Andersen's English, Page 2

Dickens (to Charlie) All is well at the magazine, Charlie?

  Charlie It is sometimes confusing work, Papa.

  Dickens Household Words, Andersen, where things familial find their most ardent defenders, where the poetry of the hearth is set forth: a man, a woman and their offspring, gathered in a peaceful group in this eternal England. Charlie has just begun in this work and I have high hopes for his efficiency in it.

  Catherine I am so proud of him, Mr Andersen. Such a good, diligent boy.

  Dickens Kate of course is painting.

  Kate (humorously) I-am-painting. That’s Kate.

  Catherine Charles, I am thinking.

  Dickens (a touch impatiently) Yes?

  Catherine Was it not just the other week you saw poor Douglas?

  Dickens Indeed, yes.

  Catherine And how was he then – I seem to remember you noticing he was unwell? I ask because of course he was my friend also.

  Dickens Yes, Catherine. He was unwell that day. And all week I was receiving reports from his London friends. As of a ship sailing onto the rocks. We know not the time nor the place, eh, Andersen?

  Andersen (startled) Excuse?

  Dickens It is our little lot as humans. The penalty for the gift of life. I say it lightly but mean it seriously. Boys, girls, carpe diem, bathe to your ears in the sweet water of youth.

  Georgie I am sure youth characterises you still, Charles.

  Catherine I am sure, I am sure.

  Dickens Well, I thank you. Vigour is still mine, thank God. And yet I will not exult in life when poor Douglas now has gone under the waves. It was the day, Catherine, that Russell was to read from his Crimean journal – do you know his writings, Andersen? He was a newspaperman for The Times at the Crimea, a wonderful man, an Irishman of distinction – well, we were going about together, and Jerrold was showing Russell how one should read to the public, because he had heard him on a previous occasion, and did not think Russell understood the secret, but was generously going to show him the secret, and every now and then Jerrold was complaining of some inward pain, in a very nice, unaffected manner. He said some fresh paint had been put on his study window the day before, and he suspected the fumes had poisoned him, and he felt seedy. But we went out to Greenwich together before the reading, and his spirits were waxing and waning, and the three of us walked up to the top of Shooter’s Hill, and by heavens we marked out Inkerman on the ground – (does so on the table) where the Second Division lay in the scrub –

  As he speaks Aggie is drawn more and more into the narrative.

  – in this instance, these napkins, and the Russian land army coming along at them in the fog – that is to say, this great serving plate – and the great horde of troops out of Sebastopol itself, and the British and French armies ready together, and from six in the morning enduring the pounding of the Russian barrage, and then all violence and death till half past three, when at last the Russians were driven back, and five Victoria Crosses that day for the soldiers, by God … Irish soldiers, Aggie, because they always put the Irish in the front line. They are considered excellent soldiers for bearing the brunt of an attack.

  Aggie Oh! Brave boys!

  Georgie Thank you, Aggie.

  Dickens Yes, Aggie, and by then as you may imagine, Jerrold was so excited, and jumping about, all vigour and life, as I was myself, and Russell laughing at us, and Jerrold declared he had quite got over the paint. And then he was all head back and laughing at some nonsense I was speaking, in our old manner, and we were as easy as chairs. But it was only the start of a week of enormous suffering for him. His fine white hair and his frail hands, that is what I remember. Wilkie says he was eloquent, brave and admirable to the last.

  Georgie Oh, Charles.

  Kate Poor Papa.

  Walter They say there were two thousand of our soldiers killed that day, and twenty thousand Russians.

  Charlie Huzza!

  Dickens Yes, yes, Walt – and Russell himself the next morning, marvelling at the number of Russians lying there. How vividly he read that night, after Jerrold had set him straight. And Jerrold, Jerrold, Black Ey’d Susan, the most natural nautical English play since Shakespeare’s Tempest. (To Walt.) When you are an old man, Walt, they will still be playing that in England.

  Walter Am I to be an old man, Papa? I did not know.

  Catherine puts a hand on his sleeve.

