book one is most struck by the multiplicity and occasional felicity of

the "word-plays." Here, for instance, is what Pierotto says when he is asked to take a cup of wine:--

Well, if you ask me _what_ I'll take, I think Tea I prefer 'bove every other drink. For when I'm teazed, vex'd, worried beyond measure, A _cup_ of tea's to me a _source o'_ pleasure. Whene'er I play, the game is _tea_-to-tum; My fav'rite instrument's a "kettledrum." I've faith, when suff'ring ills heir to humanity, _In senna tea_ that you may say's _insanitee_. And also p'rhaps a little odd 'twill seem here, That I prefer the scenery of _Bohea_-mia. And if I were engaged in deadly strife, I'd stab my en'my with a _Bohea_ knife.

Two of Donizetti's operas--"L'Elisir d'Amore" and "La Fille du Régiment"--were travestied by Mr. W. S. Gilbert; the former under the title of "Doctor Dulcamara, or the Little Duck and the Great Quack," the latter under that of "La Vivandière, or True to the Corps." "Doctor Dulcamara" was played at the St. James's, with Frank Matthews in the title-part. "La Vivandière" (1868) was written for the Queen's Theatre, where it employed the talents of Miss Henrietta Hodson, Mr. Toole, Mr. Lionel Brough, Miss Everard (the original Little Buttercup), and Miss Fanny Addison.

Of Verdi's operas two have been singled out for special attention--"Il Trovatore" and "Ernani." The first of these suggested H. J. Byron's "Ill-Treated Trovatore," seen at the Adelphi in 1863, and another version by the same hand, played at the Olympic seventeen years after. Byron also wrote a travestie of "Ernani," which he called "Handsome Hernani" (Gaiety, 1879); but in this he had been anticipated by William Brough, whose work was seen at the Alexandra Theatre in 1865.

Three travesties have been founded on the "La Sonnambula" of Bellini. The first, which was played at the Victoria Theatre in 1835, was from the pen of Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett, and entitled "The Roof Scrambler"--a title explained in lines spoken by Rudolpho and Swelvino:--

_Rud._ I tell you, there are beings in their dreams Who scramble 'pon the house-tops.

_Swel._ So it seems.

_Rud._ Roof-scramblers they are called; for on the roofs They walk at night--Molly is one.

Molly is the name here given to Amina; Swelvino, of course, is Elvino. He is a sexton, and has plighted his troth to Lizzy; but before the piece opens, he has transferred his affections to Molly Brown, a charity girl--"a Greasy Roamer over the tops of houses." Swelvino and Molly are about to be married, when there arrives at the village Rodolpho, the new Inspector of Police, who introduces himself as follows:--

Ah, here I am again!--I know this scene, In which, when I was young, so oft I've been. I recognise each spot I see around, The stocks know me, and well I know the pound! The sight of these my eyes with tears is filling: I knew that pound when I had not a shilling!

Molly, walking in her sleep, enters Rodolpho's apartment, and is found there by Swelvino, but is vindicated, like her prototype in the opera, by being subsequently discovered in a somnambulant condition. The story of "La Sonnambula" is, in fact, followed closely, but caricatured throughout. W. Rogers, who was the Swelvino, and Mitchell, who was the Molly, appear to have been highly successful in exciting the hilarity of their audiences. The latter portrayed the heroine as "a waddling, thick-set, red-and-ruddy, blowzy-faced goblin, with turn-up nose and carroty hair, wrapt in a pea-soup or camomile-tea-coloured negligée, and carrying," in the sleep-walking scene, "a farthing rushlight in one of Day & Martin's empty blacking-bottles." Of Swelvino's appearance we may judge from a remark made by Molly to her lover:--

I, by looking in your face, can tell What are your feelings excellently well. Oh, yes! the fulness of that ruby nose Your love for me doth passing well disclose; Your agitated whisker shows full well What throbs of passion underneath it dwell!

The two other skits upon the opera were the work of H. J. Byron, who produced the first at the Prince of Wales's in 1865, under the title of "La! Sonnambula! or the Supper, the Sleeper, and the Merry Swiss Boy; being a passage in the life of a famous 'Woman in White': a passage leading to a tip-top story." Miss Marie Wilton was the Merry Swiss Boy (Alessio); Miss Fanny Josephs was Elvino; Mr. Dewar, Rodolpho; "Johnny" Clarke, Amina; Miss Bella Goodall, Lisa; Mr. Harry Cox undertaking the _rôle_ of "a virtuous peasant (by the kind permission of the Legitimate Drama)." This was Miss Wilton's first production at the Prince of Wales's, and it was a great success. In 1878 Byron brought out at the Gaiety a piece which he called "Il Sonnambulo, or Lively Little Alessio." In this he introduced several variations on the operatic story; making the Count (Edward Terry) the somnambulist, instead of Amina--in burlesque of Mr. Henry Neville's sleep-walking scene in Wilkie Collins's "Moonstone." Miss Farren was the lively little Alessio, and Mr. Royce the "local tenor," Elvino.

Of Bellini's "Norma" the first burlesque produced was that which W. H. Oxberry, the comedian, contributed to the Haymarket in 1841. In this the title-part was played by Paul Bedford, with Wright as Adalgisa and Mrs. H. P. Grattan as Pollio. The piece had no literary pretensions, and it would be unfair to compare it, in that or any other respect, with "The Pretty Druidess, or the Mother, the Maid, and the Mistletoe Bough," which Mr. W. S. Gilbert wrote for the Charing Cross Theatre (now Toole's) just twenty-eight years later. This was one of the best of Mr. Gilbert's operatic travesties, the dialogue being characterised by especial point and neatness. Here, for example, is the advice given by Norma (Miss Hughes) to the ladies presiding over the stalls at a fancy fair. Hamlet's address to the players is very happily suggested:--

With pretty speech accost both old and young, And speak it trippingly upon the tongue; But if you mouth it with a hoyden laugh, With clumsy ogling and uncomely chaff-- As I have oft seen done at fancy fairs, I had as lief a huckster sold my wares. Avoid all so-called beautifying, dear. Oh! it offends me to the soul to hear The things that men among themselves will say Of some _soi-disant_ "beauty of the day," Whose face, when with cosmetics she has cloyed it, Out-Rachels Rachel!--pray you, girls, avoid it. Neither be ye too tame--but, ere you go, Provide yourselves with sprigs of mistletoe; Offer them coyly to the Roman herd-- But don't you "suit the action to the word," For in the very torrent of your passion Remember modesty is still in fashion. Oh, there be ladies whom I've seen hold stalls-- Ladies of rank, my dear--to whom befalls Neither the accent nor the gait of ladies; So clumsily made up with Bloom of Cadiz, Powder-rouge--lip-salve--that I've fancied then They were the work of Nature's journeymen.

The "Gazza Ladra" of Rossini lives on the burlesque stage in the counterfeit presentment furnished by Byron's "Maid and the Magpie, or the Fatal Spoon." This was one of the writer's greatest triumphs in the field of travestie. Produced at the Strand in 1854, with Miss Oliver as Ninette, Miss Marie Wilton as Pippo, Bland as Fernando, and Clarke as Isaac (the old-clothes man), it at once hit the public taste, as it well deserved to do, for it is full of clever writing and ingenious incidents. The best scene of all, perhaps, is that in which the broken-down Fernando reveals himself to Ninette--a happy satire upon a familiar melodramatic situation:--

_Ninette_ (_entering_). A stranger here!

_Fernan._ How beautiful she's grown! I say, my dear! (_she starts_) Start not--ha, ha!--do I alarm you?

_Ninette_ (_uneasily_). Rather!

_Fernan_ (_hesitatingly_). Why, miss, you see--the fact is--I'm your father!

_Ninette._ Impossible! I never had one!

_Fernan._ Law!

_Ninette._ That is--I had none that I ever saw.

_Fernan._ Oh, why in battle did no friendly blow Finish her luckless parent long ago? (_in choked accents_) Doth not the voice of nature seem quite clear--eh?

_Ninette._ The voice of nature seems a little beery.

_Fernan_ (_seizing her arm--music piano_). Look at me well!

(_Ninette appears gradually to recognise him._)

_Ninette._ Upon a close inspection, I seem to have a dreamy recollection Of having seen those eyes of yours somewhere, Also that most extensive head of hair; The accents of the voice, too, now I think, Seem broken by emotion, not by drink; Yes, it's all coming back to me, of course.

