Chapter II: Part 2

The first time we saw Blake was in "The Road to Ruin," and the impression he made has never been effaced. We were young, it is true, and sentimental, and easily moved; but our heart tells us that the effect would be the same could we see the actor in the play to-morrow. We have read since of the extraordinary sensation produced by the great Munden in the part of _Old Dornton_; but we have an abiding faith that the acting of the famous Englishman would have been no revelation to Blake; and we cannot, indeed, conceive of any added touch that would not have impaired, rather than heightened, the latter's superb delineation. But Blake's portrayal of the outraged, doting, fond, tender father, is, like his _Jesse Rural_, so fresh in the memory of living persons, that we feel it to be needless to descant upon its beauties. Few will forget the years of his last and long engagement at Wallack's--a fitting crown for a great artistic career. Blake played many parts and rarely touched but to adorn. Even his _Malvolio_, had it not been for the advent of Charles Fisher (who was born in yellow stockings and cross-gartered), would have passed into history as a carefully conceived and highly finished performance. Whenever we see Mr. John Gilbert we are reminded of Blake. There is a grace of action, a courtliness of manner, inseparable from Gilbert, which lends to all his efforts an elevating charm, a feature Blake did not possess in like degree. But the two actors belonged to the same school; their traditions will be much akin; and neither loses in being spoken of in the same breath, and with the same accent of admiration.

Following Placide and Blake is the name of an actor better remembered than either, and whose death is of comparatively recent date. We refer to John Brougham, who for thirty years and more was one of New York's prime favorites, and his name is associated with many of the drama's brightest and worthiest triumphs. His inexhaustible flow of spirits, in his best days, pervaded all his acting, and invested the most unattractive part with an alluring charm, as many a prosaic spot in nature becomes enchanted land by the music of falling waters. Add to this exuberant vitality a rich endowment of mother wit; a bright intelligence; keen sympathy and appreciation, and rare personal magnetism, and you have before you "glorious John," whose hearty voice it was always a pleasure to hear, and whose face, beaming with humor, was always welcomed with delight.

Brougham was Burton's stage manager in 1848, and his dramatization of "Dombey and Son" was first produced in that year. The representation of this play established the Chambers Street Theatre, drew attention to the talents of the stock company, and put money into Burton's purse. If theatres, like other things, succeed either by hook or crook, as the saying is, surely it was by hook that the manager won fame and fortune, for the digit of _Captain Cuttle_ held sway like a wizard's wand. The temptation to dwell here on this renowned Burtonian impersonation is hard to resist; but we must be patient and bide our time.

Brougham played _Bunsby_ and _Bagstock_, investing the oracular utterances of the tar, and the roughness and toughness and "devilish" slyness of the _Major_, with a humor and spirit all his own. We laugh outright as we think of that scene where _Cuttle_ is being rapidly reduced to agony and despair by _Mrs. MacStinger_, and is rescued therefrom by _Bunsby_, who, with a hoarse "Avast, my lass; avast!" advances solemnly on the redoubtable female, and with a soothing gravity ejects the entire _MacStinger_ family, following in the rear himself--_Cuttle_ meanwhile gazing in speechless astonishment at the unexpected succor, until the door is closed; and then, drawing an immense breath, and turning toward the audience his inimitable face, exclaims in a tone of profound respect and admiration: "There's wisdom!"

It was a great treat to see Burton and Brougham together. The two actors were so ready, so full of wit, so alive to each other's points and by-play, that any fanciful interpolation of the text, or humorous impromptu, by the one, was instantly responded to by the other; and the house was often thrown into convulsions of merriment by these purely unpremeditated sallies. This was notably the case in the afterpiece of "An Unwarrantable Intrusion"--committed by Mr. Brougham upon Mr. Burton--when in the tag the comedians suddenly assumed their own persons, and, addressing each other by their proper names, engaged in a droll colloquy respecting the dilemma of having nothing to say to conclude the piece; and each suggesting in turn something that ought to or might be said to an audience under such peculiar and distressing circumstances,--the audience meanwhile in a state of hilarious excitement, drinking in every sparkling jest and repartee, and wishing the flow of humor would last forever.

