The Maid of the 
                Mountains was one of the two big 
                hits on the London stage during the 
                First World War, one that ran for 1,352 
                consecutive performances. It’s not as 
                well remembered as Chu Chin Chow 
                but it brought almost as much cheer 
                and enjoyment. Its composer was from 
                a moneyed family, London-born but Highlands-leaning. 
                Harold Fraser Simson - the hyphen was 
                a later affectation - began life in 
                the City of London but his musical aspirations, 
                strong though cautiously delayed, finally 
                bore fruit in 1911 when a comic opera 
                called Bonita hit the London 
                boards. 
              
 
              
Five years later he 
                worked with lyricist Harry Graham on 
                The Maid of the Mountains, a 
                book by Frederick Lonsdale. Its stage 
                self comprised a comic mêlée 
                of Governors, Generals, brigands, citizens 
                and assorted dancing girls, just the 
                thing for 1916. Musically speaking Fraser-Simson 
                owed a great debt to G&S, to Lehár 
                in the waltz scene and in the more esoteric 
                moments to the Coleridge-Taylor of Hiawatha 
                and the lighter orchestral music. There 
                were some interpolations during the 
                early stages. James W Tate, brother 
                of Maggie Teyte, supplied three impressive 
                numbers, My life is love, Love 
                will find a way (maybe the best 
                known song of all) and A paradise 
                for two. Tate happened to be the 
                stepfather of one of the original stars 
                of the production, José Collins. 
                For those interested in esoterica one 
                of Tate’s writing partners was Archibald 
                Thomas Pechey who wrote under the august 
                name "Valentine" and was the 
                father of TV cook Fanny Craddock. Such 
                are the ways of theatrical dynasties. 
              
 
              
The musical play has 
                its peculiarities in that Baldassare, 
                its leading man, Michael George, sonorous 
                and packed with personality as ever, 
                recites rather than sings. Its original 
                performer was a leading figure of the 
                time, and a suitable candidate for the 
                non-singing actor, Arthur Wontner. Nevertheless 
                there’s plenty of verve and variety 
                to see one through, especially when 
                the brigand Beppo holds the stage. This 
                was a role taken in the first production 
                by Thorpe Bates, a singer of wide repute 
                and one who made many 78 discs. The 
                maid is the Collins role. These parts 
                are here taken by Christopher Maltman 
                and Janis Kelly. They’re both full of 
                personality and command, and Kelly is 
                fearless when called upon. 
              
 
              
Richard Corp leads 
                an evocative performance using full 
                orchestrations. His direction is assured 
                and knowing. There are some opportunities 
                for the solo violin in the Nocturne 
                and for the principal cello in Dividing 
                the Spoil in Act I. Strings are 
                warm and sympathetic. Maltman is especially 
                fine in this number with its G&S 
                resonance. Though the three acts seem 
                well proportioned the finale to Act 
                I is very brief and perhaps a little 
                unsatisfactory – it lasts barely a minute. 
              
 
              
Donald Maxwell does 
                a splendid turn as the General and the 
                smaller parts are all excellently cast 
                and well taken. There are no weak links, 
                no signs of slumming or archness. Love 
                will find a way does have a Lehár 
                lilt and A Bachelor Gay has a 
                rude music-hall vitality that momentarily 
                takes us to from a musical play to the 
                sing-along of the halls – infectious, 
                actually. 
              
 
              
The notes, from which 
                I’ve cribbed much of the background, 
                are excellent and amusing. The booklet 
                has full texts. You’ll have encountered 
                this first on Hyperion CDA67190, released 
                back in 2000, but at its reduced Helios 
                price bracket this is a veritably enjoyable 
                slice of British musical theatre. 
              
 
              
Jonathan Woolf