Playbill for the 1826 Drury Lane Aladdin |
From the
appearance of the first English translation of the Arabian Nights’
Entertainments at the beginning of the eighteenth century, the dazzling
tales of Scheherazade have been mined for their dramatic potential. Indeed,
it would be hard to imagine a playwright not intrigued by the obvious
theatrical scope offered by fables that feature enchanted objects, titanic
rivalries, and romantic passions assisted by the supernatural.
In his catalogue
of plays produced or printed in England between 1660 and 1900, Allardyce Nicoll
lists more than a hundred based on the story of Aladdin, nearly sixty on the
story of Sinbad, and about three dozen on the story of Ali Baba. Of course we
know these characters today primarily in their pantomime incarnations, but
during the late eighteenth century and the first half of the nineteenth
century, their adventures were also the subject of more or less straight
melodrama and opera, spectacles combining breathtaking stage effects, a few
favourite singers, and musical numbers that could be transferred easily to
concert hall and home.
Most of
these were derived from the first English version of the tales, the anonymous
“Grub Street” edition that appeared between 1706 and 1721. This was a
translation of a twelve-volume work by the French diplomat and classicist
Antoine Galland, which was itself based on a fourteenth-century Syrian
manuscript. Some of the most famous stories, including Aladdin, are thought to
have been interpolated into the collection by Galland himself but have
nevertheless come to be considered part of the Arabian Nights canon.
At their
heart, these are stories about the power of stories, and certainly we can agree
with G.K. Chesterton, who said that few other books can match their splendid
tribute to the omnipotence of art. You are all familiar with the framing device
used in the tales: in revenge for the infidelity of his first wife, a sultan
has vowed to kill his future wives the day after he marries them. His latest
wife, Scheherazade, avoids this fate by ensnaring the sultan in a web of
story-telling that keeps him in suspense for a thousand and one nights. By that
time, the sultan has become so enthralled with her that he spares her life.
Scheherazade’s cunning stories save her. Drawn from Indian, Persian, and Arabic
oral traditions, they include fables, fairy tales, proverbs, riddles, songs,
love poems, and historical anecdotes. They are populated by genies,
fairies, demons, and magicians and abound in passion, pathos, violence, bawdy
humour, and fantasy.
To discover
the appeal of these oriental tales to Georgian audiences, let's take a closer look at Aladdin – the “fairy opera” written by
George Soane with music by Henry Rowley Bishop that was first produced in April
1826 at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, London. The production was not successful; in fact, after a year in
preparation and months of intense puffery, it failed miserably. As far as I can
tell, it had only ten performances. I have chosen to focus on it because
of the extraordinary cast of characters involved in its production – many of
them among the most prominent figures of the Georgian theatre – and because it
represents an important milestone in the popular reception of the Arabian
Nights stories.
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, c. 1826 |
In its review of this production, The Times stated that such was the popularity of the Arabian Nights tales in the Georgian era that none in the audience could possibly have been unfamiliar with them: “they are read with avidity in early life,” the reviewer noted, “and the memory, even in age, delights to dwell on the marvellous powers of Aladdin’s ring and lamp, on the narrow escapes of the enterprising Sinbad, on the wonders of the city of enchanters, and the various strange adventures with magicians and genies to which the heroes and heroines are so frequently exposed.” The same week that Aladdin opened at Drury Lane, The Times reviewed yet another new print edition of the tales.
The first
English play based on the Aladdin story was written by John O’Keefe in 1788 for
Covent Garden. This was followed by numerous other versions in London and
the provinces over the next few decades, all of which were intended to
capitalise on the Georgian fashion for stories set in enchanting and enchanted
places.
In the
autumn of 1825, Covent Garden produced a pantomime Aladdin, which was
followed in the spring of 1826 by the fairy opera Oberon by the
German composer Carl Maria von Weber, then at the height of his popularity in
England. Oberon boasted a libretto by James Robinson Planché set in
Baghdad that combined the brave deeds of a Christian knight, the cruelty of a
Muslim caliph, the trial of true love, and a flock of Shakespearian fairies,
including Oberon and Puck. With Weber conducting, the opera was an instant
success.
