The Tragedy of Ina

After Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s verse tragedy Remorse became a hit in 1813, many writers with literary ambitions turned to the stage, hoping to repeat the poet's success.

One of them, Barbarina Wilmot, had her play Ina premiered at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane in 1815. In the first scene, the Mercian princess Edelfleda’s maid Bertha even cries out, “Oh heaven! thou speak’st as tho’ remorse / Had stung thy bosom.”

Edelfleda counters that remorse more rightfully belongs to the man who has wronged her, Prince Egbert of Wessex, who was engaged to Edelfleda by his father in order to secure peace with Mercia. However, he is actually in love with Ina, Edelfleda’s beloved friend.

For his part, Egbert thinks of Edelfleda as a sister, while he is passionately in love with Ina, the orphan daughter of a warrior who died saving the king. That king, Egbert’s father Cenulph, decides to resolve the quandary by sending his son off to war defending the kingdom’s border, but Egbert instead flees with Ina.

Act II begins with Egbert brought back to his father, who reprimands him for placing himself above the good of his people. The problem is that Egbert and Ina have not only been secretly married already, but they even have a child together. Edelfleda leaves in a passion, declaring she will have vengeance. When the Mercian forces invade, Cenulph has little choice but to allow his son to lead an army against them.

In the following act, Edelfleda goes to Ina and tells her that Egbert has been imprisoned and placed in chains. This was briefly true, but is no longer, as becomes apparent when Egbert himself arrives. Thwarted, Edelfleda leaves, quietly vowing Ina’s death. Alwyn, the king’s faithful retainer, arrives and offers to take Ina and her child to safety as Egbert goes off to war. All of them are aware of the dangers present at court, not just from Edelfleda but also from the monk Baldred, who was once himself in love with Ina. 

Indeed, Baldred captures Ina and in the next act brings her to trial for treason. The trial scene allows Ina, who was originally played by Sarah Smith Bartley, to shine in her own defense, but it is in vain, and she is sentenced to death. In the final act, she appeals to the king and escapes her execution, but Egbert, returning to her home, finds her gone and expects the worst. Just before he kills himself, Ina returns, and the play has a happy ending, depriving the actor who plays Egbert of a death scene.

Who was that actor originally? It was none other than Edmund Kean, an otherwise brilliant performer who ended up giving such a weak portrayal of Egbert that the play was only presented at Drury Lane for a single night. Reviewers praised Julia Glover as Edelfleda, but she was unable to carry the show.

Is there a lesson here? Perhaps it's to always give your leading actor a juicy death scene, at least if your leading actor happens to be Edmund Kean.

Byron's Dramas

Today is the birthday of novelist Mary Shelley, but I want to write about the plays of one of her associates, George Gordon Byron, who remained a close friend and colleague of hers until his death in 1824.

While Byron is today known mainly as a poet, the latest issue of The Byron Journal has a couple of articles addressing his dramas Cain and Manfred. Both plays are verse dramas that Byron protested (perhaps too much, methinks) were not intended for the stage, but then they got performed over and over again anyway.

In "Byron in Space" Anthony Howe of Birmingham City University takes a look at cosmology in Cain as well as Byron's mock-epic poem Don Juan. While earlier poets like John Milton could invoke the Ptolemaic universe at least somewhat seriously, that was not the case for Byron in the 19th century. Act II of Cain shows Lucifer taking the title character to "The Abyss of Space" and asking him to point out the Earth. Cain responds:

                                                        As we move

    Like sunbeams onward, it grows small and smaller,

    And as it waxes little, and then less,

    Gathers a halo round it, like the light

    Which shone the roundest of the stars, when I

    Beheld them from the skirts of Paradise...

Howe notes how Cain becomes lost in the vastness of space. He seems to suffer from the pain of the Copernican revolution, no longer able to count on the Earth being a fixed point. Interestingly, though, the cosmos he sees still has elements of the Ptolemaic model of the universe, including not just "ether" also a heaven that is a "blue wilderness" postulated by earlier astronomers who thought the sky only grew dark when the Earth's shadow passed over it.