  Catherine My dear.

  Dickens Oh yes, Walt, I hope so.

  Andersen (nodding) Ah, Shakspeare, noble Shakspeare …

  Dickens And noble Jerrold. Noble, gentle Jerrold. Let us raise our glasses, my dears, to a delicate, happy and much-missed man.

  They raise their glasses and drink. Andersen thinks he is being drunk to, and rises.

  Andersen Thank you, dear, dear Dickens – it is – mountain – high, high love – that feel me … And to your back I say – skaal! – long life.

  Walter He was not drinking to …

  Dickens Long life indeed. (Sternly looking at Walt.) Walter, as you are going out to India in a few days, you must learn discretion.

  Catherine Charles, do not say so lightly that he is going. To that terrifying place. No, no, forgive me. (A moment.) Charles, maybe Mr Andersen while he is here would like to see the Crystal Palace? I am going there myself next week, and might find him a ticket if he wished – they are to give The Messiah, with a choir of two thousand souls.

  Dickens Well, that is an awful lot of singing. I am afraid I will be much in town now myself, if I am to make arrangements for Jerrold’s family. At least there are only five children. It was my fate to have so great a crowd of them, Andersen, that I meet them in the corridors in the night, and think I have prowlers. One night I may shoot one.

  Mamie Papa …

  Catherine I hope you would not kill one of our children.

  Dickens Of course not, madam – since it was you made them in the first place. It’s just that you made so many.

  Kate (quite sternly) You would be quite lost without us, Papa.

  Catherine And I would be married then to a murderer, and I would not like that.

  Dickens (a moment) Andersen, cricket? You look like a bowler. Look – like – a – bowler.

  Andersen (puzzling the words) Bowler?

  Dickens does the action of the bowler.

  Dickens Howzat?

  Andersen Ah, yes, yes, Dicken – the cricket. Oh, oh, I am – athlete with no hope. Bear. Goose.

  Catherine He must have his Prince Albert pudding before he plays cricket.

  Dickens In earlier years, Andersen, Catherine was the finest female silly mid-on in England.

  Catherine Is that a compliment?

  Dickens It is intended as such. (Gathering himself.) Pudding before cricket for you, Andersen. (Agitated.) I find it hard to sit tonight. Forgive me, Georgina, I must go out instanter. Send out the boys when you have puddinged them up.

  Catherine You won’t wait?

  Georgie He cannot wait, Catherine.

  Dickens (going) I cannot. I cannot.

  Walter Cannot we go with him, Aunt Georgie?

  Plorn I want to play cricket.

  Georgie I think you might, just this evening.

  Catherine Georgina, it will be better for their stomachs if they wait.

  Georgie If Charles can do some violent action with the cricket bat, he will be assuaged a little. He is so shocked by Jerrold’s death.

  Catherine He was also my friend when I was young.

  Georgie Of course, Catherine, I understand.

  Catherine You do not understand. Or rather, I do not understand. I do not understand.

  Georgie Walt, take your little brother. He can go out also. It is beautifully warm and pleasant.

  Kate Is there any chance I might steal Plorn for an hour? It is so much easier to draw from life.

  Catherine What did you say, Kate?

  Kate I really did not say anything, Mama. I was thinking out loud, and not very fascinating thoughts. Ignore me.


  Georgie (to Walter) Go, go.

  Walter Yes, Aunt. Well – (Ceremoniously.) Well, Mr Andersen, we would be most awfully blessed and happy to have your company outside.

  Andersen What, what?

  Catherine Good boy, Walt, but let Mr Andersen stay here. (To Andersen.) The poor child – he is practising to be a grown man. But he is not, Georgie, he is not.

  Georgie Run away out, Walt, with Plorn, and raise the rooks in the beech trees.

  Walter We will, Aunt. We will bombard them like Russians.

  Walt kisses his mother.

  Catherine Dear Walter.

  Walter (a moment) If you’d rather I stayed here with you, Mama, I could easily forgo cricket. I am also very fond of Prince Albert pudding. It is a speciality of Mama’s, Mr Andersen. Did you know Mama has written a lovely cooking book?

