Daughters of England Read online

  Those first weeks in London are like a hazy dream to me now. The big city of which I had thought so often in the old days was unlike anything I had ever imagined. The streets, which were full of bustle and noise, amazed me. I was entranced by the tradesmen and -women who paraded the streets, shouting of their wares, from hot pies to pins, describing the latest executions and scandals which were chronicled in the sheets of paper they flourished. These tradespeople, the beggars, the fine gallants and those aping them: they all jostled each other in those streets. I liked to see the grand ladies and gentlemen riding in their carriages, elaborately dressed, the men no less than the women, their wigs—masses of luxuriant curls—showing under their feather-decked hats.

  Maggie commented that it was better than it had been in the old days when, if a girl had a pretty face, she had to keep it out of sight as much as possible, though now they had all gone to the opposite extreme and wanted to show more than their faces.

  “It’s always the way,” she added. “Push people back too far and they’ll come prancing too far forward as soon as they get the chance.”

  I was fascinated, but most of all, of course, by the theater. As I sat in that wooden building, in the pit, which was far from comfortable and indeed rather draughty, for there was no heating save that which came from the press of people—and that could make it too hot—and as I looked up at the glazed cupola and watched the people around me shouting to each other, gazing up to the boxes filling with fine ladies and gentlemen who looked down with disdain on those in the cheap seats, I knew that I had been right to come. And when the play began, that was utter enchantment.

  In the beginning, the prospect of how I was going to find my way on to the stage had not yet struck me, for in those first weeks of settling in, there were so many new experiences that I found it difficult to absorb them all.

  Within a few weeks of our return, Kitty was offered a part in Rule a Wife and Have a Wife.

  Maggie Mead, from the first, had treated me as though I was no stranger to her—just another member of her household to be kept in order.

  She told me: “Small wonder Kit got the part. People come to see her, not the play. That’s how it is, Sarah. You’ll learn. Scandal of a sort. The girl who left a lord for the stage. See what I mean?”

  “How do they know?”

  “The Lord have mercy on you! Sarah, you’re a babe in arms in this world of ours. They know everything that goes on every minute of the day, these people. They live in the big city, do they not? They’re alive to it all. They would tell you whom the King slept with last night if you asked them.”

  “I would not dream of asking any such thing!” I said in horror, which made her laugh.

  “You’ll soon be just like the rest of us, dearie. It will not take much time, I’ll swear. The fact is that Kitty got the part because Charles Hart knew that she would bring them in. And she has. I’ll swear to you that half the people in the theater tonight have come to see Kitty, the girl who gave up a lord for the stage.”

  I realized she was right, as she always was.

  During those first weeks, Maggie, having taken me under her wing, gave special attention to me. She was a woman to make quick decisions and she had taken a liking to me. This was how it must have been with Kitty. But she considered that my youth and innocence needed special care. I did not realize then how fortunate I was in this.

  She introduced me to London. She took me shopping with her and I was able to listen to her bargaining with the stall-holders. She was expert at making a bargain and at the heart of this was a certain bantering belligerence.

  “Never let people get the better of you,” she advised. “Go in and fight them. But never go into battle if you think you are going to lose. That’s no good. You’ll falter and fail at the next one you undertake.”

  It was indeed like a battle, and I never saw her beaten, yet she always parted with her opponents on the best of terms. They clearly had a great respect for her.

  She talked to me a great deal about the theater. She loved it, but she had the sense to know that she would never have been a great actress.

  “I hadn’t the figure nor the face for it,” she said sadly. “It’s no good having what is necessary in parts. You’ve got to have it all. Mind you, all actresses don’t have to be beautiful. Some are so good at the game that they can make you think they are. Well, I’d never have been good enough for that and time was against me. I lived at the wrong time. All that down on your knees every few minutes, reminding yourself how humble you are…miserable sinner and so on…never daring to laugh, for that was something that was going to send you straight to Hell when your time came. I was in my prime when the Puritans closed the theaters and all that was going on, and that was not the life for me.

  “Then the King came back, God bless him. But why in the name of all that is holy did he not come back ten years before…or better still, never go at all? That would have suited Mistress Maggie Mead very well, that would. But alas, the good times came too late for her.”

  One day Kitty came home from the theater and said: “The King is coming to the theater on Friday. Many from the court will be there. The Queen will be coming with him, they say, so it will be a really formal occasion.”

  “To see you!” cried Maggie.

  “No. They are putting on The Humorous Lieutenant for him—a special performance. There’s no part for me in that.”

  “That Beaumont and Fletcher piece!” said Maggie in disgust. “They could have chosen something better.”

  “The play will be of small account. The theater will be full to overflowing.”

  She exchanged glances with Maggie and they both looked at me.

  “Then we should add to the overflow,” said Maggie. “What think you? It will be an opportunity for our girl to see His Majesty.”

  “Do you really mean that we shall be there?” I gasped.

  “You could scarcely see him if you were not,” retorted Maggie.

  “So you want to go, do you?” Kitty asked me.

  “Of course she wants to go,” Maggie said. “And if she didn’t I’d make sure she went all the same.”

