The Plays of Charles Dickens

Today is the 214th birthday of Charles Dickens, which is as good a time as any to mention that my review of The Plays of Charles Dickens ran in the most recent issue of Dickens Quarterly.

Joanna Hofer-Robinson and Pete Orford edited this wonderful collection that includes both plays Dickens authored solo and collaborations he did with friends like Wilkie Collins, as well as prologues he wrote for plays including The Lighthouse and The Patrician's Daughter, and a closing scene he wrote for Elizabeth Inchbald's farce Animal Magnetism.

Dickens himself didn't always have a high opinion of his plays, and he came to regret writing the libretto to the operetta The Village Coquettes, which had music by John Pyke Hullah. His comic burletta The Strange Gentleman has some fun moments, but it is essentially the same as his prose sketch "The Great Winglebury Duel." Is She His Wife? is perhaps Dickens's most unlucky play, since it was after seeing it that his sister-in-law Mary Hogarth collapsed and later died. (Probably not from the play, though.)

Having all of Dickens's plays together with the in-depth notes provided by the editors is quite useful. In the early part of his career, Dickens went back and forth between the stage and the page. His play The Lamplighter, for instance, was originally penned for William Charles Macready, but after the actor rejected it, Dickens turned it into a short story for Sketches by Boz. Dickens also wrote with his friend Mark Lemon a farce called Mr. Nightingale's Diary, which included characters suspiciously similar to ones in Pickwick Papers and Martin Chuzzlewit.

Perhaps Dickens's most famous play today is The Frozen Deep, a melodrama officially authored by Collins, but very much a collaboration between the two authors. Dickens supplied the subject for the play, Collins wrote the first draft, and then Dickens substantially reworked it, tailoring the part of Richard Wardour for himself. He indeed played the role in an amateur performance, and then for a charity production, where he met his future love, Ellen Ternan. (You can read about the two of them in my own play, Capital.)

More successful in his own lifetime was another melodrama he wrote with Collins, No Thoroughfare, which was based on a tale the two had written together and published in the journal All the Year Round. The editors of The Plays of Charles Dickens note that Dickens even wrote an alternate ending to the play for a French production, though sadly it is not included in the book.

Happy Birthday, Charles Dickens!

Today is the 211th birthday of author Charles Dickens, and I am happy to announce that I will be part of an upcoming streaming program on The Pickwick Papers, Dickens's first novel, which is imminently theatrical and has been adapted for the stage numerous times.

As readers of this blog know, Dickens had numerous connections to the stage and was a close friend of the actor William Charles Macready. In his home at Tavistock House, Dickens even staged amateur versions of The Lighthouse and The Frozen Deep by his friend Wilkie Collins.

The Pickwick Papers was originally published in monthly installments as The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club. It came out once a month from March 1836 to October 1837. Now, the Rosenbach Museum and Library in Philadelphia will be starting a show about the book that will stream live once per month, each episode corresponding with a different original installment of the novel.

Noted scholar Edward G. Pettit and a rotating set of Dickensian co-hosts will talk about each serialized part once a month from March 2023 to October 2024.  If you tune in, you'll be able to relive the story just as Dickens's first readers did, one piece at a time. I'll be one of the co-hosts, though it hasn't been decided yet which months. You can see a list of dates the show will be airing and get more information here.

 

Known as Pickwick Monthly, the show will be free for anyone to watch--live or recorded--on the Rosenbach’s YouTube channel. The library is asking people to register to receive monthly email updates, plus get links to PDFs of the original serial as it was published with illustrations and advertisements. Yes, the Rosenbach has in its collections the complete serial issues of The Pickwick Papers, along with a portion of the book's manuscript, first editions, letters, a lock of Charles Dickens's hair... you name it! 

 

The first episode of the program will stream live next month on March 25. Subsequent episodes will air on the third or fourth Saturday of each month until October 19, 2024. I hope you can join us!

Animal Magnetism

Elizabeth Inchbald made her playwriting debut with The Mogul Tale in 1784, but her 1788 play Animal Magnetism had a longer-lasting influence on the stage.

There have been multiple stagings of the play in recent years, including one done last year at St. Hugh's College, Oxford and now available to watch on YouTube. I got to see a different staging tonight, which was performed by the Red Bull Theater Company at the Players Club and streamed online.

José Zayas, who directed my adaptation of Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol in Saratoga Springs directed the staged reading for Red Bull, so I knew it would be well done. I also knew it would feature Carson Elrod, who has shone brilliantly in past Red Bull productions, including The Alchemist.

