Just three sacks of mail for you this morning.
The usual marriage requests, posies, knick-knacks.
An invitation for you to speak in Parliament.
Several pairs of ladies under things,
and just one claim you sired someone's child.
Please, God, no more children.
And there's one for me from my publisher,
asking when they might expect the cookbook they commissioned from me.
This letter bears the Royal Seal.
From Queen Victoria herself.
She's heard of my acclaimed portrayal
in our production of The Frozen Deep
and writes to request a private command performance.
-For when? -Before she leaves for Balmoral for the summer.
But there's no time. We both have books to finish.
I must gather the cast.
We shall rehearse in the drawing room at every opportunity.
(SIGHS)
To play to her Imperial Majesty places one beyond criticism.
Not that I've ever been the recipient of a bad review,
whether literary or indeed thespian.
Another billet-doux from Copenhagen.
"In honour of St Valentine, I send my fondest desirings
to one whose work I could not love more largely.
Hans Christian Andersen."
Warrants a reply, wouldn't you say?
I think it best you don't encourage him.
He is a devoted reader and Dickens enthusiast.
Letters from Mr Andersen...
I will not discourage someone who exhibits
such exceedingly good taste.
..56, 57.
Am I to assume the Valentine card from you, my loving husband,
is in the afternoon post?
'My dearest Hans...'
"Clara... Clara... Clara..."
"Clara, kiss me."
"Oh, kiss me, Clara."
(DOORBELL RINGS) I'm in the bath!
"Kiss me, sister."
"Kiss ME, sister. Kiss me..."
(DOORBELL RINGS) I'm in the bath!
(MUSIC PLAYING)
(DOORBELL RINGS, KNOCK AT DOOR)
(IN THE DISTANCE) "..my sister..."
(DOORBELL RINGS)
Will someone attend to the door?!
(DOORBELL RINGS REPEATEDLY)
(SIGHS)
(DOOR SHUTS)
-Hello. -Hello.
(MUTTERING) ..at this ungodly hour.
Hans?
My own Dickens.
Good Lord.
(LAUGHS)
What brings you to my door? Your invitation.
My what?(CHUCKLES)
"My dearest Hans. If ever you happen to be in England,
you'll be most welcome at Gad's Hill."
I ever happen to be in England.
-Hello! -Ah...
Charles, to whom are you talking?
The house of Dickens. Catherine...
this is Hans Christian Andersen.
Hans, please meet my wife, Catherine.
The wife of Dickens.
(SMOOCHES) Oh.
We've been expecting a visit from Mr Andersen, haven't we, my dear?
Of course.
It is such a delightful surprise to finally meet you
after all of your tireless correspondence.
Oh, you're staying with us.
These will be the happiest days of my life.
How wonderful.
Here you are. A Timber Doodle to set you right.
Most esteemed Dickens.
I have for you a gift.
Oh. (CHUCKLES)
"To Be Or Not To Be, by Hans Christian Andersen."
The children will be delighted!
No, no, no. It is a novel for the adults.
I wish to be a writer of serious, like you.
"For Charles Dickens."
Oh, Hans.
You should read it. Read it tonight.
In bed.
This is a book that should be savoured.
I must take my time.
Yes. Yes, you are right.
You should begin it now.
It is, I dare to say, a master's piece.
Read it.
Yeah. I will watch.
I should see how Mrs Dickens fares.
I have had to remove all my work from the guest bedroom
to accommodate Mr Andersen.
What on Earth is he doing here?
It's quite the mystery. How long is he staying?
Oh, not long. I'm sure.
I do hope not.
I was midway through writing up my recipe for badger ham.
Oh, I love badger ham! I'm already behind on my deadline.
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)
Dickens!
(PANTING) You are great England's national treasure maybe.
But you forgot my book. Definitely.
Oh, so I did. It is impressively upsetting.
Your room is ready, Mr Andersen.
Mrs Dickens, I have for you.
Oh, how lovely.
And this is...
It is my special bowl for my eatings.
Oh. (CHUCKLES)
(DOOR CLOSES) Oh. Good morning, Mr Andersen.
Did you sleep well?
Terribly. It must be the most uncomfortable night of my life.
Or maybe that was the brothel in Antwerp.
No, no. It was definitely here.
Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that.
The one consolation was knowing that you were reading my book, Dickens.
Hans, let me introduce you to my children.
This is Chickenstalker.
Mr H.
And the noble Plorn! Charles!
Francis, Henry and Edward.
-Mary.Mamie.Kate. -Lucifer Box.
-And Walter. -Young Skull!
(CLATTERING) Ow! Alfred and Sydney.
Skittles and the Admiral.
And this is Charlie.
-Charlie. -Damn.
And they say your stories have too many peoples in them. (CHUCKLES)
Busy old Dickens! (CHUCKLES)
Please, sir. Can I have some more? (LAUGHS)
Children, this is Hans Christian Andersen,
the world-famous children's author.
And now the writer for the adults.
He has come to witness my genius first hand.