And here we are reminded of an incident not down in the bills, which furnished an audience with an unlooked-for and affecting episode. It occurred during the performance of Colman's comedy of "John Bull," produced for the benefit of a favorite actor; Burton playing _Job Thornberry_, and Brougham, who had volunteered for the occasion, appearing in his capital rôle of _Dennis Brulgruddery_. Brougham was no longer with Burton--an estrangement existed between them of which the public was aware--and the conjunction of the two actors naturally awakened a lively interest. It chances in the comedy that _Mary Thornberry_ finds a refuge in her distress at the "Red Cow," and is greatly befriended by _Dennis_. Her father, discovering her there, and grateful for the service rendered, exclaims: "You have behaved like an emperor to her. Give me your hand, landlord!" Now, in the play, the reply of _Dennis_ is: "Behaved!--(_refusing his hand_)--Arrah, now, get away with your blarney,"--but Brougham paused for a moment before Burton's outstretched hand, and then, as if yielding to an impulse, stretched forth his, and the two actors stood with clasped hands amidst an outburst of applause that fairly shook the building. Of course they were "called out" at the close, and Brougham, in the course of a felicitous little speech, remarked--alluding, perhaps, to the success of his Lyceum not being all he could wish--that he had "lately run off the track"; to which Burton, in his turn, responded by saying: "Mr. Brougham says he has 'run off the track.' Well, he _has_ run off the track; but he hasn't burst his boiler yet!" At this speech the enthusiasm of the audience knew no bounds; and indeed, with the exception of Mary Taylor's farewell benefit, we can recall no theatrical occasion where more genuine feeling was manifested.

But to return to "Dombey and Son." Mrs. Brougham was the original _Susan Nipper_, and played the part acceptably; but all previous _Nippers_ suffered eclipse when Caroline Chapman appeared at a later date, giving us a _Susan_ that seemed to have sprung full-_Nippered_ from the head of Boz himself. Her inimitable acting and ring of delivery were like a new light turned on the scene. Her flow of spirit and alert movement, her independent air and saucy glance, her not-to-be-put-down-under-any-circumstances manner,--all was freshness and sparkle, and her presence was as welcome to the audience as a summer shower to drooping wayside flowers. Miss Chapman was a great acquisition to Burton's, and her bright individuality shone in all her assumptions. Her line was the stage soubrette, a specialty which she lifted entirely out of the commonplace and informed it with force and distinction. It is a pleasure to place on record the memory of happy hours that we owe to the performances of Caroline Chapman.

The original _Toots_ was Oliver B. Raymond, whom we never saw. T. B. Johnston was his successor, and as that admirable comedian never did any thing unacceptably, his _Toots_ was a memorable effort; and had _Uriah Heep_ not followed we should have been satisfied with his _Toots_; but when "Copperfield" was produced and Johnston appeared as _Heep_, it seemed as if he was born for that and nothing else. Now that we think of it, it seems to us, as we recall Johnston, that nature had peculiarly fitted him for the delineation of many of Dickens's characters. Something in his spare figure, his grotesqueness of demeanor, his whimsical aspect, his odd manner of speech, continually suggested a flavor of Boz; and whether as _Toots_, or _Heep_, or _Newman Noggs_, he seemed to have glided into his element, and was _en rapport_ with the great novelist.

We must not forget, in writing of "Dombey and Son," to note how much its attraction was enhanced by the assumption, in 1849, of the part of _Edith_ by Mrs. Josephine Russell (the present Mrs. Hoey). Laurence Hutton, referring to the event in his volume of "Plays and Players," says: "Up to the time of her assumption of the rôle, _Edith_, in Brougham's version of the story, was comparatively a secondary part, and one to which but little attention had been paid either by performer or audience. Mrs. Russell, however, by her refined and elegant manner, brought _Edith_ and herself into favor and prominence. She made of _Edith_ more than Brougham himself ever imagined could be made; and _Edith_ made her a reputation and a success on the New York stage, which, until her honorable and much-to-be-regretted retirement, she ever sustained.[8]

[8] The first appearance of Mrs. Russell (whose maiden name was Shaw) in Chambers Street was made September 3, 1849.