Like The Mogul Tale, Inchbald's Animal Magnetism is a farce that draws inspiration from the science of the late-eighteenth century. In The Mogul Tale, Inchbald portrays aeronauts who ascend in a balloon in England and (apparently after getting caught in a jet stream) come down in India. Her later farce deals instead with mesmerism, which was called at the time animal magnetism.

Today, we equate mesmerism with hypnosis, but Franz Mesmer—who originated the practice—believed he was manipulating an invisible fluid that penetrates all organisms. In Inchbald's play, the quack Doctor Mystery describes it this way:

This fluid is like a river, that—that—runs—that—goes—that—gently glides—so—so—so—while there is nothing to stop it.—But if it en|counters a mound or any other impediment—boo—boo—boo—it bursts forth—it overflows the country round—throws down villages, hamlets, houses, trees, cows and lambs; but remove obstacles which obstruct its course, and it begins again, softly and sweetly to flow—thus—thus—thus—the fields are again adorned, and every thing goes on, as well as it can go on.

Doctor Mystery, however, is actually La Fleur, the valet of a marquis who loves the play's heroine. He performs fake deeds of mesmerism in order to foil the heroine's guardian. Needless to say, the marquis and the heroine end up together, and La Fleur gains the affections of her maid.

Much of the play's humor comes from the two women pretending to be under the influence of mesmerism. Dickens, who practiced mesmerism himself, found the play hysterical, and it was frequently performed alongside his friend Wilkie Collins's play The Frozen Deep.

Animal Magetism is based on a French play, Le Médecin Malgré tout le monde by Antoine-Jean Bourlin (Dumaniant). It is not Inchbald's only adaptation, though. Perhaps her most famous play, Lovers' Vows, was adapted from a melodrama by August von Kotzebue.

Dickens Lights the Stage

Today is the 209th birthday of Charles Dickens. Though the plays Dickens wrote were never as popular as his novels, he enjoyed the theatre enormously, and frequently presented private theatricals in his own home.

I've previously written about The Frozen Deep, a play by Wilkie Collins that Dickens substantially rewrote, directed, and starred in at his home, and then for the general public in order to raise money for charity.

The Frozen Deep wasn't the only Collins play Dickens produced, however. Two years prior to that, Dickens staged at his home of Tavistock House another Collins melodrama, this one called The Lighthouse. Calling himself "Mr. Crummles" after the character from Nicholas Nickleby, Dickens took on the role of the "lessee and manager" of "the smallest theatre in the world" according to this playbill printed up for the event:

Clarkson Stanfield, who later provided some of the scenery for The Frozen Deep, painted the scenes for The Lighthouse, and a drop used for the performance later ended up at the Charles Dickens Museum in London:

Collins appeared in the production as well, along with Dickens's friends Mark Lemon and Augustus Egg, and a slew of Dickens family members. Dickens also wrote the words to a ballad that accompanied the play.

The Victorians rarely went to see only one play at a time, and it was customary to conclude each evening of theatre with a farce that would send the audience home in a good mood. The farce for that performance was Mr. Nightingale's Diary, a one-act play Dickens had written together with Lemon.

With COVID-19 still keeping professional theatres closed, perhaps we should revive the tradition of private theatricals. Unfortunately, few of us happen to live in a bubble with people as talented as Dickens, Collins, and Stanfield!

Painting the Scene

I've been reading James Laver's book Drama - Its Costume and Décor. Though the book was originally published back in 1951, it still contains a lot of wonderful insights.

One of the more interesting figures Laver profiles is Phillipe Jacques de Loutherbourg, a painter from Alsace who came to London and designed sets for Drury Lane. It was de Loutherbourg who moved the candle lights behind the proscenium, finally forcing British actors, who preferred acting on the apron of the stage, behind the proscenium as well. He also used transparent and semi-transparent scenery pieces that could be lit from behind, so in a de Loutherbourg set you might have a night sky with a moon that actually glowed.

His scenic designs tended to use bright colors, so much so that the painter Thomas Gainsborough objected to his work, and asked David Garrick, who ran Drury Lane, to return to more "mild" backdrops. After Richard Brinsley Sheridan took over the theatre, he kept de Loutherbourg, having the skilled painter design a number of the sets for his own plays. Sheridan, however, was not an easy man to work for, and the painter found an alternative outlet for his skills.

That outlet was the Eidophusikon, a small stage with perfect lighting and brilliant sound effects, and best of all, no actors! Audiences could enjoy all the brilliance of theatrical design without having to sit through a boring old play. The fad lasted a couple of years, before de Loutherbourg moved into landscape painting, which had probably been his true calling anyway.

