Richard Brinsley Peake was the son of Richard Peake, who was employed for some forty years in the treasury office of Drury Lane Theatre in London. He was born on 19 February 1792 and his name, which echoes that of the famous dramatist Richard Brinsley Sheridan, reflects his family's close ties to the theatre community. He was articled to the well-known engraver James Heath, with whom he remained from 1809 to 1817, by which time he was ready to commit himself to writing for the stage. His first play seems to have been a dramatic sketch, The Bridge that Carries Us Safe Over, which was staged at the English Opera House in 1817. Over a long and productive career he wrote over forty works in a variety of forms, including burlesques, farces (with and without music), comedies of manners, melodramatic romances, musical romances, at least one "operatic romance, and a work called The Meltonians, which is described as "a perfectly illegitimate drama and extravaganza."

A prolific writer, Peake also wrote the verbal text for an 1816 collection of pictures called French Characteristic Costumes, an annals of Cockney sports called Snobson's "Seasons" (1838), a three-volume account of "Cartouche, the Celebrated French Robber" (1844), and his most important non-dramatic work, the Memoirs of the Colman Family (1841), which details the lives of the theatre family of that name. For the final ten years of his life Peake also served as Treasurer at the Lyceum Theatre in London. Despite all these varied activities, when he died on 4 October 1847 he left his large family in precarious financial circumstances.

When Presumption first appeared in 1823, a contemporary reviewer had these decidedly ambivalent comments about Peake and his play:

This gentleman has a very extensive knowledge of what is called the public taste, that is, he can tell when to introduce a pun, or how to dress up an old joke, so as to make the audience laugh for the twentieth time. Possessing this wonderful faculty in a most miraculous manner, he has produced several pieces of the lighter kind, which have been well received. A pun with him was like liquor to the sot,—"meat, drink, washing, and lodging;" but genius will play strange vagaries, so Mr. Peake, supposing supernatural horrors would flow as readily from his creative fancy as wit and humour, turned away from the laughter loving Thalia, to woo her woe-stricken sister;—but oh! the fate of "vaulting ambition," for, after all the efforts of Messrs. Treasurer, Composer,—Scene-painter, Carpenter, &c. the mis-begotten imp of their creation, "Presumption," with difficulty sustains its vitality.

 

Peake's best remembered work is unquestionably Presumption; or, The Fate of Frankenstein, which first played at the English Opera House on 28 July 1823. In its earliest form the play ran for thirty-seven performances during a summer season that ran for only three months, after which it continued to appear (in various forms) at least through 1850. As a consequence of conventions dating back to the 1660s, including the award by Charles II of royal patents for the staging of dramatic works, during the Romantic period only the "Theatres Royal" of Drury Lane and Covent Garden were permitted to present conventional plays (known as "legitimate theatre" and consisting of dramatic tragedy and comedy) under the auspices of the Lord Chamberlain. All other theatres were restricted to alternative forms of drama -- the so-called "illegitimate theatre" -- such as melodrama, burlesque, pantomime, puppet theatre, musical entertainments, and spectacles. Adaptations like Peake's had therefore to include a good deal of music, pantomime, and spectacle to permit their staging in these alternative theatrical venues -- some of which were ampitheatres and even equestrian arenas (e.g., Sadler's Wells, the Royal Circus Theatre, and Astley's Ampitheatre). Not surprisingly, a great deal of the most interesting and innovative -- not to mention often undoubtedly radical and subversive as well -- theatre of the Romantic period in England was to be found in this "illegitimate" theatre rather than in the safe, licensed venues of the patent theatres. Moreover, by the 1830s the minor and alternative theatres had begun with increasing success to challenge the virtual monopoly enjoyed by the patent theatres.

The English Opera House under the direction of Samuel Arnold had by 1816 acquired a license to stage musical farces and ballad operas during the summer months. Not only was the theatre (which was also known as the Lyceum) one of the first to feature interior gas lighting, a fact which it announced prominently in its playbills, but it boasted an unusually high rate of "hit" plays (Moody, 40). Given all of this, Peake's Presumption was a logical candidate for staging there in 1823. Interestingly, the playbill for the original 1823 version, which included music by a composer named Watson, used only the main title, Presumption, and referred to the play as a romance. The play apparently created a considerable sensation. As William St. Clair notes, the English Opera House could in 1823 seat some 1,500 patrons, which meant that a run of 37 performances could have made it possible for the play to have been seen by as many as 55,000 persons. Certainly the number was fewer, but even half that many viewers would have made a real impact. That there was in fact a popular impact is indicated by the fact that Peake's title was soon altered on the playbills to Frankenstein; or, The Danger of Presumption. Another sure sign of the play's impact was the appearance in rapid succession of several burlesques, which of course drew for their full effect upon their audiences' familiarity with Presumption and -- to a lesser extent -- with Mary Shelley's novel itself. As frequently happens with modern film versions of literary works, many audiences in the 1820s made their first acquaintance with Frankenstein not through the printed text of Shelley's novel but rather through one of the staged versions. For many such readers, as for readers today who have grown up on the dozens of twentieth-century cinematic versions of Frankenstein, their reaction if and when they read the actual novel must have been one of considerable surprise, for it surely delivered something very different from what their experience with stage versions must inevitably have led them to expect.