_Fernan._ Remember, dear, I bought you once a horse, A wooden toy--remember, you had lots-- It ran on wheels--all mane and tail and spots-- Also a dog, a little dog, I vow, Which, when you squeezed it, used to go Bow-wow! Likewise a spade, which, on your nurse's head You broke, and got well spanked and sent to bed----

_Ninette_ (_wildly_). A flood of memory rushes through my brain!

_Fernan_ (_excitedly_). Ninette, my daughter, look at me again.

_Ninette_ (_seizing his nose_). Yes, yes, that nose decides me--yes--you are--

_Fernan._ At last--at last! he--he! she _knows_ her pa!

In a mock love-scene with Ninette, Gianetto (Miss Ternan) draws the following comic picture:--

Fancy a bower with rose and jasmine graced, Such as we see in small tea-gardens placed; Where friendly spiders and black-beetles drop On to your bread and butter with a flop; Where mouldy seats stain sarsnet, satin, silk, And suicidal flies fall in the milk; Where we can scorn the heartless world's attack, Though daddy-longlegs may creep down your back; Smile at society's contemptuous sneer, Though caterpillars tumble in your beer; Where chimneys never smoke, and soot don't fall, Where income-tax collectors never call, Where one's wife's mother never even once Visits her darling daughter for six months; Where bills, balls, banks, and bonnets are not known-- Come, dwell with me, my beautiful--my own.

Turning to the burlesques of opera of the German school, we begin, naturally, with Mozart, whose "Don Giovanni" found humorous reflection in two pieces, by H. J. Byron and Mr. Reece. The former's "Little Don Giovanni"[45] belongs to 1865, when it was performed at the Prince of Wales's, with Miss Wilton (Mrs. Bancroft) as the hero, Clarke as Leporello, Miss Fanny Josephs as Masetto, Mr. Hare as Zerlina (probably his only appearance on the stage in petticoats), Miss Sophie Larkin as Elvira, and Miss Hughes as Donna Anna. Don Giovanni was the last burlesque part written by Byron for Miss Wilton, and, moreover, it was the last burlesque part she ever played. She records in her Memoirs that an amusing feature of the piece was the spectacle presented in the last act by the Commandant's horse, which, in allusion to a recent freak in Leicester Square, had been covered with a variety of spots, and "looked like an exaggerated Lowther Arcade toy." Mr. Reece's burlesque was called "Don Giovanni in Venice," and came out at the Gaiety in 1873.

[45] Byron's "Don Juan," brought out at the Alhambra in 1873, was about equally indebted for its plot to the libretto of Mozart's opera and to Lord Byron's poem.

In 1842 Macready revived at Drury Lane Handel's delightful "Acis and Galatea," and the opera was promptly caricatured by W. H. Oxberry in a piece produced three days afterwards at the Adelphi. The travestie of "Acis and Galatea" which was seen at the Olympic in 1863 was from the pen of Mr. Burnand. Its full title was "Acis and Galatea, or the Nimble Nymph and the Terrible Troglodyte"; and the Nimble Nymph (described as "a Nymph of the Sea, who also visits the land--a nymphibious young lady") was played by Miss Hughes. The puns were prolific, and so were the parodies, the best of which are written in caricature of the absurd English translations in the operatic "books of the play." Here, for example, is a setting of the trio in "Trovatore"--"Il tuo sangue":--

_Polyphemus._ With you, oh, sanguine, I'd share your 'art, oh! 'Twould be a stinger, ho! if no go. (_As to her_) Dear! (_as to himself_) Oh, folly! be calm, oh! I'm misty!

(_Holding his hands over his bursting heart--operatically singing_).

Eh, pooh, we've here a lump, oh! (_alluding to his heart_). No, eh, pooh, we've 'ere a Lump, oh no. Ah! de gal, oh, so de gal, oh, so coy, press 'art to (_enraptured_) And it may then end in no go! (_with a tinge of sadness_). And it may then end in no go! I'm a gent, oh, over-misty (_with his hand to his heart_), Cease of her to be fond, ah, no! No! fond! ah! no! Ah! etc.

_Phyllis._ {Come, ah! come, will you o-ver-awe, eh? (_fiercely_). _Galatea._ {Come, ah! come, will you o-ver-awe me? (_distractedly_).

_Phyllis._ {You'll ar-ray, ah! wi' Pol trudge, oh![46] (_fiercely_). _Galatea._ {You'll ar-ray, ah! wi' Pol trudge, oh! (_distractedly_).

_Phyllis._ {Veep! ye'll ne'er go to rest o' shore, eh! (_fiercely_). _Galatea._ {Veep! we'll ne'er go to rest o' shore, eh? (_distractedly_).

_Phyllis._ {Gay! tomb! ah! one full! no beau! (_wildly and demoniacally_). _Galatea._ {Gay! tomb! ah! one full! no beau! (_wildly and distractedly_).

[46] This, says Mr. Burnand in a note, is the poetic for "You'll get on your bonnet and accompany Polyphemus."

Six years after the production of Mr. Burnand's piece, Mr. T. F. Plowman brought out at Oxford "a piece of extravagance," to which he gave the name of "A Very New Edition of Acis and Galatea, or the Beau! the Belle! and the Blacksmith!"

Of Meyerbeer's operas three have been burlesqued in England--"Dinorah," "L'Africaine" and "Robert le Diable." The first of these was parodied in "Dinorah under Difficulties," a burlesque by William Brough, which dates back as far as 1859 (at the Adelphi). "L'Africaine" was handled by Mr. Burnand six years later at the Strand. Three years more, and "Robert le Diable" was being travestied at the Gaiety by Mr. Gilbert, under the title of "Robert the Devil, or the Nun, the Dun, and the Sun of a Gun."[47] This last is on the old lines of "palmy-day" burlesque, and has not much in it that is characteristically Gilbertian. The lyrics are written chiefly to operatic airs, and there is no room, therefore, for rhythmical invention. In the dialogue, however, one comes across an occasional passage which strikes one as quite Gilbertian in its cynicism. Take, for example, these lines from the scene in which fun is made of the Tussaud "Chamber of Horrors":--

[47] In this Miss Farren, as Robert, was supported by Miss Constance Loseby as Raimbault, Miss Emily Fowler as Alice, Miss Annie Tremaine as Prince of Granada, and Joseph Eldred as Gobetto.

_Bertram._ These are all statues, raised from time to time To people who're remarkable for crime.

_Robert._ But if their wicked deeds could so unnerve one, Why give them statues?

_Bert._ 'Cause they don't deserve one. That's our strict rule--a rule we never garble-- Good deeds we write in sand, bad deeds in marble.

Some of the puns in the piece are worth recording. Thus, Alice says of a porter, to whom half a crown has been given:--

He'll spend it all upon his favourite wets-- He tipsy gets with all the _tips he gets_.

Again, Gobetto says of Robert:--

He's smoking to a pretty tune, I'll bet, oh!

_Prince._ That pretty tune must be "Il Cigaretto."

Gobetto says to Robert:--

We saw you through the window, pouring fizz in!

_Robert._ I liked the wines, but didn't like the _quizzin_.

Again:--

_Alice._ Why, Robert, how you've changed in speech and tone! Your forehead, once so smooth, now bears a frown on it; As for your mouth, 'tis evident you're down in it!

_Robert._ Yes, though I'm young, it's plain to all who con it, Down _in_ the mouth before I've down _upon_ it!

Weber's "Der Freischutz" has been travestied both by Mr. Burnand and by H. J. Byron, both productions taking place in 1866, within two days of each other--the one at the Strand, and the other at the Prince of Wales's. Mr. Reece is responsible for a burlesque of Flotow's "Martha," performed at the Gaiety in 1873, with Miss Constance Loseby, Miss Rachel Sanger, Mr. Lionel Brough, and Mr. Aynsley Cook in the leading parts.

Wagnerian "music-drama" has more than once been desecrated on the burlesque stage. First of all there came, at the Royalty in 1869, the "Flying Dutchman" of William Brough; then Messrs. Green and Swanborough brought out at the Strand, in 1876, "The Flying Dutchman" (with M. Marius and Miss Lottie Venne); and the "Little Lohengrin" of Mr. Bowyer saw the light in 1884 at the Holborn Theatre.

So much for the German school. Of the French composers, Auber has had more pieces travestied in this country than has any one of his fellows. There is "Masaniello," for instance, and "Fra Diavolo," and "Les Diamans de la Couronne." "Masaniello, or the Fish 'oman of Naples," was the title given by Robert B. Brough to the "fish tale, in one act," which he wrote for the Olympic in 1857. He had, for the impersonator of his hero, Robson, whose presence in the cast suggested to Mrs. Wigan the addition to the mad scene of sundry indications of the actor's former successes at the Olympic. The result was very successful. Masaniello came on, crying--

My lord, the Earl of Hammersmith is taken! Stop! That's in _Hamlet_! I'm Masaniello! To be or not to was--that's in _Othello_, Translated into Irish--for Ristori. Pop goes the Weasel--that's from _Trovatore_.

