A large audience was treated to a delightfully witty walk down literary memory lane on Saturday at Dunedin Public Library in A Rare Public Appearance by Miss Georgette Heyer.

Researched, written and presented by Dunedin actor Terry MacTavish, in the persona of the acerbic Heyer, known as the “queen of Regency romance”, the event marked the 50th anniversary of the author’s death. …

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At 2pm on 12 October, Miss Georgette Heyer appeared 50 years after her demise, in a remarkable reincarnation in Dunedin, New Zealand. An audience of ladies of a certain age – for the most part – and a handful of gentlemen awaited her arrival in the Dunningham Suite at Dunedin’s Library in Moray Place. A cloth-covered table, several chairs and a screen placed at left, where Miss Heyer’s cast could don apparel designed to represent some of her many characters, were all that was necessary for the set.

There she came. Attired in splendid wide-brimmed hat, fox fur draped over one shoulder, gloves and understated elegant clothing, she stood before us, her speaking eyes raking this gathering of her fans. This was no ghostly spirit. Instead, Miss Heyer occupied the mind and body of distinguished thespian Terry MacTavish, and there was no doubt who was in control of proceedings. Immediately she expressed her scorn of mindless admiration: the audience might prove worthy recipients of her attention, but then again, might not. At the outset she preferred to reserve judgement. She was quick to describe her frustration with the public’s preference for her Regency romance novels, rather than the serious historical study set in the Middle Ages which she yearned to complete. She identified Baroness Orczy and Jeffrey Farnol as novelists whose work influenced her own, particularly early in her career.

Naturally enough, she introduced her first novel, The Black Moth, published when she was only seventeen. It was an immediate success, but while Miss Heyer felt it showed promise, lamented its lack of more interesting heroines. She enlisted the services of two supporting players, Kimberley Buchan and Dylan Shield, to present this novel’s climactic scene. They entered the acting space from behind the screen, suitably attired. Diana, the heroine, has been abducted by the dastardly Duke of Andover  and while resisting his designs, seems helpless to save herself. She can only await the arrival of a rescuer. Following this tableau, Miss Heyer had plenty to say about the shortcomings of her two actors (who were appreciated by the audience), but conceded that New Zealand was not the place to produce the standards she expected.

Proceeding to continue with the course of her writing career, she was quick to dismiss her four novels with contemporary (1920s) settings. She was sure she had included too much of herself in them – especially in the case of Helen, in which the titular character was even a writer like herself. She made it clear that suppression was the only fate they deserved, but did read an extract (from Helen) about the challenges of resuming writing after a bereavement. This derived from her personal experience, Miss Heyer explained, for she was obliged to keep writing after her beloved father’s sudden death, given that she was the only member of her immediate family with significant earning capacity. She attributed her decision, soon after her father’s death, to marry Ronald Rougier to his being a great and supportive friend – rather than to any (to her mind soppy) romantic sentiments of the kind she abhorred in fiction far inferior to her own.

Miss Heyer pointed out that as she became more experienced as a writer, her fictional heroines grew in independence and resourcefulness. To illustrate, she ushered in the scene in Devil’s Cub in which the heroine shoots the hero when he threatens her. This particular hero is a contrast to the gentleman who rescued the unfortunate Diana in The Black Moth. Miss Heyer defined several hero types who appear in her novels. First there was her Mark 1, a dashing hero tamed by the love of a good woman, very similar to Mr Rochester being tamed by Jane Eyre. The Mark 2 hero was enigmatic, suave and spoilt. Her first brand of heroine tended to be headstrong and wild, whereas the second type was quiet and plain, much like Jane Eyre herself. She referred to her admiration for Jane Austen, who (as Miss Heyer noted) produced the best writing of the period in which the latter set many of her novels. There was also Jenny Chawleigh from A Civil Contract, who was a different heroine again – a woman who seems real to readers, is down to earth, plain and self-sacrificing. The author stressed her own versatility in creating such a wide range of characters and also by producing detective fiction. However, her returns from that genre were only half what she earned from Regency romances, and thus she gave her public what they preferred.

In this vein she presented two scenes from The Talisman Ring: the first showed young, romantic Frenchwoman Eustacie (played with fresh charm and a delightful Gallic accent by Kim Buchan) meeting prosaic, matter of fact Sir Tristram Shield. They discover they are completely unsuited, but he is determined to keep his promise to her grandfather that they will marry. Later, Sir Tristram meets seasoned Sarah Thane. Her understanding of his predicament where Eustacie is concerned and her remarkable sense of humour soon identify her as the match for him. In a scene adapted from the end of the novel, Sarah (Kim again after a quick change) and Sir Tristram (played by his local namesake, Dylan Shield, as Heyer noted) revealed that they will not marry for convenience, but for love.

While she chafed at being overlooked by the critics and dismissed for writing that pleased general tastes, Miss Heyer pointed out that her sales success, and that of other bestselling writers such as Ian Fleming and Agatha Christie, actually provided the financial foundation essential to establish literary awards such as the Booker Prize.