Over in
Catherine Street, things were not going as well. Robert Elliston, the
proprietor of Drury Lane, had suffered a stroke the previous autumn and was
drinking heavily as his theatre approached bankruptcy. He had already produced
his own ersatz Oberon two weeks before the Covent Garden production
opened, but to no avail. He needed desperately to have a hit, something that
could serve as a rival attraction. The year before, he had successfully
produced Weber’s early opera Abu Hassan, based on the Arabian Nights story
“The Sleeper Awakened,” and so he decided to go to the Scheherazade well once
again.
Henry Bishop. composer of the 1826 Drury Lane Aladdin |
This time
the subject would be Aladdin. George Soane was asked to prepare a libretto and
Henry Bishop was assigned to furnish the music. Bishop had been serving as
composer and music director of Covent Garden for fifteen years when a
disagreement over his salary prompted him to move to Drury Lane for three years
beginning in 1825. Today he is perhaps most famous for the song “Home, Sweet
Home,” but over the course of his long career he composed or arranged some 120
dramatic works, including 80 operas. His modern reputation is not high,
probably because his role as music director required him to produce a great
deal of forgettable hackwork. He was, however, very highly regarded in his day
and was knighted in 1842.
Soane was
the youngest son of the famous architect Sir John Soane and although he is all
but forgotten today, he was among the Georgian theatre’s most prolific playwrights.
In addition to writing libretti for Bishop, Soane wrote for other distinguished
opera composers of the period, including Michael Balfe. Soane is a very
interesting character. He was by all accounts brilliant and often charming, a
graduate of Cambridge and fluent in several languages. Yet he married an
unsuitable woman, in his parents’ estimation; he may have had a child with his
sister-in-law; and he was often imprisoned for debt. In short, he continually
dashed his family’s high hopes for him. Things came to a head when George
published two defamatory articles criticising his father’s work and
disproportionate influence on English architecture. These vicious diatribes
have been blamed for hastening the death of his ailing mother; whatever the case,
Sir John instantly disinherited him and eventually left his estate to the
children of his other son and – as I’m sure you know – his magnificent home in Lincoln’s Inn Fields to the nation, where it can be visited to this day.
For Aladdin,
which is in three acts, Soane closely followed the traditional storyline. An
African sorcerer named Mourad arrives in Isfahan, Persia, in search of a magic
lamp hidden in a cave in the desert. He encounters Aladdin and promises him
great riches if he will descend into the cave and bring out the lamp. Mourad
gives Aladdin a gold ring and Aladdin descends into the cave. In the middle of
the cave, which sparkles with jewels, sits a giant figure clutching a rusty
lamp. Aladdin takes it but as he tries to climb out of the cave he falls and
the opening above closes over him. Angry at Mourad, who has left him to die,
Aladdin rubs the lamp in an attempt to clean it and the three genies of the
lamp appear, ready to do his bidding. They take him back to Isfahan and he
falls in love at first sight with the princess Nourmahal, the sister of the
shah. Aladdin asks the shah for permission to marry Nourmahal, which is granted
after Aladdin conjures forty gold urns borne by forty black slaves and forty
white slaves.
In his joy, Aladdin has the genies of the lamp create a magical
palace suitable for his bride. Mourad, meanwhile, learns that Aladdin did not
die in the cave. He poses as a tradesman offering new lamps for old and tricks
Nourmahal into giving him Aladdin’s enchanted lamp. Mourad summons the genies
and makes them transport the new palace, with Nourmahal and himself inside, to
Africa. Frantic at the loss of his sister, the shah sentences Aladdin to death
but gives him seven days in which to find her. The seventh day arrives and Aladdin
prepares to take poison to avoid the worse fate of impalement. He realises that
he is still wearing the gold ring given him by Mourad, and in his attempt to
remove it summons the genie of the ring, who at his request takes him to
Nourmahal. The scene shifts to the palace in Africa, where Mourad tells
Nourmahal that she must marry him or die. Aladdin arrives, dressed as a
minstrel, carrying the poison. He tells Nourmahal to pretend to accept Mourad’s
overtures and then to slip the poison into his goblet. Mourad drinks from the
goblet and Aladdin reveals himself. As he dies, Mourad has one last trick up
his sleeve: he tells Aladdin that if he lights the enchanted lamp, he will gain
the wisdom of Solomon. Nourmahal seizes the lamp, lights it, and the lamp
disintegrates, freeing the genies. The final scene is a tableau of all the
characters in the cave seen at the beginning of the opera.
