F. C. Burnand (anxious to learn).”
19, Blandford Square, N.W.,
February 24th, 1881.
“Dear Burnand,
I do not as a rule write the Dramatic Criticism for the Saturday Review, only when the regular critic is away; but you are right in supposing that I am the author of the article on The Colonel.
Your letter was a surprise to me. I liked The Colonel and thought I had said as much: but I liked it in my own way and I am not going to be bullied out of my admiration by the modesty of the author.
I thought it a brightly written farce with a rather weak last act. You tell me, and of course you ought to know, that it is not a farce but a comedy: but if I were to adopt your classification I should not like it at all, and I want to like it if you will let me—in my own way.
You ask where the puns are and in the same breath you tell me where they are. There are three of them you say, and they are all in the right places. But I never hinted, my dear fellow, that they were not in the right places. On the contrary it was your gravity not your humour I found to be in the wrong place. You ask me again where are the evidences of high animal spirits in your play; after your letter I shall begin to doubt my recollections, but I had certainly thought the interest of the play was mainly supported by its high spirits. To be able to keep a wildly extravagant notion alive for the space of three acts, demands I think an ample supply of animal spirits. But is it a crime to have high animal spirits? I thought it was only the gloomy apostle of high art who loathed hilarity.
I haven’t the faintest objection to your tackling me, as you call it, but you must give me leave to speak freely. When I hear you say that The Colonel is farcical neither in plot nor characters, I begin seriously to wonder whether your letter is not altogether a form of practical joke.