PLAYERS OF OUR DAY.

I.—MR. J. L. TOOLE.

N the jeremiads which it is almost fashionable to utter over the decay of the British Stage, the players are whelmed in the general condemnation. This seems unfair; for the seat of the corruption will be found in another direction. The public and the playwright are to blame. The coarse, rude material worked up into farces is the very huckaback of literature

mere after-dinner buffoonery and too familiar nonsense. No actor of parts and ability could make anything of such stuff, while the most indifferent histrionic journeyman might win shrivelled laurels by setting out to all advantage what fell so admirably within his abilities. The carpenter who finds fault with his tools proverbially exposes himself to suspicion; but often the best of carpenters, required to produce fine joinery with the worst of tools thrust into his hands, will make but a poor job of it. To carry out the illustration further, if the customer prefers vamped-up, rough-hewn, ill-joined articles to fine cabinet work, how should carpenters or their tools be blamed? That public which has contracted an almost Roman taste for "bread and the games," which relishes spiced dishes, Formosas, mimic railroads and conflagrations, trapezes and high ropes, Alhambra short skirts, with music-hall smoking and feasting; whose girls are fast and loud, whose novels, dress, dancing, driving, talk, and general pastimes correspond; this public will only pay its money to see acting of a kindred sort. Therefore, what can the actors do, or how are they to be blamed? Stars in the histrionic welkin are indeed only rarely seen; indeed, are not to be expected; but at any period an average growth of talent in all professions is to be counted on. With this condition, provided the playwrights do their part regardless of the vulgar tastes of a demoralised audience, the Stage will flourish. It will be said that this "education" of an audience—this offering of meats to lips which turn away with nausea-is too costly a process; but it should be attempted with tact and discretion. Raw Shakespeare and Ben Jonson or Congreve should not be thrust on ill-prepared stomachs. Nor would such solitary protest, unfruitful though it might be for a time, be without profit. The dramatic bread

cast upon the waters will return before many days; for managers should remember that reform in this direction means reform of ruinous and unproductive expenditure. The spectacle of Jules Favre and the two or three other Republicans braving the Imperial Chamber of Deputies seemed a hopeless exhibition; but within half a dozen "seasons" the day came round when he and his opinions not only invited but could enforce respect. The public is unquestionably depraved in many senses, but it is not irreclaimable. It is led with surprising facility. Only set some bell-wether in front, with the bell of fashion or advertisement jingling, and it will follow. It has after all a sound taste at bottom; it only wants self-restraint. But the key to the present corruption is money, which the public has in its pocket. The actors act anything that will bring money, the managers work their theatres on the same principle, and the playwrights furnish material that will suit the aims of both..

The actors of our time are a vast band. The members of the profession-"all told," as they say, at sea-including the officers, mates, "hands," cooks, stewards, agents, &c.-would make up a strong force. A simple division of their ranks à la Carlyle might be into actors and no-actors, the first being only a meagre percentage— a fairer one would be into those who make money and those who do not. And it is to be remembered that as it is not enough to have a profound knowledge of law to be a successful lawyer, or of medicine to be a successful doctor, or of trade or business to be a successful homme des affaires, so in acting, great success can be attained by a sort of happy tact, industry, and a knowledge of the world. Actors who are industrious, clever, and sagacious enough to know what will please, and who besides have the art of cultivating a certain personal sympathy in their audience, are sure of extraordinary success; and the most successful in this department has certainly been Mr. J. L. Toole.

It is an illustration of British character that the virtues of such unwearied and steady industry, such never-flagging perseverance, such a respectable level of duty, and continued respect for those who support him, should have formed a strong and growing claim on the appreciation and support of his hearers. Every year his hold grows firmer and his gains increase. Other conscientious and excellent actors-Mr. Wigan or Mr. Webster-might take the same round, year after year, laboriously trudging the same beat, and find it only a more and more bootless errand. In his annual tours through the provinces Mr. Toole nets literally thousands, and a four months' circuit brings him in from a thousand to fifteen hundred pounds a

month. Managers are delighted to welcome him, though he always exacts that unwelcome tribute in the case of a drawing actor, which suits well in the instance of a poor hand-viz.: "sharing the house." Dead walls break out into a sort of St. Antony's fire of posters and proclamations that "Toole is Coming!" in all grotesque posturings of type-or "Toole !" simply causes a pleasing flutter of anticipation in the provincial district. It is to be noted also that, like professors of the ever-entertaining "Punch and Judy," he brings nearly always the same entertainment: and for years literally, when we have read the eruptive "Toole is Coming!" we know well that the first night's bill of fare will include "The Pretty Horsebreaker," "The Steeplechase," or "Ici on Parle Français." These three dishes are almost unvarying, and it seems a proof of Mr. Toole's art not to change them. It has been remarked that in purveying either novels or plays for the public, that Epicure likes best its old elements, the meat which it knows— the old beef and mutton in all varieties of dressing. New characters and situations fatigue and strain its feeble brain; what it is familiar with gives no trouble and is ever welcome. Thus the same melodramatic situations are dished up again and again, and are received as novelties. Now Mr. Toole knows well this feeble peculiarity of his supporters. If he should bring a new farce, he knows that for a period it would be "strange" to them, that the average slowmoving intellect would take time to master its humour; whereas the old pieces of rollicking fun stir pleasant memories. "'Steeplechase,' funniest thing you ever saw; go and see it, by all means!" thus those who have seen go again, because they expect as much entertainment, and at the same time act the part of introducers for their friends. The sagacious Toole knows this well; he can besides exhibit his gifts with less trouble to himself. Neither does he come too often or outlast his welcome. He makes himself "dear"—he is heralded artfully -he rouses, as we have said, a personal interest in himself; he is a Mason, and a working Mason-His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is on gracious terms with him, shakes hands with him cordially, &c., &c.—he has a large acquaintance, is a "good fellow" and an amusing companion. The scenes on his benefit nights-notably at Liverpool, where the orchestra is turned out to make room, and the audience is accommodated on the stage-are reported in every paper. His benefit is often spread over two nights, and he makes comic speeches of farewell. It is, indeed, scarcely worth his while to come to London, though he does so for a few months about Christmas, and really loses money by his condescension. During this season he supports the whole fortunes of the Gaiety Theatre on his indefatigable VOL. VII., N.S. 1871.