Meanwhile, a second play on the Frankenstein theme, Henry M. Milner's Frankenstein, or the Demon of Switzerland, had opened on 18 August at the still larger Cobourg Theatre (St. Clair, 52, reports that it could hold an audience of 3800!). This play, which drew upon both Mary Shelley's novel and a French work called Le Magicien et le Monstre (The Magician and the Monster), was followed in 1826 by an adaptation (also by Milner) called The Man and the Monster! or, The Fate of Frankenstein, which, like Peake's play, was subsequently retitled as Frankenstein; or, The Monster to capitalize on its sensational subject matter. Already by the 1830s, then, as St. Clair observes, the roles, characters, and identities of Victor Frankenstein and his miserable Creature had begun to seem interchangeable: "it was already common for the nameless monster to be called 'Frankenstein,' a deliberate confusion put about by the actors" (53). That this is so lends particular irony to the observations and predictions made by the reviewer for the Mirror of the Stage; or, New Dramatic Censor, who wrote in August 1823 that "this drama would perhaps have done very well as an afterpiece; but there is not sufficient interest for a first piece of three acts: it may live for a few nights, but it never can have a long run" (n.s. 3:13). For a work that the same critic called "the silly nothing at the English Opera" (n.s. 3:22), Presumption, together with all the subsequent stage and cinematic versions, became part of one of the most remarkable and sustained cultural phenomena of the modern world.

 

Novel into Drama and onto the Stage

Because Peake's play was designed for presentation in an "illegitimate" theatre -- that is, in a theatre other than Covent Garden or Drury Lane, the only theatres licensed to present conventional tragedy and comedy -- it was necessary for its author to include elements that would safeguard the production from claims that it infringed on the prerogatives of those "legitimate" theatres. Chiefly, this meant that the play would have to include a significant amount of music, as well as elements of spectacle of the sort that were familiar features at venues like the English Opera House, the Royal Cobourg Theatre, or Astley's Ampitheatre. The resulting play was very much a mixed sort of production that combined elements of music, high and low comedy, and stage spectacle. In many ways the play may be said to prefigure elements that would later come to be associated with the English music hall, with burlesque, and with the modern musical comedy. To some, extent, then, Peake's play offered "something for everyone," although the result was that the play clearly lacks the sort of dominant aesthetic or dramatic unity we have come to associate with more modern versions of Mary Shelley's novel, and particularly with twentieth-century film versions.

We can get some sense of the way the play was performed from no less an expert on its source than Mary Shelley herself, who attended one of the early performances after having been told (incorrectly) that performances were such that women fainted and the audience was horrified. Writing to her and her late husband's friend Leigh Hunt, she had this to say:

Frankenstein had prodigious success as a drama & was about to be repeated for the 23rd night at the English Opera House. The play bill amused me extremely, for in the list of dramatis personæ came, ——— by Mr. T. Cooke: this nameless mode of naming the un[n]ameable is rather good. On Friday Aug 29th Jane[,] My father[,] William & I went to the theatre to see it. Wallack looked very well as F[rankenstein]—he is at the beginning full of hope & expectation—at the end of the 1st Act the stage represents a room with a staircase leading to F['s] workshop—he goes to it and you see his light at a small window, through which a frightened servant peeps, who runs off in terror when F. exclaims "It lives!"—Presently F himself rushes in horror & trepidation from the room and while still expressing his agony & terror——— [i.e., the Creature] throws down the door of the laboratory, leaps the staircase & presents his unearthly & monstrous person on the stage. The story is not well managed—but Cooke played———'s part extremely well—his seeking as it were for support—his trying to grasp at the sounds he heard—all indeed he does well imagined & executed. I was much amused, & it appeared to excite a breathless eagerness in the audience.      (Letters, 1,378)