(SLURPS) I have no wifes and no childrens,
but I have sown my seeds across the corners of the world.
Are you planning to stay in England long, Mr Andersen?
Is someone looking after your house?
House? No, I have no house.
I stay wherever I am invited.
(BURPS)
(CHILDREN SNICKER)
(PEN SCRAWLING)
It is an honour to watch your father at his works.
Sorry.
(PEN CONTINUES SCRAWLING)
(GASPS) This is unsupportable!
I have a deadline to meet, not to mention a play to rehearse!
How can I concentrate with this relentless racket?!
I could read them something.
Yes, well. That's very generous of you, Hans, thank you. Er...
Something of mine.
Oh, YOUR book?
(CHUCKLING) Do not worry. I shall return it in the blink of a thigh.
Oh! (CHUCKLES) "The night was bitterly cold but the bed was warm.
And as he pulled his legs up to the body of the woman he had paid..."
Ah, good morning, Mrs Dickens.
Good morning... Mr Andersen.
I have abandoned my underwearings in the bathroom.
Kindly reunite them with your...legs.
You are so full of the liquorice today, Catherine.
No, Mr Andersen!
Mr Andersen! No!
-No! -CHILD SHOUTING: Ass!
-Edward, stay in there. -Ass!
(HANS SINGING TO HIMSELF)
(SINGING CONTINUES)
(DISTANT, NOISY THUMPING) "I know nothing.
Only that he... Father!"
I imagined he might be of some service entertaining the children
with his fairy stories. But instead, he fills their heads
with all sorts of er... dockside ballyhoo!
This morning, Edward asked me what a brothel was.
Oh, Catherine. You do not understand writers.
Men of literary genius should be indulged.
Yet you have not indulged Hans by reading his book.
(LAUGHING) No, I have not.
I fear he will not depart our home
until you bestow some favourable opinion upon his novel.
It is enormous. I will not have time.
Why must people write such colossal books?
(DISTANT THUMPING, LAUGHTER AND MUSIC CONTINUE)
Read his book, tell him you love it, and then he will go!
What if it is no good? I will not know what to say.
Harsh criticism can hurt people...
I imagine.
-You imagine? -It's unfortunate, but I alone among authors
would be unable to comfort the poor man.(DOOR OPENS)
(RECORDER WHISTLING, DRUM THUMPING, CHILDREN SHOUTING)
-Oh, ho! -No, Edward!
-Edward, no! -Yeah!
(CHILDREN CONTINUE SHOUTING) Sssh!
No! Francis, you should not...
(LAUGHING)
I simply do not understand where he got the idea
that he was welcome to come and stay with us.
No, me neither.
'Tis peculiar, is it not?
"My dearest Hans.
If you ever happen to be in England, you will be most welcome at...
..Gad's Hill."
"My mind clears, but my eyes grow dim.
My sister... Clara.
Kiss me, sister.
Kiss me before I die."
(DOOR OPENS) You invited him!
Catherine, I was just dying!
Good! You were terribly good, Mr Dickens.
You invited that boorish ne'er-do-well into our home,
and now we are unable to cast him o...
Oh! (CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY)
-Mr Andersen. -Are you not happy with me as your guest?
-What? Of course. -Ye... N.. Yes... -We are happy with you. -No, no.
-You misunderstand. -I haven't over-remained my welcomes, no?
No. The children love you. I love you.
Catherine...likes you.
Oh, thank you!
Oh, I am so happy to be your rest.
May I have a word?
What possessed you to invite that Nordic cuckoo?
I did not really invite him, I was being polite.
Polite? You?
It's impossible for me to get any work done with him here.
Personally, I find having him here quite helpful. A bit of a boost.
It's good to have someone here who has faith in my genius.
Who does not prattle on about cuckoos and cookbooks.
Someone who's prepared to put my welfare before their own!
Where are you going?
Wife!
Wife? (BOX SLAMS SHUT)
For 21 years I have been putting your welfare before my own.
There. What are these?
Bad reviews of your work.
See?
From Pickwick Papers to Little Doritt.
Oh, some veritable stinkers for that last one.
Did you write these? Are you...
-..a critic?! -No.
I removed them whenever they appeared in your daily newspaper
and concealed them in my trousseau.
-Why? -So you could remain Dickens!
The mighty un-criticised Dickens!
I did that for you.
And why preserve them?
So I could read them privately, whenever I was furious with you.
So I would not feel quite so alone.
(DOOR OPENS)
(DOOR SLAMS)
"Mr Dickens is a..." (SHUDDERS)
"..vain, silly and transparent cockscomb."
That's just mean.
You're wearing my bridal gown!
Yes. Imagine being married to the great Charles Dickens
wearing this dress.
Everyone watching.
I was just this moment reading about the happy day, here in your diaries.
Mr Andersen, my diary, like my wardrobe, is private!
I find, tucked in your diary also, these works in your hand, yes?
I did write those, yes.
You are an artist.
Really, you think so?
That is most kind. Is not kindness. Is truth.
He must be so proud of you to write such poems.
Er...they're not poems. They're recipes.
