There was nowhere near a capacity audience at the Plymouth last night to hear Emlyn Williams, the Welsh actor, give the premiere of a program of readings from Dickens which he has been preparing for over a year. This was a great pity, both because an unfilled house dampens the spirits of performer and audience alike, and because the quality of Mr. Williams' rendition deserved a far more enthusiastic response.

Dickens is essentially a confidential writer. Even when he is dealing with the broad masses of unrest in France in "A Tale of Two Cities," he is drawn inexorably to the minute details of the situation, which he eagerly and secretively displays to his reader. He should ideally be read-or rendered--in a heavy Victorian atmosphere itself rich in distracting detail. Mr. Williams attempted to recreate this mood by dressing himself as Dickens, beard and all, by reading from frayed volumes on a velvet-topped desk copied from that which the author used in his own "Readings" of his works and by clever use of heavy and shadowy lighting.

Mr. Williams of course did not actually read from the books. He flowed effortlessly over the grotesque, oddly-shaped lumps that are Dickensian prose, and he languished nostalgically with the magical Dickensian names, which are so much moreconnotative than denotative: "Mr. Podsnap," "Mr. Bob Sawyer," "Mr. Chops," "Monseigneur." He literally threw himself into the performance, with movements and gestures which seemed just what the author intended, and his voices were superb, whether he was the narrator, the young fop, the chauvinistic Englishman, the crotchety landlady, the Marquis, or the signal-man.

The selection was admirable, being culled from the sixteen adaptations of his work which Dickens used himself on his tours. It included humor and tragedy, complete stories and incidents, utter-affectation and sincere emotion. No less varied was the reader's enunciation. He varied his tone, not in an offensively obvious manner, but in a subtle way which dispersed all tedium from the more than two hours of essentially similar narrative.

Mr. Williams expresses the hope that the small glimpse of Dickens which he is offering will lead his listeners to read and reread the books themselves. Not everyone will like his performance, of course. It moves leisurely, but for those who have time to tarry, it is a pleasant trip indeed.