The Creature's love of music, and his remarkable responses to it, are retained from Mary Shelley's tale in Peake's Presumption, where music functions almost in the fashion of a leitmotif in marking the Creature's stage presence, his entrances and exits. But Peake adds a variety of vocal performances involving solos, duets, and choruses, all of which are shared among the central characters. Interestingly, the fact that the Creature is never given any music of his own -- despite his obvious responsiveness to music -- serves even further to separate and alienate him from the other characters in the drama. While it may of course be hard to envision a singing Creature, one can only be struck by the central dramatic and symbolic role assigned to music both in the first stage version and in the many cinematic versions that have followed in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

The songs are used both to "decorate" the story and to advance its plot. That plot features several significant alterations in the relations among the characters. Elizabeth Frankenstein, for instance, is presented simply as the "sister of Frankenstein" and not as the adopted Elizabeth Lavenza, thus precluding the possibility of maintaining her romantic role as Victor's betrothed lover. Instead, we are told that Victor's friend Clerval is "in love with Elizabeth," a situation that is an entirely logical development from Mary Shelley's novel, where Clerval and Elizabeth are in fact presented as such intellectual and spiritual soulmates that a physical relationship would seem to be the reasonable consequence, were it not for each one's continual protestations of love and admiration for Victor. Peake creates a second couple by following Mary Shelley's lead and pairing Felix DeLacey and the "Arabian girl," Safie, who is reported to be "betrothed to Felix." Finally, to set up yet a third heterosexual romantic pair, Victor is made to be in love with Agatha DeLacey, whose departure from his vicinity is reported to have been a chief contributing factor to Victor's decision to throw himself into his wicked experiments with life, death, and creation. Early in Act II, after the Creature has escaped into the public world, Elizabeth reports to Victor that she has learned (from Safie) that Agatha is in reality only a few miles distant from them, to which news Victor responds: "'Twas her loss that drove me to deep and fatal experiments."

A fourth couple also figures in Presumption: these are the remarkable figures of Fritz, the Swiss servant, and his wife, Madame Ninon. Together they function for comedic purposes: partly they are a burlesque of the more romantic pairings represented by the three young couples, and partly they are an embedded "comedy team" within the larger design of the play. In their goading and bickering they replicate a familiar stock unhappily married couple of the sort that were a staple of the eighteenth-century comedy of manners but whose roots go back to the medieval drama and to the shrewish figure of Noah's wife. At the same time, though, they have one scene entirely to themselves, a scene that is wholly superfluous to either the dramatic or thematic design of Presumption, a situation that recalls the feature-length films of successful comedy teams like Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, in which virtually stand-alone routines for the two comics appear in the midst of a pastiche of musical numbers, romantic comedy, and slapstick. In Act III, Scene II, left alone on stage after one of the blissful scenes featuring two of the young couples (Elizabeth and Clerval, Safie and Felix), they rollick through a pun-filled dialogue about a "beehive cap" that Fritz was supposed to bring his wife from "the miler's at Geneva," a set piece that is followed by an obviously lively vocal duet. Interestingly, in a dramatic master-stroke, Peake allows the final moments of this undoubtedly uproarious scene to be witnessed by the Creature (identified by this time in Peake's stage directions as "the Demon"), who has crept in from one of the entrances. The Creature watches young William (who enters at the end of the Fritz-Ninon scene) now tease Fritz and engage him in a game of ball-throwing that concludes with the Creature's abduction from the stage of the young boy, who will die offstage.

In Fritz, Peake also introduces one of the most enduring features of dramatic and cinematic versions of Frankenstein: the assistant or servant. Like the character of Doctor Watson who later figures in the Sherlock Holmes mysteries both as the reader's representative and as -- quite simply -- someone with whom the otherwise silent and solitary figure can share his thoughts, Fritz performs a comparable intermediary function. Instead of being a direct and integral participant in the main action as Doctor Watson is, however, he is instead an observer, one of whose primary functions is to report his observations to others -- most notably Victor's friend Clerval. In Presumption, Peake provided Fritz with both a sizable role and a set of distinctive eccentricities (most notably his ever-present case of "nerves"). Largely inexplicable when considered purely in terms of dramatic logic, this prominent role is explained by the fact that it was created expressly for the popular comic actor Robert Keeley (see also below, under Cast and Characters) as a vehicle for his particular talents.

