Ramblings

My cousin Philip Blackshaw worked as a Classics and English teacher at Queen Mary’s Grammar School in Walsall. While there he wrote and directed an excellent play called whatthedickens.com, an introduction to the work of Charles Dickens, which was performed at the school on 7th and 8th July 2004. It was very well received. The programme notes introduce the play thus:

“Extracts from some of the novels of Charles Dickens form the basis of our production this evening: a young schoolboy attends a school that is about to celebrate a 450th anniversary (it might even be Queen Mary’s Grammar School!). He misses an important meeting about the arrangements, so Mr. Hall, the headteacher tells him to prepare a project on Charles Dickens, and gives him a week to complete it. He is advised to use a new website called whatthedickens.com. When he gets home he tries to get into this website, and apparently fails, falling asleep in the process. Suddenly the website starts to work: Charles Dickens himself appears and introduces him to some of his characters. The boy dreams on, gradually becoming more and more part of his dream, until he himself is drawn in to the company of these characters: will he awake and be able to complete the project on time?”

The play was written for an all-male cast, but could be adapted for a mixed or female cast. The running time as presented here is about 80 minutes, but any future producer can cut sections or add scenes and characters from other novels as they see fit. Similarly, while there are 33 characters listed, the original production had a cast of about 25, with some boys taking on two roles, typically as one of the Olivers, and as one of the boys in Wackford Squeers’ class. The casting can be flexible, to accommodate the vagaries of school productions.

I am delighted that Philip has allowed me to share his play online. He is happy for amateur productions to use the script free of charge, provided he is notified (the contact form on this blog will reach him) and credited as author.

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whatthedickens.com

by Philip Blackshaw

Queen Mary’s Grammar School Summer Entertainment

July 2004

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whatthedickens.com

Scenes from these novels by Charles Dickens:

• David Copperfield
• Great Expectations
• Hard Times
• Nicholas Nickleby and
• Oliver Twist

Characters in order of appearance:

(Cast members are given only when they are themselves named in the script. Names have been changed from the original cast.)

• Mr. Hall, Headteacher (Ben Hall)
• David Copperfield (Imran Akhtar)
• Wackford Squeers (Jonathan Roberts)
• Creakle (Marek Kowalski)
• Abel Magwitch (Gareth Lewis)
• Matthew Wilson as himself
• Charles Dickens
• Pip (Matthew Wilson)
• Oliver Twist 1 (Callum McLeod)
• Nicholas Nickleby
• Oliver Twist 2
• Oliver Twist 3
• Oliver Twist 4
• Oliver Twist 5
• Cobbey
• Graymarsh
• Belling
• Bolder
• Smike
• Mobbs
• Gradgrind
• Mr. M’Choakumchild
• Bitzer
• Mr Edward Murdstone
• Mr Wilkins Micawber
• Artful Dodger
• Charley Bates
• Fagin
• Daniel Peggotty
• Uriah Heep
• Joe Gargery
• Mr. Bumble
• Mrs. Bumble

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ACT 1

SCENE 1: The School

SCENE 2: The School, Headteacher’s office

SCENE 3: Matthew’s room at home

SCENE 4: Great Expectations: The Churchyard

SCENE 5: Nicholas Nickleby: Dotheboy’s Hall classroom

SCENE 6: Hard Times: Coketown: The classroom

SCENE 7: David Copperfield: Mr. Creakle’s school

ACT 2

SCENE 8: David Copperfield: David’s room

SCENE 9: Oliver Twist: Oliver in London

SCENE 10: Oliver Twist: Oliver in Fagin’s den

SCENE 11: David Copperfield: David at Yarmouth with Dan Peggotty

SCENE 12: David Copperfield: David with Mr. Micawber and Uriah Heep

SCENE 13: Great Expectations: the adult Pip with Magwitch

SCENE 14: Finale

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ACT 1

SCENE I

The School Hall. The Headteacher, Mr. Hall, is in the process of addressing the assembled children and parents on their scheme to raise money for their 450th anniversary by presenting a play about Charles Dickens. Matthew Wilson, a bright and sparky Year 8 pupil, is not present.

MR. HALL. So you see, I think this production of Charles Dickens will work and will raise a fair amount of money for our school, along with other events that we have planned. But this Dickens presentation is to play a key role for the project. We have a good cast, most if not all of whom are with us today – yes, I can see Callum McLeod there, grinning away as usual. Stand up, McLeod. Yes, there he is; he’s going to be David Copperfield…

(another teacher whispers to him, evidently putting him right)

…er, I’m sorry, he’s one of the Oliver Twists. Who is to be Copperfield, then?

Imran Akhtar stands up

Ah yes, Akhtar. And what about some of the villains, eh? You know, all of you, those larger-than-life characters that love to parade themselves at the expense of others – the parade of schoolmasters, for instance.

(He evidently likes to think of himself as a hard schoolmaster himself)

What about that one with the marvellous name – who is it now? Er –

JONATHAN ROBERTS. (in his natural voice) Wackford Squeers, sir? (in his Squeers voice and manner) That’s me, sir, and don’t you forget it!

MR. HALL. (clearly rather embarrassed by this) Ah yes, well thank you, er, Roberts. Make sure you do a good job of him. What about Copperfield’s teacher, Mr. Creakle?

MAREK KOWALSKI. (in his natural voice) That’s me sir. (in his Creakle voice) My name’s Creakle, a graduate from Oxford University, and I’m a tartar –

MR. HALL. Thank you, Kowalski, that will do. What about that convict, left alone “on them lone, shivering marshes”, as Dickens makes him say?

GARETH LEWIS. Abel Magwitch, at your service, sir.

