Goddess of the Green Room: (Georgian Series) Page 7

  ‘Why not?’ demanded Grace indignantly.

  ‘Because we are not the same type. She has all that dignity; and you must agree, Mamma, that my dignity is more often off-stage than on. She wrings their hearts: I make them laugh. She’s Lady Macbeth; I’m the Romp. There’s room for us both, I’m sure, but I have to make them see this.’

  ‘You are going to make Mr Sheridan see?’

  ‘I have to, Mamma. I can never rival Sarah. How could I! She’s already there. They accept her. She’s the Queen of tragedy and nobody is going to jostle her off her throne. As well try to take the King’s crown from him. I’m not going to let them put me into tragedy. I’m going to insist that I choose the play for my début – and it’s going to be comedy.’

  Hester said: ‘She’s right, Mamma. Absolutely right.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll allow you to choose?’ asked Grace fearfully.

  ‘Surely it’s the right of any actress to choose her first play.’ Dorothy laughed. ‘Don’t be frightened, Mamma. Leave it to me. I’ll make them understand. There’s one thing I’m determined on. This is the great opportunity. It may come only once in a lifetime. I’m not going to miss it.’

  It was easier to persuade Mr Sheridan than she had anticipated. With his manager, Tom King, he received her in his office and listened courteously to what she had to say. She was earnest and very appealing, he thought, and he was quick to recognize that quality in her which was rare and yet so essential to an actress. It was not beauty – in fact when she was not animated she was not even pretty – but when her face lit up and that inner vitality was visible she had a fascination which he guessed would be irresistible to an audience.

  ‘You see, Mr Sheridan,’ she said, ‘it is no use my trying to rival Mrs Siddons. The public has made her its Tragedy Queen. They’d accept no other, however good. Miss Elizabeth Farren plays like a perfect lady and the public accept her for that. I have to be different. They love Mrs Siddons for her dignity, Miss Farren for her elegance; I have to win them through laughter. I must play comedy, Mr Sheridan. It’s necessary if I am going to succeed.’

  She was vehement. Sheridan looked at Tom King and knew what he was thinking. An actress must have the chance of choosing how she would make her début. And she was right when she said she could not take over Siddons’ role. It was hardly likely that she could out-tragedy the Tragedy Queen and if she did there would be trouble.

  ‘All right,’ said Sheridan. ‘Comedy. What do you say to The Country Girl?’

  She smiled delightedly. ‘I’d say yes please.’

  ‘Good. The Country Girl it is.’

  ‘Well, Tom,’ said Sheridan when she had left them. ‘What do you think of our actress?’

  ‘I’ll reserve my judgement till after the play.’

  ‘Coward. I wasn’t asking for the judgement of the audience. I was asking but yours.’

  ‘I don’t know. She’s small.’

  ‘You’re thinking in terms of Siddons. We don’t want another Juno striding across the boards.’

  ‘Her voice is good but it doesn’t boom…’

  ‘Like Sarah’s. I tell you this, Tom: One Siddons is enough in any company.’

  ‘I thought you were looking for another Siddons.’

  ‘Then you haven’t been thinking enough. Consider all we suffer from our divine Sarah. Do you think I want to double trouble. Do you?’

  ‘She’s a draw.’

  ‘Sarah’s a draw. No one denies it. But she does condescend somewhat, eh, Tom? I feel I should bow from the waist every time I approach and walk out backwards after being received.’

  ‘You would know how to behave in the presence of royalty better than I.’

  ‘Sarah’s more royal than any of their Royal Highnesses. As for Their Majesties there’s little royalty in the Hall of Purity at Kew, I do assure you. I’d sooner ask a favour of His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, than of Our Majesty Queen Sarah. I pin. my hopes on little Mrs Jordan. I want Sarah to have a rival… here in the theatre. I want the carriages to cram the streets on the way to the Lane to see Dorothy Jordan just as they do to see Sarah Siddons.’

  ‘And you think you’re going to bring about this miracle, Sherry?’

  ‘My dear Tom, didn’t you know I was a worker of miracles? We need a miracle or Harris over at the Garden will be taking our business away. You’ll consider yourself lucky that I brought Jordan to the Lane before Harris got her for the Garden.’

