A Book of Burlesque: Sketches of English Stage Travestie and Parody

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: —

I'm a werry wicked cove, with my one, two, threeCharacters in the history as follarsOf a sickly gal and me, and a missionaryee,In a choker white and nobby pair o' collars.The Proserpine an' gunsWeighed such a lot of tuns,And I was the mate and the butler,And as I wanted funsYou gave two thousand punsTo me to go below, and so to scuttle her.Both. {He's/I'm} a werry wicked cove, with {his/my} one, two, threeCharacters in the history as follars;Of the sickly girl and {he/me} and the missionaryee,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 ProserpineAnd 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 missionaryeeTook a pound of tea,But they hadn't got no grub for their dinner.Both. {I'm/You're} a very wicked cove, with my one, two, three,Which is a quotation from Cocker;But I mourns for that Gal and the MissionaryeeWhich 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 toilAt 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 love53: —

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 acresSmile 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: —

In mathematics Woman leads the way!The narrow-minded pedant still believesThat 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 diplomateIs absolutely helpless in our hands:He wheedles monarchs – Woman wheedles him!Logic? Why, tyrant man himself admitsIt's waste of time to argue with a woman!Then we excel in social qualities —Though man professes that he holds our sexIn utter scorn, I'll undertake to sayIf you could read the secrets of his heart,He'd rather be alone with one of youThan with five hundred of his fellow-men!In all things we excel. Believing this,Five hundred maidens here have sworn to placeTheir 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 yourselvesAt inconvenient moments come undone!Let hair-pins lose their virtue; let the hookDisdain the fascination of the eye, —The bashful button modestly evadeThe 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 pretenceAre mounted so regardless of expenseThat 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 danceThe 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 theprison 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 treasureWhich I'd discovered in my baby leisure —(chuckles) But we will foil their schemes, and that ere long.Dantès (aside, touching forehead significantly). The reverendgentleman 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: —

IDantès. Here in this gloomy old Château d'IfWe 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 leanOn 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 agreeNoirtier. With Seventy-seven!Dantès. And Ninety-three!(Grotesque pas de deux.)IIDantès. 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 scanMy 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 handTo aid the awful project I have planned.(Sings) I've invented a figureOf wonderful vigour,A gentleman-help, so to speak;A chap automaticWho'll ne'er be erratic,Who'll live upon nothing a weekIt will fetch and will carry,And won't want to marry,Or try on the wage-raising plan;It will do all my biddingWithout 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 throughMy springs – or, rather, joints? – I seem to beA 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 – combinedWith 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 machineWho 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 rightTo 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 ifThe public know he left me in a tiff,And not a single word from him I've heerdSince 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 redInform 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.