Butler’s gifted son, Samuel William, was buried in Ardwick Cemetery, Manchester. A gravestone placed to his memory bears the following eloquent inscription by Charles Swain:—
| Here rest the mortal remains of Samuel William Butler, Tragedian. In him the stage lost a highly-gifted and accomplished actor, one by whose tongue the noblest creations of the poet found truthful utterance. After long and severe suffering he departed this life the 17th day of July, in the year of our Lord 1845. Aged 41 years. |
| Whence this ambition, whence this proud desire, This love of fame, this longing to aspire? To gather laurels in their greenest bloom, To honour life and sanctify the tomb? ’Tis the Divinity that never dies, Which prompts the soul of genius still to rise. Though fades the Laurel, leaf by leaf away, The soul hath prescience of a fadeless day; And God’s eternal promise, like a star, From faded hopes still points to hopes afar; Where weary hearts for consolation trust, And bliss immortal quickens from the dust. On this great hope, the painter, actor, bard, And all who ever strove for Fame’s reward, Must rest at last: and all that earth have trod Still need the grace of a forgiving God! |
An interesting sketch of the life of Butler, from the pen of John Evans, is given in the “Papers of the Manchester Literary Club,” vol. iii., published 1877.
In the Necropolis, Glasgow, is a monument representing the stage and proscenium of a theatre, placed to the memory of John Henry Alexander, of the Theatre Royal, Glasgow. He was a native of Dunse, Berwickshire, and was born July 31st, 1796. At an early age, says Dr. Rogers, his parents removed to Glasgow, where, in his thirteenth year, he was apprenticed to a hosier. With a remarkable taste for mimicry he practised private theatricals; and having attracted the notice of the managers of Queen Street Theatre, he obtained an opportunity of publicly exhibiting his gifts. In his sixteenth year he adopted the histrionic profession. For some seasons he was employed in a theatre at Newcastle; he subsequently performed at Carlisle, and afterwards in the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh. At Edinburgh his successful impersonations of Dandie Dinmont and other characters of the Waverley novels gained him the friendship of Sir Walter Scott. After some changes he accepted the managership of the Dunlop Street Theatre, Glasgow, of which he became proprietor in 1829. He rebuilt the structure in 1840; it was partially destroyed by fire on the 17th February, 1849, when sixty-five persons unhappily perished. The shock which he experienced on this occasion seriously affected his health, and in 1851 he found it expedient to retire from his profession. He died on the 15th December, 1851, aged fifty-five. On his tombstone are inscribed these lines from the pen of Mr. James Hedderwick, the editor of the Glasgow Citizen:—
| Fallen is the curtain, the last scene is o’er, The favourite actor treads life’s stage no more. Oft lavish plaudits from the crowd he drew, And laughing eyes confessed his humour true; Here fond affection rears this sculptured stone, For virtues not enacted, but his own. A constancy unshaken unto death, A truth unswerving, and a Christian’s faith; Who knew him best have cause to mourn him most. Oh, weep the man, more than the actor lost! Unnumbered parts he play’d yet to the end, His best were those of husband, father, friend. |
In many collections of epitaphs the following is stated to be inscribed on a gravestone at Gillingham, but we are informed by the Vicar that no such epitaph is to be found, nor is there any trace of it having been placed there at any time:—
Sacred
To the memory of
Thomas Jackson, Comedian,
Who was engaged 21st of December, 1741, to play a comic cast of characters, in this great theatre—the world; for many of which he was prompted by nature to excel.
The season being ended, his benefit over, the charges all paid, and his account closed, he made his exit in the tragedy of Death, on the 17th of March, 1798, in full assurance of being called once more to rehearsal; where he hopes to find his forfeits all cleared, his cast of parts bettered, and his situation made agreeable, by Him who paid the great stock-debt, for the love He bore to performers in general.
The next epitaph was written by Swift on Dicky Pearce, who died 1728, aged 63 years. He was a famous fool, and his name carries us back to the time when kings and noblemen employed jesters for the delectation of themselves and their friends. It is from Beckley, and reads as follows:—