Sebastian Barry
Andersen’s English
To Dinah Wood
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Characters
Act One
Act Two
About the Author
By the Same Author
Copyright
Characters
Andersen
the writer, fifty-two and sixty-five
Dickens
the writer, forty-six
Catherine
his wife, plump, pretty, exhausted, forty-two
Walter
his second eldest son, sixteen
Kate
his daughter, nineteen
Georgie
Catherine’s younger sister, thirty
Aggie
a maid, Irish, sixteen
Ellen
an Irish actress, eighteen
Stefan
a young Danish friend of Andersen’s, eighteen
The part of Ellen is doubled by Kate, the part of Stefan by Walter
ANDERSEN’S ENGLISH
Act One
Downstage, Andersen sits reading a newspaper in the company of his young friend Stefan. It is part of Andersen’s room in Copenhagen, on the day of or after Charles Dickens’ death, June 1870.
Upstage in shadow are other figures in stillness, like a painting in a dark church.
Andersen (a newspaper) Poor Dickens dead, my dear Stefan. Most extraordinary, most sad. It brings back so many memories of my days with him in England. Long long ago, it seems, like in an old story, but it is only a dozen years ago.
Stefan To think of so great a man extinguished, gone from the earth.
Andersen It scarcely seems the same world, suddenly, without his presence in it. I had such great love for him, such reverence. I am shocked in my very soul to consider that he, a younger man, leaves the earth before me. Twelve years ago he was in the highest vigour of life. I myself felt tired and old already. My health was poor. My spirits were heavy. He treated me with the loving courtesy due an older brother. It is true that, though I wrote to him many times over the years, for some reason he never replied. But while I lived with him his care, his perspicuity were extraordinary, though his establishment was humble enough. There was a little maid, I remember, that showed me kindness. (Claps his hands.) I wonder what became of her? Of them all? Because of course, my dear Stefan, not long after I left them, the great cataclysm, the great revolution in Dickens’ life occurred.
Stefan Such a bouleversement had rarely been seen in the world of literature. And this great family storm brewing, you weren’t aware of it while you stayed among them?
Andersen It seemed like a paradise of human hearts. I suppose I was dimly aware of mysteries. But I did not suspect trouble so great, no, no. I wrote about my stay among them shortly after, and it seemed natural to describe them as happy. For, Stefan, their world there was sublime.
Stefan (stroking Andersen’s face) I have read those beautiful pages.
Andersen Now as I look back, I understand it better.
Stefan You sensed it, you sensed it, Andersen – with your accustomed and admirable sensitivity.
Andersen I sensed not enough. Such it is to have no language. So are the passions of intimates hidden from the stranger. Now all that world is taken away, Dickens and his wife Catherine, waiting for me in that enchanted house he named Gad’s Hill, as I toiled up from the little country station, burdened by my cases and, as ever, as ever, by my melancholy heart …
Stefan Dear Andersen.
Andersen And, and, dear Stefan, by my highly regrettable lack of English. Andersen’s English, my dear friend, a horror and a hindrance.
This fading, and the sound of a young woman singing a Thomas Moore song. It’s Kate, Dickens’ daughter; as she sings ‘Believe Me, if All Your Endearing Young Charms’ the scene gathers round her.
A provisional Victorian ‘room’ in Gad’s Hill Place, June 1857.
The garden suggested, a landscape of rooms and the real landscape, the distant sea, the snaking Thames, the marshes between.
Catherine Dickens is reading.
Georgina Hogarth, Catherine’s younger sister, seated, is sewing a ribbon on a child’s straw hat.
In the garden, Dickens is with his son Walter, sixteen.
Dickens Do you feel you have any particular aptitude whose existence I have neglected?
Walter No, Father.
Dickens There is no disgrace in that. In this age of wonders you might do many things without any particular gift.
Walter But, India, Papa? A soldier? I do not know what the heart of a soldier is. And every day in the newspaper we read of horrors there.
Dickens It is a blessed matter to go out upon the world as a young person. The highest good, the highest joy. To start to make your way in your profession. To catch the eye of some sweet, gentle girl. To begin, to begin. It is our human bliss. This time never to come again. I cannot provision my army of seven boys for ever, Walt. Think of the others away at school in France. They come up behind you like a tide.
Walter is weeping.
The sound of the Thomas Moore song being played on the piano somewhere in the house.
Kate sits at her easel.
Catherine What are you doing, sister?
Georgie Plorn needs a hat for Sunday service.
Dickens comes in, goes to the window and opens the curtains wider.
Dickens I think you will find it is traditional in England to open the curtains during the day. Was that you singing, Kate?
Catherine It was. And they are open, Charles.
Dickens We must have light, more light. I have written like a demon all day and now I am ready to be human again. (Looking out.) There is the porter from Higham station, carrying a box, a portmanteau and possibly a hatbox. And a most curious figure hobbling along behind him.
Catherine We are not expecting anyone.
Dickens (looking at Georgie) Putting black ribbons on hats is a deplorable pursuit.