Flora Lisica of Northeastern University London speculates in "Byron's Manfred and Tragedy in the 'Mental Theatre'" that the tragedies of Byron achieve their greatest intimacy when read. Curiously, she does not include Heaven and Earth with the tragic plays Byron had published. (The play is a sort of sequel to his earlier drama Cain.) However, she does remind readers of the advice--traced back to Roman drama--that Byron gives in his poem Hints from Horace:

    Yet many deeds preserved in history's page

    Are better told than acted on the stage;

    The ear sustains what shocks the timid eye,

    And horror thus subsides to sympathy...

Later in the article, Lisica quotes from one of Byron's letters he wrote after seeing Barbarina Wilmot's tragedy Ina, which failed at Drury Lane, probably due to the half-hearted acting of Edmund Kean. Byron lamented Kean's poor performance, and the fact that the epilogue recited by Sarah Bartley could hardly be heard. Alas, the play bombed, in spite of fine performances by Alexander Rae as the villainous monk Baldred and Julia Glover as Princess Edelfleda.

Perhaps it was the fear of failing with a play like Ina that made Byron turn inward when writing Manfred, creating a deeply introspective work. In any case, I enjoyed reading both articles and look forward to the next issue of The Byron Journal when it arrives.

Reviewed in COLERIDGE BULLETIN

Noted scholar Julie Carlson has reviewed my new book Romantic Actors, Romantic Dramas: British Tragedy on the Regency Stage in the latest issue of The Coleridge Bulletin.

The journal is published by The Friends of Coleridge, which celebrates the life and work of the poet and dramatist Samuel Taylor Coleridge, author of the tragedy Remorse, among other works. My book contains a chapter on Remorse, which made it an apt piece to be reviewed in the journal.

Carlson is a major figure in the study of British Romanticism, and is perhaps best known for her 1994 book In the Theatre of Romanticism: Coleridge, Nationalism, Women. I was thrilled to find she's reviewed my own book, noting that it offers a "bold corrective" to those who resist acknowledging Coleridge's standing as a practical playwright.

My book emphasizes the roles of actors in shaping dramas during the Regency period in Britain. In the case of Remorse, the magnificent Julia Glover played a crucial role in the play's success. Though Glover is not as well known as other actors I examine in the book--including Sarah Siddons, Edmund Kean, and Eliza O'Neill--she helped to make Remorse a rousing success on stage.

As Carlson notes in her review, during the rehearsal process Coleridge exhibited a "new receptiveness to the revolutionary power of women and the strength of their influence." This is no doubt attributable at least in part to Glover, who has been sadly neglected by historians of the theatre.

I hope other publications review the book with the sensitivity and insight Carlson displayed.

My Book on Sale!

If you've been wanting to order a copy of my new book, Romantic Actors, Romantic Dramas, but were putting it off because copies were too expensive, now is the time to get one, as the book is currently on sale for $24.99!

That's only if you get the hardcover edition, of course. If you want the e-book, you still have to pay $89. Yes, the illustrations are in color in the electronic version, but not only is there no substitute for paper, but the hard copy is currently cheaper, so why not get it?

Click here to order the book. I'm not sure how long the sale will last, so you might want to order it soon. The publisher, Palgrave Macmillan, is also advertising free shipping on select orders. Oh, and if you're in Europe, they're advertising books for €24.99 as well. (That's slightly more expensive at current exchange rates, but might be cheaper than paying conversion fees.)

The full title of the book is Romantic Actors Romantic Dramas: British Tragedy on the Regency Stage. It reinterprets British dramas of the Romantic era through the lens of the star actors for whom they were written. In addition to providing an overview of the period, the book provides four in-depth case studies of actors and the playwrights they influenced: Sarah Siddons and Joanna Baillie, Julia Glover and S.T. Coleridge, Edmund Kean and Lord Byron, and Eliza O'Neill and P.B. Shelley.

Hopefully, you'll find it insightful and filled with interesting surprises!

LEOPOLDSTADT Episode Airs Tomorrow

Tomorrow THEATER: All the Moving Parts on CUNY TV will be airing an episode on Tom Stoppard's new play Leopoldstadt featuring some commentary by yours truly.

The show will also feature Faye Castelow, Arty Froushan and Brendan Uranowitz, three of the 38 cast members in the play. Host Patrick Pacheco interviews them about the challenges of bringing Leopoldstadt to life. He also speaks to veteran Stoppard director Jack O'Brien and me about the writer's theatrical legacy.