MR. HALL. Yes, Lewis, I thought they’d pick you. I hope you realise that you’re a very important character in the boy Pip’s development? Not all bad convict, eh?

GARETH LEWIS. Oh yes, sir. I’ve got it all, sir. Pip’s great expectations, and all.

MR. HALL. Well anyway, that brings me back to our own great expectations. I’ll be sending out an important letter to all of you soon, giving you further details. In the meantime, as the saying goes, er, “watch this space.” (he laughs a little, proud of use of the modern expression – the audience look rather uncomfortable – he evidently lacks the common touch) So, that’s all for now. We shall meet again.

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SCENE 2

The lights dim, and a spotlight falls on Mr. Hall in one area of the acting promenade. We are clearly in the Headteacher’s office. There is a knock at the door.

MR. HALL. Come in!

Matthew Wilson walks in

MR. HALL. Ah yes, Wilson, what is it?

WILSON. Please sir, I wasn’t there.

MR. HALL. (irritated) – there? Where do you mean? Don’t speak riddles, boy!

WILSON. At the meeting, sir. I wasn’t there. You see, my parents are away this week, and there’s something wrong with the central heating, and my uncle had to-

MR. HALL. Yes, yes, Wilson, you needn’t go into detail. I’ve no doubt there’s a good explanation. But we can’t have you missing out in this way, you know. You’d better do some of your own research on Charles Dickens –

WILSON. Who?

MR. HALL. Who, sir!

WILSON. Who is Charles Dickens, (with emphasis) sir?

MR. HALL. Only our greatest novelist, and for us here a person whose novels will be supplying us with some funds for our 450th anniversary.

WILSON. (bored) Oh, I see – sir. Well, what do you want me to do?

MR. HALL. Well, you’re quite a bright lad. You’d better submit a project to me on Charles Dickens, that we can use for the production.

WILSON. But sir –

MR. HALL. (ignoring him, and in a rather intimidating tone) It will be a good one, Wilson, one of your specials. And I’ll give you a week –

WILSON. (horrified) A week, sir?! But –

MR. HALL. Oh, don’t worry about that, Wilson. At this point in the year things are slackening a bit. You can stay at home, especially if you say there are problems for you getting to school until your parents get back, and you can work on the project for us. Look here, I’ve come across this new website – it’s called – er – (fumbles in his office drawer) – ah yes, here it is: whatthedickens.com. It’s supposed to be very new, and very good.

WILSON. whatthedickens? What the Dickens indeed, sir!

MR. HALL. So that’s it, Wilson; I’ve got – er – great expectations of you, Wilson. (Wilson naturally does not understand his headteacher’s little joke)

WILSON. (puzzled) Expectations, sir?

MR. HALL. Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know. Well, you will in a week’s time, Wilson. You can go now.

Wilson walks down the acting promenade and up again, on his way home. He looks at the slip of paper with the website name on it. He keeps repeating it to himself over and over again.

WILSON. Well, I don’t know. I fail to attend one of Hall’s important sessions, and for a good reason, too, and I’ve got this to do. And what with the problems at home – Mum and Dad away, and my sister nagging me all the time, and mothering me, and this wretched project to do! And who the hell is Charles – (he looks at the paper) – Dickens, anyway? And why should he be so important?

The boy about to play Dickens, stands up. Wilson is unaware of him.

WILSON. Oh hell! What a wonderful week I’ve got ahead of me!

He arrives home, and goes straight to his room.

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SCENE 3

Wilson goes to his computer, switches on, and goes into the internet. He tries to log in to the whatthedickens.com website, but encounters all sorts of problems.

WILSON. (improvised monologue, as he tries over and over again to get into the website) I’m really knackered now, and fed up, and wracked off, and –

He begins to doze off. Mysterious music seems to come out of nowhere, and the sound of the sea, then wind. The boy playing Dickens leaves his seat among the audience and walks the acting promenade towards Wilson. He arrives at Wilson’s shoulder.

WILSON. (apparently waking up) Wait a bit, something seems to be happening at last!

DICKENS. (touching the boy on the shoulder) Having some difficulties, there, lad?

WILSON. (not in entire control of himself) I’m trying to get into the website whatthe- (he voluntarily and ironically pauses at this point) -dickens.com. And at long last something seems to be working.

DICKENS. Well, it will inevitably work now, because I’m here to help you work it.

WILSON. Who are you?

DICKENS. Who am I? (echoing Mr. Hall’s words) one of England’s greatest-

WILSON. (remembering) – novelists. Wait, (looking at the screen) what’s happening?

DICKENS. The first page is coming up –

The strange sounds of music, sea and wind starts up again, only now louder and more sustained.

DICKENS. We’re entering the lone, shivering marshes.

He picks up a book and quotes the following from Great Expectations. As he reads the room changes: the chairs change to tombstones, and the projection of a church can be seen at the rear.

DICKENS. “Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within twenty miles of the sea. At such a time the boy (suddenly Wilson gets up from his chair, moving oddly as he appears to be in a kind of sleep walk) found out for certain that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish (Wilson is now peering at one of the “tombstones”) and also Georgiana, wife of the above was –

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SCENE 4

WILSON. (now as Pip, taking over where Dickens had left off) – dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, (as he reads this list of names a strange figure approaches: it is Magwitch, the convict) Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried –

MAGWITCH. Hold your tongue! Keep still, you little devil, or I’ll cut your throat!

PIP/WILSON. Oh, don’t cut my throat, sir. Pray, don’t do it!

MAGWITCH. Tell us your name! Quick!

PIP/WILSON. P-P-P-Pip, sir. Pip!

MAGWITCH. Show us where you live. Point out the place!

PIP/WILSON. (pointing to his own bed) Over there!

MAGWITCH. Where’s your mother?