  ‘I sense that you feel some confidence in this young woman.’

  ‘I do – and you know that – theatrically – I am invariably right.’

  King looked dubious and Sheridan burst out laughing.

  ‘I’ll persuade the Prince to patronize the show.’

  ‘He won’t want to be caught by another pretty actress just yet.’

  ‘He’s always interested in pretty actresses and he’s forgotten poor Perdita by now. We’ll see what she’s like on her first night and if she’s good enough she shall play before His Highness.’

  King continued to shake his head, but Sheridan only laughed. His unerring theatrical sense insisted to him that he had done right to bring Mrs Jordan to London.

  She was nervous. How could she help it – her first night at Drury Lane! Grace and Hester were anxious as she was – more so. She could assure herself that she knew the part backwards, and she did know that as soon as she got on to the boards and started to act all her fears would disappear. But poor Hester would be recalling the fiasco of that night in Dublin. Grace would be trembling, too.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Dorothy. ‘I’ll do it. I couldn’t have better than The Country Girl.’

  ‘It’s somewhat bawdy,’ said Grace timidly.

  ‘That’s what they like about it, Mamma.’

  ‘At least Mr Garrick adapted it,’ Hester reminded them. ‘So if he thought it was good…’

  ‘I believe you could have outdone that Siddons woman, Dolly.’

  Dorothy began to play Lady Macbeth in an exaggerated manner reminiscent of Sarah Siddons.

  ‘You’ll be the death of me, Doll,’ laughed Hester.

  ‘Only hope they’ll be as easily amused tonight,’ prayed Dorothy. ‘Peggy is just my part. As good as the Priscilla Tomboy in The Romp really. I think Peggy will go down better in Drury Lane than Priscilla would have done. Stop worrying, you two, or you’ll make me nervous.’

  She was rehearsing the part, remembering how she had watched Mrs Brown play it up in York, saying to herself: This is just the part for me. She would play it as no one had ever played it before. She would have that sophisticated London audience laughing or if she did not she would give up the boards altogether.

  ‘Stop fretting,’ she cried. ‘I’m not worried… if you are.’

  It was not a full house. Had she been foolish to hope for it? Why should the fashionable people of London come out to see a little provincial actress who had not yet proved what she could do?

  She wondered what it was like over at Covent Garden. Was there a full house there tonight?

  Although she was as yet of no importance the critics would be there in full force. She could almost hear their comments: ‘Is this Sheridan’s newest venture? Does he hope this little girl is going to pay his debts?’

  I’m going to prove to him and to them that his trust in me is not misplaced, she told herself.

  Gentleman Smith was in the audience. She must not disappoint him either for she owed her presence here to him. She had to play as never before. And she was going to.

  The joy of being on the stage was to forget all anxieties; she was Peggy and those who had come to see her recognized an actress when they came face to face with one. She had the true comic quality and there was something indefinable but definitely there, a charm which Siddons lacked. Dorothy wanted to make them laugh; Siddons wanted them to do homage to the muse and to Siddons. There was a difference. Sheridan recognized this quality at once; he grinned at Gentleman Smith who lightl
y flicked a fly from the lace ruffles at his wrist and looked, as Sheridan pointed out to him, ‘smug’ – and with reason.

  ‘You like the little Jordan, Sherry?’ asked Smith.

  ‘We might well keep her,’ was the reply.

  ‘I saw Harris of the Garden in the house.’

  ‘Ha! Worried about my little Jordan, no doubt.’

  ‘He has need to be.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ The applause at the end of the play was moderate. Dorothy, who had been used to northern audiences who expressed their appreciation or scorn with more abandon was a little disturbed; but Mr Sheridan came to her dressing room and kissed her warmly.

  ‘Well done, my dear,’ he said.

  Grace could not wait to read what the critics had to say. They were not enthusiastic, but at the same time not all unkind.

