There is Nothing like a Dame A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright© 2017, 2018 & 2019 Bronwen Welsh A sequel to 'The Might-Have-Been Girl' and 'All the World's a Stage'

Chapter 51   The Melbourne season continues and a letter arrives.

The season progressed well and I was really enjoying it. I've never had to endure playing to a half-full auditorium, but actors who have tell me it is very dispiriting. The exact opposite is true when the house is full; the actors can feel the energy of the audience reacting to what is taking place on stage, laughing with the jokes and sighing at sad moments. It is truly magical.

I and Susan, who was acting as my director for the recital, had discussed its format and whether there should be an interval. The poem itself took about an hour to recite and with the musical interludes and some sonnets at the end, we estimated that it would last a little under two hours. For this reason, the tickets were cheaper than for 'Romeo and Juliet'.

“There are plenty of two-hour feature films and no-one expects an interval with them. If we had one, it would have to take place during the poem and that would be too disruptive, so I suggest no interval,” said Susan. I was happy to agree with her.

It was due to be held on the third Sunday afternoon of the season and I was pleased to hear that tickets were selling really well since I had been wondering if this was going to be too much Shakespeare. The trio who would be joining me on the stage arrived for introductions one morning. They consisted of two sisters and their brother; Clementine who played violin, Calpurnia who played flute and clarinet, and Roland who played piano. With names like that, I couldn't help wondering if their parents had decided from birth that they would be musicians. Of course, as Australians, they abbreviated the names when talking to each other, so then they were 'Cal', 'Clem' and 'Ro'.

They seemed a bit overawed meeting the 'star' from England, but I did my best to put them at their ease and I think I succeeded. Like Miriam and Itzak Rabinovich who had accompanied my American recital, they saw this as a chance to become more well-known, and it was certainly the first time they would be playing to such a large audience. I told them about the young Americans and how they were now studying in London and on their way to a professional career in music. This seemed to boost their confidence.

They were fond of playing music from the Middle Ages, such as Tallis, Byrd, Holborne, Parsons, and even King Henry VIII who was a noted musician and composer, although the most famous song attributed to him, 'Greensleeves', was probably written in the reign of his daughter Elizabeth I.

The trio was a little nervous when they auditioned for me and Susan, but they needn't have worried as their playing was excellent and we decided on the spot that they would be a perfect accompaniment for my recital. We discussed pieces they could play and then sat down to work out the order. I had already decided where the music interludes should be in the recitation of 'Venus and Adonis', and it was also resolved that they would open the recital after which I would come onstage, introduce them and start the poem. We arranged some rehearsal times during which I would not recite the whole poem, but just the first couple of verses, the last couple before the musical interludes and the couple of verses afterwards.

On the day of the recital, we gathered at the theatre at lunchtime. After a light lunch together, during which I did my best to put them at their ease, we went to our dressing rooms to get ready. The two young women wore very pretty gowns and heels and their brother wore grey trousers, a white shirt with a bow tie and black shoes, not so glamorous, but then men are rather limited in what they can wear and a dinner suit seemed too formal.

I had indulged myself by purchasing a beautiful new gown. For those not familiar with Melbourne, the city centre was laid out in a grid by surveyor Robert Hoddle in 1837, which makes it much easier to negotiate than the 'dog's breakfast' of Sydney streets, or London's for that matter. The eastern end of Collins Street terminates close to the Windsor Hotel and is home to a number of establishments with famous names such as Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, Georgio Armani and many more.

One morning when I had a few free hours, I was wandering down Collins Street, window-shopping as women do, when I saw a most beautiful gown in a boutique window. It was made of silk and the design was a wonderful mixture of blues and greens. Before I realised what I was doing I had entered the store, despite the fact that there was no price on the gown, probably because 'if you have to ask the price, you can't afford it'. I was shown into a beautifully appointed changing room to try it on. It fitted perfectly. I knew it was a 'one-off' couture item and I wouldn't ever see another woman wearing the same gown..

“It could have been made for you, madam,” said the manager of the shop, dressed in the traditional black, who told me it came from a local designer who was now making a name for herself on the world stage. I decided on the spot that I had to have it. In fact, while I held my breath when I asked the price, it was not as expensive as I had feared.

Just before the recital started, I checked out the audience through a peephole. It was gratifyingly large. The curtain rose and the young musicians walked on to applause. They played the first piece and I waited until the applause began to die down and then made my appearance to increased applause, carrying a book which was largely a prop as I knew the whole poem to heart.

I bowed to the audience: “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. May I introduce Calpurnia, Clementine and Roland de Witte who kindly agreed to provide the musical interludes for my recital today?” There was more applause and then I continued. “When I arrived in Australia I was made aware of a local saying; it seems I am what is called a 'Shakespearean tragic'. I am gratified to see that I am not alone.” The audience burst into laughter and applause, we were off to a good start.

