CHAPTER XXV
THE COMMON CHORD
Nancy was considerably startled when Letizia at the age of nineteen entered the chorus of the Vanity Theatre. She had old-fashioned ideas about the dignity of her profession, and the chorus of the Vanity did not appeal to her as a worthy or suitable medium for the début of an actress who wanted to take her career seriously.
“Oh, but it’s so reassuring, mother,” Letizia exclaimed. “Can’t you understand how reassuring it is not to be chosen for your talents, but simply, solely, and entirely for your looks?”
“Yes, but the girls in the Vanity chorus are such a mixed lot. And I don’t like their outlook on life. It’s nearly always hard, mercenary, and, well, to speak quite frankly, my dear child, immoral.”
“I’ll be the shining exception,” Letizia vowed.
“Ah, yes, it’s all very well to say that. But you’ll soon be liable to take your tone from your surroundings, and become like the rest of them. Dear, it’s no use for me to pretend that your engagement at the Vanity is anything but a dreadful disappointment to me after your education, because it is—a dreadful disappointment.”
“Mother, try to believe I know what I’m doing. I’m not proposing to remain a Vanity girl. But the Vanity chorus is just what I require after such a careful bringing up. It will cure all the prunes and prisms of convent life; it will give me poise; and it will teach me the way of the world, of which at present I’m really hopelessly ignorant. I’m only just nineteen, and I must look fairly nice already or Mr. Richards would never have engaged me.”
Nancy contemplated her daughter. She had not turnedout so tall as she gave promise of being when she came back from Belgium. She was a full inch and a half shorter than her mother, and much, much slimmer. She had the fine Oriano profile with her mother’s vivid complexion and rich blue eyes ringed with a darker sapphire, and her mother’s deep-brown wavy hair. Yes, she certainly did look “fairly nice.” But still, the Vanity chorus—it was a disappointment. Nancy had made up her mind that Letizia should begin her stage experience by going out on tour with some sound Shakespearian or Old Comedy company. She would not earn much in the way of salary, but that would teach her how to be careful with money. And then after a couple of years of knocking about the provinces and playing all sorts of parts she could concentrate upon getting a London engagement and setting out to be famous. Now without taking anybody’s advice Letizia had gone off and interviewed John Richards and been engaged by him for the Vanity chorus. It was obvious that she could not live on her salary in such surroundings, which meant that her mother must give her an allowance if she was to be protected against the difficulty of trying to live up to a standard beyond her means without being exposed to temptation. And Nancy did grudge her savings being drawn upon to maintain a position in the Vanity chorus. However, the harm was done, and she was too wise to offer any more opposition for fear of making Letizia decide out of contrariness that the Vanity chorus was the end of an actress’s ambition. So, she offered her an allowance of £20 a month and put off on tour with a determination to save an extra pound a week from her own salary of £7. Of course, she never told Letizia that her allowance was being drawn out of her mother’s savings, but let her understand that it had been left for that purpose by her father.
The memory of Lettie Fuller and her short swift career upon the Vanity stage, bright and light as thedance of a butterfly through the hours of a Summer morning, should still be so fresh in the minds of play-goers that there is a kind of embarrassment in writing about it. Anyway, Lettie Fuller was our Letizia, and in the years 1910 and 1911 she was the spirit of youth and London as no doubt to-day that elusive and lovable spirit is incarnate in some other young woman. Peace and beauty and fortune attend her and all those who do adore her!
Letizia had not been six months in the chorus before she attracted the attention of John Richards by some imitations she gave at a supper party at which, most unusually for him, he was present. If John Richards’s eyes seemed exclusively occupied with the personal appearance of the young women who adorned his theatre, they were not on that account blind to talent. He asked who the good-looking girl was, remembered now that he had engaged her himself, was informed that she came of theatrical stock, and made a note on his cuff that she was to be given an important understudy. Letizia’s luck held. The lady who played the part she was understudying was taken ill at Brighton one Saturday afternoon; and that very night John Richards, who happened to pay one of his periodical visits to the back of a box in order to be sure that his company was not letting the show down by slackness, witnessed Letizia’s performance. He turned to his companion, and asked what he thought of her.
“I think she’s a marvel.”