  Catherine starts to cry.

  Georgie Away out, away out.

  Walter (dismayed) Yes, Aunt.

  Plorn Don’t forget me, Walt.

  Walter Silly mid-off for you, Plorn.

  Catherine (to Andersen) My poor Walt is to go to India in a very few days. A country heaving with rebellion. He is being sent out to learn to be a soldier.

  Andersen Oh?

  Georgie It will set him up in life.

  The sounds of cricket off.

  Catherine It is like going to the edge of the known world in an old story. I do love the boy so much. I fear it may kill me to see him go.

  Dickens (appearing) Bring us out tea when you come, ladies. It will be something to wash that terrible cold soup out of my mouth.

  Catherine Cold soup in France tastes different than in England. Why ever so, I could not say.

  Georgie Hush, the soup was perfect soup.

  Andersen (holding his stomach, to Catherine) I think, dear lady, stomach – surge. I must go to my place where sleep …

  Catherine Poor, poor Andersen. You see, Georgie, it was not good soup.

  Andersen stumbles into the dark guest room and takes the chamber pot desperately and, on the other side of the bed, hurriedly unhitches his trousers.

  Andersen Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

  Andersen groaning and shivering, the sound of Dickens and the children playing at their cricket, the light failing in the branches of the beech trees, the boys laughing and calling, Dickens energetically playing, shouting, instructing. The sound of the piano, playing Mendelssohn.

  Now Dickens visible, bowling to his unseen son.

  Dickens Oh, that’s a poor ball. I have lost that swing in my arm. I must practise when I am alone, and then startle you all with my improvement.

  Aggie comes out with the tea. Walter comes on holding a bat.

  Walter Oh, that’s wonderful, Aggie.

  Dickens Good girl, Aggie, good girl. You are a treasure. (Drinking.) You look peaky, Aggie. I will send you to Dr Bill.

  Aggie I’m all right, sir.

  Dickens The Irish make perfect tea.

  As Walt takes a cup from Aggie, he touches the back of her hand a moment.

  Aggie They don’t make tea in Ireland, sir.

  Dickens No, only little maids. When we are fortified, boys, let us play on, while the light remains to us. Thank you, Aggie. You have taken the cold out of us. If Franklin and his men had had this tea in their icy world at the frozen North, boys, there would have been no death and dying. Thank you, girls, for the wonderful music. Thank you, boys, for your wonderful batting and catching.

  Light now on Andersen. His face frightened and unhappy.

  Andersen Little maid? A girl should not see an old man in travail. How I fear this sadness. God look down on me, and send me a day of simplicity and ease.

  Light fading from Andersen. Voices from another room. Andersen listening. Catherine sitting in her bed in her nightcap and gown.

  Catherine is reading a little book of poems. Dickens has a measuring stick and is measuring.

  Catherine What are you doing, Charles?

  Dickens I am measuring.

  Catherine What are you measuring?

  Dickens The distance – between two points.

  Catherine And why, Charles?

  Dickens Because – I – it will be easier perhaps to block the door to my dressing room.

  Catherine It is very convenient for you, going in and out that way.

  Dickens It was. But now, I find I wish it to be inconvenient – and inaccessible, except from the corridor outside.

  Catherine But that is not an improvement.

  Dickens No. In architectural terms. But yes, in – sentimental terms.

  Catherine I do not understand you.

  Dickens I do not think I understand myself. Indeed, I am like a man on fire – like a sailor in a plunging ship. Like a fierce, buzzing fly without its wings.

  Catherine It’s time to sleep. I can read no more of these Four Seasons. It used to calm me. I have reached the end of Spring and I am exhausted. I will blow out the candle, if you do not mind.

  Dickens And leave me in the dark?

  Catherine I will obviously wait till you are in bed.

  Dickens staring at her.

  What?

  Dickens I am fixed to the floor. I wonder if it is not a symptom of madness to be unable to rest, even when quite still? Two foot six and a half inches. I will just note it down for the carpenter. I will go and do so. I won’t wake you, never fear. I will creep back later.

  Catherine What is the matter?

  Dickens There is nothing the matter, in the proper understanding of the phrase.

  Catherine If you say not.

  Dickens I say – go to sleep. Go to sleep. Go to sleep.

  Catherine I will not sleep easily, with Walter going away.

  Dickens We should be thankful there is a great Empire to mop up these sons.

  Catherine To mop them up? These boys I love? That you love. Are the rest to follow? Will you send Plorn also at close of day?

  Dickens I am hoping, I confess, that Plorn may manifest some talent that will keep him in England.

  Catherine But because Walter is a nice, simple boy, and not your favourite, he must be thrown to the wolves of Empire?

  Dickens The Empire does not disdain those lacking a particular talent. England does. I have tried to place Walter everywhere. I have failed because he can do nothing, in particular. It was Georgie suggested India. I think she is right.

  Catherine Georgie. They are my sons, they are my sons.

  Dickens Well, well, come now, Catherine, let’s not pretend you had the doing of them. It has been Georgie mostly has tended them.

  Catherine Not at my request.

  Dickens The house must have order.

  Catherine Now you are getting angry.

  Dickens I am not getting angry.

  Catherine If Georgie has helped me, it is because I have crawled from childbirth to childbirth. She of course has not had to do such things. Is that indelicate of me to say so? And little Dora, my own angel … What was I to do about that? That horrible place I had to go to afterwards, and that loathsome sadness.

  Dickens Malvern, so horrible? It is a very nice place where you took the waters. So the living make fools of themselves with little things. And speaking of foolishness – Andersen. He was trying to tell me he needed to go to London to see his friend, the Danish ambassador Count Reventlow. You see how easily it can be said? It was like listening to the Iliad in a Hottentot translation. To cap it all, I had just read a horrible notice of Little Dorrit, so I listened to him through my tears.

  Catherine (laughing suddenly) Poor Charles.

  Dickens You laugh at me. You are right. (A moment.) Do you think, Catherine, he is quite real? Perhaps only a ghost? It suddenly seems strange to have him in the house. A haunting. To have anyone in the house. To stand here myself, with you. To be a living person. It is all strange to me, suddenly. The house standing in the darkness, the marshes darkened, the blue of the Thames darkened to pitch, only the stars brightening, as if for fe
ar of the dark’s victory, and in these bedrooms, the inhabitants sleeping, dreaming – dreaming.

  Catherine And we should do the same.

  Dickens (moving away) Poor Douglas, poor Douglas … He had five little babes that he loved so much. Now they have no father.

  In the corridor outside he encounters Kate.

  Kate Papa, are you unwell?

  Dickens No, Kate dear, I am not unwell.

  Kate You are very pale, Papa.

  Dickens It is the moonlight.

  Kate There is no moon tonight.

  Dickens There is a moon. What is that, if not a moon? You are not very observant.

  Kate But that is not why you are so pale, Papa, you are not the man in the moon, you are the man on the earth.

  Dickens Yes.

  Kate Where are you going now, at this moment?

  Dickens I am going to my workroom, to make a note of something. Two feet, six inches and a half.

  Kate Oh? What does that measure? Will I go with you?

  Dickens Will you come with me? I would like that, Kate. I am glad we are friends again.

  Kate When were we not?

  Dickens When Charlie Collins wrote to you last month, and asked you to marry him.

  Kate Yes, and for a moment I thought I might like to, and then I thought I would not.

  Dickens Even though he is Wilkie’s brother, how could I countenance anyone taking you away from me? You have

  written to the poor man, to let him know your answer?

  Kate No, but I will do so.

  Dickens Everyone is in their beds?

  Kate Walter said he might go and try for sea trout. Otherwise, all are in their beds.

  Dickens embraces Kate.

  Darkness falls equally on everything.

  Walter returning through the dark garden with a fishing rod and a brace of trout. He goes into the house.

  Music. A few moments.