THE LETTERS OF RALPH VAUGHAN WILLIAMS

13 Cheyne Walk

[1910?]

Dear Child,
No, it isn’t that I feel uncomfortable except on a few points of detail.
But there are some problems and the chief one is this – your words at present suggest an absolutely formal and Mozartian setting with regular set numbers and the chorus standing around and having their chips-in at intervals – this is a very good way of doing things and one I have often wanted to try – but the two methods will not mix very well – and, for instance, the fair scene at the beginning would have to convert into the regular ‘chorus sing the praise of a good glass of beer’ sort of thing – which I don’t mind in the least – only we must make up our minds from the start which it is to be – at least I think so – but in these matters I am infinitely bloominger-amateur than you.  I should very much like to know what sort of music you imagined being set to it.  How w^d it be to try a scene in prose, developing into something more lyrical & rhythmical (but not necessarily in cut & dried metres) as the situation demands?  Another point is, I cannot quite see how the characters work out – but this is because I have only see part of it – but we must avoid as far as possible any approach to the stage rustic – the lout grinning through a horse collar – don’t you think so?
For example I’m not sure about Mary being queen of the May – the idea of the virtuous queen of he May is pure Ruskin, indeed I understand that the real queen of the May was usually the village prostitute.  I sh^d much like to have a talk about it, we sh^d clear our minds tremendously – 3.0 on Thursday would suit me admirably if I may come to you then.
I feel the only thing to do really will be to get to work on it and I shall soon find out how it pans out. – But if you think I have got a cut and dried idea of what I want – you’ll be disappointed – I feel hopelessly vague when confronted with facts- I believe the only way will be for you to write what you like and then I see what I can do with it, and begin messing about.
Yours sincerely
R. Vaughan Williams