CHAPTER XVI
“GOD GRANT ME TO DESERVE SUCCESS”
Still working at high pressure with her magazine articles, Miss Mitford was able to give the promised attention to Foscari, and in June, 1822, dispatched it with its new fifth act—it was the seventh revision of this particular act—to London and, this time, to Charles Kemble for she now held the opinion that the play was not exactly suited to Macready’s style. In the meantime, it was her intention to write something more ambitious “a higher tragedy, with some fine and splendid character, the real hero for Macready, and some gallant-spirited youth, who may seem the hero, for Mr. Kemble.”
Having sent off the manuscript she tried hard to forget it and to possess her soul in patience, but now and again in her letters—very few, now that she was so busy—there are indications of her anxiety. “If my Foscari were to succeed I should be tempted to have a pony-chaise myself”—this because a friend had called and given her the pleasure of a short ride—“I do so love a drive in a pony-chaise! You know, everything that I want or wish I always say ‘if Foscari succeeds.’ I said so the other day about a new straw bonnet, and then about a white geranium, and then about a pink sash, and then about a straw work-basket, and then about a pocket-book, all in the course of one street.”
In August and September she paid flying visits to town to see Kemble about the play and found him so charming that she confessed—hoping no one would tell Mrs. Kemble!—she was the least in the world in love with him and that he ranked second to Napoleon in her imagination. He made her a promise that, subject to the approval of Macready—then on an Italian tour—he would produce the play the first of the season. “Nothing I believe, is certain in a theatre till the curtain is fairly drawn up and let down again; but, as far as I can see, I have, from the warm zeal and admirable character of the new manager and his very clever and kind-hearted lady, every reason to expect a successful début. Wish for me and Foscari. You have all my kindest and gratefulest thoughts, though a tremendous pressure of occupation will not allow me to express them so often as I used to do.”
Unfortunately Kemble was unable to fulfil his promise, Macready having arranged first for the production of another play, “but,” said she, “Charles Kemble, my dear Charles Kemble says—almost swears—it shall be acted this season, and with new dresses and new scenery. There has been a terrible commotion in consequence of C. Kemble’s reluctance to delay. If it were not for my absolute faith in him I should despair.”
Kemble kept his promise, as well as he was able, by producing the play during the year 1826, but only at the expense of a quarrel with Macready—a quarrel fanned by Mrs. Kemble who, although Miss Mitford had written of her as “the clever, kind-hearted lady” was subsequently described in a letter to Talfourd, as making statements “so artificial, so made up, so untrue, so circular—if she had said a great deal less without the fine words and the ‘Dear Madams’ I should have believed her much more.”
At this juncture, and before there was any idea of the possibility of friction between himself and Kemble, Macready had suggested to Miss Mitford that she should write him a historical play and went so far as to outline the plot. To have such a suggestion from the great tragedian was in itself sufficient to send her into an ecstasy—here was proof positive of his belief in her—and so, submitting the project for Talfourd’s approval, and being urged by him to proceed, she set to work at fever heat, towards the close of 1822, on the play of Julian. It was strenuous work and all the while the author was torn with the fear that she would not be able to produce anything worthy of Macready. Dr. Valpy was being continually referred to for his judgment on the various characters—whether they were too weak or too strong—too prudish or too improper—and Talfourd was besought to “speak the truth, fearlessly, and say whether I shall give it up.” At last it was finished and was sent to Macready and Talfourd for their judgment and criticism.
“My execution falls very short of your design,” she wrote; “but indeed it is not for want of pains—I think one reason why it is so ill done, is the strong anxiety I had to do well—to justify your and Mr. Macready’s kind encouragement—the stimulus was too great.” Both Macready and Talfourd made corrections and suggestions, which the author duly acted upon and thereby won unstinted praise from her two friendly critics. “I hope you and he are as right in your praise, as in your censure—but I confess that I am not yet recovered from my astonishment at the extent of your approbation—I am afraid you overrate it—sadly afraid. And yet it is very delightful to be so overrated. It would be a shame if I did not improve with the unspeakable advantage of your advice and your kindness and all the pains you have taken with me.”
On Julian, which she characterized as worth a thousand of Foscari, she was ready to stake all her dramatic hopes and when, at length, in February, 1823, Macready read the play in the green-room and promised its production in ten days or a fortnight, her delight was unbounded. It was produced in the second week of March, with Macready as the principal character, and met with instant success. The author went to town on a visit to her friend, Mrs. Hofland, in Newman Street, that she might the better enjoy the exquisite pain and pleasure of seeing her play presented for the first time. Although she had sent and received many messages to and from Macready, through their mutual friend Talfourd, she had not met him until this occasion and it is no figure of speech to say that they were each considerably struck with the other. Miss Mitford’s verdict on the interview, conveyed in a letter to Sir William Elford, was “He is just such another soul of fire as Haydon—highly educated, and a man of great literary acquirements—consorting entirely with poets and young men of talent. Indeed it is to his knowledge of my friend Mr. Talfourd that I owe the first introduction of my plays to his notice.”
The result to Miss Mitford in cash on the production of Julian was £200, not a vast sum in the light of present-day successes, but still very fair considering that it only ran for eight days, having to be withdrawn in favour of another play. In any case the money was very acceptable to the inmates of the little cottage at Three Mile Cross. The endeavour to clear up outstanding debts weighed heavily on Miss Mitford and, short of a reserve for the barest necessities, the whole of her income was being devoted to that end. A few things of value had been saved from the wreck of the Bertram House establishment, notably some choice engravings, and those were sent to Mrs. Hofland in London who had promised to warehouse them until such time as the owners, having acquired a larger house, might send for them. Any hope of this contingency, which Miss Mitford may have entertained, had been dispersed by the year 1823, and so we find her writing in June of that year begging Mrs. Hofland to try and dispose of some of the pictures to Messrs. Hurst and Robinson and to arrange for the sale of the rest either at Sotheby’s or Robins’s.
It was indeed a most anxious year, notwithstanding the triumph of Julian and the fact that its author was one of the most talked-of women of the day.