We have dwelt thus on "Dombey and Son," because, in the first place, it gained for the Chambers Street Theatre an enduring public regard, and was no doubt the incentive to the after-production of dramatizations of Dickens, which gave us Burton in _Micawber_, _Squeers_, _Mr. Bumble_, and _Sam Weller_; and because in so celebrating it we pay a deserved tribute to Brougham, from whose fertile brain and ready pen it came. We may say, in this connection, that not only as actor, but as playwright also, Brougham achieved fame and honor. Many of his comedies are well known to the stage, and are included in the published drama; and as a writer of burlesque we question whether any thing better or funnier than his "Po-ca-hon-tas or the Gentle Savage" has ever been composed. Of one thing we are certain: an incarnate pun-fiend presided over its creation. This extravaganza, first acted at Wallack's Lyceum, took the town by storm, and its bons-mots, local hits, and trenchant witticisms, were on the lips of everybody. In structure, idea, and treatment of theme, it was ludicrous to a degree. Who does not remember Brougham and the late Charles Walcot in their respective parts of _Powhattan_ and _Captain Smith_?

It goes without saying that Brougham's Hibernian delineations were perfect and to the manner born. Many an Irish farce we recall, during his stay at Burton's, to which he gave a new lease of life; and we congratulate ourselves that our memory holds record of having once seen him as _Sir Lucius O'Trigger_, the only cast in our experience wherein Sheridan's creation found a fitting representative.

We now pause before an actor of illustrious lineage; of a name honored in dramatic annals by encomiums bestowed only upon abilities of the highest order; an actor who, conscious of his inheritance of genius, worthily perpetuates the traditions of his house; and who is now, despite the flight of time, the most engaging and accomplished comedian known to the American stage. Our readers will need no further introduction to Lester Wallack, the "Mr. Lester" of Burton's, where first we saw him so many years ago. We recall the evening when we sat in the cosy parquette, awaiting with eager interest the rising of the curtain on Charles Dance's comic drama of "Delicate Ground," in which Mr. Lester would make his "first appearance since his return from England" (so the bill ran), in the character of _Citizen Sangfroid_. We say eager interest, for we had heard much of Mr. Lester: that he was graceful, handsome, _distingué_,--in fact, splendid generally; and our expectancy was akin to that of the watching astronomer--

"When a new planet swims into his ken."

At last the tinkle of the bell; the curtain rose, and enter Miss Mary Taylor, the universal favorite, as _Pauline_. Her soliloquy closes with the cue for _Sangfroid's_ entrance, and at the words, "Hush! my husband!" a pause succeeded--and then from "door left" was protruded an elegantly booted foot, and a moment later Lester stood before us, bowing with characteristic ease and grace to the demonstrations of welcome. We confess to an unconditional surrender on that occasion. The actual fact was far beyond any expectation or hope. We thought we had never seen any one quite so splendid; and _Sangfroid_ was forthwith invested with the best and noblest elements that combine to elevate mankind. We endeavored for many days afterward to conform our daily life to the general teachings of _Sangfroid_; we imitated the gait and manner, the calm aplomb of _Sangfroid_; the accent of _Sangfroid_ was impressed on all our ordinary forms of speech; our conversation on whatever topic was plentifully sprinkled with _Sangfroidisms_; in short, the whole tenor of our existence was shaped and directed by _Sangfroid_ in the person of Mr. Lester. We recovered in due course from our abject submission to the spell of _Sangfroid_; but Lester continued to stretch forth the "sceptre of fascination," and to his matchless grace and finish we owe many a delightful recollection.

Then in early manhood,[9] the unrestrained alertness and vivacity of youth were his in bounteous measure. He was in the _Percy Ardent_ and _Young Rapid_ period, and had not yet entered the corridor of years at the far end of which lurked the _blasé_ figure of "My Awful Dad." We remember him in so many parts which in all likelihood he never will play again! There was _Rover_, in "Wild Oats," that buskined hero, with his captivating nonchalance dashed with tragic fire; his tender conversion of _Lady Amaranth_--played, be it said, with all proper demureness by Miss Lizzie Weston; his triumph over _Ephraim Smooth_--one of Blake's instances of versatility--in a scene rich with the spirit of frolic abandon; and his humorous tilt with _Sir George Thunder_--a belligerent sea-dog, played by Burton as he alone could play it--an episode replete with comic power;--all these contributed to a performance which we revelled in many and many a night; and the memory of it, now as we write, draws near in a succession of vivid pictures. There was _Tangent_, in "The Way to Get Married," a capital part in Lester's hands, blending manly action and debonair grace with that easy transition to airy farcical expression, a favorite and effective dramatic habit of this actor, and given full play in that memorable prison scene in the comedy, when, a victim to adverse circumstances, and actually fettered, he makes felicitous use of his handkerchief to hide his mortification and his chains from the eyes of the heroine during her visit of sympathy. _Percy Ardent_, in "The West End," was another of his characteristic assumptions in those days; so also were _Young Rapid_, in "A Cure for the Heartache," and the _Hon. Tom Shuffleton_, in "John Bull"; and, indeed, Burton's frequent revivals of the old comedies would have been a difficult matter without Lester; for in every one of them a light comedy part is distinctly drawn, and unquestionably the rarest among all dramatic artists is the first-class light comedian.

