 1872 Mr. Reece wrote for the Gaiety a piece called "Ali Baba à la Mode"; in 1880 he prepared for the same theatre another version called "The Forty Thieves."[28] This latter, if I remember rightly, was the first of the burlesques in three acts. It presented in Mr. Terry (Ali Baba), Miss Farren (Ganem), Mr. Royce (Hassarac), and Miss Vaughan (Morgiana), a quartett which is specially well remembered for the _verve_ and vivacity of its performance.

[28] A burlesque on the subject of "Ali Baba" was written by Mr.
Gilbert Arthur a'Beckett.

The fortunes of Prince Camaralzaman have been pictured on the burlesque stage by the Brothers Brough, by Messrs. Bellingham and Best, by H. J. Byron, and by Mr. Burnand.[29] "Camaralzaman and Badoura, or the Peri who loved the Prince," was the Broughs' title, and they had the assistance of Mrs. Keeley, of Keeley (as a Djinn), of Bland (as the Emperor Bung), of Miss Reynolds (as Badoura), and of Miss Horton (as the hero). Dimpl Tshin was the name given to one of the characters, and Skilopht that of another. The original story was followed in the main. Camaralzaman declines to marry at his father's request, and is incarcerated. In that position he soliloquises:--

[29] In the years 1848, 1865, 1871 and 1884 respectively.

'Tis now the very witching time of night,
Which, were I free, would bring with it delight;
Now could I drink hot grog, hear comic songs,
Or join the gay Casino's gladsome throngs,
Or drain, 'midst buzzing sounds of mirth and chaff,
The foaming stout, or genial half-and-half;
But here a prisoner condemned to stop,
I can indulge in neither malt nor "hop."
O, cruel Pa! to place me in this state,
Because I would avoid your own sad fate.
Dear mother, though a model of a wife,
Gave me a slight distaste for married life.
Better be thus than free, and have to stand
"An eye like Ma's, to threaten and command."

Camaralzaman then breaks out into the following little bit of vocal parody:--

The Pope he leads a happy life,
Because he hasn't got a wife;
And one to take he's not so flat,
He knows a trick worth two of that.
No shrill abuse his ear affrights
For stopping out too late at nights;
No curtain lectures damp his hopes:
A happy lot must be the Pope's.

The Broughs were always ingenious in their word-plays. Says one of the characters in this burlesque:--

Soon, I feel, with passion and disgust,
Within this _bosom_ there will be a _bust_.

Again:--

I wonder how he'd look with a moustache;
He's got none yet, though, thanks to sorrow's growth,
He feels a little _down about the mouth_.

Says Badoura to a suitor whom she does not favour:--

I may be handsome, but I'll now be plain;
So, I'll not have you, sir--you kneel in vain;

to which he replies:--

Can one so fair thus speak to her adorer?
Your form a _Venus_, but your words a _Floorer_.

In the piece by Messrs. Bellingham and Best--"Prince Camaralzaman, or the Fairies' Revenge"[30]--we find, amid many well-conceived and well-executed puns, a rather successful adaptation of the "To be, or not to be" soliloquy, possessing the merit of being quite in keeping with the character of the matrimony-scorning Camaralzaman:--

[30] These authors were happy in having Miss Ellen Farren to represent
their hero, Miss Henrietta Lindley being the Badoura, W. H. Stephens
and Mrs. Stephens the King and Queen, and Mr. Soutar the Skidamalink
(King of the Isle of Ebony) (Olympic, 1865).

To wed or not to wed--that is the question
Which weighs me down like midnight indigestion.
Whether it is nobler in a man to bear
The stings and taunts of an outrageous fair,
Or to take arms against a married life,
And, by opposing, shun it? To wed a wife--
No more; for by a wife we say we end
The undarned stockings laundresses won't mend,
The buttonless shirts and all the botheration
That single flesh is heir to--a consummation
Devoutly to be wished--forswear the club
And wed, perchance, a flirt,--ay, there's the rub;
For in our married lives what rows there would be,
If all were not precisely as it should be!
And who would bear a scolding vixen's tongue,
Backed by a mother-in-law, not over young;
The cook, who, when annoyed, the dinner burns,
The insolence of Buttons, and the spurns
That patient masters from their servants take,
When one a quiet house might always make
By keeping single? I'll not change my lot,
But rather bear the ills that I have got
Than fly to others that I yet know not.

In another passage, the "spiritualistic" craze is satirised in a so-called "chant":--

Abracadabra, mystic word, come down to us from the cosmogony,
'Tis the spell that binds the spirits beneath Mr. Home's mahogany;
You've been to a _séance_, of course, when darkness baffles the
searcher,
And a spectral hand rises quivering--sceptics hint that it's
gutta-percha.
When ghostly fingers are tickling some foolish old fellow's fat
dumpy knee,
And the medium floats as easily as a modern bubble company;
'Tis then that the spirits are working--to asses the men they
transmogrify
By spells that have nothing in common with the generally received
orthography.