“The strange thing about Shakespeare is that while he is easily the most famous poet and playwright in English history, comparatively few of his plays are regularly performed, and even less of his poetry if you exclude the sonnets. He wrote two epic poems, one of which 'Venus and Adonis', I will perform today, . Because of its length, two hundred verses, we have decided on some musical interludes to break it up into manageable amounts. These will be performed by these three young talented musicians.

Opening my book, I continued: “Shakespeare was very human and he writes what I consider a very much tongue-in-cheek dedication of the poem to his patron which reads as follows:

'TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD.
RIGHT HONORABLE,
I KNOW not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.
Your honour's in all duty,
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'

Then the poem begins:

'Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him'”

The performance went very well; the musical interludes were appreciated, not least by me since it gave me a chance to rest my voice and have a few sips of water. At the conclusion, the applause was very gratifying and the audience even gave me a standing ovation.

I left the stage with the trio, but the applause continued and I finally returned to an increase in the volume, and stamping of feet which it seems is a local custom demonstrating great approval. I had been advised that Australian audiences at concerts expect an encore, so it seemed logical that they would demand something of me. Therefore I had chosen a few of the most famous sonnets.

“It's said of Shakespeare that he has a quote for any occasion,” I said. “This one, Sonnet 116 is very popular at weddings and I've been asked to recite it on more than one such occasion. It reads as follows:

'Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.'

I recited two more sonnets and finished with the most famous of all, Sonnet 18 “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?”

At its conclusion, I bowed again and said “Thank you very much, and good afternoon,” As I left the stage the curtain came down and the house lights came up signalling the end of the recital.

--ooOoo--

I have a problem. Emma took over the task of filing all my reviews after Mum passed away. This means I have a complete record from my very first review when I was the accidental actress in 'Dear Brutus'. She also edits these memoirs, although any errors are entirely my own fault. She insists that I should make reference to reviews from time to time even though I protested that this is something only someone with an enlarged head or ego would do. She takes no notice of my protestations, so here goes.

I confess that the review of the recital was very satisfying. Under the heading 'Harriet Stow conducts a Shakespeare Masterclass' was a photograph of me in the foreground and the trio behind me onstage. Thanks to digital cameras, it's possible to take excellent photos onstage nowadays, even in subdued light.

The text below read: 'Harriet Stow, a visiting actress from the Imperial Shakespeare Company of Stratford-Upon-Avon in England, and currently starring in 'Romeo and Juliet' which is enjoying a sell-out season at the Princess Theatre, gave a masterclass in the art of performing Shakespearan poetry at the Princess Theatre last Sunday afternoon. After an excellent rendition of the rarely performed hour-long poem 'Venus and Adonis' entirely from memory, she concluded the performance with some of Shakespeare's best-known sonnets.

Musical interludes were performed by the talented de Witte trio of two sisters and a brother complementing the spoken word. News of Miss Stow's brilliant performances in 'Romeo and Juliet' has obviously spread, leading to a nearly full house of 'Shakespeare tragics' who thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon's entertainment. We hope it is not the last time Harriet Stow graces our shores.'

What's not to like about that!

The season continued and the time of Reggie's arrival drew near. He was due on what was to have been the final Saturday night of the season, now extended by a week. I couldn't go to the airport to meet him, but Bruce said he would pick him up.

“Please remember that his surname and my married name is 'Staunton',” I said, worried that he might put up a sign saying 'Mr Stow'. I knew Reggie wouldn't comment or complain, but out of respect for him it wasn't something I wished to happen.

I had to put his arrival out of my mind while I performed that night, but I was excited by the fact that he would be at the hotel when I arrived from the theatre. I didn't hang around that night but went straight to the hotel and my room. Reggie was waiting for me and I threw myself into his arms.

“I've missed you so much,” I whispered in his ear, after a prolonged kiss. We ordered some tea and sandwiches to be sent to our room and I asked him about his trip.

“It was fabulous,” he said. “You've ruined me for travelling 'cattle class', I hope you realise that?”

I laughed. “How about we travel back 'First Class'? That will be even better.” He grinned and hugged me again. I helped him unpack and then he produced a few envelopes.

“Here's your mail; I thought I might as well bring it along.”

I looked at a large envelope bearing the initials 'O.H.M.S.' (On Her Majesty's Service – meaning correspondance from the government).

Reggie grinned: “It looks like the tax man has caught up with you at last!” he joked.

I slip open the envelope and drew out the single folded sheet of paper and started to read. Reggie's grin changed to a look of concern.

“What's the matter, Harriet? You've gone as white as a sheet!” he said.

Wordlessly, I handed him the letter to read.

To be continued.