A RAMBLE WITH J. L. TOOLE.

Otago Witness, Issue 1892, 15 May 1890, Page 32

A RAMBLE WITH J. L. TOOLE.

Bt E. J. H.— (The Argus.)

"I like the Melbourne streets," Bays Mr Toole ; " I admire their length and breadth, and the trama are just perfection ; they are to me a source of never-failing interest. At first it struck me as peculiar to see the great diversity of buildings — the fine blocks and the mean ones elbowing one another, but now I've got accustomed to it, and like them amazingly. Suppose we take a ramble."

A ramble with Mr Toole, as I have found out by experience, often means one continuous side-splitting farce, in which the comedian indulges for his own special edification and that of his companions, and in which the actors are himself and any chance people he may happen to meet. Toole has long, been known as an inveterate practical joker, though that iB too harsh a term to apply to the most genial of men, besides being somewhat of a misnomer. His jokes, be it said, are always kindly and baneful to no one, for he never carries them to a point where, if the joke happens to be discovered, the laugh would not go all the way round. A born humourist, frequently bubbling ovec with mirth and high spirits, he takes a boyish delight in mystifying people, declaring it to be worth any amount of trouble only to watch their face?. He extracts as much amusement out of commonplace everyday life and people as any man living, and yet I venture to Bay that not one of his pranks ha 3 ever cost him, or the man, woman, or child on whom it has been played, a moment's unpleasant reflection. Indeed, on more than one occasion, I have observed that he makes some grotesque piece of absurdity the excuse for doing a kindly and thoughtful action, and precisely to the people with whom such

experiences are most rare. A shrewd, observant study of humau nature, and a most wonderful mimic, there is but little doubt thac many of the effects with which he convul&es his audiences he has learnt in some of these cnance eucounters, aud is thus always studying from living models. But the primary motive underlying his harmless escapades is not 6tudy, bub fun, pure and simple. •• I like a little fuu," he says, " and I believe it does one good to indulge in it occasionally. Fuu helps to keep a man from getting old, sustains his interest in people, brushes the cobwebs away, and serves to distract sad thoughts." Where so much depends on facial expression, intonation of voice, gesture, and general demeanour, it is well nigh a hopeless task to endeavour to give an adequate idea of the actor's jokes. It is not the joke itself which imposes such a strain' on the bystander's gravity, as the comedian's manner. Many of his mosthumourouß acts and sallies, if attempted or repeated by a less inimitable artist, would, to use a homely but expressive phrase, fall very flat, and to be thoroughly impressed with tho consciousness of this fact it is only necessary to attempt to reproduce them on paper. " Suppose we take a ramble," says Mr Toole, and his two companions gladly asse. ting, we issue from the Jhotel, and are about to take a tramcar, when the actor, sayiDg, " Wait a moment," steps up to a stranger passing by, grasps hi.s hand with effusive warmth, and bursts out with, " Well, lam delighted to see you ! I wanted to explain all about that dinner, you know. I waited for you some time after, but you've been placed iv the same position yourself, aud of course understood it all. Everyone said the same thing, and, as you know, a matter of that sort always turns out perfectly satisfactory, and he said he knew yon held to your opinions, and when we mentioned the subject he said ho hoped "

Here the stranger, who had been vainly endeavouring to get a word in edgeways, and across whose face had flitted the puzzled expression of one making a futile effort to recall some forgotten circumstance and person, managed to quaver out in a mild uncertain toue: "I'm afraid, sir, you are making a mistake. My name is Brown, and I — er ■ "

A look of quite rapturous joy and good humour now overspread the comedian's countenance — such an expression as one might; avmuie on discovering a long loM; friend— and with greater warmth and volubility than ever, he exclaimed, " Why, of course it is ! What :v ridiculous mistake for me to make, to be sure. I always mix you and your brother up, somehow. My dear Mr Brown, I've been looking out for you for days past. Charlie left, as you kuow, and (here sinking into a confidential tone) he said to me, " Tell Brown when you see him thut I'll write and explain that little ciroumstanoe,' aud my friend, Mr Others, brought all sorts of messages, and said he would call upon you as soon as he could possibly manage it, and I knew it would be all right. I am glad to see you looking so well. Excuse me rushing off in this manner, won't you? but I have to catch a tram. Good bye." And the actor bustles across the street and seats himself beside us on the dummy. When we looked back we saw the stranger standing stock still on the pavemeat, gazing after us, and looking like one suddenly aroused from sleep — a monument of blank amazement.

" I always notice," says Toole, " when a man is taken unawares in that fashion he always supplies you with his name himself, in the hope that it will elucidate the mystery ; but it never does in my case. Of course, when lam completely bowled out, I apologise most politely for my mistake, and then they can't say anything. Another thing I've noticed is, that though people blazon forth their names over their shop doors, when you enter and ask for the proprietor by name, and keep on addressing him by name, they are puzzled to know how you came to be so familiar with it, and are all the time labouring under a dim impression that they have met you somewhere privately, and can't recall the circumstance."

" I have to sit again for my photograph, and you may as well come along with me. Having my photograph taken always reminds me of one occasion when I was taken a stroll on Hampstead Heath with Beerbohm Tree. We met a little travelling photographer who wanted us to have our pictures taken for 6d each, frame included.

" • But I've never had my picture taken before,' I said, ' does it hurt much ? ' • Why, Lor' bless you ! no,' he says, • it's as easy as anythink. Just you stand steady, and I'll take yer in two minits.'

" • But I'm so nervous— you must let me hold my friend's hand, and you must take us together. What do you put that block cloth over your head for ? Have you hurt yourself ? '

" This necessitated his leaving off to explain to us the use of the black cloth, and by that time we told him we had become so nervous that he must promise not to look at us while we were being taken. The moment he turned his face and began counting Tree and I made the most frightful grimaces imaginable at the camera. The man took out the nogative, scrutinised it with a puzzled expression, and said'J cpn't make it out. Sometbin's gone wrong — yer faces have come out like puddens, they're "all over the shop. 'Aye another try gents.' We had another 'try,' repeating our protests of nervousness, and inducing him to turn his head away. We contorted our faces worse than before, and you never saw such extraordinary productions in your life as those photographs. The man was very crestfallen, and we told him we did not think much of his machine, paid our money, and strolled on. Presently we were accosted by another photographer, who invited us to have our portraits taken.

" • How much ? ' we asked him, and when he quoted the same price as the first man, we said, why, we have just had them taken by a fellow over there, and he only charged us 2d each, bnt we were not very well pleased with them, and have a mind to try you.'

" He looked furiously in the direction of tho other man, and his temper did not improve when he came to examine the negative, because we went through exactly the same fooling as before. We paid, and left him with the very evident intention stamped on his countenance of going over to • have it out ' with his rival for understilling him and thus ruining trade.

"Of course we subsequently -bestowed life annuities on both of these men."

We had now arrived at the photographer's,, and followed Toole into the little office, the walls of which, as is usual with such places, were hung with every imaginable specimen of work done on the premises. Consequently we were not prepared to see Toole leau over the counter and ask the young woman attendant if she could recommend him to any place in Melbourne where he could have .his photograph taken. The girl stared at him, but there was such a look of humble and inquiring gravity in his face that she only smiled, and said he could have his likeness taken there.

" Yes,"said Toole in a deprecatingly considerate tone of voice, " but I shouldn't like to put you out, yoa know. Now, if you could tell me oS some place where they make a business of it, I should be so much obliged ?"

The girl, repressing a tendency to laugh, for his manner was full of a pleading earnestness, assured him that they made a business of nofclw

ing else, and asked what style he would like to be taken in.

"Well," he answered thoughtfully, "I don't quite know, for I was never taken before, and I don't know which style hurts the most. I believe a group is the least painful form, so I think the three of us would like to be taken in

ajgroup." " Well now, here is a group. Would you like to be taken in this style ? " and she handed him one of those remarkable pictures in which two young men stood bolt upright in the background, while three others were were disposed at their feet in what are called picturesque attitudes, the whole five looking as stiff and uncomforfc able as disconcerted pickpockets. Toole gazed at this sadly for a few minutes and plaintively remarked, " Oh, I see — it takes five to make a group — just you wait here a moment while I run downstairs and get a couple of men out of the street to make up the number, so we can be taken in a group," and he turned to go. " No, no,"' said the girl, «• there are five here— I haven't a group of three to show you, but three can be taken just as well as five." " But wouldn't it be more painful with only three?" Toole asked innocently, but got no answer, for the girl dived behind a little screen, from which she presently emerged with a hightened colour, and said if we would please to step upstairs to the next floor but one she would arrange everything through the speaking tube. Now, it is a bad thing to commence laughing when you are not quite certain of your power to stop, and I am sorry to say one of Mr Toole's companions was in this case by the time we reached the first landing. This was occupied by a merchant's office full of packing cases and samples, in which two or three clerks were working, while the man of business was seated at a little desk all by himself. With a hurried injunction of " Don't laugh," Toole preceded us straight into the toom, and addressing the man at the desk with a smile of cheerful serenity, said, "We have spoken to the young lady downstairs, and she arranged us through the speaking tube. We want a group of three, please, as I understand it doesn't hurt more than five, and I hope you won't keep us long, as I have an appointment."

I thought the man of business would have fallen backwards out of his chair, but he recovered himself, and said with a smile,

" I think, sir, you are mistaken." " Yes, we want to bo taken," said Toole, pretending to be deaf. "Any stylo you think beet, you know. I should like to arrange my hair first."

" I said, sir, I think you have made a mistake. If you want the photographer, he is on the next fiat."

"As flat as you like," Tuole answered. " I've seen some of 'em raised, but I don't think it any improvement. You won't keep us more than 10 minutes, will you?"

"You have come to the wrong office, sir," said the merchant, raising his voice. "What name did you want ?" " Oh, yes, we'll have a frame, if it's all the same price— not that I'm particular to a shilling or two. Perhaps you can show as some specimens?" Toole's sountenanee was smiling amiability itself. I felt my lips beginning to quiver when the merchant rose solemnly from his chair, leant on his knuckles across the desk, and proceeded to bawl directions how to find the studio upstairs to Toole, who listened intently with his glass in bis eye and his hand to his ear. But I missed the termination of the scene, for our other friend was suddenly seized with a violent fit of something between a cough and a sneeze, which Bounded so suspiciously like an uncontrollable outburst of laughter smothered in a handkerchief that I was obliged to lead him out and thump him on the back. We heard the directions being shouted out — half the city might have heard them for that matter — and presently Tools joined us not a bit flustered, and quietly remarking that it appeared we had made a mistake, for-the studio was on the floor above. As Mr Toole's man had actually been there in the morning and made an appointment for him with the photographer, no further pranks could be played there, and the sitting only occupying a few minutes we again descended to the street.

" I want to buy some cheap evening gloves," says Mr Toole. " I think you have never been with me to buy gloves, so you bad better come now. Where can we get some cheap ? "

I proposed some small shop in Bourke street, and we directed our steps thither. On the way we passed a hand barrow with some hawkers selling a kind of soft toffy, which they out off in slabs to suit the purchaser. Two or three boys stood round the barrow, gazing on the sweet stuff with longing eyes. Toole paused, bought a large slab, and murmuring, " Now I wonder which of you boys is the smartest," passed it round on a level with their months, but the action was so sudden and unexpected that nearly all the youngsters stepped back from the proffered dainty till it came the turn of a hungry-eyed little street Arab, who, with a sudden snap of his teeth, seen red the prize, and with a chuckle of satisfaction the comedian passed on. It will be remembered that Mr Toole when playing Rumford in " Artful Cards," pulls on a pair of gloves which apparently split to pieces in the operation, but that, of course, is a delusion, the gloves beiug cut in various places before the actor appears on the stage, and this generally involves destroying a fresh pair every night. Arrived at a small haberdasher's shop, Mr Toole and party — we had met some more friends, and consequently increased in number by this time — walked up to the counter, and that gentleman asked the single shopman present if he had some cheap evening gloves. " Gloves, sir ? Yessir. What size, sir ?"

" On, I think about nines will do, and j prefer them ventilated," Toole said, carelessly. The man presently returned with a box of white kid gloves, and said he thought they were about the size. " Are these ventilated gloves ?" Toole a^ked. " No, sir, I never heard of such things. We don't keep them," the shopman answered. " Don't keep them," said Toole, in a tone of unaffected surprise ; " why that's extraordinary. Everyone keeps ventilated gloves nowadays. You should keep them, you know, for they are bo much cooler and more comfortable. Just lend me a pair of scissors, and I'll show you what I mean."

The man handed the actor a small pair of scissors from his breast pocket, evidently expecting that he wanted to separate the gloves for the purpose of trying them on, and he gave quite a start of astonisment when Toole deliberately, with one snip, cut a ridiculous gash right across the back of the hand.

•■ There, that's better," said Toole, surveying the rent with great, satisfaction, "Just hold this end, will you? It is wonderful how much cooler a little ventilation makes a glove, and it looks much, batter, doesn't it, now ? (Here he made a cut across the palm.) In London most people are going in for ventilated gloves, and in India— (here a tremendous snip nearly severed a finger)— well, in India, you know, of course they wear nothing else. Hand me the other glove, please."