[9] Lester Wallack's first appearance in New York was made at the
Broadway Theatre, Sept. 27, 1847, as _Sir Charles Coldstream_ in "Used
Up."

Let any one who thinks otherwise endeavor to recall the names of those who have been or are famous in that special line, and he will be surprised to find how few he can enumerate. One might suppose that all young actors would naturally incline toward light comedy, and be ambitious in that direction, since in that sphere are found the charm of youth, the expression of lofty sentiment, the impulse to chivalrous action, the opportunity for the display of graceful and manly bearing,--not to mention the lover, whom, as Emerson declares, all the world loves; and why then, one may ask, should there not be always a plentiful crop of ripening light comedians? Alas, it is not enough to be young, good-looking, intelligent, and of virtuous impulse, or even a lover. Something more is needed, and we conceive it to be that gift of nature, which study and practice develop into seeming perfect art, but which neither study nor practice can create; the gift, let us say, of perceiving instinctively the salient points of a character, and going beyond the author in felicitous and suggestive expression of them. It is easier, we think, to compass tragedy; easier to simulate age; easier to be funny; than to be at once airy and gay, delicately humorous, and engagingly manly. There are fewer light comedians born,--that is the whole story; and where we find one actor like Lester Wallack, we meet with plenty of every other specialty. This was made strikingly evident by Burton's experiments in supplying Lester's place, when the latter joined his father in the establishment of Wallack's Lyceum. Charles Fisher was imported, and he for a season essayed to succeed Lester; but

"The expectancy and rose of the fair state"

he was not, and it was not long before the fiddle of _Triplet_ and the yellow stockings of _Malvolio_ emancipated him from the bondage of light comedy, revealed his true powers, and made us grateful to Burton for introducing to New York one of the best eccentric comedians of the day. Dyott, Norton, and even Holman, were severally thrown into the breach, such was the strait in which the manager found himself; and it was not until he secured George Jordan that equilibrium was restored to the company.

But to return. The versatility of Lester, so conspicuous throughout his career, was early made apparent. We remember him as _Steerforth_, as _Sir Andrew Aguecheek_, and _Captain Murphy Maguire_; and though in the last he acted under the shadow of Brougham's rich impersonation, still he was a delightful _Captain_. We saw him as the young lover, in "Paul Pry"; as _Frederick_, in "The Poor Gentleman," and many more; besides those parts, such as _Young Marlow_, _Charles Surface_, and _Captain Absolute_, which need no reference, since they remain ripe and finished conceptions in his present repertory. But of all his delineations of the past, that which we linger on with the greatest pleasure, and which affected us most, was his _Harry Dornton_, in "The Road to Ruin." From the moment he appears beneath his father's window, importunate for admittance, he awakens an interest and sympathy that follow him to the end. The part abounds in touches of Lesterian hue and flavor: the scene just mentioned; that wherein _Milford_ makes careless and heartless allusion to _Old Dornton_, and is met by _Harry's_ eloquent and electric rebuke; the scene with the _Widow Warren_, and with _Sophia_;--all are charming; and we feel it to be no small tribute to hold in memory Lester's _Harry_ side by side with the _Old Dornton_ of Blake.

We have spoken of T. B. Johnston, and referred to famous parts of his, 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."