PIP/WILSON. (pointing to the tombstones) There, sir: “Also Georgiana” – that’s my mother.

MAGWITCH. (realising the situation) Oh, and is that your father alonger yout mother (he also peers at the tombstone, and reads) – “late of this parish?”.

PIP/WILSON. Yes, sir.

MAGWITCH. Who d’you live with, then – supposin’ you’re kindly let to live, which I haven’t made up my mind about!

PIP/WILSON. I live with my sister, sir, Mrs. Joe Gargery, wife of the blacksmith.

MAGWITCH. (looking down at the iron on his leg) Blacksmith, eh? Now lookee here. You know what a file is? (the boy nods vigorously) And you know what victuals is?

PIP/WILSON. (nodding vigorously again) Yes, sir – food, sir.

MAGWITCH. Well, you get me a file, and some victuals, and you bring ’em both to me, or (he thinks) I’ll have your heart and liver out! (the boy cries out, terrified) You bring me, tomorrow morning, early, that file and them victuals. You do it, and you never dare to say a word or dare to make a sign concerning your having seen such a person as me, and you shall be let to live. (the boy seems to recover, so Magwitch turns up the pressure again) Now, I ain’t alone, as you may think I am. There’s a young man hid with me, in comparison with which young man I am (emphatically) a angel! That young man has a secret way, peculiar to himself, of getting at a boy, and at his heart, and at his liver. (the boy creeps towards his bed, and starts to pull the duvet over his head) A boy make his door, may be warm in bed, may tuck himself in, may draw the clothes over his head, but that young man will softly creep his way to him and tear him open! (Magwitch tears the duvet off the boy; the boy runs off the bed, screaming) Now, what do you say?

PIP/WILSON. I’ll do as you say, and fetch the file and the victuals, and be back with them early tomorrow morning.

MAGWITCH. Say, lord strike me dead if I don’t!

PIP/WILSON. Lord, strike me dead if I don’t!

MAGWITCH. Now, you’re on oath, and you remember, and get off home.

PIP/WILSON. Yes, sir, g-g-g-good-goodnight, sir!

Magwitch watches as Wilson runs frantically along the acting promenade, and back again. When the boy reaches home, Magwitch has gone, the chairs are back to normal, and Wilson is seated at his computer screen, shaken, tired and bewildered.

PIP/WILSON. (peering at the screen) “Great Expectations” – “the young boy Pip meets the convict in the churchyard” – “and faces his great expectations” – funny, that’s what Mr. Hall said to me! What is happening to me? Where am I?

He looks all around his room, feeling lost in his own home. He cries out – he sees a boy, younger than himself walking down the acting promenade, clutching an empty bowl. He walks towards Wilson.

OLIVER 1. (stopping to face Wilson, and holding his bowl up. Wilson looks around and sees Dickens standing beside him) (to Dickens) Please, sir, I want some more! (he turns to face the audience, and gestures to them) Please sir, we want some more!

DICKENS. More?

OLIVER 1. More!

Dickens suddenly claps his hands, and there is a blackout. When the lights come up again, some boys are seated on the floor in the acting promenade; one of them is holding up a sign saying “Dotheboys Hall, Mr Wackford Squeers’ class”. Wilson stares out into the hall, struck dumb.

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SCENE 5

Wackford Squeers and the new teacher, Nicholas Nickleby, take up their positions at the front of the “classroom”, within the acting arena.

SQUEERS. Are you cold, Nickleby?

NICKLEBY. Rather, sir, I must say. Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir?

SQUEERS. About three mile from here. But you needn’t call it a Hall down here.

NICKLEBY. Why, sir?

SQUEERS. The fact is, it ain’t a hall. We call it a Hall up in London, because it sounds better.

The two “enter” the classroom. Nickleby stands next to Squeers. The five actors playing the Oliver Twists take up position on chairs in the acting promenade, now playing boys in Squeers’ class. They all look woebegone and half starved, and totally miserable.

SQUEERS. There, this is our shop, Nickleby! (He turns to the boys) Let any boy speak a word without leave, and I’ll take the skin off his back. Boys, I’ve been to London, and have returned to my family and you, as strong and well as ever. (Feeble cheers of greeting from the boys) This is the first class in English spelling and philosophy, Nickleby. We’ll get up a Latin one, and hand that over to you Now then, where’s the first boy?

COBBEY. Please sir, he’s cleaning the back parlour window.

SQUEERS. So he is, to be sure. We go upon the practical mode of teaching, Nickleby. C-l-e-a-n, clean, verb active, to make bright, to scour. W-i-n-d-e-r, winder, a casement. When the boy knows this out of the book, he goes and does it. Where’s the second boy?

GRAYMARSH. Please sir, he’s weeding the garden.

SQUEERS. To be sure. B-o-t-t-i-n-e-y, bottiney, noun substantive, a knowledge of plants. When he has learned that bottiney means a knowledge of plants, he goes and knows ’em. That’s our system, Nickleby; what do you think of it?

NICKLEBY. It’s a very useful one, at any rate.

SQUEERS. (failing to grasp Nickleby’s irony) I believe you. Third boy, you, Belling, what’s a horse?

BELLING. A beast, sir.

SQUEERS. So it is. A horse is a quadruped, and quadruped’s Latin for beast.. (to Belling) As you’re perfect in that, go and look after my horse, (Belling prepares to go) and rub him down well, or I’ll rub you down. (Belling dashes off, glad to be gone). I have seen the parents of some boys, and they’re glad to hear how their sons are getting on, that there’s no prospect at all of their going back home. (The boys exchange sympathetic glances) Where is Bolder? (Bolder stands up) Come here, Bolder. (He notices his dirty hands covered in warts) What do you call this, sir?

