I shall be delighted to come on the seventh instead of the eighth. We
consider it an engagement. Over and above the pleasure of a quiet day
with you, I think I can greatly facilitate the preparations (that's the
way, you see, in which we cheat ourselves into making duties of
pleasures) by being at Rockingham a day earlier. So that's settled.
I was quite certain when that Child of Israel mentioned those
dimensions, that he must be wrong. For which wooden-headedness the Child
shall be taken to task on Monday morning, when I am going to look at his
preparations, by appointment, about the door. Don't you observe, that
the scenery not being made expressly for the room, it may be impossible
to use it as you propose? There is a scene before that wall, and unless
the door in the scene (supposing there to be one, which I am not sure
of) should come exactly into the place of the door of the room, the door
of the room might as well be in Africa. If it could be used it would
still require to be backed (excuse professional technicality) by another
scene in the passage. And if it be rather in the side of the bottom of
the room (as I seem to remember it), it would be shut out of sight, or
partially, by the side scenes. Do you comprehend these stage managerial
sagacities? That piece of additional room in so small a stage would be
of immense service, if we could avail ourselves of it. If we can't, I
have another means (I think) of discovering Leech, Saville, and
Coldstream at table. I am constantly turning over in my mind the
capacities of the place, and hope by one means or other to make
something more than the best of it. As to the fireplace, you will never
be able to use that. The heat of the lamp will be very great, and
ventilation will be the thing wanted. Thirteen feet and a half of depth,
diminished by stage fittings and furniture, is a small space. I think
the doorway could be used in the last scene, with the castle steps and
platform for the staircase running straight through it toward the hall.
_Nous verrons._ I will write again about my visit of inspection,
probably on Monday.
Will you let them know that Messrs. Nathan, of Titchborne Street,
Haymarket, will dress them, please, and that I will engage for their
doing it thoroughly well; also that Mr. Wilson, theatrical hairdresser,
Strand, near St. Clement's Churchyard, will come down with wigs, etc.,
to "make up" everybody; that he has a list of the pieces from me, and
that he will be glad to measure the heads and consult the tastes of all
concerned, if they will give him the opportunity beforehand? I should
like to see Sir Adonis Leech and the Hon. T. Saville if I can. For they
ought to be wonderfully made up, and to be as unlike themselves as
possible, and to contrast well with each other and with me. I rather
grudge _caro sposo_ coming into the company. I should like him so much
to see the play. If we do it all well together it ought to be so very
pleasant. I never saw a great mass of people so charmed with a little
story as when we acted it at the Glasgow Theatre. But I have no other
reason for faltering when I take him to my arms. I feel that he is the
man for the part.[10] I see him with a blue bag, a flaxen wig, and green
spectacles. I know what it will be. I foresee how all that sessional
experience will come out. I reconcile myself to it, in spite of the
selfish consideration of wanting him elsewhere; and while I have a heavy
sense of a light being snuffed out in the audience, perceive a new
luminary shining on the stage!
Your brother[11] would make a capital tiger, too! Very short tight
surtout, doeskins, bright top-boots, white cravat, bouquet in
button-hole, close wig--very good, ve--ry good. It clearly must be so.
The thing is done. I told you we were opening a tremendous
correspondence when we first began to write on such a long subject. But
do let me tell you, once and for all, that I am in the business heart
and soul, and that you cannot trouble me respecting it, and that I
wouldn't willingly or knowingly leave the minutest detail unprovided
for. It cannot possibly be a success if the smallest peppercorn of
arrangement be omitted. And a success it must be! I couldn't go into
such a thing, or help to bring you poorly out of it, for any earthly
consideration. Talking of forgetting, isn't it odd? I doubt if I could
forget words I had learned, so long as I wanted them. But the moment the
necessity goes, they go. I know my place and everybody's place in this
identical piece of "Used Up" perfectly, and could put every little
object on its own square inches of room exactly where it ought to be.
But I have no more recollection of my words now (I took the book up
yesterday) than if I had only seen the play as one of the audience at a
theatre. Perhaps not so much. With cordial remembrances,
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson,
Faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]