You can catch the show tomorrow at 9:30 pm. It will then re-air on Saturday at 7:30 am and 3:30 pm, Sunday at 6:30 am, and then Monday at 7:00 am, 1:00 pm, and 11:00 pm. CUNY TV is available on NYC Metro 25.3, Spectrum/Optimum 75, RCN 77, and Verizon FiOS 30. If you've disconnected from cable, you can watch the show on its YouTube channel.

It was great fun filming the show. They were also kind enough to mention my new book Romantic Actors, Romantic Dramas which is now available both in hardcover and as an ebook. The ISBN for the print book is 978-3-031-13709-9 and for the ebook is 978-3-031-13710-5. It runs 233 pages and includes images of Regency actors including Sarah Siddons, Julia Glover, Edmund Kean, and Eliza O'Neill.

Unfortunately, in spite of being a finalist for the Dramatists Guild Foundation Fellows, I was not named as one of the fellows this year. However, the DGF has now named the fellows for this cycle: Aaron Coleman, Nicholas Connors, Joriah Kwamé, Matthew Libby, Zizi Majid, Julián Mesri, Gloria Oladipo, April Dae Okpwae, and SMJ. Congratulations to them all!

The Book Is Finally Out!

After a long wait, my new book Romantic Actors, Romantic Dramas: British Tragedy on the Regency Stage is now available from publisher Palgrave Macmillan.

The book reinterprets British dramas of the Romantic era through the lens of the star actors for whom they were written. It is the first book-length study to examine the interplay of early 19th century actors and the dramatists writing for them.

I've tried to answer questions about how and why actors from the Romantic period influenced major writers. The work focuses on four pairs of actors and playwrights: Sarah Siddons and Joanna Baillie, Julia Glover and S.T. Coleridge, Edmund Kean and Lord Byron, and Eliza O'Neill and P.B. Shelley.

If you're interested in any of those people, you'll want a copy of this book. Unfortunately, both the e-book and the hardcover version are rather pricey at the moment, but Palgrave Macmillan does frequently have sales, so keep your eyes open for possible discounts to come.

In the meantime, ask your local library to order a copy. The hardcover is still not officially released, but you will be able to pre-order the physical book soon. Electronic versions are available already.

The cover image features Eliza O'Neill. Interior images include a mezzotint of Siddons, a toy theatre version of Coleridge's play Remorse, a close-up photograph of a screen owned by Lord Byron, and a cartoon comparing Siddons and O'Neill.

British Romantic Theatre Salon

Covid-19 has cancelled a number of conferences, or at least driven them online. Last week, the British Association for Romantic Studies began its International Digital Conference, which runs until this Friday.

I've already Zoomed in for a panel on "Poetic Reckonings" that discussed Joanna Baillie, a panel on "Communicative Powers" that covered letters between Fanny Brawne and Fanny Keats, a panel on "Appropriations and Reworkings" that examined how German heroines were adapted for the London stage, and a panel on "Weaving the Gothic" that addressed the gothic tales of Percy Shelley.

Today's virtual salon on Romantic Theatre was the best, though. Sarah Burdett, from St. Mary's University in Twickenham, did an excellent job hosting the event. I was happy to find that she has a great interest in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's play Remorse and the actress Julia Glover who helped to make it such a success. I was also pleased to hear of other people who have taught Baillie's play De Monfort.

Though opportunities to see live theatre are still relatively few and far between, there are performances available online right now, and I discovered at the salon that Yale University's staged reading of the Horace Walpole play The Mysterious Mother is currently available on YouTube. Francesca Saggini, who teaches at Università degli Studi della Tuscia in Italy, is planning on doing some virtual readings of plays by Fanny Burney, which could be a lot of fun.

On Thursday and Friday, there will be more panels, including one on scandals around Lord Byron, and one on "Visuality and Self" that will cover Mary Robinson as well as other figures. Though it hasn't been as fun as attending the BARS Conference in Nottingham in 2019, I'm glad I've at least had some contact with other scholars of Romantic drama this summer.

Madame Vestris and the London Stage

Lucia Elizabeth Bartolozzi, later known as Madame Vestris, was born into an interesting family, to say the least. Her father, Gaetano Bartolozzi, was an art dealer and son of an engraver to King George III, and her mother, Therese Jansen Bartolozzi, was a musician to whom the great Haydn had dedicated five different piano pieces.