BOLDER. I can’t help it, indeed, sir. They will look like this; it’s the dirty work I think, sir – at least I don’t know what it is, sir, but it’s not my fault.

SQUEERS. (brandishing a cane) Bolder, you are nothing but a young scoundrel, and as the last thrashing failed, we’ll have to see how a new one does. (He beats him) There, rub away now, and you won’t rub those marks off in a hurry. (Bolder blubbers) Stop that blubbering! Smike! (Smike stands up and enters the acting promenade) The letters! (Smike hands over the letters to Mr. Squeers, and takes his place) Now let us see: a letter for Cobbey. Stand up, Cobbey! (Cobbey stands up) Cobbey, your grandmother’s dead, your Uncle John has took to drinking, and your sister sends eighteen pence, which will just pay for that pane of glass you broke. Graymarsh, you’re next! (Graymarsh stands up) Graymarsh, your aunt is very glad to hear you are so well and happy, (Graymarsh looks anything but happy), sends her compliments to Mrs. Squeers, and thinks she must be an angel. A delightful letter! Very affecting, indeed. Mobbs! (Mobbs stands up) Your stepmother is sorry to find you are discontented, which is sinful and horrid, and hopes Mr. Squeers will flog him into a happier state of mind. Mobbs, a sulky state of feeling won’t do. Cheerfulness and contentment must be kept up. Mobbs, come to me!

Mobbs does so, and at the noise of Mr. Squeers’s cane, there is a sudden blackout. In the blackout Mr. Squeers is heard shouting “Now get out, all of you!” and when the lights come up again, there is just Nickleby and Smike sitting together.

NICKLEBY. You need not fear me. Are you cold?

SMIKE. No.

NICKLEBY. You are shivering.

SMIKE. I am not cold. I am used to it.

NICKLEBY. Poor fellow!

SMIKE. Oh dear, oh dear, my heart will break. It will, it will.

NICKLEBY. Hush, be a man, you are nearly one by years, God help you!

SMIKE. By years! Oh dear, how many years, Mr. Nickleby, sir, how many? Where are they all?

NICKLEBY. Who?

SMIKE. My friends, oh, what sufferings are mine!

NICKLEBY. There is always hope.

Both of them look up and around at the audience.

SMIKE. Hope!

He sees a boy approaching him – it’s Oliver 2, who walks up to them, looks sympathetically at Smike, then looks at Nickleby.

OLIVER 2. Please sir, I want some more!

NICKLEBY (Looking towards the stage, where a bewildered Wilson is watching all this) More? (Wilson shrugs his shoulders. Nickleby turns to the audience) More?

Hopefully the audience agree. Charles Dickens, now in the audience, claps his hands again, and another blackout. When the lights come up again, we are in another classroom: Mr. M’Choakumchild’s, in Coketown.

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SCENE 6

M’Choakumchild and Mr. Gradgrind (a school inspector) are standing before a class of boys as before. One of them holds up a sign saying “Coketown Elementary School”.

GRADGRIND. Facts, Mr. M’Choakumchild! Now, what I want is, facts. Teach these boys nothing but facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. This is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to facts, sir.

M’CHOAKUMCHILD. To be sure, sir!

GRADGRIND. Thomas Gradgrind, sir. A man of realities. A man of facts and calculations. Whom shall we select?

M’CHOAKUMCHILD. Bitzer!

GRADGRIND. Bitzer, sir. What is your definition of a horse?

BITZER. Quadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth: twenty-four grinders, four eye- teeth, and twelve incisive. Sheds coat in the Spring. Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron. Age known by marks in mouth.

M’CHOAKUMCHILD. Very well!

GRADGRIND. Very well, indeed, Bitzer. Now then, would you paper a room with representations of horses?

A pause, some of the children say “Yes, sir!” Another group say “No, sir!” Mr. Gradgrind turns to the audience.

GRADGRIND. Well? Of course, No. Why wouldn’t you? (Appeals to audience) Fact, fact, fact, remember that! Fact is not Fancy. You don’t have horses upon your wall in Fact, do you? You don’t walk upon flowers in Fact, so you can’t seem to walk upon flowers in carpets. You don’t find that foreign birds and butterflies come and perch upon your crockery, do you, madam? Very well, then, you can’t be permitted to paint foreign birds and butterflies upon them in Fancy. Fact, not Fancy!

M’CHOAKUMCHILD. Fact, not Fancy! You can’t have quadrupeds in Fact walking up walls, so don’t have them walking up your walls in Fancy!

GRADGRIND. Quite so! Now, if Mr. M’Choakumchild will proceed to give his first lesson here, I shall be happy to observe your mode of procedure.

Oliver 3 walks towards Mr. M’Choakumchild.

OLIVER 3. Please sir, I want some more!

M’CHOAKUMCHILD. What?

OLIVER 3. Please sir, I want (he appeals to audience) some more!

Wilson walks down into the acting promenade carrying a folder. He looks around at the classroom in operation – now in freeze-frame – and takes down notes. Charles Dickens stands up.

DICKENS. Wilson! (Wilson looks up) Are you following all this?

WILSON. Classrooms, children, schoolmasters –

GRADGRIND. (Shouting out) Facts!

BITZER. Not Fancy!

WILSON. No quadrupeds on walls and no birds on crockery. Oh dear me, what am I to make of all this?

Oliver 3 walks up to him.

OLIVER 3. You want some more?

Mr. Creakle stands up in audience.

CREAKLE. Copperfield! (Copperfield stands up too) Copperfield, you must take your place. This is Salem House, your school. Your stepfather, Mr. Edward Murdstone, a most worthy gentleman, has sent you here.

Murdstone stands up.

MURDSTONE. “Sent you here.”

CREAKLE. (to Copperfield) But apparently you bite!