  The Morning Herald was the best. It commented on her delightful figure, pointing out that though small it was neat and elegant and shown to advantage when she appeared dressed as a boy in the third act. Her face might not be beautiful but was pretty and intelligent. Her voice if not peculiarly sweet was not harsh, if not strong was clear and equal to the demands of the theatre. She was active and brought out best in the comic aspects of the play and the conclusion was that she would be a valuable asset to the stage.

  No one could have said more than that. Dorothy was a success.

  This satisfactory début was not in the least impaired when Harris of the Garden tried to denigrate her. She was a vulgar little piece, he said, and might do for Filch in The Beggar’s Opera.

  Some wit standing by, laughed at Harris’ envy of Sheridan’s find.

  ‘Certainly she would,’ was his reply, ‘for she filches our hearts away.’

  So the world of the theatre after one performance of The Country Girl was sure that Dorothy Jordan had come to stay.

  It was disappointing after that initial success not to be able to play for a week, but Mrs Siddons who was expecting a child was anxious to appear as often as possible before her enforced retirement and Dorothy quickly learned that every other actress and actor was expected to stand aside for the Queen of the Theatre.

  But in due course Dorothy’s chance came and this time her fame had spread and it was a full house.

  How right she had been to insist on comedy! She knew there was no one at Drury Lane to equal her in that sphere and she had always believed that although they might thrill to Sarah’s drama, audiences liked above all things to laugh. She had that god-given gift – to amuse while she entertained. She was going to use it whenever she had an opportunity.

  There came the wonderful occasion when she had her first glimpse of royalty. The rumour ran through the theatre: Tonight the Prince of Wales is coming with his uncle the Duke of Cumberland.

  There was a great deal of chatter about the royal family. The Prince was at loggerheads with his father. It was an old Hanoverian custom for fathers to quarrel with their sons. The puritanical old King who had remained faithful to his ugly wife for years and whose joint efforts had been to give the nation fifteen royal children to provide for, was estranged from his brilliant, clever and wild son, the Prince of Wales, who had already shocked his family and delighted the scandalmongers by his affair with an actress, Mrs Robinson, who had produced his letters and threatened to publish them if she were not amply rewarded.

  The Prince’s friend, that wily politician Charles James Fox, had arranged the deal to the satisfaction of all parties and had himself become the lover of Mrs Robinson for a while which apparently seemed to the Prince a satisfactory conclusion, for his friendship with Fox was greater after the affair than before; and Fox and Sheridan were close friends, which meant that the manager of Drury Lane was on terms of intimacy not only with Mr Fox but with the Prince of Wales. Now there were rumours of his love affair with Mrs Fitzherbert and some went so far as to say he was married to her.

  Harris was furious that royalty should patronize the Lane more than the Garden and there was little that delighted Sheridan more than Harris’ jealous rage.

  Mrs Siddons believed that she should perform on the occasion.

  His Highness would surely wish to see the very best the Lane had to offer.

  ‘Tonight, my divine Sarah,’ Sheridan told her, ‘the Prince does not wish to be greatly moved. And how could he look on one of your performances and not be? He wants a light evening’s entertainment. He will come later to see real theatre.’

  Sarah was mollified and graciously inclined her head. She thought it was wrong to put on the Jordan woman; it was said that she was unmarried, and whose child was that Frances in that case? And did it not let down the tone of the theatre to give prominence to people like Jordan?

  ‘I fear the tone of the theatre is so low, Sarah my dear, that Jordan could not bring it lower. It is respectable married ladies like yourself who lift it – with your acting and your exemplary private life. You are an example to us all.’

  ‘Well, you must do what you wish.’

  Indeed that is one thing you can be sure of, thought Sheridan.

  ‘But I think you are wrong to bring that creature to the notice of His Highness.’

  ‘My virtuous Sarah is thinking that His Highness might wish to repeat the Robinson adventure?’

  ‘I do not, Jordan is vulgar. Mrs Robinson tried always to be… refined.’

  How hard she tried! he thought. Poor Perdita! ‘You have taken a weight off my mind, Sarah my dear. Now I shall feel happier. Our little Jordan’s shortcomings will save her from Perdita’s fate. And you should rest. Moreover, His Highness’s affections are firmly held elsewhere. William will be angry with you if you forget your condition and tire yourself.’

