Walter Macken
Page 17
You must forgive us if we once more suggest that the present title is not at all attractive, and ask you to think of something more likely to appeal to the reader or, as we may hope, the playgoer. ‘House Divided’, ‘Vacant Possession’ (if the term is used in Ireland) or ‘Rent Free’ would represent the kind of thing we have in mind.
As regards the novel, ‘Cockle and Mustard’, we are afraid that what we have to say may be something of a disappointment to you. It has been read by the advisors who reported for us on the works we have undertaken to publish, but they are of the opinion that in this instance you have not done yourself full justice. The characters and background are well depicted and convincing, but the sense of drama and the memorable descriptions of rural Ireland which impressed them in ‘Quench the Moon’ are lacking in this new story. It is possible that, though you may have had the theme in mind for a long time, you may have hurried the writing, but, whatever the reason, the book has not the depth or the emotional quality of which your other work has shown you to be capable. It would not, we feel, be in your best interests if it were issued at any rate in its present form.
Though we are returning the manuscript by registered post, we should be ready to reconsider it if you decided to present it again when you have been able to revise it. In that case you might like to consider our reader’s suggestion that Joseph’s excursion with the cow is not particularly relevant, and that Nancy’s tussle in the car would lose very little if it were described with more restraint. On the other hand you may be inclined to leave this story for a subject and a setting that will give you wider scope, and that might well prove to be the wiser course.
We hope to publish ‘Mungo’s Mansion’ in January next (1947) and ‘Quench the Moon’ in the following autumn. The new play would come out at the beginning of 1948, and it would suit us very well if you had another novel of yours ready for the autumn of that year. It is still a slow business to produce even a straightforward book, so that the manuscript of a new novel should be in our hands about a year before it is intended to appear. We need scarcely say that we shall look forward to seeing anything that you may have to show us.
We are sure that you will accept our comments on ‘Cockle and Mustard’ in the right spirit, as they arise from our high opinion of the promise shown in your first novel and our anxiety for the rapid and permanent establishment of your reputation as a writer.
We are,
Yours faithfully,
Macmillan & Co. Ltd.
What a heart-breaking letter to receive! My father answered the letter within a few days:
2 Whitestrand House.
25–11–’46
Dear Sir,
I thank you for your letter of the 23rd and find the terms for the publication of the play completely acceptable, and I will endeavour to think up a title on the lines you have suggested. I don’t seem to be very hot on titles, do I?
Naturally enough, I am disappointed about the book. Of the two books it is the one which I have had the ambition to write since I came to the age of reason. The first one I had in mind was to give an essay on life in the country of Connemara and the second one was to be my masterpiece, life in an Irish city as it has never been depicted before, and based mainly on my own memories and in the environment in which I grew up (even the cow incident was the way I learned the facts of life on a visit to the country).
I realised of course that depicting the city life, here there would be no scope for sweeping beauty or violent nature, it would be the difference between the breeze of a tall mountain and the air of a stuffy city kitchen. I knew that there would have to be an abandonment of beauty, but I thought that the vision of the new Ireland struggling up from the chaos of the 1920s would in some way compensate for what I was losing. Well there you are. Perhaps I wanted to write it too much. It has been boiling in me so long that it probably became hard, like an egg too long in water.
I am not quite clear about your letter and what it means. Do you mean that you do not think that it would be possible for me to revise it so that it would be acceptable to you, that it would be better for us all if I let the dead rest? You say, on the other hand you may be inclined to leave this story for a subject and setting that will give you wider scope, and that might well prove to be the wiser course. Do you mean by this the story of the book as a whole or a reference to the Nancy incident?
I accept all you say in the proper spirit because I realise that you know what you are advising, and indeed it is good to have somebody who is sufficiently interested to tell you when you are putting a foot wrong, so I would be glad if you would tell me what exactly you mean about the book.
I would be quite willing to sweat over a revision of it, and in one or two chapters apart from those you mention if I thought that in your honest opinion such a proceeding would be of value to make something out of the book. But if you think that nothing can be made of it at all, I would be grateful to be told that too. I am grateful to you for your letter, your acceptance of the play (this came as a bit of surprise to me), your gentle methods of criticism, your suggestions, and your unfailing courtesy, and remain.
Yours very sincerely,
Walter Macken
Macmillan answered his letter within days, an excerpt of which is below:
5th December 1946
Dear Sir,
We write to thank you for your letter of November 25th, and to enclose a formal agreement for the publication of your play, at present entitled ‘Three Days in the Gantry’. If you will kindly sign it and return it to us, we will send you a duplicate signed by ourselves.
As regards your novel, ‘Cockle and Mustard’, we should like to consider very carefully what you say, and to consult our advisors once more, so perhaps you will allow us a little time to do this. We are very anxious to give you the best advice in our power as regards the revision or abandonment of this particular work, and we must thank you for the way in which you accepted the observations we have already made upon it.