He then breaks off into a portion of the dagger dance from "Macbeth Travestie," following this up with a scrap from Italian opera and part of the hornpipe in "The Yellow Dwarf." Then Borella says:--

You are our chief! Do you not know me, sir?

_Mas._ Excellent well! You are a fishmonger! And I'm your chieftain.

_Pietro._ Are you not, my lad?

_Mas._ Ay, every inch a King-fisher--not bad! (_chuckles_). The monarch of the deep--my lord of scales; Here's a discovery--I'm Prince of Whales!... Think not to pierce this hide of Indian rubber (_weeps_). A whale! Oh yes! A whale of tears! All blubber!

_Suzanna._ Oh! this side-piercing sight!

_Mas._ I'm very limp-- And small--and flabby! Hang it! I'm a shrimp!

Then followed a song, in parody of "I'm Afloat":--

I'm a shrimp! I'm a shrimp, of diminutive size: Inspect my antennæ, and look at my eyes; I'm a natural syphon, when dipped in a cup, For I drain the contents to the latest drop up. I care not for craw-fish, I heed not the prawn, From a flavour especial my fame has been drawn; Nor e'en to the crab or the lobster I'll yield, When I'm properly cook'd and efficiently peel'd. Quick! quick! pile your coals--let your saucepan be deep! For the weather is warm, and I'm not sure to keep; Off, off with my head--split my shell into three-- I'm a shrimp! I'm a shrimp--to be eaten with tea.

After this, Robson was wont to introduce a bit of "business" from "The Discreet Princess," ending with a ditty from the "Medea" burlesque. The travestie of the pantomime-action of the dumb girl Fenella was naturally another feature of Brough's work, which had the usual supply of puns, and, altogether, more than the usual amount of literary and dramatic merit. The little travestie, called "Masse-en-Yell-Oh," written by Messrs. Harry Paulton and Mostyn Tedde for the Comedy in 1886, was an unpretending piece of work, not challenging comparison with its predecessor.

Auber's "Fra Diavolo" was another of the operatic originals on which H. J. Byron based his comic fancies. He wrote, to begin with, "Fra Diavolo, or the Beauty and the Brigands," first seen at the Strand in 1858; and then, twenty years after, "Young Fra Diavolo," which made its appearance at the Gaiety. "Les Diamans de la Couronne" fell to the lot of Mr. Reece, who, in 1875, prepared for the Holborn Theatre the piece entitled "The Half-crown Diamonds," a revised edition of which found its way to the stage of the Imperial Theatre just five years later.

Hérold's "Zampa" was burlesqued by Mr. T. F. Plowman at the Court in 1872, and by Mr. J. McArdle for the provincial stage in 1876. The "Mignon" of M. Thomas has also been transmogrified into the "Merry Mignon" of Mr. Wilton Jones (1882). The "Carmen" of Georges Bizet has had its mirthful side portrayed in no fewer than four comic pieces--the "Carmen, or Sold for a Song" of Mr. Reece (Folly, 1879); the "Cruel Carmen" of Mr. Wilton Jones (1880); the "Little Carmen" of Mr. Alfred Murray (Globe, 1884); and the "Carmen Up to Data" of Messrs. Sims and Pettitt (Gaiety, 1890). The Carmen of the first of these productions was Miss Lydia Thompson,--of the last, Miss Florence St. John, a charming vocalist, gifted with the true _vis comica_.

But the most popular, by a long way, of all French operas, for purposes of burlesque, has been the "Faust" of Gounod. Of the many travesties of this, or of the story embodied in it, the earliest was that of Halford, brought out at the Olympic in 1854. This was followed in 1857 by a piece called "Alonzo the Brave," written by Mr. Burnand for performance by University amateurs at Cambridge, and mingling the story of Alonzo, as told in the ballad, with that of Faust, in a fashion effective, if a little puzzling. In this piece of extravagance (in which, by the way, Mr. Burnand played Mephistopheles), Imogene is the heroine, taking the place of Marguerite in the affections of Faust. For a while, in the absence of Alonzo, she yields to the snares of the tempter; but, in the end, her first sweetheart appears to her as his own ghost, her inconstancy is forgiven, and Faust retires from the scene.

Seven years later Mr. Burnand wrote a burlesque called "Faust and Marguerite" for the St. James's. He had Ashley for his Faust, Charles Mathews and Mrs. Charles Mathews for his Mephistopheles and Marguerite, H. J. Montague for his Valentine, and "Johnny" Clarke for his Martha. In this instance he followed the story of the opera pretty closely till near the end, when Faust was sued for breach of promise of marriage, and escaped the clutches of Mephistopheles only by consenting to pair off with Martha! A visit to a music-hall formed part of the action, and gave occasion for some pointed lines. Said Faust:--

I'm saddened by your modern comic singing;

and Mephistopheles went on to describe the scene:--

There sat the draper's clerk, who wildly loves The tenth-rate _prima donna_ in cleaned gloves; The would-be swell, who thinks it mighty grand To shake the comic singer by the hand; Who pays for his amusement through the nose, And stands not on the order of his "goes." He thinks the dark girls dressed in blue first-raters, And is familiar with the seedy waiters; He sips his sling or takes some sort of toddy, And encores everything and everybody.

Marguerite says at one point--

That _circled orb_, you think, 's the moon; it ain't: We know 'tis but a _circle daub_ of paint.

And she remarks elsewhere that

The minnow is the _minnow_-mum of fishes.

Faust says, in one place--

Our _prima donna_, sir, has gone, I guess, To make herself _primmer_ and to _don her_ dress.

There is a diverting parody on "My Mother":--

Who guided you o'er lake and fell, Who told you all there was to tell, Ne'er missed a place, but showed it well?

Your Murray!

In 1869 Mr. Burnand was to the fore again with "Very Little Faust and More Marguerite," which was played at the Charing Cross Theatre (as the building was then called). A few years later--in 1877--H. J. Byron entered the field with "Little Doctor Faust," in which he had for interpreters the Gaiety artists, headed by Miss Farren and Mr. Edward Terry. Later still--in 1885--came a provincial writer with "Faust in Forty Minutes." In 1886 we had at the Royalty a piece called "Mephisto," of which the only characteristic feature was an imitation of Mr. Irving by Mr. E. J. Henley, clever in its way, but not to be compared for sustained truthfulness to the performance given by Mr. H. E. Dixey in "Adonis" (at the Gaiety) a week or two previously. In 1886, also, Mr. Burnand brought out at Toole's--with Mr. Toole as Mephistopheles (_à la_ Irving)--"Faust and Loose"; and, two years after, we had at the Gaiety the "Faust up to Date" of Messrs. G. R. Sims and Henry Pettitt, of which more hereafter. A notable fact about "Faust and Loose" is the appearance on the stage, for the first time, of Marguerite's mother--a lady unaccountably neglected by all previous writers, serious or otherwise! In the burlesque she thus introduces herself:--

My name it is---- Really, I can't state it clearly; But I'll observe, merely, That I'm not to blame. To save further bother, I'm Margaret's mother, And, as I've no other, Why, that is my name.

They can't do without me, The play's all about me, They flout me, they scout me; Oh! I call it mean! Each version where Ma is, In London or Paris, Makes me Mrs. Harris, Much talked of, not seen.

I'm griping and grasping, I'm snoring, I'm gasping, With fear my voice rasping Miss Marguerite fills. They speak thus behind me-- You'll speak as you find me-- But all have maligned me, From Goethe to Wills!

English serious opera has not often fallen a prey to the untender mercies of the parodist. Balfe and Vincent Wallace alone have been victimised in that way--Balfe through his "Bohemian Girl" and "Rose of Castile"; Wallace through his "Maritana." The "Bohemian Girl" has taken four different shapes on the burlesque boards. In 1851, as transmogrified by the Brothers Brough, she figured at the Haymarket as "Arline." In 1864, under the auspices of Messrs. Best and Bellingham, she appeared at Sadler's Wells under the same designation. At the command of Mr. W. S. Gilbert she posed at the Royalty in 1868 as "The Merry Zingara." In 1877, as portrayed by H. J. Byron at the Opéra Comique and Gaiety, she appeared as "The Bohemian Gy-url." For his Arline Mr. Gilbert had Miss "Patty" Oliver; for his Gipsy Queen, Miss Charlotte Saunders; for his Count Arnheim, Fred Dewar; and for his Devilshoof, Danvers. Byron's piece was interpreted by the Gaiety Company. "The Rose of Castile," as treated by Mr. Conway Edwardes, was seen in 1872 at the Brighton Theatre as "The Rows of Castile." "Maritana," of course, was the origin and basis of Mr. Burnand's "Mary Turner" (Holborn Theatre, 1867), as well as of Byron's "Little Don Cæsar de Bazan" (Gaiety, 1876), in which Mr. Terry was such an entertaining King Charles.