MURDSTONE. “You bite.”

CREAKLE. I have the happiness of knowing Mr. Murdstone. A worthy man, as I said, and a strong character. Do you know me?

COPPERFIELD. No, sir.

CREAKLE. You don’t? We’ll have to teach you more.

Mr. Creakle comes down into the acting promenade to join the class, and a bewildered Wilson takes his place next to Copperfield, who has also joined them.

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SCENE 7

CREAKLE. Copperfield, come here! (Copperfield does so) I know Mr. Murdstone, and he knows me. Do you know me?

COPPERFIELD. No. I don’t know you, sir.

CREAKLE. Well, I’m Mr. Creakle, a graduate from Oxford University, and I’m a Tartar.

MURDSTONE. “A Tartar”

CREAKLE. A Tartar. When I say I’ll do a thing, I do it, and when I say I will have a thing done –

COPPERFIELD. – you will have it done, er, sir.

CREAKLE. I will have it done.

MURDSTONE. “Have it done.”

CREAKLE. I am a determined character. I do my duty. Now my young friend, you have begun to know me, and you may go.

COPPERFIELD. If you please, sir –

CREAKLE. What’s this?

COPPERFIELD. If I may be allowed, sir, to remove this sign, sir. (He points out the sign around his neck – “Take care of him. He bites”)

CREAKLE. You may not, Master Copperfield. I know my duty, and you may not remove it. And I am a Tartar.

MURDSTONE. “A Tartar.”

Wilson drops his folder. Everybody freezes.

WILSON. whatthedickens.com! What a website!

MURDSTONE. “What a website!”

Dickens claps his hands again, and the actors come out of freeze. Oliver 4 emerges from the distance and approaches Mr. Creakle.

WILSON. Oh no, (picks up his folder, and checks his notes) another Oliver Twist!

OLIVER 4. (to Mr. Creakle) Please sir, I want some more!

CREAKLE. More? Well, it’s time for refreshment –

MURDSTONE. “Refreshment!”

CREAKLE. – refreshment, and when I say I’ll do a thing, I do it.

MURDSTONE. “Do it”

CREAKLE. – and when I say I will have a thing done, I will have it done. Ain’t that not so, Mr. Dickens?

DICKENS. It is indeed, Mr. Creakle.

CREAKLE. So now, all of you, you’d better get off and refresh yourselves, and you, Master Copperfield, you had better come with me.

***************

ACT 2

SCENE 8

After the refreshment interval Mr. Creakle and David Copperfield are seen talking together in Mr. Creakle’s office.

CREAKLE. Were they all well when you last returned from home?

COPPERFIELD. Yes, sir.

CREAKLE. Was your mama well, Copperfield?

COPPERFIELD. Yes, sir.

CREAKLE. Well, I have to tell you that she is dangerously ill. In fact, she is – er – dead, so you will have to return to your stepfather, Mr. Murdstone.

Sudden blackout, after which, when the light come up again, we see David Copperfield at one end of the acting promenade, with his stepfather, Mr. Murdstone.

MURDSTONE. I suppose you know, David, that I am not a wealthy man. At any rate, you know it now. You have received considerable education recently, but education is costly. What is before you, is a fight with the world, and the sooner you begin it, the better.

COPPERFIELD. Yes, Mr. Murdstone.

MURDSTONE. So you are to set down to work, at the London warehouses of Murdstone and Grinby, in the wine trade, washing bottles initially. I have arranged lodgings for you: you are to lodge with a charitable gentleman by the name of – (he fumbles for his notes) Mr. Wilkins Micawber. So I suppose I must wish you luck.

A disturbance is heard outside the Hall. Presently a man appears, who scrambles over the chairs among the audience, apologising as he goes, and eventually meets up with young Copperfield.

MICAWBER. Relentlessly pursued by my scurrilous enemies, my dastardly creditors, I have contrived to escape: in short, I have arrived! Wilkins Micawber, Master Copperfield, at your service. My address is Windsor Terrace, City Road, London. In short, I live there. Under the impression that your journeys in this metropolis have not yet been extensive, and that you might experience some difficulty in weaving your way around the labyrinth of streets that make up London, in short, that you might get lost, I am here, and shall be happy to escort you there.

COPPERFIELD. Oh, thank you, Mr. Micawber. Indeed, it is very kind of you. (They walk together down the acting promenade, and talk)

MICAWBER. My dear young friend, I am older than you, a man of experience in life, and have to say that I have nothing to bestow upon you but advice. Still my advice is so far worth taking that I have never taken it myself, and am therefore the miserable creature that you now look upon before you

COPPERFIELD. What advice, Mr. Micawber?

MICAWBER. In short, simply this: annual income, twenty pounds, annual expenditure, nineteen pounds, result: happiness. Annual income, twenty pounds, annual expenditure, twenty-one pounds, result: misery! And here we are, my young friend, Windsor Terrace, City Road, the residence of Wilkins Micawber and family, a man waiting hourly for something to turn up –

They go off. Wilson appears on the acting promenade.

WILSON. Well, at least there are some kind adults in Charles Dickens’s world, at any rate. (He looks up the promenade and sees one whom he recognises as yet another Oliver Twist. He expects the usual remark of wanting more, but this Oliver Twist – Oliver 5 – walks right past him, and beyond) Well I never! Now, there’s an Oliver Twist, who doesn’t seem to want more!

DICKENS. Ah, but you see he does!

WILSON. I might have known. Am I to take more notes?

DICKENS. whatthedickens.com, page 9 is about to unfold before your eyes.

WILSON. It’s not making a lot of sense yet, I must say.

DICKENS. It will. Just watch!