  He smiled, thinking of poor Will Siddons who scarcely dared raise his voice in Sarah’s presence.

  Sheridan went on: ‘It is because of your condition, Sarah, that I have to offer His Highness second rate fare tonight. I could not allow William to reproach me for putting you through an ordeal which at the time is too much for you.’

  She was placated.

  It was time, Sheridan told himself, that he had an actress with the ability to draw as full a house as Sarah. It was the only way of controlling her.

  His hopes were fixed on Jordan.

  So this was Royalty. This good-looking young man with the plump freshly coloured face, the pert nose which gave a friendly touch to his face, the alert blue eyes and the elegant person. The diamond star on his velvet coat was dazzling – but not more so than he. He was elegant in the extreme; and the manner in which he bowed to the audience was quite exquisite. His box on the stage was so close to her that she could see him clearly and his eyes followed her and were particularly appreciative when in the third act she appeared in male costume.

  With him was a less attractive member of the royal family: his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, glittering and royal, but debauched and completely lacking the Prince’s fresh good looks.

  Cumberland was in disgrace and not received at court because he had married without the consent of his brother, the King, a lady who had had many amatory adventures before she had captivated Cumberland and who, Horace Walpole had said, was possessed of the most marvellous eyelashes he had ever seen; they were ‘about a yard long’. Because of this marriage the King had introduced the Royal Marriage Act which forbade any member of the royal family to marry before he reached the age of twenty-five without the consent of the King.

  Cumberland might not be received by his brother but he had become the constant companion of his nephew, the Prince of Wales, and now the Prince was growing up – he must be about her own age, Dorothy thought – he had his own little court and it was becoming like a repetition of previous reigns when there had been a King’s and a Prince’s court in opposition to each other. The Prince’s friends were Whigs; the King’s Tories. The Prince’s friends and mentors in politics were Mr Charles James Fox and Sheridan, and the King was relying more and more on young Mr William Pitt, who two years b
efore, at the age of twenty-five, had become his Prime Minister.

  In the new world into which she had come Dorothy learned of these matters. Royalty was closer. How could it be otherwise when it came to the theatre and sat in a box a few yards away. Here in London she could see the important members of the government in their carriages on their way to Parliament. One day she would catch a glimpse of the King and Queen, the Princes and the Princesses who made up that large family.

  Here in London, in Drury Lane, was the centre of affairs.

  And now she was playing before the Prince of Wales.

  She heard his laughter. It stimulated her. He leaned over the box and applauded her. When at the end of the play she turned to his box and curtsied, he rose and bowed in such an elegant manner that she might have been royalty. The applause was thunderous.

  A successful evening. The approval of royalty! What more could an actress eager to make her name desire?

  ‘His Royal Highness is impressed with Mrs Jordan,’ said Sheridan to Tom King. ‘But for the disaster with Mrs Perdita Robinson and the fact that his love is dedicated to Mrs Fitzherbert we might have a royal romance on our hands.’

  Dorothy followed Peggy in The Country Girl with Viola in Twelfth Night and then Miss Prue in Love for Love.

  There were many appearances for Dorothy that autumn for Sheridan wished to get her known to audiences as quickly as possible.

  He need not have been concerned. Audiences had taken her to their hearts. Her daintiness, her extreme femininity, which was accentuated by her breeches parts, delighted them. They had begun to associate Dorothy Jordan with laughter.

  Mrs Siddons, as her confinement grew nearer and nearer, ground her teeth with annoyance. Much as she wanted the child and her children meant more to her than her ineffectual William, she deplored the ill timing of the child’s arrival. ‘A little later, William,’ she declared, ‘and I could most certainly have put the Jordan back where she belonged.’

  William agreed but secretly thought with everyone else that the Jordan had come to stay and there was something likeable about her friendly attitude which was completely lacking in Sarah’s. Loyally he supposed that actors and actresses should be grateful for the opportunity of working with Sarah and audiences of the chance to see her, but even apart from the usual theatrical jealousies, Dorothy Jordan did seem to be more liked than Sarah by both the company and management.