Finally, it is worth noting that Mary Shelley's complex plot is radically simplified in Presumption, partly to make time and space more manageable and partly to accommodate all the additional material (especially the musical elements) that Peake introduced into his play. The play is set in "Geneva and its vicinity" and dispenses with Victor's and the Creature's extensive international travels. Likewise, Victor's childhood, youth, and university years are traced briefly in the dialogue rather than physically represented on stage. The framing narrative involving Captain Robert Walton and his polar expedition by sea is eliminated entirely. And Mary Shelley's psychologically compelling rendition of the conclusion of Victor's struggle with the Creature is altered into a relatively brief concluding scene in which the catastrophe is represented in terms of an avalanche brought on by Frankenstein's firing his musket at the Creature, which event is visible to the audience in the distance while it is being reported by Clerval, Felix, and the tinker Hammerpan. Lest this abrupt, contrived conclusion strike the modern reader as too "easy" and uninteresting, it is worth considering the stage directions that describe these final moments:

Music.—Frankenstein discharges his musket.—The Demon and Frankenstein meet at the very extremity of the stage.—Frankenstein fires—the avalanche falls and annihilates the Demon and Frankenstein.—A heavy fall of snow succeeds.—Loud thunder heard, and all the characters form a picture as the curtain falls.

Given that theatres in London at this time were physically equipped to stage volcanic eruptions, floods, battles, storm effects, and even side-by-side racing horses (this latter accomplished with sophisticated systems of treadmills), neither the heavy snowstorm nor the avalanche called for in Peake's script would have been out of the question. Spectacular effects of this sort were one of the chief features of the Romantic theatre -- including the so-called "illegitimate" theatre -- and were often put forward as one justification for theatres' decisions to charge higher prices for admission to elaborately staged or costumed productions.

 

The Cast and Characters

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
English Opera House, 28 July 1823

CHARACTER	DESCRIPTION	ACTOR/ACTRESS
Frankenstein		Mr. Wallack
Clerval	his friend, in love with Elizabeth	Mr. Bland
William	brother of Frankenstein	Master Boden
Fritz	servant of Frankenstein	Mr. Keeley
DeLacey	a banished gentleman -- blind	Mr. Rowbotham
Felix DeLacey	his son	Mr. Pearman
Tanskin	a gipsy	Mr. Shield
Hammerpan	a tinker	Mr. Salter
First Gipsy
A Guide	an old man	Mr. R. Phillips
---------		Mr. T. P. Cooke
Elizabeth	sister of Frankenstein	Mrs. Austin
Agatha	daughter of DeLacey	Miss L. Dance
Safie	an Arabian girl, betrothed to Felix	Miss Povey
Madame Ninon	wife to Fritz	Mrs. T. Weippert
Gipsies, Peasants, Choristers, and Dancers (Male and Female)

Scene-Geneva and its vicinity

 

The Creature.   In the original version the part of the Creature was played by Thomas Potter Cooke (1786-1864), a popular actor who had in his youth served in the British Navy during the Napoleonic Wars. The son of a surgeon, Cooke entered the Navy after his father's death and at the age of ten was present on the ship Raven during the siege of Toulon in 1796. He participated in numerous battles thereafter, building a reputation for courage and gallantry under fire, and he was present at the blockade of Brest. He left the Navy after the Peace of Amiens (1802) and began a long career in the theatre. In what is believed to be only his second role he portrayed Lord Nelson in a production at Astley's Ampitheatre. By 1820 Cooke had successfully established himself as a melodramatic actor specializing particularly in roles as vampires and monsters, undoubtedly capitalizing in these roles upon his large and strong physique and great energy. On 9 August 1820 Cooke enjoyed a huge popular success as Ruthven, the hero of The Vampire, a play derived from the novel of that name by Byron's friend John Polidori. The role in Presumption was under these circumstances a logical one for him, and it firmly established his reputation. Interestingly, like the mild-mannered Boris Karloff (William Henry Pratt) who played the Creature in the film versions of Frankenstein a century later, Cooke was known off stage as a gentleman in every respect. Accoring to one contemporary account, after the season closes at the English Opera House, Cooke "generally returns to the [Royal] Cobourg [Theatre], where he undertakes the duty of stage-manager, where his kind conciliating manner and gentlemanly conduct has endeared him to all his brother actors" (Mirror of the Stage, n.s. 1:19).

Because Peake's script presents a Creature who never speaks, Cooke was hard pressed, having to make do with elaborate pantomime and dumbshow in his portrayal. Peake radically reduced the Creature's complexity (and therefore both his power and his pathos), leaving him as little more than a brute -- albeit one with a remarkable susceptibility to the power of music. Nevertheless, Cooke scored a coup in his portrayal, enduing the Creature with a "capacity for intense feeling and psychological pain" (Moody, 94). Indeed, the British Stage, which reviewed his performance, commented enthusiastically on his ability to capture at once the Creature's "great strength," "towering gait," and "reckless cruelty," on the one hand, and his stunned and almost sublime response to hearing "a concord of sweet sounds" on the other (British Stage, and Literary Cabinet, 1823, 5:30-31). In the original playbill the Creature is not even given a descriptive name but is instead represented merely by a set of dashes, so thoroughly has he been divested in Peake's script of any personal identity or human dignity. One is reminded of Samuel Beckett's malformed character, "the Unnamable." Interestingly, when Universal Pictures produced the first widely successful movie version, James Whale's Frankenstein (1931), the Creature was played by William Henry Pratt, who was given the stage name "Karloff," without any apparent Christian name to accompany it. In its choice of name, Universal was probably capitalizing upon the still fresh Western memories of the violence and atrocities associated with the Bolshevik revolution in Russia and its Stalinist heirs, despite the rise in Germany already at that early date of a more ominous and bloodthirsty totalitarian regime. Only later was the Christian name "Boris" added to the original profoundly Slavic invented surname "Karloff."