What-ipes? For a cookbook.
Mrs Dickens, your...
..recipes make me weep.
I am honoured to make the acquaintance of such a poet of soup.
(CLEARS THROAT) Maybe we could pick it up from after your death.
You could just lie there.
How can I lie there?
I am, it seems, a "maudlin boob" and a "circumloquacious ninny."
Oh.
What is your matter, my friend?
Mr Dickens fears that he's no Earthly good.
What absolute nonsense.
Without the fire that this man has lit inside my bottom,
I would not have written this.
And when my new novel transforms my reputation
from ugly fairy-tale duckling to fat literary swan,
it will be down to the encouragement of this wonderful man.
Good, is it, Mr Andersen's book?
Er...yes, it's marvellous.
You have read it?
What was your favourite part?
All of it.(GASPS) Oh, you burst my chest.
I particularly enjoyed that you ended with an inheritance plot
so convoluted and improbable
it would insult the intelligence of a whelk.
-What? -No, my mistake.
That was me...
..according to the London Weekly Post.
-You insult yourself? -No, sir! I insult whelks.
It is here in black and white.
This, Charles, is criticism.
(BLOWS)
And she is gone.
A work that is good lives by itself and needs no opinions,
save those of friends.
I believe in you.
-Thank you. -No, thank you.
Aw!
Ow! (GROANS)
(THUNDER RUMBLES)
Whenever will he leave?
He's a good man. He means well.
I think we have misjudged him.
Oh, sweet Lord.
(BLOWS)
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)
(DOOR CREAKS OPEN)
It is very raining on the windows in my room.
I will come and sleep here with you instead.
Ah! (KISSES BOTH)
(THUMPS)
We must be rid of him.
He was tossing and turning all night.
-I know. -And when I say tossing -
I know, I know!
What else can I do? I've told him I love his wretched book.
-You must tell him to leave! -Yes, well, I'm just not very good with...
words. You are Charles Dickens!
And you will find the words, or God help me!
(DOOR OPENS)
Oh, Mr Andersen.
Are you going somewhere?
Yes, yes. Indeed.
I will partake of a small breakfast biscuit, perhaps.
And then I must be taking my leaves. You're going?
-Oh, what a shame. -I hoped in my heart you would praise my new book,
-and you have. -Yes! Yes, I did.
So now I go.
I will miss you very much.
Oh!
(CLEARS THROAT)
Where will you go, Hans?
I...
sent a copy of my book to the famous novel writer Anthony Trollope,
and I plan to spend a few nights or months with him
reading through his favourite passages.
Capital idea. Tony will love that.
Yes, he will love that!
He will.(CHUCKLES)
My book is excellent. I know because my idol, Charles Dickens, says so.
Yes-s-s-s-s!
Catherine, are you shushing to conceal the fact
you're tearing a portion out of the London Weekly Post?
-No! -You know what I said.
If there is a review of my work, fair or foul, I will read it!
I am Charles Dickens.
-It is like soot in the wind. -Indeed.
No.
-Catherine. -No.
-Catherine. -No, just try - (FIRMLY) Catherine.
No.
Oh.
Catherine, as a gentleman, you know I cannot retrieve it from there!
Mr Andersen!
I will read it to you. No, please don't.
Pish pish.(CHUCKLES)
Oh, "The great Hans."
Oh.
"Hans Christian Andersen has delighted generations for decades
with his tales of princesses, emperors and Mer creatures.
His debut foray into the adult novel asks the question...
..'Should he have strayed from the fantasy land
in which he was so popular?'"
Yes, yes, yes, he should. There you go.
They love the book as much as I do, no need to read any further.
"When compared to the contemporaries he pitches himself against,
like the matchless Charles Dickens..." (CHUCKLES)
"..Mr Andersen's attempts are laughable."
(SIGHS)
(WHINES)
(WHINING CONTINUES)
Like soot in the wind, Hans. Like soot in the wind.
(WHINING CONTINUES)
(MOUTHING)
(KISSES) Ah!
You love my book?
Yes. Yes.
What did you like best about my book?
Er...the...
..the mermaid.
-The mermaid? -The duckling? The ugly duckling?
(GASPING) Oh, you never read my book!
(GRITTING TEETH) I will, Hans. I will!
-He lied to me! -No!
No, I was going to read it after I finished my play,
but books are so long these days, one seldom gets the time.
Well, I cannot go to see Mr Trollope now, can I?
I will be his laughing sock.
No! No, you must...stay...here with us!
Take off your hat, take off your coat.
Oh, I can unpack my suitcases.
Yes, do that.
Oh, oh, thank you.
Dickens, thank you.
Oh. (CHUCKLES)
Oh.
I know I am safe if I am with you.
(DOOR OPENS, CLOSES)
'Hans stayed with us for five whole weeks.
He wrote a glowing review for a Danish newspaper
of his stay with, and I quote,
"The happy and cordial Dickens."'
'By the time it was published,
Charles and I were already divorced.'
'Dickens never wrote to me again.
I never understood why.'
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