Although
Soane’s libretto had been trimmed by James Winston, who was at this time the
theatre’s acting manager, the opera was still unbearably long. Weber was
present at the premiere and later described the experience in a letter to his
wife. The performance, he wrote, lasted four-and-a-half hours – long enough to
kill the audience as well as the work. Apparently, the first act alone took two
hours; one London paper noted that when the drop fell, “the half price gentry
were scrambling over the gallery benches.” Weber went on to say that the
libretto was weak; the music rarely more than pretty; and some of the singing truly
atrocious. The audience had cheered Weber as he entered the box that had been
placed at his disposal, and when a hunting chorus of Bishop’s was sung they
actually hissed and began whistling the hunting chorus from another of Weber’s operas, Der
Freischütz.
Catherine ("Kitty") Stephens, star of the 1826 Drury Lane Aladdin |
The part of
Aladdin was sung by the soprano Catherine, or “Kitty,” Stephens, one of the
most popular English opera and concert singers of her generation. Stephens had
joined Drury Lane in 1824 after falling out with the managers of Covent Garden,
where she had made her debut eleven years earlier. Oxberry’s Dramatic
Biography described Stephens as about medium height, with a pretty figure,
dark hair and eyes, and a countenance that reflected the simplicity and
sweetness of her nature. The prevailing narrative about Kitty Stephens, as
evidenced in Oxberry’s and other popular works of Georgian biography, stressed
her respectability and exemplary conduct. Ballads, especially pathetic ballads,
were her specialty. Her singing made Kitty Stephens rich. In 1838, three years
after she retired from the stage, she married the 80-year-old Earl of Essex and
became even richer. In 1826, though, she was still at the height of her powers,
captivating those who came to see her in Aladdin. In a review that was
otherwise critical of the production, The Times praised her acting
abilities, which had charmed the audience nearly as much as her expressive
style of singing.
Songs such
as “In My Bower a Lady Weeps,” “Sister, I Have Loved Thee Well,” and “Beautiful
are the Fields” were published as sheet music within weeks of the production,
but many critics noted that the music was not up to Bishop’s usual standard. The
Musical Times thought that “in spite of all of Bishop’s earnestness, or
perhaps because of it, Aladdin shows little of the vigour and
brightness so conspicuous in many works which were merely dashed off as
required. It is, indeed, a curiously disappointing work.”
Despite its
shortcomings as music, the opera successfully evoked the popular Georgian
conception of the East. Aladdin was calculated to provide maximum
opportunity for scenic display and it was advertised to appear with entirely
new scenery, machinery, dresses, and decorations. The production featured 15
different settings including
the jewelled cave, raging storms, an elegant imperial palace and harem gardens,
a flying palace that lifts off from Persia and lands in the African desert,
bustling streetscapes, panoramic city views, and a mosque with a practicable
minaret. Most of this was devised by the great Clarkson Stanfield, who was
assisted by the Scottish artist David Roberts, a specialist in architectural
subjects. Roberts had a longstanding interest in the Near East and today he is
remembered primarily for a series of drawings and watercolours he made during a
trip to Egypt at the urging of his friend JMW Turner. Soon after he finished
work on Aladdin, Roberts left Drury Lane for Covent Garden, where his
expertise in painting Eastern subjects was put to good use in the London
premiere of Mozart’s The Abduction from the Seraglio.
Lighting
and machinery played a crucial role in Aladdin. Scenes go dark as storm
clouds gather, vivid flashes of lightning illuminate acts of sorcery and magic;
a bright flame guides the way to the mouth of the enchanted cave; clouds and
mist rise and then vanish to reveal splendid scenes; characters sink through
the stage floor as buildings rise from it; the genies of the lamp appear in
clouds dripping fire; a mechanical dove swoops in occasionally; and the magic
lamp glows and then shatters at the end of the opera.
The
management of all the moving parts of this production proved tricky on opening
night, with The Times calling attention to the fact that the actors
were often obliged to stand still while the audience was regaled with the loud
swearing of the carpenters.
Aladdin was one of three operas by Bishop written for Drury Lane that have Eastern
settings. The Fall of Algiers, which was produced the year before Aladdin, is
based on England’s 1816 battle with the pirates known as the Barbary Corsairs,
who operated out of Tunisia and preyed on shipping in the western Mediterranean. Englishmen
in India, produced the year after Aladdin, is a sentimental love
story involving an Indian girl and her English guardian.