“So do I,” said John Richards.
Yet he did not mention a word to Letizia about having seen her. In fact, neither she nor any of the company knew that the Guv’nor was in front, for these visits to his theatre were always paid in the strictest secrecy. However, when in July the musical comedy for the autumn production was ready for rehearsal, John Richards offered Letizia a part with three songs that were likelyto take London by storm, if the actress knew how to sing them.
Nancy was acting in Leicester the week that Letizia’s telegram arrived with its radiant news of the luck her birthday had brought. She went into the church where twenty-one years ago she and Bram were married, and there she lighted every candle she could find to Our Lady of Victories. The pricket blazed with such a prodigality of golden flames in the jewelled sunlight that the old woman who was cleaning out the pews came up to find out if this extravagant stranger was a genuine devotee.
“It’s all right,” Nancy told her. “I was married in this church twenty-one years ago, and I am thanking Heaven for happiness after much sorrow.”
The old cleaner smiled so benignly that Nancy gave her half a crown and begged for her prayers. Then she sought out the priest, and asked him to say Masses for the soul of Letizia’s great-grandmother and for herself a Mass of thanksgiving, and still another Mass for the intention of the Sisters of the Holy Infancy. She gave him, too, alms for the poor of his parish, and then going home to her lodgings she knelt beside her bed and wept the tears of unutterable thankfulness, those warm tears that flow like outpoured wine, so rich are they with the sunshine of the glad heart.
Letizia’s first night was on the ninth of September. Her mother decided to give up her autumn engagement, and trust to finding something later on when the supremely important date was past. She did not want to worry Letizia during her rehearsals; but her experience might be of service, and she ought to be near at hand. Nancy stayed at her old rooms in St. John’s Wood which she had chosen originally to be near Letizia at school in the days when she herself was a London actress. Perhaps if she could have mustered up as much excitement about her own first night in London, she might have been famous now herself instead of merely being favourablyknown to a number of provincial audiences. Yet how much more wonderful to be the mother of a famous daughter in whose success she could be completely absorbed without feeling the least guilt of egotism.
The piece that Autumn at the Vanity was only one of a long line of musical comedies between which it would be idle to attempt to distinguish; the part that Letizia played was only one of many similar parts, and the songs she sang had been written over and over again every year for many years; but Lettie Fuller herself was different. She was incarnate London, and this was strange, because she had neither a cockney accent nor, what was indeed unexpected on the musical comedy stage, a mincing suburban accent. She did not open big innocent eyes at the stalls and let her underclothes wink for her. She neither pursed her lips nor simpered, nor waggled her head. But she was beautiful with a shining naturalness and an infectious vitality; and as Mrs. Pottage told her mother, she was as fresh as a lilac in Spring.
The old lady—the very old lady, for she was now seventy-five—was sitting with Nancy in the middle of the stalls. Nancy thought that she would be less nervous there than in a box, and it would be easier for Letizia not to be too much aware of her mother’s anguished gaze.
“Well, I’m sorry she’s gone and had herself printed Lettie Fuller,” said Mrs. Pottage. “Because I’d made up my mind that before I died Iwouldlearn how to spell Letitsia, and I brought my best glasses on purpose so as I could see the name printed as it should be. And then she goes and calls herself Lettie, which a baby-in-arms could spell. And Mrs. Bugbird and pore Aggie Wilkinson was both very anxious to know just how it was spelt, so they’ll be disappointed. I only hope Mrs. B. will reckonise her when she comes on, because she won’t know who she is from Adam and Eve in the programme.”
“Is dear old Mrs. Bugbird here?” Nancy exclaimed.
“Of course she’s here—andpore Aggie Wilkinson, ofcourse. Why, they wouldn’t have missed it for nothing. It’s only to be hoped that Mrs. B. don’t fall over in the excitement. She’s in the front row of the upper circle, and if she did come down she’d about wipe out the front six rows of the pit. Still, I daresay Aggie will hook one of her pore crutches in the back of Mrs. B’s bodice which is bound to bust open in the first five minutes. The last time she and me went to the theatre she looked more like a tug-of-war than a respectable woman before the piece was over.”
