by Steven Neil
‘I know all the parts,’ she says.
It is not the ideal role for her. She is too young for Constance. However, she brings an unexpected vibrancy and guile to the role and draws excellent reviews. The play’s run is extended and the “house full” signs go up. Offers of more parts come in. The producer finds her an agent: Donald Treves. Everything moves quickly.
‘We shall have to find a stage name for you,’ says Treves. ‘Elizabeth Harryet Howard, perhaps. Even better, what about Harriet Howard? It has a ring to it, does it not? Wonderfully alliterative. And, of course, Howard is so aristocratic. It will do no harm.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Trust me. You will not go wrong. We’ll leave it until the end of the run here. Next year will see a new actress take London by storm.’
***
Tom Olliver meets Jem Mason one day at Bedford. They walk the new layout of the steeplechase course. They come to two options: a tall, black, five-bar gate and a bullfinch hedge, set about with thorns. Tom asks Jem whether he will have the gate or the hedge.
‘I’ll be hanged if I’m going to scratch my face, Tom. I’m going to the opera tonight with Eliza. I shall have the gate, forty miles an hour and defy any man in England to follow me,’ he says. He is as good as his word.
After the racing, they talk. They are both young jockeys making their way in a competitive world.
‘I’ve moved up to town,’ Jem says. ‘Contacts is what racing is all about now.’
‘I don’t suppose Eliza has anything to do with it?’
‘That’s a bonus. I’m working on it. As you well know, I’m not the only one showing an interest.’
‘I thought you liked to play the field. No ties.’
‘She’s worth more than all the others put together. There’s no one like her.’
***
One evening, late in December, Louis Napoleon visits the theatre at Haymarket. He is quite captivated by one of the actresses he sees. His eyes are fixed on her throughout the performance. He looks through the programme for a name: Elizabeth Harryet.
‘Have that girl sent to my rooms,’ he whispers to Fialin at the end of the final act. He is used to getting his way. Fialin is usually very persuasive.
Five
Perfect Match
London and Liverpool, England
1839
London Weekly Chronicle,
Saturday 23rd February 1839
JULIET ENTRANCES
This week, we were fortunate enough to see the arrival of a startling new talent on the London stage in Mr Macready’s new production of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, at the Sadler’s Wells Theatre, which commanded an exceedingly large audience.
Miss Harriet Howard shone as Juliet and we forecast an illustrious future ahead of her. Seldom have we seen such a combination of vivacity and grace. She is young and charming and altogether presents a most elegant appearance. She was entirely believable as the innocent, star-struck lover of Romeo, but it was the poise and style of the performance that so captivated the audience. The play was well performed throughout and we must pick out for special mention Mr Samuel Phelps, for his sympathetic and finely executed portrayal of Romeo, and Mr Robert Walden, for a flamboyant interpretation of Mercutio. In addition, we should say that we were much pleased with the simple and judicious acting of Miss Kitty Hopkins as Nurse. Similarly, Mr James Roper, as Tybalt, certainly gained a laurel, to which we hope he will have many additions.
The theatre has recently undergone an extensive renovation and this new production of the play was beautifully mounted, having had the advantage, accordingly, of new scenery and decoration.
At the end of the play, the crowd made their affection known and the whole cast was warmly applauded by a house equally overflowing in enthusiasm and numbers. Miss Howard excited extraordinary adulation and it was five curtain calls before her admirers would let her go. Even then, the cheers rang on into the night. If you can find the means to obtain a ticket, we urge you to go and see this wonderful play, performed with much effect, for yourself. It is indubitably destined to be a decided, indeed a remarkable, success.
***
Liverpool Chronicle, Wednesday 27th February 1839
GRAND LIVERPOOL STEEPLECHASE
Yesterday saw the running of the Grand Liverpool Steeplechase and what a fine race it turned out to be. A sweepstake of twenty sovereigns each, five sovereigns forfeit and one hundred sovereigns added, for gentleman riders, each to carry twelve stone over four miles and a few hundred yards of the new Aintree racecourse, it lays claim to being the most prestigious steeplechase of the racing calendar.
The race was started promptly at three o’clock. All the horses ran away quickly, with Conrad ridden by Captain Becher and Daxon ridden by Mr Ferguson leading the way. The race went on through fields, where the horses encountered deep ditches and high banks. More imposing fences followed and no problems were seen until a rough, high, jagged fence, coupled with a six-foot wide brook, claimed the first victim. Captain Becher was first at the fence, but his horse Conrad hit the top and rolled over into the brook, throwing his rider off. Lottery and Mr Mason cleared the fence along with Seventy Four, ridden by Mr Olliver and The Nun, ridden by Mr Allen McDonough and these three led the field off into the country.
Captain Becher remounted and set off again after the main group. Soon, they were at a high hedge bank with rails and another water ditch, which was six feet lower than the take off. By this point, Captain Becher was back at the head of the field. The captain was again to be unlucky, when Conrad crashed through the fence, throwing him into the ditch and then gave him the indignity of rolling over him and running away. Rust and Mr William McDonough was next at the obstacle and he also fell but remounted.