IX.

BURLESQUE OF FICTION AND SONG.

The writers of stage travestie have gone less to fiction for subject-matter than might have been expected. Half a dozen romances previous to Scott, half a dozen of Scott's own stories, about the same number of modern novels, and still fewer foreign masterpieces--these represent the sources of all the most important of the burlesques which have been based upon invented prose narrative.

The earliest of the tales which have been thus dealt with is "Robinson Crusoe." Of this time-honoured story, the first whimsical treatment was that which took the shape of a piece called "Crusoe the Second, or the Shipwrecked Milliners," presented at the Lyceum in 1847. This was written by Stocqueler, and had for interpreters Mr. and Mrs. Keeley, with Alfred Wigan (as Crusoe). It was followed, in 1860, at the Princess's, by the "Robinson Crusoe" of H. J. Byron. Seven years later, no fewer than six writers joined in the production of a perversion of Defoe's tale, brought out at the Haymarket in 1867, and bearing the names of H. J. Byron, W. S. Gilbert, T. Hood, jun., H. S. Leigh, W. J. Prowse, and Arthur Sketchley. In this (which was given at a _matinée_ for the benefit of the family of Paul Gray, the artist) the parts were all sustained by well-known men of art and letters. After this there came, in 1876, at the Folly, the "Robinson Crusoe" of Mr. H. B. Farnie,[48] which, in its turn, was followed, just ten years later, by yet another arrangement of the story, in which Mr. Farnie had the co-operation of Mr. Reece.

[48] With Miss Lydia Thompson as Robinson, Mr. Lionel Brough as Jim Cocks, and Mr. Willie Edouin as Man Friday.

To the Adelphi, in 1846, belongs an "extra extravagant extravaganza," founded by Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett and Mark Lemon on the "Peter Wilkins" of Robert Paltock (first printed in 1750). This burlesque had for its full title--"Peter Wilkins, or the Loadstone Rock and the Flying Indians," and had for its chief interpreters--Miss Woolgar as the hero, Paul Bedford as Jack Adams, and Miss E. Chaplin as Youriwkee. Dr. Johnson's "Rasselas" attracted the attention of William Brough, and was made, in 1862, the foundation of a burlesque produced at the Haymarket.

In 1765 Horace Walpole published his mediæval imagining, "The Castle of Otranto," by which so many of us have in our youth been thrilled. In 1848 Gilbert Abbott a'Beckett set himself to make fun of its singularities, and the result was a very brightly written piece, enacted at the Haymarket.[49] In this, Manfred's son Conrad is found imprisoned under the gigantic helmet of Alphonso, and the distracted father at once begins to give way to comic word-splitting:--

[49] With Keeley as Manfred, Bland as the Marquis Vincenza, Miss P. Horton as Theodore, Miss Reynolds as Isabella, and Mrs. W. Clifford as Hippolita.

If he's beneath that hat, His bier, by this time, must be precious flat! I'll not believe it! no, my life upon it! No one would dare my Conrad thus to bonnet. But stay!--has anybody got a lever, To give a lift to this gigantic beaver? (_The helmet is raised at the back; Manfred looks under it._) Alas! he speaks the truth--my son lies low, Poor little chap, under this great _chapeau_. My. Conrad gone!--This is a sad disaster, The die is cast by this unlucky castor! Can no one tell me how or whence it came? Is there no ticket with the hatter's name? If I knew grief before, this hat has capped it,-- My boy, crush'd 'neath this hated nap, has napped it!

In the opening scene, Hippolita, Conrad's mother, ventures to suggest to Manfred that the boy is not of marriageable age, sixteen summers not having yet passed o'er his head:--

_Man._ Time flies, you know; thro' life one quickly flings One's sixteen summersets, after sixteen springs.

_Hip._ 'Tis my maternal tenderness that speaks: As yet no whiskery down adorns his cheeks.

_Man._ I'll hear no more! talk not of down to me-- The boy's as downy as a boy need be.

In the year following the publication of "The Castle of Otranto," the "Vicar of Wakefield" was given to the world. It appears to have escaped travestie until 1885, when--thinking more, no doubt, of Mr. Wills's "Olivia" than of Goldsmith's _chef d'oeuvre_--Messrs. Stephens and Yardley brought out at the Gaiety "The Vicar of Wideawakefield," in which Mr. Arthur Roberts and Miss Laura Linden sought, not unsuccessfully, to reproduce and heighten some of the artistic peculiarities of Mr. Irving and Miss Ellen Terry. Mrs. Shelley's "Frankenstein," published in 1818, received its first dramatic _reductio ad absurdum_ in 1849, when the Brothers Brough made it the subject of a burlesque;--its second in 1887, when Messrs. "Richard Henry" turned out at the Gaiety a travestie, of which I shall have something to say in my next chapter. In the Broughs' version Wright was Frankenstein and Paul Bedford the Monster, and much fun was made out of the finishing touches which Frankenstein gave to his work. "O." Smith, Miss Woolgar, and Miss Chaplin were also in the cast.

Sir Walter Scott's novels have obtained a fair amount of notice from the comic dramatists. "Ivanhoe," for example, has exercised the humorous powers of three--of Robert Brough (at the Haymarket in 1850), of H. J. Byron (at the Strand in 1862), and of T. F. Plowman (at the Court in 1871). Byron (who called his work "Ivanhoe in accordance with the Spirit of the Times"[50]) had the aid of Miss Charlotte Saunders as his Wilfred, of Charles Rice as his Brian de Bois-Guilbert, of "Johnny" Clarke as his Isaac of York, of Miss Eleanor Bufton as his Black Knight, of Miss Swanborough as Rowena, of Jenny Rogers as his Rebecca, and of Miss Polly Marshall, Miss Fanny Hughes, and Poynter in other parts. In the provinces he was his own Isaac of York.

[50] This burlesque has been used, during the present year, as the foundation for a travestie played by the Cambridge Amateur Dramatic Company, under the title of "Ivanhoe à la Carte" (in allusion to Mr. D'Oyly Carte's production of Sir Arthur Sullivan's "Ivanhoe"). To this adaptation, it is said, new lyrics were contributed by Messrs. J. K. Stephen and R. C. Lehmann.

"Isaac of York," by the way, was the title given by Mr. Plowman to his effort, which had a good deal of ingenuity and "go." Here, for example, is an extract from the scene at the banquet at which Cedric entertains his guests. Ivanhoe is soliloquising aside, and his utterances are interrupted by the demands of the _personæ_ sitting at table:--

_Ivanhoe_ (_soliloquising aside_). 'Tis strange once more my native boards to tread, Beneath the roof where I was born and----

_Rowena._ _Bread!_

_Ivan._ If she should recognise me, she'd be flustered. My utmost self-possession must be----

_Rebecca._ _Mustard!_

_Ivan._ She's lovelier than ever. Happy fate, Her beauteous face once more to contem----

_Isaac._ _Plate!_

_Ivan._ That scamp, Sir B., I'll challenge--that's quite clear, And (if I can) despatch him to his----

_Cedric._ _Beer!_

_Ivan._ I'll meet him boldly with my----

_Isaac._ _Knife and fork!_

_Ivan._ And fight till one of us is dead as----

_Sir Brian._ _Pork!_

_Ivan._ When Richard comes he'll stop such idle praters, These plottings Normans and base agi----

_Isaac._ _Taters!_

_Ivan._ He'll make 'em in their knavish doings halt; His action will be battery and as----

_Reb._ _Salt!_

_Ivan._ Out of his land he'll soon make each a stepper, When he returns, by Jove, he'll give 'em----

_Isaac._ _Pepper!_

In another scene Isaac gives vent to a piece of mock-heroic execration directed against Brian de Bois-Guilbert:--

Avenge me, then, ye fates, I do implore. May he, like me, be martyr to lumbag_er_, Tic-doloreux, sciatica, and ag_er_, Sore-throats, neuralgia, hooping-cough, and sneezing, Rheumatics, asthma, colds, and bronchial wheezings. And while the north-east wind doth round him blow, Ye clouds, hail, mizzle, drizzle, sleet, and snow; Rain rakes and pitchforks, kittens, cats and dogs, While down his throat pour vapours, mists, and fogs. May broken chilblains ever stud his toes, May icicles hang pendent from his nose, May winter's cold his shaving-water freeze, May he be stopped whene'er he's going to sneeze. And when appalled you loudly call for helps, May palsies seize you----

_Sir B._ Oh, shade of Mr. Phelps![51]

[51] Mr. Plowman had Mr. Righton for his Isaac, Miss Kate Bishop for his Ivanhoe, Miss Nelly Bromley for his Rowena, Miss Oliver for his Rebecca, Mr. Alfred Bishop for his Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and Mlle. Cornélie D'Anka for his Richard Coeur-de-Lion.

