Fault in the Structure

of the front row of the stalls. Next to her was to have been the empty seat which, at this last performance, would be occupied, after the first Act, by Laura.

As she entered the austere and stone-floored vestibule of the town hall, the first person Laura met was William Caxton wearing a lounge suit and a rather striking BBC style tie.

‘Hullo,’ she said, ‘you’re early. You don’t go on stage to speak your little piece until the end of the first Act, do you?’

Denbigh, at first, had opposed the speaking of William Caxton’s little piece from the town hall stage, claiming that it was entirely out of place in the middle of an early eighteenth-century comic opera, especially as the speech had been composed by Mrs Blaine herself in what she fondly believed was the English of Caxton’s day. It ran as follows:

Hear me, ye merry gentles of good making,

And you, ye gentle ladies, with none quaking,

That here upon this stage I ye entreat

To think on them that looken well to eat.

When of your bonte ye do keepen kind,

Have Sister Charity, sweet maid, in mind,

And when Will Caxton’s pageant ye endorse,

Give of your plenty that shall not fare worse.

For Edward Fourth, the Woodvilles and crook’d Dickon

Did favour Caxton and his books y-quicken.

I say you sooth, me needeth not to fain,

To give to charity shall be your gain.

The second to last line was pinched directly from Chaucer, whether Mrs B. knew it or not, but the rest of the lines were her own and she was proud of them.

As the money collected in the streets was to go towards the town council’s Old People’s Holiday Fund, Denbigh, as stated, had given in. He stipulated, however, that Caxton was to appear alone, thus placing an embargo not only on ‘Edward Fourth, the Woodvilles and crook’d Dickon’, but upon the Duke of Clarence (judicially killed before Caxton printed the second edition of the book on chess originally dedicated to him) and also upon that arch-economist, Henry Tudor. All of these were to have appeared on stage and in costume, and for each of them Clarice had composed what she called ‘a little poem of gentle pleading for alms’. However, Denbigh had stood firm about all these ‘extras’.

The first interval had been selected for Caxton’s speech, this for more than one reason. For one thing, in Denbigh’s production, the changing of the scenery from Peachum’s house to the tavern near Newgate took longer than any other of the scenic changes for which the students had opted; for another, also, because the scene took some time to change, there was a more permissible break in the action at this point than at any other.

‘Oh,’ said Caxton, in reply to Laura, ‘I’m to go on first tonight. Lord Denbigh’s orders. He refuses to have a break in his show on the last night. I don’t blame him.’

‘Will you be in the audience after that?’

‘No. I haven’t a seat.’

‘You can have mine for Act One, because I’m on, if that’s any good. After that I shall want it for myself. I’m not prompting this evening. It’s a good seat, front row, next to Dame Beatrice, but you’ll have to hop out of it at the first interval because, as I say, it’s earmarked for me and I want it.’

‘Fair enough, and thanks awfully. So far, I’ve only been able to get a few glimpses of you from the wings. It will be nice to be out in front and have a proper view. The only trouble about your performance, you know, is that it must make the rest of the show fall rather flat.’

‘You’ve got the offer of my fauteuil, so this tribute is unnecessary, although appreciated. Be seeing you.’ She went to the dressing-room she shared with Sybil and Melanie and she thought no more about Caxton-Caret until the end of the first Act, when she slipped into the auditorium to claim her front-row stall.

‘You were a riot,’ he said, standing up as she approached. ‘Many congratulations.’

‘How did your speech go?’ Laura asked.

‘I received polite sporadic applause.’

‘I believe, if you scouted round, you know, you could find an empty seat somewhere if you want to see the rest of the show.’

‘Thanks. I might just do that. There’s no bar here, so people don’t seem to have moved about much.’ He removed himself and Laura seated herself next to Dame Beatrice.

‘There may not be a bar for the audience,’ she said, ‘but there’s plenty of the right stuff flowing freely backstage. I could have topped myself up like a tanker at full load if I’d wanted to. Sybil is laying off, but Melanie, who’s had the dressing-room all to herself until now, is what I should call in mellow mood and as I passed the door of the men’s dressing-room it seemed to me that it was full of the joys of spring. I just hope the silly asses won’t go and overdo it, that’s all. There’s quite enough last-performance joie de vivre about and around without adding any liquid sunshine.’

The second Act of The Beggar’s Opera opens with dialogue. Macheath’s gang reminisce and encourage one another. To them enters Macheath and later he is joined by the ladies of the town. Laura watched him closely, but decided that either, behind the scenes, discretion had proved the better part, or else that he carried his drinks well. The scene, which was lively and tuneful, went even better than on the previous nights. The dance met with spontaneous applause and there was a good deal of laughter at Sukey Tawdrey’s speech: ‘Indeed, madam, if I had not been a fool, I might have liv’d very handsomely with my last friend. But upon