My father answered their letter quite quickly:
2 Whitestrand House.
9/12/46
Dear Sir,
I thank you for your letter and the contract and return the latter duly signed. With regard to the title, I have been thinking about it and I have reduced it to three: ‘Free for All’, ‘Vacant Possession’ or ‘Free Forever’.
I like ‘Free for All’ on account of its double meaning, but I don’t know whether I like it better than your suggestion of ‘Vacant Possession’, which is a very good title, so I leave it to yourself to pick the one of the three which you think most suitable.
I am looking forward to your decision with regard to ‘Cockle and Mustard’.
Yours sincerely,
Walter Macken
While worrying about his novel, he received a letter from John Perry concerning the forthcoming production:
The Company of Four.
December 11th 1946
Dear Mr Macken,
The cast of the play is as follows: Arthur Sinclair, Max Adrian, Marjorie Rhodes for ‘Winnie’, E.J. Kennedy for the ‘Doctor’, Brian and Dennis Carey for ‘Mairteen’ and ‘Mr Manders’, Phyllis Ryan [later to become an important theatre producer in Dublin] as ‘Nellie’ Billy Kelly as ‘Mr Skerrett’ and Norah Lever as ‘Mrs Manders’. We start rehearsals next Monday and open at Bournemouth on January 20th. We then play Cambridge and come in to the Lyric Hammersmith on February 4th.
By all means give this information to the ‘Irish Press’. Let me know when you are coming over and if we can help you about arranging accommodation.
Yours sincerely,
John Perry
Macmillan wrote to my father that same week with bad news about his novel:
Macmillan & Co. Ltd.
16th December 1946
Dear Sir,
We wish to thank you for your letter of December 9th and to enclose your copy of the agreement, signed by ourselves, for your new play, together with a cheque for t
he advance payment of £40 less tax. Of the three titles you mention, we prefer ‘Vacant Possession’, and we propose to use that instead of ‘Three Days in the Gantry’, unless you happen to think of something that would please you better.
As we mentioned in our letter of December 5th, we asked our advisers to tell us, while the book was fresh in their minds, what they felt would be the best advice that could be given about your ‘Cockle and Mustard’. Their replies, which are quite independent, as neither had seen the other’s report, are in close agreement, and they recommend that in your own interests you should not attempt to re-construct the book, but should devote your time and talents to an entirely new piece of work. ‘Cockle and Mustard’, they feel has possibly been in your mind too long, and it has in consequence lost the freshness and savour that marked your ‘Quench the Moon’. They have a keen sympathy with any author who is advised to take such a course with a book by which he himself sets store. It demands a great deal of courage to make this sacrifice, but they believe that if you could bring yourself to let this book go, you would in the long run have no reason to regret it.
Other authors have had a similar experience when their gifts have not at first displayed themselves in a wide enough field, and sometimes their personal feeling for a story they have discarded has worked itself into a later book with impressive effect. We therefore hope that you will not be unduly discouraged by this verdict upon ‘Cockle and Mustard’, and that you will feel able to turn confidently to another theme and perhaps a larger setting.
Material considerations cannot, of course, be ignored, and it occurs to us that possibly a little financial assistance from us would enable you to approach your new work with a freer mind. If you felt inclined to accept it, we should be pleased to arrange for you to receive £3 weekly for a year, beginning on January 1st 1947, this sum to be charged to your general account with us – by which we mean it would ultimately be charged against the total earnings of your books, reckoned together. Perhaps you will kindly let us know if you would like us to do this.
You probably know that at present we are bound by law to deduct tax at 9 shillings in the pound from any payments we make to you. If, however, you will obtain form K3 from your local Inspector of Taxes in Éire, complete it and forward it to the address on the form, we should in due course be authorised to make any payments to you in full, without deduction of tax.
Any advice we can give you in all these matters, or as regards your literary work, is always at your disposal.
We are yours faithfully,
Macmillan & Co. Ltd.
While it must have been disappointing for him to get the bad news about his novel, their offer of £3 a week was a generous offer considering at that time he was earning £3–15–0 in the Taibhdhearc. My father thought about their letter for over two weeks before finally composing the following letter in answer to it:
2 Whitestrand House.
31/12/46
Dear Sir,
I thank you for your letter of the 16th, and thank you for the copy of the agreement and your cheque, and your advice about form K3 of which I had never heard. About the title of the play, I think you should leave it at ‘Vacant Possession’, because it is very apt, dramatic and it would be hard to think of a better one.
And that duly brings me to the question of ‘Cockle and Mustard’. I suppose by now you are very used to the vagaries and temperaments of the people who try to write things, so you will understand the many moods through which I passed before I got down to write this letter. I put it off over the Christmas until my final feelings could mature.