“The overture’s beginning,” Nancy whispered, for people were beginning to turn round and stare at the apple-cheeked old lady who was talking so volubly in the middle of the stalls.
“So any one can see by the airs that conductor fellow’s giving himself. Why band-conductors should be so cocky I nevercouldfathom. It isn’t as if they did anything except wave that blessed bit of wood like a kid with a hoopstick. It’s the same with bus-conductors. They give theirselves as many airs as if they was driving the blessed bus itself. That’s it, now start tapping,” she went on in a tone of profound contempt. “Yes, if he dropped that silly bit of wood and got down off that high chair and did an honest night’s work banging the drum, perhaps he might give himself a few airs. Ah, now they’re off, and depend upon it that conductor-fellow thinks, if he stopped waving, the band would stop playing, and which of course is radicalous.”
The overture finished. The first bars of the opening chorus were being played. The curtain rose.
“There she is! There she is!” Mrs. Pottage gasped when from the crowded stage she disentangled Letizia’s debonair self. “And don’t she look a picture, the pretty jool!”
When the moment came for Letizia to sing her first song, her mother shut her eyes against the theatre that was spinning before them like a gigantic humming-top. It seemed an hour before she heard Letizia’s voice ringingout clear and sweet and cool across the footlights. She saw her win the hearts of the audience until they were all turned into one great heart beating for her. She heard the surge of her first encore, and then she might have fainted if Mrs. Pottage had not dug her sharply in the ribs at that moment.
“Did you hear what that old buffer in front of us said?” Mrs. Pottage whispered hoarsely.
“Something nice about Letizia?” she whispered back.
“He said he was damned if she wasn’t the best girl John Richards had found for years. And how I didn’t get up and kiss the blessed top of his bald head I’m bothered if I know.”
The curtain fell on the first act, and the loudest applause was always for Letizia.
“Oh, she’s knocked ’em,” Mrs. Pottage declared. “She’s absolutely knocked ’em. But she’s lovely! And, oh, dear, God bless us both, but how she did remind me of her pore father once or twice.”
The old lady fumbled for Nancy’s hand and squeezed it hard.
“Well, I don’t mind saying she’s made me feel like a girl again,” Mrs. Pottage went on after a moment or two of silence. “Every sweetheart I ever had come into my mind while she was singing that song. You know! It was like riding on the top of a bus in fine weather when they’ve just watered the streets and the may’s out in flower and you say to yourself there’s no place like dear old London after all and begin to nod and dream as you go jogging along, thinking of old faces and old fancies and the fun you’ve had years ago.”
The curtain rose on the second act, and with every line she said and with every note she sang Lettie Fuller became nearer and dearer to her audience that night.
Once, after a sally had been taken up by the house in roars of laughter, Mrs. Pottage exclaimed to Nancy:
“Hark! did you hear that? That was Mrs. Bugbird’s laugh above the lot. Oh, I’d reckonise that laugh if Iwas in my coffin. You mark my words, she’ll be whooping in a moment. That’s always the way it gets her. But pore Aggie’ll pat her back if she whoopstoohard.”
In spite of the encores—and Letizia always won by far the loudest and most persistent of them—the curtain fell at last on another thundering Vanity success.
“Bravo, bravo, my beauty!” Mrs. Pottage stood up to shout when Letizia took her call. Lots of other people were standing up and shouting, so her enthusiasm was not so very conspicuous. Nancy felt too weak with emotion to stand up herself, and sank back in a pale trance of joyful relief.
“There’s Mrs. B.!” Mrs. Pottage suddenly exclaimed. “And if she claps much louder, she’ll clap herself out of that new dress of hers for good and all. And when she gets out in the Strand she’ll be run in to Bow Street if she isn’t careful. She’s the most excitable woman I everdidknow.”
At last the audience consented to let the performers retire, and a few minutes later Nancy held Letizia in her arms.
“Darling mother, was I good?”
“Darling child, you were perfect.”
“And where’s Mrs. Pottage?” Letizia asked. “Did she think I was good?”
“The dear old soul’s waiting to be invited into your dressing-room.”
“Mrs. Pottage! Mrs. Pottage!” Letizia cried, hugging the old lady. “You’re coming back to supper with me, aren’t you?”
