The Thaumaturgy Department

Rostand's Romanticism

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 00:08:00 -0500

Edmond Rostand, the author of Cyrano De Bergerac (1897, the first play to translate the historical Cyrano’s life into the stuff of theatrical history), is often credited with reviving Romanticism on the late 19th-century French stage. But he was far from alone. For a greater sense of what exactly Rostand was reviving, we need to talk about the legacy of Romanticism on the French stage.

France, traditionally the most artistically rigid of European countries, didn’t adopt Romanticism until the early 19th Century, when Victor Hugo’s Hernani caused theater riots in 1830, and sparked the first serious wave of artistic introspection in the Académie Française since the controversy over Pierre Corneille’s Le Cid in 1636, during the real Cyrano’s lifetime. Over the interceding 200 years, the Académie had strictly regulated and censored the content of all dramas appearing on French stages, in accordance with aristocratic and “Aristotelian” dramaturgical rules of conduct: no plays could set their action for longer than the span of 24 hours, no subplots were allowed, and absolutely no violence or supernatural effects were to interfere with the unfolding of the plot.

The Romantics, inspired by their heroes in Shakespeare and the Spanish Golden Age Dramatists such as Calderón and Lope de Vega, lauded the infinity of the artistic (and hence theatrical) imagination. Gone were most of the French rules of stage decorum, and in their place such cardinal sins as unseemly spectacle (copious swordfights, ghosts, and thunderbolts of lightning), as well as unmodulated bursts of feeling rather than carefully composed couplets. (Victor Hugo’s controversial play caused a stir in part because he left a line of poetic meter incomplete by a syllable, an act of artistic blasphemy parallel to Stravinsky’s violation of western musical harmonies in Sacre du Printemps, another theater event in Paris that caused riots.)

Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac, an enormous popular success, may seem like a prime candidate for the so-called Romantic Revival of the late 19th Century. But the play — with its love triangles and intrigues, flamboyant moments of spectacle, and sudden turns from enthusiastic comedy to impassioned pathos — owes a great deal to another genre born in the 1800s: Melodrama. Indeed, the theater where Cyrano premiered — the Théatre de la Porte Sainte-Martin, which had presented some of the finest works of 1st-wave French Romanticism by Hugo and Alexandre Dumas — had become a so-called “boulevard” theater over the last 70 years, and frequently presented melodramas until Rostand’s play returned it to leading stature in Parisian theater.

Rostand’s play, rather than revivifying a specific legacy of French Romanticism, actually looks back to a golden, neoclassical age in French culture, the Louis XIII-era France of Cyrano’s life and times. And, in its evident commedia dell’ arte influences (that nose looks suspiciously like the grotesque mask of a stock character’s mask), its rhyming couplets composed in perfect neoclassical diction, and its evident romantic and melodramatic influences, Rostand’s play synthesizes the best of the past 200 years of French drama for a popular audience.

"With Rostand the center of gravity is in the expression of the emotion, not as with Maeterlinck in..."

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 23:14:00 -0500

“With Rostand the center of gravity is in the expression of the emotion, not as with Maeterlinck in the emotion which cannot be expressed.”

- T.S. Eliot, Selected Essays (1932)

It’s interesting to compare Rostand’s idea of Romanticism to that of his French avant-garde contemporaries in Maeterlinck and the Symbolists, who also saw themselves as carrying the Romantic torch in the late 1890s. Rostand’s plays are crowd-pleasers, their action hurtles forward from one picturesque scene to another, each crowded with some kind of sensational incident, whereas Symbolist drama is much hardier fare, content to focus on a static-unchanging milieu and a near-total absence of external action. In Symbolism, the sensations are all turned inward, and the experience is more akin to that of a seance or religious trance than a rambunctious, Rostand-ian swordfight. Though both Rostand and Maeterlinck were influenced by Shakespeare, they took this foundational influence in exactly opposite directions, one toward the footlights of the popular theater, and another for the darkened corridors of the closet coterie. One is now taught in schools, and one can be found on stages to this day. Guess which is which?

In honor of Santaland Diaries, the first reading of which is to...

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 12:31:00 -0500

In honor of Santaland Diaries, the first reading of which is to begin in, oh, about an hour. Learn how to best release your inner elf.

