This is the other:
“THE RECRUITING OFFICER.”
Another “first night” in Mr. Daly’s comfortable theater, and the same assemblage of well-dressed people, with faces one knows by sight on every side, and pleasurable expectancy the predominating sensation. “Love on Crutches” has ambled gracefully out of sight, and instead of the fresh daintiness of the modern play there were to come rollicking humor, the buoyant spirits, the intrigue and broad wit of old English comedy. No longer the New York fine lady, Miss Rehan was to depict the healthy English maiden of nearly two centuries ago, and to masquerade as well in the character of Jack Wilful; Mr. Drew, who had so cleverly portrayed the young New Yorker of the last quarter of the nineteenth century, was to assume the becoming uniform, the rakish air, and the frolicsome manners of a British officer in the first quarter of the eighteenth; instead of a meek and virtuous family physician, Mr. Lewis was to be seen as a rattling and reprehensible recruiting sergeant. In other words, George Farquhar’s bright and witty comedy, “The Recruiting Officer,” was to be revealed to a generation of playgoers who scarcely remembered even its title, so long had it been left upon the shelf. Pleasurable expectations of the production were in many respects realized. The comedy was tastefully mounted, though without extravagance, the costumes were handsome and appropriate to the time represented, and consequently the stage pictures revealed were both handsome and quaint. That the old-time flavor was fully preserved in the action it would be folly to say. An intelligent performance of Farquhar’s comedy was given, however, with much of the original text, and everybody present interested in the history and literature of the English stage found abundant entertainment. Mr. Daly has compressed the five acts of Farquhar into three, slightly altering the sequence of some of the scenes, expunging lines of dubious meaning, and many not at all dubious, and quickening the dénouement. While “The Recruiting Officer,” is not so ingeniously constructed as “The Beaux’ Stratagem,” its dialogue bristles with repartee, every character is clearly defined, and the plot is clever though slight. The scene is laid at Shrewsbury, and the personages are simple townsfolk and military men. There is a quartet of lovers, a wise father, a noisy braggart, the Sergeant, who fills the position of intriguing valet to the hero, a designing lady’s maid, a knowing market girl, and a trio of bumpkins. The heroine, being sent away by her father to avoid her lover, returns in male attire to test the hero’s affections, and after some strange experiences weds him. The play, of course, has famous associations. Peg Woffington played Sylvia when the veteran Quin was Justice Balance; Elliston played Captain Plume, and in later years this was one of Charles Kemble’s favorite parts; Munden and Knight were the original representatives of the two recruits, Pearmain and Appletree,[16] and Irish Johnstone was Sergeant Kite. In that cast Ann Oldfield was Sylvia, Cibber Brazen and Wilks, Farquhar’s nearest friend, Captain Plume. It was a fancy of Farquhar’s friends that Plume was a portrait of himself. He had been a dashing officer during his brief and eventful career, as well as actor and dramatist. Farquhar’s life was a sad one, in spite of the legacy of merriment he left to the world in his works. He left college to go upon the stage, which, after accidentally wounding a brother actor in a fencing combat, he abandoned for the army. He died at the age of thirty, leaving no fortune for his family, although within a decade he had written seven successful comedies, “Love and a Bottle,” “The Constant Couple,” “The Inconstant; or, Wine Works Wonders,” “The Stage Coach,” “The Recruiting Officer,” and “The Beaux’ Stratagem,” during the run of which he expired, in the Spring of 1707. Farquhar was a man of genius, a keen observer, and, like most of his kind, a stanch foe to all pretense. His low-comedy characters were true to nature in their conceits and frailties, as well as in their manner of speech; his high-bred dames were not always circumspect in their behavior, while his young gentlemen were devil-may-care fellows, glib of tongue, affable, generous, but not exactly proper. He belonged to his age, and, compared with the work of some of his contemporaries and immediate predecessors, his writings were purity itself. With the exception of “The Inconstant” we do not remember that any of his comedies had been performed here in recent years, until “The Recruiting Officer” was seen last evening. They demand of actors dashing manners, freedom and breadth of style, which few performers of the present day possess. The charm of last evening’s representation lay in the portrayal of Sylvia by Miss Rehan. Indeed this was the only individual piece of work that could be said to have any charm, and although Sylvia is the heroine the part is scarcely more important than at least two of the others. Miss Rehan was not only successful in catching the spirit of the piece, and transmitting it to the audience, so far as her own part was concerned, but she invested the character with womanly tenderness and delicacy, and put more meaning into a few important lines of the text than appears on the surface. As Sylvia herself, she was the affectionate and dutiful daughter, who felt more sorrow for her brother’s death, doubtless, than the author intended; as Master Jack Wilful, and his alter ego, Captain Pinch, who took snuff with a pinch, and in short, could do anything at a pinch, her imitation of the foppish manners and languid nonchalance of the London buck was deliciously droll and seemed not a bit incongruous, though it is not likely that it was so pronounced as Mistress Ann Oldfield’s treatment of the same passages. Miss Rehan, in short, was thoroughly at home in the old