The Poems and Verses of Charles Dickens Part 8

They watch'd the whiten'd ashy heap, They touch'd the child in vain; They did not leave him there asleep, He never woke again.

PROLOGUE TO WILKIE COLLINS'S PLAY 'THE FROZEN DEEP'

1856

'THE FROZEN DEEP'

The second drama written by Wilkie Collins for the Tavistock House Theatre was first acted there in January 1857, and subsequently at the Gallery of Ill.u.s.tration in the presence of Queen Victoria and the Royal Family. As in the case of _The Lighthouse_, the play had the advantage of a Prologue in rhyme by Charles d.i.c.kens, who again electrified his audiences by marvellous acting, the character of Richard Wardour (a young naval officer) being selected by him for representation.

The Prologue was recited at Tavistock House by John Forster, and at the public performances of the play by d.i.c.kens himself.

It is not generally known that a by no means inconsiderable portion of the drama was composed by d.i.c.kens, as testified by the original ma.n.u.scripts of the play and of the prompt-book, which contain numerous additions and corrections in his handwriting. These ma.n.u.scripts, by the way, realised 300 at Sotheby's in 1890.

The main idea of _A Tale of Two Cities_ was conceived by d.i.c.kens when performing in _The Frozen Deep_. 'A strong desire was upon me then,' he writes in the preface to the story, 'to embody it in my own person; and I traced out in my fancy the state of mind of which it would necessitate the presentation to an observant spectator, with particular care and interest.

As the idea became familiar to me, it gradually shaped itself into its present form. Throughout its execution, it has had complete possession of me: I have so far verified what is done and suffered in these pages, as that I have certainly done and suffered it all myself.'

PROLOGUE TO 'THE FROZEN DEEP'

(_Curtain rises; mists and darkness; soft music throughout._)

One savage footprint on the lonely sh.o.r.e Where one man listen'd to the surge's roar, Not all the winds that stir the mighty sea Can ever ruffle in the memory.

If such its interest and thrall, O then Pause on the footprints of heroic men, Making a garden of the desert wide Where Parry conquer'd death and Franklin died.

To that white region where the Lost lie low, Wrapt in their mantles of eternal snow,-- Unvisited by change, nothing to mock Those statues sculptured in the icy rock, We pray your company; that hearts as true (Though nothings of the air) may live for you; Nor only yet that on our little gla.s.s A faint reflection of those wilds may pa.s.s, But that the secrets of the vast Profound Within us, an exploring hand may sound, Testing the region of the ice-bound soul, Seeking the pa.s.sage at its northern pole, Softening the horrors of its wintry sleep, Melting the surface of that 'Frozen Deep.'

Vanish, ye mists! But ere this gloom departs, And to the union of three sister arts We give a winter evening, good to know That in the charms of such another show, That in the fiction of a friendly play, The Arctic sailors, too, put gloom away, Forgot their long night, saw no starry dome, Hail'd the warm sun, and were again at Home.

Vanish, ye mists! Not yet do we repair To the still country of the piercing air; But seek, before we cross the troubled seas, An English hearth and Devon's waving trees.

A CHILD'S HYMN FROM 'THE WRECK OF THE GOLDEN MARY'

1856

A CHILD'S HYMN

The Christmas number of _Household Words_ for 1856 is especially noteworthy as containing the Hymn of five verses which d.i.c.kens contributed to the second chapter. This made a highly favourable impression, and a certain clergyman, the Rev. R. H. Davies, was induced to express to the editor of _Household Words_ his grat.i.tude to the author of these lines for having thus conveyed to innumerable readers such true religious sentiments. In acknowledging the receipt of the letter, d.i.c.kens observed that such a mark of approval was none the less gratifying to him because he was himself the author of the Hymn. 'There cannot be many men, I believe,' he added, 'who have a more humble veneration for the New Testament, or a more profound conviction of its all-sufficiency, than I have. If I am ever (as you tell me I am) mistaken on this subject, it is because I discountenance all obtrusive professions of and tradings in religion, as one of the main causes why real Christianity has been r.e.t.a.r.ded in this world; and because my observation of life induces me to hold in unspeakable dread and horror those unseemly squabbles about the letter which drive the spirit out of hundreds of thousands.'--_Vide_ Forster's _Life of Charles d.i.c.kens_, Book XI. iii.

A CHILD'S HYMN

Hear my prayer, O! Heavenly Father, Ere I lay me down to sleep; Bid Thy Angels, pure and holy, Round my bed their vigil keep.

My sins are heavy, but Thy mercy Far outweighs them every one; Down before Thy Cross I cast them, Trusting in Thy help alone.

Keep me through this night of peril Underneath its boundless shade; Take me to Thy rest, I pray Thee, When my pilgrimage is made.

None shall measure out Thy patience By the span of human thought; None shall bound the tender mercies Which Thy Holy Son has bought.

Pardon all my past transgressions, Give me strength for days to come; Guide and guard me with Thy blessing Till Thy Angels bid me home.

Edinburgh: Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE

Footnotes:

[1] Sir Martin Archer Shee, P.R.A.

[2] When Winstanley had brought his work to completion, he is said to have expressed himself so satisfied as to its strength, that he only wished he might be there in the fiercest storm that ever blew. His wish was gratified, and, contrary to his expectations, both he and the building were swept completely away by a furious tempest which burst along the coast in November 1703.