Part 2 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: F. S. CHANFRAU AS MOSE.]
The original of all these local dramas was _New York in 1848_, or, as it was called during its long run of twelve weeks at the Olympic in that year, _A Glance at New York_. It was a play of shreds and patches, hurriedly and carelessly st.i.tched together by Mr. Baker, the prompter of Mitch.e.l.l's famous little theatre, in order to cover the nakedness of the programme on the night of his own annual benefit. It had no literary merit, and no pretensions thereto; and it would never have attracted public attention but for the wonderful ”B'hoy” of the period, played by F.
S. Chanfrau--one of those accidental but complete successes upon the stage which are never antic.i.p.ated, and which cannot always be explained.
He wore the ”soap locks” of the period, the ”plug hat,” with a narrow black band, the red s.h.i.+rt, the trousers turned up--without which the genus was never seen--and he had a peculiarly sardonic curve of the lip, expressive of more impudence, self-satisfaction, suppressed profanity, and ”general cussedness” than Delsarte ever dared to put into any single facial gesture. Mr. Chanfrau's Mose hit the popular fancy at once, and retained it until the Volunteer Fire Department was disbanded; and _A Glance at New York_ was fol-lowed by _Mose in California_, _Mose in a Muss_, and even _Mose in China_. Mr. Matthews, in an article contributed to one of the magazines a few years ago, records the fact that during one season Mr. Chanfrau played Mose at two New York theatres and in one theatre in Newark on the same night.
_The Mulligan Guards_, _The Skidmores_, and their followers were the legitimate descendants of _Mose_, and they came in with the steam-engines and the salaried firemen, who took away the occupation and the opportunities of Sykesy and Jake. Harrigan and Hart began their theatrical management at the Theatre Comique, opposite the St. Nicholas Hotel, in 1876, and introduced what may be called the Irish-German-Negro-American play, ill.u.s.trating phases of tenement-house life in New York, and amusing everybody who ever saw them, from the Babies on our Block to Muldoon himself, the Solid Man. Mr. Harrigan wrote his own plays; both he and Mr.
Hart were inimitable in their peculiar line as actors, and they were wise and fortunate in their selection of their company, which included Mrs.
Annie Yeamans, ”Johnny” Wild, and other equally talented artists, for whom ”Dave” Braham, the leader of the orchestra, wrote original and catching music, which was sung and whistled and ground out from one end of the country to the other. Mr. Harrigan is a close observer and a born manager, and his productions have been masterpieces in their way. He puts living men and women upon the stage. He has done for a certain phase of city life what Denman Thompson has done for life upon a farm; and he is more to be envied than Mr. Thompson, because no cla.s.s of theatre-goers enjoy his productions more than do the living men and women whom his company, with real art, represent. But, alas! his plays are not the _great_ American plays for which the American dramatic critic is pining; although, like _The Old Homestead_, and _Shenandoah_, and _Horizon_, and _Metamora_, and _Fas.h.i.+on_ they approach greatness, if only in the fact that they have introduced, and preserved, a series of purely American types which are as great in their way as are the dramatic characters of other lands, and greater and more enduring than many of the Americans to be found in other branches of American literature.
SCENE VI.
THE SOCIETY DRAMA.
”Full of most excellent differences, of very soft society, and great showing.”--_Hamlet_, Act v. Sc. 2.
A few extracts from the prologue which Mr. Epes Sargent wrote for Mrs.
Mowatt's _Fas.h.i.+on_, in 1845, will give a comparatively correct picture of the feeling which existed between native playwrights and the dramatic critics of this country towards the end of the first half of the present century, and will show how strong was the prejudice then existing against dramatic works of home manufacture. The comedy was purely original; its writer was an American, and a woman; its scenes were laid in the city of New York; and _Fas.h.i.+on_ was emphatically an American play.
At the rising of the curtain on the opening night Mr. Crisp was discovered reading a newspaper; and he spoke as follows, the italics being Mr.
Sargent's own:
”_Fas.h.i.+on_, a Comedy! I'll go--but stay-- Now I read farther, 'tis a _native_ play!
Bah! home-made calicoes are well enough, But home-made dramas _must_ be stupid stuff.
Had it the _London_ stamp 'twould do; but then For plays we lack the manners and the men!
Thus speaks _one_ critic--hear _another's_ creed: _Fas.h.i.+on!_ What's here? [_Reads._] It never can succeed!
What! from a _woman's_ pen? It takes a _man_ To write a comedy--no woman can!
But, sir--but, gentlemen--you, sir, who think No comedy can flow from _native_ ink-- Are we such _perfect_ monsters, or such _dull_, That wit no traits for ridicule can cull?
Have we no follies here to be redressed?
No vices gibbeted? No crimes confessed?
Friends, from these scoffers we appeal to you!
Condemn the _false_, but, oh, applaud the _true_!
Grant that _some_ wit may grow on native soil, And Art's fair fabric rise from _woman's_ toil!