The years of the Chambers Street Theatre were fruitful in dramatic events. We have already mentioned "Dombey and Son," in 1848; and that signal triumph was followed by "David Copperfield," "Oliver Twist," "Nicholas Nickleby," and "The Pickwickians." The immortal _Toodles_ was first seen October 2, 1848, and an account of that performance will be found in our Recollections. It became later the custom of the management to present "The Serious Family" and "The Toodles" every Tuesday and Friday in each week, so great was the popularity of those pieces. People came from all parts of the country to see them; parents brought their families and relatives; and one middle-aged couple, a husband and wife, never failed, for successive seasons, to occupy the same seats at every representation. All the old comedies were given in due course, with that perfection of cast to which we have alluded, and those pieces made famous by Burton's acting--such as "The Breach of Promise," "Charles XII.," "Happiest Day of my Life," "Paul Pry," "Family Jars," "Soldier's Daughter," "Charles II.," "How to Make Home Happy," etc., (and which now seem for ever lost,)--were a constant source of joyous pleasure. The wisdom and good judgment of the manager were conspicuous in the nightly programmes, and it may here be said that no theatrical caterer ever excelled Burton in an acute perception of what was needful to meet the public taste, and in providing the requisite entertainment. To wide experience he added intuitive appreciation of stage effect, and his extensive knowledge of the drama was seen in the disciplining of his forces and in his sagacious distributions. It must not be forgotten that as manager as well as actor Burton shone in the prosperity and fame of his theatre; and it will not be when now we touch on the Shakespearian revivals that lent such beauty, grace, and dignity to his stage, and revealed the manager in the gracious aspect of a profound and reverent student of the mighty dramatist. These revivals were the crowning triumphs of Burton's management. The production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream," "Twelfth Night," "The Tempest," "Winter's Tale," "The Merry Wives of Windsor," marked an era in theatrical representation, for up to that time no attempt had been made so ambitious; and the success that attended the enterprise was in all respects richly deserved. "A Midsummer Night's Dream," in particular, won universal admiration. The fairy portion was so beautiful; the play before the duke so capital; that Shakespeare's creation acted upon the public like a revelation, and heart and mind felt the glow of a new sensation. The notices of the press were so unqualified in their praise of "A Midsummer Night's Dream," that they were gathered and issued in a pamphlet as a tribute to the achievement. The effect of the succeeding revivals was similar in kind, and the people marvelled at the resources of a management that on so limited a stage could produce such wonderful results. And with these plays of Shakespeare came the impersonations of _Nick Bottom_, _Sir Toby Belch_, _Caliban_, _Autolycus_, and _Falstaff_--never to be forgotten by those who witnessed them, and of which a more extended review is given in our Recollections. It only needed Shakespeare to round the glory of Chambers Street; after that there were no more worlds to conquer.

Following the years, we find a record of "As You Like It," produced for the benefit of the American Dramatic Fund at the Astor Place Opera-House, January 8, 1850, in which Burton appeared as _Touchstone_, with a cast including Hamblin, Bland, Jordan, Chippendale, Chapman, Miss Cushman, Mrs. Abbott, Mrs. Walcott, and Mrs. J. Gilbert. In the same year he played a short engagement at the Chatham Theatre, and also essayed to revive the old Olympic; but the division of attraction was of brief duration. His home was in Chambers Street, and there, to borrow from Lord Tennyson, the banner of Burton blew. The usual even tenor of the theatre was varied by new accessions to the company, and by first appearances, and other interesting events. The present Miss Maggie Mitchell appeared June 2, 1851, as _Julia_, in "The Soldier's Daughter"; but we cannot say positively that the occasion was her stage débût. May 3, 1852, was the farewell benefit of Mary Taylor, to which reference has already been made. September 6th of the same year was the date of the "Centenary Festival of the Introduction of the Drama into America," at Castle Garden, and we find Burton figuring in the elaborate and attractive programme as _Launcelot Gobbo_, in "The Merchant of Venice." Miss Agnes Robertson made her New York débût October 22, 1853, and November 23d of the same year witnessed the production of "The Fox Hunt," an original comedy by Dion Boucicault, in which Burton appeared as _William Link_. In 1854, that long baronet, Sir William Don, entered upon the scene, and in the same year (December 18th) a benefit to Morris Barnett occurred, on which occasion "The Serious Family" was given with all the honors. Mr. H. A. Perry made his débût in 1856, playing _Gossamer_, in "Laugh When You Can," and that actor was also seen as _Leontes_, in "Winter's Tale."

