Goddess of the Green Room: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘There should be no delay about a matter like this,’ said the Duke. ‘Bring them to my apartments at St James’s Palace tomorrow morning.’ He smiled. ‘You will be with us there, my love?’

  Dorothy said she certainly would. She was filled with excitement about this great discovery.

  So the next day in the apartments of the Duke of Clarence in St James’s, Mr Samuel Ireland arrived with his son William Henry, and they brought with them a folio inscribed Vortigern and Rowena by William Shakespeare.

  ‘You will observe,’ said William Ireland, ‘that the play is in the style of Shakespeare. I was inclined to think that someone might be playing a hoax, but as soon as I read on… I was convinced.’

  The interview was interrupted by the arrival of the Prince of Wales who had heard the news and wanted to see the discoveries.

  Dorothy had not seen him since his wedding and thought he looked less healthy than he had before. She had heard from William how eagerly he was awaiting the birth of his child and though he hoped for a son, a daughter would do, because it was freedom from his wife that he wanted more than anything; and if she could give birth to a healthy child he need never see her again.

  ‘This is fascinating,’ cried the Prince. He turned to William Ireland. ‘Pray tell me how the trunk was discovered.’

  ‘My father is a writer and engraver, Your Highness. His work took him to Stratford upon Avon, for he is producing a book called Picturesque Views of the Avon and he went there to make his engravings. I accompanied him and there made the acquaintance of an old gentleman whose name I have given my solemn word not to divulge. He showed me this trunk and gave me his permission to bring the papers therein to the notice of the public.’

  The Prince had picked up a document which was signed by William Shakespeare in a handwriting similar to that of the poet. It was sealed in the Elizabethan manner; and the Prince declared the parchment to be that which was used at the time.

  A page came in to say that Mr Sheridan was without and asking leave to come in. He, too, had heard of the play and had come to see it.

  ‘Bring him in,’ said the Prince.

  When Sheridan glanced at the play, he saw that it was very long and written in blank verse in the style of the existing plays; the language was similar, and he decided that forgery or not he would have to have it or Covent Garden would get it and that would be a great calamity. In any case it was so long – he’d have two plays there for the price of one. He declared there and then that he would put on Vortigern and Rowena.

  The whole theatrical world was excited about the discovery and the play went into immediate production with Mrs Jordan in the part of Flavia and John Kemble as Vortigern. At the first rehearsal Sheridan suspected it was a forgery; and as the company ploughed through their turgid lines it became increasingly clear that it had never been written by the Bard of Avon.

  Sheridan considered the position. He had paid a good price for the play. The audience would flock to the theatre to see a new Shakespeare piece. Was he going to let the manager of Covent Garden laugh at him? No. They had been duped; they would feign ignorance of that and see if it were possible to dupe the audience.

  Mrs Siddons failed to arrive for rehearsals. A message came to the theatre that she was indisposed and was so ill that she was afraid she must abandon her part.

  The play was not going well. Dorothy was aware of that. The memory of Nobody was still fresh. Not another night like that, she prayed.

  The actors were cautious. Kemble would doubtless have liked to throw in his part, but as Sarah had already done so, for him to follow in her wake would have proved disastrous.

  The uneasy first night arrived. People waited in the streets for hours, all determined to get in to judge Vortigern and Rowena and the house was more than crowded; it was overflowing; many of those who usually went to the pit, finding it full, bought boxes; and discovering them to be already filled climbed down into the pit. Quarrels ensued over the possession of seats. It was a noisy, eager and excited audience when the curtain was raised on the first act.

  The theatre audience knew its Shakespeare and did not take long to recognize the fraud. Lines of other Shakespearean plays were recognized with shouts of derision.

  ‘Be quiet!’ cried a man in one of the boxes who was obviously under the influence of drink. ‘Don’t you know you are insulting Shakespeare.’

  There were howls of derision. Someone threw an orange at the man in the box and very soon he had to duck down to dodge a shower of them.

