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THE LIFE
OF
GUSTAYUS YAUGHATsT BROOKE.
^
^/y^^^/^^.
^g^i.i>t^J
THE LIFE
OF
GUSTAVUS VAUGHAN BROOKE,
TRAGEDIAN.
BY
W. J. LAWRENCE.
' Nothiii;; in his life
Uecainc liiin like tlie leaving it ; he tlicd
As one that had heeu studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest tliinjr he owed
As 'twere a careless trifle.'
BELFAST: W. & G. BAIRD. ROYAL AVENUE
1892.
[all rights reserved.]
[KiifiiiniUii ' ii V'lLiJiiiMrn '^ i^i ^ t'gi/iiimJJiiijmmiJiumiJmmiJiiimimiJifum^
PREFACE.
TA' (in (itjc irlii'u It is fusliionable for the iri'll-t/rared ploijer to indnhji'
in tiutuliKii/nip/iiciil n'winiscenrrs, or to Itarr /tis life written while
in the iiieridttin of Iii.s cureer, some dpoloi/i/ nun/ lie deemed necessari/
for ended rouri)i;i to eiidxilm the memorii (f a Triton <f the past. There
must lie nunij/, hoireeer, who still (ii/rce irith '/'dllei/nind, that to sped.-
the irhole truth, <nid uotliin;! hut the truth, eoneerjiin;/ the life-worh
"f ""1/ pi'^'Uiinent persuncoje, without u-roiKjintj t/ie memory of the
deud or the peaee (f the lirin;/, it needs to remain sUent for well-
nif/h three deeudes after the falli)u/ of the curtain. It was with this
confidence, and under the assurance that the career of G. V. Brooke
deserved tniitunnt in full, that the present work was takin in hands
some three years i(t/o. In venturing to claim for it those merits which
must lie denied to the few fui/itire liior/rajdiieal notices of the actor
in eivistencc — r/:., accuraeif and completeness — it is that 1 maij test if 1/
to the (lenerositij if a host of aide correspondents who (in response
to carious letters of appe(d consideratehj inserted hi/ the editors of
mainj home and forei;/)! journals ) hare, from time to time, favoured
me witJi tlieir co-ojieration. Xenr, indenl, iras actor so i/ratefulli/
rememhered, never hioi/rajdii r more iiKKinanimoushj e.epedited. Material
assistance was received at the outset from llnioke''s old friend, Mr.
ir. //. Malcolm, of llolywood, ir/m /daced Jiis valuable collection
(f plai/bills, press cuttini/s, and autoi/rojih letters at niij disposal.
Thanks are also larr/elij due to Mrs. Heath/ f wife of the Eev. Cation
Hcatlij, ]).])., of Eosbercon, New Boss, and only survivinp si.fter of
the inniKlian ) for the unrestricted use of all the fumihj /uijiers relevant
to the biofjraphij. Ainony these I nun/ nuntion Forrest's cJiaracteristic
epistle to Brooke, Brooke's lines on the death of Elton, and the
718589
vi. Gustavus Vauglian Broohe.
Austi'dlifin corrc^nmdencc so freehj quoted from in Cluipters IX.
(iml X. Most of the particulars of Brooke's hoifhood and famili/
connections — except such as were vouchsafed hi/ his old school felloic,
J)r. Fo.r, of Greenock — were also furnished Inj 2Irs. Heathj. Not a
whit less important icas the assistance of this ladtj in settimi rinalhj
at rest certain moot j)oints which hare hitherto formed food for
contention amowj r/reen-room r/ossips and theatrical flaneurs.
For the use of iq)wards of fortij letters, written at various
periods bij the traf/edian and his second, tcife to the late Mr. ^forris,
of Ayr, I have to acknowledt/e m;/ indebtedness to his nrphrir, 2Ir.
James Morris, of 28 Canjield Gardens, South Hampsteail, X.W.
Amomj Australian correspondents, Mr. Joseph Blascheck, of Parkrille,
Melbourne, ranks easily first as an indefatiyahle helper. 2[r. W.
Dimmore, of 16 Chestnut Street, Hiyhtown, Manchester, was from
first to last unceasiny in his efforts to put me in possession of
e.vhaustire details reyardiny the old Manchester stock days. Liyht on
obscure jwints was also thrown by Mr. W. C. Day, of 24 Bedford
Square, W.C: Mr. William Douylas, tf 1 Brixton Boad, S.W.: Mr.
J. A. La)iyford, LL.D., and Mr. Samuel 'Timmins, of Birminyham :
Mr. James Sutton, of 31 Broomhall Place, Shefiield : Mr. J.
O'Unrke, if 37 Belyrave Boad, Bathmines : Mr. Gervais Briyht, of
Armayh; and Mr. W. Jackson Piyott, of Dmulrum, Co. Down.
My attitude towards prerious writers on P>rooke haeiny been for
the most part ayyresstve, I find little occasion to make farther
acknowledymcnt of indebtedness here. In the few instances where
im)iiratio7i has been derived from public sources, ample avowal will
be found either in the te.rt nr in accompanyiny footnotes.
The photoyrarure frontispiece represents the tnoyedian as he
appeared after his return from Australia, early in tlie 'si.eties. For
permission in ropy the jihotoyrajdi from irhie/i if is /alien J hare to
thank my friend, Mrs. Swanton, who, in eonjnnrlinti with her late
husliand , itpjiKired iiilh lirooke on his last niylit of miiny. T/ie
nutnyraph siynatnre upjifuded is frmii a litter of the same period,
furnished by Mr. IT. //. Malenlm.
W. J. LAWRENCE.
f"(»Mr.Ki:,
.Iam-ai!v, 1H!»1>.
CONTENTS.
Preface
PAGE
V.
Chapter I., 1818—1834
Birth of the Tragedian — Not Christened Gustavus Vasa,
according to popular belief — His Father and Mother — Their
Family Antecedents — Ihooke's Precocity as a Child - Is sent
to School at Edgeworthstown — The Uev. William Jones's
Academy in Dublin — Ihooke's youthful Prowess as an Athlete
and Fencer — Acts and Dances on a Private Stage — Influence
of his early Tutors — Russell, the Professor of Elocution —
The Stripling Interviews Macready and J. W. Calcraft —
His First Appearance at the Dublin Theatre and subsequent
Tour through the Provinces — Anecdote illustrative of his
Large -hear tedness — "The Hibernian Roscius" in London.
Chapter II., 183-4— IBil
Adventure at Dover — " Exit ' The Hibernian Roscius ' ; Enter
i\Ir. (iustavus Brooke, Tragedian " — The Converted Manager-
Reappearance in Dublin— First Meeting with Mr. George
Goppin— Brooke's <t>uick Stiidy and Wonderful Memory—
liemarks on his Delivery and Stage Deportment — His
Physical Characteristics — l^ord Lytton on his Claude Melnotte
— Scene at the Birmingham Theatre — Two Tressels in the
Field— ]\Iiss Marie Duret— Brooke's Drury Lane Engagement
with ^lacready— Its Sudden Termination.
20
Chapter III., 1842—1840 ...
Manchester, Liverpool, and Cork — Tragic Incident at Berwick
—Strolling E.\periences in Scotland —Brooke an .Admirer of
Vandenhoff— Returns to ^I.anchester and Plays with Macready,
Edwin Forrest, and Charlotte Cushman —Lester Wallack's
Estimate of our Hero — Forrest's Ciiaracteristic Epi.stle to
Brooke— Helen Faucit in Manchester and Dublin.
37
viii. Gustavus Vaurjhan Brooke.
PAGE
Chapter IV., 1816—1847 ... ... ... ... 57
Brooke and the Impecunious Cork Manager — Lady Martin's
Reminiscences of the Tragedian — His Acting Minutely
Considered — Marie Wilton in the Manchester Stock Company
— Fanny Kenible's Reappearance — Macready again — Brooke's
First and only Appearance in a startling role at Wigan — The
Guileless Doctor of Rochdale— Miss Glyn— Barry Sullivan —
Brooke Arrested on his Benefit Night — Elects to Appear in
London at the Olympic.
Chapter V., 1848—1849 ... ... ... ... 75
On the Eve of a Trying Event— Brooke's d6but at the Olympic
— A Capricious Audience Triumphantly Overcome — Hailed by
the Press as Edmund Kean's Successor — Brooke and Salvini
contrasted— Disappointing Result of the Olympic Engagement
— Brooke Refuses Benjamin "Webster's INIunificent Offer —
Returns to the Provinces — Influence of his Acting on the
Edinburgh Students— Richard the Third's Wig; a Saddening
Si)ectacle — Brooke's Vocal Organ becomes Impaired —
"Shallows and Miseries" of Provincial Strolling— A Startling
Series of Coincidences — Brooke's "Lines on the Death of
Elton" — Readings from Shakespeare — Letters to Morris —
How the Money Went.
Chapter VI., 1849—1851 ... ... ... ... 101
Gus. and his Brother William— Sudden Departure of Marie
Duret — Brooke Returns to the Olympic— His Letters to Morris
— Appears in The Noble //ear^— Arrest and Death of the
Olympic ^Manager — Brooke's Dilemma — Troubles witli his
Costumier — Becomes Insolvent — Plays at the Marylebone —
Under Medical Treatment for his Voice— Appears in Westland
Marston's Marie de RIeranic — Acts in a Round of Characters
with Miss Helen Faucit — Revisits the Provinces — Stirring
Scene in the Belfast Theatre — A Tribute in Verse from a
French Admirer— His First Marriage— Preparing for American
Tour.
Chapter VIL, 1851—1853 ... ... ... ... 118
Some Mi.nleading Statements Combated — Brooke makes his
First Appearance in America at the Broadway Theatre,
New York — Edwin Forrest's Friendly Attitude — Visits
Phiiadeli)hia, Boston, Washington, and liaitimore — Meets
witli (Weat SufcusH, and Ituslily Dctcniiinc's to Embark
Sinj;ic-handcfl upon Theatrical Management in New 'N'ork—
Becomes LcHhecof the Astor Place Ojjcra House, and I'roduces
Tlic Corsican J Irolhcr.s —The N'cnture Proves Disastrous —
AKHOciatcH himself once more witli Mr. .1. Hal! Wilton, and
enters upon bin Second Tour — The Tide Turns - StMious
Contents. ix.
PAGE
Illness in St. Lonis — Is Presented at Boston with a Magui-
licent Testimonial — Last Appearance in America — Edmund
Kean's Dagger.
Chapter Vill., 1853—1854 ... ... ... ... 129
Ikooke Iteappears at ]>irmiiigliani, and enters upon a short
Provincial Tour — A Successfnl and Protracted Drury Lane
Engagement — The i?c<?'o</i«/— Presentation at the Coal-IIole
Tavern — Brooke's Christmas Bo.ves to the Poor — Reappears
at Drury Lane — Production of Tlte Veiulclta — An All-Night
Sitting in Manchester— O;)irt«o brought out for the Pirst Time
at Birmingham— Brooke meets Coppin, and arranges to go to
Australia — His Third Drury Lane Engagement — First
Appearance in London in Irish Comedy — Accedes to a Public
Requisition to Act at the City of London Theatre, and says
Good-bye to his Friends in England.
Chapter IX., 1854—1856 ... ... ... ... 158
Brooke Sails for Melbourne in the S.S. Pacijic — A Protracted
Voyage — Acts at Capetown with Miss Fanny Cathcart —
The Drama in Melbourne — Coppin's Chequered Career —
Brooke's P'irst Appearance in the Colonies — Virginius' Dog
— Visits Geelong and Sydney — Tributes, Poetical and
otherwise — Opening of Coppin's Olympic, alias "The Iron
Pot "—Brooke's First Appearance as King Lear — Quarrels
with Robert Heir— An Avalanche of Testimonials — Adds
Considerably to his Repertory of Tragic and Irish Characters
— Visits Tasmania — Enters into Partnership with George
Coppin, and once more essays Theatrical Management —
Death of his Brother— Opens the Lyceum Theatre, Sydney
— First Appearance as Werner.
Chapter X., 1857—1861 ... . . ... ... 182
New Characters in Sydney and Melbourne — Prospero, Gerald
Pepper, Cardinal Wolsey, Colonna, Raphael Duchalet, Sardan-
apalus, etc.— Premature "Farewell" Performances — Brooke's
Rupture with Coppin — Assumes Entire Control of the
Melbourne Royal and Produces Several Novelties without
Success — His Letter to Heir — Australian debut of Miss
Avonia Jones — Her Antecedents — A Timorous Lennox and a
Soft-Hearted ISIacbeth— The Tragedian Ifeturns to his Old
Habits and Disappoints Country Audiences — Appears in
Melbourne as Biron, Louis XL, and Sir Bernard Harleigh—
Lines on his lago — Production of The Comedy of Errors —
McKean Buchanan Handled Without Gloves — Brooke's
Distress Publicly Referred to by Coppin — Genuine Farewell
I^erformances at Last — Departure of the Tragedian in 77ic
Great Britain— ^mmna.iy of His Work in the Colonies."
X. Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
PAGE
Chapter XL, 1861—1863 ... ... ... ... 218
State of the Drama in England — Brooke plays his Last
Engagement at Drury Lane — Debut of Avonia Jones in
Medea— An Unlucky Provincial Tour— Brooke Quarrels with
the Belfast Manager and gives Dramatic Headings there —
(Suflering in Health — Spiteful Action of E. T. Smith— Brooke
an Inmate of Warwick tlaol — Morris to the Rescue — Mr.
Bancroft's Coming of Age — A Memorable ^lanchester Engage-
ment — Heury Irving plays the role of Apologist— Fechter's
Curiositj- to see Brooke — Avonia Jones goes her Own Way —
Our Hero at the City of London Theatre— Death of his Mother
— His Second Marriage.
Chapter XII., 1863—1861 ... ... ... ... 235
Brooke's Decline and Fall — A Lurching, Incoherent Hamlet—
In Ireland witli ^Ir. Bancroft — Plays Coriolanus at Dublin—
The Drama in Leamington — Avonia Jones's Eloquent Defence
— Saddening Scenes in the Provinces — A Memorable Saturday
Night in Belfast and its Sequel — How Brooke Dealt with an
Extortionate Jarvey — His Lamentable Fiasco at Sadler's W'ells.
Chapter XIII., 1864—1865 ... ... ... ... 251
Sale of Brooke's Gold and Silver Plate— On his Last Legs —
Barnstorming in the Provinces — ]\Iacbeth in a Fix — A Strange
Dream — Brooke at Leeds with John Coleman — Iteturn of
Avonia Jones and George Coppin — The Tragedian Finally
Decides to Depart for Australia — His Last Dublin Engage- -
ment -Othello and lago Doubled— Gus's Legacy — Brooke's
Last Engagement — Edward Terry's Beminiscences — An Oddly-
phrased Bill — The Tragedian says Good-bye and takes his
Last Look at the Footlights— Classic Traditions of the Old
Belfast Theatre.
Chapter XIV., 1866—1867 ... ... ... ... 265
The S.S. London: her Cargo and Defects — "Mr. and Miss
\'auglian " Embark at Plymouth — Unhappy Results of
llrooke's Inrof/nito — Tlie Legend of the BalHed SherilFs'
Ollicers— Detailed Account of the Voyage — Death of Miss
Brooke from Heart Failure — (iustavus Lends a Hand at the
Pumps — He Refu.ses to go in the Boat, and Sends his
Farewell to Melbourne — Verses Commemorative of his Noble
landing — Reception of the News in EngIan<I and the Colonies
—The Poolbeg Memorial Lifeboat : an lOphemeral Memento
— Avonia Jones Heartbroken — She Appears at the Surrey in
Last Lijnnc — liciunxti to America and Dies there — Her Father
and Mother Reconciled over her Deathbed.
Index ... ... ... ... ... ... 27'J
^J^ HE L I F K
OF
GUSTAVUS VAUGHAN BROOKE,
TRAGEDIAN.
CHAPTER I
1818—1834.
Birth of the Tragedian — Not Christened Gustavus Vasa, according to
popular belief— His Father and Mother —Their Family Antecedents —
Brooke's Precocity as a Child— Is sent to School at Edgeworthstown
— Maria Edgeworth- The Rev. William Jones's Academy in Dublin —
Brooke's Youthful Prowess as an Athlete and Fencer— Acts and
Dances on a Private Stage— Influence of his Early Tutors — Russell,
the Professor of Elocution — The Stripling Interviews Macready and
J. W. Calcraft — His First Appearance at the Dublin Theatre, and
subsequent Tour through the Provinces — Anecdote illustrative of
his Large-heartedness — The " Hibernian Roscius " in London,
rilHERE are, in Ireland, two consanguineous Brooke families
JL of importance, the one of Fermanagh, the other of Donegal.
It was to the latter and elder branch that Gustavus Vaughan
Brooke belonged. Born at No. 40 Hardwicke Place, Dublin,
the residence of his father, on Satui'day, April 25, 1818, as not
infrequently happened in those lax days, he was privately baptised,
and had for godfathers General Gustavus Vaughan Hart and
Thomas Brooke, Esq., of Lough Esk Castle, County Donegal.
In connection with the frequently repeated assertion that the
subject of this memoir was originally christened Gustavus Vasa,
after the famous tragedy of Henry Brooke (of whom he was a
B
2 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
collateral descendant), it is iiecessary to show Low the names
Gustavus and Vaughau became associated with the Brooke
family. The facts are clear. Sir Frederick Hamilton, after
signalizing himself in the armies of Gustavus Adolphus, King of
Sweden, married Sidney, daughter and heiress of Sir John
Vaughan, and had as son Gustavus. Elevated to the peerage as
Viscount Boyne in the year 1717, the last-mentioned eventually
married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Henry Brooke, of Brooke's
borough, County Fermanagh,
Described as "Esquire" in the Directories of the period, Gustavus
Brooke, father of the tragedian, was a graduate of Trinity College,
Dublin, and a Freeman of the city. His elder and only brother,
Henry Brooke, of Brookehall, had as son Colonel Henry Brooke,
C.B., who was on the verge of taking out the lapsed baronetcy of
Donegal when stricken with death at Holyhead.
It has been frequently stated in various accounts of the
tragedian's life that his father at the outset pursued the profession
of an architect. This was not the case. But the mistake is
pardonable, seeing that he had a hobby for trafiicking in house
property and took great delight in altering and re-constructing his
acquirements. Inheriting the slender portion of a younger son,
he Inst all, save what had been settled on his wife as jointure, by
injudicious investments in canal debentures and by "backing" bills
for impecunious friends. At this juncture — about the year 1824 — he
left Dublin for Longford on his appointment as County Inspector
of Police for that district by the Marquis of Wellesley. It was a
time of great political excitement, and being clever with pen
and pencil he wrote and illustrated quite a number of racy
pamphlets and party squibs. His official career was, however,
Hliort. He died at Longford in 1827, and was buried at Castle
Forljcs, leaving a widow and four children, Gustavus Vaughan
(the eldest born), William Basil, J'^li/abcth, and Frances
Sarah (Fanny). Twin sons, Thomas and llcnry, died in
infancy.
Tlic lady wiiom Gustavus B.rookc liad taken to wife was
Frances JJatluirst, youngest daughter of Matthew Bathurst, Esq.,
Chihlhno'l 3
now of Inillinaskea House, ami now of Summer Hill, County
Meatli. The former residence was burnt to the ground in the
rebellion of '98. A woman of Gallic temperament and vivacity,
Mrs. Brooke is said, in the heyday of her youth, to have been
singularly handsome and attractive. Even in later life she
possessed remarkable grace and gentleness of manner, and from
first to last was perfectly idolised by her children. Lovable,
indeed, must have been the disposition which could have evoked
the brightest and best trait in the tragedian's character — a trait
which throughout all the blurring and hardening influences of
life shone luminously to the end : his intense child-like affection
for the woman who gave him birth.
From all accounts Master Gustavus appears to have been a
very precocious youngster. Surprising as it is to learn that at
the age of four he could read a newspaper, it is still more
surprising to find that at the same immature period his father
was wont to put him on the parlour table to recite before a circle
of admiring friends. So widely recognised, in fact, were the
child's mimetic powers that it was by no means unusual for the
military officers quartered at Longford to carry him oflf to the
barracks to enjoy a hearty laugh over his imitations of various
people in the town. On one occasion they treated him to the enter-
tainment of a wandering ventriloquist, whose methods he so quickly
mastered that on his return home he nearly frightened his sister
Elizabeth out of her wits by making his voice come down the
chimney-
But these frolicsome pranks were soon to come to an end.
Having very good reason to fear that her child would be spoilt,
Mrs. Brooke made arrangements for his conveyance as a boarder
to a school in Edgcworthstown, originally established by Kichard
Lovell Edgeworth, father of the famous novelist, and conducted
at that period by Lovell his son. Writes Dr. Fox, of Greenock, in
reply to our enquiries ; —
" I went to that celebrated academy in the year 1826, and
remained there for two years ; at that time there were upwards
of 500 boys, composed of boarders, out-boarders, and day scholars
4 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
The boarders occupied a large house adjoining the school, and paid
a considerable sum for the privileges pertaining thereto. Master
Brooke, however, owing to his youth and other circumstances,
paid much less than any other boy in the house.
" The out-boarders were quartered through the town, and
were looked alter by the various ladies who accommodated them,
and who were responsible to Mr. Edge worth for their conduct and
behaviour.
" The three classes of boys were dressed in nice well-made
blouses, ornamented according to the taste of their respective
mothers or guardians, and were inspected every morning on
entering the school-room by Lovell Edgeworth himself. That
gentleman lived outside the town in a beautiful large house, well
wooded, with many ornamental walks and shrubberies.
" There was a room off the school-house called the hinh,
with which I was pretty familiar, having suffered there often for
fighting with the day scholars and other minor offences. I must
say, however, in justice to Master Brooke that I never saw or
knew of his being in that hotbed of torture, and I venture to
assert that he was an exception in general good conduct and
behaviour.
" The course of study pursued was in strict accordance with
the ' Lancasterian system ' of teaching, and was very impressive,
beside improving the retentive power of the brain. The classes,
each composed of twelve boys, were arranged round the room in
a semi-circular form, with a monitor to each ; the board containing
the lesson was suspended from an upright, and each boy read
from right to left and from left to right, when the board was
turned and questions asked by the teacher as to the nature
of the subject. If tlic answers were not satisfactory, the same
course was again gone through until the boys were masters of
the subject.
"Master Brooke was a small boy for his years, but exceedingly
nice, genteel, and interesting. I was liis monitor at the writing
desk, and liad often been under the disagreeable necessity of
contcling him for inattention and carelessness.
WiU the E(hj('ic<nthfi. 5
"In my second year I was enrolled as a reader, and in iliat
capacity called at the big house every morning about eight o'clock
to read in the bedroom and answer questions during the time
Lowell Edgeworth was making his ablutions and dressing. Master
Brooke was on the staff of readers, and was certainly a great
favourite with the family."
So great a favourite, indeed, that he was selected as companion
for young Essex Edgeworth. Maria Edgeworth, on the verge
of sixty, still retained her great liking for children ; and Brooke
ever cherished deep remembrances of the penetrating grey eyes
and sparse trim figure of the old lady who admitted him to her
table and told him amusing stories.
At Edgeworthstown the boy remained until his mother
deemed it expedient to remove to Dublin for the better education
of her other children. Installing herself in a mansion in
Marlborough Street, bequeathed her by her husband, Mrs.
Brooke at once despatched Master Gus. to the Eev. William
Jones's Academy in Gardiner's Place, where he received a
classical education and was prepared for college with the view
of entering the legal profession. Seeing that there had been
three generations of judges in his mother's family, and as
personal influence went for nmch in those days, it was far from
idle to assume that his progress at the bar would be tolerably
rapid. Events, however, soon occurred which diverted hia
ambition into another channel. As a matter of fact, he never
entered at Trinity College. Statements to the contrary have
frequently been made ; but the registers, in their silence, show
the fable is about on a par with the long exploded assertion
that Edmund Kean was an Eton scholar. Such are some of
the curiosities of histrionic tradition — green-room fungi, rotten
to the touch, clustering round the root of a great name.
Among seats of learning in the Hibernian capital in those
days Jones's Academy possessed one distinguishing characteristic.
There the body underwent as systematic cultivation as the mind.
Thanks to the able tuition of M. Satelle, the fencing master,
Brooke made surprising progress, and as a runner, wrestler, and
6 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
leaper soon became noted for his agility and endurance. His
greatest deliglit, however, was in fencing, an art in which he
had no compeer in the school. He came off victor once in a
famous contest at singlestick between four hundred and ninety
scholars, receiving so many ugly knocks in the fray as to
suffer severely in the flesh for weeks after. Not aptly, indeed,
has this trial of skill been compared with the famous struggle
between the Horatii and Curiatii. There were three contestants
on each side at the beginning, and bout followed bout until
Master Gus. was left in undisputed possession of the field.
With the return of each succeeding Midsummer and Christmas
came the half-yearly examinations, generally lasting four days in
all. Of these, two were passed prosily enough, within closed
doors ; meanwhile considerable pains were being taken to see what
progress the pupils had made in the classical curriculum. On the
remaining days things assumed a much livelier aspect, through the
holding of public exams, in a large hall attached to the school,
in which a platform and orchestra were erected for the occasion.
Here the relatives and friends of the boys gathered in goodly
array, to listen to the recitations in French, Latin, and English,
and to undergo some modicum of excitement over the exhibitions
of dancing, fencing, singlestick, and sword exercise. Occasionally,
too, a House of Commons would be erected, when picked boys
would spout some of the famous speeches of parliamentary
orators, to the exceeding delight of papa and mamma. During
bis stay at the academy Brooke carried off no less than eleven
prizes, the most coveted of which was the medal for elocution in
the French language, won by an impassioned rendering of selected
passages from the tragedy of lii'ijulus.
Mr. Montague, the dancing-master, who enjoyed great vogue
in the Dublin society of those days (he was Master of the
Ceremonies at the Almack), took it into his head to erect a
stage in some building in North Frederick Street, where the boys
of the academy were graciously permitted by their reverend master
to perform in play.s and execute fancy dances in costume. Mrs.
Heatley liiis u vivid rccollcclion of her brother dancing a sailor's
MouldliKj thi (JIaij. 7
lionipipe, dressed in cliaracter, and of his appearance in some
female part in a dull tragedy. It is interesting to note that on
this long-forgotten private stage Master Gus. first played Young
Norval and William Tell, and in the latter personation astonished
even his elocution master by his limpid and mellilluous delivery
of the well-known apostrophe, " Ye crags and peaks, I'm with
you once again."
To the praises lavished upon him in connection with these
exhibitions and performances, the fostering of young ]3rooke's
dramatic tastes has been very properly attributed. In thorough
accord with the fitness of things, he was quite unconsciously
receiving the best possible preparation for the career in which
he was ordained to shine so conspicuously. Under the skilful
tutelage of M. Satelle and Mr. Montague, he had acquired a
grace of deportment which, combined with his classical features
and beautifully moulded frame, subsequently rendered him a
model of manly beauty. Mr, W. H. Russell, the elocution master
at the academy, hailed with delight the dawnings of genius in
the boy, of whom he predicted great things. A large measure
of truth undoubtedly attaches itself to the charge brought against
this worthy, that, without the knowledge of young Brooke's
relatives, he took advantage of every opportunity to fan the
dramatic flame into a blaze, giving the boy additional tuition
after school hours, aiid encouraging him in every possible way
to adopt the stage as a profession. With such tillage of rich
soil small wonder that the boy's recitations soon became quite
the feature of family parties. A favourite rendezvous of those
who desired to get a taste of Master Gus.'s quality was the
house of Mr. Colhns, whose two sons were fellow-pupils and
boon companions of the juvenile elocutionist.
Amid all this hubbub and pleasurable excitement, it chanced
that Macready, on March 19, 1832, came to Dublin to fulfil a
four-weeks' engagement. Hearing much talk of the great actor,
Master Brooke must needs get permission from his mother to go
and see him. It was his first visit to the theatre, and the
result, as might have been anticipated, was a desperate case of
8 Gustavus Vaurjhan Brooke.
stage fever. Next morning he had the audacity to wait upon
the eminent tragedian, and found him busily engaged rehearsing
Roh Boy for production on April 14. Macready received the
aspirant for dramatic honours very courteously, and with paternal
sohcitude proceeded to impress upon him some idea of the trials
and tribulations which beset the poor player. Gus. listened
attentively to the homily (it was not the last he was
to hear from the same lips !) and finding it was all the
satisfaction he was likely to get for his pains, respectfully took
his leave. Nothing daunted by the repulse, his resolution to
become an actor remained unaltered.
But the stage as a vocation was not viewed in a favourable
light by reputable families in those days, and Mrs. Brooke, after
numerous consultations with friends and relatives, refused to
countenance the project. Her son, however, was adamant, and
only renewed his supplications and entreaties. At last, finding
it perfectly useless to oppose the bent of his genius, the good
lady gave way to his importunities, and " saying she would ne'er
consent, consented."
A few days afterwards a tall, fair-complexioned youth of
fourteen, with dark grey eyes and silken locks of a striking golden
brown hue, was ushered into the august presence of Calcraft, the
manager of the Dublin Theatre, and proceeded to astonish that
gentleman by requesting that he might be allowed to appear
as William Tell. Calcraft at the outset felt much inclined to
show the rash intruder the door ; but Master Gus. by dint of
persuasiveness and resolute bearing induced the autocrat to give
a patient hearing to his recitation of " Tell to his native
mountains." Considerably to the manager's surprise the lad
began the well-worn lines in a voice clear, firm, and musical,
and witliout the sliglitest admixture of the brogue which had
added to the glamour of liis persuasive powers in the preliminary
passage at arms. He noticed, too, that the youngster declaimed
witli good discretion jmd emphasis, suiting the action to the
word with commendable neatness and precision. Puzzled to
know what to say to the supplicant, the manager called in his
Young Bosdi. 9
wife, who listened with interest to a repetition of the passage,
and rewarded the embryonic tragedian with some bread- and jam
and a glass of wine. A vague promise of a distant engagement
followed, after which Calcraft dismissed liis strange visitant.
But the hiterview was ultimately to accomplish its purpose.
Months rolled by. Edmund Kean, who had contracted to appear
in Dublin during the Easter week of 1833, found himself unable
to fulfil the engagement owing to rapidly failing health. Calcraft,
at his wits' end to know how to secure a novelty at such a
short notice, suddenly bethought him of his youthful visitor of
the previous year. Playgoers had not yet subjugated that
morbid hankering after young Roscii, which had its origin in
the precocious histrionic talents of the marvellous Betty boy-
Quite a host of infant phenomena had followed in his train ;
and so recently as 1824, one Master Joseph Burke, a child
of five, had placed Tom Thumb in Dublin to crowded houses.
Others, too, of lesser note, such as Clara Fisher and little Miss
Mudie, were in the enjoyment of a fair measure of success
in the provinces. It is rational to infer that knowledge of
these facts urged upon Calcraft the advisability, in his dilemma,
of giving Master Brooke a trial. At any rate, to the boy's
inexpressible delight, negotiations were at once opened up, with
the result that his first appearance was fixed for Easter Tuesday,
in the part of Williatn Tell. Those were anxious days in the
Brooke household. Endowed as he was, however, with a
remarkably quick study, Master Gus. had little difiiculty, under
his mother's supervision, in swallowing the various parts in which
arrangements had been made for his appearance. Sometimes he
would slip away to Howth to give his lungs free play upon the hill.
At others he would become the prey of great fits of abstraction,
and would loll for hours upon the sofa utterly oblivious to his
surroundings. Although extremely methodical in his habits under
normal aspects, it was difficult at such periods to make him
remember his meal hours. Interrogations and remonstrances
were alike ignored until such time as whatever train of thought
his mind was pursuing had been followed out to the bitter end.
10 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
But at length the eventful day came, and with it the following
announcement in Saunders's Neivs-Letter and Daihj Advertiser: —
THEATRE ROYAL.
EXTRAORDINARY NOVELTY.
This present Evening, April 9th, 1S33, their Majesties' Servants will
perform Sheridan Knowles' Historical Drama of
William Tell, the Hero of Switzerland.
William Tell by a Young Gentleman under 14 years of age. Emma,
Miss Huddart.
A Pas de deux by Master and Miss Harvey.
The Entertainment will conclude with (second time these seven years)
the Grand Melodramatic Spectacle of
The Forty Thieves.
The Miss Huddart here referred to was afterwards better
known to fame as ]\Irs. Warner the celebrated tragic actress.
Calcraft would have acted more wisely had he chosen some
lady of less robust frame to play the leading female characters
during Master Brooke's engagement. Frequently when the
exigencies of the piece required that Miss Huddart should faint
or tlu'ow lievself into the hero's arms, poor Gustavus had
extreme difiiculty in preserving his equilibrium, and the situation
never occurred without a titter on the part of the audience. As
for the remainder of the cast, Mr. King was the Gesler ; Miss
Harvey, Albert ; David Kees, Strutt ; and the other characters
were principally supported by Messrs. Browne, Barry, Shuter,
Coleman, Stodhart, Henry, Lambart, Shean, and Mrs. Pettingal.
" On last evening," says the Freeman's Jnunial of April 10,
" the young debutant, who has been much spoken of, made his
first appearance in the difficult character of William Tell. Tlie
powerful impression whicli ^Ir. Macready's recent personation of
the hero of Hwitzerland nmst have left on the public mind was
necessarily unfavourable for the youthful aspirant for dramatic
eminence. His performance was very creditable for so young
and so inexperienced an assumer of the buskin — occasionally,
indeed we might hay very frequently, it rose to a very high
h^ird Ajipcarance. 1 1
degree of merit, and g.ovo promise of future excellence wliicli, if
the indication of dramatic talent which he evinced be not very
deceitful, will ripen at a future period into a fair harvest
of fame. To an agreeable face and a form whicli for the
young gentleman's years is well proportioned and ratlier gracefully
moulded, he adds respectable knowledge of the diflicult secret
of acquiring what is, in trulli, a considerable advance in
histrionic science, appropriateness of gesture and attitude, and
all the other almost imperceptible niceties which tend to produce
what is termed stage effect. For his voice we cannot say so
much ; it is clear and sufliciently loud, but shrill, and occasionally
rather unmusical ; its pitch was generally too high, and, at the
very striking passages, when lie is carried off bound by the
satellites of Gesler, liis repetition of the epithet ' slave,' three
separate times, in a shrill and grating key, produced an effect
which was very nearly dispelling our first illusions, and exciting
an ill-timed laugh. The address to the mountains of Switzerland
was given with good effect, and we would particularise the scene
in whicli Gesler's cap is raised for the obeisance of the Swiss
serfs as a piece of acting that does very considerable honour to
the young gentleman, to whose name we are sorry that we
cannot give publicity. One remark more we will make in the
hope that, if it be attended to, it will add considerably to the
effect of the young tragedian's efforts. The tone of his voice is
occasionally well suited to the expression of intense feeling in
the numerous passages calculated to call forth the very depth of
pain ; but the muscles of his face are as immovable as if they
were formed of marble or adamant. The very first object of
his study should be to impart at least a reasonable portion of
expression to his countenance. On Friday he will appear in the
arduous character of Virginius (by the way, he is a close copyist
of Macready, as well in his style of acting as in the selection of
his pieces). Two such attempts within such a limited period of
time are sullicient proof that the talented young dilnitioit is neither
destitute of considerable powers nor of the consciousness of their
possession."
12 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
Subsequently, in noticing Master Brooke's second appearance,
the same paper railed at the blind partiality of the boy's friends
in making him enact such unsuitable characters, and advised
his withdrawal from the stage till his voice had reached its fulness
and his figure its maturity, and, above all, till by study and
observation he could discriminate for himself, and conceive a
character instead of copying it. "Last night," says Saunders's
Neivs- Letter, of Saturday, April 13, in very much the same
strain, "Last night we were spectators of the novel and interesting
exhibition of the performance of Virginius by a boy not yet
fourteen years of age. The enactment of such a character is in
itself a task requiring the powers of a first rate actor, and we
doubt if ever Sheridan Knowles or Macread}^ felt fully satisfied
with their personation of the Koman father. It was not, therefore,
to be expected that a mere boy could do justice to the manlike
sentiments, the matured actions and passions of Virginius, and
William Tell — the two arduous and heroic roles which this young
aspirant for dramatic fame has selected as his stepping stone.
His tones and gestures must necessarily be much weaker than what
the parts require for proper scene illusion; and his personation
of the impassioned father, or the vengeful patriot, must all
consequently be (as the statuaries express it) ' far less than
life,' and giving birth more to smiles than sympathy at the
assumption. These tragic representations are, therefore, more
properly matters of curiosity than of any deeper feeling ; and in
this view we are willing to concede that Master Brooke (for
such we understand is his name) performed both characters
better than we could possibly have expected ; and evinces,
altogether, a tact for scene oratory that gives fair promise
of ultimate success if he perseveres in making the stage his
profession. His memory is, in general, excellent ; his confidence
and self-possession never fail him ; his conceptions of the authors'
feelings, as clear as falls to the lot of childhood ; and his action,
which seems modelled on Mr. Macready's, partakes much of its
graceful and temperate style. On Tuesday night, as William
Tell, he was unfortunately chained too short in the scene where
Early Press Notices. 13
Gesler confronts him with his son (Miss Harvey), and he could
scarcely lay his hand upon her head."
Simultaneously with the appearance of the above, a local
satirical journal (according to Ponsonby's '• History of the Theatre
Royal, Dubhn," 1870) came out with the following lines :~
"An 'under fourteen years' young gentleman,
On Tuesday, made on stage his first congue
As William Tell, and through his glib part ran.
Such as one schoolboy out of every three.
If taught and drilled so, might ; no one but can
Admire the boy : but then, to you and me,
Who've seen Macready, it is quite bewildering
To have our best parts mimicked thus by children,
" Last night young jMaster Brooke, our bold aspirant,
Sought, as Virginius, more dramatic fame !
His daughter slew— grew mad — then choked the tyrant.
Swearing that kings were one and all the same :
Sobbing aloud, with most pathetic high rant.
And vowing vengeance in a voice as tame
As a young bleating lamb, or dove a-cooing.
Poor child ! his friends will be his sure undoing."
Under date Wednesday, April 17, we find the announcement
in Saunders's News-Letter — " Most positively the last appearance,
but one, of Master Gnstavus V. Brooke, who has been received
with most enthusiastic applause." He appeared on this occasion
as Young Norval, " a character," according to the Freewnn's
Journal, "peculiarly suited to the young gentleman's powers,
and one in which he acquitted himself in such a manner as to
call down the general applause of a well-attended house." An
extra attraction was afforded on this occasion by the appearance
of W. H. Russell, Brooke's elocution master, who gave imitations
of Kean as Othello, Young as Hotspur, Macready as Virginius,
and Calcraft (the lessee) as Roderick Dhu.
On Tuesday, April 23, Master Brooke played Frederick in
Lovers' Vows, to the Amelia Wildenhaim of Miss Huddart.
After this he made no appearance until the 2nd of May, when he
took his benefit to a well-filled house. This ended the Dublin
engagement. In those days of half-price at nine o'clock, when
14 Gusfavus VaugJian Brooke.
the curtain usually rose at a quarter-past seven, playgoers
liked value for their money, and generally got it. Hence there
was a heavy bill on this occasion, Brooke's share in which
consisted of two parts — Rolla in Pizzaro, and Teddy the
Tiler in the well-known farce. This, his first appearance in an
Irish character, was probably made at the instigation of friends
in generous rivah'y with Master Burke, who, by dint of a good
brogue and much natural intelligence, had effected his biggest
hit in Irish comedy.
The result of his first appearance in his native city was
such as to confirm young Brooke in his resolution to follow the
stage as a profession. His decision fell like a bomb among
his old schoolfellows, who had been taught to look upon the
player's calling as an awful degradation for a gentleman's son —
the only parallel for which could be found in the departure of a
lady from the paths of virtue. So prejudicial, indeed, was the
efiect of Master Gus.'s action to the interests of the Academy
that the Eev. William Jones thouglit it advisable to transfer his
goods and chattels to Eathfarnham. To the sneers and entreaties
of his friends young Brooke was alike obdurate, and moreover
showed a lofty contempt for tlie proprieties by refusing (as was
suggested for his family's sake) to adopt a nom de theatre. His
mother, however, remained loyal to him throughout, and, after
packing off llie other children to boarding schools, prepared to
accompany him on a tour of the principal provincial theatres ;
much the same plan of campaign being adopted as that followed
by young Betty in 1803. Ever industrious in his studies, the boy
mastered several new parts while travelling, and these proved very
acceptable additions to his repertory. After a brief sojourn at
Limerick, we find him in August appearing at Londonderry,
where Seymour the comedian had gathered together a fairly
tolerable stock company. 'i'he l>crii/ Jonnutl of Tuesday,
August 27, ill noticing liis Wilham Tell and Young Norval,
considered that "The Dublin Iloscius," as he was then styled,
displayed talents of tlie first order as an actor. The critic
condemned his tendency to over-emphasize, but confessed that
One Touch of Nature, 15
blemishes were overlooked amid the many good points made.
" He possesses an intellectual countenance ; his figure, though
slight, is good ; his action animated and convincing ; indeed his
tout ensemble is truly prepossessing ; and Master Brooke with
industry, care, and perseverance bids fair to arrive at the top of
his profession." Subsequently he appeared as Rolla, and on
Wednesday, September 1, took a benefit, when he played the
name-parts in Richard III. and Teildi/ the Tiler. This was
announced as his last appearance, but he took another benefit
on Friday, Sept. 20, playing Durimel in 'I'lif Point of Hono^ir.
" Tickets to be liad of Master Brooke at 26 Ferry quay Street."
An anecdote related by James Morris (one of Brooke's life-
long friends), hi his " Recollections of Ayr Theatricals" (1872),
shows that in after years the circumstance of Brooke having
played Irish characters in his tyro days had been completely
forgotten. " It was as a tragedian," writes Morris, " that he
became so widely known and his splendid talents so highly
appreciated, and yet the ' gentleman Irishman ' was the character
in which he was most at home, and truly liked. A little incident
in his professional life, in proof of his partiality for that particular
u-alk, is worth notice, and became the means of ' bringing him
out ' on a particular occasion, for one night in an Irish afterpiece.
Having arrived at Liverpool to commence a ten days' ' starring '
engagement in one of the theatres there, he was passing through
the lobby towards the green-room, for the double purpose of seeing
the manager and meeting as usual the outgoing star, when his
attention was attracted to a person sitting before the fire, apparently
in great distress. Brooke, being a humane man, inquired the
cause of the man's sorrow, which he thus explained : — ' I had
given unwearied attendance upon Mr. during his
engagement, and he, knowing that I have a large family, and from
other circumstances, promised to act for my benefit in the after-
piece to-morrow evening the character of Mr. O'Callaghan in the
Irish piece of his ' Last Legs '; but he has just informed me that
he requires to leave to-morrow.' ' Then,' says Brooke, ' put my
name in the bill for O'Callaghan, m the afterpiece.' Witli an
16 Gustavus Vaughan Broolce.
expression of gratitude the man replied — ' That will da me no
(food. The public would not come out for i/ou .' ' ' Never fear,'
says Brooke, ' give it a trial, and a few may turn out for a
laugh at my presumption, and it will, at all events, serve your
present purpose.' The change was made accordingly, and a good
house was the result, many theatrical critics being present, who
had a desire to witness the ' breakdown ' of an eminent tragedian
in an attempt to assume a character in which his talented
predecessor had carried all before him. It turned out otherwise,
however, and the applause that greeted him was great. It may
be noticed that the ' Irish star ' did not depart next day, as he
intended, but remained to witness from the gallery, incog., the
discomfiture, as he anticipated, of a young competing Paddy."
With so much enthusiasm was young Brooke received at
Glasgow that, after fulfilling his original engagement of twelve
nights, he was at once re-engaged on increased terms. On
Friday, May 2nd, 1831, he made his first appearance at the
Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, as Selim in Barharossa, the
announcements referring to him as " Master Brooke, whose
performances in the Theatres Royal, Dublin and Glasgow, have
distinguished him as the most talented youth that has appeared
since the days of the young Roscius." After the following evening
the theatre remained closed for a fortnight. On the 16th of the
month, however, Brooke took his benefit, and made his farewell
bow, appearing as Frederick in Lovers' Vows; Virginius in the
third and fourth acts of K lowles' tragedy; and in the last
act of Uichard III. Shortly afterwards he made his first
appearance in Dumfries, where he subsequently became a great
favourite, and grew to be known as "the second Edmund Kean."
Indeed, his popularity there was such that a street adjoining
the theatre was eventually named after hiui. There are those
Btill living in the town who have keen recollections of the great
impression created during this first visit, when the theatre was
crowded nightly, and of seeing the tall, slender, pale-faced youth
walking quietly through the streets, accompanied by his lady
mother.
First Appearance in London. 17
Meanwhile, his fame liad reached the metropolis, and
negotiations with the proprietor of the Victoria Theatre resulted
in an engagement. But the statement so frequently made in
various accounts of Brooke's life that on his first appearance in
London he played Virginius tri-weekly for a month, and gave
complete satisfaction, is as far from the truth as the date (1837)
usually assigned to the event.
Here is the announcement of Brooke's appearance : —
ROYAL VICTORIA THEATRE.
The Proprietor has the greate^st pleasure' in announcing that his efforts
to improve tlie interior of tlie theatre have met with the most enthusiastic
approbation from the Public and the Press, which unanimously pronounces
the Victoria to be the most elegant tiieatre in Europe. In order to fulfil
his pledge to the introduction of novelty, he has the lionour to announce
the appearance of the lIluiiUNiAN Roscius, fourteen years of age, who
will make his first appearance on the London Stage in the character of
Virginius.
This evening (Thursday), October 2, will be performed
\'lltGlNlUS.
Appius Claudius, Mr. Selby ; Caius Claudius, Mr. Griffith ; Virginius,
Master Broolce ; and Virginia, Miss P. llorton.
At the end of the play will be exhibited the Looking Glass Curtain,
in front of which the celebrated Ranio Samee will go llnough a \ariety
of extraordinary and novel Feats.
After which The Man ivitli the Carpet Bag. Pluckwell, Mr. Doyne;
Wrangle, Mr. Forrester ; Grab, Mr. W. Keene ; Grimes, Mr. Mitchell ;
and Harriett, Miss Foster. To conclude with
Caught Courting; t)i:, Juno by Jove.
On the whole, the performance attracted little critical
attention, and was passed over unnoticed hy The Times, The
Sun, and Tlie Observer. "Last night at this house," says the
Mornhuj Advertiser of Friday, October 3, 1834, " the third, fourth,
and fifth acts of Virginius were produced, and introduced
for the first time to a metropolitan audience the Hibernian
Roscius, Master Brooke, who, the bills inform us, is only fourteen
years of age. The youth is evidently of tender years, but
seemingly of some strength of mind ; we would say he is rather
tall of his years, but is an exceedingly clever boy, and evinces
vast precocity of talent — that is, to see him perform, we would
18 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
never for a moment entertain suspicion that he had been merely
drilled to a task. His figure is neat, his demeanour graceful,
and he walks the stage with an air of experience and sufficiency
that bespeaks his performance is the emanation of his own mind.
The character of ^^irginius, which he personated, was a severe
ordeal for so young an actor to be tried by. It requires so
much passion and energy, and the continuance of so many
impassioned scenes in rapid succession draw heavily on the
physical force of the performer ; and this was evidently felt by
Master Brooke ; wherever his speech was of any material length
he had scarcely sufficient strength remaining at the finish to
make himself distinctly heard all over the house. It might
naturally be supposed, for youths who become actors, that they
ought to select juvenile parts ; but unfortunately most of them
— such as Norval in Douglas, Frederick in Lovers' Vows, and
those of this class — require very superior skill in the profession
indeed, to make them tell upon an audience, and consequently the
very young actor, if gifted with superior talent, is likely to
produce a more striking effect in such parts as Virginius, and
become an object of wonder, and be much more attractive than
if be played with better judgment a quieter character. . . .
The performance of young Brooke was astonishingly neat, and
his business and bearing altogether was manly and characteristic,
far exceeding what could be expected from a boy of his years.
Those who are fond of witnessing essays of precocious genius
will experience a great treat in seeing the Hibernian Roscius.
"The play was cast with the whole strength of the
company, and was altogether produced in excellent style. At
the conclusion Master Brooke came forward and announced the
piece for repetition amidst immense applause. The young
gentleman met a most flattering reception from a very crowded
house."
Brooke's success, however, was purely one of esteem. Only
five or six performances of Virfihmts were given ; and after the
ensuing week tlio name of tlie Hibernian Roscius disappears from
the bill. On the second nigjit of the engagement the boy was
A Snccess of Ef^fppw. 19
too ill to appear. There was a large house, and the audience
grew so clamorous that Elton had to be sent for with the
view of his playing Virginius. Ikit the messenger returned with
the intelligence that the actor was not to be found, and
the piece was then changed. On Monday, October 6, a new
melodrama, called " The Purse of Alms, or, The Mendicant
Monk," saw the light. The Mornimi Chronich' of the following
day remarks: — "After tlie melodrama Vinji>ii'i(s was produced,
the part of Virginius being undertaken by a Master Brook,
yclept the Hibernian Roscius. . . . We hardly know how
we can better characterise the performance of this young aspirant
to tragic fame than by saying, as Dr. Johnson said of the bear
that danced upon its hind legs — ' He did not do it well, but
the wonder was that he did it at all.' "
It was certainly strange that Brooke's first appearance in
London should prove equally inauspicious with that of George
Frederick Cooke and Edmund Kean, the chequered course of
whose lives bore such a marked resemblance to his own. Nor
does the coincidence end there. As in the case of those fiery-
eyed geniuses, when next he appeared in the metropolis (after
much tedious but eminently useful strolling), it was to take the
town by storm and be hailed as the Coming Man !
lj ^^tgB^[^|g5^B^ljE^l^f5g^[4^3fgsHBaf5CH ^" T3^aE^l^ lMii3^^^
!vtel=^^5E^b^lJE^l^^aaBt3lMli^5aEia^aaBTa^5E^Mjt5ElB^l^
CHAPTER II
1834—1841.
Adventure at Dover — " Exit ' The Hibernian Roscius '; Enter Mr. Gustavus
Brooke, Tragedian "— The Converted Manager — Re-appearance in
Dublin — First Meeting witli Mr. George Coppin — Brooke's Quick
Study and Wonderful Memory — Remarks on his Delivery and Stage
Deportment — His Physical Characteristics — Lord Lytton on his Claude
Melnotte — Scene at the Birmingham Theatre— Two Tressels in the
Field — Miss Marie Duret— Brooke's Drury Lane Engagement with
Macready — Its Sudden Termination.
TRIFLING as had been the success of the metropoHtan
engagemeut, it at least enabled our youthful hero to
become attached, for a time, to the Kent circuit, where he
studied assiduously, and very soon added several new characters
to his repertory. In some pleasing recollections of that period,
contributed to the Kr/i Almanack for 1881, Mr. Creswick, who
was stage manager at the Dover Theatre, and had only just
attained his majority, tells us that Brooke wore " a short jacket
and peaked cap, and looked very boyish. He was announced as
the young Roscius (?) and well deserved the name." Besides
appearing in most of his old parts, he also played Looney
M'Twolter in the well-known Irish farce, and Dennis Brulgruddery
in Johi Bull. The theatre only being open four nights a-week,
Creswick, Ternan, and J. P>arrett took advantage of an off-day
to accompany the youthful star on his first visit to Shakespeare's
cliif. "He was brimful of excitement," writes Creswick, "and
shouted, ran about, and climbed like a wild goat. He was then
very wild — no one but his lady mother could tamo him." There
was a very exciting termination to the day's outing. Retracing
their steps at a late hoiu', the little band came across a house
A Full-fed (jp(l Tra(ipAian. 21
on fire, down a narrow street in the siiburbs of tlie old town,
and were instrumental in saving the lives of a woman and child
from imminent destruction.
In September, 1835, Master Brooke played a few nights at
Leeds, where he made the acquaintance of a brilliant coterie of
artists, in Chippendale, Compton, H, ]\Iellon, Chute (afterwards
the Bristol manager), and Miss E. Lee, better known now as Mrs.
Leigh Murray. ^Yith IMiss Allison, who played Amelia to his
Frederick in Lovers' Voirs, he was afterwards to find himself
prominently associated at the Marylebone, when the lady and he
were conjointly starred there in 1850. She was then to be recognised
as Mrs. Seymour, the faithful friend of Charles Reade.
Although Brooke had now reached an age when he could no
longer, with consistency, pose as "The Hibernian Roscius," no
reliable record is extant to show that he ever went through the
drudgery of stock work in any minor capacity. At this juncture,
Fate merely wrote the stage direction — " Exit ' The Hibernian
Roscius'; enter Mr. Gustavus V. Brooke, tragedian." Li this
latter capacity we find him starring at the Theatre Royal,
Glasgow, early in February, 1836, in conjunction with Miss
Clifton (of Drury Lane, Covent Garden, and the principal
American theatres) and Mr, Mackay, the celebrated representative
of Scottish characters. On Saturday, February 6, Brooke
appeared as Henry Morton in Jlw Battle of Botlmell Jin)/, and
as George Douglas, of Lochleven, in another national drama,
called Mary Queen of Scots, or LocJdeven Castle. Mackay was in
the cast of both pieces, and Miss Clifton played the name-part
in the latter. During this engagement, which extended over a
fortnight, Brooke appeared from time to time as Rob Roy,
The Stranger, George Staunton f The Heart of Midlothian),
and as Edgar Ravenswood in The Bride of Latinnermoor. It is
noteworthy that during the next thirty years the last-mentioned
impersonation remained one of his most popular with provincial
audiences, and was selected by him for his benefit on the
penultimate night of his appearance on the stage. As early as
this period, too, he had begun to study the character in which
22 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
he was destined to make the hit of his Hfe, at the Olympic It
was certainly something of an achievement for a youth of
eighteen to give an acceptable rendering of the arduous and
trying role of Othello. On Monday, April 11, he made his first
appearance in Kilmarnock, playing there under the management
of a Mr. Breyer, for six nights, in Richard III., Douglas, Othello,
Macbeth, and other pieces. Seven months afterwards we find
him at Perth, where he appeared, presumably for the first time,
as Harry Dornton in The Road to Ruin. About this period,
also, he played at Hawick for a few nights, under the
management of Mr. W. Palmer, and was reminded of his
sojourn there while performing in Manchester in the July of
1854, by the receipt of a letter from the quondam manager, who
intimated that he had exchanged the boards for the pulpit, and,
after the approved manner of such zealots, " most respectfully
and earnestly begged his attention to the Gospel of Salvation."
Brooke, who was accustomed to receive the most extraordinary
communications, evidently took the appeal in good part ; the
letter in which it was made is preserved to this day.
Although upwards of four years had elapsed since Brooke
made his first appearance in Dublin, the critics, on his return
to his native eity, in the October of 1837, still refused to listen
to the voice of the charmer. " It is a very trite observation,"
says Saunders's Daihj Neivs-Letter, of Thursday, October 26,
" that ' comparisons are odious ' ; but in some instances they
cannot but be made, even if we were disposed to avoid resorting
to such means of testing merit. The character of Virginius is
so identified with the recollections of Mr. Macready, that when
any other actor undertakes to represent it he must expect to
combat with prejudices already formed, and opinions too deeply
seated to be easily directed into another channel. But Mr.
Brooke, who appeared last night as the hero of Knowles's
tragedy, provoked comparison, for such a palpable imitation of a
groat master was never seen. It was an outline upon tracing
paper of a beautiful picture, suggesting some idea of the original,
but wanting iho nature, the vividness, and reality which should
Second Dublin Enfjagement. 23
impart life to the whole. Mr. Urooke has several qualifications
for an actor ; his voice is of a good quality, when too much is
not exacted from it ; his appearance is in his favour ; and he has
had sufficient experience to make him acquainted with what is
generally designated the business of the stage, the knowledge of
which, although it alone can never lead, may yet conduce to
success. Why, then, lose his identity in wearing the mask of
another ? The ancients had their shades, who servilely followed
them to their feasts, content to take share of what was given
them, without much regard to reputation. But is that a reason
why a performer upon the mimic stage should endeavour to
obtain the sweets of popular applause upon grounds apart from
his own intrinsic merit ? We would not have spoken thus of
Mr. Brooke did we not conceive that he has merit, and perhaps
in some other character, less linked with powerful associations,
he may prove deserving of higher praise. It is but justice
to remark that he was greatly applauded by the audience."
Brooke's Ion, on the following Saturday, pleased the knights
of the quill somewhat better ; but although he remained until
the 6th of November, and played Hamlet, Young Norval, and
Julian St. Pierre to crowded houses, the critical thermometer
never rose to summer-heat. On the 13th following we find him
commencing a fortnight's engagement at Sheffield, where he
quite exhausted his repertory, besides appearing in several
new parts — Shylock, Sir Edward Mortimer, Jaffier, and Octavian
in The Mountaineers, among the number. Here, too, he gave
one of his earliest performances of Eomeo — then and for some
time afterwards a very fine impersonation ; but one he was
injudicious enough to repeat in later years, when his style and
figure had grown utterly unsuited to the character.
During Brooke's sojourn at Sheffield he had as coadjutors
Messrs. Brown, King, and Gibson, the celebrated Adelphi panto-
mimists, who figured prominently in the pantomime of Harlequin
Marjertj Daw, which usually brought the evening's entertainment
to a close. Judging by the frequency with which this worthy
trio appeared as Second Actor, Bernardo and Francisco, a}id
24 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
other parts in support of the tragedian, the resources of the
local stock company were apparently of the slenderest. By the
way, it is more than likely that in the !Mr. Coppin who played
Osric and Montano, Brooke for the first time found himself
associated with the gentleman whose fortunes were subsequently
to become so prominently identified with his own in the colonies.
An engagement in all respects noteworthy terminated on
December 1, when Brooke took his benefit, playing the name-
part in Henri/ V., and Fitz-James in The Lady of the Lake; or,
the Knight of Snowdon. Nine nights previously he had performed
lago, for the first time on any stage, to the Othello of Mude.
In connection with this impersonation (by many of Brooke's
admirers considered his best) Mr. Coleman, in relating an
unhappy incident which occurred in the year 1864, tells us,
strangely enough, that "he had never mastered the words of
lago textually, and was always afraid of being caught tripping
with the text." Apart from the fact that from this time onwards
Brooke was frequently seen in the part, and even played it at Drury
Lane in 1853 — when his easy nonchalance and conversational
flippancy aroused the bile of the critics — there is evidently
considerable truth in ]\Ir. Coleman's statement. Nature, in a
prodigal mood, had nobly dowered him, and, as if jealous of
the encroachments of art, had scattered gifts which eventually
proved more of a curse than a blessing. Student in the sense
that John Kemble was student he never could be. His
genial, sunny, happy-go-lucky nature mihtated against this ; and
the barrier was rendered complete by a quickness of study and
a retentiveness of memory well-nigh unparalleled. Mr. Morris,
in the little book already referred to, relates that during Brooke's
engagement in Glasgow in 1844, a gentleman, aware of his
" peculiarly retentive memory, offered him one hundred guineas
if lie would undertake to read and repeat, on the same evening,
the 'Glasgow Herald' published that morning. He wrote to
ask my opinion, teUing mo tliat ho was confident of success;
but. as 1 advised hnn strongly against making the attempt,
the matter went no fartlier."
Playing in Belfast. 25
The late Mr. Tom Chambers, treasurer of the Theatre
Royal, Mancliester, used to relate how Brooke studied Richard
III. from a penny copy and learnt the part with all the erroi's
and misprints. But there is great reason to doubt the story,
because, in the first place, the tragedy had become part and
parcel of Brooke's repertory long before he met the narrator.
Moreover, the source was a jaundiced one, as Chambers had
conceived a dislike to Brooke, and once spoke disrespectfully of
him in public. On somewhat better authority, however, is it
related that poor Gus. was at one time prone to make nonsense
of Othello's speech — " Oh ! the curse of marriage, that we can
call these delicate creatures ours and not their appetites," by
substituting the word innocent in place of " delicate."
On Tuesday, January 23, 1888, Brooke made his first
ai)pearancc in Belfast — a city where he rapidly became the
spoiled child of the play-going fraternity, and where his memory
is still affectionately cherished. Commenting on his impersonation
of Ion in Talfourd's tragedy, the Belfast News- Letter (which at
that time seldom noticed the theatre) said:— "To personate the
hero of the play with proper efl'ect requires a highly cultivated
taste, great professional experience, and a youthful and interesting
appearance — all of which Mr. Brooke possesses ; nor have we
ever seen a character more felicitously embodied. The audience
seemed fully aware of the treat i)rovided for them, and evinced
it by their earnest attention and warm applause." After his
appearance in three characters, the Northern Whii/ of January oO
remarked — '* The performances of Mr. Gustavus Brooke, ue
are glad to say, continue to attract large audiences ; and
judging from the high praise bestowed on his acting by some of
our contemporaries, and particularly by the Scottish press, his
claims upon the patronage of the lovers of the drama are by no
means mideserved. Mr. Brooke, though he has scarcely reached
that period of life when either the judgment or the taste of the
actor can be expected to be perfectly matured, may yet be
regarded somewhat as a veteran in the theatrical ranks, having
entered upon his career at an age when boys of less brilliant
26 Gastavus Vaughan Brooke.
parts are usually sent to school. While, therefore, we are disposed
to be lenient towards the faults of this young and rising actor,
in candour we cannot ascribe them all to inexperience in his
profession. We point out what we regard as his faults the more
freely because we believe they are shared in common with actors
of far higher pretensions. We allude to that constant aiming at
effect by means of striking and picturesque attitudes, which is
certainly better suited to the melodrama than to Shakespeare's
heroes. This remark is particularly applicable to Mr. Brooke's
representation of Othello on Tuesday evening, which in some
respects possessed no ordinary merit. It was, however, marked
throughout by a manner which betrayed the effect of study in
every look and gesture, and a stage strut which would better befit
the dignity of a burgomaster than that of the noble-minded Moor
of Venice. With the exception of these defects, he manifests high
capabilities as a tragedian; and in some of the more passionate
scenes he displayed a power we have rarely seen surpassed.
We were particularly pleased with his admirable delivery of
Othello's apology." Two days later the same critic considers his
voice "unquestionably fine; but he partakes too much of the
spouter— or, if it pleases him better, the elocutionist ; and at
times there is a want of nature in his tones, without which the
finest declamation falls feebly on the heart." Little idea of his
increasing popularity with each successive appearance can be
gleaned from these critical notices. It is best evidenced,
however, in an extension of the original engagement during
which he appeared in several new parts. Of these the
most noteworthy were, Selim in an Eastern romantic drama
called The Bride of Abijdos ; Rosenberg in the melodrama of I'Ula
Uosenbertj: Julio in 'The Foundlinq of Messina : Sir Thomas Clifford
in 'J'/ic Hxinrhbdck : a)id Quasimodo in Fitzball's Esmeralda.
Ill connection with the Northern Whiffs strictures on his
general style of acting, there can be little doubt that his
matchless voice — never afterwards so resonant and musical as
at this period — led him in his early and more exuberant days
to commit many elocutionary extravagances. Wrote "An Old
His Elocutionary Vices. 27
Fasliioned Playgoer," in some pleasing reminiscences of the
tragedian, whicli went the round of the press shortly after the
loss of the London: — "A tolerable imitator of Brooke — and
there are one or two of them on and off the stage — could
recite several passages, notably the ' put out the light '
speech in Othello, in whicli his vocal antics were of the
most startling kind. First a few words were delivered in
that tone of melting emotion which lie made so effective ; then
his delivery rose to a fanciful falsetto, like scarcely anything
in nature, and lastly it fell to a depth entirely sui ijcneris and
entirely unnatural. Ho, again, when as Sir Giles Over-reach
he declared that he cared for nothing in heaven or hell, Mr.
Brooke's gradual descent to unimagined depths of bass elocution
was really not a whit more intelligent than the tom-H de force
of a li(i>iS(> profondo in an opera. Contrast these examples with
his later delivery of Othello's apology, and of the ' undone
widow' speech in the New ICr/// to Fa;/ Old Debts, and you
will understand that it is quite possible Brooke's voice, while
establishing his fame, led him to play tricks with its foundations
— the failure of his splendid organ synchronised, accidentally or
otherwise, with a marked improvement of his latterly most
perfect style."
By an irony of circumstance most of the other features
in his acting considered as blemishes by the Belfast
critic, were among those which ultimately assisted in the
establishment of his reputation. In other eyes the "stage
strut " (than which nothing could have been more leonine and
rhythmic) became the very poetry of motion. Most indubitably
not a little of his success was due to the graceful facility with
which he assumed a series of picturesque and utterly unstilted
attitudes. So natural, indeed, was this posing to the actor, that
one might have photographed him at any moment with the
certainty of obtaining an admirable picture. Turning the faculty
to most advantage in classical characters like Virgmius, Brutus,
and Coriolanus, Brooke flashed upon the spectator a collocation
of apparently unstudied attitudes, which, in the words of an
28 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
admirer, " might have formed an extensive gallery of antique
models."
A critical stage had now been reached in the tragedian's
career. His mother, who never cared much for the strolling
life, and pined for the society of her other children, deemed
it expedient, as soon as he had attained his majority, to leave
him to his own resources. Brool^e did his best to repay all
her loving kindness and attention by voluntarily resigning all
claims upon her slender jointure : a generous action on his
part, as it was doubtful whether the lady had the power of
willing it.
Inevitable and just as was Mrs. Brooke's proceeding, it was
none the less regretable. It was Hazlitt who, in defending
the bohemian habits of actors, once said, " A man of genius
is not a machine," and then went on to argue that " the
intellectual excitement inseparable from those professions which
call forth all our sensibility to pleasure and pain, requires some
corresponding physical excitement to support our failure, and
not a little to allay the ferment of the spirits attendant on
success." Actors worthy of their salt are, as a rule, men of
strong impulses and strong passions ; possessing a keen sense
of pleasure and full of the joy of living. Brooke was no
exception to the number. The same frank, genial, good nature
which earned for him the respect and friendship of all whom
chance threw in his way rendered him an easy prey to the
fascinations of convivality. To the proverbial improvidence of
a calling whose followers, seeing no way to make money breed
money, for the most part live only in the Present, he added a
large-hearted charity, which never turned a deaf ear to the
distressed. Hence the man that made thousands seldom had a
coin in his pocket. Ilin future career sulYored somewhat, like-
wise, from the excessive attention which his superb manliness
won from the fair sex.
The tallest of tragedians, standing about five feet ten inclics,
his figure had now attained its ripeness and. tliougli stoutly
built, was extremely graceful \\\ contour. With tho limbs and
/7/.S Claude Mdnotta. 29
features of an Apollo, and the liea'l and shoulders of a
liorcules, Brooke, as he strode the boards majestically in the
'forties, making the theatre resound with tiie music of his voice,
must have presented a picture of manly beauty, tlie like of
which has seldom been seen on the English stage.
During a ten-nights' engagement at Sheffield, commencing
October 29, 1838 (the manager being Mr. W. R. Copeland,
afterwards of the Royal Amphitheatre, Liverpool), Brooke
played a variety of parts, comprising Macbeth, Rolla, Shylock,
Henry V., William Tell, and Ion. After acting three characters
in The Ihide of Ahijdos, he took his benefit on November 9,
when he aired his versatility by appearing as Rory O'More
in the Irish comedy so-called. But the engagement was chiefly
noteworthy for presenting him with an opportunity of making
his first appearance as Claude Melnotte. The La(bj of LijonH was
then, of course, quite a novelty, as it had only seen the light
with Macready in the principal part at Covent Garden in the
February previous. Referring to the production of the play on
November 2, the Sheffield playbill of the following Monday said —
" The Lady of Li/ons was received on Friday evening with the
most unqualified approbation. The interest e.Kcited by its
representation is unprecedented, and at the fall of the curtain
the applause was prolonged till Mr. G. V. Brooke, who was
loudly called for, made his appearance and acknowledged the
flattering testimony of public approval. The Lady of Lyons will
therefore be repeated to-morrow (Tuesday) evening." It was
performed also on Brooke's benefit and last night of acting.