Next to "Ivanhoe" in popularity for travestie we may place "Rob Roy." Mr. Sydney French took it in hand at the Marylebone in 1867, and Mr. William Lowe gave it a very Scotch rendering, in 1880, under the title of "Mr. Robert Roye, Hielan Helen his Wife, and Dougal the Dodger." But the "standard" burlesque on the subject is, of course, Mr. Burnand's "Robbing Roy" (Gaiety, 1879), in which Mr. Terry was such a diverting "Roy," with Miss Farren as Francis, Miss Vaughan as Diana, and Mr. Royce as an admirable Dougal. Of the "Bride of Lammermoor" there have been two burlesque versions--Oxberry's, at the Strand in 1848; and H. J. Byron's, at the Prince of Wales's in 1865. "Kenilworth" has been similarly honoured. There was the piece brought out at the Strand in 1858 by Andrew Halliday and a collaborator, and there was that which Messrs. Reece and Farnie contributed to the Avenue Theatre in 1885. "Guy Mannering" has engaged the attention of Mr. Burnand: we can all remember his "Here's another Guy Mannering," brought out at the Vaudeville in 1874. For the solitary travestie of "The Talisman," the late J. F. M'Ardle is responsible. It was first played at Liverpool in the year last named.

Lord Lytton's novels and romances have been ridiculed on the stage very much less frequently than have his dramas. "The Very Last Days of Pompeii," by Mr. Reece, and "The Last of the Barons," by Mr. Du Terreaux, are, so far as I know, the only stage works in which his prose fiction has been perverted. The former was seen at the Vaudeville in 1872, and the latter at the Strand in the same year. In "The Last of the Barons," Atkins was the Kingmaker, Mr. Edward Terry portraying Edward IV. as a great dandy, and endowing him with an amusing lisp.

When we turn to the stories of more recent times, we think at once of the "No Thoroughfare" of Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins, and of the "Foul Play" of Charles Reade and Dion Boucicault, as having suffered at the hands of the irreverent scribes. The former romance suggested to Hazlewood junior his "No Thorough-fair beyond Highbury, or the Maid, the Mother, and the Malicious Mountaineer." This was in 1868; and in the following year the elder George Grossmith emulated Hazlewood's example at the Victoria Theatre. "Foul Play" was parodied by Mr. Burnand, not only in the pages of _Punch_, but in "Fowl Play, or a Story of Chikkin Hazard," produced at the New Queers in 1868.[52] Of the bright writing in this "book," no better specimen could well be furnished than the song which Wylie sings in description of the scuttling of the _Proserpine_. This I give in full:--

[52] In this piece Mr. Toole was the Robert Penfold, Mr. Lionel Brough the Joseph Wylie, Mr. Gaston Murray the General Rollingstone, Mr. Wyndham the Arthur Waddles, and Miss Ellen Farren (then in her novitiate) the Nancy Rouse.

I'm a werry wicked cove, with my one, two, three _Characters_ in the history as follars Of a sickly gal and me, and a missionary_ee_, In a choker white and nobby pair o' collars. The _Proserpine_ an' guns Weighed such a lot of tuns, And I was the mate and the butler, And as I wanted funs You gave two thousand puns To me to go below, and so to scuttle her.

_Both._ {He's} a werry wicked cove, with {his} one, two, {I'm} {my} three Cha_rac_ters in the history as follars; Of the sickly girl and {he} and the missionary_ee_, {me} In a choker white and nobby pair of collars.

There was copper there and gold, both o' yours not mine, 'Twas a werry awful risk, but I ran 'un; And the Copper, labelled Gold, went aboard the _Proserpine_ And the Gold, labelled Copper, on the _Shannon_. Oh, it went down like a line, On board the _Proserpine_, And it was not my little game to stop'er, And the gold comes safe in the _Shannon_ ship, While you gets the walue for the copper.

The _Proserpine_ went down in a one, two, three, Which she did to the werry bottom; They called out for the boats, and the ropes, and floats, But couldn't get 'em cos I'd _got_ 'em. So they got a boat and sail, As wouldn't stand a gale, And the lady and the gent jumps _in_ her, And the missionary_ee_ Took a pound of tea, But they hadn't got no grub for their dinner.

_Both._ {I'm} a very wicked cove, with my one, two, three, {You're} Which is a quotation from Cocker; But I mourns for that Gal and the Missionaryee Which is both gone down to Davy Jones's Locker.

Among other recent fictions which have obtained the distinction of stage travestie may be named "Lady Audley's Secret," "Little Lord Fauntleroy," and "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." In the first of these instances H. J. Byron was the operator--the scene, the St. James's Theatre in 1863. Mrs. Burnett's pretty conception was tortured into "The Other Little Lord Fondleboy" (1888), and Mr. Stevenson's weird invention into "The Real Case of Hide and Seekyll" (Royalty, 1888), for which the younger George Grossmith must bear the blame.

The literature of dramatic parody does not owe much to foreign fiction. Farnie gave us "Little Gil Bias" at the Princess's in 1870, and in the same year Mr. Arthur Wood produced at the Olympic a comic paraphrase of "Paul and Virginia." It was in 1870, too, that Messrs. Eldred and Paulton turned out, at Liverpool, "The Gay Musketeers," which was followed at the Strand in 1871 by "The Three Musket-Dears" of Messrs. J. and H. Paulton. Of the "Monte Cristo Junior" of Messrs. "Richard Henry" I shall have something to say anon.

Dividing Song for the moment into Poem and Ballad, we note that the poems of Lord Byron have been the inspiring cause of at least four notable burlesques. His lordship's "Don Juan" suggested the "Beautiful Haidee" of H. J. Byron (1863) and the "Don Juan Junior" of the "Brothers Prendergast" (1880); while his "Corsair" is the basis of William Brough's "Conrad and Medora" (Lyceum, 1856), and his "Bride of Abydos" prompted the piece with the same title which H. J. Byron wrote for the Strand Theatre. In "Conrad and Medora" Miss Marie Wilton was "the Little Fairy at the Bottom of the Sea," the title-parts being given to Miss Woolgar and Mrs. Charles Dillon, and that of Birbanto to Mr. Toole. The Bride of Abydos--Zuleika--had Miss Oliver for her representative.

With Byron it seems natural to associate his friend Tom Moore, whose "Lalla Rookh" has had exceptional favour with the parodists. Four of these have been fascinated by her charms--Mr. J. T. Denny in 1885, Mr. Horace Lennard in the previous year, Vincent Amcotts in 1866, and last, but not least, William Brough (at the Lyceum) in 1857. It was to be expected that, when travestying Moore, Brough should parody "The Minstrel Boy," and so we have from him the following lines, sung by Miss Woolgar as Feramorz:--

The minstrel boy through the town is known, In each quiet street you'll find him, With his master's organ--it is ne'er his own, And his monkey led behind him. "Straw laid down!" cries the minstrel boy, "Some sick man here needs quiet; 'Bobbin' around' will this house annoy, At any rate, I'll try it!"

The minstrel grinds, and his victims pay;-- To his claims he's forced compliance! To the poet's study then he takes his way-- To the men of art and science. And cries, "My friends, in vain you'd toil At books, at pen, or easel; One roving vagabond your work shall spoil,"-- He plays "Pop goes the Weasel."

Elsewhere, Namouna, the Peri, gave utterance to the following reflections on the levelling power of love[53]:--

[53] Reminding one of H. J. Byron's couplet:--

Love levels all--it elevates the clown, And often brings the fattest people down.

Love makes all equal--scorns of rank the rules; Makes kings and beggars equal--equal fools. Love brings (distinctions overboard all pitchin') The low-born peeler to the grandee's kitchen; Makes the proud heiress of paternal acres Smile kindly on the young man from the baker's. Kings will forget their state at love's dictation, Cabmen their rank, and railway-guards their station. Love makes the housemaid careless--masters wroth, And makes too many cooks to spoil their broth.