Tidbit for you (that has existed in a “pending-posting” state for, oh, a while). In...

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 00:39:00 -0500

Tidbit for you (that has existed in a “pending-posting” state for, oh, a while).

In Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac, Roxane’s duenna indicates that Roxane will be able to meet Cyrano after attending church at Saint-Roch. In Roets’ adapatation, Duenna suggests that Roxane will be attending mass at Saint-Germain.

Oh-ho?

Turns out that Saint-Roch didn’t so much exist in 1640, the year of the first four acts of Cyrano (and, you know, Cyrano de Bergerac). Construction didn’t begin until 1653, and wasn’t finished until the 1700s. Saint-Germain, on the other hand…. There are actually a couple of churches in Paris holding the name: Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois and Saint-Germain de Pres. Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois seems our likely candidate, and was well-established by the time 1640 rolled around. In fact, Saint-Germaine l’Auxerrois was fairly favored by the royals.

What’s more, it’s located near the supposed location of Ragueneau’s pastry shop, allowing a logical path for Roxane to take in stopping off to meet Cyrano and discuss her recent crush.

The church in Cyrano did exist. The church in Cyrano de Bergerac…. We-ell, not so much in reality, but we’re dealing with a work of fiction, here, and Rostand had a bit of a field day embellishing on reality. It’s all in the imaginative spirit, gives us more freedom in considering the world of the play (one the rules start to bend and shift, lud knows where one might go), and a reference to, say, a church that didn’t yet exist, isn’t likely to destroy the experience of a production.

Still. Fun to stumble over these things.

-Kristi

"Pleonasms are the opposites (antonyms) of oxymora. A pleonasm consists of two concepts (usually two..."

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 09:02:11 -0500

“Pleonasms are the opposites (antonyms) of oxymora. A pleonasm consists of two concepts (usually two words) that are redundant. What does “redundant” mean? Well, how about “more than enough; overabundant; excess; and superfluous”? Still having a problem understanding what pleonasm means? Some pleonastic expressions are also known as tautologies. Tautology means, “needless repetition of an idea in a different word, phrase, or sentence; redundancy; pleonasm.” What about pleonasm? It means, “the use of more words than are necessary for the expression of an idea; redundancy.” So it is that we go around in circles: pleonasm means tautology, which means redundancy, which means pleonasm, which means tautology—ad infinitum.”

- http://www.wordexplorations.com/pleonasm.html

"There’s another side to Santa that can be frightening: the idea that Santa is all-powerful,..."

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 08:52:40 -0500

“There’s another side to Santa that can be frightening: the idea that Santa is all-powerful, that he can see inside us, that he knows what we are thinking.”

- Mr. Rogers, interview for Ladies’ Home Journal, 1999

"A Place at the Table" by James Magruder

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 08:40:30 -0500

A Place at the Table

How To Become a Theater Company’s Practical Dreamer

By James Magruder

The essay excerpted here was written in 1998 as an informal position paper to entice the Mellon Foundation into supporting dramaturgy at CENTERSTAGE. The strategy worked; in the fall of 1999, the Foundation awarded the theater an unprecedented matching grant for dramaturgical activity. Matched by individual donations and other funds, the CENTERSTAGE dramaturgy endowment was established at $2 million.

Any dramaturg spends a significant portion of his or her time on the job responding to the question “What is a dramaturg?” Throughout my nine years in the business, I have explained and explained again—and again—to friends, actors, sixth graders, dates, dentists, donors and my uncomprehending family, that dramaturgy is a function more than a job description. To keep my answer fresh, I try to think up new images for myself every season. Sometimes they’re lofty: The Keeper of the Flame of Thespis. The Conscience of the Theater. The Bridge Between Page and Stage. Others are more pedestrian: The Artistic Enabler. The Resident Egghead and Cultural Flypaper. Always I try not to be defined by how others have historically viewed me: The Guy with the Library Card. The Useless Appendix of the American Theater. Last-hired, First-fired. The Cheese Stands Alone.