, Everything tends to show that, at this time and for some
years after, our hero was an ideal Claude Melnotte. London,
however, never saw him at his best in the part. When he
played it at the Olympic in 1850, his style had grown too
saturnine for the wild boyish enthusiasm of the ambitious
poet-lover. Mr. James Morris, presumably upon the authority
of the tragedian, relates that " upon one occasion, when Brooke
was performing in Portsmouth, I think, Tlie Ladij of Lyons
appeared on the bills of the day, and the gifted author (now
30 Gustaviis Vaughan Brooke.
Lord Lytton) being in tlie town, was desirous of seeing Claude
Melnotte in new hands, saw the performance, and at its
conclusion waited upon Brooke and paid him the compliment
of declaring that he had not previously seen his ' Claude ' so
well acted."
As illustrative of the interest taken in his impersonation
of this pinchbeck hero, we append some lines sent to Brooke
about this period by a fair wooer of the muses. The tribute
proved so flattering to the tragedian that he had a few copies
struck off for private circulation.
"TO G. v. BROOKE, AS CLAUDE MELNOTTE, IN 'THE LADY OF LYONS.'
" Aye, well has Nature in her mood assigned
Tastes to beguile life's fleeting hours away
By feats of body or by charms of mind,
With flowers of fancy thus to strew our way —
From earth-born fumes to bid our spirits rise
In passions pure as from our native skies.
" While some in arts abstruse would guide the age,
Keflne our manners, our enjoyments cloy.
Deeming life's horoscope a darkened page.
On which no brighter beam marks 'to enjoy.'
Brooke ! it is thine to choose a fairer part,
To guide the moral and to warm the heart.
o^
" As some new star along the vault of heaven
Bursts on the lonely gazer's pensive sight,
Streaming his soul with rays of splendour given
From its own essence — such thou seem'st to-night ;
But vain to trace each passion ray by ray
Like morn's young beauties stealing into day.
" Yes, I beheld thee, as the gard'ner's boy,
Pour tliy first oflering at the shrine of love
To lier, the idol of his youth — his spirit's joy —
Nigh deemed by him a seraph from above ;
Then, in eacii scene of feeling, falsehood, fame,
Still, Brooke I thy eloquence was still the same.
" The favoured .--uitur, tlii; lietrayer's wiles,
Tlie husbanil's agony, as he standi estranged
From all that lie so loves, the very smiles
Of Heaven, an<l earth's bright face are changed
To liim, an<l tlieii but vainly wonls impart
The stern resolve, the rectitude of heart.
Beciting ''The OnfJaicr 31
" Again— the hero from the battle plain,
Who the Ion},' niiilniglit of each liopeless year
Sighed to behold his lr)ved one once again,
With truth unaltered, and with heart .sincere.
Now meets tlie past, the painful past, once more,
And all the anguish of that past is o'er.
" How comes it, Brooke, that thou can'st weave so well
Thy witchery round us, and our senses thrill
As if some syren's charm, some wizard's spell,
Were there to mould our feelings to tliy will-
To bid our youth's impetuous pulses rise,
Or draw bright tears from beauty's gentle eyes?
" But fare thee well ! May fame round thy young brow
Entwine her laurels, till thy course is past.
Still may'st thou siiine admired and loved as now.
May each new scene be happier than the last ;
So may'st thou live, untouched by grief or pain.
Thy talents prized, thy love ne'er breathed in vain."
Marie.*
Nor was this the only outcome of the lady's admiration of
Brooke's talents. Solely on his behalf she wrote the favom'ite
school-boy piece, lite Outlaw, which was first publicly recited
by him during a brief engagement at Belfast, late in the summer
of 1842.
In a " Memoir of Mr. Gustavus Vaughan Brooke," by "H. T,,"
prefixed to the first part of an edition of Shakespeare issued
by the London Printing and Publishing Company in 1854, and
evidently inspired by its subject, the following curious episode
is narrated : —
" While still a mere youth he became a member of the
company performing at the Birmingham Theatre, where he
was concerned in an incident which is worth relating. His
engagement was prolonged for a considerable period, but after
a short time the manager treated him in anything but a
handsome manner. He not only allowed the young actor but
few opportunities of appearing before the public, but omitted
paying him his salary during a period of eight weeks. On the
' Said to have been a Miss Scott, a persistent wooer of the muses ; herself
eventually wooed and won by a gentleman farmer named Henderson, atone
time residing in the neighbourhood of Armagh.
32- Gusfavufi Vaughan Brooke.
last niglit of his engagement he was cast for the comparatively
trifling part of Tressel in IU<hard the Third, Mr. Charles Kean
being to play the blood-thirsty and crafty Glo'ster. During the
afternoon Master Brooke addressed a note of complaint and
remonstrance to the manager on the subject of his financial
claims, and intimated that he should expect the payment of
arrears. The manager either would not or could not pay ; and
in the evening the young actor perceived another person dressed
for Tressel and every wing guarded by the stage carpenters and
friends of the manager. Determined not to be baffled in this
manner, Master Brooke, as soon as he heard the cue given for
the entrance of Tressel, vaulted over the head of one of the
carpenters at the upper entrance, and made his appearance on
the stage, greatly to the astonishment of the King and the
audience, who each beheld two Tressels in the field,
" Great confusion ensued ; and Brooke, advancing to the
footlights, explained the circumstances, and threw himself on
the indulgence of his audience. The sympathy of the spectators
was enlisted on behalf of the lad and he was greeted with
thunders of applause, and with — what was equally acceptable —
a little shower of money. To the repeated demands made from
the wings that he should instantly leave the stage, young Brooke
replied by holding out his hand to the side for his arrears of
salary. At length the money was given to him, and he came
down to the foothghts and leisurely counted it. Finding it was
not correct, he again stretched out liis hand to the wing, and
would not withdraw it until he succeeded in obtaining the full
amount due to him. The play then proceeded ; but the next
night tlie theatre remained unopened. Master Brooke had
ruined the treasury, and the season was closed."
Of this we can only say, si non c vera e hen trovato.
Unfortunately, the utmost endeavours on our part to verify the
details have ended in smoke. Althougli the incident, if true,
must have liappened between 1831 and IHJJU (in which latter year
Mr. Charles Kean loft for America), the general consensus of
opinion among autboritioa on the Birmingham stage runs to the
Rahid Puritanism. 33
effect that Brooke's first appearance in that city was made as a
star, many years after. Mr. Samuel Timmins, who very
considerately sifted the matter to the bottom, points out that
Charles Kean played Richard III. at Birmingham on October
24, 1834. But no evidence is forthcoming to show that Brooke
acted there at that period ; which is not surprising, considering
that he had barely brought his engagement at the Victoria to
a close.
Commencing an extended tour through Ireland at the
Belfast Theatre on Monday, January 21, 1839, Brooke found
a somewhat altered condition of affairs in that city owing to the
crusade which the "unco guid " had unrighteously got up
against poor Burroughs the manager. After making several
indignant references in his advertisements to "the most unjust,
ungenerous, and persevering efforts " that had been made " to
injure his reputation, destroy his prospects, and cause him the
severest and most unmerited losses," the hapless lessee bethought
him of more salutary retaliation, and reviving The Hypocrite,
sarcastically invited his persecutors to call and see their friend
Maw-worm. Peace was then declared. Among the more
noteworthy parts played by Brooke during his fortnight's
sojourn here we find George Barnwell, Rory O'More, P^l Hyder
in a "Grand Eastern Drama," so-called; the three Lockwoods
ni the drama of Tlie Fanner's Pxnj : Reuben Glenroy in
Morton's comedy Town and Country: Petruchio in Katharine
and Petrnrliio ; Alexander the Great in Nat Lee's famous
tragedy; and Duke Aranza in The }I<iney}noon. Mackay, the
great Bailie Nicol Jarvie, was performing there at the same
time, and Brooke for his benefit on January 31 appeared as
Mr. Bromley in Siinjison and Co. Certainly the tragedian, if he
attained enduring popularity at this period in Belfast and
the minor towns of the north, worked hard for his laurels.
Frequently appearing in two heavy parts nightly, he would
also occasionally relieve the tedium of the entr'actes by reciting
"Lord Ullin's Daughter" and other favourite pieces. During
the summer he played a whole month in the primatial city
D
34 Gustavus Vaiiglian Broohc.
of Armagh, wliicli, sad to say, like Newry, lias long since ceased
to boast the possession of a theatre.
Always on the lookout for new blood wherewith to recruit
his company at Drury Lane, it was not in the order of things
that Macready could remain long ignorant of the growing
reputation of one who in his t\T.'o days had paid him the
sincerest form of flattery. Fame had now blown such a loud
blast on her trumpet in Brooke's case that the eminent
tragedian was fain to send his agent to Scotland in the summer
of ISiO to report on the matter. So pleased was that gentleman
with Brooke's acting on coming across him at the Theatre Eoyal,
Aberdeen, that he engaged him forthwith to share "second
business" or juvenile tragedy with Mr. James Anderson during
the ensuing season at Drury Lane. According to agreement the
young tragedian was to proceed to Loudon immediately after
the fulfilment of a short engagement at the Thistle Theatre,
Dundee, In the meantime, however, he received a severe injury
in the combat scene of Bichanl III. which considerably delayed
him on his journey. Another and more dubious version of the
affair is related by Messrs. W. May Phelps and J. F. Eobertson,
who start in their Life of P/iclps by erroneously fixing the period
at 1812-43. In this work we are unblushingly told that Brooke
"had been smitten by a lady of Babylonian beauty belonging to
the Granite City, and she holding him fast in her toils arrested
his southward progress at Dundee. One of thi' most proviisinfj
careers ictis thus blasted." This is entirely away from the facts.
Dela3's to the contrary notwithstanding, Brooke arrived in London
quite time enougli for the Drury Lane rehearsals. It is
unfortunately true that while in Scotland he had contracted the
acquaintance of a fascinating actress of tlie Madame Celeste
school, known as Miss Marie Duret, who, as we shall see, for
some eight years travelled under his protection and occasionally
under the shelter of his iiame. lint it would be as idle to impute
to the lady's influence the disastrous termination of the Drury
Lane engagement, as it is foolish on .Messrs. Phelps and Forbes
liobert.son's part to liiy at her duor the responsibility for the
Offended to the Son], 35
"intermittent orgies" wliicli the actor is said for several years
to Have indulged in.
When Brooke arrived in London early in the December of
1841, it was to find that Macready pm-posed opening his campaign
at the National Theatre with a revival of 77/r Men-Jtnnt of Venire.
On entering the green-room he saw posted up a cast of the play,
with his own name opposite the ungrateful part of Salarino ;
together witli a notice (according to Mr. Edward Stirling) that on
Friday Mr. G. V. Brooke would play Othello. Unluckily for the
newcomer, he had entered upon the engagement without giving
careful consideration to all the provisions of the contract. Had he
known himself properly when Macready's agent first crossed his
path, he would at once have seen that nothing could well be more
galling to hnn than the alternation of leading and secondary parts
in a wcll-oidered London company. His was not the nature to
play the triangles to any one else's first fiddle. Hence his gorge
rose at the indignity which he believed had been thrust upon
him. Pausing only to tear down the bill, he strode out of the
theatre with lowering brow and menacing aspect, never to
darken its portals again under Macready's management. In
a brief account of Brooke's career which appeared in Tallin's
JShujazine for 1851, it is pointed out that the green-room
gossips of the time absolutely stated that the actor, "on
finding himself cast to play Laertes to Macready's Hamlet,
immediately wrote to the manager, saying that he was only
in the habit of performing one part, and that was Hamlet,
and that Mr. ]\Iacready might play the Ghost if he choose."
The writer, presumably on the authority of Brooke himself, denies
this, and most emphatically lays down the Salarino version
as the true one,. The date of the occurrence and everything
related to it has hitherto formed the subject of much dispute,
principally owing to the fact that Macready makes no immediate
reference to Brooke's conduct in his diary. But, taking the
Salarino version as correct, there can be no two questions
about the exact period, as The Mercli<nit af ]'cnire was only once
revived by Macready, either at Covent Garden or Drury Lsme.
36 Gustaviis Vaughan Brooke,
Without any undue desire to exonerate Brooke in tlie
matter, it remains to be said, in palliation of his offence, that
Macready does not seem, at the outset, to have properly fulfilled
his part of the contract. This is evidenced by the fact that
an action for breach of engagement was at once withdrawn on
Brooke's threatening to publish the whole of his correspondence
with Macready, in self-defence.
Luckily for himself, Brooke lost little caste by his quarrel
•^•ith the eminent tragedian. But after his return to the
provinces, where he had no difficulty in getting eligible
engagements, he looked askance at the tempting bait held out
by metropolitan managers, and refused as many as thirteen
promising offers before making liis memorable appearance at the
Olympic.
;;iImimim'mTjTi^lTi3 ]7iiJiiimi/ig^^
IM5ii^^Lt,^'i''''iJi'^A''^"'''i^''i^I^iF^-i^-'^^I^inrii^^ii^-'i'i'-i7lL'i. '.
CHAPTER III.
1S42— 1846.
Manchester, Liverpool, and Cork— Tragic Incident at IJerwick — Strolling
Experiences in Scotland — Brooke an Admirer of Vandenhoir —
Keturns to Manchester and ]ilays with Macready, Edwin Forrest,
and Charlotte Cashnian — Lester Wallack's Estimate of onr hero
— Forrest's Cliaractoristic Epistle to Urooke — Helen Fancit in
Manchester and Dublin.
ABOUT the period of Brooke's rupture with Macrcady, Mr.
J. II. Anderson, better known as "The Wizard of the
North," and Mr. W. J. Hammond, the comedian, had entered
upon the joint management of the Theatres Royal, Manchester
and Liverpool. To these gentlemen the irate tragedian at once
declared allegiance, and during the greater part of the year
1842 was to be found acting at one or other theatre. The new
managers signalized their accession by a wholesome reformation
behind the scenes, evoking considerable praise from the critics
for scrupulous attention to the claims of misc oi schie.
Commenting on Brooke's first appearance in ]\Ianchester, as
Richard III., on Wednesday, January 12, the (iu((nli<()i, after
treating briefly (and erroneously) of the "new and young"
tragedian's antecedents, says : — " He has a good voice, which he
taxes heavily, and which consequently fails him towards the end
of a 'heavy part' like Richard III.; a tolerably good figure and
countenance, and has several good points about him without
attaining to the highest rank of our present tragedians. To
say that we think he will prove a better actor than Mr. Stuart*
* Probably the actor who played seconds to Brooke during his
Olympic engagement of 1S4S.
38 Gustavus Vaiujhan Brooke.
(who we see is now be-praised in some London papers), or than
Mr. Charles Kean, is not saying much. Yet it is all we are
disposed to say till we have seen more of him. He commenced
Richard with such tours dc force that it was easy to predict that
his voice would fail him before the play closed. This is bad
husbandry of an actor in more senses than one ; in fact, it is
the boy roaring ' wolf ' before there is any need. Altogether
Mr. Brooke made a favourable impression, which it must be his
care to retain and strengthen. At the fall of the curtain he
was loudly called for and as loudly cheered."
Remaining in Manchester until January 2G, Brooke grew
daily in popular, as well as critical, estimation, playing among
other parts Romeo, Rolla, Macbeth, Virginius, and Evelyn.
Accompanied by Miss Julia Bennett, the Manchester "leading lady,"
he opened at Liverpool on January 31, when Messrs. Anderson and
Hammond inaugurated their management at the Theatre Royal by
an elaborate revival of Hatith't. As the new lessees had two other
playhouses to contend with, they had very judiciously secured
the services of several old Liverpool favourities for their stock
company, Mr. Richard Younge and Mr. Bellingham among the
number. Says the Liverpool Merciiri/ of February 4 : — " We
now come to speak of the performers, and must first hitroduce
our readers to Mr. G. V. Brooke, who made his first appearance
here as Hamlet. He is a young man of great promise — nay, not
only of great promise, but even now of sterhng abilities. His
performance was a masterpiece. With a clear and distinct
enunciation he adds gracefulness of manner and an admirable
conception of the philosophical Hamlet. He plays not to the
audience — he plays not for eftect — he seems to be entirely
absorbed in the character, as every actor must be who wishes
to arrive at a high place in his profession. Some of liis
readings are new and original, and wo could not help but
admire the modesty and dignity — yet familiarity^ — witli wliich
he delivei-ed his address to the players. His encounter with
the Ghost was thrilling — every word seemed to have an impression
upon liim, and tlic minor details of position and acting, the
Manchester and Licerpool. 39
result of nincli stiuly and a just discrimination, are scrupulously
attended to. We expect mucli from the young gentleman, who
was called for by the audience, and are sure the managers will
do well to announce a repetition of Hamlet."
The critical notices continued warm throughout. " Since
our last," says the Mevcunj of February 11, " Mr. Brooke
has played Evelyn in M<inc;i, Romeo, and has appeared again
as Hamlet, in which he has given the most unbounded
satisfaction ; and the style in which the latter piece has been
put upon the stage has received the warmest commendations of
all who have seen it." Again, on Friday, February 25, the same
paper says: — "The spirited manner in which the new managers
have commenced their campaign has quite astonished the
play-going public, and if any proof were wanted of this continued
desire to please, it would be found in the style ni which the
tragedy of Jlic/ninl the Third was brought out on Monday last,
with appropriate scenery and new dresses, the elegance of which
lias not been equalled on the stage We cannot
speak too highly of Mr. Brooke's Richard ; it was a splendid
effort, crowned with the most complete success, and he was
loudly called for at the close of the play. Never did any actor
rise more rapidly in the estimation of the public than does this
gentleman, and never did any aspirant for histrionic fame more
justly deserve to do so."
After playing Macbeth and Othello, Brooke returned to
Manchester for a few nights, and on May 16 reappeared in
Liverpool as Ion. After the lapse of a week he retraced his
steps to Manchester, and on June 14 figured as lago to the
Othello of Mr. .James Anderson. Taking advantage of the off
season to visit his friends in Ireland, he played a very successful
engagement during the summer at the Cook Street Theatre,
Cork ; then under the management, of Fi'ank Seymour, the
comedian, of whom so many funny stories have been told. Here
he renewed his acquaintance with Mrs. Warner — the Miss
lluddart of his early Dublin days— and, supported by Marie
Duret (whose Juliet was very highly praised), ran the gamut of
40 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
his histrionic scale, playing, among other parts, William in Black-
Eyed Susan, and Don Felix in The Wonder.
Eetm-ning to Liverpool early in September for the opening
of the winter season, we find him playing there (amid a variety
of his old parts) Brutus in Julius Ccesar, Gambia in The Slave,
and Kob Roy to the inimitable Bailie of Mackay. After a short
visit to Manchester, where his Eomeo was very warmly received,
he reappeared at Liverpool on September 26 for Mr. and Mrs.
Baker's farewell benefit. On this occasion he played Worth -
ington in The Poor Gentleman, for the first time on any
stage, to the Humphrey Dobbin of Mackay. Brooke little
thought at this time how soon he was to find himself thrown
out into the cold. Unfortunately, Messrs. Anderson and
Hammond had commenced their reign in a spirit of liberality
out of all proportion to the measure of support accorded
them.
Returning to Manchester at the beginning of October, Brooke
played lago on the 3rd to the Othello of Woolgar. and remained
there until the 22nd, when he made his last appearance under
Messrs. Anderson and Hammond's management. The theatre
was suddenly closed owing to the failure of the lessees ; and
when it re-opened its doors on December 24, with Robert Roxby
as manager, Brooke was temporarily lost to Manchester playgoers,
and Charles Pitt reigned in his stead.
Misfortunes such as these, however, are but "trifles light
as air" when one is only five-and-twenty. Friends were not
wanting to whisper in Brooke's ear that he had all the physical
qualifications which go to make the great actor, and that with
unceasing study and culture the ball was at his feet. Dissipation
and elocutionary vagaries had not yet played havoc with a voice
whose analogue hud not been heard on the stage since the
days of silver-tongued Barry. In no sense introspective, however,
his devil-may-care nature spoiled all. It lie burnt the midnight
oil it was in excessive conviviality with the boon companions
that fluttered around him. Thrown suddenly on his own
resources, there was nothing for it, for the time being, but to
The Drama in Benoich. 41
return to liis old strolling life. The victim of some strange
caprice, we fmd him playing occasionally at this period as Mr.
Gustavus Vasa Brooke — a circumstance which in after years
evidently gave rise to the contention as to his real name.
Emerging for a moment from obscurity at Brighton (where,
supported by Marie Duret, we find liim playing a few nights in
February, 1843), he disappears again from sight, only to turn up
later in the year at Berwick-on-Tweed.
Prominent among those places which lost their theatrical
importance with the advent of the railway, the Border town
during the first quarter of the present century was looked
upon as an agreeable halting-place by the weary player in
the course of his northward progress. Berwick owes her boast
that the Kembles, the Keans, T. P. Cooke, Joe Grimaldi,
and many other celebrities appeared on local boards, to the
circumstance that the mail coach from Manchester once upon
a time passed through the town on its way to the
Scottish capital. The theatre, which had been originally opened
by Stephen Kemble, of obese memory, was fitted up in a large
building at the rear of the King's Arms yard. It was remarkable
for its commodiousness, the stage being deep and well supplied
with scenery of the old conventional order.
Thither the young tragedian, accompanied by Miss Duret,
her maid Fanny, and some pet dogs, wended his way early in
the summer, securing apartments at the house of the Misses
Cameron in Church Street. A lady still living in Berwick
happened as a child of twelve or thirteen to be residing under
the same roof. Womanlike she has little remembrance of Marie
Duret, save of her wearing "a beautiful pink dress covered with
lace and garlands of flowers, and a large scuttle-shaped hat of
light-coloured velvet." Things are different in the case of the
tragedian, of whose liberality and extreme good nature the lady
retains the most sympathetic recollections. This delight in the
company of little children ever remained one of the most
pleasing traits in Brooke's character. Few of those who knew
him intimately but can testify to the huge enjoyment he derived
42 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
from joining in tlieir romps and helping them to set out their
toys. Even when leaving the town with the slenderest of
purses, he could not find it in his heart to say goodbye to
his little playmate without giving her a bright half-crown as a
keepsake.
At Berwick, we learn for the first time of his playing that
arduous and searching character which few on tlie stage have
rendered acceptable since George Frederick Cooke and Edmund
Kean made it their own. Although many and various are
the actors who have attempted to win renown as Sir Giles
Over-reach since Henderson gave his elaborate conception
and John Kemble failed in the part, only the names of
Cooke, Kean, and Brooke will live in theatrical history as its
interpreters.
In Berwick the popularity of Brooke and Marie Daret grew
apace ; so much so that when the lady took her benefit in her
famous character of Jack Sheppard many were turned away
from the doors. Tlie casual wayfarer who happened to
turn down Church Street in the day-time would sometimes
get a glimpse of Brooke sitting at the open window attired
in a gown of red cloth plentifully bespattered with black
spots. Sometimes he might be seen rehearsing with his fair
companion — sometimes playing with the dogs ; and the spectator,
if he cared to strain his eyes, might view with wonder the
heap of rich dresses, swords, riding-boots, and rouge-besmeared
towels piled higgledy-piggledy in the corner. Occasionally there
would be a day's outing in a post-chaise, when Brooke might
be seen shooting at sparrows along the Whiteadder burn
what time the lady was beguiling the hours witli a fishing-
rod.
The circumstances under which their sojourn at Berwick came
to an untimely end had somewhat of a tragic aspect. Ihooke
liad grown so popular witli the inliabitants that lie was frequently
invited out to diinier by the gentry in the neiglibourliood, none of
whom ever ihoughl of including the name of liis fair compan.ion
on tlie card. The slur seems to have left so deep an impression
As ll^'afer unto IlV/^e. 43
upon the lady's mind, tliat on one occasion when Brooke was at
a dinner party at Dr. C";i hill's she left her apartments and
poisoned herself in the ])uhlic street. Repenting quickly of her
action she appealed to the timely assistance of a stranger, who
bore her into a neighbouring house and then set off, post-haste,
to fetch Brooke's host. Exerting all his skill the doctor
succeeded in saving her life. Although heavily in debt, Brooke
felt too much ashamed to perform in Berwick again, and at
once took his departure from the town accompanied by the
lady, but minus lii-^ boxes and lirr maid. Subsequently we
learn of him at Carlisle, where he made the acquaintance of
his life-long friend. Mr. James llodgers (late the lessee of the
Prince of Wales's Theatre, Birmingham) ; and at Wigton, a small
market town eleven miles oft", where he acted in a wooden
structure known as Thome's Theatre. A Carlisle correspondent,
in informing us that he was among those who witnessed Brooke's
performances in the booth, emphatically gives it as his opinion
that, although he saw the tragedian many times afterwards at
Manchester and elsewhere, his acting never again appeared so
forcible and vivid. The absolute truth of this statement is
corroborated by an anonymous writer in Tlie Australian Ma(jazine
for July, 1886, who, in some sympathetic reminiscences of
" An Old Australian Favourite," tells us of the excitement
occasioned some forty years previously in the little Scotch
town where he passed a portion of his school days, by the
arrival of the great actor. " Montgomery, Fechter, Irving, and
other exponents of the tragic art have I seen since then, but
there remains with me, embalmed in the clear amber of memory,
the eidolon of Brooke as far and away the best and noblest
representative of the romantic school of acting. Of the rival
school— the classic — with its traditions of the Kembles and the
Siddons, I can only judge by my recollection of old Vandenhoft",
once seen in Judge Talfourd's classic play of Lm. That I
remember as a noble and impressive performance, clear-cut,
statuesque, not without soul ; but, compared with Brooke
at his best, it was as water unto wine, or as the cold
4-4 Gustavus Vauyhan Brooke.
northern moonligbt to tlie glowing sunshine of our Australian
summer."
The comparisons and classifications here indulged in appear to
us rather confusing, seeing that Brooke, after he had shaken off
the thraldom of Macready, declared his allegiance to the school of
Yandenhoff. We learn this from the revelations of the " Old
Fashioned Playgoer,'" who says : —
"It has, however, been written since Mr. Brooke's death,
that his style was entirely his own, I am enabled to say
from personal knowledge that this was not G. V. Brooke's
opinion. "When not under the influence which was his
bane, he was a remarkably modest man and seldom spoke
of his own doings. But I was one day having a pleasant
chat with him about great actors, and I tempted him into a piece
of egotism by naming Mr. Vandenhoff'. With certain limitations
my mention of that actor was very eulogistic. Brooke seized
upon my praises with avidity, treating them as if they meant
more than I had expressed.
" I then added that I thought in a certain part he was
very like Mr. Vandenhoff. ' I'm delighted,' said Brooke, in
the husky tones and slightly Irish pronunciation which he so
wonderfully got rid of on the stage, ' I'm delighted to hear you
say that, for it was always my greatest ambition to resemble
Vandenhoff.' But those who say his style was his own are, to
a great extent, right nevertheless. He was too full-blooded a
man to be very successful in imitating a model so comparatively
cold and obviously methodical. Accordingly, they were most like
each other in the Hunchback, for Master Walter suppresses his
emotions or simulates others throughout the play. They were
also somewhat alike in Brutus ; but in Coriolanus the emotional
power of Brooke and his vivid representation of tlie weaker and
impulsive side of the Roman general's character left Vandenhoff's
fine performances considerably on one side ; while what I have
called his full-bloododness, rendered his Matthew Elmore, in
Lijce's Sdcrijiie, a great deal more probable, more contagiously
effective and more spontaneously affecting than that of Mr.
Youth at the IJclm.
Vandenlioff, wlio was the original of llio character. The two
great speeches in this play — that on the horrors of a murderer's
life and that describing the death of Count Du Barry — and
the critical interviews with Lafont and with Margaret, constituted,
in my opinion, Brooke's greatest triumph. I do not believe there
ever was finer, more impressive, more overwhelming or better
balanced acting since the stage became a profession."
But these were among Brooke's later characters. Resuming
our narrative, we find tliat not long after 13rooke's visit to
Carlisle, Mr. James Rodgers (then the veriest tyro on the
boards) was making his way from Glasgow to Inverness, and
to his enjoyable surprise ran across his newly -acquired friend
on the boat. On exchanging confidences they found that both
were bound for the same destination ; the one to open as
Hamlet, the other as Laertes. " To tell you the honest truth,"
said Brooke to his companion, "I was due at Inverness three
weeks ago ; but faith I met three jolly fellows in Glasgow, and
their company was too good to leave." Bubbling over with
high spirits and good fellowship, he continued his conviviality
on board the steamer, and quite demoralised the crew with his
fascinating companionship and infectious drollery. A pleasant
picture this— to those who can avoid looking at its pendant.
With but poor husbandry of his financial resources it is not
to be wondered at that the reckless youth, while playing in a
notoriously untheatrical district, eventually found himself stranded.
Whether the worthy inhabitants of Kilmarnock assumed an
attitude of apathetic indilYerence towards the young tragedian,
or were merely indisposed to flock to a theatre inconveniently
situated in a loft over some stables at the bottom of a yard,
is equally indeterminable. One thing is certain— that Brooke,
from want of patronage while appearing there, after his Inver-
ness engagement, had perforce to leave his apartments and
take up his abode for a time in the green-room (!) of the
playhouse.
Among the many managers who endeavoured to induce our
hero to return to London, after his famous quarrel with Macready,
46 Gusfavus Vaughan Brooke.
we find Mr. Edward Stirling, who made liim an offer for the
Olympic, politely refused in the following terms : — *
Theatre Royal, Greenock,
September Sth, IS4S.
My Dear Sir,
Ever since the very disgraceful conduct of the
Drury Lane Management towards me, 1 have almost buried myself in
oblivion. With regard to visiting the metropolis, under existing
circumstances it will be utterly impossible for some time; and even
then I will candidly confess to you that nothing but a most tempting
offer would induce me to leave the provinces. I am aware that a great
number of persons think me little better than a madman for acting in
the manner I have done and am doing, but I am determined to see my
way clearly and 'bide my time.' I open the Ayr Theatre for the
Caledonian Hunt on the 25th instant. However, I shall drop yon a
wecJdij hint of my locality, and shall feel happy to hear from you and
profit by your counsel and advice, and in the meantime
I remain, dear sir,
Yours very truly,
Gustavus V. Brooke.
P.S. — I leave here on the 18th instant for Ayr.
It is a strange fact, that although more than four years
elapsed before Brooke ventured to make an appearance in
London, the theatre then chosen was the Olympic. Meanwhile
his managerial venture at Ayr had proved disastrous ; not very
surprising considering that from first to last he never evinced
the possession of any of the qualities requisite in a theatrical
director. But his stay in Burns' town was not without its
compensating advantages. It enabled him to acquire the
friendship of genial James Morris, Avho throughout his chequered
lifetime stuck to him manfully, and was ever ready to place his
counsel and liis purse at liis disposal. Writes Morris in his little
book of Recollections : — " I. have seen Brooke, when ' roughing it '
as a manager, enact all kinds of parts or walks. As a sailor
you naturally wondered wlietlicr lie liad ever been on sliore,
wliile from the gentleman to the robber he looked all the characters
to perfection ; indeed, with all that came in his way he was
nature itself." When things were at their direst extremity,
•See Stirling's "Old Drury Lane" i* hatto & Windus, 1881),
vol. II., p. I'lA.
Mnnchestcr and Licerpool. 47
Morris, who was friendly with David Prince ]\liller (author of
The Life of a S/iowiiiii)t], then manager of a substantial wooden
building in Glasgow known as the Royal Adelphi Theatre,
induced that worthy to proffer Brooke, Miss Dui*et. and the Ayr
company a satisfactory engagement. Rather unfortunate in his
previous speculations. Miller was delighted to find that the
Glaswegians had a thorough taste for the legitimate, as shown
by the warm reception accorded to Gustavus. During a month
or five weeks' sojourn there, commencing on Monday, May G,
1844, the tragedian played to crowded houses nightly, appearing
from time to time as Edgar Ravenswood, Othello, William Tell,
Alexander the Great, Huon (in Sheridan Knowles's new play
Love), Hotspur (Henry IV.), Tom Moore (Tlic Jrish Lion/,
Doricourt ( The Belle's Stratiujem), and Lothair in Adehjitha.
Lighter at heart and much heavier in pocket, the tragedian,
accompanied by Miss Duret (who from her limpet-like qualities
was now familiarly known among l>rooke's cronies as "The Old
Man of the Sea"), made liis Avay southward to Manchester,
appearing for the first time at the old Queen's Theatre in Spring
Gardens on July 8. The Theatre Royal had been burnt down
in the May previous. After starring at the Queen's in a round
of stock characters, Brooke left there for Liverpool about the
middle of August, having contracted to manage the Theatre
Royal, Church Street (late Liver Theatre), in that city, for
Mr. Malone Raymond, the lessee. At least, the bills of the
period are headed, " Under tlie management of j\Ir. G. V. Brooke."
His slay there, however, was short. On Friday, September 6,
we find him playing Richard Shelly, the poacher, in Fitzball's
domestic drama in two acts, Tlic. Momentous Question, for Mr.
and Mrs. Malone Raymond's benefit ; Miss Duret being the
Rachel Ryland. By the 23rd following he had returned to
the Manchester Queen's, where, during the month of November
he played seconds to Yandenhoff for a considerable number of
nights, appearing as lago, Macduff, etc., etc. After fulfilling
a similar oflice during Fanny Cooper's visit, he look a benefit,
December 10, when Lni was in the bill. Beyond appearing as
48 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke,
King James in Cramnnd Br'nj, nothing of note occurred until
January 30, 1845, when he gave a fine impersonation of Sir Giles
Over-reach. So successful, indeed, was his first appearance as
Marc Antony in Julius C(TM(r on February 3, that the play was
repeated four nights after, with George Preston as the Brutus
and T. H. Lacy as Cassius. Considered equal to the Brutus of
Yandenhofi', Brooke's superb Marc Antony is still well remembered
by old Manchester playgoers. Subsequently, he appeared thrice
as Martin Lessamore in Pedlar's Acre; or, The Wife of Seven
Husbands, and took a second benefit on Wednesday, February 27,
when he played the name-part in the tragedy of Bertram.
Brooke's patience was now to undergo a severe trial. His
old enemy, Macready, had been engaged to appear at the Queen's
Theatre in March, when all the second parts, in the natural
order of things, would fall to Gustavus. A hoary tradition exists
in Manchester to the effect that Brooke at this period had ample
revenge for all the indignities thrust upon him by the eminent
tragedian. The story goes that Brooke, happening to be cast
as Othello to Macready's lago, by a supreme effort put forth all
the power and pathos at his command, creating such an effect
upon the audience that his Moor-ship's ancient was well-nigh
overwhelmed. Without any undue desire to dispel such cherished
illusions, it is necessary to point out that, however feasible the
story, it is not borne out by any evidence at command. Beside
this engagement, Brooke supported Macready at the Theatre
Royal, Manchester, in April, 1847, and so far from endeavouring
to tower over his adversary, appears to have shown his contempt for
the star by, for the most part, " walking through " his characters.
In connection with this it is noteworthy that T/ir Star of
February 24, IHOO, contained an interview with Mr. Bruton
Robins, an old actor then at Drury Lane, from which we take
the following:^" During one of the season's excursions, Macready
went to Manchester to star. (1. V. Brooke was leading man at
the time. A suit for breach of engagement had been entered
against him. 'I'ho play was Wcrnrr, I'rooke the Ulric. At the
end of the piece Macready sent a request to Brooke to favour him
Afacread//. 49
with his presence in his di-cssing-room. Brooke was rather
surprised, but comphcd. After the usual ceremonies, Macready
thus addressed him : — ' I deeply regret, Mr. Brooke, that any
misunderstanding should have occurred between us, and shall
take immediate steps to stay all further litigation. You have
delighted me beyond expression by your masterly impersonation of
Ulric to-night. A bright future is in store for you. Persevere in
your studies, and you will be, or my judgment errs, a great actor,' "
Appealed to for his authority in this matter, Mr. Robins
(who had played lago to Brooke's Othello at Brighton in 1850)
replied — "My informant was Mr. Cowper,* a leading member of
the company at the time. Of course no third person would be
present at such an interview, and only Mr. Brooke himself could
have been Cowper's informant. When an eminent tragedian like
Macready sends his messenger to an actor the members of the
company are anxiously waiting to know the result of such an
interview. Mr. Brooke was always an open-hearted good fellow
amongst his brother actors, and, being so, made no secret of
what transpired."
Mr. Robins' informant, we are afraid, got the story at
second-hand, and garbled it in the telling. On the night he
played Werner, during his first engagement in Manchester,
Macready ilid send for Ulric, but witli far different motives to
those imputed to him. He had evidently felt greatly annoyed
at the careless manner in which the actor had played his
part, and under date March 27, 1845, enters in his diary : —
"Acted Werner very fairly. Called for (trash!). Spoke in
gentle rebuke and kind expostulation to Mr. G. V. Brooke."
Lest it should be argued that the real occasion referred to
by Mr. Cowper was the ]\'cr)tcr night of the second engagement
(April 28, 1847), we may point out that the Manchester GuanUan,
so far from waxing enthusiastic over Brooke's Ulric, merely
remarks that he was "effective, but not letter-perfect."
-'■ Cowper does not appear to have heen prominently associated (if
fit all) with any of the Manchester Theatres until LSoli, when he was
leading man at the Koyal.
£
50 Gustavus Vaiighan Brooke.
With the termiuation of Macready's first engagement, Brooke
appears to have resumed his wonted vigour. On Thursday,
April 17, he phiyed Don Caesar for the first time, and on the
23rd appeared as Orlando to the Jaques of Vandenhoff and the
Eosalind of his daughter. On May 24 we find him impersonating
^Yallack■s great part of Martin Hey wood in The Ucnt Bay — a
character which he afterwards sustained with credit in America
and the Colonies. Two nights later, an elaborate production
of Mun/iirct CatrhpaJi' took place ; this, with Brooke as Will Laud,
held its place in the bills intermittently for several weeks.
With the beginning of the autumn season, the Queen's
Theatre had a formidable rival in the New Theatre Eoyal,
which had just opened its doors with a great flourish of
trumpets. It was a busy, eventful tune for Brooke, but he
bore his responsibility with an easy grace characteristic of the
man. After repeating his admired impersonation of Marc Antony
early in September (to the Brutus of Mr. James Anderson) he
had the felicity of supporting Charlotte Cushman during her
brief visit of six nights, when he appeared as Fazio (twice),
Macbeth, Julian St. Pierre, The Stranger, and Duke Aranza.
Among all the actors who visited Manchester at this time,
or played in the local stock companies there was none who
could approach Brooke in melody, power and range of voice.
Indeed it is doubtful whether lie has ever been excelled in this
respect save in the one noteworthy instance of Salvini.
Notwithstanduig all the good feeling evinced towards Brooke
by his comrades-at-arms, a tinge of malice evidently entered
into the raillery with whicli they plied him about the end
of September. " Brooke, my boy," one would say, " look
out ; Forrest is coming." Then another would chime in with,
"Yes, it's rather a shabby trick of liis drowning the voice of
everyone he comes across." " How can he lielp it ? " says a
third. "His lungs are simply frightful." To all of which
Brooke would significantly make reply, " If he tries it with me
I'll teach him a lesson." In due course the great American
tragedian came to fulfil his engagement at the Queen's, and met
Edwin Forrest. 51
with a good reception. For several nights he acted with
moderation, Brooke playing Phasarius to his Spartacus in The
Gladiator, and other parts of a similar calibre. On Wednesday,
October 1, just as the minor fry were beginning to think all tlieir
trouble had gone for nothing, Olliello was put up, with Forrest as
the Moor and Brooke as lago. If there was one part more
than another in which the American actor let himself loose it
was this. Consequently in the great scene in the third act
where Othello seizes upon his ancient, Forrest put forth all the
lung power at his command. With the gibes of his associates
rankling in his mind, Brooke's combative instincts were at once
aroused. No sooner had Forrest finished than Brooke came out
with his speech, "Oh Grace! oh Heaven, defend me!" in a
tone of thunder, which as it reverberated through the building
at once dwarfed his colleague's delivery by the contrast. No one
in the heat of the moment noticed the absurdity of the
proceeding. Both behind and in front astonishment reigned
supreme. Forrest himself stood perfectly stupefied. For the
first time in his eventful career he had met with a man whose
voice excelled his own in volume and strength.
Brooke, on reflection, seems to have repented his action, and
by his friendly attitude towards the visitor apparently did his best to
palliate the oftencc. Forrest, on the other hand, little mortified at
the scene, met his advances half-way, with the result that they
became firm friends. Each had a grudge against Macready, and
the feeling united them in a common bond of sympathy.
On October 7 Brooke appealed to his friends as Huon in
Lore. Four nights after, Sloan, the lessee, took his benefit, and
delivered a farewell address in rhyme, in which, after allusion
had been made to the principal actors who had recently visited
the Queen's, the doggerel went on to say —
"Had I space, others, botli 'stars' and 'stock,' might
justly claim a nook,
But in my stream of rhyme I must not forget a Brooke."
The theatre then closed for extensive alterations, and reopened
on ]\Ionday, March 2, 1846, with a seating capacity of about
52 Gusfavus Vauglian Brooke. .
2,300, the house when packed holding fully £127. Anything
but comfortable or commodious in the old days, the Queen's
even now, with all its vaunted improvements, was very badly
ventilated. It is noteworthy that this house dated from the
year 1775, and was in reality the first Manchester Theatre
Royal. But it fell at one time into bad odour, from which,
despite the efforts of subsequent managers, it never properly
recovered.
Meanwhile Mr. Sloan had for the most part done away
with the old stock company, comprising the names of Messrs.
Letchford, Melville, Hill, Fisher, Normanton, Bedford, Denial,
Raymond, Watson, Mrs, Garthwaite, Mrs. Sloan, and Miss
E. M. Dnret. With his re-opening, Brooke ranked as first
tragedian ; Miss Angell as leadmg lady ; Mr. Lester (Lester
Wallack) as genteel comedian ; Henry Bedford as low comedian ;
and William Artaud as first old man. The Theatre Royal stock
company, which in 1845-G had for leading actors Charles Dibdin
Pitt and R. E. Graham (the latter of whom played Sir Giles
Over-reach at the Marylebone in 1848 in opposition to Brooke
at the Olympic), was, on the whole, considered immeasurably
superior to that of the Queen's. But the best stars of the time,
strange to say, preferred acting at the house in Spring Gardens.
Hence Sloan was enabled to announce engagements for the
forthcoming season with Macready, Charles Matthews, Forrest,
Buckstone, Madame Vestris, and many others of equal note.
Originally engaged merely for a few nights at the Queen's,
Mr. Lester (since better known to fame as Lester Wallack, the
celebrated American actor-manager) remained during the entire
season, becoming, as he himself styles it, a sort of semi-star or
asteroid. Afterwards he transferred his services to the Theatre
Royal. Referring to the circumstance that, during his stay at
the Queen's, Brooke and he shared the same dressing-room,
Mr. Wallack says in his " i\Icmories of the Last Fifty Years" : —
"Off tlie stage he liad a particularly strong brogue. He was a
perfectly reckless iii;iii, wlio did not care how Ins money woit
or what straits he niigliL bu in. Ho was an Irishman, one of the
generous, kind-lioarlcd, wliole-souled Jolju-Jjrougham Irislnnen.
During that engagement at Manchester we acted together. I
would often go into my dressing-room and find that certain very
necessary articles of my wardrobe were missing, and one night
in particular I remember I was playing Modus in The Hunrhlxtck,
while he was acting Master Walter, and Miss Faucit, Julia. I
went into the room and found Brooke ready to go on. I had a
costume I was particularly fond of, a chocolate-coloured, plain,
quiet sort of a dress, and I missed the tights belonging to it.
Brooke said, 'What is the matter, me dear boy?' I said, 'I
cannot dress — I can"t find my tights.' ' Why,' said he, ' I took
the liberty to take your tights myself, they are on me. I couldn't
find my own.' Fortunately, I did not go on until the second
act, and by that time the whole theatre had been ransacked, and
I got somebody's nether garments, and he carried tlirough the
performance with ' Lester's tights.' It was characteristic of
Brooke that he would have been quite as willing that I should
Lave taken his and have gone on himself without any. He was
one of those reckless, generous creatures, who would give anything
he had in the world to me, or to anybody else he liked."
Owing to the sense of discomfort produced by an overcrowded
audience in an ill-ventilated theatre, the critics on the opening
night were rendered grumpy enough to speak disrespectfully of
the equator. Next day they found fault with everything from
the scenery, which was condemned as " deficient in drawing, in
perspective, and in colouring," to the actors, whose lavish gagging
had certainly given cause for offence. " A lively but somewhat free
minor theatre of the Adelphi pattern " was the general verdict.
Beyond his great hit as Connor O'Kennedy in T/n> Green
Bushes, and the reception accorded to his Romeo when placed in
juxtaposition with the Mercutio of Henry Farren, little of note,
so far as Brooke was concerned, took place during the season.
In it, however (as hinted by Lester Wallack), he appears to have
acted a round of characters in support of the divine Helen
Faucit, noteworthy among which may be mentioned his Mordaunt
in The Patrician s Daughter of Westland Marston. This was the
54 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
lady's first meeting with the actor with whom she was
afterwards to be frequently associated on the stage. The
impression left on Miss Faucit's mind by Brooke's acting was
so favourable that she at once engaged him to support her in
the lead during her forthcoming tour in Ireland. There was
little difficulty in arranging this as things had been going badly
with poor Sloan, who was eventually declared bankrupt in the
February of 1847.
Before proceeding to Ireland, however, Brooke paid a visit
to Sheffield to lend prominent support to Edwin Forrest, with
whom he was on the best of terms. Some idea of the relations
of the two leather-lunged tragedians may be gleaned from the
following unpublished letter now in my possession : —
24 U'Olier [Dublin],
April 20 [i<S^6].
My Dear Sir,
I have great pleasure in acknowledging the receipt
of your favour of yesterday. If you can go to Cork for the five nights
I should be well pleased ; if not, ask Mr. Bennett if he is at leisure
and would like to go. My engagement is only for seven nights.
With nuich pleasure I will send the orders as you requested.*
If it be true that Mr. Leigh Murray has chastised that brute
Macready for his insolence, he should be rewarded by the profession with
a handsome and valuable piece of plate. The Actors here, men and
women, say they will subscribe with pleasure.
I am glad you have received the sword.
Your letter containing the proposal from Mr. Copeland came duly
to hand, but I must decline the oiler. Should I act again in Liverpool,
I should prefer Hammond's Theatre.
"With kindest remembrances to Mr. Bennett,
Believe me,
Yours very truly,
G. V. Brooke, Esq. Edwin Forrest.
I leave here on Sunday next for Cork by the mail coach. If you
determine to come I would secure you a place in the same coach, wliich
leaves here at iialf-past ten in tiie morning.
Helen Faucit had already made one appearance at the
Theatre Royal, Dublin, when lirooke joined her there on
* Probably to Brooke's relatives in Dublin. The .sword mentioned
in the next paragraph but one was likely that of Kdnnind Kean, presented
by Honieone at tliis jieriod to Brooke (surely not Forrest?) and worn by
him ever after in his impersonation of Sir (Jiics Overreach.
Duhliu. 55
Monday, October 20. S/iu)iilfrs\s Xeua-LcW-r, speaking of their
acting on that evening in Jloiiuv and Juliet, thought that the
lady's impersonation of the confiding girl was finely imagined,
albeit " it displayed something of study and not enough of the
abstraction tliat speaks to itself, and asks not wliat etiect it
produces on others. Willi intuitive tact and knowledge she
entered into the meaning of the text, and in the more energetic
passages her spirit, animated by the occasion, lost not the
opportunity of proving what it could do under the most agitating
of influences The part of Romeo, in which so many
aspirants for dramatic fame make their dehut, Mr. Gustavus
Brooke sustained. Tie has already acquired a considerable
provincial reputation in the sister country, and, judging from
last evening, possesses several requisites for the stage. His
figure is good, and voice clear and sonorous, and his enunciation
such as not to disguise tlie language of the author. To these
requisites may be added a familiarity with the routine of the
stage. But he wants the sincere and glowing fire of genius,
and cannot so far forget his identity as to be the very person
he would represent. This is the impression created by his
performance last evening, but other characters will test the
extent of his resources."
Supporting Miss Faucit regularly when she appeared, and
acting even on her nights of rest, Brooke subsequently submitted
his conceptions of Claude Melnotte, Orlando, Hamlet, The Stranger,
Macbeth, Richard III., Beverly, and Sir Giles Over-reach to the
notice of Dublin playgoers.
On November 9, Miss Faucit played Jane Shore to the
Lord Hastings of Brooke, and on the following night (for tlie
first time on any stage) appeared in the name-part in Southerne's
tragedy of huhdla : ur, the h'dtdl M(ini<((ii'. Originally announced
for performance on the 5th, with Brooke as Biron, the piece had
to be deferred owing to Helen Faucit's sudden illness. It was
favourably received, bearing six representations in all during
the engagement. After the stars had conjointly appeared as Sir
Thomas Ciiflbrd and Julia, Jaffier and Belvidcra, Shylock and
56 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
Portia, and Brooke single-handed (so to speak) iiad played
Virginius and Petrucbio, Helen Faucif s benefit and " last
appearance" took place on tbe iZlst. Imogen and Leonatus
Postbumus in Ctjmbeline were the characters assumed on this
occasion by the stars. After four performances by Brooke solus
Helen Faucit (according to the accepted phrase of managerial
dodgery) was re-engaged, and on the 26th appeared as Lady
Macbeth. Two nights later an elaborate production of Euripides'
Iphiijenia in Aid is, in English was effected. Announced as for
tbe first time adapted to the modern stage by Mr. J. W.
Calcraft (the lessee of the theatre), the classic:! 1 tragedy was
given the adventitious aid of some original music by Mr. Levey,
together with new scenery, dresses, and decorations. Favourably
received in Dublin, especially by the (dunnii of Trinity College,
Iphiifenia in Anlis held its place in the bills seven consecutive
nights, or eight in all. The cast was principally as follows : —
Achilles, son of Peleus and King of Thessaly, Mr. G. V, Brooke ;
Agamemnon, Mr. Calcraft ; Iphigenia, his daughter. Miss Helen
Faucit ; and Clytemnestra, Mrs. Ternan.
Subsequently most of the old pieces in which Brooke and
Helen Faucit had already appeared were repeated. On December 9
The Winter's Tale (then a great novelty in the Irish capital) was
performed with the stars as Leontes and Hermione. Shakespeare's
comedy met with considerable favour ; so much so indeed that
it was deemed advisable once or twice afterwards to perform the
latter portion by way of afterpiece. On the 11th another novelty
was afforded by tlie appearance of Helen Faucit as Lady
Constance in Kiwi Jului, to tlie Faulconbridgo of Brooke. Nine
nights later, tlie engagement came to an end with Miss Faucit's
appearance, for her benefit, in fsiihclld and the second part of
The Winter's Tale. Seen most frequently in Achilles and Biron,
Brooke, during his noteworthy sojourn here of about forty-seven
nights, liad played in all twenty-two parts, some fifty-one times.
What, it might well bo asked, would a modern actor think of
such work ?
.BMiiiiiiiiiiiii|i|i|i|i|MLhiikiiiLijiiiLkiiiiliLiiJi[iiiii!ih
BfllllllllllirrTjT^njIilJ^J^IjIjT^l^jjiih^ lIlllllTiTnal
C II A V T E K i V.
1846— 1S47.
Brooke and the Impecunious Cork Mannj^er — Lady Martin's Reminiscences
of the Tragedian— His Acting Minutely Considered — Marie Wilton in
the Manchester Stock Company— Fanny Kemhle's Reappearance —
Macready again — Brooke's First Apjjearance in a st.artling r<''lc at
Wigan — The CJuileless Doctor of llochdale— Miss Clyn— Barry Sullivan
— Brooke Arrested on his Benefit Night — Elects to Appear in London at
the Olympic.
ITH the conclusion of the Dublin engagement Brooke
accompauied Miss Helen Faucit to Cork, Avhere they
opened in Seymour's tumble-down playliouse in Cook Street
three days after Christmas. Beyond mention of the fact that the
aetor here repeated his impersonation of Mordaunt to the Lady
Mabel Lynterne of his fair colleague, there is little need to treat
particularly of the visit in its professional aspect. Presenting
an luibending front to the overtures of the surrounding gentry
(nothing if not hospitable) the tragedienne had little patience
with the vagaries of the convivial-minded Gustavus.
" Having a host of friends in Cork," says ^Ir. J. \\". llynn in
an amusing little book recently published, entitled Tin' Udmhim
lu'coUectiona of an Old Thii/iiocr, " Brooke was very often late at
the theatre, unable to tear himself away from pleasant company at
the dinner parties he used to be asked to, or perhaps not having
been able to get back from a long excursion into the country.
He was very unpunctual, and Helen Faucit was quite the contrary.
She could not bear to be kept waiting, and the love-making of
Romeo and Juliet used sometimes to be preceded by decidedly
acrimonious passages between the two great ' stars.'
"I remember well one evening I was in Brooke's dressino;-
room at the theatre. He was late and was dressing ni a hurrv.
58 Gustai'us Vaughan Brooke.
The only others present were, one of the G s, and Henry Eoche,
the hairdresser, who superintended the wigs. Brooke had been off
in the country for a day's fishing with the G s, and had dined
with them in the evening. Sandy Seyton, son of the Mrs. Seyton
I had told you about so often, came to the door twice : ' Mr.
Brooke! Mr. Brooke! Miss Faucit's compliments; she's waiting.'
And Brooke answered impatiently : ' Let Miss Faucit go to
Jericho and wait !' We, I remember, did our best to get him
out in time. As Von Like It was the name of the play that
night, and never before, nor since, did I see such acting."
A few pages farther on Mr. Flynn (still posing as the inter-
viewer of an elderly and deceased friend) says, " I have often told
you how much Helen Faucit's patience was tried through Brooke's
unpunctuality. One day when Brooke came to the theatre entirely
late for rehearsal, the great actress gave him some wholesome
advice about his want of punctuality. She had played, she said,
with the greatest actor on the stage, 'Sir. ]\Iacready, and Jw had
never behaved with such want of consideration. She was angry,
and it is not to be wondered at, but Brooke answered somewhat
sharply, 'Madam, G. V. Brooke has not yet had his day.' His
words were prophetic. Even then people saw a great improvement
in his acting."
Before closing Mr. Flynn's amusing little book, we cannot
refrain from quoting a capital anecdote in connection with the
impecunious manager of the Cork Theatre. " There is a story of
something that occurred between Brooke and Frank Seymour on
the occasion of one of Brooke's earlier visits, which is well worth
relating. Frank Seymour owed Brooke a good deal of money on
account of the various engagements of the actor. Owing to some
' chaff ' from his friends, Brooke said one day — ' Well I really must
get some money from Frank ; it is too bad my services should be
going for nothing.' A few days afterwards he spoke to Frank, half
in joke, and said it was quite time he paid something. ' My dear
Gussy, you sliall have a cheque for ten pounds.' Whereupon lie
gave the tragedian a cheque on one of tlic banks — the National —
for £*10. Brooke did not know where the bank was and he asked
Story of a Cheque. 60
a friend to show him, and together they went to cash the
cheque. Tlie clerk to wlioni tlic cheque was presented looked at
it meditatively and smiled.
"'Wliat is the matter?' Brooke asked, 'Isn't that cheque all
right ? '
"'Oh, yes, the cheque is all right,' replied the clerk, 'hut
unfortunately there is no money to meet it — the gentleman has no
funds in the hank at present ! '
" Without a word Brooke left tiie hank. He was very
indignant. That evening he met Frank and spoke his mind
pretty plainly.
" ' It is too bad,' ho said, ' that you should serve me so about
that cheque.'
" ' But wasn't the cheque a good one, Gussy ? ' Frank said.
"'The cheque was good,' Brooke replied, 'but what was the
use of that when they wouldn't casli it ? '
"'What, not cash my cheque!' the other excluiniod
indignantly. ' Who was he ? —was he a low-sized stout man
with a black moustache ?'
"'] didn't notice,' said Brooke, 'but he wouldn't cash it
anyway.'
"'Well, now,' said Frank impressively, 'you present that
cheque on Monday, and if ihey refuse, you show me the man that
refuses and I'll have him dismissed the bank.'
"That was on Saturday. On Monday following Brooke and
his friend went again to the bank, and when the cheque was
presented, the clerk proceeded to cash it. But he was laughing
softly to himself all the while.
"'Why do you laugh?' Brooke said. 'What is it that
amuses you ?'
" ' I can't help laughing,' said the clerk. ' This iikdki/ liasn't
been nidir llnoi ti few iin'iiutcs in the Ixinl; ."
" And at that Brooke and his friend laughed too."
Notwithstanding Brooke's conduct at Cork, I^ady ]\Iarthi does
not appear to retain any save the most pleasing recollections of her
many professional associations with the tragedian. Replying to
60 Gustavics Vauglian Brooke.
our inquiries the Helen Faucit of old says — " He was a very fair
actor ; some thought a very good one ; but never could be
distinguished in his art because of his want of true dramatic
instinct and imagination." He did not appear to her to give
sufficient thought and study to the characters he undertook. " He
would accept an idea from others gladly, but would not take the
trouble to work it out for himself." Always good tempered and
amiable, it was a pleasure to meet him. " He was invariably most
attentive and obliging, accepting any hint at rehearsal which was
offered for the better illustration of his character in the most
kindly, grateful manner."
It is strange that one possessing so many qualifications for
judging should have so profound a misconception of Brooke's
great histrionic gifts. Not even the most enthusiastic of his
admirers ever attributed to him transcendent intellect. Art could
do little for an actor who was a master of natural and spontaneous
feeling, and who, beyond most others of his time, had that gift of
personal magnetism which at once grasps the attention of the
audience and makes all hearts beat as one. In no sense
psychological, his emotional powers were such that he arrived
with ease at effects which others, like Charles Kean, were
only able to accomplish by dint of much laborious
analysis. On this head let us liearLen once more to "The
Old-fashioned Playgoer," who confessed he was a Brookite
(although never knowing the tragedian at his best), because he
was for dramatic convention, and because Brooke was the only
man of Ijis time " wlio could vivify dramatic convention with
sucli a wealth of physical and elocutionary power and elegance as
to convey an idea of the grand old days of the stage." Subtlety or
, originality in their deepest significance he did not claim for him.
" A kindling glance at the bidding of the text ; a softened tone as
a line of his author shaded or digressed into pathos ; an impatient
agitation of his (wlieii made up) splendid head at tlio crisis of a
cliai actor's emotion ; a grand stride or fall at the culmination of a
scene — these were the only features of Brooke's acting in which he
departed from, or rather went beyond, convention. But my
His Limitations. 01
favourite had sometliiiig better than subtlety." He then points
out, what has been frequently noticed since, that the ordinary and
purposely subtle actor is a man whose observation exceeds his
sympathies ; one who holds his part at arm's length — regards it
objectively — and plays upon it as a musician plays upon a piano.
" When 1 think of Brooke's personal nobleness," he continues,
" and the ease with which he made it seem part and parcel of his
best characters, I am not at all sorry he was not a subtle actor ; I
am very pleased to have had the opportunity of admiring in liim
one who had a foremost place on the stage by right of a coniluence
and allliienco of natural endowments. Amongst these was nut
reckoned au intellectually handsome countenance. Even before
dissipation had left its impress upon his face its handsomeness was
unintellectual. It was such handsomeness as might suit a Tom
Jones, a Faulconbridge, or an Othello, not such as would reveal
the poetic meditativeness of a Hamlet, the mystic ambition of a
Macbeth, or the fantastic passion of a Komeo. It was most ennobled
when aged by the dresser's art, and in Kichelieu, Elmore, Master
Walter, or Over-reach, left nothing to be desired. As a rule,
however, it expressed, I consider, little more than dignity, tempered
as the case might be by anger, affection, impatience, or suspicion.
I have been told by an experienced actor who often played lago to
Brooke's Othello, that his expression of face while listening to the
wily ancient's suggestions in the third act was a great incentive to
his play-fellow — so great that, in the language of my informant, a
man must have been a fool not to play lago well to him. But this
actor was at the time a worshipper of Brooke, as almost every one
that ever played with him was ; and certainly facial expression,
except of a very strong and simple kind, was not amongst Mr.
Brooke's claims to pubhc admiration." *
What time Brooke was enjoying himself in the society of his
Cork friends, an announcement, to the exceeding gratification of
* AVrote a reviewer some years ago in the columns of the Xcw
York Dramatic Mcws:—"(.i. Y. Brooke, as fine a tragedian as ever trod
the boartl.s, albeit of the extreme old school, was spoiled— as later, was the
graceful Walter Montgomery— by the fact that his eyes were small and
hardly ever beamed with the expression which the actor undt)ubtedly felt."
62 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
Manchester playgoers, appeared in the local papers to the effect
that Mr. John Knowles, of the Theatre Royal, had secured the
services of the old Queen's favourite as leading man. Accordingly
Brooke made his first appeartince at the new house on February
15, 1847, as Hnon in Lore, Mrs. Charles Gill, the leading lady,
effecting her debut there on the same occasion. The following
evening Miss Fanny Kemble, who since her marriage to Pierce
Butler, a Southern planter, in 1834, had been living privately
in America, made her re-appearance on the stage as Julia
(her original character) in The Hunvldiach. Evidently in the
secret of the domestic troubles (culminating shortly afterwards in
a divorce) which had induced Mrs. Butler to return to her old
profession, tlie plaj'goers of Manchester crammed the house to
suffocation and welcomed her, on her first appearance, with a
volley of cheering, followed by rounds of applause. Such a
reception could not fail to put heart into the actress. Although
she had not trodden the stage in any capacity for over seven years,
the critics gave it as their opinio u there was little falling off
in the exquisite music of her voice or in the fine poetic spirit
which had been a prime characteristic of her earlier acting. All
the other players too seem to have been affected by the healthy
excitement of the evening. "The Master Walter of Mr. Brooke,"
noted the GuanJinn, " surprised us by its force, familiarised as we
have so long been with the embodiment of Sheridan Knowles
himself and Mr. Vandenhoff. ^^'ith these two exceptions we have
not seen so clever a personation as that of ]\Ir. Brooke." Falling
in line the K.ntntincr remarked "of this very, very excellent
tragedian," that " wliilc impas.sioned and impressive he exhibited
great good sense and good taste in his acting."
Ill iho matter of rehearsals Brooke appears to have treated
Mrs. Butler as cavalierly as he did Hcl(^ii l'\iut'it. On February
18, wlien Broolce supported tlio star as Duke Aranza in The
Ho7U'i/iiioo)i, we find licr writing to her friend " Hal.'' :— " The
company is a very fair one indeed, and might be an excellent one
if they were not all too great geniuses either to learn or to
rel)earse their parts. The Frencli do not put tlic flimsiest
Pleasure at the Prow. G
Q
vaudeville upon the stage without rehearsing it for threr months .■
here, however, and everywhere else in England, people play such
parts as Macbeth with no more than three rehearsals ; and I am
going to act this evening in The Honi't/moon with a gentleman who,
filling the principal part in the piece, has not thought fit to attend
at the rehearsal ; so that though I was there, I may say in fact that
I have had no rehearsal of it — which is business-like and pleasant." *
Notwithstanding Brooke's characteristic carelessness, the play
was "all right at night," the Mamhester Adcertiscr ami Chronicle
considering that his "personation of the Duke was very masterly
though somewhat stern."
To a man of Brooke's convivial temperament a source of
great temptation was at this time presented by the gatherings at
the Kersal Moor Hotel, as presided over by the genial " Jem"
Thompson, who also figured as mine host of the Concert Tavern,
York Street, close to the Queen's Theatre. The former house
especially was a great place of rendezvous for the members of
.both stock companies. Mostly every Sunday a regular theatrical
dinner would be held, after which, provided the weather were
fine, the assembly would adjourn to the bowling green to blow a
cloud and enjoy the light afternoon breeze. Even on week days
high revelry would be kept up before and after the actors' working
hours, and Brooke often with difficulty tore himself away from his
companions in time for the labours of the night. In after years
old Harry Beverley delighted to relate how he had been out at all
hours from midnight to break of day with the reckless tragedian,
but never by any chance saw him with a book in his hand
studying his part. This puzzled him very much, seeing that
Brooke (in those days of frequent changes of bill) invariably
turned up to rehearsal letter-perfect. Nor was his curiosity
satisfied until he discovered the marvellous retentiveness of the
tragedian's memory— so marvellous indeed that with a single
reading he had mastered the text. Fatal proficiency ! It is sad
to think what heights Brooke could have attained had Nature
thought fit to dower him less nobly.
* "Kecords of a Later Life," IIL, p. 163.
64 Gustavns Vavghan Brooke.
It is noteworthy tliat the youthful Miss Marie Wilton figured
as a member of the Tlieatre Eoyal stock company at this period,
and on Februiry 20 appeared as Fleance to the Lady Macbeth of
Mrs. Butler. Speaking of Brooke's Macbeth the Guardian says he
"played the stirring scenes well; and his performance of the part
had altogether fewer defects than any we have latterly seen here.
It is the soliloquies in which he chiefly fails. They are more like
set speeches than the spontaneous promptings of active thought,
fitfully uttered aloud because so deeply interesting. And we take
it that the same mental excitement which prompts a man to
soliloquise would urge him to mitigate the peripatetic habit of
walking Avhile so engaged. Mr. Brooke commits the common error
of speaking loud, for effect, in certain scenes when it is a violation
of the consistencies of the scene — thus in the courtyard after the
murder, as if his mental torture could not be sufficiently expressed
in subdued tones ; while his loud speech at dead of night must,
according to all common-sense notions, have informed the sleeping
retainers of the murder and its author. The same fault was
practised in the Banquet scene." The K.qiress, on the other hand,
considered his Macbeth "a masterly performance — much the best
that we liave seen him give." If tlie metropolitan notices, however,
of the succeeding year be any criterion, the Manchester critics at
this period must, in all justice, have been exceptionally captious.
Certainly an undue spirit of fault-finding reigned supreme
throughout, ^^'hen Brooke played Ilomeo to the Juliet of Mrs.
Butler on February 22, the Courier considered the impersonation
was, "as usual, manly and correct in the declamation, but wanted
the romance of the beautiful poem."
Four nights after lie played Cardinal Wolsey in llinnj V III.
to the Queen Catharine of the tragedienne and the King of II. J.
Wallack the stage manager. Witli a repetition of 'I'ltr llunchhari;
on Saturday the 27th, Mrs. Butler's sojourn was brought to an
end. Besides appearing in a round of liis old characters duiing
Marcli, we find I'.rooke, on tlie 2n(], figuring in th(! bills as
Fabian in the new melodrama of I'hr lllark Parlor, 'i'cn niglits
later lie personated Evelyn m Munri/ [\)v Mr. A. Webster's
Macreadij. 05
bcuofifc, Groves on tliat occasion having his original represontative
in Mr. Benjamin Webster— his first appearance in Manchestor.