His masterful depictions of the outdoors ushered in a new era, in which scenic designers would no longer be architects but landscape painters. The backcloth came to dominate the entire stage, with side-wings all but disappearing.

The early nineteenth century ushered in a whole new generation of scenic designers who followed the lead set by de Loutherbourg. These included William Clarkson Stanfield, Inigo Richards, William Grieve, and William Telbin.

Stanfield is best known as a marine painter, and he created a number of nautical sets for London theatres. Even after he officially abandoned painting for the theatre in 1834, he continued to design scenery for William Macready as a personal favor. He also designed scenery for some of the amateur theatricals Charles Dickens staged at Tavistock House. The sets for acts two and three of The Frozen Deep were Stanfield's handiwork.

Richards mainly worked at Covent Gardens, where he was known for his sets depicting medieval ruins. Incidentally, his brother-in-law was the actor Thomas Wignell, who left Britain for the U.S. and became one of our important early actors. Richards might even have supplied the design for the Chestnut Street Theatre in Philadelphia.

Grieve is probably best known for his set for Robert le Diable. After the opera was performed in London, the audience reportedly demanded that Grieve himself take a curtain call for the set design.

Telbin frequently worked on the (mostly) historically accurate productions of Charles Kean, but like de Loutherbourg he also dreamed of a "pure" scenic design, and experimented with dioramas.

I wish I could get some images of their work to share on my blog. Maybe I'll find some soon!

The Frozen Deep

 In Gothic fiction, the villain inevitably plays a prominent role in the story. Manfred in The Castle of Otranto, Montoni in The Mysteries of Udolpho, and Ambrosio in The Monk all capture the imaginations of the reader. Because Gothic villains are so much more fascinating than the heroes and lovers, it was only a matter of time before the villains themselves became the heroes. Rising above the sanctioned lover, the villain-figure became endorsed by later Gothic writers. This shift can be seen in the portrayal of Richard Wardour in Wilkie Collins's play The Frozen Deep.

Collins establishes Wardour as the Gothic villain in the first two acts of the play (a piece credited to him alone, though in many respects a collaboration with Charles Dickens). The character of Wardour stands in opposition to the lovers' happiness. He even appears to be a potential murderer. In the third act, however, the Gothic villain becomes a selfless martyr. Through his actions, he redeems another man's life, as well as his own soul.

The 1857 melodrama has many trappings of the Gothic. It takes place in the frozen wasteland that is the setting for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Captain of the 'Pole-Star'" and the frame story of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. The self-professed Scottish seer Nurse Esther adds an element of the supernatural, with constant warnings of impending doom. Throughout the piece, Collins plays upon the audience's sense of fear. This reaches its climax in a highly Gothic situation: the hero alone with his murderous enemy while no one else is around.

In the first act, Richard Wardour is described repeatedly as the childhood "playmate" of the heroine, Clara. He is the son of a neighbor who is a good friend of her father. This gives a pseudo-incestuous quality to his love for Clara. Just as Wardour begins to step out of the bounds of being a brotherly playmate, Clara is faced with the death of her father. Like Emily in Udolpho, she must face the frightening world of adult sexuality alone.

Wardour steals a kiss from Clara, then heads out to sea. There he hopes to increase in wealth and rank enough to be worthy of her hand in marriage. During his absence, Clara falls in love with Frank Aldersley, and becomes engaged to him. When Wardour returns, he expects Clara to become his wife, and when he finds out that she is engaged, falls into fury and despair. He threatens Clara's fiancee, without learning his name, then departs to sea again on an arctic expedition. By chance, Aldersley is aboard the second ship on the expedition. It seems only a matter of time before Wardour discovers Aldersley's identity, and attempts to destroy him.

When the expedition results in a shipwreck, both men become leaders of the freezing, starving mariners. The second act takes place in a hut in the frozen deep where the surviving members of the crew are struggling to stay alive. Wardour appears as a vengeful fanatic. "There is a day of Reckoning appointed between us," he says of himself and his unknown rival. To Wardour, the rest of his life is meaningless, except for that day.

Wardour begins to suspect Aldersley when he notices carvings he has made in the crow's nest, now being chopped up for firewood. He does not act upon his suspicions, however, until they are confirmed. The men decide to send a party out to get help. Aldersley is chosen for the party, while Wardour is selected to stay and help tend to the wounded. When Wardour confirms Aldersley's identity as Clara's fiancee, he volunteers for a slot that opens in the exploring party. The second act closes with the two men going out into the wilderness together, with the implication that Wardour will murder his rival.