  Kemble went on reciting his lines without fire, without enthusiasm or belief, while the audience laughed, jeered and hissed. Dorothy came forward and tried to make herself heard.

  ‘Take it off!’ screamed the audience. ‘It’s a miserable fraud!’

  ‘Fraud! Fraud! Fraud!’ chanted the audience. ‘Shakespeare – my foot.’

  Back-stage William Ireland was almost fainting with fear.

  ‘Cheer up,’ said Dorothy. ‘They are sometimes like this.’

  ‘Little Pickle!’ cried the audience. ‘We want Pickle.’

  It was as bad as Nobody; and she could never face such audiences with the nonchalance some could. She felt sick and ill and had to keep running off stage to prevent herself retching.

  There was pandemonium; and when the curtain went down on Vortigern and Rowena it was never to rise again on that play.

  Dorothy could not help feeling sorry for the frightened boy she found cowering in the Green Room. He dared not go home to his father’s house; he dared not go into the streets. He feared the people would tear him to pieces for what he had done.

  He looked so young – not much older than Fanny – and Dorothy said he could have a night’s shelter in her house in Somerset Street and the next morning he would have to disappear and hide himself where no one could find him.

  He slipped out of the theatre and when Dorothy returned home she found him already there.

  ‘You’d better tell me all about it,’ she said. ‘Why did you believe you could get away with such a thing?’

  ‘It seemed as if I would. My father believed me. Everybody believed me at first. Mr Sheridan bought the play.’

  ‘But did you really think you could hoodwink us all?’

  ‘People like what they think they ought to like,’ said young William stubbornly. ‘They go to see Shakespeare and sometimes sleep through the performance, but they feel some merit because they’ve been to something good. Then they will go to a farce and laugh themselves hoarse and apologize for it.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Dorothy.

  ‘I wanted to show that it was Shakespeare’s name they admired as much as his plays.’

  Dorothy was thinking of what William had said about the King who when he went to the theatre invariably saw Shakespeare because that was what the people expected, but secretly he thought it was ‘sad stuff’.

  ‘Tell me how you did it,’ she asked. ‘I suppose we could say it was a clever hoax.’

  ‘My father was a great admirer of Shakespeare and I wanted to give him a gift. There was nothing he would like so much as a relic of Shakespeare whom he admires more than any man. I had nothing, so I forged a document and put a seal on it from an old one. I work in a lawyer’s office and I can get old parchments and seals easily – and I made up this Shakespeare relic and gave it to him. He went wild with delight. And I thought if I could produce a document like that why not a Shakespeare play? So I wrote the play on paper I got from the office… and I knew it was the right sort because we have documents in the safes going back two hundred years and more. Then I made up this story about the trunk and everyone was so excited. I almost believed it was true myself.’

  ‘And now you are heartily wishing that you had not been so foolish.’

  ‘It didn’t prove what I wanted to prove.’

  Dorothy looked at him sadly. Poor boy. She did not know what action would be taken against him. Fraud such as this was surely criminal; but Sheridan might
not take action because he was going to look rather foolish if he did, and the last thing Sheridan the politician must do – even if the theatre manager did not mind – was to look foolish.

  She told the boy this to comfort him. And he went on to tell her how he hated being a lawyer’s clerk; how he longed to be a writer. He had read about Thomas Chatterton the poet who had taken his own life at a very early age. Why? Because he was not appreciated. What chance had people to prove their ability? It was only after they were dead that they were appreciated.

  ‘And so what you wanted to do was to prove that it was not quality which won approval; that the public likes what it is told to like. Then I would say that you have learned a valuable lesson tonight. If you want the appreciation that is given to Shakespeare you must produce work like his.’

  ‘Why are you so kind to me, Mrs Jordan? Why do you shelter me here?’

