mr. toole in "off the line."
Mr. Toole then pointed out to me James Wallack, the father of the celebrated American actor, Lester Wallack, in his favourite character of The Brigand. “Ah!” said Mr. Toole, “that reminds me of an anecdote that’s told about James Wallack, and which ought to be a warning to actors never to make speeches from the stage. Wallack was playing The Brigand one night, and he was in the midst of his great dying scene, when an old gentleman, who was sitting in the stalls, got up and put on his hat, tied a scarf round his neck, and buttoned up his coat with great deliberation. Wallack got very irritated, and just as the old gentleman was going out, he called out to him, ‘The piece is not finished yet, sir.’ The old gentleman, who was not in the least disconcerted, replied, ‘Thank you, Mr. Wallack, I have seen quite enough.’”
mr. toole as "the don."
When we returned to the drawing room, into which I had first been shown, having specially noted on my way through the hall Keeley Halswelle’s sketch of Mr. Toole as The Artful Dodger in 1854, and a few pages from Thackeray’s MSS. of “Philip” which hung upon the wall, Mr. Toole took out an enormous photographic album which contained the portraits of all the celebrities, big and little—and some of them were very big indeed, and some of them were very small—who had been present at a great banquet which was given in Mr. Toole’s honour before he left England for his Australian tour. Everyone was there—noblemen, journalists, and actors; legal luminaries and ecclesiastical dignitaries, people of social prominence and scientific fame; all the principal figures, indeed, that go to the making of this vast body politic. “I told a gentleman on board ship,” humorously remarked Mr. Toole, “that these were all the members of my company. I don’t know if he believed me or not.” Then came albums full of autographs, old playbills, portraits of celebrated actors long since crumbled into the dust, letters the writing of which was fast fading away, a characteristic letter from Charles Dickens acknowledging a beautiful paper knife which Toole had sent him.
One of the letters which Mr. Toole most prizes, and the prayer of which, with Mr. Hollingshead’s assistance, he was delighted to grant, is the following characteristic epistle:—
“Belle Vue Mansions, Brighton, August 6th, 1873.
“My dear Toole,—Were you ever in a mess? If you never were I can explain it to you, having been in several; indeed, I don’t mind confessing to you that I am in one now, and, strange to say, you are perhaps the only man who can get me out of it. You need not button up your pockets, it isn’t a pecuniary one. Only fancy! after thirty years’ practice and experience I have made a mistake in my dates, and for the first time in my life find myself engaged to two managers at the same time. Now, they say a man cannot serve two masters, but I can if they will come one after the other, only one at a time, one down, t’other come on; but to play at Bristol and the Gaiety on the same night (and keep it up for a week) I don’t see my way to accomplish. In a moment of enthusiasm I engaged to begin with Chute on September 29th, and I had scarcely done so when Hollingshead reminded me that I was booked to begin with him on that date, and that it could not be altered. Conceive my dismay. Chute holds fast—‘can’t be altered.’ So does Hollingshead—‘can’t be altered.’ Now, Toole—dear Toole, beloved Toole—can’t you stay a week longer at the Gaiety? Can’t you let me begin there on Monday, October 6th (as I thought I did), and get me out of my dilemma? Can’t you make this sacrifice to friendship, and put three or four hundred more into your pocket? Virtue is not its own reward, but an extra week of fine business is. Now, Toole—adored Tooley—the best of men—first of comedians—most amiable of your sex—burst into tears—throw your arms and sob out, ‘Do with me as thou wilt—play me another week—pay me another three hundred, and be happy.’ Breathless with anxiety, yet swelling with hope, I must await your answer. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, and even telegraph ‘Yes,’ rather than keep me in suspense. What’s a week to an able-bodied low comedian? Child’s play! Why, you’ll be wanting to throw in morning performances as well to keep you from rusting. It really is a chance for you. Avail yourself of it and bless me, and I’ll bless you, and Hollingshead will bless us both, and Chute will bless us all.
“With my intermediate blessing, ever faithfully yours,