DOI issue:
March 31, 1883
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17754#0152
March 31, 1883,] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
NEW LAMPS FOR OLD.
Eves' Practical John Hollingshead’s “sacred lamp of Bur-
lesque ” occasionally requires refilling with oil, or most assuredly it
will sputter, flare, smoke, and eventually go out, leaving nothing
behind but a disagreeable vapour.
More nonsense has probably been
written about Burlesque than about
any amusement ostensibly patron-
ised by the people. It is too often
assumed that the difficult art—nay
more, the wholesome and necessary
art of courteous caricature—is one
of no literary pretension, and may
be safely fluDg as a sop to the silliest
and vainest member of the profes-
sion devoted to acting. The fallacy
of this proposition has been proved,
notwithstanding Practical John’s
periodical spars with sensitive
Critics, by a degraded estimate of
the possibilities of Burlesque, and a
growing carelessness and indiffer-
ence on the part of its interpreters.
A Gaiety play has, by inattention
to the simplest rules of dramatic
political economy, come to be
considered embodied childishness;
the Gaiety performers have too
frequently mistaken petting for
popularity.
Blue Beard in form and in colour,
in aim and in opportunity appears
to be the kind of oil that the sacred lamp required. The flickering
flame greedily swallowed it, up it started into brilliancy, and behold
the Critics and the Cynics are shaking hands, forced laughter is
exchanged for honest merriment, and the Gaiety company plumes
out its feathers, and the individual members of it have no longer
to study themselves, but the characters entrusted to them. So long
as they put earnest purpose into their work, they need never be
ashamed of their calling. Why should they be ? As their pre-
decessors in the best English school of Burlesque, they have had
Robson—clarum et venerabile nomen—a genius although a Burlesque
Actor—Marie Wilton and Miss Herbert—Comedians although
Burlesque Actresses ; engaged in the very same occupation have been
Ada Cavendish, John L. Toole, Henry Irving, W. H. Kendal
—one of the most favourite Burlesque Actors Glasgow ever had—
David James, Thomas Thorne, John Hare—he might have been
seen in petticoats at the Prince of Wales’s Theatre—and indeed all
the best Comedy Actors and Actresses of our time. For Burlesque
properly considered is not a hasty pudding of jingle and music-hall
songs, or an opportunity for smart clothes and breakdowns, but a
Wonderful get-up. “Terry
Incognita.’’
The IJulla-baloo Chamber. Arrival of the Detective.
Tunny play with point and circumstance, containing a legitimate
opening for parody and caricature. What indeed are the Gilbert
and Sullivan’s Operas but Burlesques dressed up in the fine and.
fashionable feathers of Comic Opera ? Are these Sorcerers and
Pinafores, these Pirates and Iolanthes, with their Policemen and
Soldiers, their Curates and Lord Chancellors, their love-sick Maidens
•and love-struck Guardsmen, any less Burlesque because they are set
to music by an accomplished musician who is himself a humorist in
music, instead of being decorated with the best existing and popular
music that comes to hand. Mr. George Grossmith sings patter-
songs, and so does Mr. Edward Terry, the latter having the better
of it as far as voice goes. The lyrics awarded to Miss Farren are
no_ less laughable than such as are entrusted to Mr. Barrington.
Miss Kate Vaughan might be as usefully employed as a shepherdess
or fairy as Miss Leonora Braham or Miss Marion Hood, the
Savoyards having the advantage in vocalisation, and the Gaiety in
the “poetry of motion.”
Miss E. Farren, deservedly one of the most popular Actresses on
the Stage, who, in other days, might have been—with discipline—a
Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Jordan, needs no lime-light now to empha-
sise, the fact that she is an Artist. Her singing of “ My Boy,” in
variation, suggestion, and Cockney whimsicality, is a masterpiece.
With no pathetic touch to assist her, as in Mr. Reece’s capital
street-Arab’s song, the humour of the thing is just as bright and
keen. Her performance of Blue Beard is not a confidential com-
mentary between Miss Farren and her audience, but a clever bit of
skilful burlesque acting.
Nor need Miss Vaughan lean upon her'milliner for distinction in
an Art in which she is evidently proficient. Hitherto her fanciful
attire and her grace-
ful steps have con-
stituted. her claims
as an Actress; but
now her singing of
a broken - French
song, and her swift
and short imitation
of Sara Bern-
hardt, develop a
charming fund of
happy caricature.
That excellent
comedian, Mr. E.
