Altogether, one cannot but exclaim, as one looks at this crude but striking piece--this is Ireland! The Ireland of zealots and traitors, of rebels and the meek, of madmen and martyrs, of heroes and assassins. Ireland the irrational and illogical, who disconcerts our sympathies after winning them, and who has doubtless still further surprises in store for History, already at a loss how to record her actions, how to explain her character, what verdict to pronounce upon her.
The Vogue of Burlesque--Burnand's _Ixion_--H. J. Byron--The Influence of Burlesque upon the Moral Tone of the Stage--Marie Wilton's _début_--A Letter from Dickens--Founding of the "Prince of Wales's"--Tom Robertson, his Life as Actor and Author--His Journalistic Career--London Bohemia in 1865--Sothern.
The taste, the rage for Burlesque, dates from almost the same moment as the introduction of the Boucicault drama. The two things have, however, nothing else in common, unless it be that neither one nor the other pertains to literature. Burlesque is the English form, under an un-English name, of that kind of musical parody in which we French used at that time to delight, and of which the operetta was born. In London this exotic _genre_ became quickly acclimatised by success.
I shall take Burnand's _Ixion_ as a type, for by reason of its never-ending popularity it may be regarded as a masterpiece of its kind. It is in verse. What kind of verse may be imagined when I add that almost every line contains at least one pun. The subject is a matter of no consequence; the whole point of the piece consists in putting modern sentiments and expressions into the mouths of characters taken from antiquity. The people rebel and burn Ixion's palace. Jupiter appears in answer to his invocation. "Are you insured?" he inquires. "Yes," replies Ixion, "with all the best Insurance Agencies. But you see, when it comes to paying you the money, they let you whistle for it." Jupiter invites him to come to Olympus. "We lunch at half-past one. Don't forget." Mercury, charged to conduct Ixion thither, hails an aërial omnibus. "Come on for Olympus! Room for one outside!" We are shown Olympus. The meal is nearly over. Juno asks Venus the name of her dressmaker, and sends a servant to tell "the Master" that "coffee is served." Neptune talks nautical lingo like the hero of _Black-eyed Susan_, and goes nowhere unaccompanied by a French sailor and an English Jack-Tar, who are themselves bosom friends. The Frenchman executes a hornpipe out of good-fellowship towards his mate, whilst the Englishman expresses his regard for "La France" by performing the cancan. Apollo plays an English sun to the life--he never shows himself. He remains shut up in his office with his secretary, the Clerk of the Weather, who, like all his kind, scribbles verses and newspaper articles on paper bearing the Government stamp.