The Fisher Maidens Oh! Who’s going to take our oysters?—The handsome young gentleman!
(All stand at the edge of the hole. Slowly Don Juan’s hat flutters down from above)
Sganarelle My wages! My wages!
Trumpets and Drums
Adaptation of George Farquhar’s
The Recruiting Officer
Collaborators: B. Besson and E. Hauptmann
Translators: Rose and Martin Kastner
Characters
Captain William Plume William
Captain Brazen Mike, a potboy
Sergeant Kite Mrs. Cobb, a dead soldier’s
Mr. Balance, justice of the peace mother
Victoria, his daughter Bridewell, a constable
Mr. Worthy, a shoe manufacturer A Broad-Shouldered Man
Mr. Smuggler, a banker An Unemployed Man
Simpkins, butler to Mr. Balance The Unemployed Man’s
Melinda Moorhill Wife
Lady Prude A Miner
Rose, a country girl The Miner’s Wife
Lucy, Melinda’s maid A Pimp
Maggie Kitty, of Chicken Road
Sally A Pickpocket
Thomas Appletree A Court Attendant
Costar Pearmain A Drummer
Bullock, Rose’s brother A Servant
The action takes place in England during the American War of Independence.
Prologue
Spoken by Sergeant Kite, who steps in front of the curtain with his drummer.
I’m Sergeant Barras Kite, now gathering a company
To help our good King George. For across the sea
In His Majesty’s colony America
There’s rebellion such as no man ever saw.
If anyone here should crave to join the forces—
Veterans of previous wars, or heroes without horses
Wild about living out of doors
Or footloose, eager to see foreign shores
Apprentices whose masters are too mean
Sons of parents you have never seen
A working man, who leads a hungry life
A husband suffering from a nagging wife—
Come to the Raven, apply to Sergeant Barras Kite
An honest man who’ll set you right.
Now, gentlemen: Who among you, in exchange for a handsome
uniform and plenty of fodder
Will defend our dear old England (to the exclusion, of course, of his
sister, his brother, his father and his mother)?
1
Market place in Shrewsbury.
To one side Judge Balance’s house, on the other a recruiting booth. Sergeant Kite steps up to the farm boys Pearmain and Appletree who are looking at the pictures outside the recruiting booth.
Kite Gentlemen, I take it you know the Severn, but do you know the Mississippi? (He pulls a small field table from the recruiting booth and sets a soldier’s cap on it) Gentlemen, observe this cap. It’s a cap of honor; it makes a gentleman out of you as fast as you can pull a trigger. Anyone who has had the good fortune to be born six feet tall was born under Uranus and is destined to become a great man. (To Thomas Appletree) Allow me, sir; I just want to see how your head looks in this cap.
Appletree There’s a trick to this. Won’t that cap enlist me?
Kite No, no, the cap can’t do that, and neither can I. (Since Appletree refuses he turns to Pearmain) What about you? Come, let me see how it looks on you.
Pearmain It’s a very nice cap, but I suspect you’re up to something.
Kite Oh no, friend. Don’t be afraid now. (He manages to get the cap on Pearmain’s head)
Pearmain It stinks of sweat and powder.
Appletree What’s that on the front?
Kite The golden emblem, two fingers wide, over a G for King George. A badge of honor, brother.
Pearmain Brother?—Look ’ere, sergeant; no coaxing and wheedling. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. Take back your cap and your brothermanship, because I ain’t in the mood today. Let’s be going, Tummas.
(They go off laughing. Kite hangs the cap on the wall of the booth. Sounds of approaching horses. Captain Plume enters)
Kite Welcome to Shrewsbury, captain! From the banks of the Delaware to Severn side.
Plume (strolling about) Shrewsbury! (Sighs) How goes the recruiting? What reception has Shrewsbury given her military suitors this year?
(Kite makes a disparaging gesture)
Plume No luck?
Kite None to speak of, captain. I ask this rabble, as is my bounden duty: Doesn’t your English blood boil in your veins when those American dirt farmers and fur trappers refuse to pay taxes to our good King George?
Plume Well?
Kite Their answers weren’t nice. I’ve been here a full week and only recruited five.
Plume Five. (Pause) What sort?
Kite A poacher. The Strong Man of Kent—once famous as a boxer. A Scottish peddler. A disbarred lawyer and an unfrocked Welsh parson.
Plume A lawyer? Have you taken leave of your senses?
Kite Why?
Plume Mr. Kite, I will have no one in my company who can write. A fellow that can write can draw up petitions and submit complaints—let him go, I say! Discharge him at once!
Kite What about the parson? He plays the fiddle.
Plume He can probably write too. Well, keep him for his fiddle. Go on.
Kite Go on! That’s the lot!
Plume Damnation!
Kite There’s one more recruit, captain. One you didn’t expect.