Terry, has hitherto
been forced to
squirm and twist
and exaggerate his
own style for lack
of literary or comic
suggestion ; but
now, as the broken-
down, impecunious father of Mrs. Blue Beard, he is as genuinely
funny as Jemmy Rogers ever was in the palmy days of the Strand.
Miss Connie Gilchrist is “ getting a big girl now,” but has lost
none of the artlessness of her childhood; necessarily a subordinate
figure, she is always a pleasant companion to her associates on the
stage. But the spirit of Blue Beard is otherwise infectious. _ How
often, under other and more depressing circumstances, the assistants
and extras have gone through their work wearily and. miserably.
Now they start into life and action ; they are aroused to intelligence,
and try, at any rate, to do their best. Even Mr. Irving could not
be offended, or Mr. Kyrle Bellew outraged at the caricature by
Mr. Henley, who cleverly, and in a few touches shows how uncon-
sciously Mr. Bellew imitates Mr. Irving ; and there is not a
“ Masher ” in the famous front row who would break his crutch with
ra?e, or disturb the symmetry of his shirt-front on account of the
reflected affectation and mirrored apathy of the pretty young Ladies
who so serenely satirise the youthful follies of an effeminate and
unrobust age. If Blue Beard sets the example, never neglected in
the days of Robson, Wilton, Rogers & Co., of making the company
act up to the play, the reaction will not have been in vain.. It is a
step in the right direction, and though much more remains to be
done, yet as matters stand all are satisfied, Company, Comedians
and Critics.
Darby and Joan of Arc. “ Arc forrard! Away! ”
Additional Verse to an Old Song.
“ They will spoil the Embankment,” says Hogg unto Smith,
“ But of course it’s no business of mine! ”
Says Smith, “ ’Twould look better without them than with,
But of course it’s no business of mine! ”
Says Percy to both, a young Percy quite per se,
“ Won’t enter the lists against Westminster’s Circe.
If Bull doesn’t kick up a shine, it’s a mercy,-—
But of course it’s no business of mine ! ”
Chorus—Of course, &c.
Our own Mrs. R. says they seem to be making a great fuss about
the Exhibition of Messrs. Sheridan and Byrne, but why they
should, when you can see all the celebrities at Madame Tussaud’s
any day for a shilling, she finds it hard to understand.
NEW LAMPS FOR OLD.
Eves' Practical John Hollingshead’s “sacred lamp of Bur-
lesque ” occasionally requires refilling with oil, or most assuredly it
will sputter, flare, smoke, and eventually go out, leaving nothing
behind but a disagreeable vapour.
More nonsense has probably been
written about Burlesque than about
any amusement ostensibly patron-
ised by the people. It is too often
assumed that the difficult art—nay
more, the wholesome and necessary
art of courteous caricature—is one
of no literary pretension, and may
be safely fluDg as a sop to the silliest
and vainest member of the profes-
sion devoted to acting. The fallacy
of this proposition has been proved,
notwithstanding Practical John’s
periodical spars with sensitive
Critics, by a degraded estimate of
the possibilities of Burlesque, and a
growing carelessness and indiffer-
ence on the part of its interpreters.
A Gaiety play has, by inattention
to the simplest rules of dramatic
political economy, come to be
considered embodied childishness;
the Gaiety performers have too
frequently mistaken petting for
popularity.
Blue Beard in form and in colour,
in aim and in opportunity appears
to be the kind of oil that the sacred lamp required. The flickering
flame greedily swallowed it, up it started into brilliancy, and behold
the Critics and the Cynics are shaking hands, forced laughter is
exchanged for honest merriment, and the Gaiety company plumes
out its feathers, and the individual members of it have no longer
to study themselves, but the characters entrusted to them. So long
as they put earnest purpose into their work, they need never be
ashamed of their calling. Why should they be ? As their pre-
decessors in the best English school of Burlesque, they have had
Robson—clarum et venerabile nomen—a genius although a Burlesque
Actor—Marie Wilton and Miss Herbert—Comedians although
Burlesque Actresses ; engaged in the very same occupation have been
Ada Cavendish, John L. Toole, Henry Irving, W. H. Kendal
—one of the most favourite Burlesque Actors Glasgow ever had—
David James, Thomas Thorne, John Hare—he might have been
seen in petticoats at the Prince of Wales’s Theatre—and indeed all
the best Comedy Actors and Actresses of our time. For Burlesque
properly considered is not a hasty pudding of jingle and music-hall
songs, or an opportunity for smart clothes and breakdowns, but a
Wonderful get-up. “Terry
Incognita.’’