We are a misunderstood lot, but not tragically so. Our (relative) enfranchisement as theater professionals in America is recent; and if our progress as the closet idealists who attempt to forward the art form by our thoughts and deeds has not been exactly swift, it’s not surprising. We live in a young country whose biases are anti-intellectual, ahistorical, anti-art and utilitarian, and we work in a not-for-profit arts culture that is increasingly obsessed with the bottom line. Dramaturgy in America got started in the mid-’70s when regional theaters realized they needed “literary managers” to process all the new scripts for all the new-play programs generated by funding initiatives. Eventually, the more artistically minded theaters realized it wasn’t a bad idea to have a smart person on staff to help select repertory, do research and educate the public as to the mission of the institution and the aims of individual productions. As the money flowed through the go-go ’80s, even the theaters that didn’t know how to deploy dramaturgs hired them.

When I entered the dramaturgy program at the Yale School of Drama in 1985, I barely knew what a dramaturg was. I was just thrilled to have discovered a profession within the theater that could make use of my writing skills, my critical eye and my brain without my having to be a director. I spent three years there explaining why I was not a threat to suspicious playwrights and insecure directors. My image for dramaturgy then was Chief Chair-Scootcher. At the first day of rehearsal, at the big table in the middle of the room, there were chairs for the director, the designers, the playwright, the actors and the stage manager. The dramaturg had to scootch his chair forward from the corner, making embarrassing noises and apologizing for being a bother as he hoped someone at the big table would make room for him to squeeze in. It was not a happy time. I was ready to leave the profession before I even started.

[· · ·]

I came to Center Stage—a theater with a long and abiding respect for the input of several eggheads—in 1991, during the season in which Irene Lewis began her tenure as artistic director. I expect that our collaboration will be the most fruitful of my dramaturgical life. Working against adverse circumstances for the arts, we have continued the mission of presenting challenging repertory, classics and new plays that lead, rather than follow, audience expectations, with the finest theater artists we can lure to Baltimore.

I read new plays; I cut Shakespeare; I agitate for Aeschylus and Marlowe in season planning; I take notes during run-throughs and previews, following the dramaturgical injunction to Make-It-Better; and I still get thrills in the rehearsal room and in the theater when one of those indelible, alchemical, truly theatrical moments happens. There are, however, things I have done here that no grad school could prepare me for. Writing an NEA grant proposal for Brendan Behan’s The Hostage in three days. Speaking to the Rotary Club in Little Italy about the fate of theater in the next millennium. Drafting an initial case study for an endowment campaign. Calling subscribers on the phone to ask them for money for the annual fund. Participating in new-trustee orientation every fall, filling the freshmen in on critical concepts like “actor workweeks” and “artistically driven.” Crafting copy for a television ad campaign. Whatever I do, whatever the season, the play, the audience, I am always making the case that theater matters.

My latest image for the dramaturg is Practical Dreamer. Other theaters use terms like collaboration, diversity, artistic excellence, fiscal responsibility, new voices, educational outreach and a living wage. In my time here I have watched, and helped, Irene and managing director Peter Culman and board president Nancy Roche strive mightily to live by these terms. Center Stage doesn’t need to have its dramaturgs be its conscience and its closet idealists. Center Stage itself is crawling with idealists of every stripe. Center Stage is also savvy enough to know how to perpetuate itself, how to preserve the continuation of its core values even as it prepares for inevitable transitions, whether they be internal changes in leadership or external changes in the business cycle. There is a very large place at the table for dramaturgs at Center Stage. Let it ever be so.

Reprinted from the TCG website at http://www.tcg.org/publications/at/2001/mellon.cfm

EARNEST, the microsite

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 09:32:00 -0500

EARNEST, the microsite:

With The Importance of Being Earnest finally having reached its natural conclusion, now as defunct as Algernon’s poor exploded friend Bunbury, everything is packed up and packed off. But, various program pieces and other extended background materials endure at the cleverly devised microsite, handily available by following this link. Kudos to our intrepid graphics team of Jason, Tamika, and Bill for all they did to get this up and looking good, and to Heather for keeping it all straight. Check out all sorts of odd details and connections you probably never thought you’d need to make.

What goes up…must come down. Sadly, the same holds true...

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 19:07:34 -0500

Abandoned furniture, the sad remains

Hacking and hewing

Look on my works, ye mighty...