When she was just 15, she met Armand Vestris, a ballet dancer at the King's Theatre in London. The two married at the church of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields in 1813. At the age of 18, Madame Vestris made her debut as a performer, taking the title role in Peter von Winter's opera Il Ratto di Proserpina. She made quite an impression, winning even the admiration of Princess Charlotte.

Though Madame Vestris was gaining the affection of the crowds, that audience did not include her husband. He took her to Paris, where he hoped to renew his career, and then left her there, heading off with another woman to Naples, where he had an engagement at the Teatro San Carlo. They never saw each other again.

Returning to London, Madame Vestris made her debut at Drury Lane in the comic opera The Siege of Belgrade. Seeing her there, the critic Leigh Hunt called her "a true singer, a pleasing actress, and a handsome woman; three graces not very frequently united in the same woman."

This "handsome woman" had such fine legs that audiences flocked to see her dressed as a man. She appeared as a Persian prince in Artaxerxes and then as the great libertine in Giovanni in London, a burlesque sequel to Mozart's Don Giovanni that follows the arch-rake after he gets kicked out of Hell for trying to seduce the Furies. More trouser roles followed, including Macheath in John Gay's The Beggar's Opera.

Hunt wrote disapprovingly of these roles, claiming: "The more we are pleased with her in trousers and boots, the more we long to see her out of them.... In a word, we never remember an instance of an actress who contrived to be at once so very much of a gentleman and yet so entire and unaltered a woman." Whether or not Hunt was entirely aware of the sexual nature of these comments, the male admirers of Madame Vestris were certainly drawn to her, and for more than just her acting skills.

By 1822, Madame Vestris had taken up residence on Curzon Street, where she earned the nickname "The Siren of Mayfair." She gathered a bevy of admirers, jokingly referred to as her "Vestry-men." Her husband died in 1825, but it was not as if the swells of London had considered her unavailable before then. That same year, Madame Vestris had her breakout hit, appearing opposite John Liston in John Poole's comedy Paul Pry at the Haymarket. She sang the song "Cherry Ripe," a ditty whose sexual double-entendres were surely not lost on the audience. The play was performed 115 times that season, giving it the longest initial run of any play in London since the original production of The Beggar's Opera.

Gossipmongers endlessly speculated about which "Vestry-men" had made it into her bed. However, as William W. Appleton puts it in his biography Madame Vestris and the London Stage: "Her reputed stable of lovers would have taxed the energies of a full-time courtesan, let alone those of an extraordinarily busy actress." In fact, the letters of some of her admirers suggest that while she might have been a great flirt, she tended to hold off sexual relations, much to their frustration.

As interesting as her career as an actress was, Madame Vestris is known primarily for her role as a theatre manager. Certainly, women had managed theatres in Britain before, but none had been quite as prominent as Madame Vestris. In 1830, while she was working at the Tottenham Street Theatre, Charles Kemble, then the lessee of Covent Garden, brought suit against the minor theatre, arguing it had no license to perform "legitimate" drama. On December 6, the theatre announced it would have to close, and that same day, Madame Vestris rented another theatre, the Olympic, from John Scott for a thousand pounds a year.

As head of the her own theatre, she abolished benefit nights, which did not always function to an actor's benefit anyway, and hired the gifted comic actress Julia Glover. She also got rid of the long lists of people to receive free tickets, offering complimentary admission only to the press. Similarly, the Green Room became more exclusive, as she ushered out any outsiders who did not need to be there, which simultaneously made the theatre more respectable.

Acutely aware of the dangers of presenting "legitimate" serious dramas that might compete with the two patent houses at Covent Garden and Drury Lane, Madame Vestris produced elaborate light entertainments, many written and designed by James Planché. She played the central character of Pandora in Planché's Olympic Revels, which aimed to please but not intellectually challenge its audience.

In 1835, she hired for six pounds a week Charles James Mathews, the son of the famous comedian Charles Mathews. By the next year, there were already rumors they were sleeping with each other. He was only seven years younger than her, but the pairing turned heads. It was one thing for a man managing a theatre to have a relationship with a younger actress. For a woman manager to take up with a pretty-boy novice whose main claim to fame was his celebrity dad was another matter.

(However, some of the men spreading rumors were probably just jealous. Not yet 40, Madame was still recognized as having the best pair of legs in London.)