On the 13th following the Rev. James Whites play Fcwlal Timet
(which had only just seen the light at Sadler's Wells) was brought
out, with Brooke as Walter Cochrane, Earl of Mar. Owing to tlie
actor's exuberance of lung power the local press was unanimous
in condemning his impersonation of this character. After
accusing him point blank of ranting, the dunrtUttn indulged in a
covert sneer at the old Queen's in asking, " Is it the eflfect of habit
in a theatre where the proprieties of the stage were far less
attended to than at the Theatre Royal, and where exaggeration
was an essential element of success?" This was "give a dog a
bad name and hang him " with a vengeance! " Cochrane, Earl
of Mar," says the Courier, " is the leading hero, and was played
by Mr. G. V. Brooke with his usual dashing energy. We wish
he had more light and shade in his declamation, less of the
boisterous in passages where the purely poetical predominates
over the strictly passionate," etc., etc.
After March 19 (when Brooke gave one of his earliest
renderings of his great character, Matthew Elmore) nothing of
moment occurred until April 10, when Macready made his first
appearance at the Theatre Royal, playing Macbeth to the Macduff
of our hero. Judging from the notice in the Express, Brooke
evidently showed his contempt for his old adversary by walking
through his part. " It was not," says that journal, " equally
near to what he might have made it. He has great talent and
should respect it." Several off nights then succeeded, during
which Brooke appeared as Shylock and the Stranger to poor
houses, and on the 15tli (for H. J. Wallack's benefit) played Don
Pedro in Much Ado About XathiiKj, to the Beatrice of ]\Irs. Butler
and the Benedick of Wallack. " According to the bills," says the
Courier, " Mr. G. V. Brooke kindly consented to play Don Pedro ;
it was a condescension the audience on this occasion could have
well dispensed with." Poor Gus.I Presumably he had not yet
recovered from his bad attack of Macread} phobia. lie was now
preparing for his own benefit on the 19tli, when he purposed
F
66 Gustavus Vaughan Broohe.
playing Leoutes iu The Winters Tale and Edgar Ravenswood in
The Bride of Lammermoor. But two nights prior to tliat event he
had once more to eat humble pie as De Mauprat to " the
eminent's" Richelieu. His Laertes in Hamlet on the occasion of
Macready's third appearance was spoken of by the Guardian as
"somewhat too massive, but on the whole well played" —
showing that the fit of sulkiness was slowly passing off.
Playing Ulric to Macready's Werner on April 28, the same paper
considered his acting " effective but not letter-perfect." On the
following night he gave an unequal rendering of Edgar (Macready
the Lear), good and bad points appearing in glaring juxta-
position.
On April 30 the Yirginius of fourteen years' standing had
to content himself with Icilius ; and on ]\Iay 1 played lago to
Macready's Othello. The Guardian, in saying good-bye to the
great actor who had been drawing crowded houses nightly,
incidentally pointed out that Brooke's lago " wanted earnestness
and intensity of malice ; it rather assumed the levity of
comedy."
This pithy criticism gives a just impression of Brooke's acting
in the character from first to last. It is matter for regret that
on the few occasions the tragedian ventured upon an original
conception the critics failed to fall in line with his views. A little
more encouragement in this respect might have urged him to
continued study instead of throwing him back on theatrical
conventionalism. But the time was not yet ripe for a Fechter
or an L'ving.
Albeit Brooke had presented an unbending front to Macready
during this and a previous engagement in Manchester, it must not
be imagined that an atom of professional jealousy influenced his
attitude towards the tragedian. On the contrary, ih'ooke always
spoke in the highest terms of Macready's acting, and openly
confessed to his associates his doubts of ever approaching the
excellence of the great tragedian in several standard characters.
But it could not be Avithout feelings of secret satisfaction that, after
long years of waiting, Brooke eventually found himself hailed as
A Crude Joseph Surface . 07
Edmund Kean's successor in Othello and Sir Giles Over-reach.
The former character was certainly Macready's poorest efifort ;
the latter he never dared attempt.
With Macready's departure Helen Faucit came to Manchester
on i\Iay 3 to fulfil a week's engagement in the characters
previously identified with her success in Ireland. According to
the local press, Brooke as Orlando, on the 5th, showed a tendency
to rant, and, moreover, was not completely grounded in his lines.
But his Master Walter, two nights later, proved a signal success ;
and, wonderful to say, was unreservedly praised hy the hypercritical
reviewers of the period.
On May 12 Brooke appeared for the first time as Sykes
in Boucicault's new comedy I'he ScJiool for Sclwmhui : and on
Saturday, the 22nd, gave an effective performance of Waller in
Tlie Love Clidse, to the Wildrake of Robert Roxby, the Lydia of
Jane Mordaunt, and the Constance (her original character) of
Mrs. Nisbett. After Brooke had appeared twice in succession as
William in lllach-JO/cd Susdu, the season terminated on May 81
with 'I'/if Sclituil fur Sc(in<J(tl, very strongly cast. Robert Roxby
was the Charles Surface ; Mr. Ranger the Sir Peter ; and ]\Irs.
Nisbett, Lady Teazle. Unlike the other actors, who were well
grounded in their parts, Brooke had never previously played
Joseph Surface, was unfamiliar with Sheridan's comedy, and
unfortunately had to swallow the part at a moment's notice.
While, therefore, to the (Ti('inli<ni the character aftbrded some
nice points, " it was certainly not so finished and effective as his
talents and a more careful study might have made it. In some
instances he seemed to be ignorant of the business, as when
he says to Sir Peter and Charles — ' Gentlemen, I beg your
pardon, I must see you downstairs ; here is a person come on
particular business ' — intimating that he must show them to the
door, as he thinks it unsafe to leave them in the room together
with Lady Teazle behind the screen ; whereas Mr. Brooke hurries
out of the room at the moment of uttering the sentence — a
palpable contradiction between word and act— and has to be
called back by the others."
68 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
During the off season at the Tlieatre Royal, Brooke,
accompanied by Marie Duret, fulfilled a successful engagement of
twenty-one nights, commencing July 13, at the Amphitheatre, Hull.
Amid a variety of his old parts we find him appearing here as
King John, Hotspur, Hastings (June Shore), Gambia ^ The Slave j,
Quasimodo (Esmeralda i, Rob Roy, and Martin Heywood. Visits
to Bolton and one or two other Lancashire towns followed, with
but poor results. It is related, on fairly satisfactory authority,
that one Saturday night at Wigan the house was so small that
Brooke ordered the money to be returned, and, taken by a sudden
whim, said to his business manager, "If these people won't come
to see me act, perhaps they will come to hear me preach ; go
and get bills printed and posted at once, announcing that G. V.
Brooke, the actor, will preach the Gospel of Christ to-morrow
evening in the Primitive Methodist Chapel." No sooner said
than done. The bills were printed and posted forthwith, and
on Sunday the offended actor preached a sermon to a large
audience of wondering deadheads.
From the apparent incredibility of this story, it is necessary
to state that the responsibility for first putting it into print
devolves upon Mr. Dinsmore, who gives us as his authority, one
Healey, the tragedian's dresser about tin's period. After leaving
the services of Brooke, Healey started in business for himself as a
hairdresser in Manchester. He is now dead some years, but his
widow still persists in maintaining "the trutli of the story, and
adds that Brooke was a man of great courage and determination
when his mind was once made up. The tragedian never paid a
visit to Manchester in after years without looking up his old
servant ; and Mrs, Healey still cherishes a recipe for ginger
beer wliich her husband's old master had copied out in her
house and forgetfully loft on the table when departing. Li one
of those intermittent spells of total abstinence to whicli lie was
prone in liis liours of remorse, Mrs, Healey had tliouglitfuUy
supplied liini wiili llif; iiii-iiifoxicating beverage, iind lie now
desired to learn of the ingredients. Dropping in upon the
Hcaloys on one occasion wlion lie lind nnt l)ri)l<on liis fast for
A Iiealistic Death- Scene. 09
twenty-four hours, ho discovered the whilom dresser's wife in
the act of boihng potatoes, Irish fashion, in their "jackets."
The good woman saw at a glance what was wrong, and holding
out a large flowery potato on a fork said tantalisingly, " If you
don't cat this I'll say you are no Irishman." Brooke laughed,
took the potato, removed tlie skin after the primitive fashion
of Adam, and finally devoured it with avidity. Then amid
his mouthfuls he ejaculated that not for a long time had he
relished anything so hugely. Keenly appreciative of the simple
kindness of the Healeys, the tragedian, after Marie Buret's
elopement, bestowed them a portrait of that fair deceiver which
lie had carried about in his breast pocket for years.
On appearing in Rochdale under the management of his old
friend James Rodgers, Brooke was soon compensated for his chilling
reception in Wigan. So great a favourite, indeed, did ho become
here that mine host of the Wellington, where he stayed, refused
to take a penny for his board and lodging. Boniface evidently
deemed himself sufticiently recompensed by the galaxy of choice
spirits whom Brooke's genial presence attracted daily to his house.
Mr. J. B. Howe, then a member of the local stock company,
relates that on the night A Xeir TFr/// to I'dij Old Jk-bts was
performed (with himself as All worth and Brooke as Sir Giles), so
terrifying in its reality was the tragedian's '• death" scene that a
well-known Rochdale physician, happening to be among the
audience, hastened behind to give the actor his professional
assistance., verily believing that simulation had merged into
actuality, and culminated in a fit of apoplexy. One can realise
the intensity of Brooke's acting in this scene when it is recorded
that he has been known to lie prostrate for a quarter of an hour
after the falling of the curtain — utterly dominated and over-
come by the Frankenstein of his own creating. Well-nigh a
quarter of a century afterwards Mr. Howe, when starring in
Melbourne, had the pleasure of identifying the young medical
man in Doctor Neild, then, and for many years previously,
prominently associated with the Australian press as dramatic
critic.
70 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
" The next niglit," relates Mr. Howe in his " Cosmopohtan
Actor," " Otlullo and His Last Legs was the bill, in the
cast of which I was included as Charlss Rivers. Shall I ever
cease to remember ('No, not while memory holds a seat in this
distracted globe ') the awe and wonder I felt as I saw the
' Dusky Moor ' emerge from his little dressing-room, when a
dark-faced, black-eyed woman, in black satin, Marie Duret, was
easing his gorgeous robe to allow it to pass the little narrow
passage on to the stage. As Grimaldi says, ' He was no more
to me a man, he became a fjod,'' and when he made his first
entrance, with J. Eickards as lago, from the right-hand side, I
thought the applause would literally ' bring down the house,
for it was not a commodious or substantial structure at that
time, and had there been such an institution as the Board of
Works, which nowadays (in London at least) so worries and
perplexes theatrical managers, the place would have been
condemned years before I was born, and I should not have had
the honour of participating in the pleasure of acting with so great
a genius.
" During the progress of the farce of His Last Letjs, a
funny incident occurred, which threatened at one moment to
stop the piece. In one of the scenes, the Doctor O'Toole
(? Felix O'Callaghan) is supposed to put Charles Rivers under
the influence of mesmerism, and the irresistibly comic manner
in which he made his ' passes,' and the extraordinary richness
of an Irish brogue, had so powerful an effect on my risibilities,
that I could not contain myself, and burst out into an
immoderate fit of laughter on the sofa, so prolonged that poor
G. V. joined in, and each was trying to outdo the other, until
the very audience themselves caught it up. and it culminated
in a general burst of almost inexhaustible mirth."
Returning to the Amphitheatre, Hull (then re-named the
Queen's), on or about Saturday, September 25, for a few nights,
Brooke proved very condescending, acting second parts to
Stuart, who was subsecxuently to reverse positions with him at
the Olympic. Thus on the 27th and 28th we find him
ikirrij Sullivan. • 71
playing De Mauprat and Sir Tlioraas Clifford, to the Richelieu
and Master Walter of Stuart, and the Julie and Helen of Marie
Duret. On the 29th Brooke had a benefit, when I hr Uunc/ihfirk
was followed by a novelty in the shape of Tain and Jemj : or,
JAff in London, with the Inni'tkutire as Corinthian Tom.
"Tickets to be had of Mr. G. V. Brooke, 11 Osborne Street."
Henry Holl (who also supported Brooke during his famous Olympic
engagement) had his appeal on Thursday, October 7, when he
played Cassio to the Othello of Stuart, the lago of Brooke,
the Desdemona of Miss Stuart, and the Emilia of Marie
Duret.
Although the winter season at Manchester was now about
to commence, Brooke still pursued the even tenour of his
starring course, absolved for a time from the necessity of
returning to the Theatre Royal by the managerial arrangements
concluded for the first and second weeks. Barry Sullivan had
now been engaged to share the lead with Gus., and it was he
who supported Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean as Stukely in Tlic
Gamester when the house re-opened on Monday, October 9. On
that day fortnight Brooke made his first appearance this season as
Claude Melnotte, Sullivan playing Richard Parker in the after-
piece of Tlie Mutiny of the Nore. Subsequently Brooke played
the Ghost to Sullivan's Hamlet, Jaffier to his Pierre, and Hamlet
to his Ghost. " Mr. Brooke," says the Guaidinn of Wednesday,
November 3, " falls into what we conceive the common error in
his personation of 'the gentle Hamlet' by imparting to it too
much energy ; and thus we have the anomaly of self-reproaches
for irresolution declaimed with the boisterous energy of a man
with whom manifestly ' all-ready execution on the will attends.'
Perhaps his best scenes were that in which he fools Polonius about
the cloud, and that wherein he receives the challenge through
Osric ; his quiet dignity in the latter scene was striking."
On the Monday previously Brooke had played Isaac of York
in Ininhoe to the Front de Bwuf of Barr} Sullivan and the Wilfred
of Henry Holl. The piece became popular, and was presented
several times ; but the (iuardidn considered that " Mr. Brooke and
7
Gustavus Vaufjlian Brooke.
Mr. Sullivan might have advantageously changed parts as the Jew
and the Templar. We think Mr. Brooke would have imparted
more of the chivalrous spirit to the latter ; and Mr. Sulhvan
would probably have imparted more intensity with less physical
vigour to the ancient Israelite."
On Monday, November 8, Miss Glyn, who had been ably
schooled by Charles Kemble, made her first appearance on any
stage as Constance in Khi<i John, giving, for a novice, an artistic
and refined rendering of the character. Henry Holl was the
Faulcoiibridge, and Marie ^Yilton Prince Arthur. " Mr. Brooke's
King John," says the h'.niiitinvr, " was, as is customary with
that gentleman, a mixed performance — some passages of it, the
famous one with Hubert for instance, being given with great
delicacy and truth of conception." On the loth following Brooke
played Edgar to the Lear of Barry Sullivan, and on the 19th
Leontes, in Jlw Winter's Tale, to the Hermione of Miss Glyn
and Mamillius of Marie Wilton. Subsequently he acted Brutus
to Sullivan's Cassius, Eomeo to his Friar Lawrence, and Ulric
to his Werner. His last appearance at the Theatre Eoyal
before entering upon his famous Olympic engagement appears
to have been on November 25, when he played Durimel in The
Point of Honour.
Either immediately before or after his engagement at this
house Cprobably after — but the point is difficult to determine)
Brooke performed for some little time at the City Theatre in
Manchester — a wooden building, previously known as Cooke's
Circus, occupying a site now covered by a warehouse adjoining
the premises of the Young Men's ('hristian Association in
Mount Street and Peter Street. Although nominally inferior
to the two other houses, the City Theatre had the finest
company in Manchester, retaining as it did the services of
James Browne, Henry j'edford, ^^'llliam Davidgo, and Sam.
Emery. Opposite the theatre was a tavern known as the Alton
House where the members of the three stock companies were wont
to meet. Mr. Jchn Coleman, who was acting at the Queen's
Theatre at this period, tells us, in some sympathetic but not
Arrested in Manchester. 73
altogether trustworthy recollections of Brooke,* how ho chanced
to acquire the friendsliip of tlio tragedian. Returning liomewards
from the theatre one niglit lie ran across Barry Sullivan in
company with ]^>rowne the comedian, and the trio adjourned for
refreshment to the Alton House. " Oiu- principal topic of
conversation," writes Mr. Coleman, " was the arrest of Brooke as
he was going on the stage that niglit. It was his benefit, and the
manager had been obliged to get him out of durance to enable him
to keep faith with the public. While we were discussing the
incident a row was heard outside, and a handsome young fellow
entered the room, in animated altercation with a cab-man about
his fare. The stranger, who spoke with a delicious Dublin
brogue, w^as fair-complexioned, with an oval face, fair hair, and
blue eyes.f He stood about five feet ten or higher, was broad
chested, straight as a dart, and apparently was about five-and-
twenty or thirty years of age. His dress was peculiar to
eccentricity. He wore a drab cloth overcoat with a cape, a large
blue silk muffler was twisted carelessly round his neck, and a
white hat was perched on one side of his head. Although I had
never seen hira in my life I felt instinctively this must be Brooke.
I was not left long in doubt upon the subject, for wlien he came
to our end of the room Sullivan introduced us to each other, and
a delightful time we had of it till we broke up about two in the
morning."
While sharing the lead together at the Royal, Sullivan and
Brooke were the best of friends. " It was in our joint dressing-
room," said Barry Sullivan once to an interviewer, " that Brooke
made his engagement witli Captain Spicer to appear at the
Olympic. He consulted me all through, showed me the letters,
and asked my advice."
Captious and hypercritical as Avere the Manchester scribes
at this period, there can be little doubt that the severe and not
* See " A Lost Tragedian," in Lomjman's Magazine, March, 1885.
tTlie lack of expiesfcion in IJrooke's eyes (previou-sly spoken of) aiipeais
to have arisen as much as anything from their indeterminate colour. His
only surviving sister says they were "dark grey."
7i
Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
altogether undeserved strictures passed from time to time on
Brooke's acting were not without their influence upon the
tragedian when he elected to hazard his fortunes in London.
Nothing, if not consistent in their attitude, and unconsciously
jibing at their own power, the local critics were quite overcome
with wonder at the result of the venture. " The leading journals,"
says the Mauvhcstey Times of January 8, 1848— "the leading
journals are unanimous in their praise of his person, style, and
manner, giving him, indeed, more credit for genius than we
should feel disposed to allow."
|[praJ rnj rriJra r^ !!^^ fgj fgJ ra raJ rn j pEi rg TrglMJ?
i
I
^.^
wm
CHAPTER V.
1848-1849.
Uu the Eve of a Tryinj? Event — Brooke's debut at the Ulyinpic — A
Capricious Audience Triumphantly Overcome — Hailed by the Press
as Edmund Kean's Successor — Brooke and Salvini contrasted —
Disappointing liesult of the Olympic Engagement — Brooke Kefuses
Benjamin Webster's ^lunificent Oder— IJeturns to the Provinces —
Influence of his Acting on the Edinburgh Students — Richard the
Third's Wig; a Saddening S])ectacle— Brooke's ^'ocal Organ becomes
Imi)aired — "Shallows and Miseries" of Provincial Strolling— A
Startling Series of Coincidences— Brooke's "Lines on the Death of
Elton" — Readings from Shakespeare— Letters to ^lorris — How the
Money Went.
AFTER biding his time with a patience that did him credit,
. Brooke had, all unconsciously," hit upon a very opportune
moment for making bis appearance in London. Everyone felt
instinctively, in 18-18, that Macready was fast approaching the
period of his retirement ; but popular acclamation had not as yet
decided upon his successor in the tragic throne. Inclined for the
most part to declare their allegiance to old faiths, playgoers had
well-nigh despaired of once more beholding an unflinching
exponent of the grand conventions of classic tragedy, when
Gustavus Brooke burst upon the town. Possessing attributes of
voice, gesture, and physique, entirely in consonance with the
best-remembered traditions of the " palmy days,"' it is little to be
wondered at that the new comer met with instantaneous success.
But, alas ! the event that looked like marking an epoch in the
English drama proved a mere impermanent eddy on the current
76 ■ Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
of theatrical affairs. All too soon poor Brooke tested to the
full the truth of the Master's lines : —
"There is a tide in the afTairs of Men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries."
But ^ve question if, with a happier issue, things would have
turned out better in the end. Capable as he was by natural
endowment of seating himself in the tragic throne, Brooke had
none of the qualities which go to make the successful actor-
manager. Unfortunate as Avas his after-career, it would have been
still more unfortunate had advancing years found him at the
head of a metropolitan theatre when the pre-Raphaelite spirit
extended its influence to the drama, and, in smothering Shakespeare
in archaeological detail, demanded of the stage director something
of the attributes of the pictorial artist and the antiquary.
Not the least prominent among the few persons living who
made Brooke's acquaintance in London immediately prior to his
memorable appearance at the Olympic is Mr. W. C. Day (the
well-known amateur actor and theatrical collector), who tenders
us the following appropriate reminiscences :—" My acquaintance
with him was slight," writes Mr. Day. " A Mr. Calverley
conducted the band generally engaged by an Amateur Dramatic
Club to which I belonged, and hence our companionship.
Calverley— an Irishman — was a bosom friend of Brooke, and led
the orchestra on the Monday night of the latter's debut as Othello.
Brooke's name appeared in large posters on all the hoardings of the
town, and of course I, as leading tragedian of my club, courted
an introduction to the great man. This was given me on Sunday
afternoon, January 2, 1848, at a tavern opposite Somerset
House, in the Strand (either the ' Coach and Horses ' or
' Edinboro' Castle ' — 1 am not clear which), where the two friends
had been dining ni'lcr the final rehearsal of the tragedy on the
OlyUipic stage in the morning. Both were 'pretty fresh'
at the time I entered ihe house, and before leaving it all three
were, to put it truthfully, perfectly 'fuu.' We walked from the
First Ohjmpir Enga(jement,
i i
Strand over Blackfriars' Bridge to Calvcrley's lodgings — a tiu-ning
out of Stamford Street — where we caroused till far into the small
hours of the actor's di'hut. Of the conversation I remember little
more than that Brooke, in a strong Irish brogue, protested
Macready would find a doughty rival in him on the morrow ;
and so impressed Avas I through the potations imbibed, and the
pride of a tHe-a-tcte with such a celebrity, that the pit of the
Olympic on the Monday night contained no more zealous partisan
of the Moor of Venice (when my judgment approved the scene)
tliau myself. His reception was enthusiastic and the applause
uproarious. The play over, I repaired with a party of young
companions to Jackson's, then a noted a-ht-nunh' beef supper-
house in Blackmoor Street, Drury Lane, where the new
tragedian's merits and demerits were freely discussed."
Followed by Horace Mayhew's comic pantomime of
Harlequin ami the British Lion (then running at the theatre by
way of afterpiece), Othello was produced at the Olympic on
Monday, January 3, when Brooke made his first appearance
in London, as an adult, in the name-part. The support was
fair, and comprised Mr. Stuart as lago, Mr. Henry Holl as
Cassio, Mrs. Brougham as Emilia, and Miss Stuart (whose
recent performance of Julia in 2%' Hunchback had been
eminently successful) as Desdemona. Fame had blown so loud
a blast on her trumpet concerning the merits of the new
tragedian, that a large and very distinguished audience,
numbering most of the celebrities of the hour, had assembled
within the walls of the old theatre. Latter-day accounts of this
memorable evening are for the most part conflicting ; but it
would appear that not until the third act had been reached did
Brooke's success become assured. Mr. Coleman's version*
(related on the authority of Mr. "Walter Lacy, an eye-witness,
but nevertheless on some points slightly inaccurate), proceeds to
* Alhisions to INIr. Coleman throughout are to be taken as referring
to his article on I'looke in Long/nun's Magazine : tlie greater p.art of
wliich was afterwards republished in that gentleman's " I'layers and
Playwrights I have Met."
78 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
show how the house was bad, and the audience so unsympathetic
or antagonistic that tlie debutant made no headway until the
second act. At this juncture the ice was broken by a hicky
incident which we shall permit Mr. Coleman to treat in his own
words : —
" The newspapers of the day," he says, " teemed with
accounts of the gallantry of the Emir of Algeria, Abd'l Kader ;
more particularly of an exploit in which he had rescued a
number of women and children from being roasted alive, by
riding through his blazing camp, sabre in hand, cutting the
tent ropes, and carrying away the poor creatiu-es clinging to his
saddle bow.
"In the quarrel scene, as Othello came rushing down between
the combatants, exclaiming, ' Hold ! for your lives !' as his
scimitar swept through the air it collided with their swords,
making a fiery circle in its flight. The picturesque grandeur of
the action and the magnificence of the por,e so struck a fellow in
the gallery that he roared out, ' Abd'l Kader, by G — !' This
exclamation touched the keynote of sympathy : the house rose at
it, the pit sprang to its feet, the boxes swelled the general chorus
of applause, and from that moment the success of the actor was
assured."
From earlier accounts of that memorable evening it would
appear that after the bold, majestic figure of the Moor had been
hailed at the outset with a lusty shout of approbation, quietness,
the quietness of disappointed expectation, settled down like a pall
over the house. Possibly that obnoxious element known to later
times as " organised opposition" was present in considerable force;
at any rate there was a gradually increasing inattention, coupled
with conversation so loud as to interfere with the harmony of the
performance. Such conduct was certainly not in accordance with
the usual spirit of fair play. Jii tlie biographical notice in Tallis's
DrdiiKiilr Mitiid-.iiif (18.51) it is pointed out that tliis distracting
liubbub continued until tlie beginning of tlic great scene in the
third act, when the uproar in the gallery grew so intolerable that
Mr. Perkins, the stage manager, came forward and complained
Victor }j ! 79
that they were not permitting Mr. Brooke to do justice to himself,
and were acting without their customary generosity. Strange
to say, the house took this well-merited rebuke in good part and
set up a loud cheer to re-assure the insulted actor. Meanwhile
poor Brooke had retired to a couch at the back of the stage
and there sat him down, miserable and dejected, with a look
of mute appeal in his eyes, which, despite his black visage,
went straight to the hearts of the audience. After another
encouraging round of applause, Brooke and Stuart proceeded
with the scene amid the most respectful attention. Some
corroboration is afforded us of this statement by the Miiinituj
Pi)st of the following day, which points out that as Othello's
suspicions of the fidelity of Desdemona gained strength
" the acting was distinguished by a mental power that was
extraordinary ; and then the abounding trustfulness and the
casting forth all doubts of her truth, seemed for the instant to
quell the power of the tempter. The battling with the growing
doubts, and the determination to believe no evil of the loved
object were marvellously delineated."
At the termination of Othello's speech, commencing —
" Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousj'^,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicion ? "
the audience, which at first had been so cold and froward, rose
as one man, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and cheering so
lustily as to startle the passers-by in the street. From that
moment success was assured. Invigorated by this remarkable
change of face, Brooke renewed his energies and played with
a sublimity of passion that evoked round after round of applause,
until the conclusion of the scene. " At the end of the third act,"
says Dr. Westland Marston in the chapter on Brooke in his
scholarly work, "Our Recent Actors" — "at the end of the third
act the house was in a fever of delight. The acclamations which
recalled the actor subsided only into a restless murmur of
applause. Knots of impromptu critics gathered together in boxes
and lobby. In the pit looks and gestures and a hum of delight
80 Giistavus Vaughan Brooke.
expressed the general verdict ; and outside the theatre a crowd,
attracted by the rumour of the effect produced, recalled the
account given of the scene outside Drury Lane on Edmund
Kean's first appearance." Acting with undiminished vigour to
the end, Brooke never loosened his hold upon the audience,
keeping them in a fervour of enthusiasm, the like of which had
not been paralleled within recent memory, save on the occasion
of Mrs. Nisbett's return to the Haymarket. Next day the
critics, with one noteworthy excejition, joined in singing the
praises of the new actor. The dissentient was John Forster,
of Tlic Examiner, whose violent partisanship of Macready was
patent in theatrical circles. To the abuse showered upon Edwin
Forrest's head by this eminent writer must be attributed those
regretable scenes of bloodshed and disorder which followed in
America, and left such a blot on international amity. Let us
hearken, however, to one or two of the most powerful voices in
the chorus. Said TIic Times : —
" It is long since a theatre has presented such an
appearance of excitement as that of the Olympic last night.
Mr. Gustavus Brooke had been announced to make his
London debut in the character of Othello, and enough had
been said of his provmcial celebrity to justify general
expectation. The house was crowded ; but the mere statement
of this fact is not suflicient to convey a notion of the
peculiar aspect. There is a great difference in the people who
make up crowds ; and the audience who were assembled to see
Mr. Brooke were just those persons who could be picked out by
an luihitue as likely to interest themselves in theatrical affairs —
in a word, the connoisseurs of the metropolis.
" Mr. Brooke's first entrance created an impression in his
favour. He has a tall, commanding figure, and a face evidently
liandsomc, in spite of the disfigurement of the dark luio, which
gives somewhat of grace to every marked movement of Othello's
countenance. His voice is of excellent quality — deep and
sonorous, and this quality is never lost, however strong the
utterance of passion.
What ''The Times'' said. 81
" The first two acts rather gave the notion of an eloquent
declaimer than of a man of fire and passion. The reading was
excellent, the voice well modulated, the emphasis carefully
adjusted. An air of commanding dignity was spread over all this
early portion of the performance, and the only fear was that the
whole would prove too quiet and measured, and at last seem
monotonous. A well-conceived display of indignation at the
brawl in which Cassio is involved led to a contrary supposition ;
but still the third act was anxiously expected as a test.
" Through this great ordeal of the third act — of the dialogue
with lago — Mr. Brooke passed most triumphantly. Here he
showed that he was a man, not only of form, but of substance.
His bursts of jealous passion came down with terrific weight,
and whether he soared on the wings of rage, or sank exhausted
beneath its force, all was fresh, energetic, and genial. There was
nothing in his points to suggest a reminiscence of other actors.
Indeed, in the ordinary sense of the word, he can hardly be said
to have made a ' point ' at all, of such a continuous, sustained
character was his acting. And be it remarked, that the correct-
ness and sound judgment which were visible in his earlier
speeches did not forsake him when he abandoned himself to the
more violent outbursts of passion. As he preserved his voice, so
likewise did he preserve his head, however great the storm of
emotion.
" But if we would mark the most striking features of Mr.
Brooke's representation of Othello, we would indicate those
passages in which the undercurrent of grief is forced up into the
midst of jealous rage. Lines, and parts of lines, whicli he
delivered were in this respect exquisitely touching, and evidently
resulted from original conception. The exclamation, ' Damn her,
lewd minx; oh, damn her,' when he gave an expression of sorrow
to the repetition of the curse, is a remarkable case in point.
Indeed, all the mournful side of Othello's position he had
conceived with great delicacy. The break of the voice into
weeping at the words, ' Othello's occupation's gone,' and, above
all, the deep anguish when he said, 'Fool, fool, fool,' after the
82 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
discovery of tlie villainy that liad been practised upon liim, were
touches of the deepest pathos.
" There is no mistake about the success of Mr. Brooke. It
was not only a success marked by plaudits, but by the conversation
of the old theatrical loungers. He was called with enthusiasm,
and has excited an interest which will not speedily subside."
" With the single exception of Edmund Kean," remarked the
Morning Post, " we have seen no such Othello. There is the
same fierce energy — the same melting tenderness — the same
lightning glance. There are no mannerisms, no traditional
readings, no copying of the styles of this or that celebrated actor :
the Moor of Venice is placed before us in his true dignity, his
love, his doubts, and agony. As each passion is evolved, we are
swayed hither and thither at the will of the actor, and are only
awakened from the cunning of the scene by the loud bravos of
the audience. The ruling excellency of Mr. Gustavus Brooke's
acting consists in its manliness and truthfulness, combined with
an amount of physical power equal to the sustaining the largest
demands of the heroical drama. Every passage of the play has
been studied with a full appreciation of its moral truth and
poetical beauty. No one phasis of the character was rendered
unduly prominent ; the dignity of the noble IMoor, the
commander of the Venetian forces, was never for an instant
forgotten. The famous speech to the Senate was enunciated with
admirable effect, and the turning from the Duke to Brabantio
at the words ' Her father loved me, oft invited me,' was
admirably conceived."
Agreeing in the main with the opinion expressed by The
Times critic. Dr. Westland j\Iarston, in his admirable analysis of
Brooke's first performance, points out that while his delivery
of the line —
"O fool ! fool ! fool !"
was in accordance with the traditions of the elder Kean, the
rendering was so far in harmony with the entire conception of
the character that no suspicion of copying could bo entertained.
" The word fool," writes Dr. Marston, *' was pronounced in the
Sahim's Othpllo. 83
first instance with blended amazement and remorse, in the second
witli a musing, lingering sense of his own fatuity as lago's dupe,
and in the third with the quiet hopelessness of one who feels the
past irrevocable." To whicli the writer might have added, as
pointed out by an appreciative Melbourne reviewer, tliat Brooke
uttered the first letter of the word, in its third repetition, Avith a
quiver of the lip peculiar to himself, that eeemed to accentuate
the sob in his voice.
It is noteworthy, likewise, tliat although Dr. Marston saw
Brooke's Othello on several subsequent occasions, he never knew
it to approach the excellence of the first night, when the apathetic
indifference of the audience acted as a stimulant and brought out
the tragedian at his best. Afterwards we are told his Othello,
"while retaining its mechanical outline and its elocutionary force,
had lost much of that reality which tlie spectator feels when
passion dictates expression."
While Mr. Coleman considers Brooke's Othello inferior only
to the conception of Edwin Forrest, Salvini appears in critical
opinion to bear away the palm. Not but the point has been
hotly and very absurdly contested. Manchester playgoers were
very much exercised in considering the matter when Salvini made
his first appearance in their city. Even at that late day the
Brookites — remnants of the "old guard" — were in strong force,
and persisted in sending critical analyses to the papers, showing
that remembrances of the stock favourite of '47 were still
keen.
"It can hardly be said," writes Westland ^larston, "that
Brooke's Othello, even at its best, was equal to Salvini's. The
former, for instance, could never have given us that grand piece of
psychology which occurs in the third act, where Salvini, having
trampled on lago, stands awhile mute and vacant, then, with a
distressed and courteous air, raises the fallen man and leads him
to a chair. What finer illustration could be given of the mental
chaos that follows the Moor's fury ? For the moment Othello
has forgotten his misery and his rage, and wonders at the sight
of the prostrate tempter.
84 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
" There was, nevertheless, one feature in Brooke's passion
which made me prefer it to Salvini's. It had more of the
irregularity and the sudden contrasts which denote extreme
tension of feeling. If excitement ran ever so high it would at
times be driven back, as advancing waves are sometimes by
meeting a gale. There would be frequently a momentary lull,
a false calm of irony, ere the tide again gathered and leaped
on. With all its grandeur and force, Salvini's passion lacked,
I thought, at times the contrast and the variety I have
indicated. It was somewhat too measured and uniform — a sea
that rolled on majestically and irresistibly, but that had no
convulsion; it did not turn and eddy with the wind."
Who shall decide ? Mr. Edmund Yates in his " Eeminiscences "
gives the palm to Brooke, whose Othello, to his mind, had all
the manliness, gallantry, and pathos of Salvini, without a
suggestion of the repulsive violence that marred the Italian
actor's rendering. Surely we have here the keynote to the
radical difference betweeen the two great conceptions of the
character, which are not legitimately comparable in an artistic
sense, and indeed would never have been pitted against each
other had not the superb physical endowments of the two actors
begged a comparison. Brooke's Othello was the climax of the
conventional Moor as rendered by a long line of illustrious
tragedians, who had sought by a slow process of idealisation —
keeping pace from time to time with the progress of refinement
— to imbue the character with a romantic spirit, and thus to
mitigate the barbaric frankness and rugged animalism of the
tragedy.
Untrammelled by tradition, Salvini arrived at the Othello
of Shakespeare by resuscitating the mediasval Moor in all his
elemental and brutal simplicity. With the single exception of
Edwin Forrest, whose rendering of the character had something
of Salvini's repugnant violence and sensuality, no other actor
within living memory has dared to present the true and
un-idealiscd Othello. The measure of tlie dilTerence between
Salvini and Brooke is as the measure of the difference between
His Sir Giles. 85
the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries. It is purely a
question of taste, and the modern stage seeks refinement in
poetic drama, not reahstic brutahty.
Beside the warm enthusiasm of press and public, Brooke
at once received material recognition of his success in the
raising of his salary. Mr. Coleman, on the authority of Captain
Spicer (the real head of ali'airs at the Olympic, although a Mr.
Davidson figured as nominal lessee on the bills), states that the
original agreement was £10 a week, and that the terms were
increased to £60 after the first performance. This would appear
conclusive. But it is singular that in the biographical notice in
Talliss MiKjuzinc (evidently inspired by its subject) the writer
informs us that Brooke's original salary of £25 a week to play
alternate nights was at once doubled.
Brooke gave twenty-four successive representations of Othello
at the Olympic (not thirty as has so frequently been stated), or
twenty-seven in all, before the termination of his engagement
on March 25. On January 31, he appeared as Sir Giles
Over-reach, repeating the impersonation seven times successively,
or eleven in all. The Times, strange to say, neglected to notice
the performance, but the other papers were sufficiently enthusiastic
to make up for the deficiency. The Sun considered that his
acting " more than justified the most ardent hopes which had
been formed by all admirers of the drama from his impersonation
of Othello. No such actor has appeared on the boards since
Edmund Keau ; and Mr. Brooke's performance of Sir Giles did
not fall far short of that of Edmund Kean, in this his greatest
character. The third act was a masterpiece of wheedling and
villainy ; and in the scene with his daughter, the ' kiss close '
was given with immense effect. It is the closing scene of the
play, however, which is Mr. Brooke's great triumph. Here we
have a succession of violent contrasts, of bright light and dark
shadows, and it was in setting oil" these contrasts — in bringing
out these lights and shadows, that Mr. Brooke showed himself
so admirable. The madness of the triumph of the scoundrel at
the success of all his schemes for securing to his daughter
86 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
the band of the popular Lord Lovell, and to himself the
fortune of the Lady ADworth, was admirably given, and
contrasted finely with the agony of despair at finding the deed
securing to him the All worth property a mere blank, and the mad
fury of rage with which he rushes at his daughter, changing
suddenly into the paralysis of death, when he says, ' Some undone
widow sits upon my arm and takes away its strength.' In this
scene he was quite equal to Edmund Kean. Mr. G. V. Brooke is
far and away the greatest actor of the day." "He is stated in
the bills of the day," says the Morninij Adrcrtiscr, "as ' bemg
universally acknowledged to be the greatest living tragedian,'
and certainly if his representation of other characters be equal to
his Sir Giles Over-reach of last night— if not the ' greatest Hving
tragedian,' he is equal to any that now tread the stage. Nothing
could be more exquisite than his conception of the wicked,
ambitious villain who spared no exertions to accomplish his
purpose, and laughed at all moral and religious obligations in the
pursuit of it, and the manner in which he portrayed his feelings
and passions proved him to be gifted with genius of the first
order."
It is necessary here to emphasize the good impression created
by Brooke in his second part, because Mr. Coleman, with a
guileless reliance iu club-room gossip, has seen fit to put into
circulation a very different story. After pointing out that Brooke's
youth and high spirits were now leading him headlong into the
vortex of dissipation, Mr. Coleman continues: — "Sometimes he
sought relief from these ignoble occupations in rowing and
boating. One day he rowed up the river from Earl's Wharf Pier
to Putney and back; a jovial dinner and skittles and other
diversions followed; then it became necessary to 'put on a spurt'
to get back in time for the performance. It u-as /lia jirst appcuruncc
in tuicn as Sir Giles Over- reach ; there had been no Sir Giles iu
London since Kean's day, and it was characteristic of the man that
Brooke treated so fiery an ordeal so lightly. When he arrived
at the theatre, it was long past the time of commencement; the
audience (a densely crowded one) were already impatient ; it
His I?icJiard the Tliird. 87
was three quarters of an liour late when the curtain rose, but
the delay was condoned, and lie was received with unusual
enthusiasm. He wore a new dress that niglit ; the heat was
overpowering, and ho was in a lialli of perspiration, arising
principally from the hasty pull down the river. At the end of the
first act he desired his dresser to strip off his singlet ; the new
canvas lining of the dress was damp ; a chill struck to his
lungs ; by the time he reached his great scene in the fifth act
he u'cis tutalbj inaxulHde, and his failure was as complete in Sir
Giles as his triumph had been assured in Othello. Instead of
resting and nursing himself, he tried to fight off his malady
with drink ; but he got worse and worse, collapsed utterly, and
left the theatre."
It would be interesting to learn Mr. Coleman's authority for
this extraordinary effort of the imagination ; likewise for the
statement that when Brooke became the talk of the town " his
admirers alleged that he was the greatest Othello since Kean,
that he was also the beau-ideal of Romeo, Claude Melnotte,
and Ion." It will be remarked that the three last-mentioned
characters were not among those presented by the tragedian
during his first Olympic engagement.
The announcement of Brooke's appearance as Richard III.
on Thursday, February 17, produced great excitement among
the frequenters of the little Wych Street Theatre, and caused
them to muster in such strong force as to crowd the very
lobbies of the boxes shortly after the opening of the doors.
" Mr. Brooke's performance," says The Times, evidently wakened
up at last — " Mr. Brooke's performance excited the greatest
enthusiasm, but still it is doubtful whether the parts that he
has acted after Othello have been wisely chosen. Whatever
may be said of the difficulties of Othello, it is a straightforward
character throughout. For Sir Giles Over-reach new qualities
were required, and though Mr. Brooke could throw much force
into the fifth act he made comparatively little of the subtle
usurer as displayed in the first four. Something similar may
be said of the Richard, which is played after Colley Gibber's
88 Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
version. Mr. Brooke's best act was the last, in which the
greatest physical energy is required, but there was a want of
delicate discrimination in the earlier portions to give effect to
all these little points of irony and sarcasm with which the
character is studded. In physical qualities nature has been very
liberal to Mr. Brooke. There is strength in his voice and
form, and all that he does has certain weight. The combat
could scarcely have been fought with a fiercer energy, and the
convulsions of death were well rendered ; but Mr. Brooke should
husband his force to a greater degree. By employing it too early
he produces a monotony of effect, and destroys the variations
of the character. In the first scenes his best passages were
those of quiet declamation. In all where mere subtlety is
required he seems to aim at greater violence. His Richard is
a strong, earnest, vigorous, but not a sufficiently intellectual
performance."
After some half dozen representations of Rkhard III. the
tragedy gave way on March 2 to Hmnh't, which appears only
to have been performed four times in all. Eminently princely
and natural as was the characterisation, Brooke's over-studious
attention to his personal appearance gave the spectator rather the
impression of the Apollo Belvidere neatly arrayed in black velvet
than of the distraught Dane. After pointing out that Hamlet
was the highest test of the actor's powers, both intellectually and
physically, the Morning Post proceeds to say — " Greatly as we
thought of his Othello, and genially as we hailed his advent on
London boards, we confess that we were little prepared for so lofty
a conception, so scholarlike an appreciation, so consistent and
artist-hke development. Every point was carefully considered ;
there was an utter absence of stage mechanism, and there were no
tricks of voice to astonish the lovers of startling effects."
The Murninij Advertiser considered that " with all Mr.
Brooke's gifts and talent, there appeared in his delineation a
leaning more on physical display for effect than on the less
corporeal, hence more spiritual, evolvings of the nicer, the deeper,
and the darker shades of character. Mr. Brooke's personation of
His Hamlet. 89
the moody and pliilosopliic Prince of Denmark was anticipated
with no ordinary interest. In all that could be acquired, even his
opponents accorded him the vantage-ground — ' cunning of fence,'
a feather in the cap of youth, a good voice, fine person, nice
discrimination, and so forth ; tliese are great adjuncts in the
personation of Uiiuilct, and Mr. Broolce possesses them all ; and
in addition to them a tolerable idea of reading the author's text.
It must, however, be admitted that the conception was in some
degree imperfect ; it was wanting in unity and completeness ;
portions of it exhibited much careful study and intellect, while
others were less perfect and effective. With regard to originality,
the personation is strongly marked with it throughout, for in no
one scene does the actor for a moment forget himself by falling
into the vice of imitation. This was especially the case in the
reading of the play, as an instance of which we may mention the
speech which occurs immediately after the interview with the
Ghost, and when importuned by Horatio and Marcellus as to the
import of his converse with the spirit, he takes the former aside,
as if to inform him, and finding that the latter is about to follow,
he turns upon him sharply and exclaims —
'"For your desire to know what is between us,
O'ermaster it as you may.'
" This is usually addressed to both parties, but Mr. Brooke's
understanding of the lines appears to be more in consonance
with the aftei* parts of the play, and accords better with the
spirit of friendship which is supposed to exist between the
Prince and Horatio. Again, the advice to the actor was given
seated, not in an overbearing manner, but gentle and persuasive,
each word having its full weight, and the whole apparently coming
from one who had been offended to the soul by the strutting
and bellowing of the players he had seen. The soliloquies were
uttered in an impressive and scholar-like manner, but in the
more impassioned scenes there was an absence of depth and
feeling, although they were energetic. The applause bestowed
upon Mr. Brooke was of a most flattering nature, sometimes
90 Gustavus Vaugliari Brooke.
inconveniently so to the actor, for several passages were entirely
lost by that means."
On March 13 Brooke played Shy lock for the first and only
time, and two nights after gave a sound characterisation
of Master Walter. The engagement terminated on Thursday,
March 23, with Mr;/iniits, in which Brooke approached perilously
close to the excellence of Macready, though in a widely
different manner. The former actor's was the more severely
classic rendering ; the latter's the more poetically-realistic.
During his off-nights at the Olympic (when Miss Glyn and
others enjoyed a measure of popularity) Brooke occasionally
performed elsewhere. Thus, supported by Marie Duret and the
once celebrated Cobham, he played Othello at Brighton on
February 16 to an audience representing some £110. After the
conclusion of his Olympic engagement he made several one-night
appearances here, always in association with Marie Duret.
Londou-super-Mare saw his Master Walter on April 28 ; his
Hamlet on May 3 ; and early in August he fulfilled an engagement
there of six nights' duration.
Meanwhile his Olyiiipic engagement had not created the
sensation to be augured from his first-night reception. After
defeating an audience whose callous indifference aroused all the
combativeness in his Irish blood, he seems to have relapsed
somewhat into the old happy-go-lucky methods so searchingly
dealt with by the Manchester critics. There can be little
doubt that the man whose portrait was in every shop window
— whose name was on every playgoer's tongue — lost his head
over the success to which he had looked forward so patiently
during many weary years. It soon became apparent that the
glamour which had thrown its terrible spells over George Frederick
Cooke and Edmund Kean had claimed another victim in the new
star, clouding his genius and rendenng his future painfully
uncertain. Beloved by all witli whom ho came in contact, as
warm in his attachments as he was modest in forming them,
Brooke never extended to himself the same fraternal solicitude
he meted out to others. Alas! "No man's enemy but
First Orvjinal Character. 91
his own," has oftentimes the direst and most unrelenting of
foes to contend against. What excessive porter drinking began,
the ravages of bronchitis ended. The matchless chest voice, full
and sonorous, with just a touch of nasality, was gone for ever.
But there were crumbs of consolation for the admirers of Brooke,
in the fact that witli it went the rant born of excessive physical
vigour and the elocutionary tricks which had previously given
an artificial tone to his acting.
Years, however, were to elapse ere Brooke found himself
utterly discredited in Jjondon. On the termination of his
Olympic engagement, Benjamin Webster had made him the
princely offer of £15 a night for one hundred nights certain, to
place himself at the head of the fine company then playing
at the Haymarket. This he was capricious enough to dechne,
preferring to make an immediate return to the provinces. After
an absence of six or seven weeks, during which he appeared
at the Queen's Theatre, Hull, and elsewhere, in association
with the inevitable Duret, Brooke retraced his steps to the
Olympic, where Anna Cora Mowatt and E. L. Davenport had
meanwhile been appearing with satisfactory results. Uniting
his forces temporarily with the American artists, he made his
reappearance on Wednesday, May 17, as Laurency in Henry
Spicer's new five-act tragedy, TJie Lords of Ellinr/haui.
Speaking of this piece in her "Autobiography," as published in
1854, Mrs. Mowatt informs us that while E. L. Davenport
was considerably applauded in his portrayal of the confiding,
noble-minded Dudley Latigmer, Brooke's rendering, on the
other hand, of the audacious villainy of Laurency proved
dangerously captivating. This, the first character "created"
by Brooke during his fifteen years' stage experience, was indeed
very favourably received, and would doubtless have Jeft a more
lasting impression had the play been strong enough to warrant
an extended run. " On W^ednesday," says the Literary Gazette
of May 20, " the great test of Mr. G. V. Brooke's capa-
bilities as an actor of the first rank was made at this theatre.
A new play by the author of Hunesty, JmUje Jeffreys, etc.,
92 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
■written long ago, but now first adapted for representation,
and called The Lords of Ellhujhaiii, was the occasion, and we
must say that the impression left upon us by Mr. Brooke's
delineation of his first original part is very favourable. There
were more study and carefulness in the delineation, nicer
discrimination and appreciation of detail in his development
of the character of Lawrency (sic) than have marked any of his
preceding efforts ; indeed, the whole was a fine, manly, forcible
piece of acting, and the declamatory burst in the last scene was
as effective as anything of the kind could be. The Lords of
Ellbviham is rather a heavy drama, and the plot does not develop
itself with sufficient clearness during the progress of the play,
though it is apparent enough when all is ended, and it has other
faults which make it drag on rather heavily ; still there are some
well conceived situations, and the action is frequently well sustained,
and there are many poetical beauties spread over the dialogue.
The play has been well put upon the stage, is characteristically
dressed, and the scenery is in every respect worthy of great praise.
After Mr. Brooke, the principal parts were very carefully played
by Mrs. Mowatt, Miss Marie Buret, Mr. Davenport, and Mr. H.
Holl, not forgetting a minor one of a surly old gaoler, capitally
done by Mr. Stirling."
After the brief run of the new tragedy Brooke returned once
more to his old love, the provinces. Flitting hither and thither,
we find him on Monday, November 20, making his first appearance
as an adult actor at Edinburgh, where he was rapturously received
during his fortnight's sojourn. The anonymous Avriter in the
Australian Ma<jazine, already referred to, was at this period one of
the many students under Sir William Hamilton and the " old man
eloquent," Christopher North, the humdrum course of whose
winter session was pleasantly broken in upon by the arrival of
the tragedian. " I was then," he remarks, " studying our English
literature under the guidance of Professor Aytoun — Aytoun of
Bladavood and ' Bon Gaultier's Ballads' — and was greatly struck
with the clear light which my own experience of a great actor's
power shed upon many a byway of literature ; contemporary
The Provinces. 93
allusions to a Betterton, a Garrick, a Siddons, or a Kean no longer
seemed written in an unknown tongue. Nor was I a solitary
enthusiast. My fellow-students caught the infection ; high
discourse held we about the drama and the laws of dramatic
expression and the unities ; and still to one settled conclusion
all our discussions led — that the great actor, and he alone, was
the man most to be envied, his lot the most to be desii-ed."
Sad to say, while Brooke was thus firing the imaginations
of those still on the threshold of life, the ebbing of the tide
found him experiencing those shallows and miseries of a stroller's
course, which, although not new, came with added bitterness after
the sweets of success.
Towards the middle of January, 1849, we find him acting
at the Theatre Royal, Hull (under the management of Pritchard,
then director of the York Circuit), where ho gained considerable
applause in his personation of Leontes in TJic Winter's Tale.
After pursuing a somewhat precarious course in the provinces
he returned to London with empty pockets and no immediate
prospect of an engagement. This was some little time before
the disastrous fire at the Olympic in March.
" His finances," writes Mr. W. C. Day to us, " had long
been at a low ebb, and a few friends suggested that a benefit
at the Olympic — the scene of his early triumphs — might
possibly bring some grist to the mill. A scratch company was
engaged, and Bichanl III. announced. By the way, I acted
Tressel on that memorable night — memorable for the strange
incident that follows.
"A lady with whom Brooke was then living attended him
at the wing, a large black cloak over her arm, and a rummer
of hot brandy and water in her hand ; the foi'mer she threw
over his shoulders with every exit, and the latter she handed
him with every entrance. ' Hurrah ! ' exclaimed the Jezebel,
as Glo'ster made his first entrance, 'Hurrah! Gustavus is on
his own boards again !' As the play proceeded the glass was
replenished more than once, and by the time the last act was
reached the representative of the House of York was three sheets
94 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
in the wind. He wore a jet black wig with ringlets, which, in the
fight with Richmond, shifted its position ; he endeavoured to set
it right in vain ; another trial and yet another ; still the obstinate
' jazey ' refused to be adjusted. At last, boiling with rage, and
midst shouts of merriment, he forced it violently off his head,
and finished the combat with his head-gear in his hand. When
you remember that Brooke's own hair was vcnj fair, the absurdity
of the scene may be imagined. This I witnessed from the first
wing, and though convulsed with laughter could not but feel
grieved — remembering bygones — at the painful exhibition."
To add to these indiscretions the' luckless tragedian was now
about to permit Marie Duret, the lady in question, to act on the
stage under the protection of his name. When they appeared
together for one night at the Theatre Royal, Dublin, on Saturday,
June 23, for J. W. Calcraft's benefit (before a distinguished
assemblage, comprising, among others, the Lord Lieutenant and
the Countess of Clarendon), it was as Mr. and Mrs. G. V. Brooke
that their names were placed opposite the parts of Julian St.
Pierre and Marianna in the programme. The soi-disant Mrs.
also gave a capital performance of the Widow Cheerly in the
afterpiece of The Soldier s DaiKjhtcr. Brooke and the lady upon
whom he had conferred brevet honours, received a call at the
end of The Wife and were loudly cheered. The press notices of
the following Monday sound the first note of warning regarding
the breakdown in the tragedian's voice. While the Freeman was
glad to perceive that he had "in a great measure acquired the
clear resonance and fine intonation of voice that so pre-eminently
marked his dramatic readings, but which has suffered for a time
some detriment through his recent illness"; Saimdcrn's Neivs-
Letter, on tlie other hand, says, " he seemed to be labouring
under the effects of recent cold, for his voice was broken at
intervals, but his delineation of the part was earnest and
impressive ; it abounded in line and telling points — at times,
perhaps, partaking of the melodramatic, but keeping the interest
awake to the close. He was most favourably received and warmly
applauded during tlic evening."
Stranger than Fiction. 9$
We have now occasion to refer to an extraordinary
circumstance, which, as a link in a chain of starthng
coincidences, must appeal to all believers in tlie doctrine of
fatalism. When Tyrone Power, the Irish comedian, was lost in
the President, while returning from America towards the middle
of March, 1811, Elton, the well-known tragedian, is reputed to
have remarked, " I think I can imagine the exact manner
in which Power must have felt when the waves first
rushed over his head. I can fancy the lights of the'
Haymarket Theatre flashing before his eyes, and the roaring of
the waves taking the sound of a burst of applause." A little
more than two years afterwards (on July 18, 1843) Elton himself
met with a similar dreadful fate when the Pegasus foundered on
the passage from Leith to Hull. Brooke, who appears to have
made Elton's acquaintance in Scotland (he spoke of him once as
"a good actor and a good man"), was very much impressed by
the circumstances of his " taking off," and evidently reverted to
the subject again and again. Considering that he had no
particular penchant for poetical composition, it is a strange fact
that while sojourning in the bosom of his family about the
period of his appearance for Calcraft's benefit, he went to the
trouble of inditing an elegy on the death of the hapless tragedian.
Seeing that he himself was fated to have his epitaph " writ in
water," we think fit to append the hitherto unpubhshed lines
from the original MS., merely premising that the strong rehgious
tone throughout was eminently natural to the writer : —
LINES ON THE DEATH OF MR. ELTON, THE TRAGEDIAN.
When tempted in the morn of life to roam
Far from the pleasures of our native home.
The path seems clear, the valley gemmed with flowers,
Refreshed and wakened by Hopes rainbow showers.
No cloud hangs weeping o'er the distant hill.
No wind disturbs the music of the rill ;
Boldly we venture forth -with laughing eye,
Joy in the heart and promise in the sky.
Too soon, alas ! we reach the mountain's brow
Where serpents coil, and thorny branches grow,
^Vhere natred, malice, hollowness, and crime
96 Gustaviis Vaughan Brooke.
In covert lurk, to sting us in our prime ;
And when we deem Fame's laurell'd wreath our own,
An earthquake comes and hurls us from the throne.
Thus, the "Poor Player," whom the Public inourn
(Pity shall hang [!] a tear upon his urn).
Commenced his early race with prosp'rous giles,
'Til sorrow whistled through his shivering sails
And laid him prostrate ; but the mighty power
Of Mind aroused him in that stormy hour,
And after years of toil on life's rude deck
He reach 'd the gaol (sic!) and found his hopes— a wreck !
Oh ! who can tell the farewell agony
That shook his spirit as the thought of thee—
Wife of his bosom— fluttered o'er his mind.
When he to his Creator's will resigned :
What horrid terrors of the Ocean Queen,
What burning thoughts of what he might have been,
What rapid visions of his lonely home,
His orphans left in poverty to roam,
Press'd on him, as the stealthy [oozy] wave
Stifled his voice, and whirl'd him to his grave.
Yet to the skies did these mute words ascend —
"My children— bless them— God ! be Tliou their friend."
Tlie Pegasus went forth without a cloud
To cast a shade upon Jier swelling shroud.
She cut tlie wave as Queen of Neptune's realm,
" Youth on her prow and pleasure at the helm ;"
Tlie farewell had been said, the last kiss given.
And blessings for her safety wafted up to Heaven !"
'Twas night, her mantle diamonded with stars.
Smiling like angels on the vessel's spars,
That swept along the bosom of the sea
As though in scorn of its immensity.
Of those within her some would seek releif (sic!)
In dreamy slumbers (destined to be brief !)
Some would engage to dieer the stilly hour
In holy converse (sweet entrancing power !)
Others would gaze upon the jewelled skies.
And ponder on their hidden mysteries ;
While some would seat them by the light's pale ray
With minds bent up to read 'til dawn of day.
All occupation had; all sought for ease;
No FKAU was on the wilderness of seas.
Suddenly shrieks are heard— " We split! we split!"
Are cries tiiat rend the air and startle it.
Tlie deck is crowded ; forms half-naked stand
Straining llie sight, to find one spot of land :
Tliey see it not, and yield tlien to despair
And hurry to and fro, with liorrid glare ;
Whi'u one loud voice exclaims, " 'i'o piMyt-r! To prayer ! ".
Th". Di-nth of Elton. KM
'Tis lie ; the man, from wliom liop-' never llics,
The sinner's frieiul, the legate of the skies ;
The minister of grace, ordained by OxE
Wliose tlirone eternal knows no setting sun.
Tiiey kneel around liim, and his words impart
lieligion's cordial to the bnrsting heart ;
Certain of deatli, he points to realms above.
Where they will meet again in peace and love.
'Twas thus they perished ; in the act of prayer :
They turn'd to Heaven and found a refuge there.
No storm arose, no angry waters threw
Their fretted billows o"er the pallid crew ;
No lightning Hash the streaming canvas rent,
No howling wind the tapered mainmast bent ;
No moaning thunder peal was heard tj sweep
Its diapason o'er the restless deep :
But all was calm — around, above, below—
As twilight resting on untrodden snow.
(.)h ! boundless, wild, ungovernable sea,
Sublime in thine unbridled majesty !
Art thou enamoured of the sons of earth
To clutch them thus in thy capacious girtli ?
Ur art thou jealous of the human skill
That dares to cope with thy gigantic will ?
Roll on, deep sea ; thou world of silence, roll !
An overwhelming wonder to the soul ;
For thou art changeless ; since the world began \
Thou hast embraced it with thj' mystic span !-
And laugh 'd to scorn the petty power of man : J
Time Hies; thrones, kingdoms, kings— the good and just
Surrender to the mandate — "Dust to dust.'
l>ut, Ocean, Tliou — time works no change in ihce.
Thou art ALONK— type of KTKKNITY !
Peace to the dead ! tis not for man to know
Why Ood afflicts His creatures here below ;
Humility is taught us by the Son,
Then, mourners, orphans, let His WILL BE DONE.
GusTAVUS V. Brooke, June.
Were it not a foregone conclusion that Brooke lias little
literary reputation to lose, Ave should hardly feel disposed to give
to the world this quaint gallimaufry of crude thoughts and
infelicitous word painting, which, like many another act of its
concoctor, speaks more for the qualities of heart than head.
Viewed by the light of after-events these milk-and-water Byronisms
will doubtless strike the purist with a force utterly lacking in
many analogous productions of much finer fibre.
H
98 Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
Followiug the Dublin performance, " Mr. and Mrs. G. V.
Brooke," on June 29, gave some readings from Othello in the
Corporation Hall, Londonderry, at popular prices. Next day the
tragedian wrote from the City Hotel to his friend Morris, of
Ayr, telhng him the readings had been a failure, and asking
the loan of a little money for immediate travelling expenses ; a
request often repeated afterwards, and as often responded to by
the kind-hearted Scotchman. He laments there is so little to be
done in theatres during the summer months, and conveys the
intimation that he has made an arrangement with Daly, of the
Carlisle Theatre, to take him on tour through Penrith, ^Yigton,
and Maryport, to lecture on Shakespeare. He thinks it will
answer very well. On the same day Daly was writing to Brooke
advising the postponement of his visit to Carlisle until the
excitement of the impending races had subsided, and fixing the
9th of July for his appearance there. From the tone of Daly's
note we can readily see that Brooke was very dilatory and careless
in his business correspondence, and had left the bewildered Carlisle
impressario to imagine for himself what he purposed reading
during the tour. On July 3 we find the tragedian writing to
Morris from the Maiden City, enclosing Daly's letter, and
complaining that he cannot get a farthing from a certain
manager, who, he says, is " deeply in my debt, not only for our
services, but money lent." " Mrs. Brooke" has been taken suddenly
ill with some affection of the heart ; he cannot leave as expected,
and the money for travelling expenses will be exhausted before
the end of the Aveek. Will his good friend lend him another
five pounds, " which shall be repaid with a thousand thanks."
Needless to say, the money was forthcoming. Arriving at
Carlisle on Tuesday, July 10, ]>rooke and Marie Duret gave
two readings there ; " but," writes the tragedian to Morris, from
the Angel Iini on the 18th, " from the extreme heat they have
been comparative failures. We are going completely through
the ' Lake District,' and I make no doubt some of the smaller
towns will answer our purpose much better." When next he
communicates witli his trusty friend it is from the Saracen's
Ueadinfjs from Shakespeare. 99
Head, Paisley, on September 22. "I fear you will think ill of
me," he says, " for neglecting to write at the time you stated,
but when you have heard how I have been situated, I trust
sincerely your good nature will iind some little excuse. I could
not return the favour, and did not like writing. I have been a
very severe loser since last we met ; £53 by A ,* and a
much larger sum, a complete dead loss, in London, which I fully
relied upon getting in a week or so after I wrote to you ; added
to which my mother, sister, and brother have been dangerously
ill with the prevailing epidemic in Dublin, and I was compelled to
assist them at a pecuniary sacrifice. The readings were a complete
failure, and from the 1st of July to the end of August barely
cleared expenses. But, thank Heaven, things are looking more
favourable now, and my voice is much better We
have engaged here for twelve nights, and as trade is very good I
have every reason to hope we shall have good houses." Eight days
after, we find him writing to Morris from the same address, saying,
" The receipt of your very kind letter on Tuesday morning afforded
me the greatest gratification. I have only just time to save the
post and say that Mrs. Brooke was seriously indisposed yesterday
morning, and was in a very precarious state for some hours, but
I am happy to say the doctor considers her out of danger. She
still keeps her bed, and I have every reason to hope she will be
able to resume her professional duties on Monday. 1 play at
the Princess's Theatre, Glasgow, on Monday week."
Mention of Glasgow recalls an anecdote of one of Brooke's
later engagements there, which vividly illustrates his carelessness
in regard to money matters, and accounts in a measure for the
dissipation of the three fortunes which he is said to have made
and lost during his lifetime. A little time subsequent to the
present period Brooke, it appears, had his headquarters at
Cheetwood, Manchester, and while proceeding on his rounds took
with him an actor for some time associated with theatrical affairs
in that city, who played seconds to the tragedian and looked
* Manager of the Dundee, IVrth, Montrose, and Inverness Theatrical
Circuit; now deceased.
100 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
after business matters. Glasgow was visited in due course, and
immediately after the termination of the last performance there
Brooke informed his satellite that he intended returning forth-
with to Manchester. " Then we must borrow money to take
us back," said that worthy ; " expenses have been heavy, the
attendance but middling, and there's nothing in the exchequer."
" That's strange," replied Brooke, in a tone of good-humoured
perplexity; "the houses to me seemed very good. Why didn't
you tell me sooner — I would have borrowed the needful '? Go and
see what you can do." No sooner had the financier departed than
Brooke's dresser gave a significant wink to the tragedian, and
without stopping to explain his conduct made his way into an
adjoining lumber-room crammed with baggage. To Brooke's
great astonishment he returned at once with a hat fall of money,
which he had found rolled up in some stage costumes in a
trunk belonging to the actor-manager. Scarcely had he hidden
this under a chair when "honest lago" came back, pulling a
long face, and protesting that he had tried his best and couldn't
raise a farthing. " Oh, it's immaterial, Mr. ," blurted out
the honest dresser, with a sudden familiarity that startled the
actor. "A little bird has told me something"; and so saying
he pulled the hat from under the chair and emptied its
contents on tlie table. Taking in the whole situation at a
glance, l^rooke indulged in a hearty laugh over the discomfiture
of his lieutenant, and then, much as his own Othello dismissed
Cassio, quietly sent him about his business.
c n A r T E II \ I
1S49— 1851.
Gus. and liis Riotlier William— Siulilen Departure of Marie Duret —
Ihooke Returns to the ( )lyinpic'— His J.etters to .Morris— Appears in
The Noble Heart — Xrro&t and Deatli of the Olympic Manafjer—
Brooke's Dilemma— Troubles with his Costumier— Becomes Insolvent
— Plays at the Marylebone — Under Medical Treatment for his
Voice— Appears in Westland Marston's Marie de Meravie—Acts in
a Kound of Characters with INliss Helen Faucit — Revisits the
Provinces— Stirring Scene in the Belfast Theatre — A Tribute in
Verse from a French Admirer — His First Marriage — Preparing for
American Tour.
WHEN Brooke reappeared in Manchester for the first time
since his departure for London (at the Theatre Royal,
on Saturday, November 24, 1849), it was with feehngs akin
to pity that his old admirers remarked how great had been the
deterioration in the once magnificent voice, now, alas, broken
and husky. Owing to a squabble with H. J. Wallack, the
stage manager, Barry Sullivan had abruptly retired from the
theatre late in the previous ]\Iarch. He was succeeded as
leading man by R. E. Graham, who played seconds to Mr. and
" Mrs." Brooke throughout this engagement.
In a letter to Morris, written from the theatre on November 27,
Brooke says — " We opened on Saturday, and met with the most
tremendous reception from a crowded house I ever experienced ;
and I shall expect to clear from £120 to £140 by this engage-
ment. I go to Oldham from here, where I am secured £G0
for eight nights, and shall tlien remain quiet till five weeks after
Christmas, when I go to London. I have settled for the Olympic,
£100 a month, playing twelve nights in the month. ... My
engagement in London will last till the end of July."