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back, and carries the burlesque through with, at least, a spirit that never flags. Here he can scarcely receive more than a couple of hundred or so a month, which is poor compared with his opulent sharings of the house" in the provinces. At such times his grotesque figure is seen on all the hoardings in flaring polychrome, and "Mr. Toole Every Evening!" gives joy to the cockney soul. Thus, it will be seen, there are certain elements of success in this department-namely, the making of money by dint of good "advance agency," and proper humouring of the public. Nor must we leave out that Chaucerian maxim so perfectly necessary to success-to seem ever busier than he is; not that we would insinuate that he pretends to more than he has, but he has always the air of overwork, of being obliged to post away when the play is over to keep engagements in other towns. Nothing succeeds like success: when it is once known that Toole's engagement always draws, that you cannot get a place, this alone is certain to bring fresh crowds.

But we have forgotten one minor element of his success— which, indeed, is inconsiderable compared with those grander agencies, posters, sharing theatres, &c.—namely, the merits of his acting. The implied opinion on this subject would seem to be that he is at the top of his profession; that he is a fellow of infinite humour, "who will make you roar by the hour;" and, in fact, his merits founded, of course, on his popularity-are recognised without dispute. Now there are two fashions of amusing on the Stage-one the true and sole dramatic fashion, the other a spurious and wholly undramatic mode. The one is independent of stage, scenery, dress, grimace—it is the dramatic instinct which conveys the idea of a character from the player identifying himself so completely with it that the former is stamped, almost without exertion on his part, on every tone and gesture. The other-and without offence be it spoken-is founded on the pleasure and surprise mingled together which a child receives from a grotesque mask. And there is a department of "acting" founded on this feeling which consists of "funny" gestures, queer notes, sudden twists, droll expressions all amusing in their way, but quite detached from the character. Players of a higher order, like Mr. Toole, who is strong in this repertoire, do indeed make these devices of their acting depend on the character, but after this fashion-they fit, not these devices to the character, but, what is a very different thing, the character to the devices. In other words, the character must show off Mr. Toole's private stock of eccentricities and drolleries. Laughter-unthinking laughter, quocumque modo-is his aim, and

this he obtains. It is like a droll fellow who in the midst of a serious conversation pulls so droll a face that you burst out into roars. There is nothing appropriate, but you laugh. It is a short step from these illustrations, which do not illustrate, to that odious weakness "gagging;" and here admirers and enemies of Mr. Toole will both be agreed he frequently runs riot. From habit it has become facile; from facility a vice. It comes to him easier than repeating the words set down. "Gagging" leads to sameness, though apparently it brings variety, and in too many of his burlesques Mr. Toole's gagging leaves the impression of monotony. In the last Gaiety burlesque, "Aladdin," he excelled himself, rioted in twangs and grimaces, and hunted "Still I am not 'appy!" to death. Any one who saw that piece on the first night, when the author was allowed to evolve his fairy story somewhat slowly yet gracefully enough, and about a fortnight later, when it had been ruthlessly cut or hacked down, while Mr. Toole's gagging was supposed to smooth away the rude chopping, would see the truth of this. It was very successful as gagging; but when Mr. Toole comes to bring this talent into two or three more burlesques he will find himself at the end of his rope. Though somewhat spoiled by success, Mr. Toole is not without ambition to rank high as an actor. Let him, then, now try to do something for lasting fame.

That "Still I am not 'appy!" is a fair specimen of Mr. Toole's stock-in-trade for producing droll effects-viz., repetition of a catchword. So in his "Horsebreaker," where he says "I won't, by jingo! no, by the living jingo." In "The Steeplechase" there is another catchword, which I cannot recall at the moment. In his Paul Pry, "I hope I don't intrude," is repeated oftener than is necessary with the same view. Such catchwords are the most elementary and conventional forms for inviting mirth; and it is surprising that comedians do not mark how, as the phrase is repeated, the laugh grows fainter, until it refuses to answer the challenge altogether. Mr. Toole's humorous arts are all in the wrong place; outside instead of within. This makes them superficial and limited; and there are actually many smart young fellows who can " imitate Toole" to the life, and many actors who readily form their style on his.

There are certain pieces where Mr. Toole, not being called upon to be in restless and obtrusive motion, is certainly excellent. One of them is Mr. Hollingshed's farce, "The Birthplace of Podgers," where the fun turns upon a bluff countryman, who is installed in "Podger the Poet's" dwelling-place, embarrassed and