While we exhibit but to _reprehend_ The social vices, 'tis for _you_ to mend!”
The audience was long and loud in its applause of the prologue, but the play was so well written, so well represented, and so deserving of success that Mrs. Mowatt and Mr. Sargent might have spared themselves their appeal to the sympathy of the general public. The critics, as a rule, were well disposed, although Edgar Allan Poe, one of the sternest of them, said that _Fas.h.i.+on_ resembled _The School for Scandal_, to which some of its admirers had likened it, as the sh.e.l.l resembles the living locust; a stricture which was hardly just. _Fas.h.i.+on_ created an excitement in the theatrical world that had not been known for years before, and has hardly been equalled since. It was said, and with some truth, to have revived the drama in this country, and to have reawakened a declining taste for dramatic representations of the higher and purer kind. It was almost the first attempt made to exhibit on our stage a correct picture of American society and manners, and although it was a satire on a certain _parvenu_ cla.s.s, conspicuous then as now in the metropolis, and always likely to exist here, it was a kindly, good-natured satire that did not intend to wound even when it was most pointed. Several familiar New York types were faithfully and cleverly represented: the millionaire merchant, vulgar, self-made, proud of his maker; and his wife, uneducated, pretentious, devoted to dress and display, seeking to marry her daughter to the adventurous foreigner who is not yet obsolete in the ”upper circles” of metropolitan society. There were besides these, in the underplot, a rich old Cattaraugus farmer, his granddaughter (a dependant in the merchant's family), a prying old maid, a black servant, a poet, and a fas.h.i.+onable selfish man of the world. All of these were well drawn and natural. The situations were probable, and had existed and do exist in real life, while the language was bright and pure. The dramatic critic of the _Albion_, then a leading and influential journal, p.r.o.nounced _Fas.h.i.+on_ to be ”the best American comedy in existence, and one that sufficiently indicated Mrs. Mowatt's ability to write a play that would rank among the first of the age.” Mrs. Mowatt, however, was the author of but one other successful drama, _Armand, the Child of the People_. It was first played at the Park Theatre on September 27, 1847; while _Fas.h.i.+on_ itself has not been put upon the stage here in many years, and is almost forgotten, although its influence is still felt. Its popularity endured longer, perhaps, than that of any of its contemporaries; it was played throughout the United States, and was well received by London and English provincial audiences. The oblivion into which it has fallen now should by no means be ascribed to its want of merit, the fas.h.i.+on of the time having changed.
[Ill.u.s.tration: EPES SARGENT.]
The comedy was produced at the Park Theatre on the 24th of March, 1845.
The _Herald_ of the next day said it had one of the best houses ever seen in New York; boxes, pit, and gallery were crowded; all of the _literati_ of the city were present, with a tolerable sprinkling of the _elite_--the _Herald's_ distinction between the _elite_ and _literati_ might have suggested another satirical play--and the comedy was enthusiastically received. Its initial cast was a very strong one and worthy of preservation. William Chippendale played Adam Trueman, the farmer; William H. Crisp, the elder, was Count Jolimaitre, the fraudulent n.o.bleman; John Dyott was Colonel Howard, of the United States Army, in love with Gertrude; Thomas Barry was Tiffany, the wealthy merchant; T. B. De Walden, author of _Sam_, _The Baroness_, and other plays, was T. Tennyson Twinkle, a modern poet; John Fisher played Sn.o.bson, the confidential clerk, and Mr.
Skerrett Zeke, a colored servant. None of these gentlemen are known to our stage to-day, but without exception they were as great in the various lines in which they were cast as could then be found in America. In the ladies of its first representations _Fas.h.i.+on_ was equally fortunate, and Mrs. Mowatt herself, in her _Autobiography_, writes that she felt much of the great success of the play to be justly due to the cleverness of the players. Mrs. Barry--the first Mrs. Barry, who died in 1854--represented the would-be lady of fas.h.i.+on; Miss Kate Horn (Mrs. Buckland), Seraphina Tiffany, her daughter; Miss Clara Ellis, a young Englishwoman, who remained but a few years in this country, was the Gertrude; Mrs. Dyott was Millinette, the French maid; and Mrs. Edward Knight (Mary Ann Povey) played Prudence, the maiden lady of a certain age. The part of Adam Trueman, the blunt, old-fas.h.i.+oned, warm-hearted farmer, with his unfas.h.i.+onable energy and st.u.r.dy common-sense, pointing homely morals and bursting social bubbles--”Seventy-two last August, man! Strong as a hickory, and every whit as sound”--was for many years a favorite with the representatives of ”character old men” on our stage. Mr. Blake, the original Adam in Philadelphia, was particularly happy in the _role_, playing it many times in New York; and E. L. Davenport made a decided hit as Adam at the Olympic in London, in January, 1850, when the comedy was first produced in England. Mr. Davenport on this occasion had the support of his wife, who played Gertrude, and who was then still billed as Miss f.a.n.n.y Vining.