102 Gustavus Vaiujhan Brooke.
A rather good story is told in connection with a sudden
visit which Brooke's younger brother paid the tragedian
precisely at this period. Invalided home by a bad attack of
yellow fever from the island of Tobago, where he had held the
position of private secretary to his Excellency the Lieutenant
Governor, William Basil l^rooke had conceived the idea of
taking brother Gus. by surprise. Without stopping to change
his travelling attire on arriving in Manchester he made all
speed to the theatre, and walked into Gus's dressing-room just
as the curtain was about to ring up. Somewhat startled by
the apparition, the tragedian, who was putting the finisliing
touches to his make-up, petulantly inquired, "why on earth he
came there to disgrace him in that rigout." There was little
time for much colloquy, however, as Gus. sallied forth shortly
after to appear on the stage, leaving behind him a new suit in
the latest and most luxurious style. Abashed by his reception,
brother William, who was much the same build, and in
appearance greatly resembled the tragedian, doflfed the obnoxious
garments, and arraying himself in Gus's choicer apparel strolled
round to the fi'ont of the house and watched the entire
performance from the boxes. Unfortunately, on his return to
the dressing-room he found his brother there before him, and
was greeted with a stentorian roar, "I might not well find my
new clothes. What the devil do you mean by this sort of
conduct?" "Ah, Gussy dear," insinuated William, " shure and
you wouldn't have your own brother sitting in the boxes and
disgracin' you with them ould things on ! "
It must not be thought from this little skirmish that the
brothers were anything but the very best of friends. Gus. had
always William's interest at heart, and until the whilom private
secretary received an oHicial appointment in connection with
the Dublin Courts, kept him by his side to look after business
matters.
After appearing at Oldliani, Brooke reiurjied to Manchester
for another week's engagement, commencing December 17.
This liad barely terminated when he received the first great
Exit Mar{(s Duret. 103
shock of liis life in tlio sudden departure of the woman upon
whom he had lavished all his affection. After feathering
her nest for years, Marie Duret, without a word of warning, ran
off to America, where, as an actress of tlie Madame Celeste
type, she passed through a number of vicissitudes, and finally
died of paralysis in a San Francisco hospital in April, 1881.
Much as this liaison was to be regretted, it appears to have origin-
ated and to have been maintained for a considerable period by
sincere affection on both sides. lUit it ended as all such lawless
unions generally end, no matter how plenteous the store of love
at the beginning. And goodness knows it was abundant enough
in the present instance. Our Manchester friend, Mr. Dinsmore,
says — "to see her and Brooke in love-scenes, especially at the
old Queen's, was a display that amazed the very gods. Her
show of passion and the way she clung to him and wound her
arms round his noble form was sometimes startling to witness."
Happily for himself Brooke accepted the situation with true
philosophy, as we can see by the following characteristic letter : —
10 York Place, Fulham Road,
Brompton, Londox,
January 7, 1850.
My Dear Mr. Morris,
1 have just ariivcd in town, and commence an eng-ipe-
nient at the Olympic Theatre on Monday, February 4th, wliich will
terminate the end of June, for which I am to receive £500. I am only
to play three nights a week. The Town seems all agog, and very much in
my favour. I have put myself under medical treatment till the appointed
time, and my doctor, who is an exceedingly clever man, has not the
slightest doubt that, with the rest, my voice will be restored to its wonted
vigour.
I have not been acting since Saturday fortnight, and tlie alteration
is wonderful. Pray write to me by return of post, and when I get a little
more settled I will let you have a long letter.
I am sorry to say that <//c ^«c^// in whom I most confided, after having
robbed me on all sides, eloped the other day (about eleven days ago),
and is now on her way to America. But the world says, and I begin
to think so too, that it is the best thing that could have happened for
me— in one respect. She actually had money in the funds, and during
my sojourn in Dublin, she came up here, and sold out. She has for
years been making a purse, with which she has decamped, carrying
with her a magnilicent wardrobe ; all tlie result of my laborious
exerti(m and of placing implicit conlidence in one who has been for
104 Gustavus Vawjhait Bruohe.
years robbing me niider the mat-k of atiection. But tliougli tlie shock
was sudden and severe, I have put a stout heart upon it, and it shall
serve as a stimulus to still fuither exertion, to gain a name, and become
an ornament to the profession I have embarked in.
Believe me, dear sir,
Yours most trulj%
Gustavus V. Brooke.
Poor Brooke ! Like the Moor lie so powerfully impersonated,
he was —
" of a free and open nature
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so ;
And -will as tenderly be led by the nose
As asses are."
Writing again to Morris, under date "29 Arundel Street,
Strand, January 81st, 1850," he briefly informs his friend of his
removal into town, and concludes by thanking Heaven his voice
" is now all right." Boasting a company as powerful and
extensive as that of any other London theatre, the New
Olympic had then been opened a little better than a month.
All the available talent had been engaged at salaries well nigh
ruinous to any management. Davenport, Conway, Belton,
Compton, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Wigan, and Mrs. Mowatt,
formed the mainstay of the company ; while among lesser hghts
enjoying a measure of popularity were Fanny Vining, Patty
Oliver, Mrs. Seymour, Mrs. Marston, and the ]\Iisses Marshall.
The new house had also a very accomplished stage director in
Mr. George Ellis, who officiated in a similar capacity at Her
Majesty's private theatre in Windsor Castle. At Mrs. Mowatt's
suggestion the starring system was abolished, and a wholesome
example set to the other metropolitan theatres in the printing
of the entire cast on the bills without invidious distinctions in
the matter of type.
When Brooke made his first appearance at the New Olympic
on Monday, February 4, in a well-mounted production of Othello,
he found himself adequately supported by E. L. Davenport as
lago, Fanny Vining as Emilia, and Mi s. ]\Iowatt as Desdemona.
The Press gave a hearty welcome to the truant, told him he had
another chance to fulfil the promise of his ilelnd, and hoped he
At the ycff Olijinplc. 105
would us-e it more wisely. Of a surety he made the most of his
opportunity on the opening night, when not even the striking
brilliancy of Davenport's lago could serve to dwarf his noble
personation of the Moor.
On Monday the 18tli, G. H. Lewes' drama, 'I'lu' Xoldc Heart,
which had previously been acted at Manchester, with the
author as the hero, was produced here for the first time in
London. Compressed into three acts since its trial trip in the
provinces, the new play was sumptuously mounted and well
acted throughout. Briefly put, the plot ran somewhat as
follows: — Don Gomez de la Vega, father of Leon, has
unknowingly fallen in love with Juanna, his son's betrothed,
and during the young soldier's absence in the wars, brings about
a compulsory marriage with the lady. "With the immediate
return of Leon come many scenes of powerful passion, which
culminate ni the father recognising as paramount the son's
claims to the afi'ections of the unwilling bride. His is the noble
heart that dictates the terms of the treaty of peace. The
Pope obligingly gives a dispensation annulling the joyless union,
and poor Don Gomez takes himself oft' to the nearest monastery.
Despite its gruesome theme, the new play was well received by
a large audience, and the author called for and loudly cheered
at the end. Mrs. Mowatt evinced a delicate perception of the
strong and weak points in the character of Juanna, and acted
finely throughout. E. L. Davenport, as the ardent lover and
devoted son, showed much genuine feeling ; while Brooke gave
an enthralling personation of the tempest-tossed father. His
Don Gomez, however, failed to evoke unanimous appreciation
from the critics, the Litcrarij Gazette (for which G. H. Lewes
frequently wrote) going so far as to say that " he displayed
great vigour in those passages where there was opportunity for
loudness and action, but had none of the look or the manner
of the proud man he is constantly said to be."
The run of the new play was abruptly terminated on
March 7 by the sudden closing of the theatre. Up to that
period it had never struck anyone as particularly surprising tliat
106 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
a gentleman subsisting on the slender income afforded by a
minor position in the Globe Insurance Office could live in regal
style, drive a magnificent equipage, and simultaneously manage
two such theatres as the Marylebone and the Olympic. Yet
this was what the eminently agreeable Mr. Walter Watts was
then doing. Thanks to his great adroitness in cooking
accounts and the remarkable gullibility of his associates, Watts
had succeeded in appropriating some seventy thousand pounds
of the company's money before daylight was let in upon his
actions. Owing to some technical quibble considerable difficulty
was experienced in bringing the crime home to him ; but eventually
the gentlemanly thief was sentenced to ten years' penal servitude,
and commuted a few hours after the trial by hanging himself in
his cell. At a time when all London was discussing the arrest,
we find Brooke writing about it as follows : —
29 Arundel Street, Strand,
Thursday, March I4, ISoO.
My Dear Mr. Moriiis,
You will no doubt l)e much surprised to hear of the sudden
closure of the Olympic, which took place on this day week. Tf you will look
at the Times of last Saturday you will Hnd by the ' City intelligence ' that
there has been a considerable defalcation in the (rlobe Insurance Ottice, of
which my late manager was a clerk and shareholder ; and by referring to
the Times of Tuesday morning you will find the account of Walter Watts'
examination at the Mansion House, he having been apprehended on a
suspicion of embezzlement. He was remanded till Saturday next.
Here I am in statu quo, not knowing wiiat to do till this alHxir is
.settled, and when it is some arrangement may be made for the opening of
the theatre. My engagement was £'lo per week up till the end of June. I
was involved by a certain party before I came here, and have since been
making that liability less weekly while in receipt of my salary, and now I
am completely thrown on my beam ends. 1 will send you by ne.\t post my
agreement niih the Olympic management, which you will please to return
to ine. I now have to solicit that you will lend me some pounds to assist
me till I see what is to be done, which I will repay with other favours when
fortune jilaces me in a more favourable position tlian at present.
In the present slate of things 1 have thought it advisable to give up my
a|)arlmentH, and have ensconced my.self in a single bedroom. I'ray let me
hear from you by return, and I will send you all the news that may transpire
relative to the unfortunate all'air.
Believe me,
My dear Mr. Morris,
Vours very faithfully,
tJUSTAVL.S \. lillOOKK.
Becomes Insolvent. 107
On his arrival in London to enter upon his (Olympic
engagement, 15rooke (as we learn from another letter to Morris)
had heen arrested at the suit of the ^lessi-s. Nathan, theatrical
costumiers, for the liire of dresses from February, iHiH, to
February, ]Hl!j. Having suffered jud;,'ment to go by default,
the sum with costs amounted to £128 odd ; this the lavish
Olympic manager advanced and procured the actor's release.
Ten days afterwards the same firm served IJrooke with a writ
for £109 — due, as they represented, for the hire of dresses up to
January, 1850. Acting upon the advice of friends, Brooke had
determined to defend this action ; but it never came to a trial,
as an arrangement was effected whereby the tragedian agreed
to pay £100 in five monthly instalments. The closing of the
Olympic shortly after threw poor Brooke completely on his
beam-ends. Writing to Morris from Arundel Street, on April
4, he says : —
"I have had many little debts here and elsewhere which
a certain party managed to contract for me ; and in order
to gain a little peace if possible, I can assure you that I
have paid for the last two weeks I was at the Olympic £30
out of every £.31 (having been allowed £G for playing an
extra night each week during the run of a play called The
Sohle Henri). So that I left myself with a sovereign pocket
money to carry me through. I have now been five weeks
without salary, and could not take any engagement with all
these things hanging over me. So I at length resolved to take
a despei'ate remedy and become an Insolvent. My petition was
filed on Tuesday, and 1 got my protection yesterday. This
morning two sherifts' officers came into my bedroom at eight
o'clock to arrest me at the suit of the Messrs. Nathan, but
fortunately I had my protection.
" Nathan's first instalment of £20 wa-s due on the first of
April. He is the only creditor I have to oppose me, and his
charge has been so out of all reason, and the measures he has
adopted against me have been so harsh, that every one says, to
use a technical term in the law, 'it won't hold water.' My
108 Gusiavus Vawjhan Brooke.
lieariiig is fixed for Saturday the 27tli inst., and as I have
every reason to believe it will end satisfactorily I feel compara-
tively comfortable. This is the present position in which I am
placed, and I assure you it will serve as a stimulus (when t
am a free man) to make me strain every nerve to accumulate
money and render myself an independent man, as I do not
require a telescope to see through my past folly.
" Now for my future proceedings. I play at the
Marylebone on Monday next for three weeks, and hope to
realise something like £60 or £70 out of it ; and I shall then
be prepared with engagements for a tour through the provinces,
which generally turns out more profitable, not being compelled
to keep up the same appearance as in London.
" I have made arrangements for a wardrobe (not to hire,
but my own) ; to be paid for at so much per month, which
cannot hurt me, and I have every pi'ospect of creating a
sensation m the theatrical world and making a few hundreds
in a short period."
Messrs. E. Stirling and J. Kinloch figured on the bills as
directors of the Marylebone when Brooke opened there on Monday,
April 8, as Othello to the lago of James Jolmstone. During this
engagement the tragedian appeared in a round of old characters,
and had for leading support Mrs. Seymour of the Ilaymarket,
who played Portia to his Shylock on April 18, Edward Stirling
being the Gratiano. Thanks to able management and an ever-
varying bill, the pretty little theatre was crowded nightly. "On
Brooke's return to London after a long absence," writes Westland
Marstoii, " lie made an approach in Othello to his first excellence.
This might be due to the excitement of a reappearance. But his
acting, like his person, was become coarse and his voice somewhat
husky. I saw him at various times in IJamlct, in Sir Giles
Over-reach, and several other characters. In :ill these were
particular scenes in whicli lie made an eO'ect ; but it was a great
deal due to physical energy. lie sliow( tl liitle subtlety of
apprehension or cinotion, nothing tlial recalled the first iiiglit of
his Othello."
J^iidcr Medical 'D'catnioit. 109
Happy in the issue of his suit in bankruptcy, wc find him
writing post-haste as follows ; —
102 Lissox Grove, North,
Paddington, April 29, 1850.
.\lv Dear Mr. Morris,
I have only time to say that T tliink you will be pleased at
the handsome termination of my insolvency case, the particulars of winch
you will lind in the Sanduy Times, winch accompanies this letter. There
is also a description in The Times oi this mornin;,', and, in fact, all the papers.
The Commissioner complimented me highly ujton the position which, as a
young man, I held in my profession, and said he ha<l not a doul)t of my
dehtors being paid, provided I had good health. Excuse this short and
hurried letter, and let me hear from you as soon as possible.
Believe me,
Mj' dear Mr. Morris,
Yours faithfully,
GusTAVus V. Brooke.
But the provincial tour looked forward to, after the Mary-
lebone engagement, with so much joyful anticipation, failed to
come off. Brooke's voice again held out signals of distress,
and rendered him disinclined for a time to leave the metropolis.
Hence from " 38 Prince's Street, Stamford Street," on July 0,
we find him writing to Morris : —
'O
My Dear Sir,
I was delighted to receive your kind letter tlds morning, and
regret that I cannot have the pleasure of seeing you at Liverpool. I am
happy to say that I have been under the first man in London for
atlections of the throat, ike. — Doctor Hastings, of Albemarle Street— and
that he does not entertain the slightest doubt of the restoration of my
voice. However, I am restricted to water only, and not allowed to play
more than once or twice in the week.
Theatricals in London are at a very low ebb, and my position will
not allow me to play on small terms. I have had £1,000 oHered me to
go out to New York and Philadelphia for twelve weeks. Ciiarles Kean
and Keeley are anxious for me to play a short time at the Princess's,
and Webster is counting on my services for the Haymarket ne.xt season.
So that until my voice is perfectly restored I cannot determine what I
shall do
Believe me,
Yours most sincerely,
GusTAvus V. Brooke.
To America, indeed, he was very soon to go ; but Fate had
willed it that he should never act ut the Princess's or the
110 Gustacus Vaiujhan Brooke.
Haymarket, When the wmter season opened he made his
reappearance at the Olympic, under Farren, on Monday,
November 4th, as Phihp of France in Westland Marston's new
tragedy of Marie de Meranie. "Not havmg been present at the
reading," writes Dr. Marston, in " Our Recent Actors," " he asked
me to go over his part with him. I was amazed to find a man
who was, at all events, an accomplished executant so slow in
forming his conception. Often, when the meaning of the text
seemed to me too obvious for doubt, he would inquire anxiously
and repeatedly as to the manner in which it should be delivered.
He was at that time an established favourite, and it was curious
to bear him asking questions that almost any tyro in his art
could have solved. He had not a tinge of conceit ; he threw
himself frankly and unhesitatingly upon his author's guidance,
which he implicitly followed, but showed at rehearsal a lassitude
in going through his part which scarcely promised brilliant
results. This possibly arose from the state of his throat. The
powers of his voice were so much impaired that when he put a
strain on them the effort seemed as distressing to the listener
as to himself. However, on the night of production, by skilful
management, an imposing bearing, and a dashing outline of the
character, he accomplished far more than had been expected.
His performance seemed to me to be wanting in subtle touches
and an innerness (if the phrase may be used) of emotion. Dut
this opinion may have been somewhat unfair. The acting of
Miss Helen Faucit in Marie, who had fathomed every motive of
a character which she expounded, not only with supreme truth
and passion in the crises, but with a power to touch with the
most delicate precision the right tones of feeling, tended to make
an author unduly exacting as to the performer associated with
her."
It is noteworthy that the impression conveyed to Westland
Marston accords in tlie main with the opinion expressed by the
various reviewers of his tragedy. Overshadowed for the most
part by the divine radiance of Helen Faucit, and handicapped
as lie was by serious vocal doficiciicics, Urooke still managed
His I 'It Hip uj / 'ra lice. Ill
to give a very effective personation, and now and again rose to
the extreme height of noble passion. Perhaps the severest
stricture passed on his acting of this, his third original, character
was that of 'I'lic Litcitini (lir.iUc, whicli, after conceding him the
possession of a vast amount of energy, condemned his voice as
"affected by so obstinate a hoarseness that all modulation is
thereby destroyed. Of the harmony of the poet's numbers or of
the various shades of passion nothing remains — all is wrecked
and utterly lost ; the violence or the tenderness— the intenseness
of rage or the pathos of sorrow are all destroyed by the physical
effort necessitated to enunciate the mere words of the author.
It is thoroughly painful and seriously damages the effect which
the new tragedy would otherwise produce."
So much for the opinion of author and critics. The
public, strange to say, were more widely tolerant ; one evidence
of which was the number of engravings of Brooke as Philip
Augustus, made to satisfy popular demand. Even so late as the
middle of the following year a fine daguerreotype of the tragedian
in this character was seut by Mayall to the Great Exhibition.
With indications such as these to judge from, we cannot but
consider the personation at least a success of esteem.
Passing an evening with Brooke at his own home about
this period, Westland Marston found tlie tragedian a very
agreeable companion ; quiet, unaffected, and courteous ; and
surprisingly devoid of egotism and stage airs. "He talked
httle of himself," we are told, "chiefly of things theatrical in
Dublin, of those who had been special favourites there, and of
the wild enthusiasm of Irish audiences, compared with which
the approval of an English public, he said, seemed generally
tame and dispiriting." Of Brooke's goodness of heart and
simple convivial temper others have spoken in equally
glowing terms. Says the "Old-Fashioned Playgoer" — "I had
the pleasure of (r. V. Brooke's personal acquaintance on those
terms which rendered it most enjoyable. He kept out of the way
when his society was not thoroughly acceptable to one wlio was
not outrageously convivial in his tastes. At other times he was
112 Gustavus Vaiv/han Brooke.
always glad to see me, and I have pissed many happy hours
in his company. My verdict upon him is that he had a heart
of gold. I never knew a man who made one love him so, or
whose simpHcity and kindness better justified the instinct he
created."
During November and December Brooke and Helen Faucit
drew crowded houses nightly to the Theatre in Wych Street, in a
round of legitimate characters, giving also occasional performances
of the new tragedy. The support was brilliant throughout, as
the Olympic company comprised such capable artists as Mr.
Henry Farren, Mr. \\. Farren, jun., Mr. G. Cooke, Mr. Henry
Compton, Mrs. Stirling, Mrs. Griffiths, and Mr. and Mrs. Leigh
Murray. On November 30 we find Brooke writing to Morris : —
"I am, thank God, getting on as well as I can possibly expect,
and mean now to maintain my position. My voice has at length
been restored to me, and I do not see any one thing to prevent
my having a very successful career. I am to play Claude Melnotte
in town for the first time on Monday next, and we expect
that T/ic L<tibi (if Lijons will have a run. Farren has made a
re-engagement with us for three weeks, so that I shall remain in
town till the end of January."
A glance around at the other London theatres will show that
Brooke in those days had no pigmies to contend against in striving
to maintain his position in the metropolis. \n December Macready
was acting at the Haymarket in Hiilmnl If. and hiii;/ Jo/ui :
Charles Kean at the Princess's in Henri/ / 1 . .- James Anderson at
Drury Lane; Phelps and Miss Glyn at Sadler's Wells in Tlie
Winter's Tale; and Creswick and Tom Mead at the Surrey in
Coriulanwi. To shine amid such a constellation was indeed a
triumph for one who had certainly seen his best day.
The Ladi/ nf Li/dux, with Helen Faucit as Pauline, was
brouglit out at the Olympic on Tuesday, December 8. Brooke
as Claude was in capital voice, and played with great propriety.
But his satufnine temperament ill-fitted him for the wild boyish
enthusiasm of the ambitious gardener. He .showed to nuicli
greater advantage as Master Walter, in whicli, according to
Macreadys Opinion. 113
current critical opinion, he approached nearest to his original
excellence as Othello. Very striking, too, were his bursts of
passion as Shylock on Boxing Night, when his voice had
happily gained much of its old firmness and sonority. '* The
' 1 thank God,' " says Tallis's Dramatic Mar/azine, " and the
sudden falling upon his knees — the wild gratitude of the
moment which makes his vindictive nature the more strongly
developed — was actually wonderful. The wordless eloquence of
his demeanour when buffeted and beaten, the frightful reverse
of things to him, are strongly contrasted with the exulting
malevolence with which he presses for his bond, and indicated
a conception as vivid as it was elaborate and artistical.''
On January 2, 1851, he appeared as Sir Giles Over-reach,
playing with such terrific force in the final scene as to conjure
up visions to at least one imaginative spectator of " some
incarnate demon, blasted and paralysed at the moment of
triumph by the avenging lightning of Providence." Seven days
later he gave a powerful, if somewhat uneven, rendering of Sir
Edward Mortimer in The Iron Chest. This, his first performance
of the part in London, attracted little attention, critical or
otherwise, the truth of the matter being that playgoers were
getting tired of these well-worn characters, and pined for a
succession of strong new pieces.
Brooke's engagement at the Olympic was marked by the
occurrence of a memorable and very pleasing incident. From
what the tragedian subsequently told ]\Iorris and some of his
Irish fi'iends, it appears that Macready, on one occasion before
its conclusion, visited the theatre, and after the performance
waited upon Brooke in his dressing-room. The eminent actor
was then giving a series of final performances at the Haymarket,
and was in fact within a few weeks of his retirement from the
stage. Although warped somewhat in judgment by a splenetic
jealousy that made him, for instance, under-rate the powers of
Charles Kean, no one was better able to appraise the qualities
of the leading actors of the time. Hence we learn with satisfaction
that Macready took advantage of his visit to inform Brooke he
1
114 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
was now the only English actor capable of upholding the grand
tragic line, and that, with proper care, he need fear no competitor.
Hungering greedily for the wild enthusiasm of Irish audiences,
Brooke commenced a week's engagement at Belfast on Monday,
January 13, when the critics adjudged his Othello "nearly
unrivalled," but gave it as their opinion that he was inferior in
Hamlet to Macready, Charles Kean, and Vandenhoff, and had
wholly misconceived the Shakespearian idea. Weighty accusations
of blustering were made, of giving one or two false readings, and
of misplacing the emphasis, or, wor^e still, of not using it at all.
To this formidable bill of charges the Neivs-Letter added "a
laborious effort to supply the defects of a peculiarly rugged
voice by ventriloquial contrasts of sound." The tragedian,
however, was far too popular in Belfast, and unfortunately for
himself (in other respects) had too many friends there for the
receipts to be affected by critical condemnation.
As illustrative of his great popularity with the masses, the
late Mr. Brock, a well-known North of Ireland journalist, was
wont to relate a stirring incident which happened at the Old
Belfast Theatre about this period, and of which he was an eye-
Avitness.* It was Brooke's benefit night ; the play Othello ; and
the house crammed from pit to dome. Ensconced in the corner
seats of the lower boxes were a party of officers from the
garrison who had sufficient ill-breeding to maintain a sort of
after-dinner giggle throughout the opening scenes, to the great
annoyance of the audience, The tittering went on without
cessation until the dismissing of Cassio, when Brooke, no longer
able to restrain himself, rushed to the front of the stage hard by
where the offenders were seated, and, with a superb flourish of
his sword, exclaimed — "Now, my fine fellows, if you don't stop
your blackguardism I'll put this through one of you." The
effect upon the audience, now justly incensed, was something
marvellous. The house rose as one man, and by its
*A8 similar Htories liavc been related of Brooke in connection with
tlic fork an<l (Ila.«go\v theatres, we think it better to give onr authority
for placing the Hcene in IJelfast.
Tourinrj the Provinces. 115
threatening attitude compelled the shallow-pated ninnies to beat
a hasty retreat. Cheer after clieer marked their departure, and
then the play was proceeded with without further comment. It
is only fair to Brooke to say that while his strength was
commensurate with his courage he seldom gave way to the
impulse of the moment. Once or twice his calm unruffled temper
was mistaken for cowardice ; but few indeed were the persons
who found that he could be insulted with impunity. Mr.
Dinsmore relates that once a mistake of this sort was made
behind the scenes at Manchester, when a gross indignity, calling
for immediate retaliation, was somehow thrust upon him. There
was one blow and no more ; like Mercutio's wound, it served.
Brooke was now at the height of his popularity in the
provinces, where, whatever may have been the consensus of critical
opinion, he was always hailed with enthusiasm by the public,
who magnified his merits and had extreme toleration for his
weaknesses. After playing an engagement at the Theatre Eoyal,
Dublin, in conjunction with Mrs. Mowatt (where their attractions
Avere supplemented by the feats of the sisters Ellsler, who
ascended to the gallery amid a blaze of red fire on a tight-rope),
Brooke paid successful visits to Glasgow and Edinburgh. During
his sojourn at the Theatre Royal in the Scottish capital, he was
efficiently supported by Powrie, Wyndham, and Miss Frankland,
and received unstinted praise at the hands of the critics. His
Richard III., they said, had no parallel in the performance of
any living actor ; and in the heavy part of Sir Giles Over-reach
he was deemed equally unapproachable. For his benefit there
he displayed considerable versatility in playing Rob Roy and
Felix O'Callaghan — than which two more strongly contrasted
characters could hardly be found. On Monday, March 31, he
made what was announced as his first appearance in Birmingham,
and had for leading support James Bennett, the well-known
tragedian. Here, too, his masterly display of passion and power
electrified the town and created such a sensation that he deemed
it expedient to return there at the latter end of May, when he
played another short engagement to crowded houses.
116 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
Possibly there are few actors who (living or dead) have
had more tributes of verse addressed to them than the hero of
these pages. Among a number of old family treasures placed
at our disposal by Brooke's only surviving sister we find some
anonymous and specially printed lines, bearing date " Aout
1851," and entitled " Vers Adresses a G. Y. Brooke, Esq., le
celebre tragedien Anglais, apres I'avoir va jouer plusieurs des
grands caracteres da celebre Shakespeare." As this highly
eulogistic offering was evidently the work of some enthusiastic
Frenchman over on a visit to the Great Exhibition, the curious
origin of the lines justifies their quotation.- —
" D'ou te vient ce genie admirable poiite ?
D'oii viennent ces accents de ta sonore voix ?
Toi qui de Shakespeare est le digne interprc-te.
Toi qui nous montre encore ses Heros et ses Rois ?
Le Parnasse joyeux acclanie a tes succcs
Et en te couronnant sur I'Autel des neuf soeurs,
Kepond que c'est de lui qui viennent tis progrfes
Et qu'il te met au rang de ses nobles acteurs.
" Oui, Brooke, est imniortel, son nom et sa mcmoire,
Serout en lettres d'or graves au Pantheon ;
L'Angleterre en est fiere et d(5jk son histoire
Lui reserve une page a cote de Byron,
Sa verve et son talent il prete a Melpomene,
Et dans autre instant Thalie a ses ardeurs ;
Alors vous le voyez egayer sur la sci;ne
Un th(5atre rempli d'etonnes spectateurs.
" Ah ! tu merites bien les lauriers, les couronnes,
Dont on jonche tes pas ; les ai)plaudissenients
Mille fois r<Spetds, des villes et des trOne*,
Seront un jour graves sur nos grand monuments.
Ya, ne t'arrete pas, les Muses et leur lyre
Sont toujours pres de toi pour te dieter des vers ;
Et Apollon leur frere est Ih, qui vous inspire
A chanter les beaux traits dieux dieux de I'univers."
While touching the hearts of troops of playgoers during his
recent visits to Birmingham, Brooke appears to have received a
powerful impression upon his own. lie was now to play a new
and very important role in the drama of life. In short, on referring
to the registers of Saint Philip's Church, liirmingham, we find
that " Gustavus Vaughan Brooke, of Lambeth," was married there
His First Marriage.
117
by special license, on October 17, 1851, to Mciriainio Elizabeth
Woolcott Bray, spinster, aged 28, daughter of James Bray, of
New Street, gentleman.
Five days after the wedding Brooke writes to Morris, from the
Theatre Royal, Leicester, enclosing cards of the happy event,
and informinpf him of his speedy departure for Glasgow, where he
has arranged to star for a fortnight. He was then busily
preparing for his transatlantic trip, and so tells his friend, "I
sail for America on the 22nd November, having got what I call
a small fortune for an engagement."
CHAPTEK VII.
America. 1851—1853.
Some Misleading Statements Combated — Brooke Makes his First
Appearance in America at the Broadway Theatre, New York —
Edwin Forrest's Friendly Attitude — Visits Philadelphia, Boston,
Washington, and Baltimore —Meets with (ireat Success, and llashly
Determines to Embark Single-handed upon Theatrical Management
in New York— Becomes Lessee of the Astor Place Opera House, and
Produces The Corsican Brothers— The Venture Proves Disastrous —
Associates himself once more with Mr. J. Hall Wilton, and enters
upon his Second Tour — The Tide Turns — Serious Hlness at St.
Louis— Presented at Boston with a Magnificent Testimonial — Last
Appearance in America — Edmund Kean's Dagger.
AFTER relating the Sir Giles Over-reach incident, which we
have already traversed in dealing with Brooke's first Olympic
engagement, Mr. Coleman goes on to say : —
" The manager of Drury Lane still believed in him, sought
him out, offered splendid terms; he pulled himself together,
and, fortified by the accursed whisky bottle, attempted to retrieve
his fallen fortunes. There was an enormous house ; great things
were anticipated ; but, alas ! of the brilliant and accomplished
tragedian there remained only what George Lewes described to
be ' a hoarse and furious man, tearing a passion to tatters with
the melody of a raven.' .... This engagement culminated
in a mi.serable jittsm, in consequence of which he quitted the
theatre in disgrace, and sought refuge in an obscure tavern in
the immediate vicinity.
"Contemporaneous with these events, Mr. Phineas T.
Barnum had despatched one Mr. Wilton Hall to Europe, to
secui-e Jenny Lind for a tour in America. Having accomplished
Mr. Coleman s Narrative. 119
this mission to the satisfaction of his chief, Mr. Hall was once
more despatchecl to England to hunt up novelties to exploit in
the States.
" Upon arriving in town this gentleman heard, of course (for
the subject was rife on all men's tongues), of Brooke's sudden
rise and equally sudden fall ; and it occurred to the astute
American that Gustavus was still a young man, that amendment
was not impossible, and that what he had done before he might
do again. Presenting himself at the H , late in the day,
he found the wretched object of his quest still in bed, and
roaring out for a 'pot of four-half!' Upon explaining his
business he met with but : cant welcome, for the unfortunate
tragedian's mind was unhinged by his reverses, and he had
arrived at the conclusion that his career was over. Hall,
however, would not take 'no' for an 'answer.' Instead of a
'pot of four-half,' he called for a bottle of Cliquot ; under its
benignant influence he soothed the fallen star, and in an hour's
time it was arranged for him to leave the place on the morrow.
Next day at twelve o'clock Hall came with a brougham, paid
the tavern bill, and took Brooke to splendid lodgings in Belgravia.
The day after, he was taken to a West-end tailor and ' figged
out ' in the height of the mode ; and a few days later, to the
astonishment of everybody, Guslavus was to be seen every
afternoon lolling about in his chariot among the fashionable mob
in the Ladies' Mile.
" After a month's recuperation, the tragedian and his mentor
sailed for New York, where a series of engagements in all the
principal theatres was speedily arranged. The tour commenced
far away down South ; the climate agreed with Brooke, who
recovered his voice — that is, as much as he ever did recover it ;
he ' struck ile ' immediately, and once more leaped into fame
and fortune — the first tour alone yielding a profit of £20,000."
Once more we have to complain that Mr. Coleman has
acted most ungenerously towards his old friend in giving to
the world, without verification, the idle gossip of irresponsible
chatterers. So absurd, indeed, are some of the statements just
120 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
quoted, that we should have been incHiied to pass them by
unnoticed were it not that they have been widely and very
extensively reproduced in both hemispheres. While allowing
that the circumstances of the American engagement were very
much as related by Mr. Coleman, it must first be pointed out
that the name of the agent referred to was Mr. J. Hall "Wilton
(not Wilton Hall), who died at Sydney, N.S.W., on December
19, 1862. In the next place, Brooke was never " expelled
from Drury Lane with ignominy," as Mr. Coleman states farther
on, and, so far as we can learn after prosecuting vigorous
inquiries, had never acted at that theatre previous to his
American tour. So much for the subject that was rife on all
men's tongues. Finally, his first appearance in America did
not take place " far away down South," but at the Broadway
Theatre, New York, on Monday, December 15, 1851, the play
being Othello. Landing unheralded at a time when the orations
of Kossuth and the Forrest divorce suit were dividing public
attention, Brooke was received at once with genuine enthusiasm.
Taken very much throughout the length and breadth of the
States at his early British appraisement, the Americans, who
knew little of the misfortunes that had recently impaired his
powers, were sometimes puzzled to account for his great
European reputation.
It has frequently been stated (we know not with what
degi'ee of truth) that Edwin Forrest had several times of late
years urged upon Brooke the advisabihty of visiting America,
holding out dazzling hopes of his crushing the reputation of
their common enemy, Macready. Be that as it may, it is
certainly significant that, in this, the year of Macready's
retirement from the stage — an event which must have brought
back painful reminiscences to New York playgoers — almost the
first person to welcome Brooke on his arrival in America was
bis old friend Edwin Forrest. Although much perturbed in
mind by his then impending divorce suit, Forrest found time to
promote the success of the English tragedian, took his seat
nightly in a prominent part of the Broadway Theatre, and was
New York. 121
graciously permitted by the audience to lead the applause.
Under such auspices it is not to be wondered at that everything
went off well. "With Brooke taking three or four "curtains"
during every performance, success at once became assured.
After fulfilling a three weeks' engagement in New York (on one
night of which — December 23 — he played Claude Melnotte for
the benefit of "The Young IMen's Hebrew Association"), he
left for Philadelphia, where he made his first appearance at
the Walnut Street Theatre, on January 5, 1852, as Sir Giles
Over-reach. Visits to Boston, Washington, and Baltimore
followed. Uniformly prosperous as were all five engagements
from a financial standpoint, none save the Boston critics went
into strophes of enthusiasm over his superb physical endowments,
or expatiated at length on the Rembrandt-like skill with which
he relieved the tones of liis rich and sonorous voice by facile
transitions from high to low notes.
With the termination of his first tour Brooke found himself
once more m funds, and, like the child he was, sought some way
to rid himself of his superfluous cash. Possessing no appreciable
business capacity to speak of, he was injudicious enough to sever
his connection with Hall Wilton precisely at a time when the
services of that gentleman would have proved of most value. He
had now determined to embark upon the perilous waters of
theatrical management, and on May 2 installed himself as lessee
of the Astor Place Opera House, New York, with a company
made up principally of new faces and comprising the names of
Messrs. Lynne, G. C. Jordan, Harris, Arnold, and Mesdames
Wyette, Vickery, and Charlotte Hale. No novelty was afforded
at the outset, the actor-manager merely contenting himself by
appearing during the first fortnight in a round of his old
characters. Elaborate preparations were, however, being made
for the production of a new piece. Late in the February of this
year Charles Kean had brought out at the Princess's Theatre,
London, with considerable success, a cleverly adapted version,
by Dion Boucicault, of I.cs Freres Corses. Persuaded that
the Dei Franclii were eminently grateful characters, Brooke
122 Gudavus Vaiajhan Brooke.
(who had no desh-e to play second tiddle to his intellectual
but voiceless contemporary) had a literal translation made of
the original piece, as dramatised by MM. Grange and Montepin
from Dumas' famous story, and produced at the Theatre
Historique on August 10, 1850. The only result achieved by
this lumbering version in five or six acts was to prove
the immense superiority of Boucicault's condensation. In
announcmg The Corsican Brothers for production on Wednesday,
May 19, with himself as. the twins, Brooke had certainly
every right to make the most of the fact that his was (to all
intents and purposes) the original play. But the boast did not
end there. Mr. Gustavus V. Brooke, according to the playbills, was
also the original representative of the Dei Franchi. This was too
much for Hamblin, the Bowery manager, who some couple of
months previously had procured a copy of Boucicault's drama
and performed it, with elaborate scenery, to a succession of
good houses for fully five weeks. Out came Brooke's managerial
rival with a card in which, after stating that he had always
beeji under the impression that the Twin Brothers had
originally been played in England by Charles Kean and in
America by Edward Eddy, he shov/ed his complete ignorance
of the fact that Boucicault's version was by no means literal
by a very incautious sally. " But for the originality," he says
in conclusion, "that's the grand question. He expects to find
some 'Grand Theban' writing a few introductory lines and a few
more additional clauses, omitting some of the principal features,
and add to and publish the whole as the Original Declaration
of Independence, never before published in France, England,
or the United States. The subscriber apologises for inflicting
this tirade upon his readers, which he certainly would not have
done, but that his silence might have been deemed an
acknowledgment that he had been imposing on that public that
have believed in him and so nobly supported him for five-and-
twenty years." Mr. Hamblin should have known that TJir
t'orskan Brothers of Dion Boucicault was at once something
more and something less tlian the original play. While
Managerial Jlis/oiiunes. 1 23
eliminating many excrescences from the plot, the astute English
playwright had also added the Ghost Melody and the myste-
rious sliding trapwork, Tliese extraneous features contributed
materially to the success of the melo-drama at the Princess's,
but they were utterly repugnant to the artistic sense of Fechter,
the French original of the Twin Brothers ; so much so that
he eliminated them from the piece when revived under his
management at the same theatre in 1862.
Things had been going badly enough with poor Brooke
without Hambliu's interference. Considering the bloody memories
attached to it, the unlucky Opera House might well have been
rechristened "The Dis-Astorous " Place, as a wag suggested.
Financial mismanagement had brought Brooke's resources to a
very low ebb. Deeply involved in debt, and with his spirits at
zero, he vacated the theatre on June 5, just as a vein of hot
weather was beginning to make playgoing intolerable. Still
struggling on manfully, however, he, on Tuesday the 8th,
transferred The Corsican Bruthors and his entire company to the
boards of Niblo's Garden, but was only able to maintain his
position there about half-a-dozen nights. Another shift was
made to Brougham's Lyceum Theatre, where Brooke appeared
on the 11th as Othello, remaining there with his company for
a week, and giving representations of several stock legitimate
pieces. But these further exertions merely served to sink him
more deeply in the mire. His, however, was not the nature to
sit down under misfortune. With a much-needed rest of a couple
of months he soon recovered heart, and by the end of August
had wiselv secured the services of Hall Wilton to make all
arrangements, and assume the entire control of financial matters
during his ensuing tour through the West. Nothing could have
answ'ered better. Few men were more conscientious or indefatigable
than Barnum's whilom agent. W^ilton entered with enthusiasm
upon the management of Brooke's affairs, and during a period of
four or five years proved himself indispensable to that volatile spirit.
Another turn of fortune's w'heel placed the tragedian once
more on the pinnacle of prosperity. Philadelphia, Albany, Buffalo,
124 Gustavus Voiighan Brooke.
and Cincinnati wexe visited to a monotonous succession of
crowded houses. Indeed his triumphal progress through the
States was only marred by a serious illness contracted shortly
after his arrival in St. Louis. x\ttending the funeral of Mr.
James Bates, son of the manager of the Cincinnati, Louisville,
and St. Louis Theatres, he stood bareheaded at the grave
during the last solemn rites, and received a severe chill, owing
to a sudden thaw that hacl set in after a heavy fall of
snow. Within a few hours the disorder resolved itself into a
malignant attack of inflammatory rheumatism, and increased in
virulence day after day despite the skill of the best physicians
attainable. After numerous consultations the Faculty confessed
their inability to cope with the ravages of the disease, and
told the little circle of anxious friends the worst might be
expected. By an irony of circumstance a sudden change
for the better took place with this announcement. A good
constitution and the admirable nursing of his wife rendered
Brooke's recovery as rapid as his illness had been sudden. Little
time elapsed ere he was enabled to resume his professional duties.
The sympathies of St. Louis had gone out to him while he lay
hovering between life and death. They were now palpably
expounded in the People's Theatre, where his performances
were so well attended that his original engagement of a week
blossomed into a stay of fifty-two consecutive nights. Desirous
of presenting some slight souvenir of his visit to his many
friends in St. Louis, Brooke, just before leaving, had a number of
daguerreotypes taken of himself in stage and ordinary costume,
by Fitzgibbon, of that city. From these, several fine engravings
on steel were subsequently made, copies of which are still to be
found, among other memorials of the tragedian, in the theatrical
taverns and oyster-rooms of our provincial towns.
Seen off the stage at this period, there was little about
Brooke's appearance or bearing (save perhaps the abundant
curly locks which flowed in careless profusion over his ears) to
denote the "deep tragedian." Beyond the merest apology for
side whiskers the face had no suspicion of hair, and the
Presentation at Boston. 125
soft semi-liumoi'ous expression of the features was somewhat
accentuated by the quivernig eagerness which lurked in the
corners of the mouth ; a marked indication of volubihty and
fun thoroughly characteristic of the Irish lace. To the
superficial observer, however, the G. V. Brooke of a decade
later was a very different personage. The cultivation of a thick
moustache cut short at the ends did much to alter the
expression of the features, which in themselves had become
more serious and self-possessed. Hence his whole bearing while
in Australia Avas that of a soldier, rather than the poor player
fretting and strutting his hour upon the boards.
On returning to Boston, Brooke was made the recipient of
a welcome from the patrons of the National Theatre, equally
affectionate with that tendered him in St. Louis, and on the
occasion of his farewell benefit there on May 27, 1853, was
presented with a magnificent service of silver plate — in seven
pieces, all suitably inscribed — as a mark of esteem from his
American admirers. After the performance of Hamlet, Mr.
Fleming, in making the presentation on behalf of the donors,
read the folio wmg quaintly-phrased address: — *
TO GUSTAVrS VAUGHAN BROOKE, ESQ.
Dear Sir,
With feelings imbued by respect and honour, warranted by the
histrionic genius and superior power of delineation portraye 1 by you in
your profession as a representation of Shakespeare and the Drama, the
Undersigned, feeling that we express the sentiment of many thousands
of your warm admirers, cannot allow you to depart from our shores
without conveying to you the high appreciation entertaineil for yon, not
only as a great actor, but to testify to your invariable urbanity and
gentlemanly demeanour, by which you have "won golden opinions from
all sorts of people." It seldom falls to our lot to witness such truthful
illustrations of the Bard of Avon as are so universally and brilliantly
given in your truly great rendering of his grand ideas ; and we feel it
our duty to enable you to carry with you to your country some tangible
mark of the high favour your superior talent is held in this. We
therefore solicit your acceptance of the accompanying Silver Service as
a slight token thereof, and to add our heart-felt wishes for your
• An excellent engraving of this presentation (from a daguerreotype
by Mayall) is to be found in Ilalliwells edition of Shakespeare, as
published by John TuUis & Co., of London and New Vork, in 1S54.
126 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
continued health, happiness, prosperity, and safety, hoping soon to
welcome you back again to this our native land ; but, should we never
see you again, we say, '' extinct us amabitur idem.''
We have the honour to subscribe ourselves very respectfully and
truly yours,
K. I. BURBANK, Boston, ^ Committee
E. P. Stevens, I ^y Prcentation.
W. Thompson, Providence, J
As soon as the cheering and uproarious applause of the
audience had subsided, Brooke made reply as follows, in a voice
quivering with emotion : —
"Mr. Fleming,— I feel inadequate to express at this moment
what my heart dictates. This is indeed a mark of esteem which,
although bearing the immaculate glitter of precious metal, cannot
render me more deeply sensible of the honours and kindness I
have had conferred upon me by my friends in Boston and
Providence. I receive your testimonial in the spirit of a heart
overflowing with gratitude, so much so as to be unable to
convey to you the sincerity of its acknowledgment. I hope that
this token of your appreciation shall be handed down an heirloom
to posterity, and be valued with pride by those I leave behind
me. Now, with your permission, I will take this opportunity
of requesting the ladies and gentlemen before us to accept my
unalloyed thanks for the patronage I have hitherto been honoured
with, as well as their presence on this occasion. I shall leave
this country in a few days, and I shall do so with regret — with
deep regret. Who, having travelled it, could do otherwise? I
have visited several important cities of the Union, and I feel
much gratification and pride in saying that I liave been treated
with the greatest degree of hospitality, liberality, and attention —
not only professionally but in private life. I have, traveller-
like, made my observations as I went along ; and what is
the result? 'Tis briefly told. I found a vast and glorious
country — a large and powerful nation — proud from industry,
independence and education; inilmed with honour, hospitality,
and alllucnce, and-I may use the term — universal equality,
forming a grand chain of union, which is strength ; each son
Farewell to America. 127
a link, feeling an individual responsibility for the protection of
liis country, made invulnerable by a constitution founded on
principles of honour, as set forth by its immortal father,
Washington. This is the result of my visit ; and so deeply am
I impressed with admiration of your country, that I hope to
return to it, and I have to regret all do not feel as I do. And
I have but one maxim to lay down for those who contemplate
visiting you — to first divest themselves of all prejudice, and
indelible satisfaction must follow. I am unwilling to trespass
any further on your patience, and, reiterating my deep sense of
gratitude to my donors and to all, I am compelled to utter that
impressive word ' farewell ' ; but 1 trust only for a short time.
The ties of kindred and home command me, for a time, to leave
you. For as Eliza Cook beautifully expresses it : —
"'There's a magical tie in the land of my home,
Which the heart cannot break, though the footsteps may roam ;
Be that land where it may,- at tlie line or the pole,^
It still holds the magnet that draws back the soul.'
" May heaven bless you ! And that prosperity and happiness
may reign uninterrupted among you shall often be my prayer
when far away. Allow me, then, with every feeling of sincerity,
reluctantly but most respectfully to say farewell — farewell ! "
Farewell it was indeed, for Brooke was fated never to
renew his acquaintance with his whole-souled friends across the
Atlantic. Making his last appearance in America on Tuesday,
June 14, at the Walnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia, as Othello,
he set sail immediately for England, leaving nought but
pleasant memories behind him. That his final tour had proved
uniformly prosperous is shown by the fact that from the Gth of
September previously he had acted something like 180 times at
an average nightly profit of about £,'k5. All told, his repertory
during this period consisted of twenty-four parts (of which
Richelieu and the Guerilla Chief had been newly added), the
largest demand being upon Fabian and Louis Dei Franchi (44),
Othello (15), Sir Giles Over-reach (14), and Shylock (11) ; the
figures in brackets representing the number of repetitions of
128 Gustavus Vaaghan Brooke.
each character. Considermg that the tour had brought hitn in
upwards of £8,000, it is not surprising that, after settHng all the
liabilities incurred in connection with his unfortunate managerial
experiences in New York, he was enabled to return home
with a substantial sum in pocket. Evidently sincere in the
sentiments expressed in his farewell address at Boston, he
ever retained the most grateful recollections of his reception
throughout the Union. A slight exchange of amenities in after
years vividly illustrated this. Among the many setting high
esteem upon the friendship of Brooke was Mr. R. C. Burke,
proprietor of the Cork Theatre, who once sent the tragedian an
agreeable keepsake in the shape of a dagger which had belonged
to Edmund Kean. Superstitious to a nicety, like most actors,
Brooke remembered him of the old idea that gifts of this kind
sever friendship unless nominally purchased by the exchange
of a coin. To effect his purpose without giving oft'ence he
unfastened a dollar piece of the year iHiO, which he had
worn on his watch-chain since his return from America, and
forwarded it to Mr. Burke, together with a note explaining his
whim, and referring to the indemnifying trifle as "the coin
of the country where every man, whether Englisli or Irish,
receives the best reward for his labour."
CHAPTER VIII.
1853—1854.
Brooke Reappears at Birniingham, and Knters upon a Sliort Provincial
Tour— A Successful and Protracted Dniry Lane Engagement— J/ze
i?c<ro//(rt^— Presentation at the Coal- Hole Tavern— Brooke's Christmas
Boxes to the Poor— Reappears at Drury Lane— Production of The
Vendetta— \n All-night Sitting in ^Linchester—0/ Hrfjjo Prouglit Out
for the First Time at Birmingham -P.rooke Meets Coppin and Arranges
to go to Australia — His Third Drury Lane Engagement —First
Appearance in London in Irish Comedy — Accedes to a Public
Requisition to Act at tlie City of London Theatre, and says (Jood-bye
to his Friends in England.
M
AKING liis reappearance in England at the Theatre Royal,
Birmingham, on Monday, July 25, Brooke fulfilled a ten-
nights' engagement tliere, and departed for Duhlin with the
assurance from Ayina llirmbifiham Gazette of "having proved by
the assumption of the most difficult characters within the range
of the drama that he is without doubt the greatest tragic actor
on the stage." After passing a few days tranquilly in the
Irish capital, whither he had gone mainly for the purpose of
introducing his wife to his circle of relatives, Brooke repaired to
Cork, where he was joyously received, and drew crowded houses
for a week despite the intense heat. Recalled after the per-
formance of Sir Giles Over-reach for his benefit on Friday,
August 20, he said : — -
" L.^DiEs AND Gentlemen, — Fatigued as you see I now am,
I cannot forego the opportunity of endeavouring to express to
you the great gratitude I feel in responding to your most
warm and enthusiastic call, and more so as it emanated from
an audience whicli twelve or thirteen years ago encouraged and
fostered the talent they thought 1 possessed. (Cheers.) Since
K
130 Gustavus Vaughan Brool'e,
I last had the pleasure of visiting this city, I am happy to say
that my star has been in the ascendant. (Clieers.) I have
just returned from America, where I met not only with success
but with the greatest degree of courtesy, kindness, and hospitality
from our brethren across the Atlantic ; and it is my intention
in the course of a few months to leave Europe again for
some years, for the purpose of exercising my professional
abilities in a far distant country. (Cries of — ' Success attend
you.') 1 am sure that I carry with me your good wishes
for my success — -(cheers, and cries of ' You have always had
them') — and wherever I may be the recollection of your
kindness shall never be forgotten. (Cries of ' We never will
forget you,' and applause.) And now, ladies and gentlemen, in
endeavouring to express my gratitude for past favours, and for
the compliment you have conferred on me by your presence
here this evening, allow me in return sincerely to wish that
increasing prosperity may attend the commercial interests of
the city of Cork, and at the same time allow me to wish that
happiness may reign uninterrupted among you. (Applause.)
Ladies and gentlemen, I am due at Belfast on Monday evening'
but owing to the solicitation of a great number of admirers
and friends I have been induced to appear here again on
to-morrow evening - (cheers, and ' You are welcome ') —which
night shall he set apart for the benefit of the worthy manager,
Mr. Poole." (Cheers.)
Brooke then retired amid great applause, only to return
immediately to pick up a laurel wreath that had been thrown
to him, and to apologise for the absence of mind which made
him overlook it. After the performance on the following evening
he came before the curtain and spoke a few words by way
of farewell in a voice full of emotion. " I didn't wonder at
Brookes emotion o)i this occasion," says "The Old Playgoer,"
as interviewed by Mr. J. W. Flynn, "because ho had a host of
friends in Cork, and it must have been a source of real pain
for him to part from Llion. Ho was very often at tlie G 's.
1 met liiui at dinner there often. In private life Brooke was a
Acting af Drur// Lane. \:'>\
man of delightful manner, frank and hearty. He always gave
me the idea of a man who thorouglily enjoyed his professional
success. I remember one night at G 's, someone asked him
to recite and he very gracefully complied. Someone asked him to
give ' Othello's Defence,' and he did so in liis own grand style.
Later he gave us ' Lord Ullin's Daughter.' In those days we
had not the extensive selection that reciters have now, when
almost every week sees a score of new pieces brought forward
to c'aim public favour. It is needless to say we were all
delighted with Brooke's recitation of the lachrymose lay of the
lover and the lady who went under the ' waters wild.' I can
never forget the infinite pathos he infused into the line, ' My
daughter, oh, my daughter ! ' "
Meantime the tragedian, little recking with what red-hot
enthusiasm his reappearance in London \vas to be greeted, had
settled with Mr. E. T. Smith, of Drury Lane, for a twenty-four
nights' sojourn at that theatre. Acting somewhat nervously in
the opening scenes on making his first appearance there, as
Othello, on Monday, September 5, he soon warmed to his work,
and, thanks to the sympathetic attitude of a crowded house,
gave on the whole sucli a stirring personation that the cheering
at the end was agreeably mingled with cries of ".Bravo, Brooke.''
From the theatre the next morning he wrote a brief note to a
Cork friend, saying, " Just a line to tell you of my splendid
success. Audience most enthusiastic. All the morning papers
speak well of me."
Although Brooke's old provincial admirers maintained that
his voice was never the same after the year 1848, the critics at
this period considered that it had now to all intents and purposes
recovered its normal power, and was enabling him to repeat
those somewhat uncommon feats of elocutionary force and finesse
to which his early success was largely attributable.
" Mr. Brooke's Othello," says the lUmtratcd London Xeim of
September 10 — "Mr. lirooke's Othello is a piece of acting pos-
sessed of many beauties ; the pathetic delivery of the great speeches
being remarkable for the quality of tone and tenderness of the
132 GustavKS Vaur/han Brooke.
expression. It Avas well chosen for the opening night, it being
generally appreciated as his best character. It certainly possesses
all the characteristics of his style ; and in none is he so equally
excellent. His other characters, such as Shylock, Richard
III., and Sir Giles Over-reach, are charged with physical
exuberance, which not seldom degenerates into violence and
extravagant excess. Nothing of this sort attached on Monday
to his Othello, which deservedly extorted from the house the
most enthusiastic applause." Supported by a powerful company,
prominent among whom were Mr. E. L. Davenport, Mr. George
Bennett, Miss Leslie, and Miss Anderton, Brooke continued to
act to uniformily crowded houses. On Saturday, September 10,
he gave his first rendering in London of the character of lago ;
an original conception which by many of his provincial admirers
was then and is still placed on a plane of excellence with his
Othello. Brooke's idea was to show that lago was not naturally
of a fiendish disposition, had no sordid hope of advancement,
and was malicious only because a deep - seated feeling of
revenge for wounded honour prompted him to be even
with the despoiler, wife for wife. With his interpretation of
the character, however, the critics entirely disagreed. " In
lago," says the Illustrated London Xfirs, " Mr. Brooke had a
character rather of intellect than passion, and one tliat required
subtle elocution, as distinguished from vehement demonstration.
The performer here, accordingly, is to be seen in quite another
light than Othello, and Mr. Brooke affected an air of easy
nonchalance and familiarity of speech that brought him to the
ordinary level of stage power. Tlie assumption of character
proved flippant ; there was no exaggeration, but there was no
profundity. Beep-seated malice was not indicated, though great
emphasis was judiciously given to the passages in the soliloquies
expressive of his jealous suspicions regarding both Othello and
Cassio. ^Ir. ]>rooke is far from the best lago we have on the
boards ; that of Mr. Marston is much superior, and Mr.
Vandenhoff's leaves it at an inn Measurable distance." The
selection was unfortunate in other respects, as the change of
Production of " CalaynosJ" 133
parts gave E. L, Davenport an opportunity of showing, by an
impersonation full of majestic grace, pathos, and cumulative
power, how perilously close he could go, in Othello, to the
bright particular star of the moment.
After this nothing of paramount importance took place until
Monday, September lU, when a new poetic play called The Betruthal,
by Mr. G. H. Boker — an American dramatist, whose Cidai/nos had
seen the light at Sadler's Wells a little time previously — was
produced at Drury Lane. Albeit the later piece had considerable
literary merit, its structure was too artificial, and its situations
(more especially the catastrophe) too puerile to admit of any great
success upon the stage. Seemingly unable to develop a theme
naturally by a succession of climaxes, the author had contented
himself in saturating his mind with the essence of the Elizabethan
drama, many striking passages in which were reproduced with all
the marks of modern super-refinement, but with little of the breadth
and masculinity of the golden age. Moreover, the elements of the
theme were not homogeneous ; though the ring was Shakespearian,
the metal on examination proved base. The large audience,
however, attracted to the theatre by the announcement of
a novelty was in nowise captious, and while far from unduly
demonstrative received the piece with considerable favour. The
character of Marsio the usurer, which evoked reminiscences now
and again of Shylock, Sir Giles Over-reach, and the Luke of
Massinger, was played by Brooke with much rugged force. His
acting reached the extreme height of power hi the scene where
the guests whom Marsio has attempted to poison turn the tables
by administering a soporific drug in his goblet, the action of
which causes all the physical agonies, and all the fears, of the
horrible death he had contrived for his visitors. But the loudest
applause of the evening was bestow'ed upon Mr. A. Young for his
exquisitely humorous rendering of a Lancelot Gobbo-like character
— I'ulti, the usurer's unfaithful servant. The play, however, was
so devoid of dramatic grip and sequential interest, that not all
the fine acting of Brooke, Young, E. L. Davenport, Mr. and Mrs.
Belton, and Miss Fetherstone could give it enduring popularity.
134 Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
On Saturday the 24th we find Brooke appearing as Virginius,
in which he had no rival, now that the great original had departed
from the scene. Holding his audience in the hollow of his
hand from the outset, he had not proceeded farther than the
end of the third act when his appearance before the curtain
was strenuously demanded. Says the Illustrated London News
(October 1), "The paternal character was especially illustrated;
and indicated with so much conscious ease, as well as apparent
impulse, that critics have formed from it a higher estimation of
the actor as an artist than they had received on previous
occasions."
On Thursday, September 29, Brooke's great success was
celebrated by his numerous friends and admirers at a dejeuner
held at the Coal -Hole Tavern, when Mr. E. T. Smith,
supported by Messrs. E. Stirling and G. Wild, presided over
the distinguished company, including John Oxenford of The
Times, that had assembled to do honour to the tragedian.
After the chairman had presented the hero of the hour with a
splendidly mounted dagger and a diamond ring, and had been
thanked in a short but eloquent speech, Mr. Kenton Nicholson,
the host, delivered a powerful eulogy on the talents of Edmund
Kean, and was feelingly responded to by Mr. John Lee. Mr.
E. T. Smith, replying to the toast of "The Chairman,"
explained at length the difficulties he had to encounter in
forming a company for Drury Lane, and confessed that he
was doubtful about the policy of his venture until assured by
the great success of Mr. Brooke's engagement. He then
announced, amid vociferous applause, that he had secured the
services of the tragedian for another three weeks.
Apart from the evidence afforded by this immediate
'■e-engagement, signs are not wanting to show that Brooke had
now renewed tlie triumphs of his early Olympic appearances.
Vast as was the theatre, the management had found itself
unable to cope in an ordinary way with the persistent demand
for seats. Finally, several morning performances of otlnlln and
\'irftinius were given to large and fashionable audiences; a rare
A Memorahle AchievemenU 135
thing in the days wlien the niatini'e was quite unknown as a
regular theatrical function.
Satisfactory as it must have Ijeon to Brooke to mark the
thorough re-establishment of his reputation in the metropolis,
he could hardly have been aware at the outset of the magnitude
of his achievement. For some considerable time previously
the fortunes of Drury Lane had been at a very low ebb.
The so-called National Theatre had passed rapidly through the
hands of a succession of managerial adventurers, who evinced
but scant respect for its glorious traditions, and turned the
temple of art into a vast raree-show. Without any extraneous
aid, Brooke by the glamour of his acting had enabled Mr. E. T.
Smith to stem the tide, and despite the growing importance
of Spectacle, had shown (what Helen Faucit at the same theatre
in January, 1852, had failed to do) that the legitimate drama
could still be made attractive without a gorgeously exuberant
mm' en schw. How great, indeed, was this purely histrionic
triumph can only be conceived by remembering that Charles
Kean at this period was in the heat of his elaborate archreological
revivals at the Princess's Theatre, and had quite recently drawn
all London to see his magnificent production of SiinldUKjialK,'^.
Taking his benefit on Monday, October 3, Brooke, after the
performance of Mn/iniHs, delivered the following eloquent address,
amid the ever-recurring plaudits of a crowded house: —
" Ladies and Gentlemen, — I can recall no instance in my
whole career when I found it so difiicult to give adequate
expression to my feelings as on the present occasion. The
immense crowds that have thronged this vast theatre through
a long engagement, at the worst season of the year, and the
enthusiastic acclamations that have hailed my appearance in
every variety of character, have so completely outstripped my
expectations and desert that I find myself at this moment, when
I most need it, without the power to convey in commensurate terms
my fitting acknowledgment or my fervent sense of gratitude.
'' The applause and honours 1 was so fortunate to receive
at the hands of warm-hearted strangers, whom 1 so lately left.
136 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke,
were most grateful to me ; but this glorious welcome back to
the stage of my country is doubly dear, not only as a mark of
your personal esteem, but as a proof to my American friends
that I am not without some small merit in the eyes of my
countrymen.
" There are considerations, however, connected with this
event far beyond my individual success, that touch my heart
more nearly. My reception ni this metropolis at this particular
juncture, when the theatrical world is worn out by a variety
and excess of amusements that accumulate during the feverish
months of a London season, is a sure and consoling sign that
the noble art to which I belong is not dead ; that, in spite
of all seductions, the Bard of Avon still lives in the eternal
admiration of my countrymen, and that the wonderful creations
of his genius, however feebly portrayed, are still followed by
congregated thousands.
" This is creditable, in the highest degree, to the pure taste
of my countrymen. It is, besides, a national tribute to that
marvellous intellect which has given such elevation to the
dramatic literature of England, as to leave it, for upwards of
two centuries, unapproached amid the rivalry of nations.
" The dramatists of France, of Spain, of Germany, have
sent forth productions that will endure — that shed honour upon
themselves, and fame upon their countries ; but the glory of our
country is still undhnmed. Nay, it only grows the brighter as
we contemplate the immeasurable distance between the height
his genius scaled, and that of all his competitors. The homage
of his countrymen is justified by the universal admiration of all
men ; for, in every tongue and every land, Shakespeare is
declared to be the sole heir to immortality. I feel it an honour
and a privilege to interpret, however unskilfully, the inspirations
of this mighty mind ; and my vocation is not without its value
if it serve to perpetuate them in all their iniporisliablc beauty.
This is, indeed, an arduous task.
" But if the toils and exertions of my dillicult profession
reijuired a now stinnilant — if my energies demanded a new
His Macbeth. lo7
incentive to greater etl'ort, I could not fail to find them in
the crowds that have followed me, in the applause that has
been so kindly, so prodigally showered upon me to-night, and
week after week, since I first appeared before you.
"It will be a reward beyond my hopes if, in the estimation of
this vast and brilliant assemblage, it shall be decreed that I have
contributed something to the revival of a noble entertainment —
that I have earnestly sought to 'hold the mirror up' to the
majestic proportions of our national bard ; and that, for a time
at least, I have aided in restoring to its pristine and loftiest
use the lovely temple of art now irradiated by your presence."
Mr. E. T. Smith, the manager, made a personal appeal to the
public on Wednesday, October 19, and in a speech delivered after
the play referred to the rumour then current in the papers that
the tragedian was under agreement to return to America for a
period of four years, and hinted that nevertheless there was just a
possibility of his appearing again on the boards of old Drury after
the run of the pantomime in the ensuing year. The occasion was
marked by Brooke's appearance as Macbeth — a character on which
he had not been inclined hitherto to risk his metropolitan reputa-
tion. " Certainly," says the Illustrated f/mdon Xcws of October 22
— " Certainly it requires a subtlety of delineation, alien from his
general style, and not (juite in accordance with the peculiar
physical power to which his eliects are generally due. Wisely,
however, he has adopted an interpretation of the character which
gives him, at the beginuing, an opportunity of assuming the
noble and heroic bearing predicated by the poet of the warlike
Thane previous to his fall. The remorse that accompanied the
progress of the assassination was something, therefore, very
diil'erent from and much better than that craven fear with which
the act is absurdly accompanied by performers in general."
Beyond the occasional appearance of the tragedian in
one or two unsuitable characters, nothing whatever occurred
throughout to mar the brilliance of this long extended triumph.
Nevertheless, the impression of inec^uality thus given served as
a handle to the few dissentients from the general verdict, who
138 GustavHS Vaughan Broohe.
contended that, stripped of his great physical advantages, Brooke
was an unintellectual actor. The personal equation cannot, of
course, be ignored in summing up the merits and demerits of
a great player. Allowing, for argument's sake, that Brooke's lago
was quite as indifferent as Macready's Othello, surely the
deficiency in both does not warrant us in placing either on a
lower grade in the histrionic scale than some less noted actor
who could play both characters with equal facility.
During the succeeding provincial tour, Brooke appeared in
no part of any particular newness save Richelieu, which, after
the retirement of Macready, he had wisely added to his
repertory. Differing essentially on many points from the
presentment of the great original, Brooke's rendering of the
Cardinal was " lit up by flashes of genius," as an Australian
critic once put it, "as though he were controlled by some
unseen intelligence, greater and stronger than himself, who
played upon his vital functions as a fine musician plays upon
a grand instrument." Commencing his tour at the Royal
Amphitheatre, Liverpool, on Monday, October 24, and visiting
Birmingham and Sheflield in rapid succession, Brooke's progress
through the provinces was, as Mr. Coleman points out, the
march of a conqueror. Every town was entered in a superb
equipage drawn by four horses, and embellished by two outriders
in scarlet. Whether going to or proceeding from the theatre
his carriage was always surrounded by a ragged retinue of
admirers, who delighted in unharnessing the horses and drawing
the tragedian througli the town unaided. The newspapers for
the most part, however, professed to see great inequahty in his
performances ; but with this reservation confessed that, taken
for all in all, he was the best actor then on the boards in his
range of characters. " None of the faults usually imputed to
his acting were apparent," says the llelfaHt Xi'ics-J.cttcr in
treating of his Claude Melnotte ; " there was not a trace of
rant ; there were no abrupt or vcntriloquial tricks of voice ;
no rude or ill-ordered gestures : all was graceful, suitable,
intellectual, and truly manlike and natural."
Redeeming Traits. loO
According to his usual custom at Christmas time — no matter
wliere he miglit find liimself situated — Brooke while in ]3elfast
distributed some Vlo blankets to the deserving poor. His method
was to forward tickets to three or four clergymen of ditierent
denominations, with instructions to bestow them where they
thought proper. Ivach ticket when presented at a certain local
shop entitled the bearer to receive a blanket in exchange. It
was a strange whim, but Brooke's charity was certainly genuine,
and in most instances utterly unostentatious. Sometimes the
gift was varied, and coals, soup, or tickets for the play substituted
for the blankets. Indeed, his kindness to the poor in Ireland
was such that a sub-stratum of truth underlies the humour of
the well-worn statement that the lower classes in his native
country used (o teach their children to pray for "father and
mother and Gustavus Brooke." To the humbler members of
his own profession whose distress became apparent, he was
equally humane and generous : a quality which, combined with
his comparative freedom from professional jealousy, contrived to
render him in purely theatrical circles the best-beloved actor
of his time. As illustrative of his large-heartedness Mr. W.
Dinsmore relates an anecdote which strikes the keynote of
Brooke's chai-acter, and accounts in great measure for the
financial straits in which he ever found himself. Always helping
others and always needing help himself, the tragedian was never
without a friend ready and willing to respond to his appeal.