Victor Frankenstein.   Victor was originally played by James William Wallack (1795?-1864), who was in 1823 an internationally acclaimed actor whose American acting company would go on to produce many of of the most important 19th-century American stage performers. The son of a London stage family, he was by the age of twelve already acting in the plays of Shakespeare and Sheridan at Drury Lane, where he subsequently played many increasingly important roles. After an American debut as Hamlet in 1818, he returned to Drury Lane in 1820, reprising his performance as Hamlet before playing in the first performance of Byron's Marino Faliero in April 1821. By the time of his appearance in Presumption in July 1823 he was a well established supporting actor to leading stars like Edmund Kean and William Macready. Known for the "dignity of movement and majesty of action" he brought to his acting, Wallack was nevertheless faulted for a lack of dramatic fervor and for an inability to sustain touching pathos. A contemporary wrote in 1826 that while Wallack may well have been "the best practical actor in the world," possessing "capabilities for becoming the first light comedian in the world," "we are grieved to add, that genius and mind are attributes to which he has but slender claims. Indeed, this writer concluded, "it is fair to presume that he is now as good an actor as he will ever be" (Oxberry, 6: 188-90). In 1837, with his brother Henry John Wallack, he essentially left the English stage to assume the directorship of the National Theatre in New York, although in fact he continued occasional acting tours in the British Isles.

One contemporary observer gives this account of Wallack's performance as Victor Frankenstein: "Mr. Wallack's personation of the agonised student, whose fatal curiosity, and still more fatal success, was sustained with great feeling and talent. He appeared to enter into the realities and strong spirit of the character, and by his gracefulness of attitude, and transitions of countenance, rendered the part highly interesting and deeply impressive.

He look'd the student, whose all fatal daring
    Long sigh'd to pierce what's hid from mortal sight,
Whose noon of life was wasted in preparing --
    A spectral form -- too hideous for the sight!"
                                                             (Marshall, 65).

Wallack's physical attractiveness undoubtedly enhanced his effectiveness as Victor Frankenstein. With his dark eyes and hair and his symmetrical, attractive five-foot-eight frame, it is little surprise to learn that he was called in his time "the most handsome man upon the London stage" (Oxberry, 5:192).

Fritz.   The popular comedian Robert Keeley first appeared in this part, which Peake is said to have been written expressly for him (Oxberry, 5:151). One of sixteen children, Keeley was born in 1793, apprenticed to a printer, and after some early work both on stage and as a printer for the theatrical writer and critic William Oxberry finally established himself on stage by 1817. In 1821 he was an enormous success in the role of Jemmy Green in a production at the Adelphi Theatre of Tom and Jerry derived from Pierce Egan's popular book, Tom and Jerry; or. Life in London. He was noted as much for his small stature (he was just over five feet tall) as for his comic roles, most of which were -- like that of Fritz -- written for him and therefore tended to become ever more similar in nature and substance, so much so that he was regarded as a "mannerist," or what today is called a "stock" character actor whose roles become inseparable from the actor himself. A contemporary observed that "however he may multiply his characters, vary his dresses, his wigs, or his words, it is Robert Keeley, and nothing else" (Oxberry, 5:152). Keeley and his wife performed in a long series of farces and other "light" works; they later expanded their efforts to theatre management, involving themselves in the production of farces and burlesques whose generally popular success the more conservative and conventional theatre critics found utterly scandalous: "What a glorious opportunity has been thrown away . . . . [A]s they could not engross to the class of their own individual performance the entire intellectuality of the national drama, they tumbled into buffoonery" (Marshall, 107).