Plume Who’s that?
Kite One you drummed in last time you were here. You remember Molly at the Raven?
Plume She’s not with child, I hope?
Kite Not any more, sir, she’s got it.
Plume Kite, it’s your duty to father the child.
Kite I’d rather not, sir. You know I’m married already.
Plume How many times?
Kite I haven’t got it by heart.—I’ve put them down here on the back of the muster roll. (Pulls out the muster roll) Miss Sheely Snickereyes, she sells fish in Dublin harbor; Peggy Guzzle, the brandy woman at the Horse Guards in Whitehall; Dolly Waggon, the carrier’s daughter in Hull; Mademoiselle Van Bottomflat at the Sly Kiss. Then there’s Jenny Oakum, the ship’s carpenter’s widow in Portsmouth, but I don’t usually count her, because she was married at the same time to two marine lieutenants and a man of war’s boatswain.
Plume Five. Make it half a dozen, Kite. Is it a boy or a girl?
Kite A boy.
Plume Put the mother down on your list and the boy on mine. Enter him as Francis Kite, grenadier on unlimited furlough. I’ll allow you a man’s full pay for his keep. But now go comfort the poor wench in the straw.
Kite (with a sigh) Yes, sir. Have you any further commands?
Plume Not for the present.
Kite There comes someone you must remember from last year. Mr. Worthy, the shoe manufacturer. (Goes out)
Plume For a fact, it looks like Worthy—or maybe Worthy’s ghost.
Worthy Plume! Back again safe and sound?
Plume Safe from the battlefields of the New World and sound, I hope, from London’s ale houses.
Worthy You’re a happy man, Plume.
Plume What’s wrong? Has your father risen from the dead and climbed back into the business?
Worthy No. No.
Plume Married?
Worthy No, no.
Plume Well then, who is it? Do I know her?
Worthy Melinda.
Plume Melinda Moorhill? But she began to capitulate a year ago, and, if I recall correctly, offered to surrender on honorable terms. I believe I advised you to propose an elopement to suit her romantic nature.
Worthy And so I did. She asked for time to consider. But then suddenly, and most unexpectedly, the fortress received fresh supplies and I was forced to turn the siege into a blockade.
Plume Details, if you please.
Worthy He
r aunt in Flintshire died, leaving her twenty thousand pounds.
Plume My dear Worthy, I see you haven’t mastered the rules of warfare. Your blockade was foolish. You should have redoubled your attacks, taken the fortress by storm, or died on the ramparts.
Worthy I did make one general assault, throwing in all my forces. But I was repulsed with such vigor that I had to abandon all hope of making her my mistress. For the past six months, I have been courting her with the utmost tenderness and devotion: my intention is marriage.
Plume And while you worship her like a goddess, she treats you like a dog. Is that it?
Worthy Exactly.
Plume My dear Worthy, if you want to give her a better opinion of you, you must bring her to a lower opinion of herself.
Worthy How?
Plume Let me think.—My first thought would be to sleep with her maid. Or I might hire three or four wenches in the neighborhood to spread the rumor that I’d got them all with child. Or, we could run verses in the gazette about every pretty woman in Shrewsbury, and leave her out. Or we could arrange a ball, neglecting to invite two or three of the town’s worst scarecrows, and overlooking Melinda as well.
Worthy Those would be telling blows, I admit. But Shrewsbury is such a dull Tory stronghold—balls or verses in the gazette are out of the question.
Plume And bastards as well? With all these recruiting officers in town? I thought it was our principle to leave as many recruits behind as we carry off.
Worthy My dear captain, no one questions your determination to serve your country with all you’ve got. Molly at the Raven can testify to that.
(Kite has re-entered)
Plume What now?
Kite You sent me to comfort that poor woman in the straw—Mrs. Molly, my wife, Mr. Worthy.
Worthy Splendid! I wish you joy, Mr. Kite!
Kite Well you may, sir, seeing as how I came by wife and child in half an hour. Captain, sir, someone else had been comforting her before I got there.
Plume In what respect?
Kite Early this morning, a butler in green livery brought her a basket of baby clothes.
Plume Who in the world could have done that?
Kite It was Simpkins, Miss Victoria’s butler.
Plume Victoria?
Worthy Victoria Balance? Impossible!
Plume Who is Victoria Balance?
Worthy Don’t you remember Miss Pritchett’s boarding school on Walnut Road?
Plume Ah, yes! The little sixteen-year-old!
Worthy Who almost fell out the window when you waved to her.
Plume Yes, she was very funny. She sent me a note at the Raven but there was no time. But why should she make Molly presents? A grown woman might do that, not a schoolgirl. And only one woman in a thousand, one who’s above jealousy, so to speak.
Worthy At that age a year makes all the difference. She’s almost grown-up.