Riding one day in an open carriage in the neighbourhood of
Manchester, with Walter Montgomery and another friend, Brooke
rather surprised his companions by abruptly breaking off the
conversation and commanding the driver to stop. Without
deigning a word of explanation, Gustavus, as soon as the
vehicle drew up, ran swiftly down the road and paused before
a miserable looking woman, who in company with two puny,
half-starved children was resting herself dejectedly by the way-
side. Having eased his mind by emptying the contents of his
pockets into the astonished vagrant's lap. the tragedian ran
back as quickly as possible, and telling the driver to go
IttO Gustavus Vaughaii Brooke.
ahead, at once took up the conversation where he had
ruptured it.
Notwithstandmg he had ah-eady said " good-bye " to his
friends in Cork, Brooke was easily induced to return there
immediately after his Belfast engagement, and was received
with great warmth on making his reappearance on Boxing
Night. Some idea of the interest taken in the tragedian's
career in the southern city at this period may be gleaned from
a powerful article, entitled " Mr. G. V. Brooke as an Actor,"
which appeared in the Cork Southern lleportcr of December 31,
1853. In the course of a long and searching analysis of the
tragedian's characteristics, his style is thoughtfully and by no
means invidiously contrasted with that of Macready, for whom
the writer has equal admiration. " In Macready," he says,
" we always perceived the highly-polished, educated, and careful
artist, whose greatest achievements are due to the study of the
closet and the effects of scenery and costume. In Brooke we
have a man who, while assiduously cultivating these aids, at
the same time evinces his opinion that they are, after all,
only secondary, and relies mainly for a triumph on that
brilliant genius wherewith he is endowed. This is proved by
the intrepidity with which he has undertaken his finest parts,
not alone unsupported, but absolutely seriously embarrassed and
foiled by the other performers, and yet succeeded in calling
forth an amount of applause as enthusiastic and cordial as it
was deserved He, in common with others who have
preceded hiin, can boast of delicate perception of character,
readiness in appreciating ' points ' (a trick which he only
resorts to where it is absolutely necessary to redeem the
dialogue from tameness), and boldness and breadth of
conception. In this latter (juality, indeed, he excels those of
his predecessors we liave seen, and the only one of his
contemporaries who could fairly be named in coiniection with
him, Mr. Pholps." After playing four or live nights at
Limerick, Brooke returned to Cork, and in accordance with
a requisition of the citizens, as made througli the ]\hiyor and
///.s- Brutus. 141
Corporation, reappeared there on Saturday, January 7, 1854,
Recalled after the performance of IVirlidien, for the manager's
benefit, he was received with a shower of bouquets from all
parts of the theatre, and finally presented with an artistically-
constructed laurel crown. " Brooke made a short speech,"
records Mr. J. W. Flynn, " in whicli he referred to the
flattering compliment paid him by the citizens, and said he
should be proud to inform his wife, the partner of his cares
and his hopes, who was prevented by illnes3 from witnessing it,
of a triumph which should be remembered while memory held
her seat."
On the penultimate day of the month Brooke reappeared at
Drury Lane as Brutus, in the tragedy, so called, by Howard Payne.
Miss Fanny Cathcart — whose services for the projected American
tour had been previously secured at Liverpool — was in leading
support. Unfortunately a breach of good taste at the outset
seriously imperilled the success of the engagement. Mr. E.
T. Smith had injudiciously exceeded the bounds of play-house
panegyric in announcing the return of the star, and. the press
at once took umbrage at the ready-made encomiums. Rendered
somewhat petulant by this ill-advised puffery, the critics spoke of
Brooke's rendering of Edmund Kean's great part as striking, if
palpably unequal in the earlier scenes. He was found to be
lacking in skill in the assumption of idiocy, and too impatient
in his desire for the production of vehement effects to await
fitting opportunity. They allowed, however, that when this
excess of physical vigour was displayed in its proper place (the
malediction in the third act being a case in point) the effect on
the house was electrical. Equally nnpressive was the deep
pathos of the final situation, where the actor is called upon to
depict the strife between paternal solicitude and judicial duty.
Brooke's old friends had assembled in overwhelming force, and
were remarkably demonstrative throughout. But despite the
bouquets and the applause the critics disallowed a triumph and
spoke only of a success of esteem. They were much better
pleased with his Master Walter on the succeeding evening. And
14:2 Gustavus Vawjlian Brooke.
well they might : he was then quite unapproachable in the
character.
On Wednesday, February 22, Gibber's version of Richard III.
was brought out in opposition to Charles Kean, who had just
revived the spurious piece at the Princess's Theatre. Phelps
had previously produced the orthodox Shakespearian play at
Sadler's Wells ; but the clap-traps of Pope's old antagonist were
too precious to the plaudit-loving tragedian to allow of any
immediate emulation of this praiseworthy action. Blundering
again, the Drury Lane management evoked odious comparisons
by neglecting to furnish the play with a new and appropriate
mise en scene. This policy had its redeeming merit, as a wag
remarked at the time, because the old stock scenery had its
enjoyable associations in reminding the spectator of many a
previous night spent at the play. Possibly if the ensemble had
been powerful and complete, no invidious allusions would have
been made to the spectacular splendour of Charles Kean's revival.
The play is, after all, the thing ; and Brooke had already shown
to good purpose that large audiences could be attracted nightly
by the unaided brilliance of fine acting. But on this occasion
he appears to have given a very ineffective performance ; allied
to which the support accorded — excepting the Richmond of Mr.
T. Mead and the King Henry of Mr. George Bennett— failed to
rise above the level of a third-rate provincial theatre.
The true secret of E. T. Smith's carelessness in mounting
the play probably lay in the fact that elaborate preparations
were being made for the production of the version of T/w Corsinm
Ihdthers performed by Brooke in America upwards of 100 nights.
Under the title of Tlie Vendrttd, this piece was first introduced to
the notice of an English audience on Monday, February 27, and
well-nigh damned at the outset owing to the incompleteness of
the mechanical arrangements and other defects arising from a
want of thorough rehearsal Tlio audience had evidently become
grounded in ihe mystery of the story from Boucicault's well-knit
adaptation, and took advantage of the mimerous scenic hitches
to express their disapproval of the long, cumbrous version in
A?i Jll-ordered Campaiyii. 143
five acts and nine tableaux. A vigorous use of the pruning knife
soon brought things more ship-shape. But the fiat liad gone
forth that the piece was a faihire ; and not all the fine acting of
Brooke as Fabian and Louis Dei Franchi, and Mead as Chateau
Renaud, could suffice to hold it on the boards longer than
twelve nights.
The management was now all at sea. Two new plays,
announced as in rehearsal for immediate production, and as
expressly written for the bright particular star of the moment,
never saw the light. During the last two weeks of his
engagement, Brooke appeared on alternate nights in a round
of well-worn characters, bringing an ill-ordered campaign to an
end on Saturday, March 25, with a performance of HdinJet.
Among the Morris correspondence we find the following: —
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane,
16th March, 1854.
Sir,
Mr. G. V. Brooke desires me to present his kind regards and to
ask you to inform him what he is indebted to you. Altliough you are
down in his schedule of insolvency as a creditor for £10, he wonders
whether it is so or not — as your many acts of kindness to him left no
other record but gratitude ; and I am one of his true friends (I hope)
and am desirous to take the schedule oil" the file at once, but cannot do
so unless I hand in the necessary releases of the creditors. The favour
of your sending such a release or receipt on receipt of this, and letting
him know what he is indebted — which he will remit— will expedite this
very necessary ad'air and be esteemed a further obligation.
Mr. G. V. B. desires me to add that being so overwhelmed by
business and study is why he does not write himself now, but will do
so in a few days.
I am,
\'ours very obedient,
J. H. Wilton, for (i. V. Brooke.
Returning almost immediately to the provinces, Brooke on
^lay 19 wrote to his friend ]\Iorris from the Theatre Royal,
Glasgow, acquainting him of his whereabouts, and promising to
run down to Ayr as soon as opportunity ofiered. " Our houses
here are very good indeed," he continues, "and my engagement
will turn out very well. Everything has been going on (thank
144 Giistavus Vaughan Brooke.
God) most prosperously with me, and the only inconvenience I
feel is the constant and successive exertions of my mental and
physical faculties, which perhaps require a little relaxation.
However, I am determined to reserve to myself the month of
August for a pleasant tour, which will no doubt renovate me
and prepare me for a fresh campaign." So attractive were his
performances in Glasgow that before the termination of his
engagement the management had secured his services for another
twelve nights, commencing Saturday, June 3. Following on the
heels of this came a month's sojourn at the Queen's Theatre,
Manchester, the result of which is given in the undernoted
letter : —
7 Queen's Tehrace, Victoria Park,
longsight, kr. manchester,
Jitbi 4 [ISoJ/l
Mv Dear Mr. Morris,
I have been as busy as a bee since I left you, and am happy
to inform you that, notwithstanding every opposition from the Theatre
Itoyal here, our eilorts have been attended M'ith the most triuniphant
success— our house havinj^ been nightly filled, while the Eoyal presented
a beggarly account of empty boxes. Helen Faucit opened there last
evening as Pauline to about £3.'), while <)ur house was jammed, ^^'e
shall finish here on Saturday week, and commence on the same principle
at r.irmingham for a month on the '24th at the new theatre there, in
opposition to the Theatre Royal, which will not give me my terms. I
am sorry to say that Sultan has turned out no use as a carriage horse,
but is a most beautiful saddle one ; and I have got a nice grey to run
with Prince. ]»otli of them are in splendid condition. We are living
about two miles from Manchester, in the Park, a delightful place, and
as retired as if we were fifty miles from any large town ; and sleeping
in the country air has wrought a most material change in me. My wife
is still delicate, ])ut the weather has been so very uncertain here that it
has had a .singular effect upon all our constitutions, and when we are
blessed with sunsliine for an hour or so it is hailed with rapture. I will
feel very much obliged if you will ask .Mr. (I forget the gentleman's
name whom I had the pleasure of meeting at your table, but 1 know he
was an architect, and lived, as also did his father, in the road to Burns's
monument) for the itlan of his father's house, as I have taken a most
extraoidiiiary fniicy to it, and should like to build one for myself by tiie
banks of the iiuilsou ilivcr. I'.clieve me, my dear Mr. Morris,
V'our very sincerely attached friend,
(;. ^^ I'.IiOOKE.
I>et me, if possible, iiave the plan mid specification of the house.
An All-yi(j1d Sitting. 145
It is to be feared that on more tlian one occasion during
his stay in Manchester Brooke did not reach his suburban
residence, after the performance, until a very early hour in the
morning. Mr. William Stafford, a veteran journalist and poet, in
relating how he renewed the tragedian's acquaintance, after having
first met him years prenously in Glasgow, has kindly furnished
us with the following reminiscences of this engagement : —
"It was the midnight hour,"' he says, " Avhen I found him, with
many other gentlemen, comfortably seated in the cosy smoke-
room of a hotel near the theatre. He had that evening been
playing Julian St. Pierre, in Knowles' fine play of The Wife.
Jollity and good humour reigned supreme. Brooke was in grand
form. He had been playing night after night to crowded houses.
A large amount of money had been, for want of room, refused
at the doors ; and throughout the night or early morning all
went merry as a marriage bell. After two o'clock a.m., the
company began to disperse, and one by one they went away,
till at length there were but three people left in the room. Of
course poor Brooke was one of the trio ; the second individual
was an employe — a scene-shifter, I understood— at the theatre,
and the writer of this completed the party. Brooke and the
jolly scene-shifter had for some time been indulging in whiskies
hot, and it was evident that their deep libations to the 'jolly god '
had begun to tell upon the delicate network of their craniums.
Brooke was certainly ' o'er all the ills of life victorious,' and his
companion was not a whit behind. Brooke and I had a pleasant
chat about bygone times, when he was with David Prince Miller
in Glasgow. ' The wee short hours ayont the twal ' flew by on
rapid wing, but Brooke, who appeared to be in the seventh heaven
of delight, remained brimming over with conversation and good
fellowship. ' So you consider Julian St. Pierre one of my best
performances,' he said, smilingly, to his companion. ' Most
certainly,' replied the scene- shifter ; ' I have seen other big stars
in the part, but you bear away the palm.' Do you like my
Othello?' enquired the actor. 'Well raijtliur,'' \;\i\\ great stress
on the nn/tliur, was the answer. ' I saw you play Othello some
L
146 Gustavus Vaughan Broohe.
years ago, and even now I fancy I can bear the deep wail of
anguish which you put into the words, ' Desdemona dead i
! ! ! ' I cordially endorsed the opinion of the scene-
shifter, and said that none could readily forget the impression
created by the intense feeling which Brooke threw into the
brief passage. And still the ' whiskies hot ' kept coming in and
going down, till at length the scene-shifter, in his lethargy, put
the burning end of his cigar into his mouth, which made him
very wroth and angry. However, when he had sufficiently
cursed the weed he closed his dull eyes and fell fast asleep.
Shortly after this poor Brooke also gently sunk into the arms
of the drowsy god ; and as the clock struck five I went leisurely
home to my lodgings."
The new theatre in Birmingham, referred to in Brooke's
letter to Morris, was in reality the Bingley Hall which ]\Ir. John
Tonks, a busy, bustling, spirited little man in the printing
trade, had fitted up for dramatic performances in the December
previous, with a seating capacity (it is said) of some 4,500.
Considering the season of the year, Brooke's engagement at
Tonks' Theatre proved immensely successful. After playing a
round of his old characters, the tragedian on Wednesday, August
0, appeared for the first time in the name-part of a new tragedy
called Ornano, the work of Mr. S. Hillis, a Duhlin barrister.
Although favourably received during the two nights it was played
here (as evidenced by the fact that on both occasions the author
was loudly called for and as loudly cheered), the piece was not
strong enough to retain a permanent place in ]3rooke's repertory.
Replete with powerful situations, and playing well despite its
slowness of action, Onumo had little literaiy merit to commend
it to critical notice. The author had indulged in a redundancy
of language, and was far too exuberant in his use of tropes,
figures, and rhetorical phrases. That he had steeped his mind
ill the essence of the Elizabethan drama there could be no
doubt. Passage after passage cropped up in tlic play that
were little better than mild paraphrases of some of the best
remembered lines in Mncbeth, Uthclln, llomeo (tnd .hdiet, etc.
Production of •' Ornano." 147
Here is an example, the source of wliicli is too apparent to need
mention : —
" Oh ! Venice, still beloved.
Farewell ! I bid thee one last, long farewell !
No more for nie the cannon's distant roar
Shall wake the memory of the thunder's bolt !
lM)r me no more the glowing steel shall Imra
To rush amid the foe. Xo more in me
The trumpet's blast shall wake the liery breast ;
Nor the shrill fife, the dram's loud echo,
Nor the bugle's sound, arouse my soul to arms."
The following account of the plot and acting of the
tragedy is taken from the notice in llw Birminr/ham Journal
and Commercial Advertiser, August 12, 1854: — "In the war
between the states of Venice and Genoa, Ornano, a young
soldier, married to Vanina, a Genoese, is appointed second in
command of the army. On his departure he leaves with his
wife his signet ring to ensure her protection and free passage
through the ranks on her visits. While the war is being
waged, Lovigo, the brother of Vanina, unconscious of hostilities,
arrives in Venice, is pursued and seeks refuge with his sister.
To save his life she entrusts him with her husband's nng, by
the aid of wliich he escapes. But it appears that subsequently
he avails himself of the signet to play the spy in the Venetian
ranks. He is arrested, and whispers the secret of his possession
of the ring into Ornano's ear. As communication with a
Genoese was death, he refuses to inculpate his wife, is supplanted
in his command, and sent home to \'enice. He is arraigned as
a traitor, and the last sentence of the law is about to be passed
upon him, when Vanina rushes in and avows that she alone is
the unconscious culprit. Ornano stands acquitted, and his wife
takes his place. She is led to execution, but to save her from
an ignominious death she falls pierced by her husband's hand.
The blow is scarcely struck when intelligence arrives that the
Venetian army are mutinous, refusing to meet the enemy unless
led by Ornano, and a respite for Vanina is announced. Ornano
rushes to the gates, and in the victory he there achieves receives
his death- wound and dies as the spirit of Vanina is borne upwards.
l-tS Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
This is, very briefly, the outline of the plot. There is, to be
sure, the commencement of a bit of underplot, and a conspiracy
in addition ; but they have, in reality, no purpose in the play.
The piece was put upon the stage in very creditable fashion,
and was well acted, as may be imagined when we state, in reality,
although the canvas is crowded, there are only two figures in
the piece ; and these were Mr. Brooke as Ornano and Miss
Cathcart as Vanina. In some of the scenes, however, Mr. Brooke
seemed to be improvising rather than working out a conception.
The first two acts went somewhat heavily, if we except the parting
inter\iew, and the struggle of affection with duty in Vanina's heart
when her brother pleads with her for his life. A really good, though
by no means original, efiect is produced by Ornano's dream, which
Mr. Brooke gave very finely ; a remark which applies to his meeting
with Vanina, and to her anguish and self-accusation. This, perhaps,
is the most powerful passage in the piece."
The Birmingham engagement was otherwise noteworthy for
Brooke's meeting with Mr. George Coppin, the famous Australian
manager, who after a chequered experience of some eleven years
in the Colonies had just returned to the old country in search
of novelties. As a first-class tragedian naturally came within
the category, Coppin made it his business to induce Brooke to
sign articles, whereby he agreed to give two hundred perform-
ances in the principal cities of Australia and New Zealand at
a nightly salary of £50 clear of all charges, the other taking
all responsibility and risk.* One result of this was that the
Australian manager expended £4,000 shortly afterwards in the
construction of the shell and framework of a portable iron
theatre, capable of holding an audience representing £300, the
contract for which was undertaken by Messrs. Edward T.
Bellhouse & Co., of the Eagle Foundry. Another was the
issuing by John Tonks, of Birmingham, on Monday, August 21,
of a circular soliciting subscriptions to the Brooke Testimonial
• These terms .ire f,'iven in accordance with the ne\vsi>aper aniiounoo-
ments of tlie period ; hut Mr. Coleman tells us the engagement was for
tw(j years certain at Ji nij,'iitly salary of flUO.
Beappears at Driinj fjirui. 149
Fund, it being "contemplated by some of the friends and
admirers of the above eminent actor to present liim with an
appropriate memento of the high sense entertained for him as
a man and an actor." In the printed appeal it is farther
stated that an appropriately designed candelabrum was in view,
the presentation to take place "on the occasion of his farewell
in London on the 11th of October." But as the newspapers
of that period (theatrical or otherwise) are completely silent
regarding the proposed mark of esteem, we must take leave to
doubt whether Mr. Tonks' efforts ever had practical issue.
After giving six performances on alternate nights in the
Coventry and Leamington Theatres (where he was efficiently
supported by Miss Fanny Cathcart, Mr. Belton, Mr. A. Young,
and Mrs. Selby), Brooke repaired to Ireland for a brief holiday.
Writing from 3 Marine Terrace, Kingstown, in reply to an applica-
tion from ]\Iessrs. Johnson & Nelson Lee, asking his terms for a
few nights at the City of London Theatre, he says :— " Having for
the last thirteen months been constantly engaged (although, thank
God, I never was so well in health as I am at present), I feel I
should like a few days on the Continent, and propose going thither
after the lith of October, for about three weeks, at the conclusion
of my Cambridge engagement, or I should be tempted to visit you,
as I have had so many solicitations to do so, and really feel
awkward in my incessant refusals ; but my every hour that could
be rendered available for professional services has been seized upon,
and I am at this moment thronged with applications for even a
single night in the towns surrounding, but being under contract to
sail for Australia I am reluctantly compelled to decline."
In consonance with a prior arrangement Brooke reappeared at
Brury Lane on Monday, October 2, and notwithstanding the fact
that the trouble in the Crimea was absorbing public attention,
gave a brief series of farewell performances to substantial houses.
Enthusiastically recalled by an overflowing assemblage after the
performance of Macbeth on October 9 (nominally the last night of
the engagement), Brooke took advantage of the favour to deliver
the following speech : —
150 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
" Ladies and Gentlemen, — It is little more than fourteen
months since I had the honour of appearing before you on my
return fi'om the United States. The welcome which then greeted
me withiii these walls I shall never forget. It repaid me in the
emotions of a moment for the many trying vicissitudes of my
previous career, and aroused me to new and unimagined efforts.
During the interval I have given in Great Britain and Ireland
374 personifications, and notwithstanding the mental and bodily
fatigue attending on such a task, I feel grateful to say I have
managed to preserve my health. I say this in no boastful
spirit, but rather in the hope of showing that I have struggled
hard to merit the patronage and applause so heartily bestowed
on my humble efforts ; and I can only account for the buoyancy
which has borne me through it by the constant and heart-
stirring encouragement that met me in every town where I
appeared, and sustained me with unceasing warmth to this last
hour of my engagement. Under ordinary circumstances such
strong and general tokens of public estimation could not fail to
impress me deeply, but on the eve of my departure for a far-
distant land, with the certainty of a long absence from my
native country, it is impossible to recall the intensely gratifying
recollections of the past year without giving way to feelings I
shall not attempt to describe. Ladies and gentlemen, in uttering
that short but lingering word, ' Farewell,' I do so in the hope
that I may be spared to return and become again a candidate
for your favour ; and allow mc to assure you, and my generous
patrons throughout the length and breadth of the land, that
neither distance nor time shall subdue or weaken my profound
and grateful sense of your past kindness."
On the following evening Brooke appeared as Claude
Melnotte, giving his services voluntarily on behalf of the
Licensed Victuallers' School and Asylum, which had been
tendered a benefit at the theatre.
Jjut a surprise was yet in store for his Drury Lane adnnrers.
Saying "good-bye" in real earnest on Wednesday, October 11,
lie appeared in I lie Sl><oi(/cr, and signalised the occasion by
His In'slt (liaracterisations. 15 i
giving his first performance in London of an Irish character.
Challenging comparison with Tyrone Power by electing to figure
as O'Callaghan in Ilia Ln-^t Lajs, he came satisfactorily through
the ordeal, receiving high praise for a forcible and original
rendering, but being deemed, on the whole, inferior in c/s coinira
to his lamented compatriot. Only in the provinces and Australia
were his merits as a natural Irish comedian, devoid of all
stageyuess, appreciated to the full. Speaking of his Captain
Mui'phy Maguij'G, his O'Callaghan, and one or two otiier
Irish parts, the "Old-Fashioned Playgoer" says: — "In these
performances there seemed to be no acting ; all was apparently
the outcome of animal spirits and the inspiration of the moment.
This was a very distinguishing feature indeed of liis acting in
all his parts ; the only difference was that in the grand parts
his copious animation and manly amplitude corporealised and
breathed soul into the dry bones of the poet's valley of vision ;
while in colloquial rollicking parts, especially Irish ones, he had
simply to be himself without even those golden shackles of
convention and tradition which he wore so gracefully. It were
a curious speculatioii to imagine what might have been done by
a man so magnificently gifted with ductile powers if he had the
originality to anticipate or the aptitude to meet that demand for
quieter and more natural tragedy which is so general, but which
no living actor in the least degree satisfies, simply because those
who try to be natural cease to be tragic."
Meanwhile a requisition,* signed by upwards of 400 influential
merchants, bankers, and traders of the metropolis, had been for-
warded to Brooke, soliciting a few performances at the City of
London Theatre on behalf of many living in the East-end who,
"owing to the distance, business hours, and other circumstances,"
had been debarred from the pleasure of witnessing his performances.
" Were I to refuse so marked a token of respect," writes Brooke in
reply, under date Drury Lane, October 6, " I should feel myself
* A copy of this, signatures and all, together with Brooke's reply,
appeared in The Times of Thursday, October 12, and was afterwards
reprinted for distribution by the City of London Management.
152 Gustai'us Vai((jlmn Brooke.
unworthy of the unparalleled encouragement bestowed on my
humble efforts in this country. I therefore cheerfully relinquish
my premeditated trip, and have instructed my agent to close with
your liberal offer, and will perform at your establishment for a
limited number of nights." After fulfilling a short engagement at
Cambridge, which evoked much interest, he at once repaired to
the East-end theatre, where his old repertory proved so attractive
that hundreds were turned nightly from the doors.
In taking leave of his " many kind and liberal friends," in
an advertisement in Tlie Era, before embarking for Melbourne,
Brooke lays bare his mind in a manner entirely ^uncharacteristic
of the genus actor. He most respectfully returns his sincere
thanks " to the press in general for the very great kindnesses
which they have shown him in their frequent notices of
his professional efforts, notwithstanding the many expressed
differences of opinion regarding his endeavours." Continuing in
this strain, "he begs to assure them that in no wise does
chagriii arise, for in very many instances where criticism has
thought proper to censure he has found suggestions of worth,
and wherever possible, has taken advantage of them with great
benefit ; for experience alone can teach, and he desires most
emphatically to thank all for their great liberality towards him,
and trusts that, if the old adage ' Practice makes perfect ' may
come to him, nothing shall be wanting on his part to use his
every endeavour to become more worthy of the noble profession
he has the honour to belong to." We find him furthermore
" imbued with the fervent hope that in 1857, after having
fulfilled his engagement already made (n.v.) in the colonies of
Australia, California, and the United States, he may again have
the honour of appearing in this country and merit a continuance
of their recognition." But Fate had decided otherwise. He was
not to revisit the United States or to win additional laurels in
California, any more than he was to return homewards within a
space of two or tlu'ee years. So the pleasant residence on the
banks' of the Hudson, like many another project conceived by
the same mind, proved a mere ca.sllc in the air.
g;r^rc^fr;yiy;.-^-^;yVi^;'rS?T??pgr^7^^
CHAPTER IX.
Australia. 1854—1856.
Brooke Sails for Melbourne in the S.S. Pacific — A Protracted \'oya;^e —
Acts at Capetown with Miss Fanny Cathcart — The Drama in
]\Iell)Ourn(?-('opiiin's Ciiequereil Career —Brooke's First Api'earance
in the Colonies -Virj^inius' Dog — Visits Geelong and Sydney —
Trilmtes, I'octical and otherwise— Opening of Coppin's (Jlynipic,
alias "The Iron I'ot"— Brooke's First Appearance as King Lear —
Quarrels ■with Bohert Heir— An Avalanche of Testimonials — Adds
Con>.iderabIy to liis Bepcrtory of Tragic and Irish Characters — Visits
Tasmania — Enters into Partnership with Ceorge Coppin, and once
more essays Theatrical Management— Death of his Brother— Opens
the Lyceum Theatre, Sydney— First Ajipearance as Werner.
AFTER spending a few happy days in the family circle in
Dublin, Brooke left for Plymouth, via Holyhead and
Bristol, on November 22, but owing to a vexatious delay on
the road, only arrived at the southern seaport on the evening
prior to his departure. Feeling rather gloomy he betook himself
to an American circus which was enjoying great favour there,
and found the place crammed, it happening to be a benefit
night. "During the scenes in the circle," wrote Brooke to his
mother from the Royal Hotel, " the clown began to give some
quotations from Shakespeare, and alluding to a gentleman in
the circle, whom he had never before seen in a private capacity,
mentioned my name, paid me most marked compliments, and
concluded by wishing me every success in the land of gold, at
which the audience cheered most vehemently." Promising in
the same letter to drnik his good mother's health every day at
live o'clock, and to keep a log-book for her amusement, he
affectionately subjoins, "I pray to God that we may meet again
round a nice family fire, and ' I have a saving faith within me
tells me thai we shall.' "
154 Gusfavus Vaughan Brooke.
Accompanied by Miss Fanny Cathcart, Mr, Eicbard Younge,
Mr. J. Hall ^Yilton, and two servants, Mr. and Mrs. Brooke sailed
from Plymouth in the new steamship Pacific at four o'clock
on the afternoon of Saturday, November 25. During the first
week, and on several occasions afterwards, the usual routine of
the voyage was diversified in anything but pleasant fashion by
the repeated breaking of- the connecting rods of the paddlewheels,
which delayed the steamer very considerably. Happily the
weather proved fine, and grew so sultry as they approached the
tropics that Brooke found it necessary to take his rest at night
on deck. The condition of his wife's health, now for some time
delicate, was causing him much anxiety ; but, apart from this,
he enjoyed himself serenely, pronounced the captain and officers
''trump cards," and was soon on agreeable terms with most of
the passengers. In the evening they would have singing and
dancing on deck — the latter very hard work, calling for copious
libations of soda-water and lemonade. "At half past five,"
records Brooke in his log-book under date December 3, "we
saw a strange thing. The moon in her brilliancy on the
larboard side of the vessel, and the sun just within half-an-hour
of setting on the other side ; the sky the most beautiful thing
I ever beheld ; not a breath of wind stirring, and the sea like
a mirror."
Arriving at St. Vincent two days afterwards, Brooke went
on shore to escape the dirty, but necessary, process of coaling, was
cordially received by the Commandant and suite, and wiled the
time away generally in watching the antics of the natives, whose
naked picaninnies tried their best to steal his pet dog. By
the 29th of the month the vessel had reached the Cape of Good
Hope, where, as soon as the passenger list was made known,
a number of residents, who in bygone days had enjoyed Brooke's
acting in the old country, gladdened his heart by coming on board
to give him welcome. Like Charles Dickens, he discovered that
the world was a very small world after all, and that one fell across
acquaintances in the most unlikely places. In a long letter to
his mother, dated "Melbourne, March 10, 1855," he says— " A
Acthuj at Capetown. 155
deputation waited on nie at Capetown, requesting me either to
read a play or enact one. There was a small garrison theatre
ill the barrack, and a number of gentlemen amateurs volunteered
their services to assist. I complied with their request, and we
played Othello, The Ijnh/ of Lijuns, and The Stnimjer. The
theatre each night was crammed to sutiocation. The tickets were
sold by auction, and brought as high as thirty shillings each.
One day we started from Capetown, but had not got above
ten miles from the liarbour when the paddle-wheel rods broke
and we were obliged to return ; in consequence of which we
were compelled to give another night at the theatre, which
consisted of selections from different authors." Previous to the
departure of the steamer on the following day, Miss Fanny
Cathcart was waited upon at the hotel by a deputation representing
the leading members of the Colonial Legislature, and presented
with a gold watch and chain as a mark of their gratification
and esteem.
Before the close of the voyage a similar but more dubious
presentation was made by the passengers to Hall Wilton,
Brooke's agent, who had contrived to keep himself in evidence
through acting as auctioneer of the tickets sold daily in
connection with the pool held over the vessel's progress.
As the tragedian had an idea that the testimonial was more
or less of Wilton's own getting up, the incident only served
to add to the annoyance he bad already felt over an attempt
on the part of that gentleman to pose as the impresario
who was about to exploit the actor's genius in the Colonies.
A growing dislike of Wilton's professional methods (which were
of the school of his old employer, Barnum) begot in Brooke
mistrust of the man ; and this eventually led to serious and
unfortunate rupture.
After many vexatious and expensive delays, caused by
defective paddle-wheels and a shortness of coal, the Pacific
ai length reached Melbourne, having taken eighty-five days to
complete the passage. " On Thursday, the 22nd of February,"
writes Brooke to his mother, "we made Melbourne Heads, and
156 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
about ten o'clock came into Hobson's Bay, where an express
steamer with Coppin and the leading members of the theatrical
profession in the colony came alongside. After an introduction
to the latter and an affectionate farewell to the passengers we
went on board. When we landed [at Sandwich] there was a
coach-and-four waiting for us, beside divers and sundry other
vehicles, and off we started for Melbourne, about three miles
distant, and arrived at the Prince of Wales's Hotel
On the evening of Friday Mr. Coppin announced his benefit at
the Theatre under my patronage ; and at the conclusion of the
first piece, the house being full, some people got a glimpse of
me in a private box, whereupon they shouted ' Three cheers for
Mr. G. V. Brooke.' I was obhged to bow from the box, but as
all the house could not see me I was at length compelled to
appear on the stage, led on by Mr. George Coppin."
About nine o'clock on the following evening, Wx. and Mrs.
Brooke and Fanny Cathcart, who were occupying the apartments
lately held by Catherine Hayes the Irish songstress, were
serenaded by the theatre orchestra with some music from
Locke and Bishop, arranged specially in the tragedian's honour.
There were close on two thousand people present, and in answer
to their clamours Brooke and Fanny Cathcart appeared on
the verandah and bowed their acknowledgments. A torchlight
procession then followed.
It is necessary at this juncture to indulge in a little
retrospection. To such an extent had the adventurous and
profligate youth of Great Britain rushed to the goldfields of
Bendigo in l8o2, that by the time of Brooke's arrival in tlie
Colonies the population of New South Wales was fully five times
what it had been a quarter of a century previously. Most of
those rasli spirits who saw fortune in the venture never cared to
return homewards, preferring to settle down in opulence in
the country of their adoption, and to become the progenitors
of a sturdy and independent race. What time the gold fever
vv'as at its height playgoing proved a delightfully free and easy
occupation. No one ever thought of wearing fine clothes. Even
The Doyen of the Australian Stafje. 157
in the most expensive parts of the theatre, cabbage tree hats,
top-boots, red shirts, and cutty pipes were more the rule than
the exception. Utterly unconventional in their habits, the diggers
would occasionally demonstrate their approval of some favourite
performer's exertions by pelting him or her with half-crowns
and nuggets of gold wrapped up in one-pound notes, and thrown
with all the dexterity of a bouquet-lavishing exquisite.
Melbourne in those days could only boast of one theatre,
the old Queen's, situate at the corner of Little Bourke Street
and Queen Street. Originally the property of Mr. John Thomas
Smith, for many years Mayor of the city, the Queen's had an
excellent stock company, prominent among whom were Mr. and
Mrs. Charles Young, the latter better and more prominently
known now as Mrs. Herman Vezin. Mr. George Coppiu, until
recently the doi/en of the Australian stage, had landed at Sydney
in 1843. After a career as actor and manager replete with
vicissitude he built a theatre in Adelaide towards the end of
1846, and soon acquired a large fortune. Subsequently he lost
every penny through speculations in copper mining in connection
with the discovery of gold in Victoria, and after going through
the bankruptcy court made his way as best he could to
Melbourne. He then tried his luck for a fortnight at the
diggings, the only material result being a couple of blistered
hands and a terrible backache. Reverting to his old profession,
he, in 1852, assumed management of the Great Malop Street
Theatre, Geelong, on but slender capital, and prospered
exceedingly ; so much so that in less than two years he had
returned to Adelaide and surprised his creditors by inviting
them to a dinner, at which all his d(;bts were discharged in
full. Sailing for England in January, 1854, he fulfilled several
successful engagements as a starring comedian in London and
the provinces ; and after securing the services of Brooke and
others, returned to the Colonies in the December following.
Brooke on his arrival in ]\Ielbourne was charmed with the
climate and more than delighted with the rough and ready
tone of the people. He noticed that everyone he met had a
158 Gustauust Vaughan Brooke.
self-reliant and well-to-do air, and was inclined to think,
considering the exorbitant prices charged for all liquors {e.g.,
porter half-a-crown a bottle), and the amount of drunkenness
prevailing, that the publicans had struck upon the richest vein
of the precious ore. A digger at this period thought nothing
of spending five pounds a day, and many of the luckier ones
frittered away as much as one hundred pounds a week. There
were known, and by no means rare, cases where men holding
bullion to the value of a thousand pounds made their way
on arrival to the nearest public-house and never sallied forth
until all was exhausted. A dangerous atmosphere this for a
man of Brooke's temperament ! But he had gained wisdom
for the time being by bitter experience, and bad landed in the
Colonies with the firm resolve of banking his money regularly
until his final departure homewards. To his mother, who
knew of this determination, he wrote regularly by every mail
(seldom without enclosing a liandsome remittance), now and
again complaining, half jocularly, that although trade was
somewhat duller than usual everything remained comparatively
dear. Pineapples, ho says, are 8s. Gd. each, oysters, 5s. 6d.
a dozen, and " one cannot get into a cab without making a
considerable hole in a pound." Hence his living expenses
from the beginning averaged fifty pounds per week.
The following bill of the Queen's Theatre, IMelbourne,
heralded Brooke's first appearance on the Colonial stage : —
QUEEN'S THEATRE.
Monday, 26tii February, is.'),j.
First night of the Great Actor, Mr. (j. \. [{rookk, whose extraordinary
powers are universally acknowledged to have no compeer since the days
of the elilcr Kean. In order to render the pieces, in which Mr. Brooke will
perform, complete, the celebrated artistes, Miss Fanny Cathcart and
Mr. Kiciiaru Younge, from the Thkatre Koyal, Drury Lank,
London, have been engaged, in addition to a new and costly Wardrobe
and I'roperties jiurchase<l, with entirely new Scenery.
Mr. Brooke's engagement in the Colonies being limited, the more so
in conseriuence of the long i)rotracted passage of the fcteamer " Pacific,"
he will appear in a round of his great characters, whicli will seldom, if
at all, be repeated.
First Appearance in Melbourne. 159
On Monday will be presented Shakespear's Tragedy,
"Othello,"
witli the following powerful cast: —
Othello, Mr. G. V. Brooke.
lago, Mr. I{. Younge.
Brabantio, Mr. G. IT. liogers.
Cassio, Mr. Burford.
Koderigo, Mr. J. P. Hydes.
Duke, Mr. Hooper.
Desdemona, Miss Fanny f'atlicart.
Emilia, Mrs. C. Young.
To conclude with the very laughable farce,
"A. S. S."
Diogenes Hunter, Mr. G. H. Rogers.
Prices— Boxes, 12s. 6d. ; Pit, 7s. 6d. ; Gallery, 5s.
" In remarking upon Mr. Brooke's Othello," says The Anjm
of the Wednesday following, "faint praise would not be just.
It was a performance such as on leaving our English home
we never expected again to witness. It was the creation of
Shakespere, but an essentially original rendering. It was the
noble presence, the unaffected orator — skilful through very
simplicity ; the stalwart soldier, prepared even to surrender love !
— and what love !— in obedience to the call of the country of
his adoption. It was the confiding, unsuspicious friend, the
devoted husband, the watchful and just governor. And when
goaded on to suspect the fealty of Desdemona— not more by
the hints of lago than by doubt of his own worthiness to
possess such a being — Othello demands palpable proofs of her
incontinence, nothing could have been finer conceived than the
expression thrown into —
'Be sure you prove my love a wanton.'
The fierce Arab blood, excited by the seeming confirmation of
his wife's want of chastity — the deadliest crime in Oriental
morals — gleamed from the eyes of the actor, and scarcely
needed farther language to tell the final catastrophe of the
story. The sacrifice of Desdemona— for sacrifice it is — was
almost too painfully portrayed ; and we suggest upon tlie
160 Gustavus Vaughan Broohe. .
repetition of the tragedy on Wednesday, that its fearful
consummation should take place behind the curtain and out
of sight. Mr. Brooke was gorgeously attired, and although
apparently a severe sufferer from those pests to new arrivals,
— mosquitos — looked in excellent health.
" The tragedy has been well put upon the stage, much of
the scenery being entirely new. At its conclusion, Mr. Brooke
was loudly called for, and that gentleman at length came
before the curtain with Miss Cathcart. When the applause
had somewhat subsided, Mr. Brooke, addressing the audience,
thanked them for their enthusiastic reception, which, he said,
had almost caused him and his companions to forget that they
were so many thousand miles from home. He expressed
himself delighted with the town and all he had seen since
his arrival, and paid a handsome compliment to the. actors
with whom he found himself associated. Mr. Brooke then
retired amidst loud cheering, waving of handkerchiefs, etc."
Subsequently the same paper considered his reading of Hamlet
that of a gentleman and a scholar. " The sublime soliloquies
were given by Mr. Brooke with proper emphasis and spirit, and
the famous advice to the players was, in his hands, the facile
analysis of a highly educated critic. The scene with his mother
was perhaps the finest piece of acting throughout the tragedy,
and it would indeed be difiicult to imagine anything more
perfect tlian the exhibition of terror and awe which proceed
from this splendid actor upon the abrupt entrance of the
Ghost."
In looking over Brooke's colonial correspondence with his
relatives in Dul)liii, it is amusing to note tlie ever-recurring
allusions to the doings of a pet dog which had evidently
enjoyed high favour in llic family circle; so much so that
on one occasion the pampered animal is made to append its
signature to a letter, the tragedian thoughtfully guiding the pen
as held between its claws. "Little Bopy is very Avell and was
quite a lion on board," writes Brooke to his mother, under date
March U. "Last niglit in the first scene of Virginiun the little
First AL'lhourne Seasnt/. 101
rascal got away from Polly [Mrs. Brooke] and ran on tlie
stage to me. He jumped up at my legs and then lay down at
my feet, and when in tlie dialogue with Icilius I liad to cross
the stage he came witli me. Strange enougli I liad to say —
' Well, 'tis true, dog fights with dog, but honesty's not a cur
doth bait his fellow ; and e'en dogs, by habit of companionship,
abide in terms of faith and cordiality.'* The audience did not
laugh, but at the conclusion applauded vehemently. So tliat
you see Pepy has made a successful dehut."
Playing at the Queen's Theatre with increasing favour
until March 23, Brooke ran skilfully over the gamut of his
histrionic scale, appearing from time to time in Othello (3), The
Hunchhach (2), Bichard JTI. (2), The Wife (2), Hamlet (2), The
Stram/er (2), Vm/inms (2), Macbeth (2), Bob Boy (1), Xeic Way
to Pay Old Debts (1), and The Bride of Lammermoor (1).
Irrespective of Fanny Cathcart and Richard Younge (the latter
of whom, as stage manager, instituted many wholesome reforms),
the support accorded throughout was very strong, and indeed
was considerably above the level of wliat would have been
given to a starring tragedian at Drury Lane about the same
period. Particular mention must be made of Mr. G. H. Rogers,
a genial, well-informed artist, then in the enjoyment of great
popularity in ^Melbourne. It is not too much to say, that as an
actor of character parts and old men this gentleman had few,
if any, superiors on the stage of Greater Britain during his epoch.
After a sojourn of nine nights at the Theatre Royal,
Geelong (in the course of which Brooke appeared as Claude
Melnotte and Felix OCallaghan, for the first time in the
Colonies), a return was made by the Melbourne stock company
on Easter Monday, April 9, to the Queen's Theatre, when
William Tell was presented for the first time on local
boards. Robert Heir, the afiianced husband of Fanny Cathcart,
* " Well, 'tis true,
Dog fights with dog, but honesty is not
A cur, that baits his fellow ; and e'en dogs,
By habit of companionship, abide
In terms of faith and cordiality."
M
102 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
who had been delayed somewhat in leaving England, made his
Australian debut on the following evening as Icilius, to the
Virginias of Brooke. The company was further recruited by the
enrolment of Mr. George Coppin, who appeared to much advan-
tage as Launcelot Gobbo, General Dumas, and in a variety of
other important characters. Besides repeating many of his
previous impersonations, Brooke, during this second season,
gave performances of Shylock, Eichelieu, lago, Romeo, Martin
Heywood, Pizarro, and Duke Aranza. The fourth on the list was
certainly injudiciously chosen, his rendering of the love- sick
Montague proving too mature to hit the fancy of The An/us;
but with this solitary exception the tragedian carried both press
and public with him throughout. Taking his benefit on May 4
(the last night of the engagement), he appeared in The Stranger
and His Last Legs, and was honoured with the largest audience
ever seen within the walls of the old theatre. Considering
the size of the house more than the prices of admission, he
was astonished to find the receipts amounting to some £406.
In obedience to a summons before the curtain, after the perfor-
mance, Brooke made a short speech, in which he thanked the
Melbourne public for the patronage that had been bestowed upon
him, adding that after the fulfilment of his Sydney engagement
he hoped for a renewal of their favours at Coppin's new theatre,
of which he had laid the foundation on April 18.
As an average specimen of the many poetical tributes
lavished upon him during his prolonged stay in the Colonies,
we append the following lines, sent to him on his birthday,
while playing in Melbourne : —
TO GUSTAVUS V. BROOKE,
On his Thirt If -seventh Anniversary,
25th A})ril, ISoo.
When tliy binvc namesake* freeM liis native land.
Tearing ita Sceptre from the Danisli hand ;
And He I still ^'reator, who on l.nt/en's field
The cause of Freedom with his life-blood sealed,
• Clnstavua Va.«a— tlm T,iberator of Sweden.
1 (juhtuvu.s Adiil|ilius— the " IJon of the North."
Act i III/ ill Hijihioij. lO.J
Tliey left tliee loftier triumphs yet to liml,
Not over vanquished matter but o'er mind :
To show us Nature, despite pedants' rules,
And the dull jurf^on of Tiieatric sfliools ;
, Wliich all acknowledge thou hast nobly done,
While gazing, eagle like, en Shakespeare's sun,
A bold undazzled, yet adoring one ;
l"'it to exi)0und those superhuman p<ages.
The oracles of pa.st, and future, ages.
'Tis said "The (!ods" upon Olympus late
In conclave sat, to fix the Drama's fate.
When "lie of Avon's" ghost, with aspect grave,
A passing glance at modern actors gave.
Then said — "AVhere's my Othello — where Macbeth?
Such clowns as these inflict a second death."
Apollo smiled, then, with benignant look,
A spark ethereal breathed, which called up Brooke.
Geclong, Victoria. W. E. II.
Crossing over to New South Wales, Brooke opened at tlie
Theatre Royal, Sydney, on May 10, as Othello, personatmg
much the sanie round of characters durmg his lengthened
engagement as had been previously performed in Melbourne.
But on Tuesday the 29th a genuine novelty was afforded in
the shape of lloir;/ IV., cast as follow^s : — Henry IV., Mr. R.
Younge ; Henry Prince of Wales, Mr. Robert Heir ; Prince .John
of Lancaster, Miss .Julia Matthews ; Earl of Westmoreland, j\fr.
Maynard ; Sir Walter Blunt, Mr. Richardson ; Thomas Percy,
Mr. C. Evaus ; Henry Percy, Mr. G. V. Brooke ; Sir John
Falstaff, Mr. Lambert ; Lady Percy, Miss Fanny Cathcart ;
Mrs. Quickly, Mrs. Lambert. Several other novelties followed
in quick succession. On June 4 Brooke played Faulconbridge to
the Iving John of Richard Younge, and seven nights after
produced Howard Payne's Brutus, apparently for the first time
in the Colonies. As if to supplement the many favourable
comments which had been made in the local press on Brooke's
acting, we find a correspondent writing to the Si/dney Murnimj
Herald (June 12) affirming of the tragedian that " to a figure
of fine and manly symmetry he unites a countenance of agree-
able and varying expression and great intelhgence. Besides,
his voice is full and flexible — the tones soft and silvery as those
164: Gustavus Vauyhan Brooke.
of Belial — sometimes reminding one of the voice of O'Connell
in his palmy days of elocLuence ; and all who knew that
remarkable man were sensible that his voice was one of the
principal means by which he achieved oratorical renown. Mr.
Brooke's enunciation is so clear, distinct, and audible, that,
whether • in the whirlwind of a passion ' or in the soft depths
of a pathetic passage, every word reaches the ear and the heart."
After remarking that he had seen the actor in some half-dozen
characters, the writer adds — " Yirginius struck me as the part
most genial to his taste and genius, and from beginning to end
it was a noble and almost perfect performance."
Black-Eyed Susan, with Brooke as William and Fanny
Cathcart in the name-part, came as a welcome relief, on July 7,
to the long succession of blank-verse dramas ; and on the 9th
the tragedian appeared as King Lear for the first time on any
stage. Shakespeare's tragedy was repeated on the 12th, and on
the following night the season terminated with Coppin's benefit,
when Brooke played in the first piece, assuming the character
of Pierce O'Hara in The Irish Attornei/ ; or, Galway Practice in
1770. "His performance," says The Illustrated Si/dneij Journal,
" was a rich piece of acting, and quite equal in merit to his
O'Callaghan in His Last Legs."
In response to an unanimous call from an inconveniently
crowded house, the tragedian appeared before the curtain at the
conclusion of the performance and delivered the following speech
in his usual impressive manner : —
" Ladies and Gentlemen, — With this evening my labours
in this city will cease for some time, if labour it can be termed,
for ' the labour we delight in physics pain.' This is my one
hundred and fifth performance since I arrived in the Colonies,
and I shall need a little quiet and repose till the ;50th instant,
when I shall resume my avocations at ]\Iclbourno. It now
devolves upon nic, in the name of ]\Iiss Cathcart, myself, and
tlic gentlemen who accompany me, to thank you briefly but
sincerely, not only for the patronage but also for the marked
approbation which has attended our efforts during our prolonged
Presentation at Sydneij. 105
stay ; and to assure you that the tangible flattering testimonials
of approval we have received in Sydney shall ever be dearly
remembered and proudly acknowledged. And now, ladies
and gentlemen, indulging in the hope that I may soon have
the pleasure of visiting you again, in the name of Miss
Cathcart, myself, and my confederates, I most respectfully say
' Farewell.' "
Paramount among the " tangible flattering testimonials of
approval" referred to was a highly ornamental silver candelabrum,
standing nearly three feet high, whicli had been presented to the
tragedian towards the close of the engagement. The 11 lust rated
Sijdm'i/ Jdurnal of July 21, 18;j8, in giving a woodcut of this
testimonial, says : — " The stem springs from the pedestal, and is
surmounted by seven branches ; at its root are the full-length
figures, most beautifully wrought, of a Nymph struggling with
a Satyr at the side of a fountain. The whole stands on a
superb plateau, and weighs 270 ozs. It was imported by
Flavelle Brothers, and is the largest ever sent to this colony."
There is just a possibility that this was the piece of plate
originally selected by I\Ir. John Tonks for presentation to the
tragedian on his departure for Australia, subscriptions for which
had hung fire at the outset. But what proportion of the sum
had been contributed by English and what by Australian
admirers, or whether Brooke (as hinted of him by ^Ir. Coleman
in other instances) had eked out the cost from his own pocket,
will probably never be determined.
It was with feelings of genuine regret that Brooke said
good-bye for the time being to his many friends in Sydney. As an
actor his self-esteem had been flattered by their nightly attendance
at the theatre in large numbers at a period when trade was much
depressed through the market being over-stocked with English
goods. In his private capacity, likewise, Society had lionised
him to his heart's content. He had not been more than a
fortnight in the city — whose magnificent harbour, l)y the way,
greatly lessened his admiration for the Cove of Cork — before
he was on easy visiting terms with Sir Charles Nicholson,
166 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
Speaker of the Legislative Council, the Chief Justice, the Judges,
and the Attorney-General. But he was most at home in the
company of the little band of artists who had temporarily united
their fortunes with his own. There was, of course, much
merrymaking over the marriage of Fanny Cathcart to Kobert
Heir, and on Sundays the labours of the week Avould be agreeably
diversified by excursions of a placidly enjoyable nature to Botany
Bay and elsewhere. Under the spells of a genial climate, the
tragedian and his wife found themselves growing somewhat
obese; a state of affairs jokingly alluded to in the "joint-stock
letters " regularly sent home to his brother and sisters in Dublin.
In one of these we have the first serious note of warning in
connection with Brooke's impending rupture with his agent.
Writing on June 1, he says, " Mv. Wilton is in Van Dieman's
Land, managing the Wizard Jacobs, which is a speculation of
Coppin's and mine. It has answered hitherto remarkably well.
I do not like Wilton near me. He is not the man I thought he
was ; and, much to his chagrin, I have sent him to attend to
my interest in another quarter. I had at one time a personal
respect for him, but now have none, and hold no communication
with him but on matters of business." After this expression of
opinion it is not surprising to find Wilton in the course of a
few weeks seceding from the service of Brooke to manage the
afi'airs of the Wallers. Subsequently, however, the tragedian
evidently repented his action, and in writing home on November
24, announces his quondam agent's departure for England in
the following terms: — "Wilton, I I'nul, is nut <i had fcllair dftcr
'ill, but very expensive. He returns by this mail and will no
doubt call to see you. Trent h'nn as of aid, ,t>iil i/iahr the must
of liiiii. He will amuse you with a description of our adventures
in the land of gold."
One of the principal members of the Sydney stock company
at this period was Mr. H. T. Craven, who was afterwards to
develop into a powerful actor of the Hobsonian type, and to
become widely known as the author of 77"' ( '/linnici/ Conirr and
Mill:i/ W/iitr. Trying his liand at this early date at play-writing,
Opini'iiji nf Co])pins Olympic. I(j7
Mr. Craven made a fine aiul very efl'ective adaptation of Schiller's
Fiulihers, which, under the title of I'/ic llmthen, was purchased
by Brooke, a little previous to his departure from Sydney, for
the sum of fifty guineas.
Meanwhile Coppin's new Olympic Theatre, erected at the
corner of Stephen Street and Lonsdale Street, Melbourne, had
been informally opened early in June to permit of the Wizard
Jacobs giving a series of entertainments there. Referring to this
structure, which was afterwards to become familiarly known to
local playgoers as " The Iron Pot," Brooke, in his letter home
of July 20, says — "It is a most beautiful place; fitted up witli
great taste, and will liold tln-ee hundred and fifty pounds."
Then actively preparing for the ensuing theatrical campaign,
he was apparently all at sea as to his future arrangements,
and adds — " You will perhaps be surprised when I tell you
that our stay may be shorter than I anticipated." Ten days
afterwards the Olympic was formally opened for theatrical
performances, on which occasion Brooke spoke the following
address : —
"Kind friends, upon your ]iosi)itable shore,
'Ne.ath Coppin's standard I appear once more.
Here for a brief time is my little world.
Where he his Ha<^ Tlieatric has unfurled.
Cheered by the memory of your past applause
He marches onward in the Drama's cause,
And hopes for that — if not himself— to gain
Still <;reater triumphs in his new campaign.
His forces are a small but chosen troop,
Yet all their powers without your aid must droop.
Amid the thousands who life's battle light
The actor's struggles are not few or light,
And although you find him in your golden land.
E'en there, believe me, he needs a helping hand.
Shall it be said he seeks it here in vain —
That his best eflbrts meet with cold disdain ?
That none look on where art and genius strive
Such scenes as Shakespeare drew to keep alive :
Scenes which alike reline, exalt, engage.
And all but make a puli)it of the stage ?
Oh, no ! where'er beneath your skies I roam
I find to all comes nature's language home,
168 Gustavus VaiigJtan Brooke.
That ever better feeling of my kind
Dwell in each heart — however rough the rind,
And like your gold, though hidden deep from sight,
Wants hut a touch to bring it forth to light.
Fostered bj^ you then may our present field
Fruit, both to actor and to author yield ;
And, spite our iron :>ky and wooden soil,
Prove not in vain our tillage and our toil ; —
Light, moisture, Marmth, that soil must draw from you,
Your smiles its sunshine, and your tears its dew —
Till on these boards the Drama wins its way,
With root too firm to perish or decay.
( >ur space is small, but if, my friemis, you prize
Things by their merits, rather than their size.
And are content to meet us where at least
Two of the muses spread their choicest feast,
NN'e'U dare to hope no rival, far or near.
Will ever tempt you to desert us here."
The original programme, here appended, serves to show the
coustitution of the company : —
COPPIN'S OLYMPIC.
Monday Evening, July 30, 1855.
God Save the (^ueen, - By the Band.
New Act Drop, - - - By :\lr. W. Pitt.
The Opening Address (written by an Admirer of the
Legitimate Drama) will be spoken by
Mk. G. V. Brooke.
The performance will commence with Hulwer's play.
The Lady of Lyons,
]>eauseant, Mr. K. Younge.
Colonel DaiiKis, Mr. G. Coppiii.
• ■I.ivis, Mr. liobert Heir.
Mons. Deschappelles, - - - . Mr. Leslie.
(ia^par, Mr. Bobins
Claude Melnotte, .... Mr. G. V. Brooke.
First Ollicer, Mr. Webster.
Second (Ulicur, Mr. Seyton.
Third Ollicer, Mr. Percy.
Notary, Mr. Lester.
Madame Deschappelles, - - - Mrs. Brougham.
I'aulinc, - - - - - - Miss Fanny Cathcart.
\\ idow Melnotte, ■ • .- - Miss Herbert.
Marian, Mrs. Avins.
Mdhourne. KVJ
To conclude witli a new Farce, called
To Oblige Benson,
Mr. Benson (a barri.sti'r), .... Mr. |;. Younge.
Mr. Trotler Soutlidown (lii.s liiend), - Mi. i\. Coppin.
Mr. John Meredith (a ituidl of Mr. B.'s), .Mr. K. .McCJoweu.
Mrs. Benson, .Mi.ss Herbert.
Mrs. Trotter Southdown, ... - Miss (Jlyndon.
Doors l)\){in at a (^>uartcr lo Seven ; Commence at ilalf-ijast Seven.
Bo.xes, 7s. 6d. ; Stalls, us. ; Pit, 3s.
Subsetiuently, nothing of more than passing note occurred
until August 9, when 'I'ltc Serious Fuinilij was produced with
]>rooke as Captain Murphy Maguirc, and proved so attractive
as to hold its place in the bills for nine successive nights.
Owing probably to this unexpected hit, the star's appearances
in Irish comedy were very frequent during the season. On the
iiOth, The Voidettd, nr The Corsican llialhcrs was brought out
and enjoyed a run of six continuous nights, or eight in all.
This was followed on the 27tli by the production of the Princess's
drama. The Courier of Li/o)is, in which Brooke appeared for the
first time in the dual parts of Lesurques and Dubosc. After
seven performances the novelty gave way to Money, presented on
September 5 with a very powerful cast. Mr. li. Younge's Stout,
Mr. (J. Young's Graves, and Mrs. Y'oung's Clara Douglas, were
all equally admirable in their way. Indeed, so thorough was the
enaeiiililf that the character of Evelyn, as delineated by Brooke,
shone like a diamond of the first water— much the better for its
setting. Commenting upon the production of Love's Sacrifu-c, a
week afterwards, the Aryua says : — " Mr. Brooke, as Matthew,
portrays with exquisite skill the varying emotions of the
conscious homicide, bearing constantly about with him the
remembrance of his crime, seeking to atone for it by heaping
benefits on those whom he has bereft of a father, and
anticipating in the union of his idolised daughter and the
injured son of his foe, the completion of that daughter's happiness
and of his life of atonement. The discovery that he is known
and that his secret will be made public, comes upon him like a
170 Gustai'us Vaughan Brooke.
thunderbolt, and the generous sacrifice which IMargaret (Mrs.
Young) is wilhng to make in order to secure her father led to
a succession of emotions on the part of father and child which
displayed the power of both performers."
Subsequently there were productions of Macbeth, Richelieu,
King John, and Kiiuj Lear, of which the first ran seven nights,
the second and third three, and the last four.
"We have been playing," writes Brooke in a joint-stock
letter to his relatives in Dublin, under date September 28 — "We
have been playing in our Iron Theatre since the 30th of July,
and it is getting on famously. There has been a very fine, large
theatre opened here, which had been built during Mr. Coppin's
absence from the Colonies, and which opened about the same
time ; but we have the lion's share of patronage and support.
Miss Catherine Hayes has returned here from India, and called
to see us yesterday with her mother. She is a remarkably nice
person We are as comfortable as it is possible to be
under the circumstances. We have a detached cottage about a
hundred yards from the theatre, containing six rooms, kitchen,
out-houses, stabling, coach-house, fowl and pigeon-house, with a
very large yard, for which we pay two hundred and fifty pounds
for nine months. Polly amuses herself by breeding ducks,
chickens, and geese, but I am sorry to say she has not been
very well for some time past.
" Fanny Cathcart, a short time after her marriage with Mr.
Heir, was compelled by him to withdraw her services from me,
and has broken her contract, notwithstanding that on her
marriage I increased her income from one hundred a year to
twelve pounds per week. They went immediately to the other
theatre, and as soon as I saw the announcement that she was
to act I procured an injunction to restrain her from so doing.
She acted in defiance of that injunction, and the next day I
obtained an attachment against the persons of Mr. and Mrs.
Heir, but did not allowed it to be served, as they would have
been lodged in gaol for contempt of court. They then, by the
advice of persons connected with the other theatre, endeavoured
TJis Iiisli Jdinitiwj Car. 171
to get tlic injiuicf ion dissolved, l)iit failed in the attempt. The
consequence is that he is engaged ut the other theatre, and
they are obliged to live on his salary; and she cannot act in
the Colonies without my permission till after the fourteenth of
next September. Mr. Heir was not satisfied with the parts we
gave him. He Avanted to play some of the first parts, and got
dissatisfied. He thought that if he could break her engagement
with me, they might go starring about the country. They
have involved themselves in one hundred and fifty pounds
costs, and I believe they will have to return to me at last.
Ingratitude has been exemplified to a very great degree, and I
can never feel the same interest I did as to her welfare. I
wish we had some (jood utility actors out here, but they must
bo ijood. Tliey could get five times the amount that they do at
home George and I watch over and protect the
advancement and interest of our theatre as a parent would
watch his child, and everything has as yet exceeded our
anticipations."
Brooke was probably the first to introduce the Irish jaunting-
car into the Colonies. On leaving home he had given Mr. Grady,
the coachbuilder, of Dawson Street, Dublin, e((rtc hhnichc, to
construct one of these peculiar vehicles and send it out after
him. Many anxious inquiries are made in his letters from time
to time regarding it, and in one we find him enclosing a bill
of exchange for £47 odd to defray the cost. In sooth, a strange
whim !
The new playhouse referred to in the above extracts was
the magnificent Theatre Royal, which Mr, .lohn Black had
erected in Bourke Street. So many attractions were afforded to
local playgoers by the contest between Black and Coppin that
the old Queen's gradually became deserted, and was eventually
turned into a carriage factory.
At the Olympic during November Maihcth was again revived,
with Brooke and Mrs. Waller in the principal parts, our hero
likewise giving several performances of Pierce O'Hara in The
In's/i Jttunu'ii. On December l^t the season terminated with a
172 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
performance of Love's Sacriricc for Brooke's benefit. Delivering
an address, as usual, the tragedian was frequently interrupted by
the deafening applause of the audience, and was saluted on
retiring with a shower of bouquets from the boxes.
Following this came a fortnight's sojourn at Ballarat, which
he describes as " the oldest of the goldtields ; a city of wood
and canvas, with sixty thousand inhabitants." Here the diggers
testified their approval of his performances by presenting him
with four large nuggets, worth about seventy pounds.
On returning to Melbourne he was made the recipient of
a similar mark of esteem from the members of the Olympic
stock company, who, on Saturday, January 2G, 1856, asked his
acceptance of a splendid testimonial, consisting of a figure of
Shakespeare in gold, resting on a volume of his works, supported
by nuggets, the whole standing on a tablet of gold. "In token
of their admiration of his talents as an Artiste, his conduct as
a Gentleman, and his worth as a man"; so ran the somewhat
infelicitous inscription. In connection with the avalanche of
testimonials that now descended upon him it is necessary to
explain that, according to previous arrangements, he was soon to
depart for California. Although never carried into execution,
some time elapsed ere he finally abandoned the project.
When Coppin's Olympic reopened for the second season on
Monday, January 28, several improvements in the arrangements
had been effected, not the least noteworthy of which was the
introduction of gas. Speaking of the performance of Juliua
Ctrstir on that occasion. The An/m says, "Mr. Brooke, who, as
the bills set forth, impersonated the character of Brutus for the
first time on any stage (?) was on his entrance flatteringly
received, and by a very clever reading of the part succeeded in
eliciting the approbation of tlie audience. The interpretation of
this finely-drawn character by Mr. Brooke impressed us with
great satisfaction. With considerable temptation to rant, the
actor carefully eschewed it, and by a judicious management of
voice, gesture, and attitude im])arted to the splendid declamatory
passages a ))roper and niilural eiloct."
Neio Characters. 173
During the season, lasting until April 2G, a few novelties
were agreeably interspersed between the performances of
well-worn plays. Owing to the growing popularity of his
Irish comedy personations, Brooke was constrained to appear in
his old character of Eory 0'i\Iore, and at this period gave his
first performance of Sir Lucius O'Trigger in The lUnih. Much
appreciated likewise were his finely discriminated assumptions of
Hotspur, Jacques, Henry V. ; of Alexander the Great in Nat.
Lee's old tragedy and John Mildmay in Still Waters Uioi Deep.
The mouth of March was marked by the occurrence of two
noteworthy events. Brooke, on the 4th, appeared for the first
time on any stage as Benedick in Much Ado about Xothinrj,
and on Wednesday the 19th was presented at the Olympic with
a gold cup and salver (value 250 guineas) from the playgoers
of Melbourne. Mr. James Smith, a prominent member of the
colonial press, who was deputed to act as spokesman for the
testimonial committee, addressed the tragedian in tlie following
terms, the speech being delivered with a quiet earnestness that
gave the air of sincerity to his words : —
"I have been requested by a number of your friends and
admirers, Mr. Brooke, to present you, in their name, with this
testimonial, not as the measure, but as a mark, of the high
opinion they entertain of your talent, as an actor, and your
worth, as a man. We owe, sir, to your visit to these colonies
not only a renewal of the refined and elevating enjoyments we
have been accustomed to derive from the acted drama, in the
other hemisphere, but tlie foundation — if I may so say- — of a
national theatre in Australia. If some of the Shakespearian
dramas which liave been produced in this theatre with so much
care, mounted with such historical accuracy, and performed with
so much intelligence, have been less successful than they
deserved, you may depend upon it that an explanation of the
circumstance is to be sought in the fact of their being so
entirely new to the colonial stage, and is certainly not owing to
any defect in their interpretation by yourself and the talented
ladies and gentlemen by \\hom you are so ably supported. We
174 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
are anxious, sir, on this occasion to mark our high appreciation
of the wide range and the remarkable versatihty of those powers
which you have brought to bear upon the iUustration of the
British drama. Few of the actors who have ennobled your
profession have exhibited so much versatility, or so great a
fertility of mental resource as yourself. Permit me, in the name
of the subscribers, to offer you this testimonial, and to hope that
you will long continue to delight and instruct us by the display
of those eminent and varied faculties with which nature has
endowed you, and that, whenever circumstances shall recall you
to Europe, this memento may remind you, not inappropriately,
of the golden land at the Antipodes, and of the many warm
friends and earnest admirers whom you will leave behind you
here, and who will always cherish the most agreeable recollections
of your visit to Australia."
Although strongly affected by the tone of the address, and
the ever-recurring applause of the audience, Brooke's practised
self-command stood him in good stead, and enabled him to give
an admirable delivery of the following reply : —
Gentlemen, — If I could put my heart into my tongue, and
could crowd into one word all the emotions which I now feel, it
would relieve tuv of much embarrassment and [inn of the task of
listening to an inadequate expression of my heartfelt thanks.
Gentlemen, an occasion like the present touches me nearly, and
all the more so because it follows an already lengthened
experience of your kindness and applause. To me, as to my
professional brethren, that kindness and applause are beyond all
value ; for you must bear in mind that the actor's reward is
tlie PRESENT ONLY. Whatever distinction the actor may obtain
becomes a tradition merely — when he dies. The glowing canvas
and tlie breathing marble perpetuate the reputation of the
painter and the sculptor. The poet, the musical composer, and
the orator become immortal in their published works. The
fame of the great dranuitist endures to all time; but the
reputation of the actor wlio interprets liis works is as brief and
fugitive as his own \\k\ Wbcn the tongue lies motionless, and
An Eloquent Speech. 175
the plastic features become rigid beneath the touch of death, his
name ceases to be anything more than a tradition ; and therefore,
Gentlemen, we prize still more highly these cheering — these
splendid recognitions of our poor endeavours and our humble
worth. Upon the arduous and chequered path of our professional
life occasions like the present shed a glow of sunshine which
reaches forward even to the evening of our days. "Whenever the
time arrives for me to bid adieu to that stage which it was the
ambition of my youth to tread with honour — which it has been
the pride of my manhood to occupy with credit to myself and
satisfaction to the public, and which will always be identified
with my fondest recollections of the past — I shall be able to
recall to mind no brighter scene or more gratifying remembrance
than that of the present hour. I shall be able, "in the silent
sessions of sweet thoughts," to summon up the images of no
friends whose opinion I prize more warmly— whose generous
appreciation of my humble efforts I value more highly, or in
whose worth I more entirely believe, than those of my warm-
hearted and munificent friends in Australia. I accept, with
pride, this flattering testimonial, and, in conclusion, can only
say, in the language of the poet, we all love and venerate —
" Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are registered where every day I turn
The leaf to read them."