Keeley's portrayal of the eccentric, nervous Fritz made the servant-assistant a fixture of subsequent stage and film productions of Frankenstein, but it disappointed some who observed it. According to one contemporary critic, "in Fritz, (could we believe a Swiss peasant to be such a victim to nerves) he is excellent, but he is not comic; the creature he creates, shocks us; and we feel too much for the degradation of human nature, to be amused" (Oxberry, 5:153). Interestingly, these comments reflect the double-edged sword faced by most character actors, if not by all actors generally: once one plays a role successfully, one runs the risk of being so totally associated with that role that any subsequent performance is measured by that earlier role and found wanting to the extent that it deviates from the expectations which that performance has established.

Clerval.   "Mr. Bland" was probably James Bland. James Bland is listed as appearing with Miss Povey in the very successful run of Gil Blas at the English Opera House in August 1822, during a season when Mr. Rowbotham (see DeLacey, below) was also in the cast. Bland was one of the sons of the talented singer and actress Mrs. Bland (née Romanzini), whose notorious infidelities had led her husband to abandon her and emigrate to America; she eventually went mad in 1824. James Bland seems to have been a relative newcomer to the English stage in 1823; in1824-25 it was reported that he "performed at the English Opera last season; but his efforts were not very promising." Commenting on the 1824 season at the English Opera House, Oxberry's Dramatic Biography reported that "Mr. Bland [presumably James] is melancholy about his reception last season" (Oxberry, 2:191). Another "Mr. Bland," George, was also active in the 1820s; this may have been another of Mrs. Bland's several children, and perhaps the one of whom the same source noted that "theatrical report speaks highly" (Oxberry, 1:167).

Felix DeLacey.   The role of Felix was played by William Pearman, who was most active c. 1810-24. Pearman was born in Manchester in 1792 and, like Thomas Potter Cooke, served in the Navy, retiring after being wounded in the leg. A small man (said to stand only five foot three), Pearman carried himself with such grace that the lameness that resulted from his wound was seldom apparent. He attempted a career as an actor, with little success, but he gradually became known as a singer in theatres outside London, despite having only limited vocal abilities; his low tenor voice was narrow in range, and too soft to be effective in larger theatres. Nevertheless, by 1822 Pearman was accounted "first singer at the English Opera," which led to an unsuccessful engagement at Covent Garden.

Given the grace of his bearing, the delicacy of his voice, and a countenance that was described at the time as "decidedly foreign" (Oxberry 1:151), it is not surprising that Pearman was selected for the romantic role of the young French exile, Felix DeLacey. While it may be mere coincidence, it is worth noting that among the actors and actresses about whom I have been able to discover significant information, Pearman, Robert Keeley (who played Fritz), and Mary Ann Povey (Safie) are all described as very short or (in Povey's case) petite; their relatively small physical size as members of a stage ensemble would naturally have served to emphasize even more the comparatively large physical stature of Thomas Potter Cooke, who at nearly six feet in height was playing the Creature.

DeLacey.   I have been unable to learn much about the "Mr. Rowbothom" identified with this role on the 1823 playbill, although he is mentioned in connection with several productions at the English Opera House during the 1820s. Samuel Arnold, who managed the theatre, had annoyed the orthodox London theatre establishment -- and delighted many crtitics -- by enlisting the talents of a considerable number of provincial actors and actresses (William Pearman is a good example). Rowbotham was one of these, known for his versatility within the confines imposed by essentially similar character roles. The Mirror of the Stage reported in 1824 that "this gentleman is at the head of that corps of actors denominated 'useful;' like the Duke Aranza's cottage furniture, serving a dozen purposes with equal propriety." The Mirror's writer found Rowbotham too methodical, too studied, and too much lacking in spontaneity, however, even likening his talent to "the carved work of a bed post." But the same writer observed nevertheless that his forte was the portrayal of patriarchs: "we identify Rowbotham with vigorous old age: the gnarled oak, boisterous in nakedness, and we wish, with all the imperfections of this actor, that the Minor Theatre had more of his quality" (Mirror of the Stage, n.s. 4:129). Given the nature of the elder DeLacey's role, it is not hard to understand why Rowbotham was cast in the part.

William Frankenstein.   The role of Victor Frankenstein's young brother was played in 1823 by a "Master Boden," about whom I have been unable to learn anything substantial. Presumably he was a child or adolescent actor.

Elizabeth.   The 1823 playbill lists "Miss Austin," who was probably the Elizabeth Austin who is also called "Mrs. Austin" during the same year, 1823. She appears to have been a familar actress and singer in productions at Drury Lane. Surprisingly little information exists about her or her stage career.