“Oh, no, duckie. I’ve got Mrs. Bugbird and pore Aggie Wilkinson waiting to go back to Greenwich. We’re all going to take a cab to London Bridge.”
“Oh, but they must both come to supper too. They must really. I’ll get a car to drive you home. Youmustall come. I won’t be long dressing.”
And, if it was possible for Nancy to feel any happier that night, it was when her little daughter showed thatsuccess had not made her heedless of old simple friends.
The very next day Nancy went round to see her agent.
“You don’t mean to tell me you want to get another engagement at once, Miss O’Finn? Why, I should have thought you would have wanted to stay and enjoy your daughter’s success. It was wonderful. What notices, eh? By Jove, it’s refreshing nowadays to hear of anybody clicking like that.”
“Oh, no, I’ve rested quite long enough,” Nancy said. “I want to be off on tour again as soon as possible.”
The agent looked at his book.
“Well, I’m awfully sorry, Miss O’Finn, but I don’t believe there’s anything just at the moment that would suit you.” He paused. “Unless—but, no, of course, you don’t want to play that line of parts yet.”
“What line?”
“Why, Charles Hamilton is losing Miss Wolsey who has been playing Mrs. Malaprop, Mrs. Hardcastle, etc., with him for the last fifteen years.”
“You mean the old women?” Nancy asked.
“Quite—er—quite.”
“I would like to be with Charles Hamilton,” she said pensively. “And at forty it’s time to strike out in a new line of parts.”
“Well, he’s playing at Croydon this week. If you would consider these parts, why don’t you go and see him? It’s a pleasant company to be in. Forty-two weeks, year in year out, and of course he occasionally has a season in London. Nothing but Shakespeare and Old Comedy.”
Nancy did not hesitate. Now that her daughter was safely launched it was time for her to be settling down. She went back to her rooms and wrote a long letter to Mother Catherine about Letizia’s triumph. Then she wrote to Charles Hamilton for an interview. She went to Croydon, interviewed him, and a fortnight later she was playing with him at Sheffield—Mrs. Candour inTheSchool for Scandalon Monday, the Nurse inRomeo and Julieton Tuesday, Mrs. Malaprop inThe Rivalson Wednesday, Mistress Quickly inThe Merry Wiveson Thursday, nothing on Friday whenTwelfth Nightwas performed, but on Saturday Mrs. Hardcastle inShe Stoops to Conquerat the matinée and at night once more the Nurse inRomeo and Juliet.
Nancy no longer worried over her increasing tendency to increasing portliness, and she never regretted joining Charles Hamilton’s company, which now that Mrs. Hunter-Hart had retired represented the last stronghold of the legitimate drama in Great Britain. So long as Charles Hamilton went out on tour she determined to tour with him. The habit of saving so much out of her salary every week was not given up because Letizia was secure; indeed she saved more each week, because now that she had taken to dowagers she could afford to ignore the changes of fashion which had made dressing a problem so long as she was competing for parts with younger women.
And then Letizia Fuller after enchanting London for a year abandoned the stage for ever in order to marry the young Earl of Darlington.
The following letter to her mother explained her reasons:
125 Gordon Mansions,Gordon Square,W. C.Sept. 15.My darling darling Mother,In a few days you will read in the papers that I am engaged to be married to Lord Darlington. I haven’t said anything to you about this before, because I wanted to make up my own mind entirely for myself. He proposed to me first about two months ago, and though I loved him I wondered if I loved him enough to give up the stage. You don’t know how much I was enjoying being loved by the public. That’swhat I wondered if I could give up, not the ambition to become a great actress. But I’ve come to the definite conclusion that I’m not really so very ambitious at all. I think that simple happiness is the best, and my success at the Vanity was really a simple happiness. It was the being surrounded by hundreds of jolly people, every one of whom I liked and who liked me. But I don’t think I should ever want to be a wonderful Lady Macbeth, and thrill people by the actress part of me. I’m not really acting at the Vanity. I’m just being myself and enjoying it.Of course, people might say that if marriage with an earl is simple happiness then simple happiness is merely social ambition. But I assure you that unless I loved Darlington I would not dream of marrying him. He’s not very rich, and apart from the pleasure of being a countess it’s no more than marrying any good-looking, simple, country squire. The only problems for me were first to find out if I loved him as much as I loved the public and being loved by them, and secondly to know if he would agree that all the children should be Catholics. Well, I do know that I love him more than I love the public and I do know that I want his love more than I want the love of the public. And he agreed at once about the children.Thanks to you, darling, I’m not likely to seem particularly out of place in my new part. Perhaps it’s only now that I realise what you’ve done for me all these years. You shall always be proud of me. I do realise too what dear Mother Catherine and the nuns have done for me. I’m writing to her by this post to try to express a little of my gratitude.Darling mother, I’m so happy and I love you so dearly.Your ownLetizia.
