Edward Marston - The Fair Maid of Bohemia

‘There is no place in the theatre for a woman,’ he said.

‘A lady,’ corrected Firethorn. ‘A lady.’

‘Woman, lady, widow or maid. They are all anathema.’

‘Not to any man with red blood in his veins.’

‘I came into the profession to escape womankind.’

‘You came in search of Clement Islip and his kind,’ said Firethorn scornfully. ‘Pretty boys with a pair of bewitching buttocks. That is all a theatre company means to you.’

Gill fumed. ‘I came to exercise my art,’ he said.

‘Corrupting innocent youths.’

‘Mistress Hendrik will hinder our work!’

‘That is not true, Barnaby,’ said Hoode reasonably. ‘Anne’s presence will curb some of the bawdier talk and that is all to the good. Obscenities are too readily exchanged when drink is taken. I am with Lawrence here. Anne will be a great benefit to us in a number of ways.’

‘Name me one,’ challenged Gill.

‘Dignity. She will lend us some dignity.’

‘There is no gainsaying that,’ added Firethorn.

A full rehearsal of Love and Fortune was not deemed necessary. It was fresh in their minds from Cologne and was a proven success in front of a German audience. Firethorn contented himself with making the company walk through the piece in order to get used to the feel of the stage and to assess the conditions in which they would perform. A large booth had been commandeered for use as the tiring-house. Beside it was a smaller tent in which scenic devices and properties could be kept.

Nicholas suggested an improvement which Firethorn readily embraced. Music was to be played between each of the five acts of the play to enable costumes and scenery to be changed, and to allow the audience time to absorb what they had just seen. The action of the play would be slowed but this was outweighed by the gains. Even without Adrian Smallwood, the company had four actor-musicians, and the quartet were pleased to be featured much more in the revival of Love and Fortune .

Chairs and benches were set out on raised platforms down at the rear of the auditorium. Complimentary seats were offered to the Burgomaster and his Council, but others paid four albus to watch the play from a sitting position. Standees were charged half that price. The day’s takings would be subject to a ten per-cent city tax but that did not alarm Westfield’s Men. When they saw the best part of a thousand people crowding into their theatre, they knew that they would make a tidy profit out of two hours’ strutting on a stage.

Minutes before the performance was due to begin, Firethorn spoke to his company like a general addressing his troops on the eve of a decisive battle.

‘Gentlemen,’ he declared, ‘it is time to show a German audience the true worth of English actors. We delighted with this play in Cologne but we must go beyond delight today. We must woo, we must ensnare, we must excite, we must captivate. Frankfurt has never seen players of our quality before. Let us scorch vivid memories in their minds and leave them gasping in astonishment. Remember, friends,’ he said, wagging a finger, ‘that we have two more performances to give here. If we distinguish ourselves today, we shall have even more people coming to see us tomorrow and the day after. Think of England, think of reputation.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Think of money!’

He had them straining to get out on the stage.

Anne Hendrik sat near the back and watched it all with fascination. She had seen the play more than once at the Queen’s Head, but this version was very different. It was played at a more measured pace and included additional songs and dances. Most of the wit and word-play was lost on the audience but they were entranced by the visual aspects of the production. Musical interludes allowed them time to discuss the plot before new twists were introduced to it. Moments of crude farce sent them into hysterics. Anne found herself studying the audience more closely than the play.

Frankfurt cheered the performance to the echo and all but drowned out the rival hullabaloo of the fair. The Burgomaster was thrilled by what he had seen and insisted on meeting the entire company. Since he spoke no English at all, Anne came into her own as an interpreter. Enthusiastic in his praise of everyone, the Burgomaster was especially taken by Barnaby Gill’s brilliant mimes. He talked excitedly to the clown for five minutes.

‘What on earth is the fool saying?’ asked Gill.

‘He says that you were splendid,’ translated Anne. ‘He and his wife have never laughed so much in their life.’

‘Oh!’ said Gill, basking in the commendation. ‘It is good to know that the city is run by a man of such discernment. What else did he say about me? I want to hear every word.’

Anne paraphrased freely and he lapped up the flattery. Nicholas looked on with amusement. She was already proving her value to the company. Even Gill was coming to appreciate that. Firethorn could not resist a gibe at the clown.

‘Who said that a lady had no place in the theatre?’

‘I did,’ affirmed Gill. ‘And I hold to that view.’

‘After all that Anne has just done for us?’

‘Drama is the domain of men.’

‘Translate that into German.’

Gill conceded a unique smile of self-deprecation.

‘Even I have my limitations,’ he said.

***

Three days in Frankfurt helped to erase ugly memories of Flushing and uneasy recollections of The Corrupt Bargain in Cologne. Westfield’s Men could do no wrong. Marriage and Mischief won them countless new friends at their second performance and Cupid’s Folly extended their fame even further on the final afternoon. As they returned to the Golden Lion to celebrate their achievements, they were in a buoyant mood.

‘I begin to love this country,’ said Owen Elias.

‘It is growing on me as well,’ agreed James Ingram.

‘I still do not like the beer,’ said George Dart timidly. ‘It is too strong for my stomach.’ His face brightened. ‘But I like the sausages. They are wonderful. Wunderbar!’

‘You are not the only person to like them, George,’ said Elias. ‘Do you know what a German’s idea of happiness is?’

‘No, Owen.’

‘Lange Würste, Kurz Predigen.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘Long sausages, short sermons.’

‘Food before faith,’ observed Ingram. ‘They’re a practical people, the Germans.’

‘Their women have a similar motto,’ said Elias.

‘Do they?’

‘A long sausage, twice a night.’

Dart was puzzled. ‘The women eat sausages at night?’

‘If their menfolk are lucky!’

The jest produced ribald laughter from some of the others but its meaning was way beyond Dart. He turned his attention to the monster sausage before him. As he popped the end into his mouth, his fellows gave him a mocking cheer. None the wiser, he chewed away contentedly.

Nicholas was at a table with Firethorn, Hoode and Anne Hendrik. While the actors were toasting their success on the stage, the book-holder was reflecting on the financial benefits of their visit. Part of his job was to collect, count and look after all the money paid for admission to the performances. In addition to what the gatherers had taken, there was a generous donation from the City Council. Three days in Frankfurt had brought in as much as three weeks at the Queen’s Head. It made Firethorn think fondly of home once more.

‘Margery must share in this good fortune,’ he said. ‘I must find a way to send money back to her in Shoreditch.’

‘She will surely be grateful,’ said Anne.

‘There will be others of the same mind,’ added Nicholas. ‘They have wives and families as well.’

‘So much money in such a short time!’ said Firethorn, rubbing his palms together. ‘Germany has enriched us.’