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SCENE 9

Oliver 5 (Oliver Twist) walks the length of the acting promenade, and then the other. As he walks wearily along he is spotted by a slightly older lad in the audience, who comes out and follows him. He presently taps him on the shoulder, and speaks to him.

ARTFUL DODGER. Hello, my covey, my old mate, what’s the row, then?

OLIVER TWIST. Pardon?

ARTFUL DODGER. What’s the row, my covey? What’s up, then? Lost? Want something? Need help? What’s the row? Come on, open up, and spill.

OLIVER TWIST. I am very hungry and tired. I have walked a long way. I have been walking these seven days.

ARTFUL DODGER. Walking for seven days! Oh, I see! Beak’s order, eh? Oh, but I suppose you don’t know what a beak is.

OLIVER TWIST. I think a beak is a bird’s mouth.

ARTFUL DODGER. My eyes, but how green you are! Why, a beak’s a magistrate, and when you walk by a beak’s order, it’s not straightforward, but always a-going up, and never a-coming down. But come, my sunshine, you want grub, and you shall have it. I’m at a low-water mark myself – only one bob and a magpie, but as far as it goes, I’ll fork out and stump. Up with you now, and on your pins. There! Now then! (They walk a little way) Going to London, are we?

OLIVER TWIST. Yes.

ARTFUL DODGER. Got any lodgings?

OLIVER TWIST. No.

ARTFUL DODGER. Money?

OLIVER TWIST. No. Do you live in London?

ARTFUL DODGER. Yes I do, when I’m at home. I suppose you want some place to sleep tonight, maybe?

OLIVER TWIST. I haven’t slept in a bed for days now, and have nowhere to sleep when I get to London.

ARTFUL DODGER. Don’t fret your eyelids on that score. I’ve got to be in London tonight, and I know a respectable old gentleman as lives there, wot’ll give you lodgings for nothing, and never ask for change neither.

They walk together for a while, until they come to an area where a voice comes from amongst the audience – Charley Bates.

CHARLEY. Now then! Password!

ARTFUL DODGER. Plummy and slam!

CHARLEY. There’s two of you! Who’s t’ other one, then?

ARTFUL DODGER. This is our new pal, by name Oliver Twist, from – Greenland, or Lord knows where! Is-er-Fagin in?

CHARLEY. He is, upstairs, sorting out his new wipes.

ARTFUL DODGER. Come in, young Oliver Twist, you’re going to meet Fagin, your new friend!

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SCENE 10

They walk together to the opposite end of the acting promenade and meet Fagin.

ARTFUL DODGER. This is him, Fagin, our new friend, Oliver Twist!

FAGIN. Come in, Oliver, my dear, you are most welcome. We are very glad to see you, and to accommodate you. Ah, Oliver, I see you staring at my row of wipes, my pocket handkerchiefs. There are a good many of them, aren’t there? We’ve just put them out, ready for the wash. Well, Dodger, I hope you’ve been hard at work this morning.

ARTFUL DODGER. Hard indeed! Hard as nails!

FAGIN. Good boy! What have you, Dodger?

ARTFUL DODGER. A couple of pocket books.

FAGIN. Lined?

ARTFUL DODGER. Pretty well.

FAGIN. But not so heavy as they might have been. But very neat and nicely made. Ingenious workmanship, isn’t it, Oliver, my dear? Ain’t the Artful Dodger good at his trade?

OLIVER TWIST. Oh yes, sir, to be sure he is, sure. (the others all laugh)

FAGIN. (calling out to Charley) Charley, what you got?

CHARLEY. (appearing) Wipes! More wipes!

FAGIN. Very good ones, but with a few marks that we’ll have to apply the needle to, and remove. Perhaps you would like to learn that trade, young Oliver?

OLIVER TWIST. If you please, sir, Fagin, yes I would!

FAGIN. We’ll teach you, Oliver, my dear. We’ll teach you. It’s a good life. Make them your models, your models, yes. They’ll teach you all you need to know. Take their advice in all matters, especially the Dodger’s, my dear. He’ll be a great man himself, one day, will the Dodger, and he’ll make you one too, if you take pattern by him. Is there a handkerchief a-sticking out out of my back pocket, Oliver? Can you see?

OLIVER TWIST. Oh yes, sir!

FAGIN. Well, see if you pull it out without my noticing!

Oliver does so, more than once, until Fagin feels nothing. Suddenly Wilson appears.

WILSON. Oliver! (They freeze) Stop! This is not the life of a good boy! Seek advice from other sources. Seek advice from –

MICAWBER. Wilkins Micawber.

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SCENE 11

Micawber reappears, as Fagin and Oliver leave. From now on Wilson remains close to the action, taking notes.

MICAWBER. Master Copperfield, farewell to you Every happiness and prosperity! In case of anything turning up (of which I am rather confident), I shall be extremely happy if it should be in my power to improve your prospects.

COPPERFIELD. Indeed, sir, I am to visit the family of my old nurse, Peggotty. They are fisher folk in Yarmouth. Daniel Peggotty is our Peggotty’s brother. I am to travel there in Mr. Barkis’s cart. I do think Mr. Barkis is seeking a wife, for he said to me., as he was munching away at some cakes I offered him, “Did she make ’em now?” I asked him whether he meant Peggotty. “Ah”, says Mr. Barkis. “Her.” And then he turned to me and asked: “No sweethearts I believe? No-one who comes calling?” I told him no, and then he says to me “When you see her, tell her, Barkis is willin’.”

DICKENS. That’s right, Barkis is willing. (Wilson writes down quickly) Got that, young Matthew Wilson? We’re approaching page 11 of the website now. Young David Copperfield visits Yarmouth, at the home of Daniel Peggotty.

He claps his hands, and suddenly David Copperfield is seen sitting on the edge of the acting promenade, with Daniel Peggotty by his side.

