Mr. T. P. Cooke in Melodrama and Pantomime
During the Christmas of 1810 or 1811, Mr. T. P. Cooke was a member of the Theatre Royal, Dublin, which could boast of a company including the names of Miss O’Neil, afterwards Lady Beecher, then in her teens; Miss Walstein, Messrs. Conway, Farren, and others of histrionic fame. Sir Walter Scott’s Lady of the Lake had been published on the 10th of May, 1810, and the critics of the day had pronounced it to be “the most interesting, romantic, picturesque, and graceful” of the author’s poems. Managers were anxious to produce a version of the Lady of the Lake upon the stage, and no one was more prompt in bringing one forward than the lessee of the Theatre Royal, Dublin. The cast was powerful. Misses O’Neil and Walstein were the representatives of the chieftain’s daughter, Ellen Douglas, and the crazed and captive lowland maid, Blanche of Devon; Malcolm Græme was well acted; Conway looked the Knight of Snowdon, James Fitzjames, to the life; and T. P. Cooke appeared to the greatest advantage as Roderick Vick Alpine Roderick Dhu. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the scenery; and the drama created a furore among the warm-hearted Emeralders. As the manager acted upon the principle of not “keeping more cats than could kill mice,” the services of some of his dramatic performers were pressed into afterpieces; and, as the pantomime of Harlequin and Mother Goose had made a great sensation in London, it was brought out in the capital of the sister isle—T. P. Cooke doffing his picturesque Highland costume for that of Squire Bugle, afterwards Clown. No one that had seen the noble bearing of Vick Alpine in the mountain pass, exclaiming:—
“These are Clan-Alpine’s warriors true;
And, Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu,”
would have recognized the same being when equipped in the loose hunting-dress of the Squire or the grotesque garb of the Clown. The pantomime went off well, and, although T. P. Cooke wanted the fun of Grimaldi, he, by the aid of youth and great agility, bustled through the part most satisfactorily.
At the termination of the performance, which had been honoured by the presence of the Lord-Lieutenant, Charles, fourth Duke of Richmond, the Duchess, and her then young and numerous family, the Duke was persuaded by two of his sons, Lords William and Frederick—then Westminster boys—to go behind the scenes to look at the wonderful goose. The manager, wax-candles in hand, after the most approved manner of receiving illustrious guests, conducted the Duke, his two sons, and a young daughter to the stage and green-room, and the pantomimic tricks were duly displayed by the attentive property-man, who explained to the young noblemen the mysteries of the world behind the curtain: how the transformation-scene was managed; how the sprites descended and ascended through the “traps;” how the nimble Harlequin, the active Clown, and the “slippered Pantaloon” were caught in blankets after their wonderful leaps through clock-dials, shop-windows, picture-frames, and looking-glasses; how the smallest of boys was introduced into a sham goose’s skin; how a few daubs of paint, some gold and silver leaf, and green tinsel, produced the splendid fairy scene; how some spangles sewn on a coarse parti-coloured suit made Harlequin appear glittering like gold; how a white calico garb, with a few quaint red and blue devices, some chalk and red paint, could change the “human face divine” to that of a mask. After inspecting everything worthy of note behind the scenes, the Duke and his family proceeded to their carriage, when, at the entrance to the green-room, they met the Clown, who had remained behind to arrange some stage-business with the Harlequin. “I forget his name,” said the Duke, who, although he patronized the drama, did not take especial interest in the performance. “Cooke,” responded the manager. “I congratulate you, Mr. Cooke,” said his Grace. “I’ve seen Grimaldi in the part, and am delighted with your performance.” Cooke bowed his acknowledgments. “Pray,” continued the Lord-Lieutenant, “is Mr. T. P. Cooke, who looked so well and acted Roderick Vick Alpine with such spirit, any relation of yours?”—“A very near one,” responded the actor. “He stands before you; for, Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu!” The Duke smiled, shook hands with him, declaring he had never witnessed such a wonderful metamorphose.