Although kept very busy for some weeks afterwards,
owing to the severe indisposition of Coppin, Brooke still found
time to furnish his Dublin friends with all the news, and
wrote a "joint-stock" letter from Melbourne, on April 20,
stating, inter alia, " I shall finish here next Saturday, the
20th instant, and then proceed on a tour to Geelong, Bendigo,
Hobart Town, Adelaide, and Sydney ; and then I think it is
more than probable we shall return home ria California
and the States. This Melbourne is really an astonishing
place, and though it is only fourteen months suice I landed, its
enlargement and improvement seem to me almost magical."
After remarking that the approach of winter had been heralded
176 Gusfavus Vaughan Brooke.
by extremely wet weather, one surprising feature of which was
that, while it might rain an entire day, on the next the dust
would be blowing in your eyes, he adds, "I have had the good
fortune to meet some exceedingly nice families here. We do not
go much into society, and our associates are few but select. We
are very much in want of actresses out here. Even with mediocre
talent they would make five times as much as actresses can get
at home. I am afraid I have spoiled the colony, for they have
seen plays so well done that they will not be satisfied with
anything that is not bona- fide, respectable, and good."
While at Hobart Town Brooke was much distressed by the
intelhgence that his brother's life was despaired of. The poor
fellow had incurred a severe chill through driving home from
Kingstown regatta in damp clothes, after having been instrumental
in saving the occupant of a capsized boat from a watery grave.
The tragedian had opened a very successful fortnight's engagement
at the Victoria Theatre, on Monday, .June 9, with Othello. Two
days afterwards we find The Tasmanian Daily Xeirs saying : —
" If it be true that 'ars est celare artem,' Mr. Brooke is an artist
indeed. Quiet, easy, self-possessed, natural, the Master Walter
of the poet spoke and moved before the audience. The most
remarkable feature in Mr. Brooke's acting is wh'at is technically
denominated ' bye-play.' In this respect Mr. Brooke has few
equals, probably no superiors. It is not so much what he says,
and the elocution with which he delivers it, as it is the look,
the attitude, the gesture, which convey all that is intended, and
so much that language alone can never impart without such
aid. And yet there is a remarkable absence of stage effect. All
seems spontaneous, unstudied ; the result of who shall say how
deep reflection, and wliat elaborate training? This is the highest
and real triumph of art."
Having now, by unremitting attention to his professional
duties, amassed a handsome fortune (some say .€50,000), Brooke,
in .spite of his woeful expcrieiK-c in America, must needs enter once
more upon the perils and anxieties of theatrical management.
Joining himself in partnership wiili Mr. George Coppin, he
Death of William JJasi'l Brooke. 177
purchasetl, in association witli tliat gentlemen, the lease of the
Theatre Royal, Melbourne, and the freehold of Cremorne Gardens,
Richmond, expending upon these acquirements something like
£100,000. A serious mistake was made at the outset in having
too many irons in the fire. And the best that can be said in
mitigation of the disasters that ensued is, that greater masters
of managerial strategy and finance than Messrs. Brooke and
Coppin have since burnt their fingers in attempting to control a
multiplicity of speculations.
Simultaneously with Brooke's first appearance in Ilobart,
the i\Ielbourne Theatre Royal opened its doors under the new
management with She Stoops to Conquer, aiid a musical
entertainment, to an audience representing £478 15s. Gd. Two
nights afterwards the first grand opera season ever given in the
Colonies was inaugurated, and following this came performances
of English opera. Although an excellent company of vocalists,
musicians, and dancers had been engaged (among whom may be
mentioned Madame Anna Bishop, Madame Caradini, Mrs. Fiddes,
Julia Ilarhmd, Sarali Flower, Mr. Laglaize, Mr. Howson, and
Mr. Walter Sherwin), and despite the fact that ten operas in all,
ranging from Xonini and Der Freischutz to Tlte Bohemian Girl
and Maritcma, were presented, the result was a loss to the
treasury of about £3,000.
Passing through Melbourne on his way to Sydney, Brooke
appeared for one night at the Theatre Royal on July 2, playing
Captain Murphy Maguire to a full house, the receipts amounting
to £531 odd. Of his subsequent doings the following extracts
from a letter home, dated "Melbourne, September 27," give a
satisfactory account : —
" Your letters, containing an account of the death of my
dear brother William, shocked us indeed, though from the tenour
of the last letter previous to the melancholy event I was in some
measure prepared for it. Still we cherished a hope that the
Almighty would have spared him to us ; but the l.onVs iritl be
(lone. I have ever entertained a strong affection for poor William,
and although circumstances attendant on my wandering and
178 Gustavus VaiigJian Brooke.
wayward fate in early life prevented me from showing my love
and affection as my inclination prompted me — I did look forward
in the hope that 1 should have had it in my power one day (not
distant) to have made him, with those that are dear to me, happy
and comfortable, as far as this world is regarded.
"I have now abandoned all idea of visiting California, and
shall return direct to Europe next year. Mr. Coppin and myself
have become the lessees of the Theatre Royal here, which
we have had open for four months successfully. We have
jointly purchased the Cremorne Gardens, about two miles
from Melbourne. It contains ten acres of land, laid out as a
Botanical Garden, and part of it devoted to a collection of
Australian birds and animals. There is a nice house — which
will be used as a hotel — and a large dancing platform, quite
equal to the London Cremorne. We have laid down a gasometer,
and the gardens will be brilliantly illuminated. We have also
built there a theatre for Concerts, Vaudevilles, and Ballet, and
there is a large sheet of water, on one side of which will be an
immense picture representing the City of Naples and the eruption
of Mount Vesuvius, which will be accompanied by enormous
discharges of fireworks.
"We have now the Theatre Royal, the Olympic, Astley's
Amphitheatre, Cremorne Gardens, and four very large hotels all
in full sn-infj — and Cremorne will be shortly. It is a great
speculation, but with every certainty of success.
"With the exception of home thoughts I only think of my
profession and making money, and look forward with anxiety to
returning to Europe. We have lately been to Sydney, where I
opened a new theatre called the Lyceum, and brought full and
fashionable audiences for six weeks. On the 21st of next month
I recommence my tour, visiting Geelong, Hobarton, Ballarat,
Bendigo, Launceston, Adelaide, and Sydney, returning here to
play a farewell engagement. 1 am not certain whether 1
mentioned in any of my former letters tliat Mr. Coppin and
myself are more closely connected tb;ni we were. We are
masonically lirntlu-rs : and we liavo boon since July twelvemonth
Weddhuj JJel/.s. 179
brothers-in-law, he having married Polly's sister. The result is
that on tlie 2Gth of May he was presented with a fine daughter :
indeed, the finest child I ever saw. It is only four months old
and it looks more like thirteen. She is a great pet, and often
serves to afford much amusement to her nunhij.
" 1 have been acting every night that I possibly could, and
do not feel myself at all worse for it. It is wonderful how much*
can be done — if si/stemnticall 1/ .
" My dear Elizabeth has my blessing and so has her
husband elect. We shall remember the 31st of November* and
at half-past eleven at night shall wish them health, happiness,
and prosperity. This epistle is indeed a hurried one, for, as I
said before, 1 have had very little time to myself, and last
night on the occasion of my benefit I played Werner for the
first time. The house was ftiU in every part.'"
In connection with the occasional lapse into the first
person plural in these "joint-stock" letters (as he delighted
in calling them), it may be advisable to point out that in most
cases Mrs. Brooke's signature followed that of her husband,
the whole usually concluding with "Believe us, your affectionate
son and daughter, brother and sister, Gustavus V. Brooke,
Marianne Brooke."
Harking back a little we find that the tragedian had
returned to Melbourne in time for the opening of the regular
dramatic season at the Theatre Royal, reappearing there on
August 25, as Matthew Elmore. With the receipts for some
considerable time averaging three hundred pounds nightly and
the expenses never exceeding four hundred pounds weekly,
Brooke was certainly justified in holding out great hopes of the
success of the venture. Taking only a secondary position in
the management of affairs, it was by no means apparent to him
that money came in at the window and poured out at the door.
Although the tragedian's old repertory continued to prove
an unfailing source of attraction, several praisewortliy attempts
•An extraordinary slip. The date intended to be alluded to was that
on which the marriage actually took place, viz., October 30, 1.S.36.
180 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
were made during the season to wbet the public appetite with
novelty. Owing to the fact that colonial playgoers had not
been educated up to a proper appreciation of the more
unhackneyed plays of Shakespeare, these efforts seldom met
with the measure of success deserved. Hence the management
became prone to fall back on Irish comedy, which, with Brooke
to the fore, invariably drew crowded houses.
On Monday, September 1, the tragedian appeared as Leontes
in The Winters Tale, and on that night week played Leonatus
Posthumus to the Imogen of Fanny Cathcart in the first
production of Cymheline in the Australian colonies. Despite the
novelty afforded the house on the latter occasion was by no
means well filled, the occupants of the dress circle, for instance,
only numbering five-and-twenty. In the judgment of local
critics, however, Brooke made the most of his opportunities,
investing the character with an importance which none but an
accomplished artist could have given it. His delineation of
Posthumus' tardy change from boundless confidence in his wife
to full belief in her infamy ; the bursts of frenzied passion which
followed ; the bitterness of his remorse and self-reproach on
hearing lachimo's confession, and the ecstacy of joy which
thrilled through his being on discovering his unsunned wife in
the "scornful page" — all commanded the attention of the audience
and won for the actor unstinted applause. It was a rare
performance iu more ways than one, for the tragedy was not
seen again on the Melbourne stage until November, 1880.
Commenting upon Brooke's first appearance as Werner, 'ike
Arijm of September 27, says, his " dehneation of the 'soul-sick
and miserable ' nobleman, morbidly sensitive and with a mind
full of sickly fancies, struggling with the toils of fate, a prey to
remorse and an abject believer in destiny, was worthy of the
actor's well-earned reputation. His passionate pleadings with
Ulric in the second scene in the second act, where tlic beggared
father endeavours to extenuate the crime of which he has been
guilty ; the agonising struggles of his mind in the colloquy with
Ulric ill tlie garden : the overwholmiiig anguish which ho
More New (Jlidracters. 181
experiences on discovering who was the murderer of Stralenheini,
were all portrayed with a consummate skill ; and the breathless
silence of a full house during the most interesting scenes, was
the best tribute that could be otrered to the power and ability
of this eminent tragedian." On the 30th, Miuh Ado About
Xothinij was revived, the performance being under the innuediate
patronage of the five election candidates for the city. Brooke
and Mrs. Heir (as Fanny Cathcart was now called) divided the
honours between them as Benedick and Beatrice, and according
to The An/Kfs, "infused as much animation into their auditors,
as into the dialogue, action, and by-play of the piece. Both
performers were so easy, natural, and yet earnest withal
that they carried the audience with them throughout, and it
was interesting to listen to the exclamations which ever and
anon broke forth from the spectators, demonstrative of the pride
felt in their own superior sagacity which enabled them to see
through and chuckle over the plots which Benedick and Beatrice
were incapable of detecting." Efficiently supported by Mr. and
Mrs. Robert Heir, Mr. R. Younge, Mr. Rogers, Mrs. Charles
Young, and Miss Herbert Josephine, Brooke appeared
subsequently in many of his favourite characters, and on
October 14 increased his Hibernian repertory in playing Sir
Patrick O'Plenipo in T/w Irish Ambassador. With the termination
of the engagement on October 18 the tragedian, in conjunction
with the principal members of the stock company, at once left
for Geelong, to commence the tour spoken of in his letter. This
was interrupted, however, by his return to Melbourne on
Thursday, November 20 (a general holiday and race day), when
he played Captain Murphy Maguire at the Royal to the Aminadab
Sleek of Mr. George Coppin. On the following night llichdieu
was performed in commemoration of the opening of the New
Houses of Parliament ; and with Brooke's appearance in The
Stranyer at Castlemaine on Saturday the tour was at once
resumed.
^J ^,//WtL-\--A. '^•~~i£^ ^
CHAPTER X.
Australia. 1 857— 1861.
New Characters in Sydnej^ and Melbourne — Prospero, Gerald Pepper,
Cardinal Wolsey, Colonna, Raphael Duchalet, Sardanapalus, etc. —
Premature "Farewell" Performances — Brooke's Itupture ■with Coppin
— Assumes Entire Control of the Melbourne Koj'al and Produces
Several Novelties without Success — His Letter to Heir — Australian
debut of Miss Avonia Jones — Her Antecedents — A Timorous Lennox
and a Soft-Hearted ]\Iacbeth — The Tragedian Ketums to His Old
Habits and Disappoints Country Audiences — Appears in Melbourne
as Biron, Louis XL, and Sir Bernard Harleigh— Lines on His Lago —
Production of TJie Comedy of Errors— McKean Buchanan Handled
Without (Jloves — Brooke's Distress Publicly Referred to by Coppin —
Genuine Farewell Performances at Last^Departure of the Tragedian
in The Great L'r/^rti/i— Summary of His Work in the Colonies."
OPENING at the Lyceum Theatre, Sydney, on New Year's
Day, 1857, as FeHx O'Callaghan, Brooke contmued to act
there until January 24, when he transferred his services to the
Royal Victoria Theatre, in the same city. In treatmg of his
impersonation of Leontes, at the latter house, the Si/chwi/
Morniny Henihl says it " was graphic, earnest, and picturescpe
— more vigorous, if less refined, than that of Mr. Phelps — a
performance, the period of the age which the play is supposed
to depict, strong, bold, and manly." Subsequently, Brooke
appeared as Hotspur, Posthumus, Sir Lucius O'Trigger, and (on
February 2b) as Jaques in As You Lihc It. Of the last-mentioned
personation The Kinpire says: — "He made him an abstracted
person, contemplative and passive, with a tasto for music and a
contempt for pleasures. His delivery of the speech ' all tlio
world's a stage' was very fine, and we may pronounce it the
most finished specimen we have heard from ]\Ir. Brooke. At
First Ajjpeararice as Prospero. 183
its conclusion the actor was greeted with a round of applause
from the crowded audience."
The most noteworthy feature of tliis engagement, however,
was the production, on March 30, of The Tewpest, in which
Brooke played Prospero for the first time. Owing to the fact
that the principal Sydney journals had taken umbrage at the
showmanlike strategy of the manager of the theatre in devising
a thousand-pound prize lottery scheme on behalf of local
playgoers, no criticism appeared on this or any other of Brooke's
later performances. Nevertheless, the engagement ran its course
prosperously to the end, terminating on April 6.
Seeing that Mr. and Mrs. Robert Heir were in leading
support to the tragedian throughout, and bearing in mind that
the original contract with the actress had expired in the
September previous, it may be assumed that all concerned had
readily patched up their old differences. Writing home from
" St. Kilda House, Wooloomooloo Street, Sydney," on February
9, Brooke again speaks in hopeful strain of the various
entsrprises which Coppin and he are controlling, and
continuing says — " I am sure you will be glad to hear that it
is more than probable we shall, by the end of July, wind up
our affairs in so satisfactory a manner as to enable us to sail
for England about August or September. I have worked very
hard but systematically, and it is indeed a source of great
gratification that every speculation which Coppin and [I] have
entered into has been successful. I am induced to think
that my reappearance at home will cause a great deal of
curiosity."
Deposing Mr. and Mrs. H. P. Craven (who had been
attracting fair audiences, principally in dramas from the actor's
own pen), Brooke, on returning to Melbourne, reappeared at the
Theatre Royal on Easter Monday, April 13, in his old characters
in La Vendetta ; or, The Corsican Brothers. It is noteworthy that
the engagement was announced as "prior to his farewell — for
one month." This statement was evidently made in good faith,
but the nauseous iteration of these leavetakings in process of
184 Gustavus Vau(jliaii Brooke.
time disgusted the public and went towards depriving the
tragedian of much of his hard-earned popularity. On the 21st
and 22nd of the month, Brooke played Othello to the lago of
Mr. Buchanan Eead, who had been tendered these two nights as
complimentary benefits prior to his return to England. So far,
however, from following suit, our hero remained at the Theatre
Royal until December 24, and during his lengthened sojourn was
seen in many important productions. After adding still another
grateful character to his Hibernian repertory — Gerald Pepper, in
The White Horse of the Peppers — he aroused a good deal of
attention by appearing on Monday, July G, as Prospero in a
tasteful production of The Tempest. In treating of the first
performance of Shakespeare's comedy in Victoria, The Anjus
says: — "Well does the grave and finished style of Mr. Brooke's
acting illustrate the conception of the poet. His opening
narrative to Miranda at once gave the tone to the audience,
which listened in hushed attention as if loth to break the spell
of the poetry. Indeed, we observed several times throughout the
evening, that the applause was subdued by the same powerful
spell — it was the genius of Shakespeare exciting its mighty
fascination."
Not the least memorable of the many important productions
of the season was that of Henri/ VIH., on August 31, in which
Brooke appeared as Cardinal Wolsey to Miss Goddard's Queen
Catharine, Heir's Cromwell, and Eichard Younge's Buckingham.
In the course of a long notice testifying incidentally to the
splendour of the mounting and the general all-round excellence
of the players. The Anjus says: — "Mr. Brooke's Cardinal Wolsey
we must rank, in point of excellence, with — though perfectly
distinct from — his Cardinal Richelieu. His elocution and acting
in the second scene of the third act wore literally magnificent,
and called forth repeated and rapturous applause, followed by
his recall before the curtain at its fall. All the complex emotions
by which the Cardinal's mind is actuated in the hour of his
fall — his amazement at the discovery he has made with reference
to the misdirected documents — his grand scorn of the malice of
His Cardinal Widscij. 185
his enemies, his withering contempt, which finds expression in
the words: —
' How much, inetliinks, I could despise this man
But that I'm bound in charity against it !'
And in tlie ironical observation —
. . . . ' If I l.hish
It is to see a nobleman want manners.'
The exquisite pathos of his lamentation of his fallen greatness
— the anguish with which lie exclaims, when told of the King's
marriage to Anne Boleyn —
' There was the weight that pulled me down ! U Cromwell,
Had I but served my God,' etc.,
were exhibited with consummate skill, and combined to produce
one of the most fhiished displays of liistrionic ability which even
Mr. Brooke has favoured us with since his residence in the
colony. To listen to his delivery of the beautiful but hackneyed
passage —
' Farewell ! a long farewell to all my greatness ! '
Would alone repay anyone for a visit to the theatre, and it was
gratifying to observe how great and general was the enjoyment
of the actor's masterly elocution."
Meanwhile Coppin had left for England wiih thu hope of
inducing other stars to visit the Colonies, and the entire control
of the Royal had devolved upon Brooke, who exerted himself
strenuously to maintain the prosperity of the establishment.
Hence novelty after novelty followed in quick succession. In
re^^ewdng the production of Lalor Sheil's tragic play, Kvadne ;
or, the Hall of Statues, on September 7, the Anfiis says: —
" Mr. Brooke's Colonna was in all respects a satisfactory
impersonation. The loyalty which has come by inheritance,
almost a passion, the daring courage which leads him to
impeach the powerful favourite before the whole Court, the
deep and proud affection for his sister, the agonising revulsion of
186 Gustavus Vaugha}i Brooke.
wounded honour on discovering that the monarch for whom he
would have shed his blood is the would-be betrayer of that
sister's innocence, the feeling of lofty revenge which will not
endure that any hand but his own shall slay the tyrant, the
refusal to become his assassin, and again the resolve to be so,
lest his sister should survive him only to encounter disgrace —
all these were depicted with unfailing truth and vigour. Mr.
Brooke's delineations are always portraits boldly drawn and
highly finished, and his Colonna is by no means one of the
least successful of them." Equally fine in its way was the
Evadne of Mrs. Heir. Although the production was received
with acclamation by a crowded house, Sheil's old play
proved too stagey and artificial to take a permanent
place in Brooke's repertory. On the 21st following, the
Adelphi drama of The Marble Heart was brought out with
Mrs. Heir as a satisfactory exponent of Mademoiselle Marco, the
callous woman of the world, to whom the acquirement of
wealth is the sole purpose of existence and in pursuit of
which she stubbornly resists all the promptings of her better
nature. In the eyes of the Melbourne critics, however, Brooke's
Raphael Duchalet, retained all the ineradicable defects which
marked his Romeo and Claude Melnotte. While it was
properly agreed on all hands that the actor's physique was too
mature to enable him to do full justice to the youthful
vehemence of the sculptor's passion, it was just as freely
conceded that the personation was, on the whole, a vigorous
and spirited display of histrionic skill. As a matter of fact,
The Argils records that "the earnestness of feeling which
he infused into his acting, and the vividness with which he
depicted the conflicting emotions by Avhich the unfortunate
sculptor is supposed to be actuated, so strongly enlisted the
sympathies of the spectators that an emphatic ' hear, hear,' and
' that's true ! ' broke fortli occasionally from the pit and gallery
after the delivery of a moral sentiment or the utterance
of some strong argnmciit in favour of natural affection as
opposed to avarice and worldhncss." Seven nights afterwards
His Sardanapalus. IS?
Brooke gave a racy delineation of Connor O'Gorinan in a new
Irish play, called Thr (lion's of llhtnu-ii, bringing down the
Louse in the first act by his vivid relation of tlie incidents
and accidents of a steeplechase. Meanwhile elaborate prepara-
tions were being made for the production of Lord Byron's
tragedy Sardanapalus on a scale of magnificence unprecedented
in the Colonies. In view of the extra attention bestowed upon
the accessories, most of the company apparently approached their
work with unwonted carelessness, the result being that when
the piece was presented on Monday, October 19, the eiisemhle
proved weak and the performance tediously long. However, as
the critics did not spare the rod, considerable improvement was
soon effected ; but the fact that the tragedy had a run of fifteen
successive nights must be attributed purely to its merits as a
spectacle. Beyond the Myrrha of Mrs. Heir hardly a single
character was adequately sustained. Reviewing the production
for the second time, on the 20th, the Arrfiis says: — "Mr.
Brooke's we regard as an entirely erroneous conception of the
character of that Imperial Voluptuary and careless trifler who
perished with his dynasty. There is more of the melancholy
and solemn north than of the brilliant and glowing south in
Mr, Brooke's Sardanapalus. Such a sad, slow, sombre reveller
was not the man to crown himself with flowers, to bask in the
smiles of the beautiful Ionian, and to utter such fervent praises
of the juice of the grape. Mr. R. Younge's Salamenes is still
more ponderous, and from such a preaching, prosy brother-in-law
it was very natural that the King should take refuge in suicide.
The best portions of the play are those in which Mr. Brooke
relates the dream and in which his dormant courage awakens
into fiery life." The production was probably based to some
extent on Charles Kean's celebrated revival of Byron's tragedy
at the Princess's Theatre in June, 1853. This Brooke may
have seen immediately on his return from America, but even
in that case, and admitting his propensity for reproducing
Kean's successes in the Colonies, his repugnance to the
excessive display of scenic archfeology, in which the other
18<S Gustavus Vaiujlian Brooke.
delighted, must have forbade any servile copying of the English
production.
Beyond Brooke's first appearance as M' Shane, in The
Nervuus Man, on November 7, for Mdlle. Miska Hanser's benefit,
nothing occurred of more than passing importance after the run
of Sardanapalus until his last appearance on Christmas Eve.
Eesting on his oars, our hero elected to appear during the latter
part of his sojourn in a round of old characters which, to the
motley Melbourne public of the time, proved quite as attractive
as the more pretentious productions of the season. Writing
home from " Cremorne Gardens, Kichmond," on November 16,
we find him saying of Coppin — "1 expect him out by the
next (December) mail. He has been making very extensive
arrangements for our next campaign, and in a short time after
his return we shall start for England. Since he left I have had
my hands full in conducting our joint properties — the Theatre
Royal, the Olympic Theatre, and Cremorne Gardens, . . . and
the latter I am very busily engaged with, as we open for the
summer on Monday next, November 23rd. 1 like this place
amazingly, but, come what will, we must have a fireside muster
(God willing)."
Repairing to Ballarat with the opening of the new year,
Brooke laid the foundation stone of a new theatre on January
20, 1858, and apparently remaiiied there in the exercise
of his profession for some little time. Towards the end of
February he was rather surprised to learn that, much to tlie
consternation of his friends, an extraordinary telegram had
appeared in the MtlLuurne Ercnhuj Mail giving a detailed account
of his supposed illness, and concluding with the intimation of liis
death. To this he made the best of all denials by returning to
to the Theatre Royal on March 1, to give six farewell perform-
ances in his old Shakespearian characters, and was naturally
accorded a tremendous reception on eflccting his reappearance.
In announcing Hirhard III. for Saturday night the newspaper
advertisement ran — " Positively the last of the greatest tragedian
ill the world, fully confident thai it will be many years, if
A Bush Time. 180
over, the colonists have a similar opportunity of witnessing the
works of Shakespeare illustrated by so celebrated an artist."
In spite of this statement, Brooke appeared througliout tlie
following week in a round of exclusively Irish characters, and
remained at the theatre until the 23rd of the month, when he
took his " Farewell Benefit," and made his " last appearance in
Melbourne " as ^Matthew Elmore. Placing implicit reliance in
the good faith of the managerial announcement the local public
crammed the theatre to suffocation, recalling the tragedian,
with immense enthusiasm, several times during the evening,
and listening with every token of sympathetic affection to the
touching speech in which ho said "Good-bye." Poor Brooke!
He little knew it was only au re voir after all, and that many
darker days and drearier wore to pass ere that sad little word
should be said in reality.
In the course of a "joint-stock" letter sent by the tragedian
to his mother and sisters on June 9 from " Ilobarton,
Tasmania," we find him writing: —
" I have no doubt that you have wondered at not having heard
from me long before this, but Mr. Coppin's visit to England and
his protracted return, caused by the irregularity of the mails (he
having been delayed in Egypt six weeks) placed me in the position
of an Atlas, having had the Theatre Royal, Argyle Rooms, and
Cremorne Gardens to look after in Melbourne, and the Theatre
Royal, Geelong. So that, independent of my professional duties, I
have had, thank God, a good share of wholesome mental and
physical labour. But now since his return I have yielded up
the managerial reins, and am, as you may perceive, pursuing
my professional avocations and taking my farewell tour
The Governor patronised me a few weeks ago at Launceston,
laughing at Felix O'-Callaghan till his sides were sore, and I
have this morning received a note from him requesting me to
play Sir Giles Over-reach on Wednesday next. From this
place I shall go to Sydney for a short time, from thence to
Adelaide in South Australia, and then sail from Melbourne for
England, ho I
190 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
•' I am sorry to say that poor Coppin has since his return
lost a dear httle girl, the most delightful and interesting child
I ever saw or knew, and the admiration and wonder of all that
looked on her. It was a sad blow to us all, but more
particularly to him, poor fellow. I felt it sorely, too, for during
his absence I supplied the place of a father to her, and she
was attached to me as much as a child could possibly be. 80
much so that on George's return she would not leave me to go
to her father for a week or so. She was only twenty-two
months old.
"It is probable you may not recognise me when you see me,
as I have grown a tremendously big fellow. Polly is also getting
stout and preparing herself for Fat and Forty which, with the
addition of Fair, I was on the 25 of April last."
Supported by Mr. Henry Edwards and Mrs. Poole, Brooke
opened his Sydney engagement at the Prince of Wales's Theatre
"under the management of Mr. Charles Poole, of the Theatre
Royal, Melbourne," on July 19, as Othello. With the exception
of a couple of nights towards the end of the season (when a
physician's certificate was pubhshed testifying that the tragedian
was incapacitated by a severe attack of influenza) he performed
there continuously until October 21, on which occasion he took
his benefit, playing Edgar Mordaunt in TJir Fatririan's Faughter,
and Paddy O'Kafferty in the farce Horn to Good Luck. It was
a niglit of unbounded enthusiasm and good fellowship. A great
treat had been anticipated ; eager crowds of playgoers jostled round
the doors for hours before the advertised hour of performance ;
and for once in a way the mountain brought forth sometlhng
more formidable than a mouse. In a brief speech, made
during the evening, P>rooke regretted that the state of his health
demanded immediate rest, but assured them, amid hearty cheers,
that a few weeks would see him back again in their midst.
Althougli his appearances during the season liiul been for tlio
most pari in liis old repertory, a few new characters were
occasionally presented. Of th(se llic most noteworthy were
Zaiiga in 'Hu- llcnngc, Paddy O'Uonovan in llio one-act comic
Danger Ahead! 191
drama Paddy the Piper, and Major O'Dogherty in Tyrone Power's
drama St. Patrick's Eve; or, The Order of the Day.
On November 12, Brooke reappeared as Captain Murphy
Maguire, for one night only, at the Melbourne Theatre Royal
in graceful acquiescence (if playhouse advertisements are to be
relied upon) to a requisition signed by a number of local
gentlemen immediately on learning that the tragedian purposed
paying a flying visit to the metropolis. This announcement was
soon capped by another, setting forth that owing to the Wonya-
Wnnya having been despatched with mails to New Zealand, thus
upsetting the arrangements made for Brooke's departure, he
would continue to appear until the end of the week. Giving his
last performance on Saturday the 20th, as Tim Moor in The Irish
Lion — a piece new to Melbourne — he was to have sailed for
England on the following Monday. But despite liis seeming
anxiety for "a fireside muster" in Dublin he still procrastinated,
and by December 4 had made his reappearance at the Prince
of Wales's Theatre, Sydney. Wisely abstaining from performing
there more than four nights a week, he brought his engagement
to a close on the 22nd, and returned shortly afterwards to
Melbourne.
Paramount among tlie things which contributed to detain
Brooke in the Colonies at this period was the difficulty
experienced in arriving at a definite settlement with his partner
in regard to tlie disposal of their joint properties, a moiety of
which had absorbed all the profits derived from the remainder.
Confronted suddenly witli the appalling fact that the bulk of
his hard-earned money had been swallowed up in these hare-
brained enterprises, is it to be wondered at that the hapless
tragedian returned like a dog to his vomit, and became from
this time forward practically a lost man.
On January 26, 1859 — or two days after Coppin had set
Melbourne all agog by advertising for tenders for the purchase
or lease of the Theatre Royal, Olympic Theatre, and Cremorne
Gardens — Brooke reappeared at the first-mentioned house as
Othello, supported by Mr. and ]\Irs. Ivobert Heir, Mrs. Mortyn,
192 Gustavus Vaur/han Brooke.
and the regular stock company. He played there uninterruptedly
in King Lear, The Tempest, and other old pieces until Monday,
February 21, when The Argus announced that in consequence of
his indisposition the part of Richard HI. would be taken by
Mr. R. Younge. On the Saturday following the rumoured
dissolution of partnership, which had formed the chief topic
of public conversation for some weeks previous, became an
accomplished fact. To marlc the occasion Coppin gave a
farewell address, and Brooke appeared as Duke Aranza in The
Honeymoon.
Assuming entire and undisputed control of the Theatre Royal,
our hero at once installed Mr. R. Younge in the position of
managing director, and inaugurated his reign on Monday, February
28, by introducing Hudson, the celebrated Irish comedian, to
the notice of the Melbourne public. As usual with Brooke,
however, one difficulty was no sooner surmounted than another
cropped up. Taking advantage of his absence on a starring tour
in the provinces, certain persons holding responsible positions
under his command had contrived a nice little plot to rob him
of the profits of the theatre. But a fiood of light was let in
upon their movements shortly before the termination of the
season, on May 30, by the timely arrival of an anonymous letter,
which is still preserved, strange to say, among the family papers.
Opening the new season on Thursday, June 2, with ]\lr. R. Heir
as acting-manager, l^rooke, previous to the singing of the
National Anthem by the entire company, made a long and manly
speech, in which he alluded to "the gloomy subject" of his
quarrels, and dwelt with eloquence on "the wearisome history
of injuries received by me at tlie hands of persons who, during
my unavoidable absence from Melbourne, abused a trust unhesi-
tatingly reposed in them, and bartered the interests of their
employer for prospective and shadowy gain." In concluding,
he spoke with emphasis of the drastic changes he hoped to
effect in tlie managemciit of the theatre, and trusted before
long to " entomb the mehmclioly past." Four nights after-
wards ho played X'alcntine to llie Proteus of Hohovt Heir in
His Dispute with Coppiii. 193
The Tiro Gentlemen of Veronn : his first appearance in the
part, and the first performance of Shakespeare's comedy in the
Colonies.
Writing home to Dubhn in a "joint-stock" letter on June
IG, Brooke says, " I am afraid that you have been very uneasy
about us of late, but I have had a great deal to do and a very
difficult game to play. Coppiu did not behave well to us ; but,
thank Heaven, I have got the best of it, and have taken
possession of my property, the Theatre Royal and Royal Hotel,
valued at £30,000. I have got the Public with me, and shall,
I trust, do very well. We are both of us, thank God, in liealth,
and I shall, I think, make my arrangements to leave for home
by the March mail."
On Monday the 27th an elaborate production was effected
of the great Egyptian spectacular drama, Azael the Prodigal,
in which Brooke as Reuben, chief of the Israelite tribe,
" fulfilled," according to the Argus, " the conditions of such a
character accurately and poetically." Efficient support was
rendered by Mr. and Mrs. Heir as Azael and Jephthele
respectively. Founded on MM. Scribe and Auber's VEnfant
Proiligue, this piece had originally seen the light at Drury Lane
on February 19, 1851, Messrs. Vandenhoflf and Anderson and
Miss Fanny Vining representing the above-mentioned characters
in the order named.
Azael was withdrawn, after proving a somewhat qualified
success, on July G. Six nights afterwards Brooke sustained the
part of Colonel Buckethorne in Boucicault's comedy. Lore in n
Maze, which aroused little or no critical attention, although
a production entirely new to the Colonies. Acting continuously
at the Royal until August 19, the tragedian on the 15th of the
previous month appeared as the Ghost to Heir's Hamlet, giving
on the 25th his first performance of Coriolanus, which proved
so acceptable that the play ran eight nights. Some idea of the
spell of ill-luck which had attended Brooke ever since he
assumed entire control of the Theatre Royal may be formed
from the following interesting letter : —
194 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
Melbourne, August 26th, 1859.
My Dear Heir,
I have up to this date lost by the Theatre Royal, since
our opening of the present season, one thousand three hundred pounds,
independent of my own time and services, and consider necessary to
retrench in every department, in order to regain my losses. I wish you,
therefore, to put your shoulder to the wheel, and see that no time shall
be lost in making such alteration in the working of the Theatre as may
be deemed necessary. In the first place, tlie carpenters must be lessened,
not only in numbers but in amount of salary. In the next place, you
do not require more than two male supers on the establishment, and we
have ladies enough in the English engagement bound to make themselves
useful. Thirdly, I think it necessary to take time by the forelock, and
when a piece has a run for two or three or more nights let it not
interfere with daily rehearsal, as there should be always two or three
in case of any emergency. I think it absolutely indispensable to play
strong dramas on both Monday and Saturday, and good Comedy in the
centre of the week, and the other nights some kind of a light Comedy,
backed up by broad farce. There is one thing that is a great point—
that is, that the orchestra should be rung in [to] commence ten minutes
before, or more, according to the length of the overture or musical
selection, so that the curtain may go up precisely at the half hour ; and
the delay should not be more than ten minutes between the acts, except
in cases of emergency. By this means the audience are not wearied,
and there is a great saving in the (!as, the management of which should
be well attended to by turning it of!' behind when the curtain is down,
and before when it is up, and not consuming light in the back borders
when not required. And now I want you to look through the present
company, with the exception of Lambert and llarwood, and see who can
be dispensed with, or who retained, n])on [a slight] reduction of salaries.
The stage clearers must in all cases (excei)t modern pieces) go on as
supers when required, and I expect that everybody in the Theatre as
servants as well may by their services show that they have an interest
in the establishment to which they belong.
As I shall not have much time to spare, I wish you would think
well over this matter and put your views regarding it on paper. There
is one tiling of great importance— that [is] the i)rinting and, above all,
the jwsting, which has of late been shamefully attended to. And I
think the services of such a man as Mr. Younghusband no longer
necessary. I would wish all bills of tradesmen and extras for the theatre
should be in on Saturday for your inspection, to be paid if approved of
on the Tuesday following ; and by this means there can be no confusion.
I would not allow one connected with the Tlieatre IJoyal to obtain
anything from any tradesman without an express order from the manager,
as of late things have been ordered regardless of expense. Timmins
must pay G ])oum(1s for the privileges he has in the front of the house, or
give them up. There is aiiotlior tiling to insist upon— fines being strictly
exacte<l in cases of people being inijierfect, sullicient time having been
allowed according to length or importance of part, or any other breach
of the rules and regulations of the Theatre.
Loiujiittj for Home, 195
I daresay there are some other thin;;.s I couhl sugf,'e9t, but cannot at
present do ; but shall from time to time do so 1)y letter. Rut let me
imi)ress upon you-enforce economy and punctuality. Excuse the
manner in which this is written. I 2)en it as it occurs to my mind. Tiiink
over it well, like a go.jd fellow, wei-,'h the importance of it, and act upon
it as forcibly and nearly as you can.
Yours, dear Heir,
Very truly,
G. V. HuooKi:.*
Hoping against hope, he strove manfully to keep the bad news
from the loved ones in Ireland, and never dreamt of making
his heavy losses an excuse for omitting to forward the usual
handsome allowance to his mother. Looking forward with deeper
and deeper longing to that "fireside muster" in the old country,
and yet finding himself utterly incapable of saying good-bye to
his loyal-hearted friends in the new, we find him penning a
brief note, in a very shaky hand, on xVugust 17, enclosing the
customary bill of exchange and stating that he may be expected
homo in the yuhia, sailing from Melbourne on October 17
With the opening of that month, however, we find him acting
again at the Royal, and seemingly entertaining no idea of an
immediate return to England. On the 8th he played Rob Roy
to the Bailie Nicol Jarvie of Mungall, the Scotch comedian, and
for many nights afterwards was to be seen — when not interfered
with by the operatic performances— in a round of his favourite
characters. Beyond the production of the Rev. James White's
historical play. Feudal Times on W^ednesday the 2Gth (before
the Governor of the Colony and a brilliant assemblage), nothing
occurred at this period worthy of particular mention. Renewing
his acquaintance with his old part of Walter Cochrane, as first
sustained in the Manchester stock days, Brooke thrilled the
vast audience by the impressiveness and power of his acting.
The King of ^h. Henry Edwards and the Angus and Margaret
Randolph of Mr. and Mrs. Heir were all equally admirable iu
* Transcribed from a double sheet of commercial foolscap bearing
endorsement " LJ. V. B. to Mr. Heir abt. ■Management of Theatre, 9,59,"
found among a mass of correspondence kindly furnished by Mrs. Heatly,
the tragedian's sister. Unmistakably holographic, the document evidently
forms the rough draft of the letter ultimately forwarded.
196 Gastavus Vaughan Brooke.
their way and contributed materially to the success of the
performance.
We have now arrived at the period when an event took
place in Melbourne having important bearing on the brief span
of existence remaining to our hero. This was the Australian
debut at the Princess's Theatre, Spring Gardens, on Monday,
October 31, of Miss Avonia Jones as Medea. Born at Richmond,
Virginia, on July 12, 1839,* this promising young actress was
the daughter of George Jones, the American tragedian, who,
after having tasted the sweets of success at the Bowery Theatre
New York, during the 'thirties, elected to figure in his later
days as the eccentric Count Johannes, and in that odd capacity
was amusingly caricatured by Sothern in The Crushed Trar/edian.
Possessing much force of character, Jones, on a certain
anniversary of Shakespeare's birthday, is reputed to have
delivered a remarkable oration at Stratford - on - x\von, and
to this circumstance his daughter is said to have owed her
melodious baptismal name. His wife, Mrs. Melinda Jones, who
accompanied Avonia, as we shall see, on her travels, had also
enjoyed great popularity on the stage in her time.
With the termination of his sojourn at the Royal, Brooke,
according to a paragraph in the Melbourne Leader, appears
to have journeyed to Bendigo to give there (on Monday,
November 7) " his farewell performance before his departure
for England." On the 19th following, Avonia Jones concluded
her engagement at the Princess's Theatre with performances of
Medea and Katharine ; the latter to the Petruchio of Mr. Henry
Edwards. On December a complimentary benefit was
tendered to Brooke at the Theatre Royal on the occasion of
bis resigning the reins of management into the hands of Harry
Edwards and George Fawcett [Rowe] . 'J'he Serious Familij was
in the bill, Captain ^Inrpliy ^laguire having his usual
* As lier natal year lias soiiietiinea been given as IS.'JG, it may be
a.s well to point out that tlie actress, in a speccli on lier benelit nij^'lit
(November 19), gave tlie exact date as here recorded, mentioning as
her autliority tlie baptismal entry in tlie registers of Trinity Church,
Iticliiiion'l, \'a.
''Rush the Boxes, Boys!'' l'J7
representative. Deposing the popular comedian Harry Jackson,*
who, after the secession of Avonia Jones, had been starring
at the Spring Street house, Brooke entered upon a twelve
nights' engagement at the Princess's Theatre on the 2Gtli,
and, efficiently supported by Miss Herbert, appeared in a round
of well-worn characters. An old Colonial, at present residing
in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, recalls to mind a fearfully hot night
during this engagement when Marhctli was in the bill, and the
pit so full that someone called out, " Rush the boxes, boys,"
and saw his suggestion at once put into practice. The
incursion appears to have been easy of accomplishment, as by
standing on the back bench the pittite could vault over into the
boxes without any trouble. i\Iuch confusion ensued, bringing
the play to a temporary standstill ; but in a free-and-easy
community such episodes were of too frequent occurrence to
create any save the most transient excitement.
By way of illustrating that fine trait of large-heartedness
which made Brooke so popular among his fellow-actors, Mr. W.
G. Carey, a well known Australian tragedian, has put on record
a slight personal experience, which evidently belongs to this
period. Only a boy at the time, and the veriest tyro at that,
he was cast as Lennox to the Macbeth of Brooke ; and his
juxtaposition with the star intensified the nervousness already
evoked by an impression of the relative importance of the
character. Actors can appreciate the difficulties presented by
that particularly cranky speech commencing " The night has
been unruly.'' In a condition of "funk" bordering on collapse,
the novice essayed to speak his lines, with the great actor
standing majestically by his side — proceeded gingerly as far as
" dire combustion," and there stuck, thinking it was " dire
combustion " indeed. At once a gentle whisper reached him
from Macbeth, " Don't be afraid, my boy ; it's all right. Go
on! 'And confused events' — " Taking the word, the heart-
touching kindness of Brooke dispelled his nervousness, and
* Identified in later days as a prominent member of tlie Drury Lane
company, under the Harris rcfjimc.
198 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
enabled him to finish bis part without a tremor. With the
conclusion of the act, he lost no time in thanking the tragedian,
indulging in a gash of warm but respectful gratitude, such as
only a novice could feel and give expression to. " You were
nervous, my boy," replied Brooke, making light of the service
rendered ; " never mind that. Take this as consolation. I never
knew an actor worth his salt who ever entirely conquered the
feeling."
Shortly after the conclusion of Brooke's engagement at the
Princess's, he reappeared there for one night only (on January
14, 18G0) as lago, to the Othello and Desdemona of Mr. and
Mrs. Clarence Holt, and then proceeded on a barn-storming
expedition in the country. Ominous paragraphs now began to
crop up in the papers, showing only too plainly that the distress
of mind occasioned by repeated misfortune had driven him back
on his old habits of dissipation. Says the Melbourne Leader of
February 4 : — "Mr G. V. Brooke has been getting into disgrace
again in the country. The Mount Alexander Mail says neither
public nor managers will much longer tolerate his eccentricities."
Single performances followed at Lamplough and Beechworth ;
and on the 25th The Leader had another paragraph setting forth
that "Mr. G. V. Brooke has now disappointed the Chiltern
people, who expected to have had him on the boards of
their theatre on Monday. Mr. Brooke seems to be very
unfortunate in regard to his provincial engagements." But
the annoyance experienced by country playgoers through the
vagaries of the star were as nothing to the discomforts undergone
by the little band of players who accompanied him on his
travels through the minor towns of Victoria. Mr. W. G. Carey
relates that when Lambert, Mr. and Mrs. Younge, Avonia
Jones, the tragedian, and himself arrived at a place called
Tarrangower in the old days, they discovered that, in all
likelihood, they should liavc to dispense with the services of
the orchestra. Certainly there was a pianoforte — but who
was to play it? Then someone found out tliat the village
blacksmith was the proud possessor of a violin, but lacked the
Wanted an Orchestra! 199
necessary skill to make it "discourse most eloquent music."
This extorted the confession from Avonia Jones that she
could play the piano a little, and, at all events, could " vamp"
satisfactorily, if someone could only be procured to play the
fiddle. Not to be behindhand, young Carey volunteered to rub
"the hair of the horse over the bowels of the cat," and the
pair constituted themselves the orchestra. The play was The
LdiJil of Tjjou!^, with Avonia .Jones as Pauline, and the tyro as
Gaspar. Having to go on the stage with the opening of the
first scene, the actress enveloped herself in a cloak before taking
her seat at the piano. But Carey had plenty of time to change,
and so appeared in prupriti pcmiua with the local Vulcan's fiddle
under his arm. " They were not musically fastidious," writes
our informant, "or I think that, besides j)laying the audience in,
we should have played them out again. Without bothering
about the overture to Xainpa, or any trifles of that sort, we
gave them selections from popular airs between the acts, until we
came to the fourth, when a difficulty presented itself. Pauline
could not be expected to usurp the prerogative of Sir Boyle
Roche's bird, and be on the stage and at the piano at the same
time. But as no properly-constituted Claude Melnotte would
think of attempting to pile on the agony without the soul-
stirring strains of the Marseillaise, the predicament was an
awkward one." There was nothing for it but that Carey and
the fiddle should represent the entire orchestra behind the scenes,
and play the air as best he could. There were other ludicrous
incidents, arising for the most part out of the diminutive size
of the stage, which would have rufiled the equanimity of
most "eminent" tragedians. But no one in the company enjoyed
the humour of the whole affair better than poor Brooke, who
used to relate with great unction how his cocked hat and
feathers bade fair to effect a serious disarrangement of the sky-
borders when the battle-scarred Claude strode forth on the
boards.
Reappearing at the Theatre Royal, Melbourne, on April 9,
for the Easter holidays, Brooke played Biron in the first
200 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
colonial production of Love's Labour Lost, giving a personation
wliich, according to The An/us, " had fine touches in it here
and there — in the occasional gusts of humour and in the
soliloquy on Love, for instance ; but he was evidently struggling
with many difficulties." Although the ensemble was bad — the
Costard of Harry Jackson being as pronounced in its merits as
the Armado of George Fawcett was defective — the comedy held
its place in the bills until the 14th. Followed by repre-
sentations of trite pieces, Lore's Labour Lost was revived for
one night on the 20th ; and on the 24th Brooke appeared for
the first time in his powerful impersonation of Louis XL in
Boucicault's well-known drama. In the course of an enthusiastic
notice of the production T/te Anjus says : — " The portrait of the
subtle tyrant of Plessis, the master of Triston L'Hermite
and Oliver le Daim, whose character is so well known to
every reader of Quentin Diira-tird, is literally drawn to the
Hfe by Mr. Brooke, who by this impersonation has given
to the public a dramatic creation which will rank with
his Sir Giles Over-reach, his Richelieu, or even with his
Othello. Every lover of high dramatic art, everyone who lays
claim to taste or judgment in such matters, will accord deserved
praise to the artist who alone in these Colonies, and possibly on
the European stage, could produce so masterly a picture. From
first to last the living (and yet dying; Louis is before the eyes
of the audience. The make-up is perfection, and the face of
the artist wears that grim and fearful expression — a mixture of
terror, sufiering, and cruelty — which, we may imagine, belonged
to the real monarch. At the end of the third act Mi\ Brooke
was loudly called for and vociferously applauded." It is
interesting to note that Harry Edwards, who was the Nemours
of the production, retained vivid recollections of the tragedian's
impressiveness in this trying character up to the period of his
recent death in America. Other parts were efficiently sustained
by Harwood, Harry Jackson, Julia Matthews, and Mrs. Charles
Poole, in a word, the piece proved an uii(|ualificd success, and,
with the exception of a benefit niglit, held its place in the bills
7//.S Louis XL 201
until May 8. If not " the most magnificent creation ever
represented " (to quote from the Melbourne advertisements),
Brooke's Louis XI. was certainly the most finished of his latter-
day personations ; and it affords matter for regret that he was
seldom, if ever, seen in the character after iiis departure from
tlie Colonies.
Succeeding John Drew, the American comedian, who had
been starring at the Royal in the interim, Brooke re-opened
there on June 5, in his grim exposition of the idiosyncrasies of
the old French monarch; and on the 9th played lago, " for
that night only," to the Otliello of Clarence Holt.
A couple of days afterwards he received a copy of the
following lines from an anonymous admirer : —
ON SEEING MR. G. V. BROOKE AS lAGO.
When tlie great Poet-king the world looked through,
To find the fathom of tlie brain ; — to guage
The inmost depths of mind in youth or age,
Itipe manhood or fair woman,— he ne'er knew,
Nor e'en could dream of a perception true.
True as his own, of the deep craft of man
Shewn in lago ! could his spirit scan
This after-time of energy and thought
'Twould light on Brooke, as one his truth had caught.
The subtle tempting, the observant look,
The plausible hypocrisy', tiie pride
Of jealous temper, the delusive guide
To wrong and cruelty, all found in Brooke
A real image. lago never .shook
From his fell purpose ; never did let fall
One word of pity, but contempt for all
The means of his revenge ; nor Brooke did he
Let fall one atom of consistency.
Occasionally during the season the theatre advertisements
would blossom forth with " Positively Mr. Brooke's last
appearance," but playgoers, so far from being "frighted with
false fire," had grown quite accustomed to these mendacious
declarations, and viewed them with an apathy born of bitter
experience. On Saturday, June IG, The Slave was revived
and performed, with Brooke as Gambia, until the 21st, when
he appeared for the first time as Sir Bernard Harleigh in
202 Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
Palgrave Simpson's drama, Dreams of Delusion, the occasion
being Harry Edwards' benefit. Speaking of the extraordinary
hit made by our hero in his new character, the Arf/iis says : —
" The r(3le is, in brief, that of a talented and excellent man,
who, married to a wife his junior, but in every way worthy of
him, is a prey to a baseless jealousy, of cause for which he
believes he has such clear proof that he attacks and, as he
imagines, murders the man who has wronged him. His
subsequent life is a remorse so keen that it ultimately disorders
his fine intellect, and he falls into the sad calamity of imagining
that his wife herself is mad. From this mania he is rescued
by the skill of a physician and restored to happiness. The man
whom he believes he has murdered, of course, lives, and a
powerful dramatic situation is secured by the recognition of the
two. It would be difficult to speak too highly of Mr. Brooke's
delineation of character. The make-up, the by-play, the whole
action are startlingly accurate, and more than once last night a
thrill of suppressed emotion passed through the house, so
terrible, so lifelike was it. Repeated rounds of applause testified
the appreciation of the audience. The piece is in one act only,
and it is probable that everyone in Melbourne who can will see
it, so that no more need be said." It enjoyed no sort of run,
however, and was only repeated once or twice during the season.
Next evening Brooke played Sir Lucius to the Bob Acres of
John Drew (who was about to depart from the Colonies), and
appeared for some little time subsequently in a pleasing variety
of his old characters. On Monday, August G — last night but
four of the season — a decided novelty was afibrded in the first
production in Australia of The Comeihj of Krrors, powerfully cast,
with Brooke and Harry Edwards as the two Antipholi, and
Sefton and Harry Jackson as the Dromios. In the course
of a long and very appreciative notice of the play tlie Anfus
says : — *' Mr. Brooke was throughout ' i' the vein ' — gentle,
proud, loving, and honourable, as Antipholus of Syracuse
should be. His fniislied acting would have at once decided
the success of the evening, oven if other elements had been
Broohe and M^Kean Buchanan. 203
wanting." Cheers greeted tlie announcement by Mr, Edwards
at the close of tlie performance that the piece would be
repeated on the three remaining nights of the season.
After Drooke and the principal members of his company
had paid an enjoyable visit to Adelaide, they returned to
Melbourne and reopened the Theatre Royal on Thursday,
October 11, taking up the interrupted run of I'lir Conwdi/ of
Juiors, wliich was received with all tlic old marks of approval
by a large and brilliant assembly. " It speaks volumes for our
colonial stage," remarked The Arr/im two days after, "that this
comedy should have been placed upon the boards so effectively.
Had the piece demanded any very high flight we could not
have looked for an Antipholus of Ephesus from Mr. Edwards,
at all like his brother of Syracuse by Mr. Brooke. The
brothers are like enough for all the purposes of the play.
Much the same remark applies to their body servants ; Mr.
H. Jackson's Droraio of Syracuse being certainly superior to
Mr. Wright's Ephesian Dromio." The Luciana of the production
was Miss Dolores Drummond, who only a short time previously
had made her first appearance on the stage under Brooke's
management. " He was very kind and good to me," this
lady writes to us, " giving me much valuable instruction and
advice. I played during his last season, which was unfortunately
a loss to him, and have still in my possession an I.O.U. for a
few pounds salary owing to me, signed with his name. He
was a generous man and a kind friend." With the temporary
shelving of Shakespeare's comedy to^Yards the middle of the
following week, Brooke appeared as lago to the Moor of
Mr. M*^Kean Buchanan, the American tragedian, who had
just landed with the intention of paralysing the Colonies.
Unfortunately the critics, after lavishing all their praise on the
old and tried favourite, proceeded to rail at the newcomer " in
good round set terms," among which the epithet "ranter" took a
painfully conspicuous position. Relations between the rival
tragedians at once became strained, with the result that on the
last two nights of the week Buchanan remained in undisputed
204 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
possession of the theatre, giving two very feehle exhibitions as
Vu-ginius and Macbeth. The whole affair had its deplorable
aspects, although few who saw this mouthing actor in
England will be, disposed to deny that judgment was passed
otherwise than ou the merits.
On Monday, October 22, a new play, called The Master Passion,
was produced, and, although fairly constructed, proved so tedious
that only the sound work of its exponents saved it from immediate
and utter failure. According to The Leader, " Mr. Brooke's
Orseolo was excellent throughout, and eminently so in the last
scene, in which the struggle between love and hate was forcibly
portrayed. The actor not merely saved but made the play.
With an ordinary artist the piece must have been damned."
Mrs. C. Poole, who shared the honours of an enthusiastic recall
with the tragedian, played splendidly as Morosina; and the
performance was otherwise noteworthy as marking the first
appearance in Melbourne of Miss Rosa Dunn, who gave a chaste
and very pleasing interpretation of Camilla. Exactly a fortnight
afterwards. The Comedij of Errors was again presented at the
Royal, Brooke and Harry Edwards reversing their old parts by
way of giving a fillip to the attractions of the play. This was
followed on Saturday, November 10, by Measure for Measure,
which was placed on the stage with every attention to detail.
Voted a failure at the outset, owing to the weakness of the
acting and the unredeemed gloominess of the theme, the tragedy
was nevertheless retained in the bills throughout the following
week with the vain hope of recouping expenses. While the critics
had nothing but praise for Avonia Jones's Isabella — at all points an
exceedingly powerful performance — they came down with a heavy
hand on the invertebrate Angelo of Harry Edwards and the over-
charged Lucio of George Fawcett. These gentlemen had, however,
the consolation of being condemned in very good company. The
Tender, after asserting that no one save Avonia Jones rose above
mediocrity, while many fell considerably below it, adds, " Even
^Ir. Brookr', as the Duke, seemed to perform his part in a
mechanical manner; and wljiit applause he did receive was more
A Saddeniftc/ Disclosure. 205
out of respect than elicited by admiration." As a matter of fact,
things were all at sixes and sevens in the theatre, and the public
were soon to learn, in the most explicit manner, of the distress
under which the management laboured. On Thursday, December
20, Brooke took a benefit to a crowded house, appearing, in
conjunction with Coppin and Avonia Jones, in T/ie Honeymoon
and The Serious Family . After the hcneficiaire had acknowledged
a recall at the close of the performance, his quondam partner
went on, and in the course of a long speech said: — "I sincerely
regret that the pleasure I feel at this moment is so much
counter-balanced by the distressing position of affairs under
which I assume the reigns of management. When I brought
Mr. Brooke out to this colony, I made a voluntary promise
that I would not separate from him until he had obtained an
independence. I kept my word, and last year he selected this
theatre as his share of our joint property. In taking the
management, he predicted many difficulties, but you will recollect
that, from the spot on which I am now standing, he expressed
his determination to promote the interests of the legitimate
drama. I am sure everyone will acknowledge that he has
carried out his promises to the fullest "extent ; and there are
very few persons but will regret the disastrous losses that have
fallen upon himself. At that time I offered Mr. Brooke £2,000,
clear of all liabilities, which were then about £8,000, How do
I find him now ? Through deceit and misrepresentation, if not
by something worse, he is deprived of his property for a sum
of money so ridiculously below the real value that even a
usurer ought to blush to look upon it. I find his plate, the
presentations you so liberally made, and a portion of his ward-
robe, pawned at a usurious rate of interest, which, having
neglected to be paid, the things were consequently forfeited. In
addition to which he is £-1,000 in debt, making, in all, a loss
of £32,000 since last year, besides all his earnings by engage-
ments in Adelaide, Ballarat, and other places. How this has
been accomplished remains to be explained. There are many
persons who will no doubt say, 'what have we to do with this?
200 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
He sliould look after bis own business better.' " Tbe speaker
tben went on to say tbat, at bis old ally's earnest request,
be purposed assuming control of tbe tbeatre for six montbs,
and in conclusion expressed bis satisfaction at tbe opening of a
new gasworks in tbe city, for tbe reason tbat " before tbe
bouse opened tbe collector of tbe Melbourne Gas Company
called bere, and tbougb tbis establisbment bas paid tbousands
of pounds to tbat company, tbey tbreatened to cut off tbe gas
unless a sum of £15, tbe balance of tbe account, was paid."
Tbe brutal frankness of Coppin, in bolding a brief for bis
brotber, occasioned considerable excitement in tbe metropolis,
and evoked a wordy warfare in tbe papers, all " sound and
fury, signifying notbing."
Taking advantage of a season of Pantomime wbicb followed,
Brooke entered upon a sbort starring tour of tbe provincial
towns of ^'ictoria, and reappeared at tbe Melbourne Tbeatre
Eoyal on February 8, 1801, before a crowded and entbusiastic
audience. Tbe play was Boh Eoij, in wbicb tbe tragedian in tbe
name-part bad tbe attractive support of Sir William and Lady Don
(tben fulfilling a prosperous starring engagement in Melbourne)
as Bailie Nicol Jarvie and Diana Vernon. On Friday, Marcb 15,
a complimentary benefit was tendered to Mr. J. Hall Wilton, on
wbicb occasion Brooke, assisted by tbe principal actors in tbe
metropolis, appeared on bebalf of bis old agent in The Serious
Familij and Dreams of Ikiusion. Tbe An/us records tbat be
was received witb prolonged cbeering on first coming on
in tbe latter piece, in wbicb bis acting was, " as on a previous
occasion adverted to in tbese columns, distinguisbed for
extraordinary merit." Equally entbusiastic was tbe reception
accorded bini on St. Patrick's Nigbt, wben be played Kory
O'More, " in lionour to bis patron saint," as tbe advertisement
bas it, to tbe inexpressible deligbt of a large audience. On tbe
23rd following came tbe last performance and complimentary
benefit of Lady Don, wben Brooke j)layed Sir Lucius 0"Trigger
to tbe Acres of Coppin and tlie Sir Antbony Absolute of tbe
veteran actor, Mr. 11. Wallack, wbo tben ajipcared for tbe first
Expressions of Sf/n/jjatJ///. 207
time before a Colonial audience. Recalled at the finish in
conjunction with our hero, Coppin indulged in a short speech,
in which he said that the engagement of the Dons had proved
the most lucrative of any under his management, excepting that
of his friend and ally, the lessee of the theatre.
Subsequently the Lyster Opera Company held possession of
the Royal until deposed, on Monday, April 22, by Brooke, who
then began a series of farewell performances, assisted by his former
colleagues, Mr. R. Younge and Mr. and Mrs. Heir. Playing with all
his old power as Sir Giles Over-reach on the opening night, he met
with a very flattering reception, and was recalled after the second
and fourth acts, and again at the conclusion of the performance.
During the remainder of the week he appeared in well-worn
Shakespearian characters to gradually dwindling houses, but
experienced a renewal of his whilom popularity with the revival
of Louis XI., "his greatest impersonation," on Monday and
Tuesday, April 29 and 30. On Wednesday the performance,
according to the advertisements, was " under the patronage of
The Tradesmen, who are desirous of conveying to Mr. G.
V. Brooke their deep sympathy with his embarrassments and
appreciation of the honourable means in which he has overcome
his difficulties.' After appearing in Ills Last Lcijs, Brouke on this
occasion made a manly, straightforward speech, which was received
throughout with much applause. "Ladies and gentlemen," he
said, " 1 attach a peculiar value to this compliment, not merely
because it is spontaneous, but because it emanates from those of
whose good opinion 1 have reason to be proud. My commercial
as well as my professional character has received your approbation,
and I have to be proud of the result. It is not my intention,
on the present occasion, to enter into a narrative of my career
in this colony. Suffice it to say that, in the course of six
years, I have shared in its prosperity and in its adversity. If
1 have had to succumb to the latter, you will bear me
witness that I have never sought to evade the consequences
of my disasters. I have striven to retrieve them, and, with
God's help, I have little fear of my success. You have
208 Gustavus Vaiighan Brooke.
generously seconded my efforts. You have imposed no hard
terms, and exacted no rigorous conditions. You have met
me in a frank and trusting spirit ; and I hope to Hve to prove
that whatever reputation I have made as an actor shall not
be sullied by my conduct as a man. The conduct of an
establishment of this magnitude, employing so many persons
and entailing so heavy an outlay week by week, is necessarily
attended with some risk. The receipts are diminished when the
times are depressed, and, under the most prosperous condition
of affairs, a theatre can only be successfully conducted by the
exercise of consummate tact and the utmost vigilance. I have
lost a fortune in it, but I trust that I have preserved my self-
respect and my good name. I am strengthened in this belief
by the assemblage which I now see before me, and although I
have been so often on my ' Last Legs ' there are numbers here
who have volunteered to assist in setting me up again. Ladies
and gentlemen, I thank you all most sincerely for this gratifying
comphment, and wish you all a very good night."
On Friday, May 3, when the performance was under the
patronage of the Governor and Lady Barkly, Brooke played
Othello and Terence O'Grady in The Irish Post. The theatre
advertisement in The An/us of Saturday, after announcing
lUchanl HI. for that evenmg, presents the following item by
way of demonstrating the utter genuineness of these farewell
performances : —
PASSAGE RECEIPT.
lleceiveil from Mr. (J. V. Brooke the sum of £60 sterling in full
XJayment of his passage in the Suffolk, Captain ,1. B. Martin, hence to
London, to sail 2.5th Mav.
W. P. White & Co.
Placed side by side with Mr. Coleman's astonishing statement
that Brooke, when he left, "slunk aboard at dead of night like
a thief and lay hidden behind the smoke-stack of the London*
till slio quitted the harbour," tliis advertisement makes very
interesting reading.
* Not launched until three years later.
A/I Imcujinnrij Convprsation. liO'.l
Tlie tragedian had now procrastinated to .sucli an extent
tliat the wits of the city began to liken him to Prior's thief,
who, when on his way to Tyburn,
"Adjusted his halter, and traversed the cart,
Full often took leave, yet was loth to depart."
Precisely at this period the Milhonrne I'umh came out with
a capital cartoon of Brooke and Coppin, accompanied by an
imaginary conversation so scathing, and yet so real, that it fully
merits reproduction here : —
"Scene — The Manager's Parlour. Present— The Manager
and the Great Tragedian.
" Manager : I say, Gus, don't you think it's time I had a
benefit ?
"Tragedian (gruffly) : A what?
" Manager : A benefit, Gus.
"Tragedian: Well, I think you have a benefit every night.
I do all the work, and you walk in and swallow up two-thirds
of the profits.
"Manager (sleekly): But a complimentary benefit, you
know— a nice little dodge to fill the house and put money in
both our pockets.
"Tragedian: I tell you what it is, George, the public are
beginning to tire of your dodges. You have advertised my
farewell performances so often, that now I am really going,
nobody believes it. I am only sorry that my easy disposition
ever induced mo to be influenced by your persuasive eloquence.
" Manager : it's the last time. It is really. I won't ask
you any more. In fact, ever since I called Kyte a usurer he
has resolved never to let me have the Theatre Royal again, and
has let people know all he did for me at the time the Olympic
was in progress. So the Royal and I must become strangers to
each other for the time to come.
" Tragedian : Serve you right. Why didn't you keep a civil
tongue in your head ?
" Manager : And where were the rounds of applause to come
from ? But let us get back to the benefit.
210 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
"Tragedian: Ah! I don't think that cock will fight.
Everybody is sneering at the passage tickets which you have put
into circulation. The fact is, George, you are falling behind the
age. The Melbourne public of 1861 are not a bit like the
j\Ielbourne public of three or four years back, and you don't
seem to see the change. The dodges which were remunerative
then won't pay now, and you oughtn't to ask me to mix myself
in them. My position as an actor places me above them, and I
despise them.
" Manager : Come, come ! Don't be huffy. Don't turn
round upon an old friend and a warm admirer in that way. Only
this once, Gus, and I will never ask you again.
" Tragedian : But what do you want me to do ? I'm willing
to oblige you within reason ; but
" Manager: 'But me, no buts.' Look here! I have just
sketched out the rough draft of two letters : one is from you to
me, and the other is my reply.
" Tragedian (laughing) : Well, upon my soul, George, you
are the coolest hand at humbugging the public I ever came
across. However, proceed.
" Mana<?er reads: —
'■o^
[FROM ME. G. v. BROOKE.]
Theatre Royal, .Melbourne,
6th May, 1S61.
iSIv Beah Coppin,
Previous to the tennination of my ' farewell performances '
I am desirous of tlianking you publicly for the interest you have taken
in my welfare, and the satisfactory change you have lately made in my
treasury. The most substantial recognition I can oiler under the
circum.-^tances i.-i to place the Theatre lloyal and my services at your
disposal ujion any niglit convenient to yourself, believing that the
'jMiblic' will endorse my ajJiiliiation of your managerial capacity.
Vours very truly,
(;l'stavus v. Brooke.
"Tragedian: That's coming it rather strong; isn't it,
George ?
" Manager : The Britisli public like it strong and hot, and
sweet, like a spinster's toddy.
Tricks of tlw Trade. 2 1 1
"Tragedian: But what's your reply?
" Manager reads : —
Theatre Roval, 7lh May, 1861.
My Deah Brooke,
It's gratifying that a combination of fortunate circumstances
will enable me to bring your lease of the Theatre Royal to a beneficial
close. The treasury, however, is indebted to the attractions of Sir
William and Lady Don, your own great genius and talent, and the
appreciation of the public — not, as you kindly attribute, to my
management. 1 will avail myself of your liberal ofTer, on Friday ne.xt,
and trust you will allow me the pleasure of reciprocating ne.xt week
upon the occasion of your farewell night.
Truly yours,
George Coppin.
" Tragedian : Tliey won't believe you wrote that.
" Manager : Why not '?
"Tragedian: On account of its modesty. 'Not, as you
kindly attribute, to my management,' is not at all like you,
George. You are not the sort of man to hide your light under
a bushel ; you know you are not.
"Manager: Perhaps not; but a little modesty now and
then goes a long way in our profession.
"Tragedian: 'Our profession!' I'm not a member of
Parliament, thank Heaven !
" Manager : I meant the theatrical profession.
"Tragedian: To which you solemnly and faithfully bade
farewell, eh ?
" Manager : Tut, tut. The public have forgotten all about
that. They are fond of humbug, and 1 can supply them wiih
any quantity.
" Tragedian : Faith, and you may say that.
"Manager: "Well, Gus, just put your name to this letter
and I will get it into the posters to-morrow morning.
" Tragedian : I do not like the oflice, but, sith, I am entered
in the cause so far, pricked to it by foolish honesty and love, I
will go on. (Signs the paper.)
"Manager: That's settled. And now Pll take it to the
printers. (Exit)."
212 Oitsfavus Vaughan Brooke.
During the week commencing Monday, May 6, Brooke
appeared as Richelieu (under the patronage of the Mayor and
Corporation) ; as Reuben in Azad (twice consecutively) ; as
Othello (under the patronage of the local cricketers) ; and as
Harry Dornton in The Road to Pudn, for the benefit of Henry
Wallack. Coppin made his appeal on Monday the 13th, and
appeared as Jacques and Sleek to Brooke's Duke Aranza and
Captain Murphy Maguire. Constituting themselves a Mutual
Admiration Society for the nonce, both indulged in sentimental
speeches, burning incense at the altar of their old friendships.
After referring to the reforms effected on the Australian stage
by the tragedian during his six years' sojourn, Coppin suggested
that "in recognition of his claims upon their appreciation of his
genius and talent," they should present him with a testimonial
consisting of an address on sheepskin. How this was acted
upon we shall see shortly.
Among other characters represented by Brooke during the
week were Fabian and Louis Dei Franchi, Sir Bernard Harleigh,
Antipholus of Syracuse (in which the Ariius says he was
imperfect), and Master Walter. The last-mentioned impersonation
was given on the 17th for the benefit of R. Younge, the stage
manager, on which occasion Avonia Jones played Julia, and
met with a very flattering reception. On the Monday and
Tuesday following, Brooke appeared in Coriolanm and 'lite Lady
of Li/ons, and on Wednesday the 22nd took his benefit in The
Irish Ambassador and The Irish Attornci/, when, in accordance
with the advertisement, he delivered his "farewell address as
an Irish Comedian." It ran thus: — "Ladies and Gentlemen —
My countrymen arc celebrated for getting into difficulties ;
in fact, I may say an Irishman is never so happy as when
he is in trouble, and, upon my conscience, I am no exception
to the general rule ; for I was never in a greater state of
botheration than at this moment, and I never felt so liappy in
all my life. Tlie secret of my botheration is this — wliat am I
to say to thank you ;ill, and how am I to tell you all the
deliglits r fool in seeing so many clicerful faces before me,
Last Performance in Australia. 213
and all the sorrow I feel in bidding you farewell ? My
countrymen will remember— for what Irishman can ever forget
— the mingled sunshine and showers of the heaven which bends
over the beautiful Erin ; and, as her skies are, so are the hearts
and countenances of her people — now bright with the sunshine
of joy, and now dark with the rain-clouds of sorrow. My
emotions on this occasion are of that mixed character, and I
beg you to believe that, if my words are few, it is because my
heart is full, and while I feel deeply and truly grateful, and
really happy at this kindly leave-taking on your part, I also feel
a pang of earnest sorrow at parting from so old, warm and true
friends as those to whom I now, for the last time, in an Irish
character, say farewell." On the following evening Brooke made
his last appearance as an actor on Australian boards, in the
character of Virginius, when the pathetic nature of the performance
was considerably intensified by the regrets of the audience in
having to part with their old favourite. After he had delivered
another elegantly impressive adieu, and had been called and
recalled until it seemed as if many of the spectators, in their
affectionate enthusiasm, would have leaped on the stage and
embraced him, a crumb of consolation was afforded by Coppin's
announcement that, owing to a postponement in the sailing of
the Suffolk, the tragedian would appear again on those boards,
in his private capacity, at the amateur performance to be giveii
in his honour on Saturday the 25th. Consequently, on that
night The Poor Gentlemen and The Spitaljields Weaver were played
by a number of local amateurs, enjoying the patronage of Major-
General the Hon. T. S. Pratt, C.B., Commander of the Forces,
and most of the Government Oflicials in ^lelbourne. Between
the pieces Mr, James Smith delivered an address, written by
Mr. Charles Bright, and emblazoned on vellum, which, together
with a cheque for some £110, representing the surplus proceeds
of the evening's performance, was presented to the tragedian, who
made suitable and feeling response. On the following Monday a
complimentary farewell benefit was tendered to Avonia Jones,
who had made arrangements to visit London in company with
214 Gustavus VaugJian Brooke,
Brooke, in order to have the benefit of his experience in
effecting her debut there. After the performance of An Yon
TAke It, in which the lady star played Eosalind to Mr. Hoskin's
Jacques, Brooke, assisted by Richard Younge, read a portion of
the third act of Othello.
In accordance with the request of a number of the " unco
guid," who were desirous of hearing him, while at the same
time possessing conscientious scruples against entering a play-
house, Brooke made his last public appearance in Melbourne on
Tuesday, May 28, in the Exhibition Hall, the entertainment
consisting entirely of dramatic readings. To mark the occasion
the proceeds were devoted to the erection of a cottage in
connection with the Australasian Dramatic College, which had
been initiated a few months previously by the Hon. George
Coppin, M.L.C. — as the tragedian's quondam partner was now
entitled to style himself. Assisted intermittently, where the
selection required it, by Mr. and Mrs. Heir and his old friend
Mr. James Smith, Brooke gave the Dagger Scene from Macbeth,
Hotspur's description of the Fop, The Seven Ages, The Night
before the Battle {lloiri/ IV.). besides selections from Kin;/
John, Richelieu, and Love's Sacrifice, and two Irish readings,
" The Fox of Ballybotherem " and " Paddy the Piper." Holding
the attention of his audience throughout, the tragedian played
upon their feelings with the same certainty tliat the well-
accomplished musician plays upon his instrument, now
commanding a painful and death - like silence, and now
provoking incessant peals of laughter by the spontaneous
humour of his Hibernian selections. Although the entertainment
lasted upwards of three hours, there Avero few present who did
not feel regret wlien it drew to a close. Two days afterwards
Brooke, accompanied by Henry Wallack and Avonia Jones,
sailed for Liverpool, not after all, it would appear, in the
Siijl'olk, but ill 'I'lii- (iri'itt lUildiu.
Departing, after six years of earnest unremitting labour,
poorer in many ways than lie had landed— wifeless, and £1,500
ill debt to l)0ot Urooke said good-bye to tlie Colonies without
Summary of In's Colonial Work. 2 15
rancour in hi.s heart against any man. Indulging in but little
self-reproacb, he only retained a certain numb consciousness that
the princely fortune he had gained by close attention to his
professional duties had been frittered away through the
blundering inefficiency of too well-trusted satellites. It had
been, on the whole, the happiest period of his life ; it was
certainly the most important in point of histrionic influence
and artistic results. Not so much a portion of his career as a
career in itself, the few years passed, by Brooke in Australia
must be viewed now as a thing sacred and apart. That he
looked upon it in some such light himself there can be little
reason for doubting. We know, at any rate, that in after days
of degradation and abasement, he never strove to trade upon
his colonial reputation, and seldom cared to remind himself of
those happier times by reappearing in such characters as had
been associated in a high and peculiar degree with his
Melbourne and Sydney triumphs. Returning to England a
broken man, he fell back at once without a struggle into the
old grooves, and with the calmness of despair took up the
tangled skein of life as ho had left it in 185G. Hence few of
his admirers at home ever gained any save the most superficial
knowledge of the extreme height to which his artistic powers
had attained.
"Beaten but not disgraced," must be the verdict of those
who examine Brooke's record in the Colonies dispassionately.
Esteemed by all with whom he came in contact socially from
the hour of his landing, he grew, as a natural consequence, to
respect himself, and, up to the time when a recurrence of old
misfortunes brought back all the old deplorable habits, had led
a placid and comparatively uneventful life. Under the ripening
influence of this salutary metamorphosis, his histrionic powers
mellowed and expanded ; and with the chastening of his physical
exuberance came a relative increase in the subtlety and finish of
his acting. Arriving with a working repertory of some forty
characters, he had by dint of diligent study and forethought
almost doubled llie number before the period of his departure.
216 Gnstavus Vaughan Brooke.
Of the thirty-three new personations, at least thirteen were
Shakespearian, and, in directing his attention to these, the
tragedian had been mainly instrumental in the production for
the first time in the Colonies of a third of the Master's works.
Synchronising with the more pretentious labours of Charles
Kean and Samuel Phelps in the English metropolis, Brooke's
managerial work in the Victorian capital, considering his
restrictions and environment, was not a whit less important.
Mounted as they were, without any pedantic straining after
scrupulous exactitude, and yet with a care and completeness
unprecedented in that quarter of the globe, these Shakespearian
productions at the Melbourne Theatre Koyal had an abiding
influence upon the whole future tone of the Australasian drama.
Acting in a country practically devoid of histrionic tradition,
Brooke became a law unto himself, and was thus emboldened to
give a loose rein to those versatile instincts which, in accordance
with the conventional limitations of the established tragedian,
had been previously held in with a firm hand. Happily in
doing this he found himself drifting before the tide of public
inclination ; and with the success that crowned his efforts he
soon acquired two distinct histrionic identities. First and
foremost, there was Brooke the tragedian — the cosmopolitan
Brooke, who reached the zenith of his powers as Cardinal
Wolsey and Louis XI. In sharp contrast came Brooke the
gentlemanly Irish comedian — Brooke of the brogue, whose
reputation in the Colonies was such as a Power or a Hudson
might have envied. During his sojourn there no fewer than
thirteen Hibernian characters were, from time to time,
satisfactorily sustained, nine of which had been newly added to
his repertory to cope with the demand for his frequent
appearance in light assumptions of the kind.
Painfully conscious that Brooke had played havoc with his
hopes and fortunes in the endeavour to foster a taste for the
classic dranui in their midst, tlie playgoers of Melbourne viewed
his departure with unfeigned regret, and deplored liis jibsence
with constancy. Remaining the god of their idolatry as year
Good-hye to the Colonies.
tu
after year rolled by, they yearned to bestow upon him litting
reward for his labours, and repeatedly sent liberal ofters to
induce him to return. lUit it was not to be. The Man was
lost to them for ever. But his memory remained green, and
when, in the fullness of time, tragedians of the stamp of
Charles Kean, Creswick, and Barry Sullivan essayed to win the
suffrages of the Colonies, it was by his standards and liis
traditions tliat they found themselves rated.
t?^f^J,
CHAPTEE XI.
1S61— 1863.
State of the Drama in England— Brooke plays his Last Engagement
at Diury Lane — Debut of Avonia Jones in Bledea — An Unlucky
Provincial Tour— Brooke Quarrels with the Belfast Manager and
gives Dramatic Readings there — Sullering in Health — Spiteful
Action of E. T. Smith — Brooke an Inmate of Warwick CJaol —
Morris to the Rescue — ^Ir. Bancroft's Coming of Age— A Memorable
Manchester Engagement — Henry Irving plays the role of Apologist
— Eechter's Curiosity to see Brooke— Avonia Jones goes her Own
Way— Our Hero at the City of London Theatre — Death of his
Mother — His Second Marriage.
DT'RING Brooke's prolonged absence in Australia a good
many changes had taken place at home in affairs dramatic.
When he returned it was to find theatricals at a low ebb in
England, with the stage out of favour in society, and little
recognised by the higher literature. Like all the other arts, the
drama in the 'sixties was in an essentially transitory state, having
now begun to feel the re-actionary influence of the pre-Raphaelite
movement. Charles Kean's series of sumptuous archieological
revivals at the Princess's Theatre had effectually stamped out
the traditions of the old two-boards-and-a-passion school to
which our liero certainly belonged. Even Phelps, at Sadler's
Wells, deemed it advisable to float down gently with the tide,
rather than oppose the rude buffet of the waves. Komantic
drama was fast merging into the sensational, and high-flown
comedy was about to give way to the refhied mawkishness of
the tea-cup and saucer school. Moreover, Fechtcr had dawned
upon the theatrical horizon, and the growing attention to
realism and )ninutenes3 of detail caused the play-going public
to seek in acting for subtlety rather than breadth. Happily,
witli the decline of Brooke's exuberant vigour had co]nc a
Netjotiations with Mr /•'. 7". Smith. 210
corresponding iiuprovemeiit in tlic intellectual phases of ins
acting. 'Plus, allied witli Lis undying popularity, contrived
to render liiui tolerable. But it was impossible for a tragedian
whose every fibre was permeated with the traditions of the old
declamatory school to adopt himself satisfactorily to the doctrines
of the reigning cultus ; and Brooke's deplorable habits, gripping
him the tighter with each succeeding misfortune, soon rendered
all striving towards that end fruitless.
On his return from the Colonies our hero indulged himself
with a much-needed rest among his relatives in Ireland, and at
once made overtures to INfr. E. T. Smith for his re-appearance
at Drury Lane. That he did not effect his purpose without
considerable difliculty the following letter evidences: —
[nkeu.man Cottage,
Bray,
Co. WiCKLOW,
October 3rd, '61.
My Dear Smith,
I wisli to meet you in as liberal a spirit as I possibly can, but
when you talk of your being a loser by lui/ proposed arrangement, yon really
can have no idea of my expotse^. And unless there is a chance for me to
make something, / .shall be a mucii greater loser than yon can possi'uly be.
Say we put the working expenses of Drury Lane Theatre (including the
sjilary of myself. Miss Jones, and Younge) at Seventy pounds per night —
that more than covers all the expenses named by you, with the exception of
rent. 1 contend, iiowever, that if a proprietor puts himself and theatre
against the earnings of an acknowledged star, he only puts himself on a
fair business cqitaliit/ with the said star, "^'ou must know yourself that
there are items in your estimate of expenses that can be cut down consider-
ablJ^ Gas, for instance, 12,000 per night (fudge !>. There are also salaries
that may be essential to yozi, but will not assist my business much.
I do not want to conmience my theatrical career in this country witli a
disagreement, and am therefore willing to concede as much as jtossible ;
but / K-ant no mutual friends in business matters. I have commenced to
transact my own, without intervention, and have not for some years given
anyone authority to make any engagement for me witliout my counter
signature.
If you have not faith enough in the engagement to divide with nie, after
ZiicrrtZ working expense, irhy urge it.^ If it will not pay ijou, it cannot
me ; and I therefore think you will meet all dillicultics by returning me the
memoranda 1 wrote to you for accei)tance, sharing after Seventy pounds
(.i;70) per night, instead of Sixty (£00), but with no other alteration.
I am, my dear Smith,
Yours very sincerely,
(JUSTAVrs \. |{K(K)KE.
220 Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
Four days after writing this letter, Brooke made his
reappearance on British boards, for the first time since his
retm'u, at the Theatre Eoyal, Dubhn, playing Othello to the
Desdemona of Miss Sarah Thome. His three weeks' sojourn
there proved sufficiently prosperous to put him in good heart ;
and he expressed great delight at the reception accorded him on
his benefit night, an overflowing house having assembled to see
his impersonation of Sir Bernard Harleigh in Dreams of
Delusion.
Considering the tenour of Brooke's letter to E. T. Smith,
it is not surprising to find that the company engaged in support
of the tragedian, when he made his reappearance at Drury Lane
on Monday, October 28, was wi'etched in the extreme. The
Times, however, of the following day opined that " The
acclamations with which he was received, and the applause
bestowed on lines uttered with more than usual emphasis,
showed that an Othello of the old school can still command a
body of admirers. Mr. Brooke's style of acting, and the use he
makes of a naturally sonorous voice, are so familiar to all
but very young playgoers that a minute analysis of his
interpretation would be somewhat superfluous. He returns
home in very good case ; he makes his points not only with
great force, but with much deliberation, and is altogether the
reversal of a non- traditional Othello. Moreover, he has a
commanding figure, is earnest even to solemnity, and is, in a
word, just the sort of ' noble Moor ' that many people have been
taught to regard as the beau-ideal. Without being condemned
to feel their old notions violently uprooted or to bury prejudices
in unwelcome oblivion, the London public may see the Tragedy
move along in its old track, wishing at the same time that
there was a little more liveliness in the Cassio and a little more
astuteness in the lago. But there are in Mr. Brooke the
elements of a permanent popularity, and he is pretty certahi of
a class- of admirers willing to overlook minor considerations."
Electing to stand or fall on her own merits, Avonia Jones
made her first appearance in England at the same theatre, on
Avonia Jones as yfedea. 221
Tuesday, November 5, in an adaptation of the M>d,n of
M. Ernest Legouve. Unliappily, the youtliful actress had been
grounded in a school of tragedy fast growing obsolete, and her
ponderously heavy style (which earned for her in the provinces
the ungracious sobriquet of Avonia Groans) did not conduce to
any very great popularity. Much bepuffed in advance, her (l<'l>ut
failed to attract more than passing attention, and was at once
rated a success of esteem. " To those," says The Tunes, " who
recollect the imposing figure of Mad. Ristori as she made her
entrance from the rocks at the back of the stage, the slight and
by no means commanding figure of Miss Avonia Jones forebodes
somewhat a feeble delineation of the Colchian heroine, and
though it may even be perceived that her voice is both musical
and flexible and her movements generally easy and natural, the
spectator is led to expect that while the pathetic side of Medea's
character will be delicately portrayed, the passions of hate and
revenge will not receive adequate expression. This opinion she
dissipates as soon as opportunity presents itself, and in the
famous ' leopard speech,' as well as in other passages, where
Medea's natural savagery is brought forward, she shows an intensity
and abandonment to passion which compensates in agreat measure
for a deficiency in physical strength. "We may add that her points
are made without close preparation, and that her attempts to
produce those statuesque effects, which seem to be instinctively
sought by all artists who represent antique personages, never
betray her into a stiff, uneasy mode of gesticulation."
Continuing to appear for some little time afterwards as
Othello and Medea, on alternate nights, Brooke and Avonia
Jones performed together for the first time at this theatre, on
Tuesday the lOtli, in Love's Sacrifice, which held its place in
the bills during the remainder of the week. A few^ more
representations of Moled followed ; and with the conclusion of
the engagement on the last day of the month the doors of old
Drury had closed for ever on Gustavus Brooke.
Some criterion of the ill - success of this metropolitan
venture may be gleaned from tlie disastrous consequences which
222 Gustaviis Vaughan Brooke.
ensued. Not only did the tragedian find himself involved
in serious pecuniary embarrassments, from which he never
got thoroughly clear, but on returning to the provinces he
discovered that in most places the bad news (magnified and
distorted) had preceded him to unlucky purpose. Brighton,
however, at the outset, proved an honourable exception to the
general rule. Indeed so well attended was the theatre during
his engagement there of the first week in December that the
receipts averaged something like £118 nightly. Mr. Charles
Coghlan was, at that time, a member of the local stock
company, and among other parts plaj'ed Cassio to the star's
Othello. After a visit to York, Brooke, Avonia Jones, and the
inevitable Younge opened at Belfast on Tuesday, December 21,
in A ^\'n• Wmj to Vaij Old Debts, to £12 8s. Od. ! Engaged
on half receipts and thirty pounds per week, the trio,
notwithstanding Brooke's reputation in the capital of Ulster
and the novelty of the tragedienne's first appearance, only
received £44; 10s. 9d. for the first four nights' performances.
On the Monday following, when othclJn was in the bill, and
considerable numbers had assembled round the theatre awaiting
the opening of the doors, quite a stir was created by the
appearance of several men carrying poles on which were
conspicuous placards bearmg the undernoted announcement : —
THEATKE J{OYAL.
N O T I C K T O T ME 1' i; ]! I. I C .
In consequence of a I'.rcacli of Engii^'oiuent on the i)ait of the Manager,
Mr. (I. \. lirookc, .Miss Avouia Jones and JNlr. It. Younge will not
perform tills evening, Monday, December 30th.
Soon the walls of tlie tlieatre were placarded with a
counter-stattment, and tlie doors remaining closed the crowd
gniduiilly di.sperscd. All tlie Hympathies of tlie public appeared
to 1)0 with J>rooke, although no one exactly knew what had
occasioned" the rupture. Next morning the tragedian published
ail apology in the papers, and without deigning to vouchsafe
any explanation, spoke ominously of an impending lawsuit.
Brooke and the Belfast Manaoer. 223
]\Iuch speculation still being rife, however, in the public mind
concerning the origin of the quarrel, he deemed it advisable to
enlighten his friends in the following letter, which appeared in
the News-Letter of January 2, 1862 : —
Mil. BltOUKE'S ENGAGEMENT IN BELFAST.
To the Editor of the Belfast Ncivs-Lelter.
Sir,
Feeling it due to the public that some explanation should
be given to account for the abrupt and unexpected termination of the
engagement I entered into with Mr. Scott in conjunction with Miss
Avonia Jones and Mr. K. Younge, I now beg leave to present a brief
statement of facts.
During my London engagement in November I entered into an
arrangement with Mr. Scott to perform for eleven nights, commencing
December '2.3rd instant. According to the usual custom, I enclosed him
the plays for performance on the first two nights, and they were duly
announced. While fuliilling an engagement at York 1 ascertained that
the funeral of the much-lamented Prince Consort was to take place on
Monday the '2.3rd — the day on which my engagement with Mr. Scott
was to commence. I immediately wrote to him stating that, under the
circumstances, I concluded the theatre would not be open on that
evening. ^Ir. Scott, however, replied informing me that he positively
intended to open the theatre, and that I should be prepared to fulfil my
engagement.
Consequently I arrived in Belfast on the morning of the 22nd, and
immediately directed Mr. Lyon (my agent) and ^Ir. R. Younge (my stage
manager) to obtain an interview with Mr. Scott and make known to him
my feelings as to the gross impropriety of the courst- he appeared
determined to pursue. He, however, would not yield to my feelings or
opinion on the subject. Thereupon, I placed myself in communication
with the Mayor (Sir Edward Coey), who, on the case being stated to
him, entirely concurred with me, and tlie result was tiiat Mr. Scott
yielded, and no performance took place.
This was my lirst unpleasantness with Mr. Scott.
I continued to perform my engagement up to Saturday evening last,
when my agent on calling on ^h•. Scott for the fulhlment of his
pecuniary ol)ligations, he, to my great surprise, refused any settlement,
but referred me to his solicitor.
I have some ccmfidence that the plain statement of facts will justify
me before the public; that the public will consider me fully justified in
insisting upon the just and equitable adherence to the engagement I
entered into at Mr. Scott's solicitation. 1 iiave thus 'a round unvarnished
tale delivered.' The facts I pledge myself to. 1 have omitted many
unpleasant details which I would be sorry unnecessarily to obtrude on
public notice, and remain,
Yours respectfully,
G. \'. BUOOKE.
December 30, 1S6L
22i Gusfavus Vaughan Brooke.
Complying with a numerously-signed requisition from his
old admirers, the tragedian, in conjunction with Avonia Jones
and Mr. Younge, gave a series of readings from Shakespeare, in
the Music Hall, on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the 13th,
loth, and 17th of January. Selections from Othello, Measure for
Measure, Julius C<esar, and other plays were given, Brooke on all
three occasions prefacing the entertainment by the delivery of a
spirited oration on the genius of the Immortal Bard. Inclement
weather and the rival attractions of Barry Sullivan (who had
just entered upon an engagement at the theatre) had to be
contended with ; but notwithstanding these drawbacks, the Music
Hall was inconveniently crowded on the first reading, by an
enthusiastic assembly. In a few parting words at the close of
the second entertainment, Brooke announced that, in accordance
with his usual practice during his visits to Belfast, of contributing
something to local charities, the receipts on Friday evening would
be handed over without deduction to the General Hospital. But
as the attendance on that occasion was small, the cause could
have benefited but slightly by his generosity.
To add to his misfortunes, the tragedian's health had been
far from good since his return from the Colonies. ^yriting to
his old friend Morris, of Ayr, from " 107 West Eegent Street,
Glasgow," on February 26, we find him saying —
" I need hardly expi'ess the gratification I felt on receipt ot
your kind note, and must apologise for not having acknowledged
it sooner. I'ut I am sorry to say that for the past month I
have been sufi"ering more or less from rheumatism — I suppose
occasioned from my long sojourn in a Avarm climate — and I don't
care ho\y soon I may get accustomed to the fogs and bleak
climate of ] Britain. Strange to say, I had notliing to complain
of with regard to my native air, so I suppose there must be a
cliarni in it."
Heartily welcomed by tlie I Imild on making his appearance
at Cireonock in the following week, he was flatteringly told that
time had by no means impaired liis fine histrionic powers.
According to tlic Advertiser, the effect of Avonia Jones's Medea
Hard Times. 225
" upon the audience was intense, and tlie gifted actress was
called before the curtain at the close of each act and received
with loud, long-continued, and merited plaudits. We have never
witnessed a more complete triumph."
On the termination of his Glasgow engagement, Brooke had
paid a brief visit to his old and tried friend at Ayr, and on
March 9, writes to hira as follows from 9 Laird Street,
Greenock : —
My Dear Mk. Morris,
Many thanks for the umbrella. We arrived here about five
o'clock and had a good house on Monday. It has done nothing else
but snow or rain, and I have not been out of the house except at night
when I was obliged to go to the theatre. I have been labouring under
(I won't say cold) chill all the week ; the back part of the theatre has
been cold enough, and the front part colder than I anticipated. The
latter, I suppose, is attributable to the general cry, "Times are bad."
My ])oor unfortunate finger has been very bad. The frost got into
if, and there was quite a large hole in the joint. It is, however, much
better now, but like all sore places always in the way. The sun is
.shining to-day for the first time since we have been here, and we are
going to take a walk somewhere. We shall leave to-morrow at
7-15 for Dundee, where I shall remain till Saturday morning. My
arrangements are now made up till 24th of May, and thus they run :—
Dundee; on the ITtli, Edinburgh for twelve nights; on the .Slst, Hull
for six nights; Ttli April, Newcastle upon-Tyne for twelve nights;
Easter week I sliall rest; 28th, Shelfield for twelve nights; Monday,
12th May, Birmingham for twelve nights, ending 24th. I shall write
occasionally and frecjueiitly send you papers.
With many thanks for the interest you have taken in my early
career— Believe me, my dear Mr. Morris,
Yours most sincerely,
G. \. Brooke.
The last house we have had has been £36 14s. Od. Oh !
Too ill and too much out of sorts to call upon his old
schoolfellow, Dr. Fox, whom he had discovered to be in practice
in Greenock, he wrote him a pleasant if nervously-penned note,
expressing "how happy I should have been to have had an
opportunity of renewing the acquaintance of so old an associate,
and trust that I may have that pleasure before I leave again
for Australia, which I think will be%bout November."
So little of this weakness, however, did he betray on the
stage that the local press continued to speak in high terms of
Q
226 Gustai'us Vaughan Brooke.
his acting, and in dealing with the performance of Kimi John
(in which the tragedian appeared in the name-part to the
Constance of Avonia Jones), remarked that "nothing hke the last
scene, in point of dramatic effect, has ever been seen at our
theatre." But alas for the probity of the critical craft ! No
sooner had Brooke and his companions departed than the
Greenock Herald, as if wearied in exhausting its vocabulary of
enthusiasm, burst forth with a tirade upon the last performance,
in which the tragedian's Macbeth was compared unfavourably
with Tom Powrie's conception, and Avonia Jones (only a day or
two previously Mrs. Siddons and Helen Faucit rolled into one)
rated on a level with Miss Marriott.
Matters failed to improve with the passage of time. A
storm cloud that had lowered over poor Brooke's head ever
since his Drury Lane engagement, burst with extreme virulence
while he was at Sheffield early in May; and from that period
he never recovered his former gaiety and confidence. Under
heavy pecuniary obligations to E. T. Smith, which he had
striven vainly to meet, he at length received a telegram from
that gentleman stating that a satisfactory remittance to cover
some bills must be made by return, or "fatal results" would
ensue. Seale, Smith's solicitor, had also written a peremptory
note demanding immediate payment of debt interest and his bill
of costs, failing which, execution would be issued without further
notice.
Alarmed at these threats, we find Brooke, on May 5,
communicating with j\Ir. James Morris to explain that he is
sending his secretary to give full particulars of the predica-
ment, hoping his old friend will come to the rescue, and thus
prevent him becoming a temporary inmate of York Castle.
"Mr. Lyon," he adds, "has the proper bill to give you in
return, and if you could make it for six months it would suit
me better, as on the 'iud of June Miss Jones' engagement with
me will cease, and I sliall thou 1)C untrammelled and alone."
Four days afterwards, Brooke's secretary had returned from
Scotland with Morris's two drafts for £25 each, and these were
Imprisoned for Deht.
907
at once sent on to Loudon. "I am sorry to say," writes
Brooke from Sheffield, in acknowledging tbis further act of
kindness — "I am sorry to say that in consequence of my
very heavy expenses, from which I shall be in a few weeks
released, my tour has hitherto not proved as profitable as I had
anticipated ; but I trust I shall be enabled to make such an
arrangement for tlie liquidation of the bills that may come easy
to me."
Although all went well up to the conclusion of the first
week of Brooke's Birmingham engagement, Messrs. Smith and
Seale in the meantime had not considered the £50 remitted a
sufficient "stave off." At least £30 of that sum had been
ingeniously swallowed up in costs, leaving the tragedian still
indebted to the tune of £79. Notwithstanding that he had
intimated his intention of clearing this off in satisfactory weekly
instalments, he was arrested at their suit, without further
warning, on Monday, May 19, and at once hurried off to
Warwick Gaol. Interrupted in the heat of a prosperous
engagement, his name was immediately withdrawn from the bills
without comment, and the residue completed by Avonia Jones
and Mr. Younge as best they could.
Pausing here a little, it is noteworthy that among the
members of the liirmingliam stock company at this period
Avas no less a personage than Mr. Bancroft, who supported
Brooke during the previous week, and on the night he came of
age played Allworth to the tragedian's Sir Giles. A most
favourable impression was left on the mind of the young actor ;
so much so indeed, that when in recent years he came to treat
of his early experiences in the "Bancroft Memoirs," he found
occasion to speak of Brooke's acting as "of the highest kind and
quite remarkable."
If Smith's vindictive action defeated its own object, he had
at least the poor satisfaction of knowing that his victim — the
man who had assisted in the establishment of his fortunes at
Drury Lane — suffered keenly during his incarceration. Writing
to Morris from " 1st Class Debtors' Ward, Warwick Gaol," on
228 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
May 22, Brooke speaks in unmeasured terms of his persecutor's
conduct, and, continuing, says : —
I was to have played at Newcastle-under-Lyme for nine nights,
commencing on Monday, and have now resolved to clear off liability by
not being harassed. To-morrow I intend to declare myself a bankrupt
and shall file my petition. I have had a most weary and annoying life
lately, and I now make another appeal to send me £12 to assist me
in doing what I have told you. It will relieve me from an anxious life
of downright misery; and address, '-('are of Miss Avonia Jones,
103 Islington, Birmingham." I am sure you will pardon this request. I
would not call on you if I could avoid it, and you are the only friend
1 have got that would put themselves out of the way to aid me.
Believe me, dear Mr. Morris,
Your very sincere and much obliged friend,
Gustavus V. Brooke.
To this pathetic appeal Morris generously responded by
sending a bank-bill for £20, which well-nigh miscarried, owing
to his forgetfulness of Brooke's instructions. Misdirected, the
letter, along with several others addressed to the insolvent actor,
was stopped at the Post Office and placed in the hands of the
Official Assignee. To this dignitary the sender at once made
formal application, and was just in time to prevent the money
finding its way into the pockets of the creditors.
Meanwhile, Avonia Jones, like a true woman, had done her
best to alleviate the distress of her future husband. To one or
two of his most intimate friends in Belfast and elsewhere she
wrote at length, explaining his plight hi terms which did equal
credit to her head and heart, and showed how much she
reverenced the man to whom she had given her young affections.
Nor was this all. In the face of impoverished resources and
an uncertain future, and despite the existence of a formidable
retinue of idle and needy relatives, her one thought at this
juncture was how to recompense tlie man who had clogged
himself in endeavouring to establish her reputation. Money she
had none. Brooke was already largely her debtor for salary due.
But she liad still some valuable jewels at her command ; and
tliese she willingly rendered up to ]\lr. W. J. Keeves, a
Bankrupt Again. 220
Birminghaui solicitor, as security for the costs in filing the
necessary petition. Thanks to this magnanimous action, Brooke
was enabled to appear before Mr. Commissioner Sanders, of the
Birmingham Bankruptcy Court, on the 28th, and two days
afterwards obtained his release. He then repaired to
Newcastle-under-Lyme, where, from the Borough Arms Hotel,
on June 1, we find him writing to Morris as follows ; —
" I have suffered a good deal of wrong and annoyance
lately, and when I found myself arrested for a small sum, and
thus prevented from exercising my professional avocation, I
thought it best to take steps to enable me to do so without the
constant anxiety and fear of interruption. I therefore filed my
petition, and on Wednesday obtained my discharge. The
amount of my liabilities, Australian and English, comes to
two thousand two hundred and sixty-seven pounds (£2,2G7).
My first hearing is fixed for the 16th of June, and I hope after
this to get on swimmingly ; for it was utterly impossible for me
to do anything with that great incubus hanging over me. I
really cannot express the deep feeling of gratitude I feel to you
for the interest you have taken in my welfare, and the very
tangible proofs of kindness you have shown me."
To Brooke's credit let it be said that on the two
occasions on which he became insolvent his intention was
merely to free himself temporarily from the distracting
persistency of duns, and not to evade payment of his debts.
Previously, after returning from America with replenished pockets,
he had discharged all his obligations in full ; and had dame
Fortune only placed it in his power, a like course would have
been pursued in the latter instance. Lax and unbusinesslike as
he may have been in many respects, his code of honour in
regard to money matters was certainly strict and undeviating.
Lending or borrowing with equal facility, he mux-h oftener paid
than received. To this integrity (part and parcel of his
personal nobleness) he owed the confidence placed in him
by men like James Morris, who, despite his manifold weaknesses
and misfortunes, stood resolutely by him to the last.
230 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
Come we now to a lengthened engagement of note at the
Theatre Eoyal, ]\Ianchester — one of the few oases in a desert of
miappreciated strolHng. Supported by an excellent stock
company, comprising, amongst others, Henry Irving, Clifford
Cooper, F. Everill, G. F. Sinclair, and Mrs. Bickerstafl",
Avonia Jones opened there, alone, on Saturday, June 7, in
Medea, the play retaining its place in the bills throughout
the whole of the following week. Considering that seven years
had elapsed since Brooke's last engagement in Manchester, it
it is not surprising that a large and excited audience was
attracted to the theatre, on Monday the 16th, by the announce-
ment that the old favourite would reappear on that occasion
for Avonia Jones's benefit. Having repaired, however, to
Birmingham on the same day, in connection with the first
hearing of his petition in bankruptcy, Brooke was detained
there longer than he anticipated, and failed to arrive at the
theatre for some considerable time after the advertised hour
of commencing. Chafing under the delay the audience at
length grew so demonstrative that Mr. Irving found it neces-
sary to appear before the curtain and, in general terms,
explain the situation. "Last evening," says the Manchester
Guardian, " the performance at the Theatre Eoyal was for
the benefit of Miss Avonia Jones, a lady who in the classical
character of Medea has, in the course of a week, won a
high place in the estimation of a Manchester audience ; and
when we say that to the lady's own unquestionable merits
were added those of a first-class tragedian, in the person of
Mr. G. V. Brooke, and that Macbeth was the piece chosen,
sufficient has been said to indicate that an entertainment of no
ordinary attraction was offered. The result was, as it deserved
to be, a crowded house and a brilliant success. The reception
accorded to Mr. Brooke was one of which lie might well be
proud. The liouso re-echoed with applause as ho made his
appearance on tlic stage, and Lhrougliout the wliole of the
tragedy the enthusiasm of the audience was sustained." Among
tliose who assisted in tlie rendering of Locke's music on that
Fechtor anxious to see Brooke. 231
occasion was our friend Mr. Dinsmore, who had seen Brooke
and Helen Faucit at the old Queen's in the same play tome
sixteen years previously. In awarding the palm to the later
impersonation, this ardent Brookite remarks that the tragedian's
acting on the opening night seemingly exercised an equal charm
on those behind the footlights as well as those in front.
Especially does he remember that the bright particular Banquo
of the occasion (who was himself subsequently to become one
of the Macbeths of the century) made the most of every
opportunity afforded to watch the star from a snug position in
the wings.
Unhappily with Brooke's return from the genial atmosphere
of the Colonies his voice had begun to show spasmodic signs of
its old weakness. The story goes that on one occasion during
this engagement, when Fechter journeyed from London to see the
tragedian's King John, his voice was so husky as to render his
elocutionary efforts well nigh uniutelhgible. Nothing, how-
ever, could damp the ardour of his Manchester admirers, who
continued to fill the theatre nightly until July 19, and bestowed
liberal applause on the stars for their presentation of a round of
standard characters. Always in the van where charity was
concerned, Brooke gave a performance before leaving, on behalf
of the Distressed Operatives, at which upwards of £110 were
realised.
Meanwhile, on the first of the month, he had written to
Morris in the following strain : — " I am happy to say that things
are beginning to wear a very fair aspect. I went up for my
first hearing on the 16th of last month, and passed without
any opposition. I have to go to Birmingham again on the
IGth of this month, and have every reason to believe I shall
then get my discharge. My engagement here has turned out
more successfully than I had anticipated, and is consequently
extended another fortnight — that is, I shall remain here until
the 21st, save that I shall have to visit Birmingham and return
the same evening. 1 shall commence at Liverpool on Monday
the 28th, and have not as yet made any arrangements after,
232 Gustavus VaugJian Brooke.
but have any quantity of engagements offered. I hope very
soon to see things on the ' square,' and everyone satisfied."
Recognising that the attractions of her name were not of
much additional value to the tragedian, and feeling it incumbent
upon her to earn more money for the support of her mother
and other relatives, Avonia Jones now elected to go her way
unaided. Making her reappearance in London, in August,
as Medea, at the Adelphi, she performed there intermittently
until the middle of 1863, playing among other characters of
importance Adrienne Lecouvrenr, Aurora Floyd, and Janet Pride.
With somewhat brighter prospects looming on the horizon,
Brooke had now abandoned the idea of an early return to the
Colonies. Writing from " 11 Upper Newington, Mount Pleasant,
Liverpool," on September 20, he says to Morris: — "Yours of
the 29th ultimo has been following me about everywhere ; and
my peregrinations have been numerous lately. You will be
pleased to hear that I got out of my difficulties with Hying
colours, and, despite of opposition, was highly complimented by
the judge previous to my leaving the court. I can assure you
that I. feel myself now quite a different man ; bought experience
they say, is a good thing ; and I am sure it will prove so in my
case. For the future I feel now, comparatively speaking, free
and untrammelled. I am gadding about from town to town — a
week here and a fortnight there — paying oft" my law expenses
and getting my wardrobe together, and shall commence business
in ihiwnriijht real cKrncst on the 18th of October for a month,
when I go to London, and calculate, from the terms I get, that
I shall be enabled to realise between £450 and £500."
After several unimportant provincial engagements, Brooke
emerged once more from semi-obscurity at the City of London
Theatre, opening a protracted campaign on Monday, October 20,
with a performance of Sir Giles Over-reach. A great variety of
parts followed. On November 21 he played Brutus to the
Cassius of Jlydcr and the Mark Antony of J. F. Young. In
another letter to Morris, written from "21 J5ridgc Road" on the
previous lOili, we find liini stating: — "I am happy to say that
At the Citij of London Theatre. 233
I now begin to feel the benefit of having got rid of tlie
tremendous incubus that I think it would have taken me a
considerable portion of my life to have shaken off by paying
sixty shillingn in the pound. Matters look biigliter now, and I
look forward with some degree of pleasure to my future
career. Excuse this short epistle, and rest assured that I will
transmit as much as I can from time to time. Miss Jones
iwliose success in London, as Miami in The Green Hushes, lias
been very great) joins with me in kindest wishes to all at
home."
On Monday, December 8, a novelty was afforded City of
London playgoers by the pi'oduction of the First Part of Henri/ IW,
in which Brooke appeared as Hotspur to Young's Prince Henry
and Ryder's Falstatt'. A fortnight afterwards the engagement
was brought to a satisfactory close with a performance of WiJUain
Tell. Although there were nights on which the tragedian had
imbibed not wisely but too well, a wide toleration was shown to
his weaknesses, and nothing of moment occurred throughout to
mar the success of the campaign.
But, ah, the bitterness of these declining years ! Misfortunes
now crowded so thickly upon him that, with Macbeth, he might
well have said, " The cry is still ' they come.' " On the verge
of a great sorrow we find hnn writing to his friend, Mr. J. K.
Jackson, the Coroner of lielfast, conveying the intimation that
he was just concluding " a successful engagement in ilie
Oriental district of the great metropolis." "I am sorry to
say," he continues, " that my dear old mother has been
dangerously ill for the last three or four weeks, and I have
for some days past been in hourly expectation of a telegraph
(sic) to call me to Dublin, and I am happy to say that I this
morning received one to say that there was a change for the
better. I shall finish here on Monday next. On Tuesday I shall
play at the Theatre Koyal, Liverpool, for the benefit of the
' Lancashire Relief Fund,' and shall start early on tlie next
morning for Dublin, via Holyhead. I shall spend some time in,
Ireland, and hope to see you."
2U
Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
With the death of his mother, on Thursday, December 25
(four days after the above was written), departed the one great
controlhng influence in the tragedian's unhappy hfe. Recognising
his loss, he sought in some measure to fill the gap by espousing
Avonia Jones. The wedding took place very quietly, at
St. Philip's Church, Liverpool, on February 23, 1863. Had
Providence so ordained it, there can be little doubt that, in
course of time, the force of character possessed by this amiable
woman would have weaned him from his evil habits. But
stern Necessity parted them at the height of their connubial
bliss, depriving poor Brooke of his last ray of hope, and ruining
the prospects of a sweet youug life.
iiiiiiiiiiTiMiiii:virr';'iri'^''tTriiiiiiikiiJiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!jiiiiiiii[M^^
CHAPTER XII.
1863— 1S64.
Brooke's Decline and Fall — A Lurching, Incolierent Hamlet — In Ireland
with INI r. Bancroft — Plays Coriolanus at Dublin- The Drama in
Leamington — Avonia Jones's Eloquent Defence — Saddening Scenes
in the Provinces— A Memorable Saturday Night in Belfast and its
Sequel — How Brooke Dealt with an Extortionate Jarvey — His
Lamentable Fiasco at Sadlers Wells.
ALL speculation as to the future of Brooke was now at an
end. Gone were the freshness of youth, the great vigour,
and repeated misfortunes had only served to weaken a will
against which inroads had been made from an early period by
a too convivial temperament. It remains, however, sad as may
be the task, to pursue the chronicle to the end.
Accompanied by Mr. Bancroft, Mr. J. C. Cowper, and the
other members of the Dublin stock company (whose services
had been temporarily dispensed with at the Royal owing to
the advent of the Italian Opera season), Brooke paid a visit to
Cork early in the April of 1808. Appearing there during a
couple of weeks in a round of well-worn characters, his acting
evinced fitful gleams of its pristine lire ; but it was with feelings
of inexpressible sadness that his old friends noticed the great
change that had come upon him.
" It was quite plain," writes Mr. J. W. Flyun, of this
engagement — " It was quite plain to everyone that Brooke was
taking more stimulants than he ought to ; yet strange to say
his acting was as fine as ever (?). The people came in crow'ds
to see liim, and though some nights it was plain to the
audience, as well as to those behind the scenes, that the actor
236 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
was under some other influence than that of dramatic
inspiration, the actor bore his part superbly, and his acting had
all the old beauty. I have toll you how great he was in
Viiyhiiiis. Well, the night he played it daring that last
engagement he male a profound impression. In that last sad
scene, where Virginias comes upon the bronze urn contaniing
the ashes of his beloved daughter, Brooke's acting was
inexpressibly pathetic. As lie fell forward on the urn, clasping
it to his heart with a cry of sorrow, I glanced round and saw
tears trickling down the cheeks of those around me. On the
Monday following it was Hamlet, and, oh ! how sad a spectacle
it was! There could be no doubt Brooke was— how can I
Avhisper it — drunk ! The fact was not to be disgaised. A
feeling of sadness and gloom fell over the house — a crowded
house too — at the sight of this dismal fiasco, this lurching, ~
incoherent Hamlet. 1 was behind the scenes, and I knew when
Brooke was going on the stage that he had too much brandy
and that he would never pull through the play. I was sitting
ill the green-room during that beautiful scene with Ophelia,
commencing ' My lord, I have remembrances of yours,' etc.
Brooke was so bad I could not bear to witness his failure.
When the scene was over the charming young actress who
played Ophelia — Miss Sarah Thorne was her name — entered the
room in a state of painfal agitation. ' Isn't it too bad,
Mr. ■? ' she said, appealing to me. ' He has ruined the
scene, but I can't be angry with him, for he's the best-natured
fellow ever lived.' At that moment Brooke came into the
room, rather unsteadily, and, .shaking a chiding finger at Miss
Thorne, exclaimed — ' Ah, young lady, I canght you tripping
to-night ; you missed your lines ! ' This was adding insult to
injury, after he liad spoiled the scene himself by telescoping his
lines. Miss Tliorne was speecbless willi indignation. Sbc
looked at me and left the room in silence. ' I'm not quite all
right to-night,* Brooke said to luu lialf-apologetically. ' I'm
not quite well, and the people in front are a bit unreasonable
sometimes.'
Cork and Dnhlin. 237
"111 the graveyard scene poor Brooke was so palpably tipsy
that there were some sounds of disapprobation from the patient
audience — a hiss or some such sound. I was not looking on at
the time, but I believe Brooke came forward and addressed the
audience, saying, whether they blamed him or praised him,
applauded or hissed, he should always respect the judgment of
a Cork audience. Then the people were sorry, and sat out the
rest of the play in silence. In the last scene Brooke was so
unsteady that he liad to be propped up at the wing to get
through the fight in a sort of way. It was a sad performance,
indeed, and we were not sorry the curtain fell.'
Mr. Bancroft (the Horatio of the occasion) tells us that
Brooke never played Hamlet again. During his stay in Cork he
was very kind and hospitable to the younger members of the
company, and accompanied them on several hilarious excursions
to Blarney Castle and other places in the neighbourhood.
Pulling himself together, he returned to Dublin with the
other actors at the close of the opera season, and began an
engagement on April 27 at the old Hawkins Street Theatre,
which lasted to the IGtli of the following month. After playing
Othello, Hotspur, and a variety of other characters, Brooke
sprang a surprise on the playgoers of his native city by reviving
the seldom-acted Coriolanm on May IG, with himself in the
name-part. Rising equal to the occasion, the tragedian gave a
superbly classical rendering of the haughty tribune ; but,
somehow, although everything was in keeping, the novelty
failed to attract, and was only performed three times in all.
Awaking to the merits of the production when it was too late,
the playgoers of ])ublin signalised their approbation of Brooke's
acting as the great mob-hater, on the last night of the
engagement, by calling him before the curtain at the
termination of every act. Enthusiasm, indeed, ran so high on
this occasion that the tragedian had to indulge his admirers
A\iih two speeches, in which he feelingly referred to his early
successes there, and thanked his fellow-citizens for their ever
kindly welcome. 0\sing to his success Le returned to Dublin at
238 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
the latter end of the year, "when I played with him," writes
Mr. Bancroft, "as Cassio in Othello, Wellborn in New Way to
Pay Old Debts, Icilius in Viryinius:, De Mauprat in Richelieu,
and Leonardo Gonzago in The Wife. He was very ill during
the engagement, but, as always to me, delightful and charming
in his manner." Already, through the medium of the " Bancroft
Memoirs," the eminent actor has told us of Brooke's great
resemblance to Salviui. "His death, in Othello," he continues,
"always seemed to me as poetic in conception as it was pathetic
in execution. Acting, although not speaking, the closing words,
' Killing myself to die upon a kiss,' he staggered towards the
bed, dying as he clutched the heavy curtains of it, which, giving
way, fell upon his prostrate body as a kind of pall, disclosing, at
the same time, the dead form of Desdemona."
Shortly after leaving his native city, we find Brooke playing
two nights at the Clemens Street Theatre, Leamington, on the
second of which — when Sir Giles and O'Callaghan were the
attractions (?) — the receipts attained the magnificent sum of
17s. 6d. I Little wonder that the local Temple of Thespis was
subsequently converted into a Chapel of Dissent ! So lukewarm
were the inhabitants regarding theatrical matters, that the sight
of the great tragedian walking about the town in a shabby white
hat and velvet jacket, prematurely gratified the little curiosity
that had been aroused.
From this time onward occur significant gaps in the narrative,
which toll their sad story only too plainly. Towards the end
of May we find Avonia Jones writing to Morris, from London,
regretting that her husband had not been able to refund the
money lent to him during 1862 — a state of helplessness which
had given him much worry and annoyance. " Theatrical
business this year," we find her saying, "has been diabolically
bad, and has nearly ruined managers and actors. To pay for
daily living has been the utmost the best of them could do, and
this is Avliy you have not received your money long jigo. lie is
daily expecting the iirrival of two gentlemen from Melbourne
who have made liini a very lino oil'or to return to Australia.
Manchester and Liverpool. 239
They will advance him whatever money he will require, and he
Avill obtain sufticient to return you the seventy pounds, with his
earnest thanks and gratitude to you for assisting him in his
hour of need."
After Avonia Jones had fulfilled a twelve nights' engagement
at the Theatre Royal, Manchester, at the beginning of June, she
was joined by Brooke on the loth, when another twelve nights
ensued. Beyond the fact that ^Ir. Charles Calvert played lago
and Faulconbridge to Brooke's Othello and King John, there is
little to chronicle in connection with this sojourn. It is worthy
of note, however, that the Miss Stanhope whose name appears
in the bills opposite Desdemona and other leading characters is
said to have been Miss Francis Sarah (Fanny) Brooke, younger
sister of the tragedian, who occasionally travelled with him about
this period.
Late in July, we find ]\Ir. and Mrs. Brooke acting at the
Royal Amphitheatre, Liverpool, under Copeland. For his benefit
on the 24 th the tragedian played Adrastus to the Ion of his
wife and the Clemanthe of Miss Fanny Addison, and appeared as
Pierce O'Hara m the afterpiece of TItr Irish Attorncij. Treating
of the important revival of ('niiibdinc on the following night,
with excellent scenery and accessories, Tltc Lircrpool Ihiibj J\)st
expresses its surprise that a play offering so many admirable
opportunities for the display of sound acting was so seldom
seen in the theatre. " The discussion between Posthumus and
Jachimo on the constancy of Imogen, was delivered by Mr.
Brooke and Mr. Cowper in a manner every way worthy of the
elegance of the text, .... and in the scene in which the
wager is proved to have been won, Mr. Brooke's passage, from
the easy confidence of the grave but polished man of the world,
to the agony of the husband bereft by a ribald's lust of his
wife's purity and repute, was splendidly effective The
battle scenes introduced Mr. Brooke once or twice in passages of
a declamatory character in which his noble elocution was most
masterfully displayed, and led up to the great conclusion — the
ensemble scene at the end of the fifth act. Here Mr. Brooke
240 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
electrified the audience by another grand display of passion, and
the gradual unfolding of the dcnoiiement brought the play to a
placid and satisfactory end Mr. Brooke was several
times recalled. He was in splendid voice, looked noble enough
to be Leonatus, and acted as well as ever he did in his life.
Miss Jones, mah/re her artificiality of voice and
monotony of tone, was an excellent Imogen, and her dresses,
as well as those of Mr. Brooke, were models of taste and
appropriateness. We trust Ci/nihcline will be repeated and
become popular ; the favour in Avhich it was last night received
was an encouraging sign of reviving dramatic taste and
intelligence."
" You will be sorry to hear," writes Brooke to Morris from
Liverpool on the 23rd, by way of apology for not discharging
his obligations — "you will be sorry to hear that business, as
regards our profession, has been far from good throughout the
length and breadth of our land. And in a letter of Wyndham's,
the other day, he says that daring the whole of his career,
both as actor and manager, he never knew the Theatre to be,
as it were, so completely deserted, and does not know to what
particular cause he can attribute it." In conclusion, we find
him saying, " I have abandoned all idea for the present of
returning to Australia, and think it better to wait till Kean has
finished there."
Ill-luck continued to follow him with irritating persistency.
He had arranged to play a fortnight in Jersey early in August,
and to repair thence to Douglas, Isle of Man, for three
weeks ; but the theatre in the former island was burnt down on
July 31, and the other, strange to say, closed its doors a few
days after. The outlook became so unpromising that poor
I>rooke fell into a state of collapse, and, as usual in :juch
moodH, souglit oblivion in tlio brandy-bottle. He grew nervous
and despondent, and seldom slept at niglits witliout a lighted
candle by his bfdside. Worried by an expensive lawsuit, and
unable to extract any definite promise from the tragedian, Mr.
James Morris had in tlic meantime applied himself to Avonia
Some Interestinfi Extracts. 241
Jones in regard to his loiu of £70— certainly too long
unrefunded. In the course of her reply, from "21 Bridge
Road, St. John's Wood," on August 9, we find the lady
saying — " Pardon my not having answered your kind letter
before, but I have been very ill, brought on by over-study and
too much hard work. I had perforce to take the two weeks
left open by the Jersey fire, as a season of rest, and hope to
start again feeling much better. I left Mr. Brooke playing in
L'pool ; but I assure you it is very wearying to have to
act week after week for a mere living, sometimes not even that.
It takes all my resolution to keep my spirits up." In a second
letter from the same address, on the 19 th following, she says —
" Prospects in England are very dull for the coming winter.
I would give worlds to be able to go to America. 1 have had
most brilliant offers, and, though a young beginner, I left a fine
reputation behind me, to which my English reputation being
now added, and no earthly opposition there, I should make a
fortune. But what is the good of wishing ? I have a large
family (mother, aunt, sister, and her two children, nine and six
years of age, beside, of course, house and servants) all under
my care ; and I could not get there unless I had £800 ; and
though I could soon pay it back with interest, despite the heavy
percentage, I could as easily fly to heaven without wings as
borrow such a sum. So I must needs submit with the best
possible grace to the anxiety of getting a mere living. Mr.
Brooke is still in L'pool, but not acting. I shall not be with
him for the next few months. I am sure he will prove to you
that all the kind things you have said of him are true."
A third letter, written six days afterwards, is replete with
interest. AVhile showing that the tragedian was discreet enough
to hide his failings from his young wife, it eflectually gives
the lie to the scandal-mongers who have hinted at estrangement.
"I received your letter to-day," she informs Mr. Morris, "and
hasten to answer it, to correct a false impression that you are
labouring under. Whoever has told you that Mr. Brooke is
dissipated, or, as you express it, indulging in ' habits too well
242 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
known,' has told you a wilfal falsehood. During two years I
have never known him to disappoint the public, or be in such a
condition that his nearest friend might blush for him. I can
see his faults quicker than anyone else, and would be the first
to reprove him. You should not blame him for his non-success,
theatrically, since his return to England. You should rather
admire the indomitable will that has made him persevere
through every difficulty, and yet to stand pre-eminent as one
of the first actors of his day. You should lay the blame, where
it is due, to the degraded taste for the drama that now
characterises the English public. They turn aside from all that
is pure, legitimate, and good, to satisfy their morbid cravings
after the sensational drama. Put the ' Ghost ' that is now all
the rage in London into Hamlet, and full houses will be the
result Mr. Charles Kean openly said he went to
Australia because he could do nothing here, and during his
farewell engagement in Liverpool he and Mrs. Kean and the
party he always has travelling with him played down to
£8. These are facts I know and could prove'. If newspaper
criticism could make a fortune I should be one of the
wealthiest women in England. True, they have given me
a standing as a first-class tragedienne, but that don't fill
my pockets. In the same way with Mr. Brooke. He is pre-
eminent in legitimate business and fully acknowledged so, but
put him in a sensation drama, he would be lost. Heaven
forbid I should see him so degrade himself; I prefer, far
better, to see him struggle as he does now. This debt to
you is a source of great anxiety to liim ; in fact, any debt
Avould be, for he is an honourable man. Once before ni his life
he was compelled to go through the Bankruptcy Court, but on
his return from America ho paid every farthing that he had
owed. Have you ever in all your life known a time that, work
as you will, everything would go wrong with you? If you have,
you can understand my meaning; if not, you may thank Heaven
for saving you from an over present, ceaseless misery. As for
myself, if Mr. Brooke bad a nulHon I should go to America.
Northampton. 243
My mother is very homesick, and it is tlic least I can do to
gratify her if 1 can possibly manage it. Pardon my writing
thus freely, but I cannot bear that you should be under a false
impression, or think ill of one who has ever looked on you as his
earliest and best friend, and has taught me to do the same."
The fact that Morris's insinuation had stable basis derogates
not a whit, under the circumstances, from the simple eloquence
of this pathetic outburst. A couple of months or so later, the
writer in Tl>c Amtralian Mtir/azine, whose reminiscences we have
already laid under contribution, chanced to visit Northampton,
and, gratified by the announcement that his old stage hero was
to play there three nights, repaired in due season to the dingy,
tumble-down-looking place which did duty as the Theatre Royal.
"The house," he says, "the dress circle excepted, was full; the
pittites solid, respectable looking people, wearing, most of them,
that expectant critical look which Charles Lamb regarded as the
true mark of the old playgoer, but which is now as extinct as
the dodo. The prompter's bell tinkles, the green curtain ascends,
every eye is fixed upon the stage, Northampton is forgotten; we
are in old Venice ; yonder stands Brabantio's mansion ; down
the street in earnest discourse come lago and Roderigo. How
we listened ; how we watched each movement ! It was worth
while to do both, for though only twenty-three years have gone
since then, such actors are as extinct as such audiences. Little,
indeed, did they owe to dress, still less to their scenic
surroundings ; but they were masters of that lost art, the
colloquial rendering of blank verse — art, which not all their
wealth, nor all their liberal patronage of the theatre, can secure
for present day playgoers The scene changes ; we
are in front of the Sagittary ; Othello and lago enter in
converse. How the house roared out its welcome. There
was the noble Moor ; the manly form, the leonine bearing,
the well-poised head, which I remembered so well. Somewhat
stouter, perhaps, but in all else unchanged. So for a brief
space I thought ; but as the din subsided and the dialogue
went on, I felt that something was -wi'ong. On the faces near
244 Gustavics Vaughan Brooke.
I could see wondering bewilderment ; but before I could arrive
at any conclusion the brief scene ended. Next came the
council chamber, with the Duke and the magnificoes ; to them
enter Brabantio, Othello, and their following. I could now see
that the looks of bewilderment had strangely passed from the
faces of the audience to those of the actors. Vae victis ! Alas
for fallen greatness, though but the mimic greatness of the
stage. Every man is his own Parcae and weaves his own destiny.
The simulacrum of the Othello I remembered stood before me ;
the informing spirit, that strange something akin to genius which
aforetime glowed in the eye, thrilled in the voice, was no longer
there. Ichabod ! the glory had departed. Very touching, very
pathetic were the reverential attempts of the actors to aid their
fallen brother. All in vain. At last lago stepped forward and
made a simple, manly appeal for the fallen star ; beautiful was
the reticent loyalty shown by this brother of the craft. There
would be a short delay to enable a substitute to dress ; then
the play would proceed. So the curtain fell ; my last sight of
the idol of my boyhood was the vision of a helpless man, head
sunk upon his chest, arms banging listless, form swaying
backwards and forwards. With a big lump in my throat and
deep pity in my heart I left the theatre. The real tragedy I
had witnessed left me in no mood for mimic tragedy."
From every quarter came much the same tale. But while
Brooke's popularity was great, and the audience generally
forgiving, the iteration of such incidents did not conduce to full
houses or re-engagements. " I remember going into an
important theatre in the north one night," says the " Old-
Fashioned Playgoer," '* when G. V. Brooke was playing in
Love's Sacrifice. Meeting the manager — one of Brooke's firmest
and oldest friends — I said, '1 understand Gussy is rather
to-night?' 'Well,' said he, 'he's fu(/hli/ mysterious'; and he
was HO, indeed. In the earlier scenes there was notliing very
active, and he could not ' pull himself together.' All who were
playing with bim got tlieir cues with perfect safety, but the
public knew very little of the sense of the speeches. I have
Belfast. 245
seen liim play Othello in an even worse state. But Othello
always kept him awake while on the stafre. In the wings he
would be sometimes in an absolutely somnolent condition. But
at his cue ho would rouse himself by an effort of will most
painful to witness, the muscular development of the neck being
worked in a violent manner as the head was righted and the
full stature of the man attained. The struggle infused great
vigour with the opening lines of the scene ; but if you are told
that Brooke, or any one else, ' never acted better in his life' on
such occasions, don't believe it. The reaction is melancholy and
usually comes before the scene is over."
Towards the end of Mr. T. C. King's starring engagement,
at Belfast, Brooke appeared there for one night, on Thursday,
December 24, as Othello, to his brother tragedian's lago. Much
to the disappointment of a large audience (attracted by the
announcement of Brooke's last appearance " prior to his depart-
ure for Australia") the old favourite was in very bad voice, and
apologised for his deficiencies in saying " Good-bye" at the
conclusion. Owing, however, to his characteristic irresolution
these leave-takings — here, there, and everywhere — were becoming
farcical.
Returning to Belfast on Monday, January 11, 1864, he
opened what was to prove an extraordinary campaign by giving
an indifferent rendering of Othello. A severe cold had played
havoc with his voice, and matters were not improved by his
resorting to the old consoler. Acting Sir Giles, however, on the
second night with much of his pristine power, he was honoured
with a call at the close of the trying climax, and on appearing
before the curtain apologised to the audience for first picking up
the sword which had fallen near the footlights from the maniac's
hand. "It is," he said, "a reminiscence of Edmund Kean.
With it he played the part in the tragedy which you have just
seen." Although his acting continued to present marked
inequalities, notlnng material happened until the following
Saturday evening, llichclieu had been announced, and pit and
gallery were crammed to repletion. A protracted delay in the
246 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
raising ot" the curtain caused considerable irritation at the
outset, and siguificantly heralded what was to follow. But,
drunk or sober, Brooke was too much the spoiled child of
Belfast playgoers to meet with anything but a favourable
receptioji when once the play began. As the first act proceeded,
however, it became painfully apparent that some other force
besides histrionism was lending realism to the decrepitude of
the Cardinal. Bemused with liquor, the tragedian appears to
have indulged in occasional snatches of sleep, awaking ever and
anon with a start to mumble his lines in somewhat incoherent
fashion. All went well, however, until the juncture where Julie
de Mortemar impassionately addresses her venerable protector.
Brooke had now grown completely lethargic, and not all the
efforts of the prompter could rouse him to action. Precisely at
this moment, when the calmest silence reigned all over the house,
an unlucky pittite, whose condition was equally happy with that of
the tragedian, made some sotto coce remark which raised a vulgar
laugh in the neighbourhood. The ears which were deaf to the
counsel of the prompter at once caught this unwelcome sound.
Rising to his feet with some difficulty, Brooke advanced indignantly
to the footlights, and said — "Ladies and gentlemen, if you wish me
to retire I shall do so. (Cries of 'No, no,' and applause.) I want
my patrons to protect me from insult." (Cries of " We will," and
" Put out the ruffian in the pit.") A scene of indescribable
disorder ensued. Notwithstanding the efforts of a couple of
policemen the offending pittite was at length forcibly ejected
into the street, and the house settled down as best it could to
enjoy (?) the remainder of the scene. During the second act the
pit and gallery appeared at loggerheads, the one hissing vigorously
while the other applauded. But the patience of both became
utterly exhausted through the long wait whicli followed, and
under their united protests the orchestra soon deemed it advisable
to retire with precipitation. Meantime lirooke's condition had
not improved, and when the curtain rose it was to exhibit the
Cardinal rechning helplessly in his chair oblivious of all
surroundings. >hiiiy of the audience got up to leave, while
Fallen Greatness. 2A.1
others, more resentful and audacious, hissed. Exerting all lii.s
energies Brooke succeeded in arousing himself, and, advancing,
said — " Ladies and gentlemen, I have been so much accustomed
to the courtesies of the Belfast public that I really cannot put
up with this." Accompanied by cries of "It is not at you they
hissed ; come back, Mr. Brooke," he then bowed and withdrew.
Amid the uproar that followed, Mr. Stinton made his appearance,
and addressing the house, said—" Ladies and gentlemen, I am
compelled to appear before you in the absence of Mr. Webb.
(Applause.) I am grieved to say that Mr. G. Y. Brooke will
not again appear to-night. (Slight hisses, and cries of ' Go and
get us back our money.') Gentlemen, what can I do? We
throw ourselves on your kind indulgence." (A voice — "You'll
have it." Cheers and hisses.) During the afterpiece there were
frequent interruptions, with cries of " Bring out Brooke "; and at
length, more sorrowful than angry, the remnants of the audience
dispersed.
Brooke's appearance in Macbeth had already been announced
for the following Monday evening, but the news of this painful
exhibition occasioned the immediate return of Mr. Henry Webb,
the lessee, from Dublin, and with it a complete change of bill.
Compelled to take notice of Brooke's conduct by a withering
report in the leading local journal, this gentleman announced
that the tragedian would not be permitted to appear again under
his management until he had purged himself of his offence by
a public apology. Two days afterwards the following card was
inserted among the advertisements in the Bel/ant News- Letter: —
" Mk. G. V. Brooke considers it an imperative duty he
owes the general public (which has through life been his truest
friend) to endeavour to explain the extraordinary scene that
occurred hi the Theatre Royal, Belfast, on Saturday evening,
16th inst. Severe illness and annoyance were the cause of what
took place, provoked by an open insult from some misguided
individual in the audience. Mr. Brooke is now residing on the
scene of his early triumphs, and has been constantly engaged on
his professional career without interval for fourteen years. He
248 Gustavus VaugJian Brooke.
feels that lie requires rest, and he thinks it Avould be very-
injudicious on his part, and an insult to the pubhc, to appear
in Belfast again ; but with the most heartfelt gratitude for the
favours hitherto heaped on him by a Belfast public, and with
the truest and warmest wishes for the prosperity of this great
commercial town, and with no small amount of deep regret, he
therefore announces his Farewell^
Nothing could have been better calculated to enlist the
sympathies of the local public. Several friends who knew that
poor Brooke had been nursing himself carefully ever since that
dreadful night, made it their business to plead with Mr. Webb
for a renewal of the engagement. At once burying the hatchet,
the genial lessee and famous Dromio announced on Saturday the
23rd that Brooke had tendered his services for a free benefit
to the General Hospital on the following Wednesday. Conse-
quently, on Monday the 25th, the tragedian returned to the assault
as Richelieu, acted magnificently, and was cheered to the echo by
an immense audience. " For years," said The Belfast Neus-Letter,
"there have been no such demonstrations of unqualified approbation
as were heard last night in our ably conducted theatre, and
seldom could they have been better deserved." After the General
Hospital had benefited to the extent of some sixty pounds by the
night set apart on its behalf, a succession of good houses followed.