  We were all laughing, and Kitty asked Maggie if she remembered the occasion when they had seen the newly married Queen in the King’s Theatre with the King, and Lady Castlemaine had been there, scowling at the royal pair all the time.

  “It was something I shall not forget in a hurry,” said Maggie. “Everyone was waiting for trouble to start. Lady Castlemaine was capable of anything, and she was furious that the King should pay more attention to the Queen than to herself…even though it was only done for form. And the poor little Queen did not know anything about it. That was before she discovered her ladyship’s position in the royal household.”

  They went on recalling little incidents from that occasion, and laughing immoderately at what seemed to me far from a laughing matter…especially for the Queen.

  It was something I shall always remember: my first glimpse of the King and Queen. Excitement was great in the theater that night. It was full. I sat tightly wedged between Maggie and Kitty. We had come early to make sure of our seats, and I was glad of that when I heard the angry shouting from outside from those who had been unable to get in.

  Everyone kept glancing up at the royal box, as yet unoccupied.

  Then the nobility started to arrive, and there was a buzz of excitement when some notable figure appeared.

  Maggie nudged me. “That’s my Lord Rochester. Just look at him! He’s one to be wary of. The greatest rake at court, and that says a good deal.” She put her head close to mine. “I’ll tell you more of him at some time. And look who’s with him. The Duke of Buckingham himself! And there’s Sedley and Savile…the wildest fellows in the land. Any girl would be wise to keep clear of them, what say you, Kit?”

  “I should say that, as usual, Mag, you are right.”

  Now a hush had fallen over the company, for the King was coming into the theater.r />
  My eyes, in common with everyone else’s, turned to the royal box. The King had entered. So tall was he that he dwarfed most of those near him: he was dark-skinned and his features were heavy; he might have looked almost saturnine but for the smile which lit up his face with an indescribable charm. There was an innate grace about him and a dignity which was so natural that it was almost disarming. I could see in that first glance why he had effortlessly won the people’s affections.

  “Long live the King!” cried someone; and there was a burst of applause.

  Beside him was the Queen. She seemed very small and rather plain, though she smiled charmingly, and the King had taken her hand as though to remind her—and us—that the loyal greeting was for her as well as for himself.

  He sat down and just at that moment there was a certain bustle in the theater. Someone else had arrived.

  All eyes were on the newcomer. He was young; I imagine not much older than I was. With him was a man a few years older. He was most elegantly dressed and in a manner which called attention to his importance. He lifted his face to the royal box. The King was looking straight at him. The young man gave an elaborate bow and the King lifted his hand in acknowledgment and smiled.

  “Who is he?” I asked.

  “Mr. James Scott or Crofts or Fitzroy some short time since, and now if you please Baron Tyndale, Earl of Doncaster and Duke of Monmouth,” Maggie said. “The airs and graces indeed! And His Majesty looks on and smiles. Well, he’s a handsome boy and proclaims himself the King’s own son. Nor does His Majesty deny the charge.”

  This was indeed an exciting night.

  And then, among the crowd, I saw a face I recognized. The young Duke of Monmouth had turned and spoken to a tall, dark man. They laughed together. I was taken aback, for I had recognized the man at once. He was Lord Rosslyn.

  I said to Kitty: “Did you see? Was that not Lord Rosslyn who was at Willerton when we did the play?”

  “It was indeed,” she said. “I believe his lordship spends a great deal of time at court.”

  The play had started. Few in the theater were much interested in it. All eyes kept straying to the royal box.

  After that visit to the theater I was all eagerness to hear about the people I had seen. Kitty and I spent a great deal of time together; she was learning a new part and I was often called upon to rehearse with her. This I enjoyed. It brought back vividly my first experiences at Willerton. It was the next best thing to acting on a stage.

  I was often Maggie’s companion too.

  I said to her one day: “Maggie, do you think I shall ever have a part? Please tell me the truth.”

  “You must not be so impatient,” she said. “Parts do not lie like stones by the wayside to be picked up when needed. Kitty does her best. She watches for you all the time. It will come.” She looked at me intently. “You want this with all your heart, do you not? You must be watchful. Some might offer you a part and want payment. There are such men. Indeed, they abound. No, my child, not that way.”

  “I do not know what you mean.”

  “Then you will understand. Many have climbed by way of the bed, my dear, but I would not have that for you. You have talent. There is some respect for those who do not resort to such ways. Kitty says you have enough talent without that. You shall not do it that way.”

  “Is there another way?” I asked anxiously.

  She looked at me sharply. “Some have found it, and if some, why not others? It is the only way for you. All you need is one chance. It will come, I know.”

  “It seems so long.”

  “I tell you, you are impatient. It is luck you need, that is all. You must be there…ready to snatch it when it comes. That is the way to live. Be patient. You are young. There is time ahead. Kitty and I want you to proceed with dignity. Do you understand?”

  “You have been good to me.”

  “And you do not wish you had not left your home that night?”

  “I have never felt that.”

  “Then pray God you never will.”

  Then she started to tell me about her own life in that Puritan household where she had been brought up. I could share with her the sensation of stifling restrictions such as my mother had imposed on ours, and I knew that as I grew older I should have found them intolerable.