BZZZZZZZ

What goes up…must come down. Sadly, the same holds true for the set for Earnest, including the wonderful letters; so, today, the theater lobby was strewn with the remnants of Jack and Algy’s decor, while on stage the tech crew took the saws to the 10-foot letters. Such is the ephemeral nature of theater. Soon, the space will transform into the mutable world of Phileas Fogg & Passepartout and their daring venture around the globe.

Behind the Scenes (and inside the bytes) for "Around the World in 80 Days"

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 18:51:00 -0500

Behind the Scenes (and inside the bytes) for "Around the World in 80 Days":

Sigh. First it was Disney’s balloon (“not in the book” as they declaim in Eason’s deliciously self-aware and faithful adaptation); then it was the CGI-driven departure from Verne’s original chronicled in this interesting, fairly technical blog post. Variations on this liberty-seizing pattern (most of them wanting to get the story airborne) are by now a well-entrenched part of the tradition of this poor book, which nevertheless endures. When the program material for our production goes online, read Drew’s ruminations on the subject in his extended profile of the many sides of Verne himself; from the very first, his writing, and 80 Days in particular, have proven prone to each new generation inscribing its own “take.” -ghw

Richelieu's rule remains?

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 21:48:00 -0500

Reading along, working at pinning down this Arras business, when I happened upon the following:

“Richelieu was disgraced in 1643, and he had to yield place as chief minister to Cardinal Mazarin…”

Yeah, all right. If by ‘was disgraced,’ you mean ‘was dead.’

Yes, Mazarin was up after Richelieu. Yes, Richelieu had his times of disgrace. Louis XIII wasn’t exactly thrilled to take him on in the first place (or so seems to be the case), and Richelieu had been out of favor during Louis’ early years.

Right, okay, mistakes happen. Lord knows I’m aware of the fact (And, hey-o, a sad offender). This begs a few questions, though… Was Richelieu so damned set on keeping control of France that he simply couldn’t let go? Was there some sort of ‘even DEATH shall not part us’ drama between Richelieu and France? Did Richelieu become a zombie or otherwise undead being, manipulating France behind the scenes, even as his flesh rotted (leaving some sort of, I don’t know, talking-Richelieu-skeleton)?

And, perhaps most disturbing of all: Does undead!Richelieu rule France to this very day?

Hey, maybe THAT’S why Fogg doesn’t go to Paris… I guess Verne knew what was up. He was uncommonly savvy all around, wasn’t he?

-Kristi

Phileas Fogg (Philip R. Smith) awakens and emerges in the...

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 08:16:52 -0500

Phileas Fogg (Philip R. Smith) awakens and emerges in the original Lookingglass production of Around the World in 80 Days…. Just so, he and the rest of the lively characters so vividly brought to life in Laura Eason’s deft, timely adaptation are starting to stir and find new life upstairs in rehearsal. Part import and part new creation, the production had its first rehearsal earlier this week and already is going great guns, full steam ahead, in a race against time to get everything squared away and humming along in time for previews.

(Those who know the story know that Fogg’s hapless first valet here doesn’t stand much chance; his employment is about to come to an end when he brings Fogg tea a few degrees too cool. However, this does open the door, metaphorically speaking, for Passepartout to get hired.)

Roxane! [or, if you prefer, Roxanne] Inspired by Kristi’s...

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 08:01:00 -0500

Roxane! [or, if you prefer, Roxanne]

Inspired by Kristi’s ineffably free-associative set of references and links around Wilde, Verne, Murakami, and more, here is my offering: in honor of the upcoming Cyrano (or rather, more directly, of his eternal beloved, Roxane). However, it’s also taken from Moulin Rouge, which is set in Paris, not only the site of Rostand’s romance but also (despite those dire and dreadful warnings posted elsewhere here on Thaumaturgy) the natural haunts of Monsieur Jules Verne—author of Around the World in 80 Days, currently rehearsing. So there.

Now enjoy, and feel free to dance along. We won’t tell.

-ghw

Cyrano De Bergerac a wee bit of soundtrack

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 07:51:46 -0500

Cyrano De Bergerac a wee bit of soundtrack:

Buckle your swash and climb aboard!

Rather upset with myself for having thus far failed to post...

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 23:30:00 -0500

Rather upset with myself for having thus far failed to post this…

Snerched from this website, which does include an illustration of Wilde.