The IJulla-baloo Chamber. Arrival of the Detective.
Tunny play with point and circumstance, containing a legitimate
opening for parody and caricature. What indeed are the Gilbert
and Sullivan’s Operas but Burlesques dressed up in the fine and.
fashionable feathers of Comic Opera ? Are these Sorcerers and
Pinafores, these Pirates and Iolanthes, with their Policemen and
Soldiers, their Curates and Lord Chancellors, their love-sick Maidens
•and love-struck Guardsmen, any less Burlesque because they are set
to music by an accomplished musician who is himself a humorist in
music, instead of being decorated with the best existing and popular
music that comes to hand. Mr. George Grossmith sings patter-
songs, and so does Mr. Edward Terry, the latter having the better
of it as far as voice goes. The lyrics awarded to Miss Farren are
no_ less laughable than such as are entrusted to Mr. Barrington.
Miss Kate Vaughan might be as usefully employed as a shepherdess
or fairy as Miss Leonora Braham or Miss Marion Hood, the
Savoyards having the advantage in vocalisation, and the Gaiety in
the “poetry of motion.”
Miss E. Farren, deservedly one of the most popular Actresses on
the Stage, who, in other days, might have been—with discipline—a
Mrs. Abington or Mrs. Jordan, needs no lime-light now to empha-
sise, the fact that she is an Artist. Her singing of “ My Boy,” in
variation, suggestion, and Cockney whimsicality, is a masterpiece.
With no pathetic touch to assist her, as in Mr. Reece’s capital
street-Arab’s song, the humour of the thing is just as bright and
keen. Her performance of Blue Beard is not a confidential com-
mentary between Miss Farren and her audience, but a clever bit of
skilful burlesque acting.
Nor need Miss Vaughan lean upon her'milliner for distinction in
an Art in which she is evidently proficient. Hitherto her fanciful
attire and her grace-
ful steps have con-
stituted. her claims
as an Actress; but
now her singing of
a broken - French
song, and her swift
and short imitation
of Sara Bern-
hardt, develop a
charming fund of
happy caricature.
That excellent
comedian, Mr. E.
Terry, has hitherto
been forced to
squirm and twist
and exaggerate his
own style for lack
of literary or comic
suggestion ; but
now, as the broken-
down, impecunious father of Mrs. Blue Beard, he is as genuinely
funny as Jemmy Rogers ever was in the palmy days of the Strand.
Miss Connie Gilchrist is “ getting a big girl now,” but has lost
none of the artlessness of her childhood; necessarily a subordinate
figure, she is always a pleasant companion to her associates on the
stage. But the spirit of Blue Beard is otherwise infectious. _ How
often, under other and more depressing circumstances, the assistants
and extras have gone through their work wearily and. miserably.
Now they start into life and action ; they are aroused to intelligence,
and try, at any rate, to do their best. Even Mr. Irving could not
be offended, or Mr. Kyrle Bellew outraged at the caricature by
Mr. Henley, who cleverly, and in a few touches shows how uncon-
sciously Mr. Bellew imitates Mr. Irving ; and there is not a
“ Masher ” in the famous front row who would break his crutch with
ra?e, or disturb the symmetry of his shirt-front on account of the
reflected affectation and mirrored apathy of the pretty young Ladies
who so serenely satirise the youthful follies of an effeminate and
unrobust age. If Blue Beard sets the example, never neglected in
the days of Robson, Wilton, Rogers & Co., of making the company
act up to the play, the reaction will not have been in vain.. It is a
step in the right direction, and though much more remains to be
done, yet as matters stand all are satisfied, Company, Comedians
and Critics.
Darby and Joan of Arc. “ Arc forrard! Away! ”
Additional Verse to an Old Song.
“ They will spoil the Embankment,” says Hogg unto Smith,
“ But of course it’s no business of mine! ”
Says Smith, “ ’Twould look better without them than with,
But of course it’s no business of mine! ”
Says Percy to both, a young Percy quite per se,
“ Won’t enter the lists against Westminster’s Circe.
If Bull doesn’t kick up a shine, it’s a mercy,-—
But of course it’s no business of mine ! ”
Chorus—Of course, &c.
Our own Mrs. R. says they seem to be making a great fuss about
the Exhibition of Messrs. Sheridan and Byrne, but why they
should, when you can see all the celebrities at Madame Tussaud’s
any day for a shilling, she finds it hard to understand.