Agatha DeLacey.   The original production included Miss L. Dance in the role of Agatha. This is Louisa Dance, who had made her debut at the English Opera House in The Marriage of Figaro. Like "Miss Austin," she remains relatively elusive. She seems to have been another of the singer-actresses who performed frequently at the English Opera House, with some additional regular-season work in Drury Lane or Covent Garden. The Mirror of the Stage wrote of her performance in The Marriage of Figaro in 1823 that her vocal abilities were insufficient to the demands of such a musical work, partly owing to her limited range, though it held out hope that practice might yet make her -- if not perfect, at least "valuable" as a singer (n.s. 3:11). She is described as tall and vivacious, with a "lady-like and elegant" bearing (Mirror of the Stage n.s. 2:202).

Safie.   "Miss Povey" would seem to be Mary Ann Povey, who later married a son of the Drury Lane figure, Knight. Born in Birmingham in 1804, she gained an early reputation as a vocalist. Surviving a potentially career-ending illness in 1821, she became a regular at Drury Lane. She also performed regularly at the English Opera House, where in 1823 she was cast in the role of Safie. A student of the Irish musician, actor and singer Thomas (Tom) Cooke (who was born in Dublin in 1781 and who in 1823 had recently performed prominently at Drury Lane in Carl Maria von Weber's Die Freischütz), she enjoyed mixed critical success, as is evident from comments that appeared in 1825. There her manner of singing is described as "infantine and unsustained," characterized by a continual "effort to do that which, in fact, from natural qualifications, she could do without any effort at all." Nevertheless, the same critic says this about her stage presence: "Miss Povey's figure is extremely petite; her countenance is very pleasing, though not strictly beautiful; her manners are unassuming; her voice, in speaking, very enchanting, though too childish to be effective on the stage" (Oxberry, 2:234-38). These characteristics, together with her admitted skill at ballad-singing, suggest why she may have been a good choice to play Safie as Peake's drama represented her.

Madame Ninon.   According to the 1823 playbill, Madame Ninon, whose rather formal name seems an odd fit with her status as the wife of Fritz, the servant, was first played by a Mrs. T. Weippert, about whom I have been unable to discover more than a few tantalizing details. In its notice of the play in August 1823, the Mirror of the Stage; or, New Dramatic Censor found Mrs. Weippert (whose initial it gives as "I.") of particular interest: "as a singer, this lady's merits are not above mediocrity; but whenever she is put into characters suited to her talents, such as pert servants, or romping hoyden's [sic], she displays considerable vivacity and spirit." This suggests that she was in fact a relatively well known minor actress familiar to London audiences for her performances in "character roles." Oxberry mentions a Mrs. J. Wieppert whose maiden name was Stevenson and who was active as early as 1817. Despite the apparent confusion about her Christian name (and its initial), this is probably the same actress. She was almost certainly one of the provincial actresses and actors hired by Samuel Arnold for performances at the English Opera House (Oxberry, 1:147). I especially regret the lack of more extensive information about this intriguing actress, since Madame Ninon is a lively, feisty, argumentative character whose stage ancestry seems likely to extend all the way back to Noah's shrewish wife in the medieval drama.

Other Characters, Actors, and Actresses.   These were all minor, stock actors and actresses of the sort that "fill out a company." Those whose names are given on the playbill (Shield, Salter, Phillips) were undoubtedly what are today called "bit players," as is evident from the minor nature of their roles and the actors' virtual absence from most records of the period. Salter, for instance, like Mrs Weippert (see Madame Ninon, above) was another of the provincial actors signed by Arnold at the English Opera House to frustrate the monopolistic practices of the so-called legitimate theatres when it came to "off-season" employment (Oxberry, 1:147-48). The Mirror of the Stage, in 1824, called Salter's a "general and useful talent" adept at a variety of roles and character types "without being actually great in any thing" (Mirror of the Stage, n.s. 4:20).

 

The First Reviews

London Morning Post: Tuesday, July 29 & Wednesday, July 30

Tuesday, July 29, 1823
THEATRE
English Opera

A new three act piece, described as "a romance of a peculiar interest," was last night produced at this theatre, entitled, Presumption, or the Fate of Frankenstein.

The fable represents Frankenstein, a man of great science, to have succeeded in uniting the remains of dead persons, so as to form one being, which he endows with life. He has, however, little reason to exult in the triumph of his art; for the creature thus formed, hideous in aspect, and possessed of prodigious strength, spreads terror, and carries ruin wherever he goes. Though wearing the human form, he is incapable of associating with mankind, to whom he eventually becomes hostile, and having killed the mistress and brother of Frankenstein, he finally vanquishes his mortal creator, and perishes himself beneath a falling avalanche.