Oh, hey, and check this out… When I glanced at the site just now (checking the link, and all), what should come up but a picture of Haruki Murakami. HEY NOW.

And how does that relate? Murakami penned after the quake, the set of stories on which Frank Galati’s adaptation was based. And this adaptation? It’s going to be presented as one of CENTERSTAGE’s spring Concert Readings.

Whilst we’re poking around the aforementioned sight, check out the Jules Verne images, as well. He does get on ever so well with those jellyfish…

-Kristi

Oscar Wilde (well, Robert Ross) and facebook? Check out the full...

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 17:09:10 -0400

Oscar Wilde (well, Robert Ross) and facebook? Check out the full affair, and much appreciation to graphics for the design.

Queensbury, man… He really can be a bit of an ass.

Whistler, too.

Halloween costume suggestions… A) Oscar Wilde: Okay, so it’s a terribly obvious one,...

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 02:46:54 -0400

Halloween costume suggestions…

A) Oscar Wilde: Okay, so it’s a terribly obvious one, but just THINK of the options. Would you like to don the floppy hat and swish about in a cape? Curl your hair and casually smoke among scandalized ladies? I personally vote for going with the bowl cut, but I suppose that just might not happen…

B) Lady Bracknell, Wagner-style: You know… I’ll leave the details of this one up to you. Suffice to say that it’ll be terrifying. Quite possibly the msot frightening costume possibility on the market.

C) The Marquess of Queensbury: Your main priority is to be a supreme arsehole, and to muck things up for others as best you can. Don’t dress like a slob, but don’t spend too much time lingering over details of clothing; that’s for sondomites like that blasted Wilde. You’re a bully, and you’re proud of it. Bonus points for every libel suit sparked.

D) Lady Dumbleton: Dye your hair quite gold and pass the crumpets: you’re living entirely for pleasure now! For extra kicks, carry around an urn with your husband’s ashes; you may neve have cared much for the git, but it’ll make for an exquisite conversation piece.

E) A Giant Letter: Any letter, any letter of your choice. For even more fun, co-ordinate with friends and spell out any word you like.

F) Detective Fix: Spend the evening seeking one Phileas Fogg, and chasing down any other perfectly innocent-looking person you might see on the street. You don’t need any particular reason; only good old English instinct, what? Do expect to get into a few fistfights, and don’t expect to win… You’re kind of wussy. But that’s okay, because you’ll have that criminal behind bars, yet! You’re sure of it.

—————————

May edit to add more later. For now, hey, that’s a start. Clearly, you’re prepared to take on ANY Halloween event.

-Kristi

Cyrano, meet Munchausen

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 00:23:00 -0400

Since Drew has taken us down the proverbial Rabbit Hole of Méliès films, that provides an interesting intersection for another set of crossover associations with Cyrano de Bergerac: the fabulous, fabular, fabulating Baron Munchausen (or Munchhausen). Both of them longtime favorites of mine, and I’ve always thought the two had much in common as quasi-mythic literary inspirations from real-life originals who were in some respects even more incredible than their fictional manifestations. Both share qualities as tellers of tall-tales, mad monarchs of mendacity, believers in the fantastic, proponents of panache, and (if traditional illustrations like these are to be credited), proud possessors of profile-enhancing probosci. Not to mention both being, at least in imagination, lunar travelers.

Like Don Quixote and others of a small fraternity, they both challenge the omnipotent imperium of Fact, and prod the world of Empiricism that’s been working on purifying itself for centuries. They also challenge our imagination in wildly and eminently theatrical ways, so it’s no surprise that they have lent themselves to adaptation on stage and on screen.

The earliest [Baron Munchausen film] that is still viewed today [is] Georges Méliès’ Baron Munchausen’s Dream [made in 1911]. In fact the film is a titular adaptation only, narratively owing far more to Edwin S. Porter’s The Dream of a Rarebit Fiend (1906), which in turn is adapted from Winsor McCay’s turn-of-the-century comic strip, Dreams of the Rarebit Fiend. This palimpsest of cultural detritus with a topping, or titling, of Munchausen is typical of a number of the adaptations. Indeed, this is one reason why it is beneficial to view the films chronologically; as much as the Munchausen films are bound to their time and place of origin they are also self-propagating and reflexive to earlier versions.

