ADAPTATIONS Stage, Screen and Other Versions of His Natural Life
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ADAPTATIONS Stage, Screen and Other Versions of His Natural Life, – ELIZABETH WEBBY Clarke’s His Natural Life has been one of the most Mfrequently adapted Australian novels, rivalled by only Rolf Boldrewood’s Robbery Under Arms () and Steele Rudd’s On Our Selection () in the number of versions offered to the public. Each change in the dominant style of popular entertainment – from stage melodrama in the s to silent film in the s and television in the s – has produced at least one adaptation of Clarke’s novel. While, perhaps surprisingly, no version has yet been made for sound film, in Greenhouse Publications issued a comic-book For the Term of His Natural Life, adapted and illustrated by Peter Foster. His Natural Life is so far the only Aust- ralian novel to have been presented in this form. With each new adaptation over the past century, there have been alterations in the representation of the novel’s characters, themes and plot. Some of these reflect changes in society, especially changes in attitudes to the convict system, to women, to sexuality and the body. Some reflect the different opportunities offered by different modes of production, and some alterations are quite the opposite of what one might have expected, with the earlier versions often being franker and closer to Clarke’s novel than the later. Together, however, they form a significant part of the reception history of His Natural Life, within the broader cultural history of Australia. The illustrations in the serial His Natural Life first appeared before the public in monthly serialised episodes in the Australian Journal (March – June ), for much of its run as the leading item and with most issues featuring a wood-cut illustration of scenes and characters from the novel. Although this much longer serial version of the novel has been reprinted several times, the original illustrations have been reproduced only once.1 While as crude as most cheap magazine illustrations of this period, they are interesting both for what is depicted and what is not. Apart from the illustration for December , which shows a foppish Mr Meekin lecturing a convict – probably Rufus Dawes – who is breaking stones, there is no attempt to depict convicts at work, let alone being punished. The illustrations for the instalments of June and July , dealing with the plotting of the mutiny and the convict breakout on board the Malabar, show some appropriately brutish convicts, one of whom is presumably Gabbett. But, apart from the latter, there is no attempt to stereotype the characters as either good or evil through the depiction of their physical features. Maurice Frere, for example, is shown in the illustration for August as a good-looking young man. One has to wait for the TV mini-series to again find a handsome Maurice. Stage melodrama relied heavily on visual cues – through physiognomy, make-up and costume – to alert audiences to a character’s nature, and early films and comic strips followed suit. The thin lips and shifty eyes of the Maurice of the film are repeated in the depiction of him in the comic-book version of the novel. The Gabbett of the film has very prominent teeth, to indicate his cannibal nature, while in the comic-book he is presented as more ape than man. All adaptations of His Natural Life have been based on the shorter, , book version, except for the television series. All, however, apart from the comic-book, contrive a happy ending more in keeping with the intention of the – serial if not with its substance. In neither version did Clarke contemplate anything more than a spiritual union of Dawes and Sylvia (originally Dora). He anticipated a stage version with some dismay, knowing that stage 1 In the Angus & Robertson edition. melodrama usually required a happy ending in which the hero and heroine became one in flesh as well as spirit. Many of the difficulties with any adaptation arise from the need to make things concrete and specific that in the original are abstract and general. Embodying characters raises particular difficulties for the representation of the type of idealised love Clarke imagines as existing between Dawes and Sylvia. Given the disparity in their ages, it is possible, in the novel, to see this love in terms of a parent–child or, at least, elder brother–young sister relationship. It is much less easy to do this in a visual representation, even if Sylvia is not blatantly sexualised. Ironically, the comic-book version, the only one to retain the ending where Dawes and Sylvia drown in each other’s arms, precedes this by a panel depicting Sylvia in a very revealing, and very un-nineteenth-century, body-clinging negligée. In the film Sylvia’s nightgown is much