  No. I had no regrets, even though my dreams of startling the theatrical world had considerably modified. I was growing more fond than ever of my new life; and Kitty and Maggie were closer to me than any people I had ever known.

  The theater was my goal and although so far I had only glimpsed it from afar, one day it would dominate my life.

  Maggie talked a great deal about the theater and the happiness which the return of the King had brought to her and many others.

  “It was a glorious day,” she said, “that twenty-ninth of May, his birthday. He was thirty years of age then, and think of all those years when he had been wandering about the Continent, a homeless exile and the King of England! What a welcome they gave him, and no wonder! There was the cavalry and soldiers on foot, their swords shining in the sunlight, and people shouting their joy; there were flowers on the path; they had cloth of gold hung from the windows and there was wine flowing from the fountains! It was a delight to see, I can tell you! There were the noble lords in their finery which had been hidden away all those years, bells ringing, people cheering. Oh, there never was such a day! I stood there watching, thanking God for it and knowing it had come too late for me.”

  “So he came back,” I said, “and one of the first things he did was reopen the theaters.”

  “Ah yes, that’s true. He hadn’t been back more than two or three months when he called Thomas Killigrew and Sir William Davenant to tell them to set about creating two theaters. One was to be the King’s and the other the Duke’s—the Duke’s being that under the patronage of the King’s brother, the Duke of York. Not only did His Majesty command the theaters to be built, he assisted them in every way. I remember seeing the production of Law Against Lovers. It was the old Measure for Measure altered, with the characters of Beatrice and Benedick brought in from another play. It was a sight to see, because the King and his brother the Duke and the Earl of Oxford had given the actors their coronation suits which they were able to play in. That shows how the King feels about the theater. Oh, why did all this have to happen so late! If it had come even ten years before it might have been some use to poor old Maggie Mead.”

  “Maggie,” I said, “I think you are happy as you are.”

  “One thing you learn in life—or should, for some never do—is to take what you can get and make the best of it. I’ve had Kitty to look after and Martha to keep happy and there is little Rose. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for and now I’ve got you, and we are going to see you get that fame and fortune which might have been mine if the King had come home earlier, or better still never gone away.”

  “You love being here, do you not?” I said. “Close to the theater, looking after Kitty. How did you feel when she went off to marry Lord Donnerton?”

  “I thought it could have been good for her. It might have been. Donnerton was a steady sort, and I was glad he was not some young rackety Jack. He was fond of her, too. She’d have been settled for life, and a ladyship too.”

  “What did you think when she left him?”

  “I thought she was being foolish, throwing all that away. But I understood. After all, she was one of us. She had to come back.”

  “Could she not have stayed with him and been on the stage?”

  “She did not think so. Perhaps it was more than just coming back to the stage. Perhaps it was her noble husband from whom she wanted to escape. What shall I say? Kitty would know and I fancy she is not telling. I should have thought she was lucky to get a faithful husband. When I look round at some of these young bucks…”

  “Like those men we saw in the theater?”

  “That was a good assembly, was it not? And all because the King wa
s there. A company of—”

  “Rackety Jacks?” I suggested.

  “There you have said it. Rochester, was it not? Sedley, Savile…you could not find many to match that little bunch.”

  “Does the King not reprimand them?”

  Maggie laughed. “He finds them amusing. Their wit forgives them a great deal in the eyes of the King. Rochester is a particular favorite and one of the King’s closest associates, although he is about seventeen years younger than His Majesty and the King twice his age. That young man is continually up to some villainy. The King reproves him and the next day will be walking with him and they will be seen laughing together. Rochester is a very merry man, and witty in the extreme. But he is a poet of rare ability; he is devoted to literature and there is none that can pen a couplet with his skill. The King seems to find such men irresistible.”

  “I am glad I saw him. He is certainly a most distinguished-looking gentleman. And what of that other who was present—the Duke of Monmouth?”

  “Ah, that’s a different story. There could not be two men less alike than Rochester and Monmouth, and the King—for different reasons—dotes on them both. I doubt whether Monmouth would aspire to being the King’s companion but for one thing. Monmouth is the King’s son.”

  “But…”

  “It is all very irregular, but thus is the life of His amorous Majesty. The King finds the society of ladies irresistible and always has done since he was a very young man traveling from court to court on the Continent of Europe—an exile from his country, waiting for the time when he could regain his throne. And of course there were women, and one of these was a Welsh woman, Lucy Walter. She was the same age as the King. Her home, which was said to be a castle, had been destroyed by Oliver Cromwell’s men. She was about fourteen years of age at that time and she came to London to seek her fortune and to live the best way she could with what she had to offer. She was not noted for her intelligence, but she had a certain bold beauty which might attract some provider. London was not the best hunting ground at such a time, so she crossed to The Hague, where a number of the English nobility had taken refuge—among them the King. He was not her first lover, but he was very taken with her. It was said of her that, in addition to her exceptional good looks, she had a certain cunning, and Charles, being young and already showing signs of his intense need of female company, was entranced.