Méliès’ Baron Munchausen’s Dream

This quoted excerpt comes from the admirably comprehensive, and fairly concise, overview provide at: http://www.horschamp.qc.ca/new_offscreen/munchausen.html. Well worth a click-through.

For the original Raspe text, accompanied by some fantastic illustrations, you can go here to read it online: http://bulfinch.englishatheist.org/baron/Baron.html.

Glossary adventures, hurray!

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 20:21:00 -0400

As a part of this researching-for-Cyrano business, I’ve been pulling together the beginning traces of a glossary. Or something like that. What this means, then, is a lot of basic background, information of the foundation sort, and then the chasing of references major and minute, as picked out of the text. Some of the research-chasing is book-based (books treating the history of France abound, just now), some of it’s web-based, checking one sources against five or ten or fifteen others. All of it can lead down overgrown sidetrails and rabbit-holes and, hey, that’s half the fun of it; never know where the search is going to lead.

Alas and alas, all of this information doesn’t make the final cut of the glossary, or of… Well, of anything seen outside of this so-foggy land known as Dramaturgy. Random facts are shuffled aside, more extensive explanations are trimmed… And all of this is useful, perhaps necessary, because glossaries do seem to be a bit more effective in user-friendly form. Which tends to mean, ah, no fifty-page glossaries (in most cases, thank you).

What of that other information? We-ell, we have it, or someone around here has it, so there’s some personal amusement and enjoyment to be had. Since this thing called tumblr exists, however, figure we could stand to share some of the bits and pieces that come up in the fast-paced thrill of the glossary hunt. This may also give some sense of the veritable web of information (network of groundhog tunnels of information?) that grows out of a single play, the myriad ways in which a play connects to other works and information.

Hence, glossary adventures. Random information (that may or may not make the final cut) whilst searching. And for the first edition of glossary adventures, got just a few for you…

—————————————-

-According to available account, Cyrano de Bergerac actually did take on a hundred men, killing several and driving away the rest. And in general, he seems to’ve been no stranger to daring deeds. Whether this was heroism, the mark of an hot-blooded and intemperate nature, or compensation for his nose (or whatever cause you might consider) is up for debate.

-Mt. Everest is known as Sagarmatha in Nepali and Chomolungma in Tibetan. The mountain wasn’t called “Everest” until 1865, when it was named after Sir George Everest, a Brit and India’s Surveyor general (prior to that, the English designation had been Peak 15).

-Louis XIV came into the monarchy at the age of four. Oh, and this would’ve been the time of absolutism in France… More on that to come, perhaps, but for the moment just gvie a big “hello!” to Richelieu and friends.

-Homing pigeons have long been used to transport messages, prove their use to this day, and were used by the military as recently as the Vietnam War (I’ve restrained myself from looking further than that for the moment, but feel free to have a go, yourself; the internet is populated with heaps upon heaps of pigeons sites).

-Cyrano references and makes use of the 1640 Siege of Arras. The factual Cyrano de Bergerac did indeed fight at Arras, and was wounded as a result.

—————————————-

That’ll do for now, any rate. Presumably, these’ll eventually range from the very basic to the “ohhhh-kay” obscure, but I suppose we’ll see about that. Expect further such adventures… Whenever I feel like tossing something on here, really.

-Kristi

—————-

Edit to note… In the original post, I’d typed “Whether this was heroism, the amrk of an hot-blooded and intemperate nature, or compensation for his nose (or whatever cause you might consider) is up for debate.” Okay, well, “amrk” has been changed to “mark.”

However.

This may not stop me from use “amrk” as a word from this point onward. Just for the record. Some typos are meant to be. (And, really, don’t ask me what that means. Just don’t. Mostly because I don’t bloody know.)

Via www.harkavagrant.com comes this delightful bit of levity, in...

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 13:46:00 -0400

Via www.harkavagrant.com comes this delightful bit of levity, in part at the expense of those wonderful Victorians, and in part in sympathy for them I suppose. As Earnest and its Wilde wit recedes into the distance, with only a few performances remaining, we look back fondly. And share this lighthearted jest.

-GHW