Every summer for several years, during the recess at Chambers Street, Burton played engagements at Niblo's with a selection from his company, and was seen at that resort in a round of his favorite characters. This was a great boon to strangers visiting the city, and to those whose circumstances kept them in town. It was some consolation to be moved to mirth, and there never was any disaffection in Burton's summer constituency. But the theatrical tide was setting uptown, and the rapid growth of the city counselled a removal to more available neighborhoods; and so, following the current, the manager bid farewell to the scene of so many triumphs, and leased the building originally known as Tripler Hall, calling it the Metropolitan, or, as stated by Ireland, "Burton's New Theatre," where he opened September 8, 1856, with "The Rivals."

The Chambers Street Theatre was opened July 10, 1848, and was closed September 6, 1856. The eight years of its existence are replete with fascinating dramatic history, and are a copious and important contribution to the annals of the stage. It was the school of many an actor who rose to fame, and the most famous actors of the time were seen upon its boards. It was the birthplace of plays and characters never excelled in their effect upon an audience, and its record is graced by a noble and poetic celebration of Shakespeare's immortal works. And who shall say how many hearts were lightened, and spirits cheered, by the good genius of mirth that presided there?

1856-1860.

It goes without saying that the New Theatre, to those who had been accustomed to the cosiness of Chambers Street, was not _Burton's_. The home feeling so peculiar to the other house could not readily be reproduced in the spacious auditorium of the Metropolitan. The far-reaching stage seemed alien and unreal, and the lofty walls were cold and unfamiliar. There were changes in the company, too; old favorites were missing, and a kindred interest was not awakened by new-comers. But the manager was there, and with wonted energy began the campaign. The first season was prosperous, and many of the well-known Chambers Street pieces were revived and given with effect. Daniel Setchell made his appearance September 25, 1856, and grew rapidly in public favor. This comedian at a later date essayed the part of _Aminadab Sleek_; but, as Ireland observes, "Burton's _Sleek_ alone filled the public mind," and the effort was not encouraged. The Irish comedian, John Collins, was seen about this time, and in November Dion Boucicault and wife opened an engagement. January 13, 1857, Burton played _Dogberry_ for the first time in New York, and the same year (May 14th) Edwin Booth appeared at the New Theatre as _Richard III_. It was in this year (October) that Burton was seen in Albany for the first time, playing a round of his famous parts; and it is interesting to note that the present Joe Jefferson, then at Laura Keene's, "during the absence of Burton," to quote Ireland again, "was recognized as the best low comedian in town." Burton also appeared in Boston for the first time in 1857, opening in _Captain Cuttle_. His reception was so extraordinary in warmth and enthusiasm that he lost control of himself and could not speak for several minutes. This engagement was at the Boston Theatre, and every night the house was crammed. He visited Boston again in 1858, and with the same gratifying success.

It is not impossible that these starring tours suggested to Burton a new and prosperous field of activity, and perhaps some physical symptom dictated relief from the strain and responsibility of management. From whatever cause, after another season of varying fortune, the Metropolitan was given up (1858), and he commenced a starring tour with the highest success, "his name and fame," says Ireland, "being familiar in every quarter of the Union, and more surely attractive than any other theatrical magnet that could be presented."

In conjunction with Mrs. Hughes and a few members of his former company, he opened an engagement at Niblo's, July 4, 1859, playing to crowded houses. His last appearance in New York was at the same theatre, on the occasion of his benefit, October 15, 1859, playing _Toodle_ in the afternoon, and _Mr. Sudden_, _Toby Tramp_, and _Micawber_ in the evening, supported by Mrs. Hughes as _Mrs. Toodle_, _Mrs. Trapper_, and _Betsy Trotwood_. "On the day and evening of his benefit," says Ireland, "more than six hundred persons who had paid for tickets received their money back from the box-office, not being able to obtain admission."

On Saturday, December 3, 1859, Mr. Burton started for Hamilton, Canada, to fulfil an engagement there and at Toronto. A terrible snow-storm was met on the way; the train was blocked; and the delay and discomfort consequent were almost unendurable. While recovering from the exposure and fatigue, Mr. Burton wrote the following letter to his children, and we are kindly permitted to make use of it in this volume. It will be read with interest, not only for its feeling, but for its graphic vigor of narration and humorous spirit. And we believe it was the last letter he ever wrote.

HAMILTON, CANADA;
_Sunday, December_ 4, 1859.

MY DARLING CHILDREN: