54 The Theatre—Its Literature, and General Arrangement. [JULY, 
- Powers frequently exist in actors, of which they are not at all aware. As 
often, they are limited in a manner for which it is impossible to account; or 
thwarted by faults, which never can be got rid of, and yet which seem the 
simplest in the world to overcome. At the Circus, when it was rented some 
years back, by Elliston, there was an actor of the name of Smith; called, from 
his singularly fortunate performance of Three Fingered Jack, Mr. Obi Smith. 
This gentleman, who is now a pantomime actor at Drury-lane theatre—and a 
very ingenious man—was eminent in assassins, sorcerers, the moss-trooping 
heroes of Sir Walter Scott’s poems, and other romantic characters in which a 
bold, and rather gigantic figure could be turned to good account. On one oc- 
easion, a person who played the leading part in a burlesque piece was taken ill ; 
and, for fault of any body else at hand, Mr. Obi Smith undertook the part ; 
and his performance was so extraordinary, that he became instantly, by acclama- 
tion, the burlesque actor of his theatre !—playing this character, which had before 
been turned to little account, forty or fifty nights successively. Smith has since 
played several comic characters, of a coarse description, with great success at 
Drury-lane; and might probably do more. His Captain Goff, in a play taken 
from The Pirate, was one of the finest pictures, perhaps, ever seen upon the 
stage. He fills up his time with studying costumes, and acting Don Juan 
demons—a cast of business in which he is unequalled; is a very grave man in 
his manners and demeanour; and has very little idea, probably, when he plays 
comic characters, why it is that the people laugh at him. 
Another actor, of the same theatre (Mr. T. P. Cooke), who has since become 
better known to the public than Mr. Smith, affords a very singular instance of 
talent for the stage where slight accident probably would have left it entirely 
undiscovered. And of talent, too, which, though very considerable and conver- 
tible, is still hampered with blemishes, seemingly slight, which yet prevent its ever 
reaching finish and excellence. Mr. Cooke was a dancer in the “ figure,” as it 
is called, at the Circus—that is, a person who fills up the ballet, and walks in 
processions ; and his first step towards greatness was in undertaking the part of 
Clown in a harlequin pantomime, in the absence of a Mr. Bradbury; to whom 
Cooke personally—excepting only the material circumstance of his not being a 
tumbler by profession—bore some trifling resemblance. The talent of this man 
for the stage is perfectly extraordinary ; and the probability is that, if he had 
enjoyed the advantages of early education, he would have been one of the 
best actors of the day. He is a very excellent actor—a very famous one 
indeed, of serious pantomine—though, in that department, not equal to Mr. 
Smith. He was a very considerable comie dancer, rider, and combatant, for a 
long time with one of the troops of Equestrians. He plays Frenchmen and 
Germans admirably ; sailors (forecastle men), better than any actor upon the 
‘stage ; and even characters of the high drama, with so much ability, though he 
never can fully succeed in them—that they tried him once on Drury-lane stage, 
in the character of Glenalvon. This Mr. Cooke has been playing a part lately 
at Terry’s little theatre, in a piece taken from American Cooper’s novel, The 
Pilot, in a manner—it is the character of Long Tom, the boatswain—that could 
not have been equalled by any man upon the stage. He played another charac- 
ter, and of a far more refined description, in a little piece called The Miller’s 
Maid, taken from Bloomfield’s poem, at the Lyceum Theatre; and, acting by 
the side of Emery, and in a character in which the last amazingly distinguished 
himself—it was a performance very nearly, if not quite, equal to his Robert 
Tyke—it became difficult to decidé which performer shewed the more talent of 
the two. In characters of a loftier and more heroic stamp, in which this actor is 
often employed, he breaks down bya curious fatality. As long as he has to con- 
fine himself to even speaking, or to the expression of sentiments of gallantry or 
courtesy, he is pleasant, generally, and even ina degree graceful; though his 
intonation is of a vulgar quality, and his deportment can never be elegant or 
refined; but the very moment that he has to assume apparent “ desert,’ —to he- 
haughty, dignified, or even particularly impressive—he instantly, as if under 
the influence ofa spell, completely burlesques the whole feeling and situation ;— 
becomes perfectly ridiculous and intolerable, ina regular theatre; and not very 
