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April 18, 1822
“My God,” said Arthur; “I foresee trouble.”
“Don’t worry,” said Geraint. “This is all familiar stuff to me. Theatre people go on like that all the time. It’s what’s called the creative ferment from which all great art emerges. At least that’s what it’s called when you are being nice about it. There’s more, I suppose?”
“Lots more,” said Pe
My dear Kemble:
When I had conquered my understandable chagrin—for I make it a principle never to speak or write in anger—I wrote again to our friend Hoffma
–this to be followed by a thigh-slapping song for Pigwiggen (Madame Vestris, did I say?) about the hunting of the boar (with some double entendre on ‘boar’ and ‘bore’) and the Huntsmen to sing the chorus again.
I want the fairy element to be very strong, and Pigwiggen’s power to be deft and quick, like Puck’s, in contrast to the heavier comic magic of Merlin. Perhaps a song here? Pigwiggen should appeal to both the ladies and the gentlemen in the audience—to the former as a charming boy, and to the latter as a charming girl in boy’s dress—a trick the Bard knew so well. I suggested to Herr H. that Pigwiggen’s song might be along these lines:
“That could get a very bad laugh in a modern opera,” said Darcourt. “I don’t mean to interrupt, Pe
“Just you wait, my boy,” said Pe
The love scenes between Lancelot and Guenevere provide the chief romantic interest in the opera, and I sketched out a duet for Hoffma
The moon is up, the stars shine bright
“I wonder if I might trouble you for a drop more whisky?” said Hollier to Arthur in an undertone.
“Indeed you may. Much more of this and I shall want a very big one myself,” said Arthur, and circulated the decanter. Darcourt and Powell seemed to need it, as well.
“I must say a word for Planché,” said Pe
And then I suppose he means to follow with a love scene in prose, Lancelot mooning under Gueneveres window.”
“Oh, not mooning, I hope,” said Powell. “First fairy knights, and then mooning ladies. You’ll have the show closed by the police.”
“No coarse jibes, if you please,” said Pe
“Pe
“Planché was certainly offering it seriously—and confidently. He knew his market. I assure you this is in the real early-nineteenth-century vein, and people loved just this sort of thing. It was the Regency, you know, or as near as makes no difference. They whistled and sang and barrel-organed and played Grand Paraphrases de Concert of stuff like this on their lovely varnished pianofortes,” said Pe
“What was Hoffma
“Oh, muck’s a bit strong, don’t you think?” said Pe
“It’s so God-damned jocose,” said Arthur.
“He seems to be patronizing the past, which I can’t bear,” said Maria. “He treats Arthur and his knights as if they had no dignity whatever.”
“Oh, very true. Very true,” said Pe
“She sounds very like Miss Bailey—unfortunate Miss Bailey,” said Arthur.
“What about the grand patriotic conclusion?” said Darcourt.
“Let’s see—where is it? Yes:
“That doesn’t even make sense,” said Hollier.
“It’s patriotism—doesn’t have to,” said Pe
“But is this what Hoffma
“No, he didn’t. There is a final letter which seems to put an end to the whole business. Listen:
My dear Kemble:
I wish I had better news for you from our friend Hoffma