125 Gordon Mansions,Gordon Square,W. C.Sept. 15.
125 Gordon Mansions,Gordon Square,W. C.Sept. 15.
125 Gordon Mansions,
Gordon Square,
W. C.
Sept. 15.
My darling darling Mother,
In a few days you will read in the papers that I am engaged to be married to Lord Darlington. I haven’t said anything to you about this before, because I wanted to make up my own mind entirely for myself. He proposed to me first about two months ago, and though I loved him I wondered if I loved him enough to give up the stage. You don’t know how much I was enjoying being loved by the public. That’swhat I wondered if I could give up, not the ambition to become a great actress. But I’ve come to the definite conclusion that I’m not really so very ambitious at all. I think that simple happiness is the best, and my success at the Vanity was really a simple happiness. It was the being surrounded by hundreds of jolly people, every one of whom I liked and who liked me. But I don’t think I should ever want to be a wonderful Lady Macbeth, and thrill people by the actress part of me. I’m not really acting at the Vanity. I’m just being myself and enjoying it.
Of course, people might say that if marriage with an earl is simple happiness then simple happiness is merely social ambition. But I assure you that unless I loved Darlington I would not dream of marrying him. He’s not very rich, and apart from the pleasure of being a countess it’s no more than marrying any good-looking, simple, country squire. The only problems for me were first to find out if I loved him as much as I loved the public and being loved by them, and secondly to know if he would agree that all the children should be Catholics. Well, I do know that I love him more than I love the public and I do know that I want his love more than I want the love of the public. And he agreed at once about the children.
Thanks to you, darling, I’m not likely to seem particularly out of place in my new part. Perhaps it’s only now that I realise what you’ve done for me all these years. You shall always be proud of me. I do realise too what dear Mother Catherine and the nuns have done for me. I’m writing to her by this post to try to express a little of my gratitude.
Darling mother, I’m so happy and I love you so dearly.
Your ownLetizia.
Three days later, the engagement of the beloved Lettie Fuller gave the press one of those romantic stories so dear and so rightly dear to it. Two days after the announcement Nancy received from Caleb Fuller a letter addressed to her care of Miss Lettie Fuller, at the Vanity Theatre.
The Towers,Lower Bilkton,Cheshire.Sept. 18, 1911.My dear Nancy,I’ve been intending to write to you for a long time now to invite you and Lettie to come and stay with us. But this new house which I have just built has taken longer to get ready than I expected. It’s situated in very pretty country about fifteen miles from Brigham, and my architect has made a really beautiful miniature castle which everybody admires. I presented dear old Lebanon House to the Borough of Brigham to be used as an up-to-date lunatic asylum which was badly required in the district.Trixie and I do so very much hope that you and Lettie will come and stay with us and spend a quiet time before the wedding takes place, of which by the way we have read. You haven’t met Trixie yet, and it’s always such a disappointment to her. But I’m sure you’ll understand what a mess we’ve been in with building. I want you to meet Norman too. Do you know, he’s fifteen. Doesn’t time fly? He’s at Rossall, and I’ve made up my mind to give him the chance his father never had and let him go to the University.Are you interested in gardening? Trixie is a great gardener and spends all her time with her roses. Now, I think I’ve given you most of our news, and we are waiting anxiously to hear you are going to give us the pleasure of your visit. Poor Aunt Achsah and Aunt Thyrza are both dead. I would have sent you a notice of the funerals if I had known your address.With every good wish for your happiness and for the happiness of dear little Lettie,Your affectionate brother-in-law,Caleb Fuller.
