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In 2004 Peter Pan celebrated its centenary. Catherine Dell takes a closer look at J.M. Barrie's classic fantasy. 

 

In December 1904, London's theatre-goers were eagerly awaiting Mr Barrie's new play, due to open on the 22nd. Although the production was shrouded in secrecy - the Duke of York's Theatre had even hired extra guards to stop journalists nosing their way in - the public anticipated a box-office hit, in keeping with previous Barrie triumphs such as Quality Street and The Admirable Crichton.

Inside the Duke of York's Theatre, however, the mood was less confident. The innumerable scene changes and special effects were a logistical nightmare. There was a problem, too, with the flying routines - overshadowed by a recent 'flying' accident in a Chicago playhouse, which had caused a devastating fire and 600 deaths. Barrie amended the script again and again, while rehearsals went on late into the night - sometimes right through. Inevitably, the opening was postponed.

Finally, on Tuesday 27 December at 8.30pm, the curtain rose on Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Would Not Grow Up. The audience, almost all adults, couldn't believe their eyes - a Newfoundland dog getting a nursery ready for bedtime! But their bewilderment quickly turned to delight as, spellbound, they followed Peter - "second on the right and straight on till morning" - to a make-believe island inhabited by Lost Boys, fairies, pirates, redskins and a ticking crocodile.

They were utterly enchanted and when Peter, desperate to revive the dying Tinkerbell, pleaded, "Do you believe in fairies? ... If you believe, clap your hands," their response was so overwhelming that Nina Boucicault, the actress playing Peter, burst into tears. (Barrie, no doubt, sighed with relief. Just before the performance he had taken the precautionary measure of instructing the orchestra to put down their instruments and clap if the audience did not.)

The rapturous applause at the end provoked endless curtain-calls. Peter Pan had become the season's must-see.

In general, the critics shared the public's enthusiasm. One, Max Beerbohm writing in The Saturday Review, remarked, "Undoubtedly, Peter Pan is the best thing [Barrie] has done - the thing most directly from within himself." How true. Barrie's life was, indeed, at the heart of Peter's.

Tragic start

James Matthew Barrie, born in the small Scottish weaving town of Kerriemuir in 1890, was just six when tragedy convulsed the family. His elder brother David, their mother's favourite, had a skating accident and died soon afterwards. Mrs Barrie, although drawing some comfort from the notion that David would never grow up, remained grief-stricken. Young James's desperate efforts to take his brother's place stifled his own development and by the time he reached 14 - the age at which David had died - he was only five feet tall and had stopped growing.

But this did not affect James's ambition to be a writer. Always a lover of adventure stories, he started off as a journalist - first in Nottingham, then London. He soon graduated to novels and plays and by the mid-1890s enjoyed enormous popularity alongside authors such as Hardy, Kipling and H.G. Wells.

Fame brought many new friends and acquaintances but Barrie was not always at ease in adult company. Children, however, were different. His rapport with youngsters was legendary - they adored his sense of fun, contagious energy, brilliant story-telling and an imagination that equalled theirs. He was every child's dream uncle.

One of his earliest young friends was Margaret, daughter of the poet and editor W.E. Henley. Margaret used to call Barrie "my friendly", but because of her lisp, it sounded like "fwendy". Barrie would later turn this into Wendy and give the English language a new girl's name.

Garden encounter

By far the most important children in Barrie's life were the five Llewelyn Davies boys. Barrie first encountered them in 1897 in Kensington Gardens. He was exercising his St Bernard dog; they were taking a walk with their nurse. At that stage, there were three of them: George, Jack and baby Peter. Michael would be born in 1900, Nico in 1903.

Barrie soon got to know them and their parents, Arthur and Sylvia - to be recreated as Mr and Mrs Darling - and before long was effectively part of the family. The boys revelled in his amazing store of tricks, games and stories. Especially the Kensington Gardens story in which a flying boy called Peter Pan lived on an island in the Serpentine and led dead infants to a children's paradise. Holidays spent together were crammed with activities and adventures, the latter often involving islands and pirates.

The boys were hugely important to the evolution of Peter Pan, as Barrie movingly acknowledged in the play's dedication "To the Five". Here he cites many incidents, like the evening walk when Michael, still a toddler, was captivated by a twinkling lantern, thus creating 'Tink'. He summarises his debt to them: "I suppose I always knew that I made Peter by rubbing the five of you violently together, as savages with two sticks produce a flame. That is all he is, the spark I got from you."

The sensational success of its opening season ensured that Peter Pan was staged again the following winter, and it soon became an annual event with a London run plus provincial tour. Barrie was involved in each production and often made changes to the text.


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