Georgie rises and shepherds Dickens to his seat, watched by Catherine. Georgie puts a hand on Dickens’ shoulder.
The horrors of the English funeral, mourners in black, horses in black, and hatbands in black.
Georgie smiling at him.
Georgie It is not for a funeral, Charles, only for little Plorn to go to chapel in.
Dickens That is a different matter.
Kate I am attempting a portrait of Plorn in his Sunday suit. I am aware, Papa, that not spilling paint on the floor is more important to you than any artistry I might possess.
Dickens (turning about a little) How are you, Catherine?
Catherine I am very well.
Dickens You say you are well, and I am glad that you say it.
Catherine looks at him.
That was beautiful singing, beautiful singing.
A little maid, Aggie, comes in.
Aggie Sir, there is a gentleman come.
Dickens What is his name, Aggie?
Aggie He doesn’t know, sir.
Dickens Oh?
Aggie He’s just all gobbledygook, sir. I asked him for a card but I might as well have asked him where Jonah was.
Kate Where is Jonah?
Aggie Why, in the whale, miss.
Kate Oh.
Dickens He doesn’t know his own name by heart?
Aggie Seemingly not, sir. And then he was crying for a bit.
Dickens Why so?
Aggie Because I told him to go away, of course.
She hands Dickens some letters.
Andersen suddenly appears in the door.
He approaches Dickens.
Dickens A prowler, a poor vagabond? You seek some
thing, sir? But no, no, I know this face. It is …
Andersen kisses him on the face.
Oh!
Andersen (on the verge of tears) You – has – I am – so – (He openly weeps.)
Dickens … Andersen, Hans Andersen …
Andersen Train surging on road of iron – all this way my – stomach … (Describes eruption with his arms.) Vesuvius. I struggle, I sweat, but heart leap, I am in land of Dicken …
Catherine Dear Andersen, you are most welcome. You have appeared, like an angel.
Andersen stares.
Dickens Andersen, we are most profoundly glad to see you. I have the warmest of memories of your visit at Broadstairs. Do you remember? It was your last day in England, and you sat with us at our simple table, when all the children were small, and some did not even exist. This is my girl, Kate – you remember her, Andersen?
Andersen Ah, ah.
Dickens And I said to you, come and see us again at the earliest opportunity, and Andersen, you come, to our new house – ten years later. By my eyes.
Georgie He may have the nice room on the second landing, Aggie.
Catherine Let me do that work of directing where he will sleep.
Georgie Well, shall he go to another room, Catherine?
Catherine He may do well where you bid him go.
Dickens Yes. You will have a view of the old marshes, and the sea beyond, if the mist allows. And our River Thames. And there is a small graveyard there, I know, somewhere, because once as a boy I stood there with my father. I have made this little world, but do not know entirely where it is.
Andersen (fearful) Graveyard?
Dickens You will go with Aggie here? Go with Aggie? Will you bring him?
Aggie Yes, sir.
Andersen Oh, I declare my friendship, for you, dear Dicken. Farewell.
Dickens Farewell.
Andersen goes out with Aggie.
He reminds me of no one except himself and that must be a good thing. Will you be able to assimilate him, Georgie?
Catherine is about to speak.
Georgie Oh, I will have to be able.
Dickens Noble Georgie. (The letters.) Ah, ah, I read here, Andersen is to come today. Well, that is not news now. And here, this is in Wilkie Collins’ hand … (Opening a letter, scanning it, slumping in a chair.) Oh, dear, dear Lord.
Georgie What is it, Charles?
Dickens Oh, my dear, I find – Expected, of course, but – I – (He wipes his forehead.) Grief, palpable grief …
Georgie goes to him, Catherine watching.
My poor dear friend, Douglas Jerrold. He is dead, my dear.
Kate Oh, Papa, do not weep.
Light now on a guest room. Andersen is just outside the ‘door’, reading some framed writing. The voices below.
Andersen (reading, in his bad accent) ‘But my lads, my lads, tomorrow morning by four o’clock early, at Gad’s Hill, there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings …’ (To himself.) Noble Shakspeare … Noble Shakspeare …
He goes on into the room, smiling at first.
It is – cold …
Aggie (entering with some of his bags) There is no fire, sir, because you were not expected.
Andersen goes to the window to look out.
There’s no water neither in your basin. Your – yes – (looking) your pot, sir, is under the bed. I have to bring in a flame from another room to light your candle, sir.
Andersen immediately goes to the ‘bed’; he presses it for softness and is not convinced. Aggie dips back with her taper lit. She lights the candle with the taper. Soft light, and the softer light of the distant sea.
Andersen It is – hard. So cold, so cold.
Aggie I am sorry, sir. It is June, but it’s more like March, sir, isn’t it?
Andersen takes off his large-sized shoes and gratefully squeezes his feet.
He takes one of his bags and extracts a length of rope. He brings it to the window and leans out and lets down the rope.
What are you doing, sir?
Andersen If there is fire, girl, I climb down the rope.