Two of the burlesques on "Arabian Nights" topics are from the pen of Francis Talfourd. First came--in 1852, at the Olympic--"Ganem, the Slave of Love" (with Miss Fanny Maskell as Fetnah, the caliph's favourite); and later--in 1854, at the St. James's--"Abon Hassan, or the Hunt after Happiness" (with Mr. Toole as Haroun-al-Raschid). In the former piece the wealth of felicitous punning is remarkable. Thus, in his very, first speech, Ganem, coming in intoxicated, says:--

All things around me seem involved in doubt,
I only know that I've been, dining out.
I've made some blunder, sure--but how I've made it
Is from my dizzy pate quite dissipated.
A light upon my understanding breaks--
I must be drunk! Or what is it thus makes
My head to stoop and butt the ground incline,
Unless the butt of beer or stoop of wine?
Now, to go on--so--Ganem, my boy, steady--
I can't go far--I'm too far gone already.
Ah! could I swarm this lime, I might, _sans doute_,
Learn from its friendly branch my proper route.

In other places we read:--

A needlewoman's life's, at best, but _sew-sew_

(which is as true as it is witty);

_Alkalomb._ He had the freedom, sir, to squeeze me.

_Giaffar._ Yes,
You wouldn't check the freedom of the _press_.

_Caliph._ In his affections I stand no competitor

(_squaring up_),

And for that _belle's life_ you'll find I'm a _head-hitter_.

_Malevola._ I'm her abettor in the plucky course.

_Caliph._ You couldn't, ma'am, _abet her_ in a _worse_.

"Abon Hassan" is less freely endowed with verbal pleasantry, but it has its fair share of puns, and the songs are numerous and bright. At the close, the hero, addressing the audience, allows himself to drop into the reflective mood:--

In mine, read a too common history--
How many an unfortunate, like me,
With feverish haste the cup of pleasure begs,
To find experience in its bitter dregs!
The wretched man sips at the draught now hated.
Unless, like me, he gets _a-man-sip-hated_.
Beware, then, how you mix and make your cup,--
I'll give you a receipt for it: boil up
In a clean vessel--say your own clay crock--
As much good humour as will form your stock;
Throw in to others' faults a modest blindness,
Adding a quart of milk of human kindness;
Scrape up a few acquaintances, but you
Had better take care they're your wife's friends too:
Omit the mother-in-law, if you've the power,
As apt to turn the milk aforesaid sour!
Skim off bad habits from the surface: you'll
Then let it stand--'tis better taken cool;
Or, should you be in love a far-gone coon,
Stir the whole gently with a virtuous "spoon";
In which case, flavour with a dash of sentiment,
Garnish with smiles, and drink it with contentment![31]

[31] Another burlesque on the same story, entitled "Abon Hassan, or An
Arabian Knight's Entertainment," was brought out at the Charing Cross
Theatre in 1869. The author's name was Arthur O'Neil, and the cast
included Miss Emily Fowler as the hero, and Mr. Flockton as Haroun
Alraschid.

On German faërie our comic dramatists have not drawn at all largely. Such pieces as Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett's "Knight and the Sprite, or the Cold-Water Cure," with Ondine as its heroine; H. J. Byron's "Nymph of the Lurleyburg, or the Knight and the Naiads," based on the Lurline legend; and Mr. Burnand's "Rumpelstiltskin, or the Woman at the Wheel," founded on one of the Brothers Grimm's narratives, are exceptional incursions in this field. The first was seen at the Strand in 1884, with Mrs. Walter Lacy as Sir Hildebrand, and with Hall and Romer in other parts. "The Nymph of the Lurleyburg" has often done duty for the purposes of Christmas extravaganza. When it was first performed--in 1859--Miss Woolgar was the Sir Rupert the Reckless, Mr. Toole the Seneschal, and Paul Bedford the Baron Witz, the _locale_ being the Adelphi. Mr. Burnand introduced into "Rumpelstiltskin" (Royalty, 1864) a few modifications of the German tale, inventing and importing new characters. In one of the scenes he furnished a diverting suggestion of the situation in "The Ticket of Leave Man," when there comes the sudden and effective revelation of "Hawkshaw the Detective!" Among the _personæ_ are King Tagarag the Tremendous, Prince Poppet, Baron Higgle-de-Piggle, Wriggleletto (the court spy), Jolinosio (a miller), and Fraulein Splitaharter (the belle of the village). Miss Ada Cavendish was the Princess Superba.