Such is the outline of the business of a drama more extraordinary in its plan, than remarkable for strength in its execution. There is something in the piecemeal resurrection effected by Frankenstein, which, instead of creating that awful interest intended to arise from it, gives birth to a feeling of horror. We have not that taste for the monstrous which can enable us to enjoy it in the midst of the most startling absurdities. To Lord BYRON, the late Mr. SHELLEY, and philosophers of that stamp, it might appear a very fine thing to attack the Christian faith from a masked battery, and burlesque the resurrection of the dead, by representing the fragments of departed mortals as starting into existence at the command of a man; but we would prefer the comparatively noble assaults of VOLNEY, VOLTAIRE , and PAINE. In the first scene in which ------- (so the creature of Frankenstein is indicated in the bills) makes his appearance, the effect is terrific. There are other parts in which a very powerful impression is produced on the spectators, but to have made the most of the idea a greater interest ought early in the drama to have been excited for Frankenstein and the destined victims of the non-descript, and he himself would have been an object of greater attention if speech had been vouchsafed. The efforts to relieve the serious action of the Piece by mirth and music were generally successful, and the labours of Mr. WATSON the composer we often loudly applauded.

The acting was very grand. WALLACK as Frankenstein, displayed great feeling and animation; T.P. COOKE as ------ (or the made up man), was tremendously appalling. The other performers did as much as could be expected in the parts allotted to them, and the piece though it met with some opposition at the close had a large majority in its favour, and was announced for repetition.

The entertainment of the "Rival Soldiers" followed, in which Mr. W. CHAPMAN played Nipperkin with much genuine humour. He is an actor of sterling merit and will improve as he goes on.

 

Wednesday, July 30,1823
ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE.

At this Theatre last night, Presumption, or the Fate of Frankenstein, was again performed. Whatever may be thought of Frankenstein as a novel, or of the principles of those who could indite such a novel, there can be but one opinion of it as a drama. The representation of this piece upon the stage is of astonishing, of enchaining, interest. In the novel the rigid moralist may feel himself constantly offended, by the modes of reasoning, principles of action, &c. --But in the Drama this is all carefully kept in the back ground. Nothing but what can please, astonish, and delight, is there suffered to appear; Frankenstein despairingly bewails his attempt as impious, and suffers for it; partial justice is rendered; and many more incidents in the novel might have been pourtrayed, of harrowing interest! though without infringing good taste. As it stands, however, as a drama, it is most effective; and T.P. COOKE well pourtrays what indeed it is a proof of his extraordinary genius so well to pourtray--an unhappy being without the pale of nature--a monster--a nondescript--a horror to himself and others;--yet the leaning, the bias, the nature, if one may so say, of the creature is good; he is in the beginning of his creation gentle, and disposed to be affectionate and kind, but his appearance terrifies even those to whom he has rendered the most essential service; the alarm he excites creates hostility; his miserable assailed by man; and revenge and the malignity are thus excited in his breast. Instead of being longer kind or gentle he becomes ferocious, sets fire to the cottage where his services had been so ungratefully requited (and this scene is admirably managed), and perceiving that Frankenstein, the author of his existence, shuns and abhors him as much as others, he becomes enraged against him, and seeks his destruction and that of all dear to him, in which he too fatally succeeds. Too much cannot be said in praise of T.P. COOKE, his development of first impressions, and naturally perceptions, is given with a fidelity to nature truly admirable. Take for instance the pourtraiture of his first sensations on hearing music, than which nothing can be finer. The acting of WALLACK, the unhappy Frankenstein, is painfully interesting; he looks, he seems to feel the very character he assumes, so abstracted, so wretched, so care-worn. Upon the whole, though from diversity of taste this Piece may meet with some opposition, it cannot fail to stand its ground in ultimate conjunction with other pieces. The applause predominated in a more marked degree last night. The pleasant Afterpiece of Where shall I Dine? followed, and kept the house in a continued laughter.

 

 

• Presumption; or, The Fate of Frankenstein (later retitled Frankenstein; or, The Dangers of Presumption). 1823.
• The Man and the Monster! or, The Fate of Frankenstein (later retitled Frankenstein; or, The Monster ). 1826.
• Frankenstein; or, The Model Man (1849).
• The Man and the Monster (revivals staged in Birmingham, Edinburgh, and perhaps elsewhere). 1850s.
• Frankenstein; or, The Vampire's Victim 1887.

   Other versions:

• Another Piece of Presumption (a burlesque, at the Adelphi Theatre). 1823.
• Humgumption; or, Dr. Frankenstein and the Hobgoblin of Hoxton (a burlesque). 1823.
• Frank-in-Steam; or, The Modern Promise to Pay (a burlesque). 1824.
• The Monster and the Magician; or, The Fate of Frankenstein. Adaptation by Henry Milner, described as a "Peculiar Romantic Melo-Dramatic Pantomimic Spectacle." 1826.