The race continued and the next obstacle to be jumped was a fence where the landing side was higher by four feet in some places, but this did not catch out so many. The race continued on with a series of easier fences and back to the straight towards the wall. At this obstacle, Barkston and Mr Wilmot was in front, but simply refused to jump at the first attempt and was passed by Lottery, who jumped the wall fluently, as did The Nun and Paulina, with Mr Martin. Barkston was given a second chance and this time cleared the fence from a standstill. Out on the second circuit, the remaining runners negotiated the course without further major incident, although some of the stragglers fell or were unseated.
As the leading horses turned into the home straight, there was a line of hurdles to be jumped before the run in and these were crossed with ease. Lottery, who was still full of running, won the race by three lengths from Seventy Four, who was three lengths in front of Paulina and True Blue. This was a very encouraging success for owner Mr John Elmore and trainer Mr George Dockeray from Epsom. We also saw the emergence of young James (Jem) Mason, as a jockey of the first rank.
***
‘I’ll have you back in London by lunchtime tomorrow, Jem. Are you game?’ says Tom Olliver. ‘We catch the last train from Liverpool to Manchester, change trains at Newton Junction onto the Grand Junction Railway and hitch the overnight mail train to Birmingham. I’ll leave you there at Curzon Street. I’m riding at Stratford. You walk across the platform and jump on the train into Euston, arriving early afternoon.’
‘I can barely make sense of it. Will it work?’
‘Nothing ventured…’
***
The green and gold liveried steam engine of the London and Birmingham railway, pulling twenty carriages, wheezes into Euston at exactly thirty-two minutes past one in the afternoon. Jem is jolted awake. He has been dozing and dreaming all the way down from Birmingham, with a brief stop to change engines at Wolverton, and he feels remarkably refreshed after all the travelling. Tom was as good as his word and the afternoon awaits. London is warm in the spring sun and Jem decides a stroll is in order
to shake off the stiffness of the journey. He looks over his shoulder at the Grand Arch as he walks into Drummond Street and sees two doxies across the road, eying him up and down and whispering to each other. The bolder of the two approaches him.
‘First of the day to the fine sporting gentleman. No charge for you, my lovely. No funny business, mind.’ she says, her eyes darting towards the two race whips sticking out of the end of Jem’s bag.
‘That’s very kind of you, but I’ve other plans today.’
‘There’s two of us, if you like,’ she says, gesturing to her friend. ‘What do you say?’
‘I say take the afternoon off and buy yourselves some lunch on me.’ He tosses her a coin, winks at them both and walks on.
He leaves Drummond Street, crosses Euston Road and strides along Warren Street. The street vendors call out to him and he stops to talk to some of the hansom cab drivers. Jem is well known about town and word has already reached London about the previous day’s success. He turns into Cleveland Street and then south into Great Titchfield Street. His pace quickens and by the time he reaches Oxford Street, he is running.
When he enters the door at number 106, Eliza has heard the key in the lock. She leaps at him and tears at his clothes. They don’t reach the bedchamber. They lie together for a long time, their limbs entangled. When he wakes, he nuzzles at her neck and strokes her stomach, but she pulls away. There is a flounce and a furrowed brow, which tells him that something is brewing. She wraps a blanket around herself and pulls her knees up to her chest.
‘We are alright together, you and me, Jem? Aren’t we?’ she begins.
‘Of course we are. Why do you ask?’
‘I worry that this won’t last. We have everything. We are both doing well.’
‘Lucky us.’
‘You always make a joke of things, Jem. As if you can’t be serious. You won’t talk about feelings, but it’s important to me. I always tell the truth, I…’
‘Is that because it’s easier to remember?’
‘There you are, doing it again. I want to know where we are; how you feel about me.’
‘We are together; we are doing well, as you say. Life is good. You and I are different. I don’t want to narrate my life, I just want to live it. You are an actress. A good one. You live your life in words. I live in action. I’m only as good as my last ride. Every ride is a risk.’
‘We are not so different. I am only as good as my last performance. There are other actresses. I am talking about commitment. Action and words, if you like. Am I another affair, like all the other girls, or is this something more substantial? I need to know.’
‘I don’t know how to answer you. We are both young. You, especially. How can you talk about commitment? You hardly know yourself.’
‘If there is one person I know, it is myself. I know what I want. My only problem is finding out whether you want the same.’
‘Alright, let’s talk about it. Tell me exactly what you want. Everything. Then, I’ll tell you what I want. And I’ll tell the truth. I won’t make jokes. But then what? What will we have achieved? It’s just dreams. No one knows what is round the corner. I might break my neck. You might get stage fright or forget your lines.’
