Smith is an adaptation of Leon Garfield's book of the same name. A small boy steals a document but can't read. He knows it is important and needs to read it before the evil Mr Billing and two murdering 'men in brown' catch him.
I have been a little self-indulgent with this adaptation as I devoured Garfield's stories, as a child, being drawn to the grimy pictures he created of eighteenth century London and the 'larger-than-life' characters that jumped from the page; all of them flawed. To have the opportunity to turn at least one of the stories into a piece of theatre is a privilege.
The play is written as a piece of physical theatre encouraging the cast to become streets, forests, a carriage and statues. For this reason no set is required although a projected backdrop on the cyc helps the narrative and to set the scene.
Extract: Act 1, Scene 1 - Opening
London Town
(A handful of townsfolk, some more unfortunate than others, are gathered in the square going about their daily business. They gradually form a chorus as Smith enters. Smith winds his way through the crowd, who look directly at the audience and say -)
Chorus: Pick-pocket! Pick-pocket! Jug him! Jug-jug-jug-him!
(Smith walks CS and looks out FS.)
Smith: My name is Smith and I’m twelve years old, which some say is a
marvel. I have escaped (counts on fingers) smallpox; the
consumption; brain-fever; gaol-fever and even the hangman’s rope.
It’s because I’m too quick for ‘em – a rat is like to a snail beside me.
Chorus: Pick-pocket! Pick-pocket! Jug-him! Jug-jug-jug him!
Chorus 1: Smith has a turn of speed that is remarkable.
Chorus 2: And a neatness in nipping down an alley…
Chorus 3: Or vanishing in a court….
Chorus 4: That has to be seen to be believed.
Chorus 5: Smith is a sooty spirit of this violent, ramshackle town.
Chorus 6: He inhabits the tumble down mazes around fat St Paul’s.
Chorus 7: The most his thousand victims know of him is the powerful whiff of
his passing and a cold draft in their dexterously emptied pockets.
Chorus: Pick-pocket! Pick-pocket! Jug him! Jug–jug-jug him!
Smith: Me favourite spot is Ludgate ‘ill and ‘ere in one, or other of, the
ancient doorways I lean, grin and watch the cursing, the scraping, the
raging the shouting go ‘opelessly on until something prosperous
comes my way.
(A rotund, wealthy gentleman enters the square.)
Chorus: Pick- pocket! Pick-pocket!
(Smith disappears into the crowd and shadows the obviously lost gentleman around the square.)
Chorus: Pick-pocket! Pick-pocket!
(Gentleman continues to wander around the square looking for a familiar sign)
Chorus: Pick-pocket! Pick-pocket! Jug-him! Jug-jug-jug him!
(A sign is held up. It reads ‘CURTIS ALLEY leading to CURTIS COURT’. Gentlemen looks relieved and then stops and shivers)
Gent: Someone’s walked over me grave.
(Smith steps out of a doorway)
Smith: Beg pardon sir? Beg pardon…
Gent: (Impatiently) Which way are you going?
(After ‘dancing’ with the old gent, Smith brushes against him)
Chorus 8: It is done! In an instant Smith has emptied the old man’s pocket of ----
Chorus 9: Footsteps in the alley!
(Smith darts back into his doorway as two gentlemen in brown enter)
Gent: Good day to ye gentleman.
Man 1: And good day to you.
Smith: They move very neat and with no noise. They are proficient in their
trade. The taller comes at the old man from the front; the other takes
on his back – and slides a knife into it! His eyes flicker with the pain
at the knife’s quick prick. Then he looks surprised – amazed even –
as he feels the cold blade slip into his warm heart.
Gent: Oh! Oh! Oh my! (Dies)
(The two men begin searching the body)
Man 2: (Muttering) God rot the old fool! He aint got it!
(A third man enters but is partially hidden in the shadows)
Man 3: Well?
Man 1: Nothing – nothing yet yer ‘onour!
Man 3: Liars! Fools! Look again!
Man 1: Told you so – nothing!
Man 3: Again! Again! It must be there!
Man 2: Well it aint yer ‘onour and if we stays much longer we’ll be on our
way to join ‘im…on the end of a rope!
Man 1: Come on, let’s be off.
Man 3: Again! Search once more.
Man 2: With respect sir, do it yerself.
Man 3: What? No!
Man 2: Then we’re off! Quick! Quick! There’s someone coming!
Chorus: Voices and clustering footsteps can be heard coming from the far side
of the alley. The pale faced clerks and the scriveners and the thin-
necked attorneys have caught the scent of blood. They have come out
of their rooms and chambers to congregate solemnly and stare.
(Smith mingles with the crowd and then swiftly exits – as he does so a shadowy figure steps out of his hiding place and watches him leave)