"The Vampire"--a burlesque by Mr. Reece, which was played at the Strand in 1872--appears to have owed its origin about equally to the German legend, the romance which Lord Byron wrote on the subject, and the play which Dion Boucicault founded on the topic in 1852. As, however, the legend was the inspiration alike of romance, play, and travestie, the travestie may be mentioned here. Mr. Reece had drawn the Vampire as a being so fond of "blood," that he sought to possess it in the shape of the notebooks of two "sensation"-novelists, one of whom, Lady Audley Moonstone, was admirably represented by Mrs. Raymond.[32] The following specimen of the dialogue has been handed down to us. Some one says to a Welsh corporal:--

On Monday and on Tuesday you were queer:
Why drink on Wednesday?

_Corporal._ 'Cause I'm _Thursday_, dear.

[32] Mr. Edward Terry was the Vampire himself, and other parts were
taken by Harry Cox, Miss Rose Cullen, and Miss Topsy Venn.

In the realm of Spanish legend there have been still fewer explorers. Albert Smith took one of Washington Irving's tales of the Alhambra, and fashioned it into "The Alhambra, or The Beautiful Princess," played at the Princess's in 1851, with the Keeleys, Wigan, Harley, Flexmore, and Miss Vivash. H. J. Byron afterwards went to the same source for "The Pilgrim of Love," in the first cast of which--at the Haymarket in 1860--we find the names of Mrs. Buckingham White as the Pilgrim, Chippendale as his tutor, Compton as the King of Toledo, Rogers as the King of Granada, and C. Coghlan as Mafoi, a Frenchman: a rather notable collocation of distinguished players.

The Fables of Æsop have inspired at least one travestie--"Leo the Terrible," by Stirling Coyne and Francis Talfourd. In this piece (brought out at the Haymarket in 1852) all the characters but four wore the heads of beasts or birds--a lion (Bland), a wolf (Buckstone), a fox, an owl, a ram, a poodle, a cat (Miss Maskell), and so on. The four exceptions were Sir Norval de Battersea, Timoleon Sindbad Potts (Keeley), Æsop, and Gay; and the play opened with a _rencontre_ between the two last-named worthies. Æsop began with a vocal parody on "The Light of other Days":--

To write in other days as Gay did,
The world is grown too fast;
The rage for La Fontaine has faded--
The stream run dry at last.
On me the world has turned the tables
And turned to bad, I guess;
For they who thus can spurn my Fables
Must care for morals less.
Stop; who comes here? If I to judge am able,
'Tis Gay, the worthiest son of modern Fable.

_Enter Gay dejectedly._

How dull and sad he seems!

_Gay_ (_soliloquising_). My old dominion
On earth is gone.

_Æsop_ (_rising_). Gad! that's just my opinion.

_Gay._ Æsop! What brings you here? Why thus, by Styx,
Are you, your staff and luggage, in a fix?
As downcast as a 'prentice runaway.

_Æsop._ Am I? Well, _you_ look anything but Gay,
But tell me--whither have you wandering been?

_Gay._ About the world. Such changes now I've seen--
Such altered views of virtue and rascality;
There's not a fable left--'tis all reality.

_Æsop._ Reality! Why, bless your simple soul,
The world's a fable now from pole to pole!
Pills, politics, or projects made to cram one,--
What we called fables once are now called gammon.

In the end, the various animals express repentance for the wrong they have committed; and Æsop, in recognition thereof, restores them to the shapes they formerly presented.

V.

BURLESQUE OF HISTORY.

In this department the artists in travestie have not done so much as might have been expected. Even when we include in the word "history" such things as myths, legends, and traditions, we find that the historical, in comparison with the other fields open to the parodists, has been quite "second favourite." Particularly little has been achieved in the burlesque of foreign persons and events; and, in the case of our own celebrities, the only really familiar figure on the comic stage has been that of "Bluff King Hal." King Arthur, Alfred the Great, Elizabeth, Oliver Cromwell, have made rare appearances in motley. In the by-paths of history, general and local, the burlesque writers have devoted themselves most frequently to popular personages like Herne the Hunter, the Lady Godiva, Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Guy Fawkes, Claude Duval, and Richard Turpin.

The story of Rome has supplied subjects for two of the most notable burlesques of the past twenty years--the "Romulus and Remus" of Mr. Reece, and the "Field Marshal Julius Cnæsar" of Mr. Burnand. The former was played at the Vaudeville in 1872, and had for its chief interpreters Messrs. James and Thorne, who had not yet wholly surrendered burlesque for comedy. Mr. James was Romulus, and Mr. Thorne was Remus; and they came on in the first scene as children, dressed in pinafores and socks, and carrying toys. The pair begin by quarrelling as to which of them was born first. Remus rests his claim on his superior size:--

Nature, perceiving "true grit" and "no shoddy,"
Made me thus "double stout" with "extra body."

To which Romulus replies:--

Though at our birth (when both kicked up a shine)
His cry was _stout_, mine was the _elder whine_!
Hence this thin body, wise folks say who've been here,
"We're sure you are the _elder_, now we've _seen yer_."