‘How did you get to where you are now, Jem?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, how did you become the best young jockey riding today? Better than McDonough. Better than Pope. Some say you will be the best of all. Better even than Tom Olliver. Did that just happen? Was it just luck? I’ll tell you, Jem. It happened because at some point, you said: “I want to be the best.” Maybe you didn’t say it out loud. Maybe you just thought it in your head. But, at some point, you had that ambition. It’s not just dreams. It’s the way we start to achieve things.’
‘You have thought this through, haven’t you? But what if I had no talent? Could I still be the best?’
‘Of course not. But it distinguishes you. There are plenty with talent, but you have something extra. It’s ambition that counts. I see it everywhere. I don’t want to live in someone else’s dream. I want to live in mine. And yours. I want us to build a dream together and live in it together. Is that hard to understand? That is what I mean when I talk about commitment. I mean describing how we want things to be, reaching an agreement and going after it.’
‘Alright. You first.’
She gathers herself and stands up, as if she has stepped forward, centre stage, to deliver a soliloquy.
‘I want to be independent. I want to be my own woman. I want to be the best actress on the London stage. I want people to say, “There goes Harriet Howard. She is a wonderful actress.” I want to have enough money to live a comfortable life. I want to look after my parents and make them proud of me. I want to share my life with someone who I love and admire. One day, I want to have children. I want Jem Mason.’
‘By the Lord, Eliza. You make me ashamed. From now on, we’ll do it together. You and me. Jem and Eliza. Eliza and Jem.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘Now you.’
‘Now me?’
‘What do you really want?’
He considers his reply. He lights up a cigar. ‘I never want anyone to look down on me. I learned that from my father. He is the best horse dealer in the country. He finds the best horses. If a horse doesn’t suit, he takes it back for another one. If a horse is found to have a problem, he gives the money back. He is honest. He can be trusted. He is a fine man; the best of men. But people still talk down to him. He is a tradesman, a dealer. They are gentlemen, toffs. I won’t ever have that. I will be the equal of any man alive. Do you understand that?’
‘I do. Is there any room in that world for an accomplice? Someone who feels the same?’
Six
In the Stars
London and Gravesend, England
Boulogne and Ham, France
1840
Dairy Farm Cottage
Shepherd Lane
Aylsham
My dear Eliza
It is all very well being an actress, but of course no good will come of it. As your father says, actresses are never more than two steps from the gutter. As for the rumours we hear about you and Jem Mason, it shocks me to think you would bring such shame on your poor dear parents in this way. It really is making your father most unwell with the worry of it all. The best thing would be for you to come home and settle down among your own kind, rather than putting on fancy London airs.
There are many suitable young farmers here in Norfolk and I’m sure a match could still be made for you, despite the sinful acts you are involving yourself in. We are a long way from town here and news travels slowly. Our new neighbours, the Waleses, have two fine sons and although they would not be the brightest apples on the tree they will inherit good acreage and one of them would probably be grateful to have a girl with your looks, even with your reputation.
By the by, this silly nonsense about you changing your name is most upsetting, but I can see, in some ways, it is probably for the best if you are set on living a life of debauchery.
Please let us know your intentions.
Mama
***
106 Oxford Street
London
Dearest Mama
Thank you very much for your letter. I am so sorry to hear about dear Papa. I hope you won’t disown me. I am working hard to make a success of my acting and I want to make you proud of me. I’m determined to follow my dreams, here in London. I have an agent now and he is helping me get the right parts. I hope you will come up to town and see me on the stage one day soon.
Please don’t fret about Jem Mason. He is the best of men and very ill treated by the newspapers, who thrive on made-up stories.
God bless you.
&nb
sp; Your loving daughter.
Eliza
***
Harriet Howard’s star is in the ascendant. She determines that she will be a serious, dramatic actress. Her agent sends a selection of her reviews to London theatre producers and directors. Within days, the offers come in. If the play is written by William Shakespeare, she takes it. Her work rate astonishes those around her. She throws herself into every part and the results speak for themselves. Her Miranda is judged “luminescent”, her Desdemona “spine-tingling” and her Cleopatra “captivating”. Treves makes sure it is her name at the top of the bill postings and that she is the best-paid member of the cast.
‘After all,’ he says, ‘she is the one they are coming to see.’
***
Harriet’s success is matched by Jem Mason, who rides no end of winners. He and Tom Olliver are among the first of the group called “professional” riders. They earn their living riding horses. Up until the beginning of the century, all jockeys riding in steeplechases are gentleman-riders – that is, they are riding their own or their family’s horses. But the gamblers won’t wear incompetent amateurs. It isn’t sufficient to be a gentleman. The gentleman must ride well, too. It is soon realised, of course, that it is easier to turn a great rider into a gentleman than it is to turn a gentleman into a great rider. As one sage commentator puts it, “You can’t put in what God’s left out.”
“Get Mason” is the familiar shout, when owners are discussing who should ride their horses.
Owners and gamblers alike come to know that not all of the jockeys are trying to win all of the time. There is as much money made stopping horses as winning races, as the stakes in gambling get higher and higher. Jem Mason won’t ever do that.