Shamus O’Brien

“One of [the] songs is calculated in an especial manner to comfort the Fenians, since it depicts what most they long for—‘The Green above the Red.’. . . The overture to the drama, and the incidental music, were arranged by the late John P. Cooke, whose death, in November last, deprived theatrical society of one of its most useful and genial and estimable members.”

Music not mentioned.

“. . . Mr. Bryant is by no means a great delineator, neither is he a pleasing singer. He has a certain kind of personal magnetism that wins the regard and interest of his audience, and a quiet quaintness of humor which characterizes the humbler Irish peasant, and is one of this actor’s most vital elements of popularity.  People make the mistake of supposing Mr. Bryant to be a singer because he heads a minstrel band.  His forte has always been in the jollities of the ‘end business,’ rather than the melodies of the first part of the programme.  If he should sing less the performances would close earlier, which would be commendable. . . . The incidental music is fair—there’s too much of it. The situations are sensational, the plot ingenious, the acting excellent, and the interest unflagging.”

Gives complete cast. Notes that “this will be the first appearance of Mr. Bryant in a part of his own creating” and that “there is much curiosity manifested to see him in his quartet of characters.”

[Long review, which begins with plot summary]“We spoke of this piece the other day as a good melodrama, and such, certainly, it is. It makes one think, indeed, of all the other contemporary Irish dramas; and especially it revives recollections of ‘Arrah-na-Pogue.’ The accessories of Shaman’s song, for instance, are strikingly like those of [illeg.] ‘Wearing of the Green.’. . . Mr. Dan Bryant plays Shamus with captivating earnestness, evincing minute knowledge of Irish character and toning the picture with delicate tints of humor and pathos.”

Bryant’s O’Brien is called upon “to outwit the enemies of his country, to thrash an indefinite number of personal defamers, to sustain a series of disguises under difficult circumstances, to love and eventually marry a pretty Irish maiden, to dance like a first-class Mississippi deck-hand, and sing a number of songs. In all but the last he is eminently successful. From first to last, with the occasional exception of a little hifalutin patriotism, he has good things to say, good points to make, good situations to strike, good business to do. The singing is simply painful. . . . As a whole, the drama is a success. Its appointments are excellent; its incidental effects startling and full of fire; the ‘ruction dance’ in the second act is notably jolly and suggestive of 444 Broadway; and the liberal indorsement [sic] given by the public is fully warranted.”

“We sat out the play the other night, and hard work it was too, for, with the exception of [Dan Bryant, Rosa Cook, and Hagan] the performances were not worthy of extended comment. . . . The ‘ruction jig’ is a sort of hybrid affair in the dancing line, part from Virginia and part from Tipperary, the darkey portion predominating.”