Aggie That is unusual, sir.
Andersen Hermm?
Aggie To carry a rope for that purpose.
Andersen (defensively) It is also good for – horse.
Aggie You have a horse with you, sir?
Andersen No, no, I mean say – oh, English – wild horse.
Aggie Oh, of course, sir. You mean a runaway horse. Well, yes, a rope is a handy thing, sir – if you can catch it. But of course, that is the point of a runaway horse. You cannot.
Aggie feels a moment of faintness.
Oh.
Andersen What is matter?
Aggie I told cook I couldn’t eat nothing for breakfast. But cook said – but you don’t need to know what cook said, sir. Excusing me. (She goes.)
Andersen coils the rope again and lies on the bed with it.
Andersen (in Danish) Lord, give me good English to converse with beautiful Dickens, Amen.
A few moments pass, Andersen sleeping.
Light up on Dickens, dressed for dinner now, Georgie with him. He is reading the letter. While they speak, a table is being set for dinner beyond them, the candles lit etc.
Dickens Do you know, Georgie, I think he was one of the sweetest men that ever lived. Hard in his way, sardonical, because he was so brilliant, you know, but in his centre, sweet, oh, and endearing, infinitely. Poor Jerrold.
Georgie It is very sad.
Dickens Plorn will need the black ribbon for a funeral after all. One should be careful what one says. The gods are always listening.
Georgie They do seem attentive, yes.
Dickens Friend Wilkie says here that he is certain there will be no money left to Mrs Jerrold, and I tell you, we can do something about that. Why, I may do some readings, perhaps Thackeray will do likewise, I am sure he will, he is a man of good heart, I will write to him immediately – and myself and Kate, and Charlie and Walt, and Wilkie himself, might attempt again The Frozen Deep.
Georgie That is a certain, solid, money-making thing.
Adersen suddenly awakes, startled and unhappy, struggling with the rope, Aggie hurrying in.
Aggie What, sir?
Andersen (very distressed) Graveyard, graveyard. I am bury me alive.
Aggie No, no, sir. You’re among the living still.
Andersen (looking about, gripping her hand) Where I am, child?
Aggie In England, sir, at Gad’s Hill, at the house of Mr Dickens, sir.
Andersen Thank God, thank God.
Aggie Oh, yes, sir, thank God. So say all of us.
Dickens (with Georgie again) Of course he was not so old – a few mere years ahead of me … Fifty-four. In his prime. I will raise – two thousand pounds, that shall be my aim, and I will do it. Let there be grief certainly, let there be weeping, but also, doing, doing, Georgie. For there is no doubt, no doubt at all, he was a deep, deep friend, and I am made smaller, darker, stranger by his going.
Aggie (with Andersen again) You may put on your black shoes, sir. They do want you for dinner.
Andersen Hey, hey? Yes, yes, I come, I come.
Aggie Let me help you, sir. Now, now.
She slips on his shoes for him. Andersen is weeping.
Ah, why do you cry, sir? Here’s a handkerchief. I would bet a half-crown you have much finer than that, but where is it when you need it?
Andersen takes it, checks it for dirt, uses it.
He joins the others. Catherine brings him to his place. By now the table is suggested by light, candles lit. The garden breathes its cooling flowers. In the distance, the bells of churches. The landscape touched by the weakening sun. Kate, and the ‘figures’ of Mamie, the eldest son Charlie Junior, little Plorn (worked by the actors) and Walt in reality, a thrum and hum of family, Andersen introduced to the siblings, nodding and talking. Dickens strides forward to the table, joins the babble. There is a music that seems to be made
up of the voices, thrumming louder, the lights blazing brighter, as if the fact of family was swallowing everything, grief, time, real things. Then suddenly it quietens.
Dickens Dear Andersen – you are quite rested? Aggie has given you what you needed?
Andersen The bed was cold, dear Dickens, a little little.
Dickens Oh, I am terribly sorry if you were cold. I will remind Aggie to warm your bed tonight.
Catherine The bed was not warmed because of dear Mr Andersen’s unexpected arrival.
Dickens We must see ahead in matters of the household. We must peer into the future, and have water jars at the ready.
Catherine I am not quite sure why I am being upbraided about it. There is another to whom this task might be considered to have fallen. And who gets the praise when things go well.
Dickens Am I not correct in this, Georgie? Sit up straight, Charlie. Kate – fork. (Meaning to correct how she is holding it.)
Kate Father, I am nineteen. If I cannot hold my fork correctly by now, it is too late.
Dickens You will thank me when you are dining with princes.
Kate (humorously) I will dine only with savages if ever I leave here. It will be a rule with me.
Andersen The view touch me. Loveliness of England. Of this Kent. Gold river under sun and one black ship, then I – dreaming – graveyard, wake in coffin, alive, and me – (making gesture of scratching) lid …
Dickens By my eyes.
Andersen My English.
Dickens I understand you perfectly. Your English is excellent.
Andersen So, so? I am beautiful, happy.