COPPERFIELD. Mr. Peggotty!

PEGGOTTY. Sir?

COPPERFIELD. Your son, Ham, the one I’ve just met, did you give him the name of Ham, because you all live in a kind of ark?

PEGGOTTY. No sir, I never give ‘im no name.

COPPERFIELD. Who gave him that name, then?

PEGGOTTY. Why, sir, ‘is father give it ‘im. We was all fisher folk together, going back many a generation.

COPPERFIELD. I thought you were his father!

PEGGOTTY. No, young David, ‘e be the son of my brother Joe.

COPPERFIELD. Dead, Mr. Peggotty?

PEGGOTTY. Drowndead.

COPPERFIELD. And little Emily I met in there. She is your daughter, though, isn’t she?

PEGGOTTY. No sir, she be the daughter of my brother-in-law, Tom. Tom were ‘er father.

COPPERFIELD. Dead, Mr. Peggotty?

PEGGOTTY. Drowndead.

COPPERFIELD. Haven’t you any children?

PEGGOTTY. No, Master David, I’m a bachelor. But it’s good to see you here in Yarmouth. We fisher folk are simple folk, but we be true folk. You may find us rough, sir, but you’ll find us ready.

DICKENS. You see, Matthew Wilson? Kindness and simplicity in some, exploitation in others. Sympathy in some, cruelty in others. Tragedy in some, comedy in others. The rich tapestry of human life!

Suddenly all the Oliver Twists appear walking down the acting promenade, and this time go right up to Wilson. Each of them ask the same question: “Do you want some more?”. When the question is asked for the last time, Dickens himself speaks.

DICKENS. Page 12 now, Matthew Wilson!

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SCENE 12

DICKENS. Beware the ambitious people, Matthew, that appear so very ‘umble. Beware Uriah Heep! See him now with our old friend, David Copperfield –

COPPERFIELD. You are working late tonight, Uriah.

URIAH. Yes, Master Copperfield.

COPPERFIELD. You are doing work for the office?

URIAH. Oh no, Master Copperfield. I’m not doing office work, Master Copperfield!

COPPERFIELD. What are you doing, then?

URIAH. I am improving my legal knowledge, Master Copperfield. I am going through Tidd’s Practice. Oh, what a writer Mr. Tidd is, to be sure, Master Copperfield!

COPPERFIELD. I suppose you’re quite a great lawyer?

URIAH. Me, Master Copperfield? Oh no! I’m a very ‘umble person! My mother is ‘umble, too. And my father, too, was of very ‘umble station. He was a sexton.

COPPERFIELD. What is he now?

URIAH. He is a partaker of glory at present, Master Copperfield. But Mother and I, we have much to be thankful for. How much have I to be thankful for living in with Mr. Wickfield, and his lovely daughter, Agnes Wickfield.

COPPERFIELD. And you will rise eventually to be a partner of Mr. Wickfield’s? Wickfield and Heep? Eh? Or – Heep and Wickfield?

URIAH. Oh no, no, Master Copperfield, I am much too ‘umble to become that! Well, I must go, Mother will be expecting me. Can we hope some day to entertain you at our ‘umble abode?

COPPERFIELD. Most likely. Goodbye for now, Uriah.

URIAH. Goodbye, Master Copperfield, for the present.

Wilkins Micawber suddenly stands up from the audience.

MICAWBER. I, Wilkins Micawber, have a statement to make: Uriah Heep was not humble; he contrived to take over Mr. Wickfield’s business, under the disguise of a partnership, and I received a job as their clerk. My salary was a mere twenty-two shillings and six per week. I once more fell into the hands of my old enemy: debt. I had to borrow money from this Heep, secured by a number of IOUs, in order to keep myself and my family secure. And thus I became enmeshed, enmeshed I say, in the evil web spun by Heep! (He steps towards Heep) I approach you now, you Heep of infamy! And if your head is human, I’ll break it. Come on! Come on!! And thus Heep bought me, thus Heep bought Mr. Wickfield, thus Heep bought the business, bought them by forgeries, and by cheats, and by my complicity. Well, of that complicity I am ashamed and I lay it aside now, and declare it, and I denounce Heep!

Wind noise: we have returned to the churchyard of Scene 4.

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SCENE 13

PIP/WILSON. The churchyard! Where I met the old convict! Where I came to be apprenticed to old Joe, the blacksmith –

GARGERY. Hello, Pip, old chap, ever the best of friends we!

PIP/WILSON. But I met with my good fortune.

GARGERY. Ay, Pip, old chap, that evening the lawyer from London arrived at the forge, announcing the message that our Pip had great expectations!

PIP/WILSON. Great expectations! Great expectations! Money, fine clothes, To make me a gentleman!

GARGERY. Leave the forge, abandon your apprenticeship to a blacksmith, and become a gentleman in London!

PIP/WILSON. And my unknown benefactor, was old Magwitch, the convict!

Magwitch, standing down promenade, holds out his arms to greet Pip/Wilson, who walks down the acting promenade, followed by Joe Gargery. When they reach the end, they confront old Magwitch.

GARGERY. Which you have that growed, and that swelled, and that gentle-folked, as, to be sure, you are a honour to your king and country!

MAGWITCH. Yes Pip, dear boy, I’ve made a gentleman on you! It’s me wot has done it! I swore that time, sure as ever I earned a guinea, that guinea should go to you. I was deported to New South Wales, and became a sheep farmer, and I got rich, that you could get rich. I lived rough that you should live smooth, I worked hard that you should be above work. Do I tell it for you to feel a obligation? Not a bit! I tell it, for you to know as that hunted dunghill dog wot you kept life in, got his head so high that he could make a gentleman – and, Plp, you’re him! You’re that gentleman!