Appealing personally to his friends on Friday the 29th (when
The Wife and Eis Last Lcr/s were in the bill), Brooke, in response
to a call at the close, made the following speech: — "Ladies and
Gentlemen — Will you allow me to address you? I really do not
know how to thank you sufficiently for the great compliment
you have paid me in being present here this evening in such
extraordinary numbers. (Applause.) I assure you that I appreciate
your kindness in a manner that I cannot express. (Cheers, and
cries of ' You deserve it all.') No one can more deeply regret
tlian I do the circumstances which caused a disappointment
during the first week of my engagement. (Cries of ' It's all right,
Brooke,' • Never mind it,' and loud cheers.) When I look back
and think of the approbation and encouragement which you
AlVs Well that Ends Well. 240
invariably aftbrded me during the early portion of my professional
career, and when I now look around me and see myself
surrounded hy many personal friends and patrons, I have reason
to believe that the good feeling, and I might almost term it
friendship — (applause) — that should exist between a favourite actor
and the public who patronise him, and which I congratulate myself
I possess in this town, is more firmly cemented than ever. (Cheers.)
There is one thing, ladies and gentlemen, that I can assure you of
most sincerely, and that is, that go where I may I shall always
think with feelings of intense pleasure of my career in Belfast."
Despite occasional voice failure lirooke was now in good
fettle, and writes to his friend Morris from " 25 Corn Market "
on February 1 — " You may have perceived by the papers that I
have been frightening, and absolutely mesmerising, the ' good
people ' m the ' northern metropolis.' I have not as yet
determined as to what time I shall leave for Australia, but
think it will be the mail after next, ' Overland Route".' " Some
idea of the respect entertained for the tragedian in Belfast,
in the face of his recent escapade, may be gathered fi'om the
following incident. During his stay he had occasion one day to
hire a jaunting-car for some hours, and on proceeding to settle
up was surprised at the exorbitant charge made by the driver,
who was well aware of the identity of his fare. After
remonstrating in vain, Brooke paid the obstinate jarvey what he
demanded, and at once lodged a complaint with the Police
Committee of the Town Council. A careful investigation of the
case followed, with the result that the brazen-faced scamp was
deprived of his license for a period of three months.
After playing Coriolanus, Jaques, Hotspur, and a variety of
other characters, our hero terminated an unusually long
engagement at Belfast on February 13 — but not before he had
taken another farewell benefit, and indulged in the inevitable
leave-takings. Principally supported by Miss Louise Diddear he
opened a four weeks' sojourn at the Queen's Theatre, Dublin,
on the following Monday, and besides repeating ail his old
successes, gave two performances of Cassius in Julius Ccesar,
250 Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
Wavering in his resolution to make an immediate return to
the Colonies, Brooke now determined upon once more challenging
the opinion of the Metropolis. But the doors of the West-end
theatres were barred firmly against him, and the best he could
do was to arrange for his appearance at Sadler's Wells — an
outlying theatre which had lost all repute with the departure of
Phelps. ^liss Marriott, who had been in occupation of the old
theatre earlier in the year, opened it again under her own
management on Monday, April 18, with a revival of The
Winter's Tale. Brooke was the Leontes, and the manageress
herself appeared as Hermione. On the following Saturday night
the tragediaii played Shylock for the benefit of the Shakespeare
fund. It is noteworthy that the performance at the Winter
Theatre, New York, on the same date was for the same object,
the play being lioineo and Juliet, with Edwin Booth and Avonia
Jones as the hapless lovers. Short-lived, however, was the
Sadler's Wells venture, a succession of bad houses bringing the
campaign to an untimely end at the beginning of May. " It
was a lamentable engagement throughout," writes Miss Marriott,
" for Brooke was not only out of voice, but he was not in a fit
state to go on the stage any evening to do justice to himself or
those about him."
\J ->vji>'
.^■r J '
CHAPTER XIII.
1864-1865.
Sale of Brooke's Gold and Silver Plate— On his Last Leys — Barnstorming
in the Provinces — Macbeth in a Fix — A Strange Dream— Brooke at
Leeds with John Coleman — Itetnrn of Avonia Jones and George
Coppin — The Tragedian Finally Decides to Depart for Austialia —
His Last Dublin Kngagement -Othello and lago Doubled— (Jus's
Legacy — Brooke's Last Engagement — Edward Terry's Reminiscences
— An Oddly-plirased Bill — Tlie Tragedian says (iood-bye and takes
his Last Look at the Footlights — Classic Traditions of the Old
Belfast Theatre.
WRITING to his friend, Mr. David Allen, of Belfast, from
" 64 York Street, Lambeth," on September 3, we find
Brooke saying — " Sadler's Wells was a failure, so far a?
concerned pecmiiary arrangements, and since that I have done
nothing. Theatrical matters have been miserably dull, and I
have been dragging out lately an anxious and precarious
existence. I am resolved now to make another struggle. ^Vill
you, like a good fellow, let me know if the theatre in Belfast
is open, or likely to be so, as I should like to go there. Your
conduct to me when leaving Belfast was kind and generous, and
I should be sorry, indeed, to forfeit your estimation. What I
can do I will do to re-establish myself in your good opinion."
Not the least mortifying of the "sad crosses" to which he
goes on to refer was the sale of all his gold and silver plate
(valued at £800), at Messrs. Christie, Manson, and Woods', on
Wednesday, June 8— an event evoking invidious comment in
the morning papers.
According to Brooke's own story, it appears that on
departing from the Colonies he was compelled to leave all his
treasured presentations as security for debt in the hands of one
252 Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
of bis principal creditors. Early in the year this gentleman
placed all the plate under the care of a friend who was
returning to England, with instructions to deliver to the owner
immediately on arrival. This he had omitted to do, preferring,
as he had run short of funds, to pledge the whole at a leading
pawnbroker's in the Strand for £447. Not long afterwards this
worthy died suddenly, and to Brooke's great astonishment he
received a notification from the holders that the plate would be
returned to its proper owner on payment of the loan and interest.
As he was utterly unable to do this, the spontaneous tributes of
three continents were knocked down to the highest bidder in the
auction-room, and ultimately found their way into the melting-pot.
His promises to Mr. Allen notwithstanding, Brooke's habits
showed little sign of improvement with the resumption of his
professional work. Sinking lower and lower, he experienced the
utmost difficulty in making engagements with any but the most
inferior provincial houses. After giving two dramatic readings
in Lewes and another in Eastbourne on behalf of a Roman
Catholic charitv, he returned to Belfast earlv in October, and
played there successfully for three weeks. During the engage-
ment he alternated Othello and lago with Mr. J. F. "Warden,
and drew a crowded house on his benefit night to see his Sir
Patrick O'Plenipo in The Irish Ambassador. So faithful indeed
did the Belfast pubhc remain to him that it is quite in keeping
that his last appearance on the stage sliould be imperishably
associated with tlie annals of North of Ireland theatricals. To
this afifection the Belfast Xeivs-Letter, in dealing with his
reappearance on local boards on January 10, 1805, bears
eloquent testimony, and adds — " It was particularly gratifying to
find that, on the first night of his re-engagement, Mr. lirooke's
mellow, manly voice betrayed none of that huskincss which
indisposition and exposure to cold never fail to beget, and that
its gifted owner appeared to be in the most robust health."
Dragging out a precarious existence, poor Brooke flitted here,
there, and everywhere, in the endeavour to obtain engagements.
Hanky, Dumfries, Wliitehaven, Durham, Sunderland— all were
Last Engagement in Manchester. 253
visited in their turn, with unsatisfactory results. Early in June
he appeared for one night as Othello, in a wooden theatre, in
Carlisle, and, although announced to perform in The Stranr/er
on the following evening, was so disgusted with his first
experience that he departed from the town at the eleventh hour,
to the intense disappointment of a crowded house. A visit to
Manchester followed; and as his name was still one to conjure
with there among a certain section of playgoers, his twelve
nights' engagement at the Queen's proved fairly successful.
Supported principally by Miss Julia Seaman and Mr. John
Pritchard, his nightly reception in the old repertory was such as
to momentarily revive his drooping health and spirits. His
confirmed admirer, Mr. Dinsmore, was behind the scenes on the
night of his last appearance in Manchester (Saturday, July 8),
and was standing very close to the tragedian when, as Macbetli,
he came off in the murder scene to receive the smeared daggers.
According to stage exigencies the time allowed the actor to
prepare himself at this juncture is necessarily brief. As chance
would have it, Brooke's dresser had left the theatre a few
minutes previously to get his evening dram, and only returned
in the niche of time. Any other "world-famous" tragedian
would have annihilated the unfortunate wight with a glance,
but Brooke merely remarked in a sorrowful undertone, " John,
why do you leave me at this critical moment'? See the position
you place me in!" It is related, on somewhat doubtful
authority, that Macready, on once finding himself in a similar
predicament owing to the want of paint to smear the daggers,
incontinently dashed the dresser's head against the wall, obtaining
from his nose a sufficient gush of blood to meet all requirements.
On the same evening, according to Mr. Dinsmore, two of
the tragedian's oldest friends went behind the scenes to shake
hands and have a chat. "How are you, Gussy?'' said one.
"Ah!" he replied, "bad, bad," working his fingers nervously
about his throat, and continuing in a hoarse voice— "the taste
for the legitimate drama has fallen very low in l^igland ; but I
am going to Australia, where I shall close my hands on ten
25-1: Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
thousand pounds." He uttered the words with considerable
force, accompanied by a vigorous clenching of the right hand.
Residing in the house of his old dresser, Healey, during his
stay in Manchester, Brooke appeared nervous and fretful, and
looked upon several petty accidents as ill-omens. The very last
night he slept there he created great consternation among the
inmates by shouting dreadfully in his sleep. His friends at
once rushed to the bedroom, only to learn from the tragedian of
a dream wherein he found himself struggling in the water,
fighting for sheer life, with the danger so vivid that in his
agony he screamed and awoke. This he took as a presage of
coming ill, and down to the hour of his embarking for Melbourne
remained apprehensive of some disaster on the voyage. Based
as is the relation of this incident on evidence thoroughly sound
and unimpeachable, it may be as well to point out to the
incredulous that analagous cases can easily be cited. Taking
only one, it will be remembered that Eliot Warburton, the
novelist, gave a vivid description in " Darien," his last book, of
the death of one of his leading characters on board a burning
ship ; precisely the fate which he himself met not long after,
when upwards of a hundred souls perished in the Amman.
During Brooke's engagement at the Queen's, Mr. John
Coleman was acting at the Royal pending the completion of his
new theatre in Leeds. Calling upon his brother actor, our hero
explained that he was on the verge of appearing at the minor
theatre in that town, and begged of him to give his services
there on his benefit night. This proving agreeable, it was at
once arranged that Othello and lago should be the parts
sustained by the two tragedians. AVhat followed is best related
in the words of ^\v. Coleman. "Upon arriving in Leeds to
rehearse," he says, "I saw no signs of him till the fifth act of
the play, when lie informed me that his wife and George
Coppin would arrive in Liverpool; the one was returning from
America, the cither was coining from Australia for the express
purpose of re-engaging ]3rooke and rehabilitating him in tlio
colony.
In Leeds ivifh John Coleman. 255
" As usual, when left to himself, poor ' Gus' had committed
muueroua indiscretions. Amongst others, lie had involved
himself in an unfortunate connection, and was quite unmanned
in contemplating the situation in which his folly had placed him.
"When I got to the theatre at an early hour that night,
to my astonishment 1 found him (for we occupied the same
room) already dressed for lago. Except that he seemed a little
more dignified than usual, there was nothing remarkahle ahout
him ; it was only when we got on the stage together that I found
he was Bacchi lAcnm ! My impression is that, had he been acting
Othello no one would have discovered his infirmity ; indeed, it
was impossible for him to go wrong in the Moor, but he had
never mastered the words of lago textually, and was afraid of
being caught tripping with the text. The continued effort of
memory muddled him, and, unfortunately, let the audience into
the secret. He stuttered and stammered, and even mixed up
his soliloquies in the most mal a propos manner. Instead of
saying, at the end of the first act —
' I have't ; it is engendered ; hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light !'
he substituted the conclusion of the soliloquy in the next act —
' 'Tis Iiere, but yet confused —
Knavery's plain face is never seen till used !'
whereupon some over-zealous Shakespearian in the pit blandly
exclaimed, ' No ; it is you who are confused, Mr. l^rooke.' This
interruption disconcerted Gustavus and put him entirely wrong.
In the quarrel scene of the second act he broke down altogether.
The most notable feature of his picturesque costume was a
breastplate of white buckskin, elaborately prepared with pipe-
clay, after the fashion in which soldiers' belts are got up.
When the interruption occurred which led to the collapse,
Brooke advanced amidst a tempest of yells and groans, and
evidently getting a little mixed in his metaphors, and under the
impression that he was acting for my benefit instead of my
acting for his, exclaimed, ' You common cry of curs, whose
256 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
breath I hate, I dou't care the cracking of a rotten gooseberry
for you ; I am here to-night to do honour to the legitimate
drama in the person of my friend, John Coleman, and I can
lay my hand upon my heart and say ' and as he suited the
action to the word there arose a pillar of pipe-clay which filled
the stage, and evoked, I think, the loudest roar of laughter I
ever heard in a theatre.
"After this I persuaded him to drive home, under charge
of my man, while the stock leading man finished the part of
lago ; then putting on steam I rushed through the last three
acts to the best of my ability.
"I had arranged for Gustavus to be brought back just as
the curtain fell. During the interval he had tubbed and soda-
watered; and ' Kichard was himself again.' He was in mourning
for the death of his mother, and was clad from head to foot in
black, black-gloved, &c. I thought I had never seen him
look so diitinffue. Placing him hastily at the proscenium wing,
on the left-hand side, I said, ' Now, Gus, will you trust yourself
entirely to me ? '
" 'I will do anything you wish me to do, John,' he replied.
" 'Stand here then,' said I, 'listen to what I am about to
say, and, for God's sake, don't stir hand or foot till I bid you.'
Then in response to the call T went before the curtain, and
addressed the audience thus : —
"'Your voices arc very eloquent on my behalf, let me
entreat you to use them a little on behalf of my friend. For
the past week I luive looked forward to this night with pleasure,
but the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance with you was as
nothing compared to the honour I anticipated in acting this
part beside Gustavus Brooke, whose Othello, I considered in my
boyhood one of the greatest achievements of the English stage.
Well, to-night has been a great grief and a great disappointment
to us all ; but if you know the cause I am sure you would
condone all the shortcomings which have occurred. No one in
this building is more conscious than my poor friend that he has
failed in his duty to the poet, to you, and above all, to himself;
Coppin Relurnn to Eiifjlnnd. 257
but you, who are indebted to him for so many pleasures of
memory, you who have so often seen him at his best and
brightest, can well afford to be generous now. He is about to
leave us for a distant country ; in all human probability we
shall never see his face nor hear bis voice agaii\; he hears
every word I am saying, he is anxious to be reconciled to you ;
you cannot, will not, must not part from him in anger — I ask
you, for the sake of old times, to give him one parting cheer,
one parting God-speed.'
" As I spoke the last words I stepped to the wing and led
him to the centre of the stage. Then occurred a scene which I
shall never forget so long as I live ; the house rose like one
man and cheered with a mighty voice that shook the building
to its base. Men and women waved their hats and handkerchiefs,
and sobbed and cried aloud. He was himself carried away by
the general emotion ; clasping my hand fervently, he made an
attempt to speak, but I plucked his arm under mine and we
retired together amidst the continued acclamations. As we
passed out of sight of the audience, he fell weeping on my
shoulder ; then he gasped out ' God bless you, old fellow ! '
"We had five minutes' serious talk before we said good-bye, and
when we parted that night we parted for ever."
Powerless to rid himself of the limpet-like attachment of
the designing person to whom Mr. Coleman alludes, Brooke
buried himself in obscurity with the news of his wife's return
from America. She succeeded, however, in uneartlnng him at
Cardiff, and at once bore him away to meet George Coppin,
wbo was about to depart for the Colonies after fulfilling a
lengthened engagement throughout the States mth Mr. and Mrs.
Charles Kean. Some months previously Brooke had entered
upon an arrangement to reappear in Melbourne under the
management of liarry Sullivan, who was then fast assuming the
position which the other had attained only to lose again.
Lacking confidence, however, he loitered, sank lower and lower,
and it was only with difficulty that Coppin, on their coming
together at Leicester, could induce him to accept an engagement
s
258 Gustavus VangJian Brooke.
of two years in the Colonies. Yielding to the earnest solicitations
of bis wife (who found herself unable to accompany him owing
to a hard and fast arrangement which her agent bad concluded
for her appearance at the Surrey Theatre), Brooke at length
agreed to follow Coppin to Melbourne in the London . And
the fact that she herself bad chosen the vessel, was among the
saddening things that afterwards weighed so disastrously upon
poor Avonia Jones's mind.
Completing the circle of his professional career well-nigh
where he had begun it, Brooke made his last appearances on the
stage in the land of his birth. During bis penultimate
engagement at the Queen's Theatre, Dublin (November 20 —
December 2) he had for leading support another star in the
person of Miss Pauncefort. Treating of his opening performance
as Sir Giles Over -reach, Sdunderss News-Lctter, in the course of
a laudatory notice presenting a curious contrast to most of the
early Dublin criticisms, says — " The genius of this great actor
eminently fits him for the part, and he has made it one of
his most important characters. Mr. Brooke portrayed the
ambitious, unscrupulous, passionate knight last evening in a
manner that elicited tlie warmest marks of approval from all
parts of the house. His first appearance was the signal for
a loud and enthusiastic welcome, and, as the plot of the piece
developed, and each incident called forth his powers, he was
rewarded with the warmest marks of approval by the auditory.
The upper part of the house was crammed to excess, and the
pit was fairly filled, but the boxes, owing probably to the
inclemency of the weather, were but sparsely attended."
Notwithstanding Brooke's solemn promise to Coleman on
leaving Leeds, that lie would turn over a new leaf, we iind
him iniljibing pretty freely during his last sojourn in Dublin.
Under these circumstances it was natural that a modicum of
the eleven or twelve characters represented tlicre should have
l)ut inadequate interpretation. With tlic tragedian at his worst
on December 1, when oihrlla was in the bill, Mr. .1. F. Warden,
wlio came specially from Jielfast to play lago, found himself
Brooke and T. C. Kirifj. 259
in the novel and extremely trying position of liaving to play
two characters at once. The situation can best be explained in
the following manner: —
layo — " For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn, I think that
he is honest." (Pauses and looks at Othello, who is trying to
steady himself. Then, after the Moor has made a vain attempt
to raise his sunken head) — " You would say, 'I think so, too.' "
And so it continued to the end. With poor lago thus visited
for his sins it is little wonder that Mr. Warden still retains the
keenest recollection of the exhaustion following upon his labours.
Early in the afternoon an incident had occurred, admirably
typical of Brooke's unbounded good fellowship and camaraderie,
particulars of which were first given to the world by ^Ir. John
Coleman, on the authority of Mr. T. C. King, in a sympathetic
contribution to the ShakeHpearian Show Hook. Owing to the
fact that one or two serious errors of detail crept into the
original narrative, we deem it expedient to relate the story
from our own standpoint.
During Brooke's sojourn in Dublin he was grieved to find
bis old comrade-at-arms, T. G. King, lying there seriously
ill and with but slender chances of recovery. No matter
how tiring the rehearsal or seductive the pleasures of tlie
moment, Gus. never allowed a day to escape without putting in
an appearance at the bedside of the sick man. Flowers, fruits,
wine — the best that money could purchase— were all in their
turn lavished upon the invalid. Accompanied to King's
apartments on the last Friday of his stay by Harry Webb, the
actor manager, and Tom Powrie, the Scotch tragedian, Brooke,
as usual, turned the talk into a cheery channel, and after a
few minutes' desultory conversation, abruptly addressed his
companions in mock-authoritative fashion with "Now then,
boys, clear out ; I want to speak with Tom."
When the two were left alone, Gus. leaned affectionately
over the bed, and in a subdued voice said, ' Look here, old man
a fellow can't be on bis back so many weeks without getting
under the weather." Then quietly thrusting a bundle of Irish
260 Giistavus Vauglian Brooke.
pound-notes into King's hand, he continued, " Take these as a
parting gift. I wish they were a hundred times as much."
But the seemingly moribund one, knowing full well that Brooke
could ill spare the money, and that he had no personal
reason for anxiety, as his children were earning good salaries,
gratefully but firmly refused the present. Too much vexed at
the rebuff to expostulate, Brooke placed his arms round King's
neck and said, " Kiss, old fellow. Good-bye, God bless you."
This spontaneous action at once reminded the invalid of "Kiss
me, Hardy," and ill-attuned to bear strong emotion with
composure, tears streamed liberally down his face.
Tired of waiting outside, Macbeth and Dromio now returned
to the sick room. Resuming a feeble attempt at mirth- making,
Powrie struck an attitude and said, " When shall we three meet
again?" to which Webb responded with "There are four of us,
you old duffer." Then all three bade King a cheery good-bye,
and subduing their laughter, filed quietly out into the passage.
Through the door, left slightly ajar, the sick man heard poor
Brooke's voice for the last time, and woful was the message.
"Poor Tom," were his words, "I fear he's booked for kingdom
come. We shall never see him again." *
Lying between life and death for several weeks after
Brooke's departure. King eventually experienced a turn for
the better. Meanwhile his resources had become exhausted,
and in view of the importunities of dunning tradesmen, he
recalled with regret liis impulsive refusal of Gus's profi'ered
gift. Idling at home, unable to take an engagement, he
saw in the papers dread accounts of the loss of the London,
and for many days participated, with hosts of others, in the
* At tlii.s juncture in the original narrative Mr. Coleman has clearly
over-reached himself. He represents King as saying, "and they never
8aw me again, for in less than twelve months these three men, full of
lieallh and strength antl vigorous life, hud met tiie great mystery face
to face," etc. A reference to any of Die old Era Alinanuvlcs would
liave shown that NN'ehb die<l on January ].">, 1S07, and Powrie in the
August of the succeeiling year. Indeed, the sketch is chronologically
inaccurate tiiroughout, and "weeks" may be substituted for "months"
w4ierever the latter crops up.
''Guss J.o(jac}jr 201
anxiety to Iciini whether his old playmate had shared the
fate of the engulphed passengers. About the time tliat all
doubts were set at rest l)y public confirmation of the sad
rumour, Mrs. King, after the manner of industrious house-
wives, was one day bustling about dusting the room, and on
turning her attention to an old-fashioned tea-caddy standing
laden with dust on the bookshelf, startled her husband by
exclaiming, "This is just like you, Tom. Always telling me
you haven't got a shilling left, and hero, like a magpie, you have
been stuffing this dirty old tea-caddy full of bank notes."
Taking the notes nervously from liis wife's hands. King, to his
great amazement, saw "Gustavus Vaughan Brooke"' written on
the back. " Gus's Legacy" ^Ir. Coleman has aptly styled this
tnntrailli', in seeking a title for his sketch : it was certainly all
he left to any person in tlie world.
On repairing to Belfast to fulfil what was fated to prove his
last engagement, Brooke was accompanied by his wife and
younger sister, the latter of whom had determined upon voyaging
to the Colonies for her health's sake. Opening at the old Theatre
Royal on Monday, December 4, as Othello, the ardency of his
acting was marred somewhat by the ravages of recent intemperance
which had played havoc with his sonorous voice, rendering it at
times harsh and monotonous. Furthermore, his memory was
occasionally at fault. Mr. Edward Terry — then stock low comedian
at Belfast and the bright particular Eoderigo of the evening —
relates that in the third scene of the third act he mixed up
part of lago's speech in the opening scene of the first act with
Othello's lines, in the following odd fashion : —
" I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind
For daws to peck at."
To his credit be it said, however, Brooke was completely
abstemious during his final performances in Belfast, and from
first to last let nothing in the way of liquor cross his lips,
save and except an occasional glass of claret. In this he was
largely influenced by the soothing presence of his wife, who,
262 Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
although not required in Belfast in her professional capacity,
was sufficiently sensible of her error in hearkening more to the
claims of her mother than of her husband, not to leave him
again until he had finally boarded the London.
Appearing successively as Matthew Elmore, Virginius,
Eichelieu, Master Walter, and Macbeth, Brooke played to
uniformly good houses, and was efficiently supported by the
local stock company, which, besides Mr. Terry, then numbered
among its principal members Messrs. J. F. Warden and W. E.
Mills, the lessees of the theatre; Mr. F. Young, Mr. J. G.
Swanton, Mrs. Mills, Miss Jenny Bellair, Miss Julia Leicester, .
and the sisters Polly and Maggie Findland. On Tuesday,
December 12, when the performance was under the patronage
of the Marquis and Marchioness of Downshire, the star displayed
his comedy powers by giving impersonations of Sir Lucius
O'Trigger in TJic llirals, and O'Callaghan in His Last Let/s, to an
overflowing house. His acting on that occasion was distinguished
by great care and painstaking, even in minor detail ; but most
of his old admirers had their pleasure lessened by a distressing
sense of the eflbrts put forth to overcome the feebleness and
inflexibility of his voice. In face of these drawbacks, however,
Brooke evinced a keen appreciation of the humours of Sheridan's
maiden comedy, and was tickled to such an extent by the
ludicrous figure cut by Edward Terry as Bob Acres in the duel
scene, that he turned his back on the audience, and literally shook
with suppressed laughter.
On the 15th T/u> llirdls was repeated, with ('(itJierine and
Fetnuhio as afterpiece ; and on the following night Brooke
appeared in T/tc WiJ'e and I J is Last Leijs. A Xcir \\\ii/ to
ray Old Debts was in the bill on Monday the l8lh ; and
on Tuesday the star played Shylock and Sir Patrick O'Plenipo
in The Irish Ambassador. The two-act comedy was repeated as
afterpiece to The Htrawjcr on Wednesday; and on Tlun-sday
Othcllu was performed, with Brooke as Lago, and -1. F. Warden
in the name-part. For his farewell bcjicfit on Friday (when
he received liiilf the leceipts, taking only a tliinl on other
Last Appca ranee on the Statje, 263
nights) our lieio elected to appear as Edgar, in J. W. Calcraft's
drama, 'L'hc Bride nf Latiinwniioiir, and as Captain Murphy
Maguire in The Serious Ftiiiiili/. It was certainly a strange
coincidence that on this, the penultimate night of his appearance
on the stage, lirooke should have fastened on a play written hy
the manager under whose kindly auspices he had first hlossomed
forth in Dublin. But a stranger thing was to follow. In one of
the intervals during the performance the tragedian, on sauntering
up to the prompt corner, was startled to find hanging there a
copy of the bill announcing his liual appearance, and headed in
bold letters —
LAST NIGHT
or MR. G. V.
B li O O K E .
"Last night,'' ho said, in a saddened undertone, half to himself
and half to the little group of actors standing about, " it seems
like sounding a fellow's death-knell."
Little did he reck that in the course of a few short weeks
the same mournful bill, reduced in photographic fac-simile, would
be treasured by his old friends as a fitting memorial of his
greatness.
Saturday, December 23, 1865, marks Brooke's final appear-
ance on the stage. Responding to an enthusiastic recall after a
vigorous performance of Richard III., the tragedian took his
leave in a few spontaneous words entirely characteristic of the
man. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, " with this night finishes
my professionial career in Belfast, for a long, very long time to
come. I fervently trust by the favour of the One Providence
that I may at some distant time be enabled to return to a
town where I may professionally or unprofessionally mingle
with my friends iu Belfast again. I now take an afl'ectionate
farewell of you all, wishing from my heart continued prosperity
to this magniliceiit city."
Dingy and tumbledown as was the scene from which
G. V. Brooke made his last exit, the time-honoured boards of
264
Gustavus Vaiiglmn Bwol-e.
the barn-like edifice in Arthur Square were not without classic
associations. Kemble, Siddons, Cooke, and Kean had all
fretted and strutted their hour there in by-gone days. And it
was not a little snigular that the quondam " Hibernian
Eoscius " should have ended his picturesque career within the
walls which had encompassed the marvellous Betty boy's first
audience. Fully a score of years have elapsed since the historic
old theatre was razed to the ground, and during that period two
more commodious structures have successively occupied its site.
Gone too, for the most part, is the Old Guard of playgoers, with
their cherished memories and fine enthusiasm for the legitimate.
Another generation has sprung up, knowing little and caring
less for the traditions of the playhouse. Still the respect
entertained for the memory of Brooke has descended reverently
from father to son, and amid tlie clangour of commerce and
strife of contending opinion sheds a hallowed radiance over the
theatrical precincts of this puritanical city.
-v^"^"
#
<:».
C H A P T E E XIV.
1866-1867.
The S.S. London: lier Targo and Defects — "Mr. and Miss Vanghan "
Embark at Ply inoiitli— Unhappy Kesults of Brookes lurotjnito —
The Legend of the Baffled Sheriffs' Officers— Detailed Account of the
A'oyage — Death of Miss Brooke from Heart Failure — Gustavus Lends
a Hand at tlie Pnnips— He Refuses to go in the Boat, and Sends
his Farewell to Melbourne — Verses Commemorative of his Noble
Ending — Reception of the News in England and tiie Colonies — The
Poolbeg Memorial Lifeboat : an Ephemeral Memento— A vonia Jones
Heartbroken — Api)ears at the Surrey in East Lijnnc— Returns, to
America and Dies there — Her Father and Mother Reconciled over
her Deathbed.
THE London, in wliicli Brooke had quietly arranged to voyage
to the Antipodes, was an u'on screw ship of some 1,429
tons register. Built at Blackwall, Middlesex, in the summer of
1864 for Messrs. Money, Wigram, k Sons, she was classed Aal
at Lloyd's, and in the opinion of Lloyd's surveyor (as expressed
at the Board of Trade inquiry in February, 18GG), " was in all
respects a good vessel." Other equally competent authorities,
however, considered her too long and too deep for her beam,
added to which she was practically over-masted.
On preparing for this her third voyage the London was
laden with cargo, in the East Lidia Docks, consisting of railway
iron and casks of agricultural implements, to the value of
well-nigh £125,000. Freighted with a similar quantity of iron
to that borne on her second voyage (when no particular stress
of weather was encountered) she carried in all 1,308 tons, or 39
tons less than on the previous occasion. These facts to the
contrary notwithstanding, there can be little doubt that the dead
266 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
weight on the last sad voyage was excessive. About 348 tons of
railway iron were packed nearly solid in a space of fifty-six feet
in length by twenty-four in breadth and five in depth. Had
the vessel not been overburdened it is reasonable to infer she
would have risen satisfactorily to the heavy seas encountered in
the Bay of Biscay, instead of floundering in their trough. It is
certainly strange that next to no one foresaw the terrible risk
incurred, although the reproach which resolves itself around the
oversight is softened by the circumstance that the loadline had
unhappily been placed ridiculously high.
Leaving the docks in charge of a Trinity House pilot early
on the morning of December 28, the London called at Gravesend
to take in live stock and baggage, proceeding towards Plymouth
on the 30th. A heavy sou'-wester, however, soon sprang up,
causing her to drop anchor before nightfall at the Nore. There
she remained until the grey streaks of monung arose on the New-
Year's day of 1860. Shortly after resuming her course more
squally and unsettled weather was experienced, culminating in a
delay of several hours at the Mother Bank. Later on the strong
winds from the S.S.W. were accompanied by a succession of
heavy seas ; but beyond lurching a little the vessel behaved
admirably, arriving safely at Plymouth early on the morning of
Friday, January 5. Here, by way of renewing her stock, she
took in some fifty tons of coal which, after a practice then
followed by Australian bound steamers, were stowed away in
bags on deck, mostly around the steam chest and engine room
hatch. At Plymouth, likewise, were the remainder of the
passengers embarked, Brooke and his sister Fanny (registered
on the first-class list as "Mr. and Miss Vaughan") among
the number. This significant falsification of names, coupled
with the fact that few knew of their departure, led to much
unliappy conjecturing after tlic disaster. It was in tlic first
place confidently asserted tliat the tragedian had never sailed
in tlic ill-fated vessel ; this was )io sooner set at rest tluui up
sprang an uglier rumour to the effect that he had met his
end while eloping with an abandoned woman. To this calumny
A Dramatic hicidtut. I'OT
the broken-hearted widow made pathetic reply,* puinting out
that she had aecompanied her husband and sister-indaw on
their hist sad journey to Plymouth, and, as a matter of fact,
had only put oil' from the London a few short minutes before
the hfting of the anchor. Slie might well have added that in
her firm resolve to follow at an early date, she had rendered up
to the tragedian the few treasures saved from the wreckage
of years, and when the news of his death arrived, had nothing
to retain in his memory save a hastily scribbled note and a
soiled collar.
As Brooke was not the man to travel incuynitu from mere
motives of delicacy, the only reason that can be assigned for the
course pursued was the natural desire to escape from the pressing
attention of his creditors. Whethei* this be true or not, a legend
exists to the effect that Brooke had some difficulty in getting on
board without arrest, and even then thought it advisable to lie
perdu until the anchor was lifted. The story goes that two
sheriffs' officers clambered up the vessel at the eleventh hour and
informed Captain Martin they had warrants for the arrest of the
tragedian, of whose whereabouts they were perfectly assured.
Nothing daunted by a fruitless scrutiny of the passengers' list,
these vigilant worthies demanded the commander's assistance in
the execution of their duty, and were told in reply to search the
ship from stem to stern without delay. "If you find him take
him off by all means," said the captain. " If not, take yourselves
off' as speedily as possible, for there is much to do here, and we
cannot be impeded in our duty." Then began a vigorous search
on the part of these limbs of the law — upstairs, downstairs, and
possibly in "my lady's chamber.' But all to no purpose; the
disappointed pair had perforce to confess themselves mistaken ;
and, with a poor attempt at concealing their chagrin, took their
departure. And what of Brooke during this anxious, period '?
No sooner was the coast clear than he is said to have emerged
from the fo'castle disguised as a sailor, only to utter profuse
* See her letter iu The Times of February 17, 1866, uuder signature
" Avonia Brooke."
268 Gustavus Vaiujhan Brooke.
expressions of gratitude, in a choked voice, to the gallant,
warm-hearted commander.
What degree of truth attaches itself to this yarn will probably
never be known. Colourable as it appears we cannot unreservedly
accept all the details of a narrative which implies that the heroic
captain figured as a quibbling accessory to an evasion of the law.
Tarrying in port, in accordance with the sailors' superstition,
until a few minutes after twelve o'clock on Friday night, the
London steamed away from Plymouth, with seven boats, 163
passengers, and a crew of 89, of whom fifteen were foreigners.
Although Captain Martin was afterwards blamed (by those who
did not take into consideration the great expense of delay and
other contingencies) for sailing at a time when the barometrical
indications were anything but favourable, the weather was fine
and calm at the outset, and continued so until Saturday after-
noon, when it began to blow hard. There can be little doubt,
however, that a severe storm had been explicitly foreshown. We
have evidence of this in the transference of several passengers
at Plymouth from the Jolin Duthic to the London, the latter
being deemed the more seaworthy of the two. Both sailed
much about the same time, but by a strange irony of
circumstance, while the seemingly safer vessel foundered in
the Bay of Biscay, the discredited one passed scathelessly
through the ordeal, and, but little delayed by the stress of
weather, reached Sydney in safety. Sunday came, and with
it no abatement of the south-westerly winds. The seas, too,
began to increase, but the London steadily pursued her course,
steaming along at the rate of eight knots an hour. It was
blowing so hard, however, by eight o'clock on Monday morning
(January 8) that the captain gave orders to stop tlie engines,
lift the screw, and extinguish the fires. The wind moderating
with the approach of evening, steam was again got up, and
the reefed spajikcr and staysails set. Brief was the respite.
Before midnight the main topmast staysail had been carried
away, and from that period onwards the gale raged unceasingly,
increasing in velocity down to llio last dread hour.
Details of the Voyage. 269
About nine o'clock on Tuesday morning the jib-boom was
carried away on the starboard side, followed shortly afterwards
by the foretop, top-gallant, and main-royal masts, which hung
down aft from the rigging aloft. Strenuous efforts were made
by tlie crew to cut away these swinging dangers, but owing to
the heavy seas which kept sweeping over the vessel (one of
which washed away the port lifeboat), it was found impossible to
effect anything more material than the securing of the foretop
mast. Nothing of sulBcient gravity had as yet occurred,
however, to cause fears to be entertained for the ship's safety.
The engines continued to work well, and but little water
had been shipped. In fact, no serious note of alarm was
sounded until the middle of the evening, when the persistent
incursions of the seas occasioned the battening down of the
hatches.
At length, deeming it advisable to turn the ship round and
run for Plymouth, Captain Martin gave orders at three o'clock
on Wednesday morning to set the engines at full speed. It
was blowing a complete gale at the time, and no sooner had
the instructions been obeyed than a heavy cross sea struck the
vessel, washing away the starboard lifeboat and staving in the
starboard cutter. With only four boats remaining the prospect
was far from reassuring.
To add to the general misfortune some of the coals which
had been packed around the engine-room hatchway broke out of
the bags, and in rolling and floating about soon blocked up the
lee scuppev-holes. This, of course, militated against the escape
of deck- water ; a source of danger considerably aggravated by
the circumstance that the vessel was provided with no gutter
way, having instead a box spirketting on the weather deck.
Still sticking manfully to their task, the crew contrived shortly
after noon to get in about twenty-five feet of the flying
jib-boom, which they placed alongside the combings of the
engine-room hatchway, firmly securing one end to a stanchion.
Unlucky arrangement I All afternoon the doomed ship laboured
greatly, and kept taking in green seas over the port side. With
270 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke.
the scuppers stuffed up, the water on deck soon became deep
enough to float the imperfectly secured flymg jib-boom, which in
beating about contrived to weaken the fastenings of the engine-
room sky-Hght. Owing to the damage thus effected, this portion
of the vessel offered little resistance to the succession of heavy
seas encountered about eleven o'clock p.m. (lat. 468 N., long.
0*87), and on being borne away left the Avater free to pour
down into the engine-room. Ten minutes after this appalling
mishap the fires were quite extinguished and the massive
machinery silenced forever.
It needs no great powers of imagination to picture the
anguish and agony of suspense suffered by the passengers at this
terrible juncture. Albeit the hatches had been nailed down five
or six hours previously, the deck-water found its way into the
state-cabins with alarming persistency, and had now accumulated
to such an extent that the bedding in the lower bunks on the
starboard side was being washed from the berths. Terrified by
the sight, all the first-class passengers assembled in the saloon
where the Rev. D. J. Draper, a Wesleyan divine, strove fervently
to administer spiritual consolation to those who felt unprepared
to meet their Maker. A knot of earnest women gathered around
reading bibles with the children ; and now and again all would
unite zealously in prayer. Powerful, indeed, was the effect of
the good minister's exhortations, for soon an epidemic of calm
resignation cast its spells over the anxious, maintaining its sway
until the last dread moment.
Although something like a score of the crew were lying
below, ill or hurt (many of the foreign element skulking to their
berths and refusing to work), hopes of saving the ves.sel had
not yet been abandoned. Witli tlio putting out of tlie
engine-room fires, Angel, the third olficcr, summoned most of
the male passengers on deck to assist in covering the gap made
by the carrying away of the sky-light. Sails were brought up
and with dilVicnlty nailed over tlic opening. Mattresses and
other bulky objects were piled on top as additional security,
liul all to no purpose. Nothing could liave withstood the seas
Lending n Hand at the Pumps. 271
which kept pouring over the vessel with alarming violence and
persistency. Observing how fruitless were their efforts, many
of the passengers went below and, with a determination born of
despo.ir, spent hours at a stretch in attempting to bale out the
lower saloon by passing up buckets of water.
Meanwhile, God in his mercy had cut short the suspense of
at least one of the passengers. Troubled with heart failure,
Miss Brooke's vitality proved too weak to resist the shock.
Watching over her tenderly to the last, Gustavus lost all grip of
the world — all desire for self-preservation — with the closing of
her eyes for ever. Giving no thought to himself, he rushed on
deck to do what he could for the others. Owing to the washing
out of the fires, no use could be made of the powerful engine
pumps ; but the ordinary deck pumps had l)een rigged without
delay. It was a difficult and highly dangerous task to work
these in the face of the violence of the elements, and volunteers
were none too plentiful. Brooke, of his own free will, at once
decided to lend a hand. Bareheaded and barefooted, attired
only in a red Crimean shirt and trousers, with his braces
fastened belt-like around him, he laboured untiringly at the
pumps, and time after time revived the drooping spirits of his
companions by the almost superhuman energy witli which he
applied himself to his task.
All througli that terrible night the pumping, and baling,
and bootless covering of the engine-room hatch- way went on.
But, do what they would, the water continued to gain ground,
and soon brought the horrible consciousness that the ship was
gradually settling down. Nothing daunted, however, the captain
preserved a brave face until five o'clock on the morning of
Thursday, January 11, when the stern ports were driven in,
and the water poured freely through the apertures into the lower
saloon. Totally disabled by this crowning misadventure, the
ship rolled lielplessly ni the trough of the sea, continually swept
by the merciless waves.
It now became the captain's sad duty to inform the ladies that
nothing short of a miracle could snatch them from destruction.
272 Gustavus Vaiighan Brooke.
But religious consolation had robbed death of its terrors ; and
by one and all the dread message was received with surprising
fortitude. A serio-comic incident, however, followed on the heels
of this intimation. No sooner had the word gone forth than
one of the male passengers lugged a heavy carpet-bag on deck,
causing the captain's grave features to relax for a moment at
the absurdity of anyone thinking of personal property at such
a crisis.
When daylight came Captain Martin ordered the remaining
boats to be cleared, and by nine o'clock the starboard pinnace,
capable of holding fifty persons, was swung outboard. Six of
the crew got in, but the boat was lowered unevenly, and a heavy
sea coming to leeward filled her as she hung in the davits.
Hence when released she shot her bow under the ship and sank
like a stone, the occupants scrambling up again into the London,
aided partly by the ropes hanging alongside and partly by the
advent of a heavy sea. A few of the sailors then endeavoured to
clear away the port iron boat, but getting little help from the
others, who deemed the task hopeless, had to abandon their
efforts. Finally, the port cutter was provisioned with bread,
water, brandy, and champagne, and lowered without mishap a
few minutes before two o'clock in the afternoon. Sixteen of the
crew and three passengers eventually got in. Happily there was
little disposition to overcrowd the boat, the sinking of the pinnace
having acted as a wholesome corrective. Revolvers were freely
displayed by many of the passengers remaining on board, most
of whom declared their intention to shoot themselves rather than
meet their death in the manner imminent.
Everything now being prepared in the boat, one of the sailors
hailed the captain as he walked meditatively up and down the poop
deck, and asked whether he intended to accompany them. " No,
King, I do not," he replied; " I am going to remain on board."
And then, with considerable forethought, he gave them their
course — "E.N.E. for Brest, 100 miles; the nearest land."
And Brooke? Just as they were pushing off, Gardiner, the
assistant steward, observed him leaning with stern composure
-'■FdCe to Face irif]/ Srairliuii Death y 273
against the half-door of the compaaiou way. Tliere he stood
cahnly surveying the scene, with his cliin resting on his hands
as they grasped the top of the door, whieli swayed slowly
to and fro under the pressure. "Will you come with us, Mr.
Brooke?" shouted Gardiner, pity welling up in his heart for the
man who had toiled so bravely. "No! no!" replied Brooke.
" Good-bye. Should you survive, give my last farev>'ell to the
people of Melbourne."
By this time the water had poured through the cabin wnidows
to such an extent that the sea was flush with the top of the
poop-deck, and the bodies of drowned women and cliildrcn were
to be seen floating about in the vessel. On putting off, just as
they had drawn their knives to hack at the hands of those who
might be disposed to cling to tlie gunwales, the sailors were
startled by the agonising shrieks of a handsome young lady,
who screamed out an offer of "A thousand guineas if you'll
take me in." But it was too late. Already the swirl of waters
round the stern was so excessive as to betoken the near
approach of the end. Millions would not have tempted the
occupants of the boat to return and brave the dangers of the
suckage setting in. As they rowed slowly away, many of the
passengers, anxious that someone should survive to tell the tale,
waved their handkerchiefs and cheered as best thev could.
Straining their eyes back eagerly as the distance grew greater,
the men saw that the ill-fated vessel was sinking rapidly l)y
the stern. In fact the stem rose so high out of the water
three minutes after tlieir departure that the keel was visible
for a moment as far as the foremast. Then the cutter
went down into the trough of the sea, and when she had
climbed a hill of water, Olympus high, no trace of the f.unduH
or of the remnants of her living freight was to be seen ; nothing
but an awful gulf of dark whirling water.
Next day the survivors were picked up by an Italian barque
and carried to Falmouth, and not long after some of the sailors
gratified public curiosity by appearing at the City of London and
other theatres, where Brooke in his time had played many parts.
T
274 Gnstavus Vaitglinn Brooke.
The awfulness of his fate, combmed with the Spartan
fortitude with which he met it, formed sufficient excuse, at the
heat of the moment, for the sporadic outburst of elegiac verse in
which the tragedian's death was commemorated at home and
abroad. Unfortunately the picture was somewhat distorted by
the glossing of the fact that cowardice was more the exception
than the rule in that last dread hour when " mute horror strode
the deck."
With Dr. Corry one can agree that —
" Faults, if any, are forgotten ;
Virtues now alone appear ;
As choice gems in darkest setting
Shine more lustrously and clear.
Brooke has passed away for ever !
But our lips shall name with pride
One who, in that hour of danger.
Feared not death, but nobly died."
But one could have wished tliat a little of this poetic fervour
had been bestowed upon the memory of Captain Martin, who,
with reputation at stake, continued to preserve a brave face, and
throughout all those days of maddening suspense bore himself
with conspicuous nobleness and self-abnegation.
It were idle to attempt to divine, as some have done, the inner-
most thoughts of the hapless tragedian in that last sad hour. For
some years previously he had uncomplainingly fought an uphill
fight against Fate; and under the blow dealt at him through
his much-loved sister he resigned himself to the inevitable. J^'elix
in u]i})ortunitat(' martin, miglit we not well say'? He had lived the
best of liis life, and, no matter how bright the future outlook,
nothing but shallows and miseries could have been his portion.
Far better than to lag superfluous on tlic stage was it to die
thus nobly, with his memory cml)alin('d in our minds, as
Victor from viuKiuished Is^such at the last,
And overtlirower limn being overthrown.
Wlicn tlie news reached England nnd the Colonies, sorrow
for the fate of poor I'rooke seems for n lime to liave dwarfed
T/ic r>riti;hu' McinnridJ LifcJxjat. 275
ihe iiuigiiilULlc' of the di.^aster. la Austnilia, where he had
always been looked upon as the Father of the Drama (his
failings only rendering him more popular with the excitable
inhabitants), the sad intelligence threw an unexampled gloom
over the entire country. Printed in large letters within a deep
mourning border, his last words were to be seen in a conspicuous
position in every shop window.
AVhile Brooke's old Melbourne friends were busily engaged
in getting up a memorial fund, those at home had set well on
foot a similar movement. Acting upon the suggestion of the
Cardifi' correspondent of the F.ra, who, in a letter to that journal
under date January 24, 18GG, pointed out that a lifeboat would
form an appropriate memento of the actor's ending, a committee
was formed to carry the proposal into execution. This consisted
of Messrs. Benjamin "Webster, Joseph Jefferson, J. W. Anson, Paul
Bedford, John Billington, J. L. Toole, Clarence Holt, and Lieut.
Gilbert, R.N. Subscriptions soon began to pour in all over the
country (Belfast alone contributing some £90), and tlie money
thus derived was satisfactorily supplemented by numerous
memorial performances at Dublin, Manchester, and elsewhere.
A noteworthy tribute was the publication of a lyrical ballad,
entitled "The Wreck of the London," by Mr. John A. Heraud,
the well-known dramatist and critic, the entire proceeds from
the sale of which went to swell the memorial fund.
Shortly after being launched with due honours at Dublin, on
September 20, the (r. T'. Brooke was presented by the Committee
to the National Lifeboat Institution, whose controlling members
very appropriately placed it for service at Poolbeg.
Fitting, indeed, was the attempt to write the actor's epitaph
" in water." Taken figuratively by those who saw in the noble
new lifeboat —
" No selfish monument of useless stone,
But one ■which in all honest hearts will ever live."
the words must now be read with saddening literalness. Opposite
the hundreds of pounds so freely and generously subscribed,
276 Giistavus Vaughan Brooke.
nothing material remains to perpetuate the memory of Brooke.
After about fourteen years' service, the memorial lifeboat was
replaced by another, of which it could not be said that
..." Many a rescued one through it had heard Brooke's name,
And lived with grateful heart to speak his fame."
Detractors of the tragedian must stand abashed when
confronted with the result of his sad taking-off upon poor
Avonia Jones. Tlie shock at once threw a settled melancholy
over her spirits, from which she never recovered. Sleep
forsook her. For weeks after the loss of the Londun, although
continuing to fulfil her arduous professional duties, she never
went to bed, but sat up night after night with wearied eyelids,
attended only by a single friend.
When the blow fell it found her actively preparing for her
appearance at the new Surrey Theatre in a dramatisation of
East Jjijunc, specially written for tlie occasion by Mr. Jolni
Oxenford. Struggling to keep faith with the public, she attended
long and trying rehearsals at a time when she had scarcely
broken her fast for days, refusing to hearken to those who
judiciously advised postponement. It is not to be wondered at,
therefore, that her acting on the opening night was nerveless
and dispirited, or that throughout the engagement (decidedly
successful notwithstanding) she showed little of the sonority and
force so characteristic of her style in earlier days.
The legend still flourishing vigorously in America to the
effect that Brooke's last words were, " My dear Avonia," probably
had its origin in the circumstance that Mr. C. A. Elliot, of
Trinity College, Cambridge, in strolling along the beach at
Brighton on Thursday, March 15, 186G, picked up a wine bottle
containing the following message written in pencil on a torn
*It appears that the entire moneys accruing to the Brooke Fund
from ftuhscriptions, performances, etc., uere .1'202 16s. Od., and that llie
rfsiilne of the 8um necessary for the purchasing of a lifeboat was
furnislied out of the funds of the J.ifehoat Institution. During her
brief career the G. V. Brooke was instrnmental in saving the lives of
some thirteen people.
Death of Avon/a Jones. 277
envelope: — "lltli January, on board the Lmulon. We are just
going down. No chance of safety. Please give this to Avonia
Jones, Surrey Theatre. — Gustavus Vaughan Brooke." Sufficient
testimony of the genuineness of the note was given by the shock
experienced by the disconsolate widow on recognising the well-
known handwriting.
As if to make assurance doubly sure, Brooke had addressed
a second note to " Warden, Belfast Theatre," similar in drift to
the other, but containing the pathetic postscript: — "Do what
yon can for poor Avonia." Tiiis too was washed ashore on the
South-oast coast of England and transmitted to Mr. Warden,
who gave the bottle and its contents a place of honour in the
box-office of his theatre until the building was unfortunately
destroyed by fire.
Concerning Avonia Jones, little remains to be said. Tlje
end quickly came. On leaving London, she fulfilled a series of
engagements in the provinces and then returned to America.
Fearing the worst, her medical advisers at once ordered her to
Cuba ; but Avhile preparing to depart, rapid consumption got in
its work unerringly and carried her off at the early age of
twenty-eight. She died at her father's residence. No. *2 Bond
Street, New York, on Friday, October 1, 1867, and was buried
in Mont Auburn Cemetery, Boston.
Poor Avonia ! One possessing such a generous, earnest, and
withal affectionate disposition, was deserving of a better fate.
Yet happy and peaceful was her ending ; for over her deathbed
she had tlie satisfaction of seeing her long-estranged parents join
hands and become sincerelv reconciled.
^
■L;i^^i^i'J:v;^.^^^
INDEX.
PAGE
Aberdeen, Drama in ... S-t
Academy, Tlie liev. AMlliam
.loness ... ... ... 5-8
Addison, Miss Fanny 239
Adelaide, Drama in IGT, 189, 203
Allen, David 251
American Stat;e, The 118-128, 196
Anderson, James 34, 39, 50, 112, 193
Ayr, Drama in 46
Ballarat, Drama in ... 172,188
Bancroft, S. B. 227, 235, 237, 23S
Belfast, Drama in 25, 33, 114, 138
222-224, 245-249,
252, 261-2G4, 277
... 262
... 196
132, 142
... 115
38
... 41-43
9, 14, '264
Bellair, Miss Jenny ...
Bendi^'o, Drama in ...
Jienncit, (ieorge
Bennett, James
Bennett, Miss Julia ...
Berwick, Drama in ...
Betty, AV. H. W.
Birminj^liam, Drama in 31-33, 115,
116, 129, 138, 114, 146-149
Bishop, Madame Anna ... 177
Boker, G. H 133
Booth, Edwin 250
Boston (Mass.),Drama in 121, 125-127
Bright<;n, Drama in 41, 90, 222
Bkooke, c;ustavus Vaughan—
Family Connections ... 1,2
His Father and INIotlier 2, 3, 8,
16, 28, 99, 158, 195, 233, 234, 256
His Brother and Sisters 2, 99,
102, 176, 177, 179,
239, 261, 266, 271
I'AGE
Brooke, Gu.stavu.s Vaughan —
His Schooldays 3-7
Early Athletic Prowess ... 5, 6
Anecdotes of 3, 15, 24, 25, 32,
50, 53, 58, 68, 69, 77, 86, 03,
99, 102, 114, 139, 145, 161, 197
236, 243, 249, 253, 259, 261, 207
First Appearance as the
"Hibernian Koscius " ... 10
First Appearance in London 17
Provincial Tours 14-16, 21, 22,
29-34, 114-117, 138-141,
143-149, 220, 222 232,
235-240, 243-249, 252-264
His William Tell 10, 11
His Virginius 12, 13, 17, 18,
22, 90, 131, 164, 236
His \ Oung Nerval ... 13
His Edgar Ravenswood ... 21
His Bomeo ... ... 23, 55, 162
His I ago 24, 66, 132, 201, 255
His Othello 26,27,79-84, 108, 131,
159,220, 238
His Sir (;iles 27, 85-87, 113, 258
His Claude Melnotte 29, 30, 112
His Richard HI. 38, 39, 87, 142
His Hamlet 3t*, 71, 88, 114, 160
His Coriolanus ... ... 44
His ^Matthew Elmore .. 44, 169
His Macbeth ...64,137,231
His Master Walter 67, 112, 141, 176
His Eaurencj' ("The Lords
of EUingham "') 91
His Julian St. Pierre ... 94
His Don ComezC'The
Noble Heart") 105
280
Gustavus Vauglian Brooke.
PAGE
Brooke, Gustavus Vaughan—
His Philip of France
("Marie de Meranie ") 110, 111
HisShj'lock 113
His Marsio (' The Betrothal ") 133
His Richelieu 138
His Brutus {" Julius C-Psar ") 172
His Brutus ("Brutus") ... 141
His Leonatus Posthumus ISO, 239
His Werner 180
His Cardin al "Wolsey ... 1 84
His Colonna (" Evadne ")... 185
His Eaphael Duchalet
(" The Marble Heart ") 186
His Sardanapaliis .. ... 187
His Louis XI 200
His Sir Bernard Harleigh
(" Dreams of Delusion ") 202, 206
Personal Characteristics 15, 40, 41,
45,53,61,73,110-112,
115, 124, 125, 139,
229, 236, 244, 259
His Stock Work 37-40, 62-64,
71-74
His Squabble with Macreadj^
35, 30
Correspondence 46, 98, 99, 101,
103, 104, 106, 107, 109, 112,
144, 153, 155, 160, 170, 175,
177, 188, 193, 194, 219, 224,
225, 228, 229, 231-233, 240, 249
His Managerial Speculations
46, 121, 128, 177, 178,
185, 189, 102, 194, 205
Presentations 54, 125, 140, 165,
172, 173, 213,251
His Style of Acting con-
sidered 44, 60, 61, 110, 140, 151
Mis American Tour 1 18-128
His Australian Work 153-217
N'arious Arrests ... 73, 107,227
r.ineson 13, 30, 116, 162, 201,
274, 275
His liotcritive Memory and
(iuick Study, 24, 03
Characteristics of liis lilo-
cution 27, 12), 131, 138, 163
His Beadiiigs and Becilations 31,
33, 98, 99, 131, 214, 224, 252
PAGE
Brooke, Gustavus Vaughax—
His " Lines on the Death of
Elton" 95-97
His Irish Comedy Personations
14, \o, 29, 70, 151, 161,
164, 171, 173, 181, 184,
187-191, 202, 206, 212, 262
Drury Lane Engagements 35, 120,
131-137, 141-143,
149-151, 219-221
Olympic Engagements 75-91, 93,
103-107, 110-113
Marylebone Engagement ... 108
Cit}' of London Engagements
151-152, 232, 233
Sadler's Wells Engagements
250, 251
His "Creations" ... 91, 133, 148
His First Marriage ... ... 116
Becomes Insolvent... 107, 109, 1-13
228, 229, 232, 242
His Second Marriage ... 234
His Last Appearance 262, 263
Buchanan, McKean
Burke, Joseph ...
Burke, K. C. ...
Butler, Mrs. ...
203
9, 14
128
62-65
Calcraft, J. W. 8, 56, 94, 263
Calvert, Charles 239
Capetown, Drama in 155
Carey, W. G. ... 197-199
Carlisle, Drama in ... 4.3,98,253
Cathcart, Mi.ss I'anny 141, 14!», 155,
156, 159, 160, 103-166, 168, 170, 180
Chambers, Thomas ... ... 25
Chippendale, — — 21
City of London Tlieatre 149, 151,
232, 233
Clifton. Mi.«s 21
Cobham, Thomas ... ... 90
Coglilan, Charles ... ... 222
Coleman, John 24, 72, 73, 77, 78,
83, 85-87, 118-120,
14H, 20S, 254-261
Conipton, Henry ... 21,101,112
Cooke, George I-'rederick 19, 42,
90, 264
In<i
fX.
281
I'AGIi
Cooper, Miss Fanny 47
Cooper, Clillonl 230
Copelau.l, W. I{. ... 2.», 2.S!i
Coppin, (icorge iM, H8, 156, l(i'2,
10(5, 1(18, 170-181, 1S:M!):{,
'20r>-'J07, '209- 2 14, 2:)4, 2.",;
Cork, Drama in 39, 57 59, 129, 140
Corry, Dr. T. C. S 274
"Corsican IJrotliern," The
History of 121, 122, 142, 169, 183
Cowper, J. C 235,239
Craven, Mr. and Mrs. H. T. 106, 183
Creswick, William ... 21, 112
Cushman, Charlotte 50
Davenport, E. L.
Day, W. ('
Diddear, Miss Louise
Dinsmore, William
91, 92, 104,
105, 132, 133
... 76, 92
... 249
68, 103, 139,
231, 253
Don, Sir William and Lady 206,
207, 211
Draper, Rev. D. J 270
Drew, John 201,202
Drummond, Miss Dolores 203
Drury Lane, Theatre Koyal 34-36,
120, 131-137, 141-143,
149-151, 219-221
Dublin Stage, The 7-14, 22, 55,
94, 129, 220, 235, 237, 249, 258
Dumfries Stage, The 16, 252
Dunn, Miss Ilosa .. ... 204
Duret, Miss Marie 34, 39, 41-43, 47,
68, 70, 71, 90-94,98-103
Kligeworths, The 3-5
Edinburgh, Drama in 10, 92, 115
Edwards, Henry 19f», 195. I'tO, 200,
202, 204
Elliot, C. A 270
Ellis, George 104
Elton, E. W 19, 95
72
... 230
Emery, Sam. ...
Everill, F
Farren, Henry ...
Farren, W., jun.
PAGE
Faucit, Miss H. (Lady Martin), 53,
55-60, 110, 112, 1.35, 114
Fawcett, George [See " Kowe "]
Fechter, Charles .. 123.217,231
Fisher, Clara 9
Flynn, J. W. 57, 130, 141, 235-237
Forrest, Edwin... .50, 51, 54, 80, 120
Forster, John 80
Fo.\, Dr 3, 225
Frankland, Miss ... ... 115
(Jeelong, Drama in 101, 181, 189
Glasgow, Drama in 16, 21, 24, 47,
99, 115, 143, 144,224
Glyn, Mi.ss 72, 90, 112
(haham, K. E 101
Grand Opera Season (First
Australian) 177
(ireenock, Drama in .. 224-220
Hamblin, T. S. 122
Hamilton, Sir Frederick ... 2
Hammond, W. J. ... ... 38
Hayes, Catherine ... 156, 170
Hazlitt, William 28
Healcy (Brooke's Dre-ser) ... 68, 69
Heir, Mr. and Mrs. Robert 161,
16.3, 16fi-171, 181-187,
191-195, 207, 214
Heraud, John A 275
Hobart (Tasmania), Drama in 176
112
112
Holl. Henry 71,
72, 77, 92
Holt, Mr. and Mrs. Ci.arence 198,
201,275
Howe, J. B
...6,1, 70
Huddart, Aliss
10, 13, 39
Hudson, James
... 192
Infant IMienomeua
9
Irving, Henry ...
... 230
Jackson, Harry 197, 200, 202, 203
Jackson, J. K 2.33
Jeil'erson, Joseph ... ... 275
Johnstone, .lames ... ... 108
2S2
Gustavus y^awjltan Brooke.
PAGE
Jones, Miss Avonia 196-199, 204,
205, 212-214, 219-224, 226-228,
2.10, 232-234, 23S 242, 250,
254, 257, 258, 261, 267, 276
Jones, Geo. (Count Johannes)
196, 276
Kean, Charles 32, 33,38, 60, 71, 109,
112, 121, 135, 142, 187,
216, 218, 240, 242, 257
Kean, Edmund 5, 9, 19, 42, 54, 80,
86, 90, 128, 245, 264
Keml)le, Miss F.inny 62-64
Kemhle, Stephen 41
Kent Circuit, The 20
Kilmarnock, Drama in ... 22, 45
245,259-261
King, T. C.
Lacy, T. H
Lacy, Walter ...
Leamington, Drama in
LeeJ.s, Drama in
Leicester, Julia
Leicester, Drama in ..
Lewes, George Henry
Lifeboat, Brooke Memorial
Limerick, Drama in ...
Liverpool, Drama in 1
47,
Londonderr}', Drama in
London, The S.S. 208,
Lytton, Lord
48
77
149, 238
21, 254
262
... 117
105, 118
275, 276
...14,140
5, 37, 40,
138, 239
... 14, 98
258, 260,
265-273
30
Mackay, Charles ... 21,33,40
Macready, W. C. 7, 10, II, 12. 22,
.34-36, 48, 40, 65-67, 75,
80, 112, 113, 120, 1:H 140
Manchester Stage, The 37-40, 47,
48, .'30-.'54, 02-67, 71-74,
83, 101-103, 105, 144-146,
2.30, 231, 239, 253
Marriott, Miss
Marston, J. Westland
Martin, Captain J. 15
AL'irylehone Theatre, The
Malthcwft, Mih.s .Julia
226, 250
79, 82, S3,
108, 110, 111
20S, 267-272
108
l(i:t, 200
PAGE
Mead, T 112, 142, 143
Melbourne Stage, The 156, 163-162,
167-181, 184-1S9, 191-217
^lontague (Dancing-master) 6
Miller, David Prince .. ... 47
Mills, Mr. and Mrs. W. E. ... 262
Montgomery, Walter... 61, 139
Morris, James 15, 24, 29, 46, 98, 99,
103, 104, 106, 109, 112, 113,
117, 143, 144,224-229,231,
2.32, 238, 240, 241, 249
Mowatt, Anna Cora 91, 1C4. 105, 115
Mudie, Miss ...
Mungall (Comedian) ..
Murray, Mr. and Mrs. Leigh 21
9
195
54,
112
New York Stage, The 119-123, 128
Xisbett, Mrs 67, 80
Northampton, Drama in ... 243
Oldham, Drama in ... ... 1(2
Oliver, Miss Patty 104
Olympic Theatre, The 75-91, 93,
103-107, 110-113
" Ornano," production of 146-148
"Outlaw, The" (poem) 31
Oxenford, John 276
Palmer, W. ...
Pauncefort, Miss
Perth, Drama in
Phelps, Samuel
22
258
12
34, 112, 140, 142,
182, 216, 218
Philadelphia Stage,The 121, 123, 127
Pitt, Charles 40
" Playgoer, An Old-Fashioned '
(Extracts) 27, 44, 60, 1 1 1 , 151, 244
Poole, Mr. and Mrs. Charles IfO,
20O, 204
Power, Tyrone ... 95, 151
Powrie, T. ... 115,226,259,260
Pritchard, John 253
Read, Huchanan
Kobins, Hruton
Rochdale, Drama in
Rodgers, James
liogerH, (;. 11. ...
... 184
.48, 49
69
... 43, 45
.LjO, 161, 181
/nlc'x.
283
PAOK
PAGE
Rowe, George Fawcett
19G, 204
Tonks, John
.. 146, 148, 149, IG.j
Russell, W. II.
... 7, 13
Toole, J. L. .
275
Ryder, John ...
232, 233
Sadler's Wells Theatre 142, 250, 251
St. Louis, Drama in 124
Sal villi, Si<,'nor... 50, 83-85, 233
Satelle, .M 5
Seaman, Miss Julia 253
Seymour (Comedian) .. 14, 58
Seymour, Mrs. ... 21, .S9, 104, 108
Shetlield Stage, The 23, 29, 54,
138, 226
Sinclair, G. F. ...
Smith, E.T. ...
Smith, James ...
Spicer, Henry ...
Stailord, Wiiiiani
Stanhope, Miss...
Stirling, E.
Stirling, Mrs. ...
Stuart (Tragedian) 37, 71, 77
Sullivan, Barry 71-73, 101, 22i, 257
Swanton, J. G 202
Sydney (N.S.W.), Drama in lO-i-lGli,
178, 182, 183, 190, 191
230
131, 134, 137, 141,
142, 219, 226, 227
... 173,213, 214
... 73, 85, 91
145
239
46, 92, 108, 134
112
Terry, Edward...
Thome, Miss Sarah
261, 262
... 2.36
Vandenhoir, John 4:5, 44, 47, 50,
132, 193
Victoria Theatre, The ... 17
A'ining, .Mis.s Fanny ... 104, 193
Wallack, IT. J.
Wallack, Henry
Wallack, Lester
Waller, Mrs.
Warburlon, Eliot
Warden, J. F. ...
Warner, Mrs. ...
Watts, Walter ...
Webster, Benjamin
Webb, Henry 2
Wigan, Drama in
64, 65, 101
206, 214
...52,53
... 171
... 254
. 2.5S, 202, 277
... 10, 39
106, 107
. 91,109, 275
248, 259, 260
68
Wigan, ]SIr. and INIrs. Alfred 104
Wilton, J. Hall 118, 120, 121, 12.3,
143, 154, 155, 166, 206
Wilton, Marie (Mrs. liancroft) G4, 72
Woolgar, 40
Voung, Mr. and Mrs. Charles 157,
159, 1G9
Young, J. F 232, 233
Younge, Richard 38, 159, 161, 103,
168, 184, 192, 207, 212, 222-224, 227
ERR A T A .
Page 14, line 4— I'or "Pizzaro" read "Pizarro."
Page 42, line 9 from bottom— For " Whiteadder" read " Whitadder."
Page 133, in headline— For " Calaynos " read "The Betrothal."
Page 213, line 7 from bottom — For " hy " read "by."
I'liiited by W. <fc G. B.^IRD, Royal Avenue, I'.elfast.
J
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