Ruth Vincent (1874-1955)

"THE MEDAL AND THE MAID"
Musical comedy by Owen Hall.

1) Produced at the Lyric Theatre, London: Reviewed in The Daily Mail (London) - April 27th, 1903

"Another Florodora," was the verdict pronounced upon the new musical comedy, "The Medal and the Maid," produced at the Lyric Theatre on Saturday night before an audience which laughed itself hoarse with approval.

Gorgeously expensive dressing is a characteristic of productions at our theatres affecting the lighter form of entertainment. There has never been anything to eclipse the frocks and the frills and the furbelows - the ruddy crimsons, the apple-greens, and the russet-browns - of "The Medal and the Maid." But the art of the costumier has, for once at least, been expended upon worthy material. Not only is the company of exceptional strength and ability, but the character of the music is far above the average. It is difficult to blend the popular virtues of a "catchy" tune with a quality of composition that shall satisfy musical canons, but this is exactly what Mr. Sidney Jones has done. There is an entire absence of blatant and strident effect, yet feet were kept moving and heads wagging - a high tribute to a first hearing.

There is one reference in the text which should be omitted, and some of the "business" in the boot-black ballet should also be toned down. "The Medal and the Maid" has so many merits that it need not coquette with vulgarity. For the cleverness of the stage management and its ingenious surprises no praise can be too high. There is one astonishing Fregoli "trick change" on a wholesale scale, which must be seen to be believed. The whole of the chorus, in the twinkling of an eye, are transformed from maidens in walking costume to young ladies in brilliant evening dress. This was an inspiration indeed.

The plot deals with the adventures of two damsels - one a flower-girl of wayward and impetuous mood, and the other a beautiful heiress, anxious, as heroines have been time out of mind, to be loved for herself alone. The pair change places with the usual comic opera results, until the respective identities are fully established by the agency of a Balaclava medal bestowed in infancy upon the long-lost flower-girl by an indifferent father.

BRIGANDS AND SAILORS

With this story there is a mixture of brigands and fashionable ladies, and British sailors and other valuable adjuncts. The book is fairly humorous, but, as usual in Mr. Owen Hall's work, there are too many allusions to money and stockbroking. The Stock Exchange is a veritable King Charles's head with the author, but the public at large -particularly the ladies - care nothing for it.

Among the performers a very decided "hit" was made by Miss Ruth Vincent, whose grace and charm of execution made her position safe almost from the outset. The refinements of a Savoy training are apparent throughout the impersonation, and the comedy would be well worth a visit if only for the sake of an exquisite duet given by this lady in conjunction with Mr. Ranalow (a melodious singer) in the second act. Miss Sylvia Sablanc, a new-comer, was also highly successful, and a smart little lady, Miss Daisy Jerome, scored decisively with a song in which the eccentricities of the motor-car were reflected through the medium of the kodak. Miss Ada Blanche, as a second-hand clothes merchant posing as a society dame, played with the necessary breadth and with no objectionable touch, and Miss Ada Reeve, in a somewhat familiar class of part, was, as ever, lively and hard-working.

2) Produced at The Broadway Theatre, New York: Reviewed in The New York Times - 12th January, 1904

"The Medal and the Maid," which was produced last night at the Broadway, is an English, musical comedy, graceful and refined, after the manner of its kind. It has been Americanized in the part of James T. Powers, and it gave unmistakable signs of pleasing its audience in general, and delighting it in spots. The book is by Owen Hall, author of "Florodora" and "The Silver Slipper," and the music is by Sydney Jones, composer of "San Toy" and "The Geisha"; and it may fairly be pronounced not unworthy of its authors. It is said to have been vastly popular in England. One song certainly roused the house last night to a high pitch of enthusiasm - but more of that anon.

If there are those among us who have tired somewhat of musical comedy that assaults the eardrum and the midriff they will find the present play, with its syrupy music and its smooth wit as grateful and comforting as a cup of English chocolate. It is quite possible to relish it thoroughly from end to end without once offending against the Chesterfieldian precept that bars laughter.

Mr. Powers's face is as amazing as ever in its Sphinx-like gravity, and the batting of the eyelids, the flicker of smiles, in the corners of his mouth, which breaks the stony passivity into the grotesqueness of a gargoyle, is as deliciously irresistible. His dancing is the froth of levity and ease. It is not a great part he plays, not one that differs from a dozen of its predecessors, but it is a good Powers part, played in the best Powers vein, and that is about the best thing of its kind!

Miss Ruth Vincent, who created the leading part of Merva at the lyric in London, is the sole importation in the cast and was received with courteous enthusiasm. She is not a battery of wireless magnetism, resembling somewhat one's idea of the seventh daughter of a country curate whose looks and ambitions are far above her fate and who has therefore taken to the stage. Her voice is quite full enough, and of pure tone. She sings with both ease und taste, and dances gracefully. Her great charms are simplicity and innate refinement.

The first act discloses a pretty scene outside a girls' school at Cannes, with a glimpse of the Mediterranean in the distance. The schoolgirls and local flower girls made up the chorus. One of the best of Mr. Powers's songs is apropos of the giving of the school prizes - it Is a very modern school, and teaches a brand of worldly wisdom that lends itself to neatly satirical topics set to light, fantastic music. Then there is a pretty song, led by the schoolmistress (Jeanette Lowrey,) relating how the marks of conduct are registered in frills upon the petticoats of ten pupils. The most worldly, pupil displays ten frills. On the same basis of reckoning the first act as a whole would be awarded frills not to exceed half a dozen.

It is not till the second act that there is a real ten frill song. The scene is among the antique ruins of the Grecian island of Karagovina - a truly beautiful picture - and for some inscrutible reason Emma Carus leads on a chorus of young ladies in gray combination bloomers and hoods, who quaintly dance, sing, squat, jump, and roll over on the stage in imitation of chimpanzees. The faces in the gray hoods were so charming, and the monkeyshines so absurd that the house rose. On the recalls Miss Carus repeated the song, "Zanzibar" until the house whistled it to a man - or, at least, to a boy. But the real hit was made by the monkey chorus, and that is what the subsequent houses will go to see.

Cyril Scott played in his familiar manner the part of an English Lieutenant. Stanley H. Forde was massive and huge, with his big form and his big voice, as a leader of Greek brigands. His costume was the limit of splendor. Cecil Engelheart and Edna McClure were also prominently cast.