The cinnamon heart — A Reader’s Guide

The Suitors' Gastronomic Serenade

The opening number establishes a recurring pattern: lofty romantic conventions are punctured by mundane or ridiculous details. The suitors compare their love to natural phenomena like 'Why doth the Chicadee / Eat up the bumble bee?' and 'Why doth the juicy clam / Stay in salt water?'—each answered with 'It is what they all love to do.' This mock-logical structure undercuts the sincerity of their plea. The lyrics are peppered with food references (sangaree, apple pie) that tie directly to the candy-themed kingdom. Readers should note how the libretto uses these non sequiturs to create humor, often at the expense of the suitors' dignity. The stage direction 'All change to another position and sing' suggests choreographed absurdity, a hallmark of the farce.

Eben's Reluctance and the Princess's Persistence

The central comic conflict emerges in Act I when Eben, the reluctant lover, responds to Princess Caramella's advances with a repeated refrain: 'I’d rather not.' This phrase becomes a running gag, deflating Caramella's increasingly desperate pleas. She offers a lavish wedding—'Flowers, and silk and satin for me; / Jewelry, wine, tobacco for thee'—but Eben remains unmoved. The duet that follows, where they sing overlapping lines, showcases the libretto's playful use of repetition and counterpoint. Caramella's shift from weeping to anger ('There!—is the villain!') redirects suspicion toward Professor Finigin, hinting at a plot mechanism. Readers should watch how Eben's stubbornness drives the action, as the king threatens to have him 'pounded into jelly.'

The Chemist's Laboratory and Hidden Schemes

Act II shifts to the Chemist’s Laboratory, a setting described with 'bottles, skulls, skeletons, etc.' and a 'concealed door (on pivot).' This environment introduces a darker, pseudo-scientific element to the candy-land farce. Professor Paracelsus Finigin, listed as a bass, likely orchestrates some alchemical mischief. The stage directions emphasize hidden spaces and props, suggesting that physical comedy and surprise entrances will play a key role. The contrast between the bright courtyard of Act I and this cluttered, macabre lab indicates a tonal shift. Readers should note that the lab's details—stone forge, arched window—are typical of melodrama, but the candy context keeps the tone light. The pivot door hints at eavesdropping or mistaken identity, common farce devices.

Devastation and Return in Act III

The final act returns to the Castle Courtyard, but now with 'window broken and signs of devastation.' This visual escalation suggests that the candy scrape has turned chaotic, likely involving the chemists' experiments or the suitors' antics. The libretto's structure—three acts, with the third mirroring the first but altered—is typical of farce, where order is disrupted and then restored (or further disrupted). The broken window implies offstage violence or slapstick. Readers approaching the end should anticipate a resolution that ties together the romantic impasse, the professor's schemes, and the king's bluster. The musical numbers likely return to the opening themes, perhaps with a twist. The devastation may be played for laughs rather than genuine threat, consistent with the overall tone.

As a farcical libretto, The Cinnamon Heart rewards attention to its wordplay, stage directions, and musical cues. The repeated 'I’d rather not' and the food-obsessed lyrics are not random but form a consistent comic vocabulary. Readers should imagine the performance: the suitors' choreographed movements, the pivot door's timing, and the contrast between the princess's earnestness and Eben's deadpan refusal. The candy theme is not merely decorative but infuses the humor, from King Nougat's name to the 'melted ice-cream' left from a party. Approach this text as a script meant to be seen and heard, where the gaps between romantic ideal and ridiculous reality generate the laughter.

There’s a moment in The Cinnamon Heart when the reluctant lover’s quiet “I’d rather not” feels strangely tender, like a door left ajar in a candy castle. It reminded me of another refusal, softer and older, in The Scottish History of James the Fourth 1598 — A Reader’s Guide—how the heart’s hesitations often speak louder than its boldest songs.