Plume What a noble gesture! I should say she deserves to be remembered. Worthy, who serves the best wine? That’s the place to discuss our business.
Worthy Yes, that’s what I’ve come for. Where do you propose to buy boots for your grenadiers? From Worthy and Co., I trust?
Plume First I must find grenadiers for your boots, Worthy. I shall pay my respects to Mr. Balance at once. Kite, have the drummer proclaim my arrival. Starting tomorrow, I order you to stir up such a commotion that Shrewsbury will stand on its head and salute with its feet.
(Plume and Worthy depart to the Raven. Kite salutes)
2
At the home of Mr. Balance.
Mr. Balance is reading a school notebook. Drumming and shouts are heard from the street.
Drummer Latest news from the Raven! The hero of Bunker Hill has arrived from overseas! His Majesty’s Captain William G. Plume presents his greetings to the glorious city of Shrewsbury.
(Mr. Balance hides the notebook behind his back as his daughter Victoria enters)
Victoria Father, a Sergeant Kite was here. He says Captain Plume has arrived from London and wishes to pay you his respects.
Balance (sarcastically) To me?—Victoria—
Victoria Sir—
Balance What was in that basket you had Simpkins take to a certain Molly Fastspittle?
Victoria A few cakes, sir.
Balance Indeed! Baby clothes were in it.
Victoria How horrid of Simpkins.
Balance Of course you had no idea that Captain Plume was the father of Miss Fastspittle’s illegitimate child? (She is silent) What are Captain Plume’s illegitimate children to you, will you tell me that?
(A trumpet sounds)
Victoria Not children, there’s only one child.
Balance What is it to you?
Victoria Father, when lovers are separated by this war in the colonies …
Balance Lovers!—Victoria, how old were you when your mother died?
Victoria Four.
Balance Have I ever denied you anything? Haven’t I always treated you with indulgence and loving care?—Well. Your brother’s death has made you sole heir to my estate. That means an income of twelve hundred pounds for you. Get that captain out of your head!
Victoria Sir, Captain Plume has never been in my head … And he would never offend a man in your high position by…
Balance … seducing you? He would, though. I know the thoughts and feelings of young officers because I remember my own thoughts and feelings when I was a young officer. I’d have given my right arm to seduce the daughter of a worthy old squire on whom I was billeted …
Victoria I’m surprised at you, sir.
Balance I should hope so.
Victoria You may be justified in your opinion of English officers; but perhaps you have more confidence in English girls, father.
Balance None whatever! Any English girl with any spirit—your case, I hope—will let herself be seduced by an English officer. I suspect the two of you have …
Victoria Father, you’re beastly. (Icily, as Balance produces the notebook) Sir, have you been reading my diary?
Balance Not yet, but don’t oblige me to. Tell me the truth.
Victoria There’s nothing to tell, father. (As her father is about to open the notebook) Next to nothing. Last Whit Sunday Captain Plume was here for dinner. He didn’t even speak to me. Except to say: “Little girl, a blue ribbon would be even more becoming,” as he was passing me the pudding. That same evening I went back to school and I haven’t seen him since. (Balance again makes a motion to open the notebook) Except once. He came strolling by with Mr. Worthy as I was standing at the window with some friends, and he waved to me. There’s really nothing else. (Balance threatens again to open the diary) Only the note I sent him, wishing him a pleasant journey. It would have been rude not to.
Balance Very well. (Hands her the diary)
Victoria Only last Sunday you said the recruiting wouldn’t get off the ground until Plume arrived. You praised him to the skies.
Balance And I still think highly of him as a recruiter of soldiers, not of my daughter. In short: put Captain Plume out of your mind. Or any captain, for that matter. Sit down, Victoria. (Victoria sits down) Captains are paupers. You own forests. Captains are notorious for turning everything they can lay hands on into cash. They have an inborn aversion to anything green; they can’t bear to leave trees standing. Old Hambleton down in Cheshire showed me a patch of land two miles square that had been stripped bare of trees. A captain of the Wimbleford Dragoons had acquired it by marriage. Two weeks after the wedding, a builder appeared on the scene; and every oak and elm, even the hundred-year-old beeches, were turned into sills, portals and sashes, or auctioned off to provide the noble captain with money for one of those fancy houseboats that have come into fashion on the Thames. (He walks to the door and shouts at the top of his lungs) Simpkins. The coach-and-four! (To Victoria) Victoria, I speak to you not as a father, but as a friend. I would rather advise than command. Your Uncle Harry has invited me to a pheasant shoot. Be sensible;
go on ahead of me.
(Simpkins comes in)
Simpkins The coach will be ready in ten minutes, sir, and Captain Plume is here to pay his respects.
Balance Show him into the library. (Simpkins goes out) Pack your bag, Victoria.
Berliner Ensemble Adaptations Page 28