Well having passed through the wounded ego stage first during which the honourable firm of Macmillan & Co. suffered exceedingly, I then passed to the despondent stage during which Macken got it in the neck and from that to the present stage of reality, or quasi-reality.
And the result? Well I suppose you could easily foretell, I have more or less decided to inter the book, but the final obsequies I will postpone until I can have a chat with you in person (if such is possible). My wife and I will be going to see the London production of ‘Mungo’, and we will be in London from Tuesday to Friday February 3rd to the 7th, and I wonder if I could call to see you on one of those days. I would like to hear more of why you dislike the book so that I can avoid the same mistakes when I tackle the next one. I have decided to tackle the next one which will be called (by me) ‘The Laughing Lady’ and hope to have it completed by autumn of next year, but I would prefer to postpone its tackling until I talk to you. If C and M is such a botch, how on earth is the next one going to be any better, I know it will have to be but there’s no such comfort in that.
I appreciate very much your offer of £3 a week, but at the moment I’m refusing it, but would be obliged if you would leave it until I can talk to you about it. It would mean an appreciable difference in our finances, but I feel it is better to write from necessity. It at least provides the urge, and if I take that I would feel bound to set to because I was eating my own tail.
Now that the wound to my ego has healed, and taken its place amongst the many other scars of the same article, I would like to say that I am grateful to you for your advice and appreciate that it is all for the best, and apart from that it is always a good thing, lest a man get a little above himself, that he should get a solid kick. It reduces things to their proper perspective and, we may hope, makes a better man out of him.
Thanking you again, and hoping that we may be able to fix a date.
Yours sincerely,
Walter Macken
The next letter I have came from Lovat Dickson:
Macmillan & Co. Ltd.
3rd January 1947
Dear Mr Macken,
Thank you for your letter of December 31st. I am glad that you agree about the title of the play. We shall, then, leave it at ‘Vacant Possession’.
I am glad to hear that you are coming to London from Monday February 3rd to Friday February 7th and I look forward very much to the opportunity of meeting you then. Would you and your wife have lunch with me on Wednesday February 4th? If this day is convenient to you, will you call for me here at ten minutes to one and we will go to a restaurant nearby.
Can you send over to me before that the MS of ‘Cockle and Mustard’? I should like to read it again before we meet, to refresh my mind about the details of the story. My fellow directors and I would be only too glad to talk over with you the problem of this book, and I am glad that you have postponed the interment until after the inquest!
Yours sincerely,
Lovat Dickson
The Company of Four theatre group wrote to him to tell him they would arrange accommodation for him and his wife in London and that the play would be opening at the Palace Court Theatre in Bournemouth.
Lovat Dickson sent him a short note on 13 January:
Macmillan & Co. Ltd.
13th January 1947
Dear Mr Macken,
Thank you for your letter of January 7th. I meant Wednesday 5th February and look forward to seeing you and Mrs Macken here at about ten minutes to one that day. I am glad you are sending the MS of ‘Cockle and Mustard’. It and the short MS you are sending with it have not yet arrived, but they are no doubt held up over the unpleasant strike we are experiencing as the moment. We will look forward to reading it, and will try and give you a helpful opinion on it.
Yours sincerely,
Lovat Dickson
There was news from John Perry about the opening of Galway Handicap (the English title for Mungo’s Mansion) in Bourne-mouth:
The Company of Four.
January 21st 1947
Dear Mr Macken,
The play went well last night and had a good reception. It wants a good deal of work done on it, and I hope we shall be able to do this during the next fortnight. We may have to cut it, as parts of it seem to drag with English audiences, though it is difficult to make certain about this for a few performances, as naturally the company was very nerv
ous and some of the performances were rather ragged.
Looking forward to seeing you very much.
Yours sincerely,
John Perry
A few days later, a telegram arrived at Whitestrand House on 28 January:
Play going much better – please tell any Irish contingent who want seats for first night on Tuesday February 4th to apply to Lyric Hammersmith – John Perry.
My mother and father went to London in February and while they were away a letter arrived at Whitestrand House from Macmillan with good news, outlined in this excerpt:
We are publishing your play, ‘Mungo’s Mansion’ on Friday February 7th and we are sending you the usual six author’s copies.
While in London my parents attended the first night of Galway Handicap and when my father came home he wrote to Irene Hentschel about her production of his play:
2 Whitestrand House.
Monday, 17th February 1947
Dear Miss Hentschel,
Sufficient time has passed over our heads to dispel the glamour of the big city and to return our feelings to normality. I duly take my typewriter in hand to drop you the promised line. I’m very sorry to see that the weather has continued as sour as it can, and believe me when I say that I am principally sorry for yourself and the actors when you have hammered such a magnificent job on ‘Mungo’. They will never be able to take that away from you anyway. I heard from a few Galway people who had been to see the play and they say that you’d swear that the producer had been born and bred in Galway and personally I think that is the highest tribute that could be paid to your work on the play.