In this piece Mrs. Charles Dillon was the Lalla Rookh, and Mr. Toole represented "a fabulous personage, not found in the poem," called Khorsanbad.

One, at least, of our burlesque writers--Mr. Gilbert Arthur a'Beckett--has had the courage to tackle a poem of Coleridge; to wit, his "Christabel," from which, however, Mr. A'Beckett derived only certain suggestions for his work. In his "Christabel, or the Bard Bewitched," represented at the Court in 1872, the Bard, Bracy, was played by Mr. Righton, who made a special feature of a travestie of Mr. Irving in "The Bells." He pretended that he had murdered a muffin-man, and that, consuming all he could of the muffins left in the man's basket, he had deposited the remainder in the area. Miss Nelly Bromley was the Christabel.

Scott's "Lady of the Lake" gave Mr. Reece the idea for a burlesque performed at the Royalty in 1866. In the same year Andrew Halliday brought out at the Adelphi a comic piece, happily entitled "The Mountain Dhu, or the Knight, the Lady, and the Lake." Mr. Toole was the impersonator of the Mountain Dhu, Paul Bedford the Douglas, Miss Hughes the Malcolm Graeme, Miss Woolgar (Mrs. Mellon) the Fitzjames, and Miss Furtado the Lady of the Lake. "The Lady of the Lane" was the title given by H. J. Byron to the travestie from his pen which saw the light at the Strand in 1872. In this case Mr. Edward Terry was the Roderick and Miss Kate Bishop the Ellen, Mrs. Raymond making a great hit as the demented Blanche.

Our present Laureate provoked in 1870 the satiric powers of Mr. W. S. Gilbert, whose "Princess," played at the Olympic, was described by the author as "a whimsical allegory," as well as "a respectful perversion of Mr. Tennyson's poem."[54] In this production Mr. Gilbert wrote his lyrics to the melodies of popular airs, after the manner of the time. The major portion of the travestie is familiar to present-day audiences as having formed, in the main, the text of "Princess Ida," for which Sir Arthur Sullivan composed such charming music. Nevertheless, I cannot refrain from quoting, as a happy specimen of Mr. Gilbert's later manner in burlesque,[55] the speech addressed by the Princess to her disciples--a speech marked by agreeable _naïvétè_ and happy mock-heroics:--

[54] Mr. David Fisher was the King Hildebrand, and Miss Maria Simpson (Mrs. W. H. Liston), his son Prince Hilarion; Miss Augusta Thomson being the Cyril, Miss Mattie Reinhardt the Princess Ida, Miss Fanny Addison the Lady Psyche, Mrs. Poynter the Lady Blanche, and Miss Patti Josephs the Melissa.

[55] In a sense, all Mr. Gilbert's comic operas are burlesques, for they are full of travestie, especially of the conventionalities of grand opera and melodrama. At the same time, they cannot be called burlesques in the everyday, theatrical sense of the term.

In mathematics Woman leads the way! The narrow-minded pedant still believes That two and two make four! Why, we can prove-- We women, household drudges as we are-- That two and two make five--or three--or seven-- Or five-and-twenty, as the case demands!... Diplomacy? The wily diplomate Is absolutely helpless in our hands: He wheedles monarchs--Woman wheedles him! Logic? Why, tyrant man himself admits It's waste of time to argue with a woman! Then we excel in social qualities-- Though man professes that he holds our sex In utter scorn, I'll undertake to say If you could read the secrets of his heart, He'd rather be alone with one of you Than with five hundred of his fellow-men! In all things we excel. Believing this, Five hundred maidens here have sworn to place Their foot upon his neck. If we succeed, We'll treat him better than he treated us; But if we fail--oh, then let hope fail too! Let no one care one penny how she looks! Let red be worn with yellow--blue with green, Crimson with scarlet--violet with blue! Let all your things misfit, and you yourselves At inconvenient moments come undone! Let hair-pins lose their virtue; let the hook Disdain the fascination of the eye,-- The bashful button modestly evade The soft embraces of the buttonhole! Let old associations all dissolve, Let Swan secede from Edgar--Grant from Gask, Sewell from Cross--Lewis from Allenby-- In other words, let Chaos come again!

Into the region of the Ballad the comic playwrights have made comparatively few incursions. "The Babes in the Wood," "Lord Bateman," "Billy Taylor," "Villikins and his Dinah," and "Lord Lovel,"--these are the stories which have been most in favour with burlesque purveyors. R. J. Byron took up the first-named subject in 1859, when the company at the Adelphi (where the piece was produced) included Miss Woolgar (Sir Rowland Macassar), Mr. Toole and Miss Kate Kelly (the Babes), Paul Bedford (the First Ruffian), and Mrs. Billington (the Lady Macassar). Then, in 1877, there came a provincial version by Messrs. G. L. Gordon and G. W. Anson; and, next, in 1884, at Toole's Theatre, the "Babes" of Mr. Harry Paulton, in which Mr. Edouin and Miss Atherton were the central figures. The first travestie of "Lord Bateman" was made by Charles Selby at the Strand in 1839; then there was the production by R. B. Brough in 1854 at the Adelphi; and, still later, there was the piece by H. J. Byron, at the Globe (1869). Passing over the "Billy Taylor" of Buckstone (1829), we arrive at "The Military Billy Taylor" of Mr. Burnand, which came out forty years later. It is to Mr. Burnand, also, that we owe "Villikins and his Dinah," played by amateurs at Cambridge, as well as "Lord Lovel and the Lady Nancy Bell," which he wrote for the same place and performers.

X.

THE NEW BURLESQUE.

With the year 1885 there dawned a new epoch for stage travestie in England. The old Gaiety company had broken up, Miss Farren alone remaining; and with the accession of fresh blood there came fresh methods. The manager who had succeeded Mr. Hollingshead recognised the tendencies of the times; and with "Little Jack Sheppard"--a travestie by Messrs. Stephens and Yardley of the well-known story, familiar both in fiction and in drama--a novel departure was made.

In the "palmy" days, burlesque had not, as a rule, formed the whole of an evening's entertainment. The one-act travestie had grown on occasion into two and even three acts; but, until recent years, the one act (in several scenes) had usually been deemed sufficient, the remainder of the programme being devoted to comedy or drama. The musical part of the performance had generally been made up of adaptations or reproductions of popular airs of the day--either comic songs or operatic melodies: very rarely had the music been special and original. The scenery had never been particularly remarkable; nor, save during the various _régimes_ of Vestris, had there been any special splendour in the dresses. For the most part, the old school of burlesque did not rely upon a brilliant _mise-en-scène_. In the prologue to his "Alcestis," produced just forty-one years ago, we find Talfourd expressly drawing attention to the simplicity of the stage show. Speaking of the productions at the houses of serious drama, he said:--

Plays of the greatest and the least pretence Are mounted so regardless of expense That fifty nights is scarce a run accounted-- Run! They should gallop, being so well _mounted_

But with "Alcestis" it was to be different:--

What you enjoy must be all "on the quiet." No horse will pull _our_ play up if it drag, No banners when our wit is on the flag; No great effects or new-imported dance The drooping eye will waken and entrance; ... But an old story from a classic clime, Done for the period into modern rhyme.

A very different policy was to characterise the New Burlesque. The pieces, having now become the staple of the night's amusement, were to be placed upon the boards with all possible splendour. Money was to be spent lavishly on scenery, properties and costumes. Dancing was to be a prominent feature--not the good old-fashioned "breakdowns" and the like, but choreographic interludes of real grace and ingenuity. The music was to be written specially for the productions, and pains were to be taken to secure artists who could really sing. Something had already been done in each of these directions. So long ago as 1865 Mr. Burnand's "Windsor Forest" had been fitted with wholly new music; and at the Gaiety, under Mr. Hollingshead, burlesque had grown in elaborateness year by year. Not, however, till the production of "Little Jack Sheppard," in 1885, had the elaboration been so marked and complete in all departments.

Meanwhile, how were the librettists to be affected? Clearly, they would have to give more opportunities than usual for musical and saltatory illustration; and accordingly we find the book of "Little Jack Sheppard" full of lyrics--solos, duets, quartets and choruses, all of them set to new airs by competent composers. At the same time, the authors took care not to omit the element of punning dialogue. In this respect the old traditions were to be maintained. Byron, for instance, might very well have written the lines which follow, in which the interlocutors strive to outdo one another in the recklessness of their _jeux de mots_:--

_Thames Darrell._ Wild and Uncle Roland trapped me, They caught this poor _kid napping_, and _kidnapped_ me; Put me on board a ship in half a crack.

