Stage monarchs invariably attract our sympathy, whether they are mad, like Alan Bennett’s George III, or dethroned, like Mike Bartlett’s Charles III. Helen Edmundson’s fascinating new play is no exception in that it shows how the shy, sickly Anne grew, between 1702 and 1714, into a figure of solitary self-reliance.
Edmundson is particularly good on the intricacies of court politics. Although Anne heartily detests William III – “that monster, that Caliban, that Dutch abortion” – she is his designated successor largely to ensure Protestant supremacy. To that end, she also encourages John Churchill to prosecute the war in Europe against the Franco-Spanish alliance. But at the heart of the play lies Anne’s passionate dependence on Churchill’s wife, Sarah. The love, Edmundson implies, lies largely on Anne’s side, with the ambitious Sarah using it as an instrument of power, only to find herself supplanted by the conniving Abigail Masham.
The relationship between Anne and Sarah is handled with tact and compassion and Edmundson suggests, without overstating, the topical resonances of 18th-century politics: it is deeply ironic to see the Tories portrayed as the anti-war party and there is even a hint that Anne, in her piety and desire to transcend factionalism, set a pattern for modern monarchy.
But, in attempting to demonstrate that scurrilous, satirical journalism had its origins in Anne’s reign, Edmundson devalues the literary figures of the age such as Swift and Defoe. You would never guess, from their portrayal here, that the former was the author of A Tale of a Tub and the latter a peripatetic enquirer into the condition of England, since they are seen largely as members of a louche drinking club given to singing raucous songs.
The real strength of the play, and of Natalie Abrahami’s fast-moving production, lies with the women and the two key roles are excellently played. Emma Cunniffe’s Anne shows a woman triumphing over pain and 17 unhappy pregnancies to learn how to reign with grace. Yet Cunniffe, bewigged to bear a strong resemblance to the Michael Dahl portrait reproduced in the programme, also captures Anne’s neediness, especially when she craves a kiss from her beloved Sarah. Natascha McElhone conveys, with equal assurance, both Sarah’s seductiveness and the chip of ice at her heart and there is good support from Robert Cavanah as her campaigning husband and Beth Park as the artful Abigail.
Even if history sometimes trumps drama, it is invigorating to see a play that, in the tradition of Schiller’s Mary Stuart, shows women exercising power.
- At The Swan, Stratford-upon-Avon, until 23 January. Box office: 01789 403 493.