When the third act opens, the explorers have been rescued and taken to Newfoundland. The exploration party returned to the camp before the rescue, and only two brave sailors, Wardour and Aldersley, continued to search for help. These two are the only members of the crew still left missing. When Wardour returns, he appears to be mad, and is accused of murdering Frank Aldersley. Lieutenant Crayford thinks that he looks "conscience-stricken" and urges him to confess his crime. Instead, when he sees Clara, Wardour rushes off stage. Crayford thinks he is trying to escape, until Wardour rushes back on, carrying the limp but living body of Frank Aldersley.

Wardour explains that he saved his rival's life in spite of the temptation to slay or abandon him.  Wardour went so far as to save half of his food and drink for Aldersley, all done for the sake of Clara, the woman who spurned him.  "Saved, saved for you!" he cries when he brings Clara her fiancee. Having endured unspeakable hardships to preserve his rival for the woman he loves, Wardour collapses of exhaustion and dies.

Aspects of Wardour can be seen to some extent in other works by Wilkie Collins. In The Woman in White, the hero Walter Heartright is rejected by his love, and like Wardour, then heads out for the sea. Franklin Blake in The Moonstone is a thief, but only because he is unknowingly acting under the influence of opium. These similarities seem mere technicalities. Both Heartright and Blake are free of the dark qualities of mind expressed by Wardour.

However, The Frozen Deep is in many ways as much a work of Charles Dickens as of Wilkie Collins. Dickens edited, produced, and starred in the premiere production of 1857. The role of Richard Wardour was "created" by Dickens in more than one sense of the word, as Dickens not only first played the part, he seems to have come up with the story of the play in the first place. 

By 1856, Dickens had become increasingly frustrated with what he saw as the bounds of conventional morality in fiction. He felt that his own heroes were unnaturally good, and he wanted to portray a hero with serious inner conflicts. This new hero, however, would still remain faithful to his ideals. The Frozen Deep allowed him to portray this hero-villain both through acting and through his careful attention to Collins's script, which he edited heavily.

Dickens's production of the play was an overwhelming success. It proved that audiences would not just tolerate, but could be moved by a hero-villain like Wardour. It may have been this success that prompted Dickens to create one of his most beloved characters, Sydney Carton. In A Tale of Two Cities, Carton experiences inner conflict, but ultimately sacrifices his life to save the husband of the woman he loves. The parallels with Wardour are obvious. 

While traces of the hero may be found in the villains of early Gothic novels, convention prevented authors from blurring the lines in the final analysis of the character. Ambrosio in The Monk is ultimately a doomed necromancer, and Doctor Frankenstein an equally doomed though repentant mad scientist. In the 19th century, however, it became possible for authors like Dickens to create a new hybrid of hero and villain. 

Wardour becomes like a usurper who then hands over the castle to the heroine. His love for Clara transcends his jealousy. Though hardly Christ-like, Wardour gives up his own life for another in an act of redemption. This Christ-like act comes from a character traditionally associated with evil. In this way, Collins and Dickens subvert the paradigm of the Gothic, and suggest that there is salvation even for the villains.
 

The Invisible Woman

Last night I had the good fortune to attend a screening of Ralph Fiennes' new film The Invisible Woman about the relationship between Charles Dickens and the young actress Ellen Ternan. Like Fiennes' last film as a director, Coriolanus, it was a wonderful concept and a perfect part for Fiennes. As with Coriolanus, the execution was not all I'd hoped for... but hello! Somebody made a movie about Nellie Ternan!

My favorite parts were when the film dealt with The Frozen Deep, a play credited to Wilkie Collins but virtually co-written by Dickens. The original production was done in Dickens's own home, with his daughters in starring roles. It was such a success that the amateur theatricals decided to stage it publicly for charity. Of course, Dickens wasn't about to have his daughters act upon a public stage. What to do? Hire professional actresses, of course!

It was during the production of The Frozen Deep that Dickens and Ternan first met, and thereon hangs a tale (and now a movie). That production, however, was legendary. The scenic effects were much commented upon at the time, and the film faithfully reproduces what the set looked like according to period illustrations. Hearing Felicity Jones deliver the play's epilogue as Ternan was a real treat.

And as if one Dickens play wasn't enough, the movie also showed a school production of No Thoroughfare. This was a remarkable melodrama credited to both Dickens and Collins, though Collins seems to have written the play by himself. However, it is based on a novella that the two great authors did write together. It was by far the most successful play billing Dickens as a playwright that he had during his lifetime.

Later this week, I'll have to write more about Dickens as dramatist. Meanwhile, feast your eyes on this delicious movie poster: