THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE NOVEMBER, 1872. ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. BY JOAQUIN MILLER. PART III. Thatch of palm and a patch of clover, The clouds blew up and the birds flew over, Who was true in the test that tried us? Who was it mocked? Who now may mourn The loss of a love that a cross denied us, God forgive when the fair forget us. The worth of a smile, the weight of a tear, ING songs, and pour wine in oblations, Of thoughts that are fiercer than Time. As a tale that is told, as a vision, Forgive and forget; for I say That the true shall endure the derision I forgive as I would be forgiven; I forget, lest the ill I have done And all the days under the sun. VOL. IX., N.S. 1872. L L some energetic breakdown, preceded by a gymnastic song, where the "patter" of words is almost as fatiguing, the gymnasts, male and female, may be seen gasping, their chests heaving in spasms, while a thoughtless public tumultuously calls for a repetition. Would we see vigorous dancing, grinning and grimacing that is independent of a horse-collar, we need not go to the fair booth, where by tumbling, face-making, and general buffoonery the public is invited to enterwe have only to apply to the houses where the competing artists exhibit their powers. It is, indeed, no exaggeration to say that what is called burlesque acting is borrowed from those out-door mummers who tickle the midriffs of a crowd by pulling odd faces, putting their legs round their own necks, singing queer songs, and repeating buffooning jokes. It is nothing but a development of the pantomime, and your burlesque actor is little more than another shape of the clown. This language will not seem too strong if we analyse the average burlesque. In every company there is the forward, good-looking young woman who makes her lower limbs flourish like the Isle of Man Arms, who can sing a pert and almost impudent song, and above all is most at home in a spangled page's dress-that is, a stage page's dress-for in no Court in Europe, at least frequented by decent ladies, would such a costume have been tolerated. This young person must figure in every foolery as Prince Pettytoes or the young Marquis, with an eye-glass and unbrella, accompanied by the spangled satin tights. The wretched monotony of these characters, and the invariable repetition of the points, show how poor and limited is the capability of burlesque. There is a miserable round of conventional tricks, chiefly taken from the music halls-and, indeed, many of these young ladies graduate at the "halls" and bring these stale devices from their Alma Mater, which are repeated ad nauseam. For instance, when a secret is to be communicated there is but the one "common form "-the two parties stepping down to the front with grotesque steps, as if in time to music, "bobbing" their heads, looking round mysteriously, and conveying the effect of doing something very droll. The heart sinks when we see this poverty-stricken programme beginning. There are scores of burlesques, too, where the situation is that the characters go tripping round, crossing each other, not forgetting the regulation formula for getting off, at the end of some grotesque dance-viz., by jumping like a kangaroo. Another conventional character in the burlesque is the storming or raging king, with his queen (usually played by a gentleman); while another is the leading comic character, some monstrosity of "making up "—some terrible chef-d'œuvre of smearing, smirching, and masquerading. A combination of a modern hat with a Roman dress—a modern dress with a Roman hat-some such night-mare of costume is all that is required. All, of course, wholly outside the regions of fun; paint, patches, and dress being hardly recognised as elements of genuine humour. These, indeed, belong to the mountebanks, and it is an unfair "poaching" on their manors. Burlesque is as unchanging as some old Tory, and cannot succeed without repeating its old devices. Outside these it feels insecure. Accordingly the old characters and their old tricks are repeated in each effort with but little variety. It will be said, perhaps, that though this entertainment bears the conventional name of "burlesque" it aims at a different order of amusement. It intends to entertain by mumming simply. It does not mean to "burlesque " a story in the strict sense of the term. This is the only way of defending the entertainment; but it is at the expense of its dignity, for it is thus reduced to the level of Punch and similar shows. When the case is thus plainly stated, there is no more to be said; but the title had better be rectified forthwith. A trifling question, however, remains behind, which may interest the public, who after all is the chief party concerned-viz., whether burlesque written on the true principle would not be a far more delightful sort of entertainment— whether by following these false gods it has not lost the delight of a truer faith. Would we know what this is we have only to go over to Paris, or even read some of the burlesques of those agreeable partners MM. Meilhac and Halévy. There we learn the meaning of the fun that can be extracted from a real travestie. Take the subject of "Blue Beard," for instance. Recently it has been put on the boards after the conventional fashion-the hero a sort of dancing grotesque, with a false nose, singing comic songs; his wife "dancing off," every character being a sort of clown, and the story generally incomprehensible. The same subject is put on the stage in Paris, but there it is travestied, treated according to the principles of genuine humour. Any one who has seen Offenbach's "Barbe Bleue" will understand this. The conception of the character of Blue Beard as that of a tender, affected, and refined being, who required change, who was not in the