"Dear Camma," he answered, "I have given your messages to my father,
but believe me, who am not 'common report,' that he will thoroughly
appreciate your noble, _most_ beautiful and imaginative rendering of
'Camma.' My father and myself hope to see you soon, but not while this
detestable cold weather lasts. We trust that you are not now really the
worse for that night of nights.
"With all our best wishes,
"Yours ever sincerely,
"HALLAM TENNYSON."
"I quite agree with you as to H.I.'s Synorix."
The music of "The Cup" was not up to the level of the rest. Lady
Winchilsea's setting of "Moon on the field and the foam," written within
the compass of eight notes, for my poor singing voice, which will not go
up high nor down low, was effective enough, but the music as a whole was
too "chatty" for a severe tragedy. One night when I was singing my very
best:
"Moon, bring him home, bring him home,
Safe from the dark and the cold,"
some one in the audience _sneezed_. Every one burst out laughing, and I
had to laugh too. I did not even attempt the next line.
"The Cup" was called a failure, but it ran 125 nights, and every night
the house was crowded! On the hundredth night I sent Tennyson the Cup
itself.
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