The Towers,Lower Bilkton,Cheshire.Sept. 18, 1911.
The Towers,Lower Bilkton,Cheshire.Sept. 18, 1911.
The Towers,
Lower Bilkton,
Cheshire.
Sept. 18, 1911.
My dear Nancy,
I’ve been intending to write to you for a long time now to invite you and Lettie to come and stay with us. But this new house which I have just built has taken longer to get ready than I expected. It’s situated in very pretty country about fifteen miles from Brigham, and my architect has made a really beautiful miniature castle which everybody admires. I presented dear old Lebanon House to the Borough of Brigham to be used as an up-to-date lunatic asylum which was badly required in the district.
Trixie and I do so very much hope that you and Lettie will come and stay with us and spend a quiet time before the wedding takes place, of which by the way we have read. You haven’t met Trixie yet, and it’s always such a disappointment to her. But I’m sure you’ll understand what a mess we’ve been in with building. I want you to meet Norman too. Do you know, he’s fifteen. Doesn’t time fly? He’s at Rossall, and I’ve made up my mind to give him the chance his father never had and let him go to the University.
Are you interested in gardening? Trixie is a great gardener and spends all her time with her roses. Now, I think I’ve given you most of our news, and we are waiting anxiously to hear you are going to give us the pleasure of your visit. Poor Aunt Achsah and Aunt Thyrza are both dead. I would have sent you a notice of the funerals if I had known your address.
With every good wish for your happiness and for the happiness of dear little Lettie,
Your affectionate brother-in-law,Caleb Fuller.
To this Nancy sent back a postcard:
Hell is paved with good intentions, Caleb!
Hell is paved with good intentions, Caleb!
It is tempting to prolong this with an account of Letizia’s wedding and to relate what Mrs. Pottage woreat it and what she said when Lord Darlington kissed her good-bye, before he and Letizia set out on their honeymoon. It is tempting to dwell on the wit and the beauty of Letizia Darlington and still more tempting to enlarge upon her happiness. But she and her husband belong too much to the present to be written about and this tale of over eighty years is already too long. Yet, one more letter must be printed.
C/o Charles Hamilton’sShakespeare-Sheridan Company.Princess’s Theatre,Bristol.Dec. 3, 1913.Darling Letizia,I’m so overjoyed you’re glad to have a second little boy, though I hope you’ll have a little girl soon. You are a dear child to want me to give up acting and settle down with you at Vipont for the rest of my life. But you know, I am still comparatively young, only 44, and from every point of view I think it is better that I should go on acting. I am very happy with Mr. Hamilton, and the life on tour suits me. Moreover, it amuses me to feel that one day I may have quite a nice little nest egg for this new little boy who will be a younger son, and I know that Vipont requires all the money you’ve got to keep it up properly. God bless you, my darling, and let me go on acting quietly in this very pleasant old-fashioned company which is more like a family party than anything else.My dear love to all of you.Your lovingMother.
C/o Charles Hamilton’sShakespeare-Sheridan Company.Princess’s Theatre,Bristol.Dec. 3, 1913.
C/o Charles Hamilton’sShakespeare-Sheridan Company.Princess’s Theatre,Bristol.Dec. 3, 1913.
C/o Charles Hamilton’s
Shakespeare-Sheridan Company.
Princess’s Theatre,
Bristol.
Dec. 3, 1913.
Darling Letizia,
I’m so overjoyed you’re glad to have a second little boy, though I hope you’ll have a little girl soon. You are a dear child to want me to give up acting and settle down with you at Vipont for the rest of my life. But you know, I am still comparatively young, only 44, and from every point of view I think it is better that I should go on acting. I am very happy with Mr. Hamilton, and the life on tour suits me. Moreover, it amuses me to feel that one day I may have quite a nice little nest egg for this new little boy who will be a younger son, and I know that Vipont requires all the money you’ve got to keep it up properly. God bless you, my darling, and let me go on acting quietly in this very pleasant old-fashioned company which is more like a family party than anything else.
My dear love to all of you.Your lovingMother.
And up and down the length of England, in and out of Wales, over to Ireland, and across the border into Scotland Nancy O’Finn still wandered.
THE END