least truculent, but only fickle, was in itself highly humorous. So, too, with the notion of the last wife-a coarse country girl, who would not stand this treatment. All this is amusing and comic. So with the "Grande Duchesse," the "Princesse de Trebizonde," and the "Belle Hélène," where Calchas alone is simply perfect. But our burlesque actors, being mummers, require pieces of another description to be written for them. Last year Mr. Gilbert brought out "Thespis" at the Gaiety, an agreeable piece of humour, turning on the "Pagan god business" being "used up." But the players did not seem to understand it. The “fun” did not tell; the clever pantomimist Mr. Payne brought his legs to the rescue-every three or four minutes spinning them about, converting them into compasses— and thus secured a laugh. The lively Toole "gagged" and "gagged" again. He got hold of a phrase, “I don't know you,” and ground it like the handle of a barrel-organ. A foreigner, Mdlle. Clary, was among them, and with her beaming, intelligent looks, and expressed enjoyment of what was going on, conveyed some intelligence and imparted some coherence. Such is true burlesque by the side of English burlesque. Mr. D. James is fairly at the head of the corps. There is a certain drollery about him: and he must be admitted to be a clever mime. He has a stock-in-trade of grotesque antics and grimaces, and a husky voice, always effective for dry drollery. This gentleman made a signal success in a burlesque at the Vaudeville, where he played an idiotic "page boy"-a truly painful exhibition of street tumbling. There is no reflection intended here on Mr. James's talents—he is a clever, hard-working actor-but the character was simply degrading. It was impossible to make out his connection with the story, or indeed his connection with coherence or intelligence. All that was intended was a grotesque exhibition "to make people laugh." Mr. James could count up a long list of these fooleries in which he has taken part, first at the Strand Theatre, later at his own house. Formerly there was, indeed, some attempt at what was intelligible, when he played Guy Fawkes, and conveyed an odd and quaint idea of that hero. His masterpiece was the French King in the "Field of the Cloth of Gold," a piece that approached tolerably near the true principle of burlesque. There has been an attempt lately to make him a reputation in legitimate comedy, founded on his rendering a sort of imbecile character in "The Two Thorns." Never was there a greater mistake. The only ground for calling it a success was its verging on the pantomime of a burlesque character. He made it a sort of queer oddity, without conceivable meaning or coherence. But the dramatic critics of the newspapers are fond of making these discoveries, and actors are equally fond of attempting on a sudden something wholly different from their accustomed line. It looks discerning thus striking out and recognising a new vein. Years of gymnastics and the "high rope" cannot train a man into being a comedian. Mr. James's voice, too, is singularly against him-there is a curious twang, joined with a huskiness as odd, and this is not suited to the elegant and airy inflections of comedy. But he is a hard-working, painstaking actor, and certainly spares neither energy nor study nor wind to please his "patrons." His friend, coadjutor, stage partner, and now fellow manager is Mr. Thomas Thorne, another of the untiring and unflagging, a school whose exertions might be transferred to "a bare backed" steed without much want of harmony. This gentleman revels in the costumes of the opposite sex, and has made his reputation by the delineation of burlesque queens and comically forlorn spinsters. Enormous "shinons "-so the article is often pronounced in burlesques — crinolines, short petticoats, and a simulated bosom are indispensable for the production of this order of fun, which, without offence be it spoken, is an infringement on the patent rights of the clown. For that humorous artist dresses himself in female attire before the public, stumbles in the palings of his crinoline, falls, affects modesty at the exhibition of his legs, drops his "shignon" as they call it-in short, goes through the round of tricks with which we have been familiar in many a pantomime for many a year. Thus it is we gradually trace the present shape of burlesque from the regular stage to the music hall, and from the music hall to the clown-and it does not make a very glorious family tree. Mr. Thorne, too, has that peculiar voice of a horny character, which is unpleasant. But really it is ungracious to be finding fault where so much labour and hodman's exertion is given to amuse, when the liberal profits are more than earned by exertion that exceeds that of stone breaking or paving. No one can visit the temples devoted to this sort of thing without coming away at least satisfied that every one has spared neither limb nor voice to amuse him. Yet it must be infatuation that drives actors with good gifts into parts that positively put them lower than the pantomime clowns. Let any one go and see Mr. Thorne at an early part of the evening, when he is playing Meddle in "London Assurance," and an hour or two later when he is in his strong mountebanking in a night-mare dress in "Camaralzaman." The first is really a funny performance— vivacious, and full of spirit-at the latter it was impossible even to smile. In Mr. James's case there was nearly the same contrast; and his Dolly in the first piece was infinitely more diverting than all his antics in the last. But still this only bears out what has been stated; for the inflections of his voice and the "faces" that he makes are all borrowed from his burlesque character; and it is probable he would make nothing of a character which did not depend upon what was grotesque. |