_Winifred._ A ship! Oh, what a _blow_!

_Thames._ It was--a _smack_! When out at sea the crew set me, Thames Darrell, Afloat upon the waves within a barrel.

_Win._ In hopes the _barrel_ would turn out your _bier_.

_Thames._ But I'm _stout_-hearted and I didn't fear. I nearly died of thirst.

_Win._ Poor boy! Alas!

_Thames._ Until I caught a fish----

_Win._ What sort?

_Thames._ A _bass_. Then came the worst, which nearly proved my ruin-- A storm, a thing I can't _a-bear, a brewin'_.

_Win._ It makes me pale.

_Thames._ It made me _pale_ and _ail_. When nearly coopered I descried a sail; They did not hear me, though I loudly whooped; Within the barrel I was _inned and cooped_. _All's up_, I thought, when round they quickly brought her; That ship to me of safety was the _porter_.

"Little Jack Sheppard"--which had for its chief exponents Miss Farren, Mr. Fred Leslie (a brilliant recruit from the comic opera stage), Mr. David James (who had returned for a time to his old love), Mr. Odell, Miss Harriet Coveney, and Miss Marion Hood (who had graduated in Gilbert-Sullivan opera)--was followed at the Gaiety by "Monte Cristo Junior," in which Messrs. "Richard Henry" presented a bright and vivacious travestie of Dumas' famous fiction, greatly aided by the _chic_ of Miss Farren as the hero, and the inexhaustible humorous resource of Mr. Leslie as Noirtier. Here, for example, is a bit of the scene between these two characters in the Château d'If:--

(_Noirtier, disguised as Faria, pokes his head through the hole in the prison wall. He wears a long grey beard, and is clad in rags._)

_Dantès_ (_startled_). This is the rummiest go I e'er heard tell on!

_Noirtier._ Pray pardon my intrusion, brother felon-- I'm Seventy-Seven.

_Dantès._ You look it--and the rest!

_Noirtier_ (_with senile chuckle_). Ah! youth will always have its little jest. My _number's_ Seventy-seven: my age is more! In point of fact, I've lately turned five score: Time travels on with step that's swift, though stealthy.

_Dantès_ (_aside_). A hundred years of age! This prison's healthy, To judge by this old joker. (_aloud_) What's your name, sir? To which I'd add--and what's your little game, sir?

_Noirtier._ My name is Faria--I'm a ruined Abbé-- All through my country's conduct, which was shabby. They've kept me here since I was three years old, Because I wouldn't tell of untold gold-- Of countless coin and gems and heaps of treasure Which I'd discovered in my baby leisure-- (_chuckles_) But we will foil their schemes, and that ere long.

_Dantès_ (_aside, touching forehead significantly_). The reverend gentleman has gone quite wrong.

_Noirtier_ (_clutching Dantès wildly_). But, ah, they starve me! Hence thy strange misgiving-- For what's a parson, boy, without his living? Hast e'er a bone to give an old man squalid?

_Dantès._ Not me! They never give us nothing solid; They seem to think an appetite's unlawful: In fact, their bill of fare is fairly awful.

_Noirtier._ But now to business! You must know, fair youth, Though I in prison lie, I love the truth. Therefore---- But stay (_glancing suspiciously around_)--are we alone?

_Dantès._ Of course we are, old guy fox! (_business_).

_Noirtier._ Then now I will confess my little game.

(_Removes wig, beard, rags, etc., and appears in convict dress, with [77] conspicuously marked on breast._)

And so, behold!

_Dantès._ What! Noirtier?

_Noirtier._ The same!

Here, again, is the duet sung by the same characters in the course of the same scene:--

I.

_Dantès._ Here in this gloomy old Château d'If We don't get beer, and we don't get beef.

_Noirtier._ They never give us mutton or veal or pork, On which to exercise knife and fork.

_Dantès._ No nice spring chicken, or boiled or roast-- No ham-and-eggs, and no snipe-on-toast!

_Noirtier._ So no wonder we're rapidly growing lean On the grub served up from the prison cuisine.

(_With treadmill business_.)

_Both._ Poor prisoners we! Poor prisoners we! With skilly for breakfast and dinner and tea, And such dismal diet does not agree

_Noirtier._ With Seventy-seven!

_Dantès._ And Ninety-three!

(_Grotesque pas de deux_.)

II.

_Dantès._ Our wardrobe has long since run to seed, For _ci-devant_ swells we are sights indeed!

_Noirtier._ I shiver and shake, and the creeps I've got-- I'd give the world for a "whiskey hot!"

_Dantès._ And as in my lonely cell I lie, I think of _her_ and the by-and-by.

_Noirtier._ Don't buy or sell, or you'll come to grief, And never get out of the Chateau d'If!

_Both._ Poor prisoners we! etc. (_Dance as before._)

After "Monte Cristo Junior" there came, at the same theatre and from the pens of the same writers, a travestie of "Frankenstein," produced in 1887, with Miss Farren as the hero, and Mr. Leslie as the Monster that he fashions. Here much ingenuity was shown in the management of the pseudo-supernatural business connected with the Monster. Previous to the vivifying of the figure, Frankenstein thus soliloquised:--

_Frankenstein._ At last I am alone--now let me scan My wondrous figure fashioned like a man. All is now ready--every joint complete, And now to oil the works--and then--_toute suite_! O Science! likewise Magic! lend a hand To aid the awful project I have planned. (_Sings_) I've invented a figure Of wonderful vigour, A gentleman-help, so to speak; A chap automatic Who'll ne'er be erratic, Who'll live upon nothing a week It will fetch and will carry, And won't want to marry, Or try on the wage-raising plan; It will do all my bidding Without any kidding-- My Patent Mechanical Man. Now to my cell I'll post with due cell-erity, And do a deed that shall astound post-erity. But thrills of horror now run through my veins. What if I fail in spite of all my pains? A nameless dread doth in my bosom lurk. My scheme is good--but what if it won't work?

The Monster's first utterances were as follows:--

_Monster._ Where am I? also what--or which--or who? What is this feeling that is running through My springs--or, rather, joints?--I seem to be A comprehensive (_feeling joints_) joint-stock companee; My Veins--that's if they are veins--seem to glow---- I've muscles--yea--in quarts--I move them--so!

(_Creaks horribly all over: fiddle business in orchestra._)

Horror! I've broken something, I'm afraid! What's this material of which I'm made? It seems to be a sort of clay--combined With bits of flesh and wax--I'm well designed-- To see, to move, to speak I can contrive-- I wonder if I really am alive!

(_Sings_) If my efforts are vain and I can't speak plain, Don't laugh my attempts to scorn! For, as will be seen, I am but a machine Who doesn't yet know if he's born. I can move my feet in a style rather neat, And to waggle my jaws I contrive; I can open my mouth from north to south, I--I--wonder if I'm a-live, a-live! I wonder if I'm a-live!

In 1888 Mr. G. R. Sims and Mr. Henry Pettitt joined forces in burlesque, and the result was seen in a piece happily entitled "Faust up to Date." In this version Marguerite (Miss Florence St. John) figures first as a barmaid at an Exhibition. She is a young lady of some astuteness, though she insists upon her general ingenuousness:--

I'm a simple little maid, Of the swells I am afraid, I tell them when they're forward they must mind what they're about. I never go to balls, Or to plays or music-halls, And my venerated mother always knows when I am out. When I leave my work at night, I never think it right To talk to any gentleman I haven't seen before. But I take a 'bus or tram, Like the modest girl I am, For I know that my big brother will be waiting at the door.

Martha introduces herself thus:--

I'm Martha, and my husband's never seen; Though fifty, my complexion's seventeen. In all the versions I've one _rôle_ to play, To mind Miss Marguerite while her _frère's_ away. You ask me why she don't live with her mother, And I reply by asking you another-- Where is my husband? I oft wonder if The public know he left me in a tiff, And not a single word from him I've heerd Since Marguerite's mother also disappeared. Not that I draw conclusions--oh dear, no! The gents who wrote the opera made them go. And Goethe lets a gentleman in red Inform me briefly my old man is dead. These details show my character's _not_ shady-- I am a widow and a perfect lady.