  ‘Perhaps because you are young, and it is hard for the young. Perhaps because I have a daughter who is headstrong like you and wayward and envious… Who knows?’ She yawned. ‘It has been a tiring night. When you are rested I should leave this house. Go out of Town for a while and then when the affair is forgotten, which it soon will be, go back to your father’s house, confess everything and be a good lawyer.’

  ‘I shall never forget your kindness to me, Mrs Jordan.’

  But she laughed wearily and said she was going to bed.

  The next morning young William Ireland had left and she never saw him again.

  An important birth

  AS THE SUMMER passed into autumn everyone was eagerly awaiting the birth of a child to the Princess of Wales, but none more eagerly than the Prince. In his anxiety he was often at Petersham Lodge and would pace up and down in a state of the most desperate tension.

  ‘She must succeed, William,’ he would cry. ‘I do not know what I shall do if this fails. I cannot go near her again, and yet they will insist. Oh, how fortunate you are! You don’t know how fortunate. No one could who had not had to marry that… monster.’

  He played with little George, his namesake. The child was excited by colourful Uncle George who had no objection to being climbed over and who answered the childish prattle of his nephew with an amused good temper.

  ‘The Prince loves children,’ said Dorothy to William. ‘He will be much happier when the child is born – not only because he so badly needs an heir, but because he will have a child of his own.’

  A startling event occurred that November.

  The King was on his way to open Parliament and the people lined the streets to see his carriage pass. It was not exactly a loyal crowd for many had gathered there to protest about conditions in the country and to remind the King that wages were too low, the price of bread too high. The King might be parsimonious in his household but he had the inevitable debts which had to be met through taxation. The Prince of Wales was notoriously extravagant. The amount of his debts which had been disclosed just before his marriage had shocked everyone deeply.

  There was too much high living on one side; too much poverty on the other. The tragedy across the Channel was too close to be ignored. It was never far from the King’s mind and he could not help wondering how far it was from his people’s.

  There were shouts of ‘Down with Kings’ as the King’s coach trundled along. He made no sign of having heard. He had never been lacking in courage and at the time of the Gordon Riots had appeared among the people in person and had himself taken the bold action which had quelled that mob violence. King George would always do his duty. His trouble was that he rarely knew what it was.

  As the carriage passed an empty house a shot was fired. It missed the carriage but the King was aware of it.

  He continued to sit upright, looking neither to the right nor the left.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ said his equerry who was riding with him in the coach, ‘do you think we should turn back?’

  ‘What for, eh?’ asked the King. ‘Because of a shot. Why, if my time has come then it has come. God disposes of all things and I trust Him to save my life. If he does not wish it to be saved then it will not be.’

  His calm was an example to all and he went on to Parliament, performed the ceremony as though nothing had happened to disturb him and started on the journey back.

  This was even more stormy. Stones were thrown at the royal carriage, one of which caught the King on the arm. A bullet whizzed past his ear and buried itself in the upholstery of the coach.

  The King glanced at it.

  ‘A few inches nearer,’ he said, ‘and that would have been the end of George III.’

  When he returned to St James’s, it was to find the Queen and her daughters in a state of agitation. News that the King had been shot had reached them and they had expected to see him carried home.

  ‘You see me unharmed,’ he said. ‘It was not God’s will that I should die yet.’

  The Queen sent for William and when he arrived embraced him without much warmth. There was nothing unusual in that. The Queen had little affection for any of her children except the Prince of Wales; and although she insisted on spending a great deal of time in the company of her daughters it was because she liked to have them in constant attendance.

  She was critical of William. William had to some measure escaped from the family. He was living a non-royal existence in that house of his at Petersham; and no one would guess that he was one of the King’s sons. He seemed to be perfectly content to live this life, hardly ever came to court unless summoned and behaved like a simple country gentleman.

  It was due to that actress, thought the Queen – a connection which, as his mother and Queen of England, she deplored.

  ‘You have heard, William, that His Majesty suffered an unfortunate experience on his way back after opening Parliament?’