The man gulped down a laugh, and stared at the comedian to see if he could deteot the slightest trace of a smile, bat Toolo did not let

as much as an eyelash quiver, and went on cutting and snipping away as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Bub supposing tney don't fit you," one of Mr Toole's companions artfully suggested—" of course you'll have to change them." "Of course," said Toole composedly, but the shopman gave a convulsive start at the bare idea of such a thing, and was just beginning, "Well, sir, I really don't think"— when Toole stopped him with an autihorative " I always get my gloves changed when they don't fit." He then strained our gravity to the utmost by drawing them on in the most gingerly fashion, as though in fear of sullying their virgin purity. Naturally some of his fingers came through the rents, but this did not deter him from turning his hand to the shopman and asking him to express his eandirt opinion if the ventilation wasn't an improvement. The man's countenance was a study. It expressed an irresistible longing to laugh, only restrained by a fear of annoying his customer, and he also clearly entertained a suspicion of contempt for a man who would thus mangle gloves, and consider it an improvement. " Is there anything else I can show you Bir?" he asked, when at length two pairs of gloves had been purchased and po treated. "Yes," said Toole politely, "I should like to see some handkerchiefs with borders and sleeves." Some of our party walked suddenly out into the street. The shopman wheeled round quickly to see if we were laughing, but finding us a? sober as undertakers, evidently concluded that we wire lunatics, and prepared to accept the situation. "I have handkerchiefs with borders, sir," he said gravely, " but I haven't any with sleeves. I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean ! " " Dtar me," said Toole, in a tone of blended vexation and surprise, " Not got handkerchiefs with sleeves ? Why you can get them everywhere in London— people use nothing else. Think of the 'arm you might come to without a sleeve. I can't take them without sleeves." A bright idea apparently seized the man. " Perhaps, sir, what you want is something to wear ? " " Just so," said Toole, blandly. " Something to put on going out at night, sir ? " " Yes ; to go home in the middle of the night," answered Toole, iv a short, abrupt tone ; " Good evening ! " and he walked out. " The first time I ever bought gloves for Rumford," says Toole, " I really think the shopman took me for a lunatic. I had asked him to hand me that little pair of scissors, pointing to a giant pair of tailor's shears ; and then on leaving — it was 9 o'clock at night, and raining hard— l nodded to him, and said, " Lovely day, isn't it ? Good morning ! " and just aa I passed the door made a fearful grimace at him. He just fell against the counter with astonishment. It is not to be assumed that of the people on whom the actor plays his pranks all, or any of them, are necessarily fools because they don't at once see through his nonsence. His intimate friends and every-day associates are as often as not his victims, for his humour is continually taking some new and totally unexpected direction, and when need be he can assume a gravity and earnestness of demeanour which precludes all suspicion of a joke. I pass over such trifles in our ramble as Mr Toole walking into a large banking chamber, putting down a shilling on the teller's counter, ordering two brandies and sodas, and then becoming so absorbed in conversation with a friend that it took a quarter of an hour to make him understand his mistake. Or his going into a florist's— down whose shop window a stream of water is constantly flowing — to warm them, with a face full of anxious alarm, that the bath upstairs was leaking, or some pipe must have exploded. But on our way homeward we passed a fishmonger's shop whose window displayed only crayfish and oysters, on the top of which was coiled an ordinary garden hose. Toole asked the man what he wanted for the eels. " The crayfish you mean, sir— a shilling each," he answered. " I don't mean the crayfish, I mean the eels." II We haven't got any eels, sir." "Well, whab do you call these?" asked Toole, triumphantly pointing to the coil of hose. "Why, Lord bless my soul! That's the hose ! " • Toole turned savagely to his friend, and wanted to know what was the sen3e of taking him to an ironmonger's shop when he said he wanted to buy fish, and marched off in an apparent fit of indignation. This episode caused the fishmonger to stand in a thoughtful attitude at his shop door, looking after us for some minutes. " After calling • Wolf ' so often, aren't you afraid of being properly caught sometimes ? " one of the party inquired of the comedian. " Oh, no ! I never play the same joke, or any joke, if I can help it, twice on the same person, and if you are discovered there is always a way out of the difficulty. But your mentioning the word • wolf ' reminds me of the song oE that name, which of course you have all heard. There was some low music hall fellow, who used continually to sing • The Wolf ' at the halls most frequented by soldiers and sailors, and one night — being very hoarse from the combined effects of a bad cold and the controlling influence •f drink— he sang so abominably that his audience hissed him, and yelled words r;o the effect that he was singing the wrong air, had completely lost the tune, &c. He pulled himself together, and explained the circumstance by saying, « The fact of the matter is, I've sang this confounded " Wolf " so often that I've sang all the confounded 'air off him." All who have seen Mr Toole in the part of Caleb Plummer need no assurance that he can be as pathetic in his serious vein as he can be as humorous in his assumptions of comic or eccentrio character. Similarly, in his rambles, the actor does not always wear the cap and bells. Mr Toole indulges in serious rambles equally with such as I have here hinted at— excursions where sad sights suggest, not only bad thoughts, but to such kindly natures as his the possibility of alleviating some of that sadness, and in such instances, with the comedian, suggestion and action are invariably wedded. His perception of pathos is as keen as his perception of humour, and not only in hh tastes and temperament, but in the employment of his few leisure hours, Mr Toole is an exemplification of the narrowness of that borderland that separates laughter from tears.

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