When Valentine returns home and hears the scandal about his sister, he breaks out into the following terrific curse:--

When to the drawing-room you have to go, With arms all bare and neck extremely low, For four long hours in biting wind and snow, May you the joys of England's springtime know! Whene'er you ride, or drive a prancing pair, May the steam roller meet you everywhere! When thro' the Park you wend your homeward way, Oh, may it be a Home Rule gala day! When for a concert you have paid your gold, May Mr. Sims Reeves have a dreadful cold! May you live where, through lath-and-plaster walls, Come loud and clear the next-door baby's squalls! Your husband's mother, when you are a wife, Bring all her cats, and stay with you for life!

At the end, when Mephistopheles (Mr. E. J. Lonnen) comes to claim Faust, it turns out that Faust and Marguerite have been duly married, but have been obliged to conceal the fact because Marguerite was a ward in Chancery. Moreover, Old Faust reappears, and insists that, as it was he who signed the bond, it is he and not young Faust who ought to suffer for it.

"Faust up to Date" includes some clever songs and some excruciating puns, of which these are perhaps the most excruciating:--

_Marg._ These sapphires are the finest I have seen.

_Faust._ Ah! what I've sapphired for your sake, my queen!

_Marg._ An opal ring, they say, bad luck will be; This one I opal not do that for me.

Again:--

_Mephis._ Along the Riviera, dudes her praises sing.

_Val._ Oh, did you Riviera such a thing?

"Atalanta," the travestie by Mr. G. P. Hawtrey brought out at the Strand in 1888, was fitted with prose dialogue, much of which was very smart and amusing. The songs were numerous and well-turned, and certain details of the travestie were ingenious. Hippomenes, the hero, wins the race he runs with Atalanta, by placing in her path a brand-new "costume," of modern cut and material, which she finds it impossible not to stop for. For the rest, while possessing a decidedly "classical" flavour, "Atalanta" was, in essence, a racing burlesque, abounding in the phraseology of the turf, and introducing in the last scene counterfeit presentments of a number of well-known sportsmen.

An agreeable cynicism ran through both the talk and the lyrics, from one of which--a duet between King Schoeneus and his High Chamberlain, Lysimachus--I extract the following satire on turf _morale_:--

_Lys._ There's a time to win and a time to lose.

_Sch._ Of course, of course, of course.

_Lys._ You can make 'em safe whenever you choose--

_Sch._ By force, by force, by force.

_Lys._ Then doesn't it seem a sin and a shame To stop such a pleasant and easy game? If a horse doesn't win, why, who is to blame?

_Sch._ The horse, the horse, the horse.

* * * * *

_Lys._ If it's cleverly managed, I always think--

_Sch._ Proceed, proceed, proceed--

_Lys._ At a neat little swindle it's proper to wink.

_Sch._ Indeed, indeed, indeed! I don't understand what it's all about; But a man must be punished, I have no doubt, If he's such a fool as to get found out.

_Lys._ Agreed, agreed, agreed.

_Lys._ It's all because jockeys have played such tricks--

_Sch._ They go too far, too far.

_Lys._ That the stewards are down like a thousand of bricks--

_Sch._ They are, they are, they are. For a season or two, you'll observe with pain, They'll hunt out abuses with might and main; Then the good old times will come back again. Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!

Elsewhere, there is a diverting bit of parody suggested by the extreme cautiousness and bad grammar of some newspaper racing prophecies. Hippomenes and Atalanta are the sole competitors in the race, and the local "tipster" thus discusses their prospects:--

I have from time to time gone through the chances of the several competitors, so that to repeat what I have written is to go over very well-worn ground. Although the race is reduced to a match, it has lost none of its interest in the eyes of the public. It is a difficult race to meddle with, but the plunge must be made; I shall, therefore, give my vote to Atalanta, which, if beaten, it may be by Hippomenes.

Of "Joan of Arc," the "operatic burlesque" written by Messrs. J. L. Shine and "Adrian Ross" to music by Mr. Osmond Carr (Opéra Comique, 1891), the distinguishing feature--apart from the fact that the music is all original and all the work of one composer--is the neatness of the lyric writing, with which special pains appear to have been taken. Of Joan herself her father is made to sing as follows:--

Oh, there's nobody adepter Than our Joan, Joan, Joan! She is born to hold a sceptre On a throne, throne, throne; She's the head of all her classes, And in fervour she surpasses All the Hallelujah lasses, As they own, own, own!

Don't call her preaching dull, for It is not, not, not! She can do Salvation sulphur Hot and hot, hot, hot! She can play the drum and cymbal, With her fingers she is nimble, And the pea beneath the thimble She can spot, spot, spot.

She can tell you by your faces What you'll do, do, do; She can give you tips for races Good and new, new, new! She can cut a martial swagger, She's a dab at sword and dagger, And will fight without a stagger Till all's blue, blue, blue!

Of all the songs in the piece, however, perhaps the most vivacious is that in which De Richemont (Mr. Arthur Roberts) describes how he "went to find Emin":--

Oh, I went to find Emin Pasha, and started away for fun, With a box of weeds and a bag of beads, some tracts and a Maxim gun; My friends all said I should come back dead, but I didn't care a pin, So I ran up a bill and I made my will, and I went to find Emin! I went to find Emin, I did, I looked for him far and wide, I found him right, I found him tight, and a lot of folks beside; Away through Darkest Africa, though it cost me lots of tin, For without a doubt I'd find him out, when I went to find Emin!

Then I turned my face to a savage place, that is called Boulogne-sur-Mer, Where the natives go on _petits chevaux_ and the gay _chemin de fer_; And the girls of the tribe I won't describe, for I'm rather a modest man. They are poor, I suppose, for they're short of clothes, when they take what they call _les bains_! And they said to me, "_Oh, sapristi!_" and the men remarked, "_Sacré!_" And _vive la guerre aux pommes de terre_, and _vingt minutes d'arrêt_! _Voulez-vous du boeuf? j'ai huit! j'ai neuf!_ till they deafened me with their din, So I _parlez_'d _bon soir_ and said _au revoir_, for I had to find Emin!

* * * * *

And at last I found Emin, poor chap, in the midst of the nigger bands Who daily prowl, with horrible howl, along the Margate sands; I heard the tones of the rattling bones, and I hurried down to the beach-- Full well I know that they will not go till you give them sixpence each! Said they, "Uncle Ned, oh! he berry dead, and de banjo out ob tune! Oh! doodah, day! hear Massa play de song of de Whistling Coon! If you ain't a snob, you'll give us a bob for blacking our blooming skin"-- But I took that band to the edge of the sand, and there I dropped 'Emin!

I have not thought it necessary, in the preceding pages, to offer any apology for stage burlesque. One must regret that it sometimes lacks refinement in word and action, and that in the matter of costume it is not invariably decorous; but that we shall always have it with us, in some form or other, may be accepted as incontrovertible. So long as there is anything extravagant in literature or manners--in the way either of simplicity or of any other quality--so long will travestie find both food and scope. That is the _raison d'être_ of theatrical burlesque--that it shall satirise the exaggerated and the extreme. It does not wage war against the judicious and the moderate. As H. J. Byron once wrote of his own craft:--

Though some may scout it, ... Burlesque is like the winnowing machine: It simply blows away the husks, you know-- The goodly corn is not moved by the blow. What arrant rubbish of the clap-trap school Has vanished--thanks to pungent ridicule! What stock stage-customs, nigh to bursting goaded, With so much "blowing up" have been exploded! Had our light writers done no more than this, Their doggrel efforts scarce had been amiss.

In this defence of his calling, Byron had been anticipated by Planché, who, in one of his occasional pieces, introduced the following passage, in which Mr. and Mrs. Wigan and the representatives of Tragedy and Burlesque all figured. When Burlesque entered, Tragedy cried out--

Avaunt, and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee. Unreal mockery, hence! I can't abide thee!

_Burlesque._ Because I fling your follies in your face, And call back all the false starts of your race, Show up your shows, affect your affectation, And by such homoeopathic aggravation, Would cleanse your bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon our art--bombast and puff.

_Mr. Wigan._ Have you so good a purpose, then, in hand?

_Burlesque._ Else wherefore breathe I in dramatic land?

_Mrs. Wigan._ I thought your aim was but to make us laugh.

_Burlesque._ Those who think so but understand me half. Did not my thrice-renownèd Thomas Thumb, That mighty mite, make mouthing Fustian dumb? Is Tilburina's madness void of matter? Did great Bombastes strike no nonsense flatter? When in his words he's not one to the wise, When his fool's bolt _spares_ folly as it flies, When in his chaff there's not a grain to seize on, When in his rhyme there's not a grain of reason, His slang but slang, no point beyond the pun, Burlesque may walk, for he will cease to run.

FINIS.

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