  ‘Yes. Everyone is talking about it. I trust His Majesty is not suffering from the shock.’

  ‘His Majesty will always do his duty and his duty in this case is to ignore the action of a maniac. I wish every member of the family were as conscious of his duty.’

  ‘Oh, I think we all are, Mamma, when the occasion arises.’

  ‘I am glad to hear you say so, for it could very well arise… for you!’

  William looked uneasy.

  ‘Yes,’ she went on. ‘If your father had been killed by that bullet…’

  ‘God forbid!’ cried William.

  ‘Indeed yes. It could have been disastrous… and even now… in your father’s state of health…’

  ‘He is ill?’

  ‘Come, William, let us be frank within the family. Your father’s derangement six years ago gave us all great cause for anxiety. And you must know, as we all do, that he has never been the same since. It could happen again… and then…’

  William was growing worried. It was a subject to which his mother had never referred before. There was some purpose behind this.

  ‘This child should soon be with us. If all goes well I shall be greatly relieved. If not…’

  ‘But surely, Mamma, all is well. I heard excellent reports of Caroline’s health.’

  ‘Child-bearing is always uncertain. I pray that Caroline will be delivered of a healthy boy… or girl. But if anything should go wrong…’

  ‘Please don’t mention it.’

  ‘You are a superstitious sailor! Don’t be foolish, William. We have to face facts. If something should go wrong, George will never live with her again. I can’t say I blame him. The creature is… impossible. Mad, I think. There cannot have been a Princess in the whole of Europe less suited to your brother. If he had listened to me… But it is too late now. He says he has done his painful duty. If this attempt fails there will never be another. And it would be heartless to expect it of him.’

  ‘Perhaps he will change his mind.’

  The Queen’s burst of laughter was far from mirthful.

  ‘Frederick’s wife is barren and he won’t live with her. I wanted to remind you that you are the next i
n line. If Caroline fails, you will have to do your duty, William.’

  ‘I have other brothers…’

  ‘You are the next in seniority.’

  ‘I am sure one of the others…’

  ‘Why do you think you get a pension from the State, my son, if it is not for services which will be demanded of you? Your private life is a matter for scandal. Is there not one of you who can live decently?’

  William flushed hotly. ‘I can assure you that I do that with my family.’

  ‘Your family! An actress who was never married but had children before you took up with her. Bastard children!’

  ‘Your Majesty, I must ask you to refrain from speaking of this lady in this way.’

  ‘Sentimental as well as superstitious. Very well, William. Be sentimental. Be superstitious – as long as you remember that if it is necessary you will be obliged to do your duty. That is really all I have to say to you.’

  ‘I should like to see my father before I leave.’

  ‘What? To ask him if it is necessary to pension off your mistress and seek a suitable bride?’

  ‘To ask after his health.’

  ‘He is not well enough to see you.’

  ‘I thought you said that he had suffered no ill effects from the shooting.’

  ‘My dear William, he is often unwell. These bouts appear at all times. I know my duty. And that is to preserve him from the anxiety the very sight of his sons sometimes arouses in him. No, William. You cannot see the King. But go away and think of what I have said. If Caroline fails to produce an heir to the throne you will have to consider your position very carefully.’

  William bowed abruptly and left her.

  Dorothy noticed that he was worried. She knew that he had been to see the Queen and she guessed that there had been some criticism of their relationship.

  ‘You had better tell me what it is, William,’ she said. ‘It concerns us, doesn’t it?’

  He nodded glumly.

  ‘The Queen is urging you to break off our relationship?’

  ‘It is not quite that. She doesn’t approve, of course. She merely pointed out my duty to me. Even if Caroline miscarries George has sworn he won’t go near her again. Nothing will induce him to. There will be no hope of an heir. And it is the same with Frederick. He refuses to live with his wife. My mother pointed out that the country needs an heir to the throne… and there can’t be more delay. She says that I…’