comedy. If her work was not strictly in keeping with traditions, it was still delightful and artistic. She interpreted Farquhar in her own way, but without missing his meaning, except where his meaning would not be tasteful to a modern audience. Her treatment of the scenes with Rose, for instance, was admirable; and the tact and refinement of the actress were needed in these in spite of careful “editing” and expunging. It is needless to say that Miss Rehan presented a handsome picture in the fine raiment of Master Wilful, and the well-setting uniform of the gay Captain. Mr. Charles Fisher handled the character of old Balance in his accustomed manner; the mode of old comedy is familiar to this veteran, for he was educated to it, and was a rising actor when Farquhar’s comedy was last given at the old “Park,” forty-two years ago. Miss Dreher spoke the lines of languid Miss Melinda in the right spirit, and was a fine lady to the life, but the part is of little interest. Mr. Drew bore himself well in his uniform, and his acting was extremely good at some points, notably, in the combat with Brazen. But he lacks the joyous, rattling style essential to the proper rendering of such a character. No one, for instance, would ever take Captain Plume, as played by Mr. Drew, for a portrait of George Farquhar. Mr. Lewis, as Kite, was Mr. Lewis; Mr. Skinner, as Worthy, was Guy Roverly dressed for a masquerade; Brazen, in the hands of Mr. Parkes, should be renamed Wooden; Bullock was made by Mr. Gilbert, an ill-fed fellow, dry instead of unctuous, and the two recruits were colorless sketches. Miss Fielding was pretty and interesting as the chicken girl, and Miss Irwin amusing as Melinda’s maid. At times the performance dragged when Miss Rehan was off the stage, but Mr. Daly is to be thanked for the revival all the same, which, as we have intimated, is well worth seeing.
Which ends this second writer’s notice of the revival.
The first representation of the play was at Drury Lane in 1706. The original Sylvia was Mrs. Oldfield, a tall, beautiful, finely formed woman, with an exquisite, clear, and powerful voice, that made her as impressive in tragedy as she was fascinating in comedy. Fielding, the novelist, says that her “ravishing perfection made her the admiration of every eye and every ear”; and Colley Cibber and other contemporaries unite in giving her the most unstinted praise. Such an actress, in such a part as Sylvia, the most interesting character in the play, must have been very attractive, especially in that portion of it where Sylvia appears in male attire, dressed as a young officer. It was to her that Pope referred, according to Warton, in the well-known lines, descriptive of a feminine wish at the closing moment of life:
“Odious! in woollen! ’twould a saint provoke”
(Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke).
“No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace
Wrap my cold limbs and shade my lifeless face.
One would not, sure, be frightful when one’s dead
And—Betty—give this cheek a little Red.”
The original Captain Plume, the recruiting officer, was Wilks, the most distinguished actor at that time on the English stage, and this part continued for a long time thereafter to be a favorite one with actors who had the advantages of a handsome face, a fine person, and the temperament to impart to it that vivacity and airiness that the character requires. The original Kite, the recruiting sergeant, a part that affords great scope for the powers of a low comedian, was Estcourt, a famous mimic, of whom Colley Cibber says: “This man was so amazing and extraordinary a mimic that no man or woman from the coquette to the privy councillor ever moved or spoke before him but he could carry their voice, look, mien, and motion instantly into another company,” and he adds, “even to the manner of thinking of an eminent pleader of the bar with every, the least article and singularity of his utterance so perfectly imitated that he was the very alter ipse, scarcely to be distinguished from his original.”[17] Farquhar, the author of the comedy, schooled him for this particular part, his performance of which has been highly praised. “Witness” says Dowse, “his Sergeant Kite; he is not only excellent in it, but a superlative mimic.” “Mr. Estcourt,” says Chetwood, “the original Sergeant Kite, every night of performance entertained the audience with a variety of little catches and flights of humor that pleased all but his critics.”
This allusion to his critics refers to Cibber and some others who, whilst admitting his great powers as a mimic, declared that he was but an indifferent actor, an opinion in which others who were equally competent to judge did not concur, and which on Cibber’s part was attributed to his desire to play leading parts, to which he could not succeed during Estcourt’s life. Estcourt may by his imitations of their acting or peculiarities have offended actors and others, who, however much they might enjoy such a representation of others, may have looked very differently upon a like representation of themselves, a good illustration of which is found in an anecdote of Estcourt and Sir Godfrey Kneller, the celebrated portrait painter of that period.
Secretary Craggs, when a young man, in company with some of his friends, went with Estcourt to Sir Godfrey Kneller’s, and whispered to him that a gentleman present was able to give such a representation of many among his most principal patrons as would occasion the greatest surprise. Estcourt accordingly, at the artist’s earnest desire, mimicked Lords Somers, Halifax, Godolphin, and others so exactly that Kneller was delighted and laughed heartily at the imitation. Craggs gave a signal as previously concerted, and Estcourt immediately imitated Kneller himself, who cried out in a transport of ungovernable conviction, “Nay, there you are out, man. By G——, that’s not me!”