The cover of Henry Bishop's score for the 1826 Drury Lane Aladdin |
These
works, and many others like them, drew audiences interested in the picture they
presented of life in the East. This was a picture generally derived from
partial and faulty knowledge that produced a vision of the Orient as
simultaneously mysterious, enticing, and threatening. In the eighteenth and
early nineteenth centuries, travel to the East was still unusual and difficult
and the theatre served to educate the
public—at least that segment of it that attended plays—in a linguistic and
pictorial vocabulary that organised and interpreted the regions east of Europe.
For the
Georgian period, the oriental tale had a two-fold attraction: the exotic appeal
of the setting, and the comfortable familiarity of its moralising themes. In
the preface to an 1807 edition of the Arabian Nights, the universal human
responses of the reader are appealed to as a way of overriding his or her
ignorance of an alien culture. In fact, the English treatment of the stories,
whether in books or on stage, was a constant oscillation between a
domestication of them and an attempt to view them in their own context.
The
audience of Bishop’s opera is never allowed to forget that the world of Aladdin is
an Eastern – specifically a Muslim – world. The Prophet Muhammad’s name is
invoked constantly and Allah’s protection is sought at every turn. Characters
swear by Muhammad’s beard and by his sacred tomb. One character struggles to
observe the Muslim prohibition against the drinking of alcohol. All the men
wear turbans, all the women are veiled; all the Christians are called “dogs”
and “pale infidels.” Aladdin’s marriage to Nourmahal is said to represent the
will of Muhammad; when the shah later discovers that his sister is missing, he
calls to Muhammad to forgive him for allowing his sister to marry a wizard. The
second act ends with an extraordinary tableau: as night falls, the Muslim call
to prayer is heard and all the characters kneel and pray.
But it’s a
magic world, too. The plot, after all, revolves around a magic ring, a magic
lamp, and magical beings who are enslaved to these objects. The villain,
Mourad, is an African sorcerer whose use of magic to achieve his own nefarious
ends marks him as corrupt, a recurring type in Georgian orientalist literature.
Despite its
ravishing scenery, which critics without exception called “truly beautiful” and
“very grand,” Aladdin did not attract. A mere six days after it
opened, Elliston announced that it would be played just once a week, ostensibly
because of the preparations required for a new production of Shakespeare's Henry the
Fourth, Part One, with William Charles Macready as Hotspur. Elliston
recovered enough of his health to create his last original role, Falstaff, in
this production, and played it to great acclaim for several more years at the
Surrey. On May 16 the imitation Oberon was put back on the Drury Lane
schedule, alternating with Macready’s Othello, and on May 30 Aladdin was
produced for the tenth and final time as a benefit for Kitty Stephens.
Although
the work was written and billed as an opera, its similarities to the pantomime
form are obvious: the free-spirited Aladdin, played by a female singer, is a
principle-boy figure who shares many traits with Harlequin; Nourmahal, a young
woman under the controlling thumb of her domineering brother, is related to
Columbine; Aladdin loses his magic lamp, analogous in this way to Harlequin’s
magic bat, and loses his power temporarily; the lovers are tested by adversity
and threatened by a lecherous older man who embodies all of the so-called
Oriental evils, including greed and trickery; a benevolent fairy in the shape
of the genie of the ring intervenes to bring the lovers together in a final
spectacular scene in the dwelling-place of the genies of the lamp. Six months
after Bishop’s opera opened and then closed in London, a version of the Aladdin
story squarely in the pantomime tradition opened at Christmas in Glasgow,
complete with the magician Abanazar and featuring interpolated songs
from Bishop’s opera.
A modern Aladdin, New Wimbledon Theatre, 2013 |
By the second half of the nineteenth century, theatrical adaptations of the Arabian Nights had veered once and for all into the land of pantomime and extravaganza, acquiring titles like Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp; or, Harlequin the Wicked Wizard and the Forty Thieves in 1884 and Aladdin; or, The Naughty Young Scamp Who Ran Off with the Lamp in 1897. These later versions continued to feed the public’s fascination with the East, sometimes combining several strands of interest, as in Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp or the Willow Pattern Plate and the Flying Crystal Palace” in 1884.
What did not change, and never will, I think, is the fact that the telling of tales and the desire to listen to the tales of others is a defining human characteristic, perhaps the defining human characteristic – one that is perfectly exemplified by The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments and its early stage adaptations.