more substantial and she even has the good sense to put on her dressing gown when first woken by buckets of water coming into her cabin. But, in this version, she is going to be allowed to survive. The Australian Journal’s illustration of this scene (October ) shows Dora even more sensibly – and perhaps more accurately for the period – still in her day dress. Clarke, of course, did not have to worry about what Sylvia was wearing when the ship went down – and certainly does not bother to tell us. Stage adaptations Ian McLaren records thirty-one stage adaptations of the novel, performed mainly in Australia, but also in England and the USA, between and .2 A number of these, however, used variants of the same basic scripts; a chronological listing of the first performances of fourteen different adaptations, including pro- ductions in New Zealand, appears on p. McLaren also lists ‘ ‒ ’, which had been published by Richard Bentley and Son: in August in an edition of copies, at one shilling a copy. Entered for copyright at British Museum on November . This is not an acting edition, but a precis of the original 2 McLaren –. p 594: insert landscape page with chart Robertson first edition, supposed to be adapted by Hamilton Mackinnon and Marian Clarke, and undertaken solely for the purpose of protecting copyright. (p. ) As Richard Fotheringham has noted, the copyright law in force when Clarke died in only covered his work for five years.3 This may explain the reason for the precis, and for the rash of actual adaptations in , even though there is some doubt as to whether the current copyright laws could ever have prevented stage versions of a work. By the time the precis was published, three different adaptations had already appeared in Australia. George Leitch’s His Natural Life had premiered at the Theatre Royal, Brisbane on April , then played in Adelaide and Melbourne, and opened at the Theatre Royal, Sydney, on August. Another version had been given to Sydney audiences by Alfred Dampier on June . Inigo Tyrrell Weekes premiered the third version at the Mechanics’ Institute, Williamstown, on June , subsequently playing it in the USA, –. His attempt to prevent Leitch’s version opening in Melbourne on June, on the grounds that he owned the copyright for performances in Victoria, led to a celebrated court case.4 A number of full and partial scripts for both the Leitch and the Dampier adaptations have survived, allowing an unusual insight into their respective beliefs about audience taste and providing a salutary caution against making too many inferences on the basis of scanty evidence. If these scripts were not extant, one might have been tempted to take the precis published by Bentley as the model for how the novel was presented to an theatre audience. The precis is divided into a Prologue and four Acts, with the prologue opening in England in and the remainder set in Van Diemen’s Land from –. The action follows that of the novel fairly closely, though leaving out scenes that would seemingly have been difficult to stage. So the prologue closes with Richard Devine’s capture and taking on the identity of Rufus Dawes. Act I opens with Sylvia, Mrs Vickers and Maurice Frere marooned at Hell’s 3 ‘Some Echoes of Marcus Clarke’, Notes and Furphies, (April ), p. 4 See Roslyn Atkinson and Richard Fotheringham, ‘Dramatic Copyright in Australia to ’, Australasian Drama Studies, (October ), –. Gates where they are joined by Rufus Dawes – all the Malabar and earlier Macquarie Harbour episodes are omitted. Act II opens in Hobart five years later; Acts III and IV take place at Port Arthur, a further five years on. Again, most of the exterior scenes of the novel are cut: episodes involving Sylvia, North, Dawes and Frere are reproduced fairly faithfully but the blow-hole episode, Rex’s impersonation of Richard Devine and the final storm scene are omitted. So are any traces of what would seem to our eyes the most controversial and taboo material: the cannibalism, North’s alcoholism and loss of faith, and Kirkland’s rape by Gabbett. A happy ending is achieved by what, again by modern standards, are the impossible coincidences of melodrama. North brings Sylvia to Dawes’s prison cell, after having told her Dawes’s story. This, one assumes, has been sufficient for her to recover her memory: ‘Amid tears Sylvia confesses her love for Dawes, and her hatred for her husband now she knows all.’5 Meanwhile, Sarah Purfoy has smuggled in a gun for Rex, concealed in a Bible, which he uses to kill Frere, before confessing to the murder of Lord Bellasis. After North has duly confessed to the robbery: ‘Major Vickers is now satisfied, and passes Sylvia to Dawes – united to be parted only by death; and North falls on his knees exclaiming, “I’ve saved him – I’ve saved him!” (Curtain)’ (p.