GARGERY. You and me, Pip old chap, you and me is not two figures to be together in London. I’m wrong out of the forge, out of the kitchen, out of the marshes. You won’t find half so much fault in me if you just think of me as old Joe the blacksmith. And so, God bless you, dear old Pip, old chap, God bless you.

Magwitch and Gargery leave together with Pip/Wilson gazing after them.

PIP/WILSON. So they were my great expectations! I think now my project on Charles Dickens is complete.

He walks slowly up the acting promenade, back to his room.

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SCENE 14: FINALE

Charles Dickens stands up, and steps on to the acting promenade. Matthew Wilson is asleep at the computer, as he was at the start of Scene 3.

DICKENS. Wilson! Wilson! Matthew Wilson! You can log off now. Your project is complete.

WILSON. (“waking up” out of his dream) Thanks, Mr. Dickens, one of our greatest novelists. You’ve provided us with a rich display of larger-than-life characters, who offer us the whole spectrum of human life: happiness, misery, tragedy, comedy, exploitation, sympathy, crime, family life, childhood, school life, childhood, death and life!

He approaches Charles Dickens on to the acting promenade, but the nearer he gets to Dickens the more mesmerised he seems to be. When he comes face to face with Dickens he appears to faint, and collapses on to the floor, and curls up asleep.

All the actors stand up in the audience, and, each reciting a line from their scripts in mesmerising style, come forward and stand either side of the acting promenade. Wilson is still in a vivid and haunting dream. Finally, Mr. Hall appears in his office, as in Scene 2.

MR. HALL. It will be a good project, Wilson, one of your specials. And I’ll give you a week.

The first Oliver Twist – Callum McLeod – steps on to the acting promenade, carrying this time not his bowl but the play script of whatthedickens.com. He hands the script to Mr. Hall.

OLIVER/McLEOD. Please sir, here is some more.

MR. HALL. Thank you, Oliver Twist! (He opens the script) I’ll just check the names.

As he reads out the names, the relevant actor steps on to the acting promenade, as in a Curtain Call.

MR. HALL. Kindly Mr. Micawber, the convict Magwitch, conscientious Nicholas Nickleby, the schoolboy Bitzer, the blacksmith Joe Gargery, the Artful Dodger, Fagin, Charley Bates, Oliver Twist – (They all step on to the acting promenade) – Daniel Peggotty, Uriah Heep, David Copperfield, Mr. Creakle –

CREAKLE. (to Mr. Hall) What am I?

MR. HALL. A tartar! – Mr. Gradgrind, and, last but not least, Wackford Squeers.

DICKENS. They’re all here.

He claps his hands, and they all bow, first to one side of the audience and then the other. They all go back to their places – silence. Matthew Wilson is left lying asleep on the acting promenade. A recording of the first part of Scene 2 is heard. At the line “and I’ll give you a week” the recording appears to stop, but replays over and over that line, each time gradually quieter. Blackout. Then houselights up.

– THE END –

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BONUS SCENE

Bitzer is invited by Charles Dickens to step on to the acting promenade.

BITZER. Mr. Dickens has invited me to introduce, by way of encore, two more of his priceless characters: Mr. and Mrs. Bumble, from Oliver Twist. Mr. Bumble had been parish beadle and superintendent of the local workhouse, but he has two months ago married the workhouse matron, the widowed Mrs. Corney. Mr. Bumble us now master of the work house, but is not altogether happy.

MR. BUMBLE. And tomorrow two months it was done. I sold myself, for six teaspoons, a pair of sugar tongs, and a milk pot. I went very reasonable, very cheap.

MRS. BUMBLE. Cheap! You would have been dear at any price, and dear enough I paid for you, Lord above knows that!

MR. BUMBLE. Mrs. Bumble ma’am.

MRS. BUMBLE. Well?

MR. BUMBLE. Have the goodness to look at me. (aside, to audience) If she stands such a eye as that, she can stand anything. It is a eye I never knew to fail.

DICKENS. Well, Bitzer? What did Mrs. Bumble do?

BITZER. She laughed!

DICKENS. And then?

BITZER. And then Mr. Bumble, rendered helpless by this unexpected reaction, sat there, dumbfounded, and presently fell asleep. (Mr. Bumble snores)

MRS. BUMBLE. Are you going to sit snoring there, all day?

MR. BUMBLE. I am going to sit here, as long as I think proper, ma’am. And although I was not snoring, I shall snore, gape, sneer, laugh, or cry, as the humour strikes me; such being my prerogative.

BITZER. Wait for it!

MRS. BUMBLE. Your prerogative?

MR. BUMBLE. (a little put out) My prerogative! I said the word, ma’am. The prerogative of a man is to command.

MRS. BUMBLE. And what’s the prerogative of a woman, in the name of Goodness?

MR. BUMBLE. To obey, ma’am. Your late unfortunate husband, the departed Mr. Corney, should have taught it you; and then, perhaps, he might have been alive now. I wish he was, poor man!

BITZER. At this unexpected taunt, Mrs. Bumble starts to weep.

MR. BUMBLE. (sensing victory) Tears will not find their way to my soul. My heart is waterproof. So weep away, ma’am, weep away, it opens the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises the eyes, and softens down the temper. (he puts on his hat)

MRS. BUMBLE. (removing his hat and throwing it across the room. She then smacks him about the head violently) Get up, and take yourself away from here, unless you want me to do something desperate.

BITZER. Poor Mr. Bumble!

MR. BUMBLE. And tomorrow two months it was done. It seems an age!

BITZER. And poor Mrs. Bumble!

MRS. BUMBLE. His prerogative indeed!

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©Philip Blackshaw 2004

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