striking one of the poses which had held an audience spellbound. ‘It will sink to the level of a peep show.’
King was inclined to agree with her; Sheridan shrugged his shoulders.
‘Now you’ve returned, Sarah my dear,’ he said, ‘you can lead them back to tragedy and show them how much they prefer you to little Jordan.’
‘They will not need much leading.’
But they were not to be led. They showed clearly that it was laughter not tears they wanted.
‘If they want laughter,’ said Sarah, ‘I will play some of my lighter roles. I’ll give them Portia. They have always responded to her.’
But brilliant as Sarah was, beautiful as was her face – though her figure had suffered from childbearing and she had always been Junoesque – and magical her voice, she lacked the gamin quality of Dorothy Jordan and it was to Dorothy’s performances that the people were flocking.
Even King must see the importance of bringing in the money and The Romp had become a recognized afterpiece. The Prince of Wales came to see it twice in a week. Mrs Fitzherbert accompanied him and they sat laughing and applauding in their box.
‘The success of The Romp rests almost exclusively on the spirited performance of Mrs Jordan,’ wrote a critic in the Morning Post, ‘and it must be confessed that there has not been seen a more finished acting of its kind. It is not to be doubted therefore that this ludicrous little afterpiece will become a favourite not-withstanding the fastidious taste of certain critics who seemashamed of being so vulgar as to indulge in a hearty laugh.’
No, her power was too great for anyone to break. She had what the people wanted and were ready to pay for and no carping critic, no jealous actress, could stop her.
‘This will show Madam Sarah that she is not the only pebble on the beach nor the only actress in the world,’ commented Grace triumphantly.
Dorothy smiled at her indulgently. How lucky she was to have a mother who cared so passionately for her welfare!
One morning when Dorothy was sleeping late after a late night at the theatre Grace came into her room, her eyes shining with excitement.
She sat on the bed and cried: ‘What do you think? George Inchbald is in London. He arrived last night. You can be sure he’ll be calling today.’
Dorothy yawned. ‘Well, what of that?’
‘What of it! He’s come to see you. You can depend upon it.’
‘Well, I’m not all that eager to see him.’
Grace laughed knowingly. ‘He wouldn’t have come all this way for nothing.’ She was a little arch. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if he has a proposition to make.’
‘I can’t see that he would have any proposition to make to me which I should want to act on. He’s not a theatre manager and what could be better than Drury Lane unless it’s Covent Garden. And talking of Covent Garden I heard that Harris is going to bring Mrs Brown down to play in The Country Girl .’
‘That old hag!’ cried Grace. ‘London would never accept her. She’s too old.’
‘She’s a fine actress. And you’ll remember how I used to stand in the wings when she was on stage and watch how she played Peggy.’
‘She’ll be a fool if she comes. Harris is a fool to ask her. What chance would she have against you! But do get up and put on a pretty gown and Hester can do your hair, for I do believe that George will be calling soon.’
‘I’ll be ready for George when he comes,’ said Dorothy.
Grace nodded. Good Heavens, thought Dorothy, she believes he has come to ask me to marry him and that I’m going to accepthim! Does she think I have no pride. But I do believe dear Mamma thinks it is wise to sink everything for honourable marriage. Honourable indeed! He’d be marrying twelve pounds a week and an almost certain brilliant theatrical future whereas thirty shillings and uncertainty was not good enough for him.
Hester came in. ‘Can I help you dress, Doll?’
‘Thank you. I feel grand with my lady’s
King was inclined to agree with her; Sheridan shrugged his shoulders.
‘Now you’ve returned, Sarah my dear,’ he said, ‘you can lead them back to tragedy and show them how much they prefer you to little Jordan.’
‘They will not need much leading.’
But they were not to be led. They showed clearly that it was laughter not tears they wanted.
‘If they want laughter,’ said Sarah, ‘I will play some of my lighter roles. I’ll give them Portia. They have always responded to her.’
But brilliant as Sarah was, beautiful as was her face – though her figure had suffered from childbearing and she had always been Junoesque – and magical her voice, she lacked the gamin quality of Dorothy Jordan and it was to Dorothy’s performances that the people were flocking.
Even King must see the importance of bringing in the money and The Romp had become a recognized afterpiece. The Prince of Wales came to see it twice in a week. Mrs Fitzherbert accompanied him and they sat laughing and applauding in their box.
‘The success of The Romp rests almost exclusively on the spirited performance of Mrs Jordan,’ wrote a critic in the Morning Post, ‘and it must be confessed that there has not been seen a more finished acting of its kind. It is not to be doubted therefore that this ludicrous little afterpiece will become a favourite not-withstanding the fastidious taste of certain critics who seemashamed of being so vulgar as to indulge in a hearty laugh.’
No, her power was too great for anyone to break. She had what the people wanted and were ready to pay for and no carping critic, no jealous actress, could stop her.
‘This will show Madam Sarah that she is not the only pebble on the beach nor the only actress in the world,’ commented Grace triumphantly.
Dorothy smiled at her indulgently. How lucky she was to have a mother who cared so passionately for her welfare!
One morning when Dorothy was sleeping late after a late night at the theatre Grace came into her room, her eyes shining with excitement.
She sat on the bed and cried: ‘What do you think? George Inchbald is in London. He arrived last night. You can be sure he’ll be calling today.’
Dorothy yawned. ‘Well, what of that?’
‘What of it! He’s come to see you. You can depend upon it.’
‘Well, I’m not all that eager to see him.’
Grace laughed knowingly. ‘He wouldn’t have come all this way for nothing.’ She was a little arch. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if he has a proposition to make.’
‘I can’t see that he would have any proposition to make to me which I should want to act on. He’s not a theatre manager and what could be better than Drury Lane unless it’s Covent Garden. And talking of Covent Garden I heard that Harris is going to bring Mrs Brown down to play in The Country Girl .’
‘That old hag!’ cried Grace. ‘London would never accept her. She’s too old.’
‘She’s a fine actress. And you’ll remember how I used to stand in the wings when she was on stage and watch how she played Peggy.’
‘She’ll be a fool if she comes. Harris is a fool to ask her. What chance would she have against you! But do get up and put on a pretty gown and Hester can do your hair, for I do believe that George will be calling soon.’
‘I’ll be ready for George when he comes,’ said Dorothy.
Grace nodded. Good Heavens, thought Dorothy, she believes he has come to ask me to marry him and that I’m going to accepthim! Does she think I have no pride. But I do believe dear Mamma thinks it is wise to sink everything for honourable marriage. Honourable indeed! He’d be marrying twelve pounds a week and an almost certain brilliant theatrical future whereas thirty shillings and uncertainty was not good enough for him.
Hester came in. ‘Can I help you dress, Doll?’
‘Thank you. I feel grand with my lady’s
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