Some of her later heroes, like Hugo Darracott (The Unknown Ajax), include new traits. Because his Sussex relations look down on his Yorkshire roots, he adopts a broad regional brogue as a practical joke at their expense. Miss Heyer required Dylan Shield to deliver a few of Hugo’s lines in that vernacular, before dismissing his rendition as just what she would expect of an Antipodean. On the other hand, the audience appreciated both his creditable Yorkshire accent and her characteristic rebuff.

Without missing a beat she went on to explain that the character of beautiful gambling addict Lady Denville in False Colours was written with Dame Anna Neagle in mind. That actress was married to a film producer, but even so no worthy film adaptation of any of her novels appeared. She performed the scene from False Colours in which Lady Denville traps her swain, the magnificently named Sir Bonamy Ripple, into matrimony. She gazed meltingly into the eyes of her fox fur’s mask with maximum comic effect, before abandoning that part to deal with a movie made using the title of her (much earlier) novel, The Reluctant Widow. Unfortunately the film bore next to no resemblance to her book, for her heroine was made into a bad-girl role for Jean Kent. Miss Heyer’s interaction with the film industry was unhappy.

Having unbent a little in her opinion of her audience’s intelligence by this stage, she confided that she could be wrong on occasion. Her initial objections to her son Richard’s chosen partner – a divorcee – had erred. She was happy to concede that Suzy won her over and charmed her family. On the subject of her own only child, she mentioned Richard’s departure at a young age to boarding school, saying it was usual practice at the time, although she hinted she had to learn to know him better subsequently. She adopted the voice of young Felix Merriville (in Frederica) with his inquiring mind, inventive interests and engaging conversation to prove she knew how very young gentlemen behaved and spoke. Still, she was clear about never wanting more children and confessed that the physical side of marriage was not a high priority for her. If Ronald’s eye happened to rove in the direction of what she termed ‘his floozies’, she said she looked the other way, so confident was she that he would always love and remain with her.

In many of her later novels, hero and heroine engage in a ‘merry war’. A prime example was Venetia. The two actors enacted the scene in which Venetia meets Lord Damerel, whose reputation as a rake has preceded him. In an ingenious piece of stage business, Venetia’s small dog, Flurry, was played by a canine toy, whose moves and barks were supplied by Miss Heyer personally. Who could forget the participation of the many canines who romp through the pages of her novels? She listed such memorable examples as Ulysses, Bouncer and Lufra, the ‘Baluchistan hound’ in Frederica, who brings such chaos to London parks and streets. She left no doubt that dogs were essential companions in her personal life, and confirmed she had threatened to bring her huge Irish wolfhound to a proposed interview with a journalist at the Savoy Hotel in London. Of course, that meeting never eventuated; nor did other approaches to her to meet the media.

She was at pains to emphasise the fact that she regarded her characters’ accuracy of speech and vocabulary very seriously. We learnt her substantial personal collection of 2000 books included Pierce Egan’s Life in London, just one title among many sheconsultedto ensure her characters lived and spoke in ways appropriate to their backgrounds. She advised that dozens of terms existed to describe being drunk, listed examples, and referred to her research of boxing cant too. She employed many such expressions in her writing and was enraged by anyone who dared to purloin them for their own ends, often exposing their ignorance by inaccurate use.

This brought Miss Heyer to the subject of Barbara Cartland’s imitations of her work. Such blatant plagiarism infuriated her. To make her point, she read the ending of one of Cartland’s effusions, sending up its cliches and ellipses (especially the repeated application of three dots) unmercifully. Cartland’s publication ended up at the end of one of Miss Heyer’s well-shod feet and disappeared under the table. To drive home its inferiority, she contrasted it with her own novel, Friday’s Child. She had her cast enact Lord Sheringham’s hapless proposal to beautiful Isabella Milborne when the plot begins. His inept application for her hand in marriage was summarily rejected, Isabella having discovered his eye to her money, but then another encounter changes everything. Sherry sees his childhood friend Hero Wantage (after another quick change by Kim Buchan), who is running away from an unwanted match. Her artlessness and his ease in her company mean that they decide to tie the knot to their mutual advantage. The freshness of their conversation and the humour arising from exploding cliched romantic tropes made their creator’s point. For Regency romance and entertaining reading she had no peer.

While she professed reservations about her two actors and their embodiment of her characters, that was to be expected from an exacting author. Their rapid transformations, responses to the demands of varied characters and excellent comedic timing added much to the occasion. While Miss Heyer might disapprove of their management of various accessories, they proved more than equal to what she demanded.

Finally, Miss Heyer felt she could share with the audience the only fan letter she treasured. She explained that a Rumanian political prisoner wrote to her after a period of eight years’ incarceration. During her imprisonment Nora Samuelli had been denied all reading material.  Previously, though, she had more or less memorised Friday’s Child. She recited it verbatim many times to allow other inmates and herself a few hours’ escape from grim reality. This touching anecdote needed no elaboration. It brought to a close the audience’s encounter with a faithful reincarnation with a favourite, yet formidable author.

This presentation, devised, impeccably researched and written by Terry MacTavish entertained and enchanted an audience in the presence of literary and comic supremacy. Miss MacTavish became Georgette Heyer. That being so, she intends to safeguard the resurrected Miss Heyer with whom she is so closely acquainted. Surely she will appear on stage again to ensure another audience finds its place at her feet.

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