Though gossip persisted, the couple kept mum. Then, on July 18, 1838, a week before the company was scheduled to set sail on an American tour, the two were quietly married. The service was over and the two were out the door of the church before the public had a chance to come and gawk. Cruel commentators noted that recent productions at the Olympic had included You Can't Marry Your Grandmother and What Have I Done? It didn't matter. The couple was to enjoy a long, happy union, in spite of the naysayers.

The following year, the great actor William Macready announced he was giving up the management of Covent Garden. Madame Vestris, as she was still called, or Mrs. Mathews, which was her more proper legal name, jumped at the opportunity. She announced that she would be taking over the lease of one of the two inner sanctums of British high drama. Reassuring the public comic actors would not be usurping great tragic roles, she declared: "Mr. Mathews will not play Macbeth and I have positively refused Queen Katharine."

For her debut production at Covent Garden, she revived Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost, which had not been seen on stage since the days of the Bard himself. "I have done great things in a small theatre so you will not now find cause to complain that I have done small things in a great one," she announced before the curtain went up. She herself played Rosaline, the best female part in the play, but in spite of the production's ambitions, it did not please the audience.

Taking seriously Covent Garden's mission to provide high art, Madame Vestris produced Leigh Hunt's poetic drama A Legend of Florence, but it came off feeling like a watered-down version of Romeo and Juliet. She had better luck producing more of Planché's extravaganzas, like The Fortunate Isles and The Sleeping Beauty.

She still stuck to her ambitions of producing great Shakespearian comedy, first with The Merry Wives of Windsor and then with A Midsummer Night's Dream. The latter play had not been performed in its original form since the Puritans had closed the theatres in 1642. Instead, the Restoration era had transformed it into an opera. The landmark production she staged in 1840 marked an important milestone in the return on Shakespeare productions to the original texts.

An even bigger theatrical milestone came in 1841 with the production of Dion Boucicault's London Assurance. Though the play did not have the first box set in England (in fact, Madame Vestris had already given the public a rudimentary box set at the Olympic for the play The Conquering Game), the scenery was so magnificent it drew its own applause. Covent Garden was enjoying great artistic success, even though the high rent kept the company only just solvent.

Then, Charles Kemble struck again. The same man who had shut down the Tottenham Street Theatre when he was running Covent Garden decided he wanted his old theatre back. He maneuvered to get the proprietors to terminate the lease for a temporary shortfall of 600 pounds, allowing them to seize 14,000 pounds worth of properties Madame Vestris still had in the theatre.

After being thrown out of the theatre in which they had made their livelihood, Madame Vestris and her husband found themselves living hand to mouth. In 1847, facing competition from other great actors, "Mrs. Mathews" went on a farewell tour of the provinces. The farewell tour proved so lucrative, she was able to return to London with her husband and lease the Lyceum Theatre. So much for farewells!

At the Lyceum, they produced popular extravaganzas, but money troubles continued to plague them. In 1856, Madame Vestris died, and her husband made sure the funeral was solemn and private, much like their wedding. She was buried at Kensal Green, but her legacy lived on, in a London theatre scene that would be forever changed.

Vincent De Camp

Let us now sing the praises of Vincent De Camp, or if not sing his praises, laugh a little at the sad history of this comic actor.

Vincent was born in 1777 into a family of singers, dancers, and actors. His sister, Maria Theresa, was quite a sensation, even at an early age, and later married Charles Kimble.

Alas, Vincent was unlucky in love. He reportedly developed a strong passion for Julia Glover, another comic actor, but she wouldn't have him. According to one account he "cured his passion by marrying a well-annuitated widow, who was nearly old enough to be his mother."

In 1812, Vincent fought a bloodless duel with a fellow actor, Robert William Elliston. The very next year, he appeared onstage with his former combatant in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's play Remorse. Vincent played Isidore, who tries to kill the character of Alvar. And who did Mr. Elliston play? Alvar.

Oh, but it gets better. Isidore is married to Alhadra. Who played Alhadra? Julia Glover, his old flame. No, that's not awkward at all....

In those days, a second-rate actor in England could often get starring roles by going to North America, so Vincent set sail for Canada. In 1833, he traveled to Philadelphia and performed at the Chestnut Street Theatre.

Later in life, he acted in Mobile, Alabama of all places. Poor old Vincent died in 1839 in Houston, Texas. Today, he is mostly forgotten.

Poor Julia Glover!

The life of an actress is rarely easy, but Julia Glover had it harder than most. Born Julia Betterton to a family of 18th-century actors, she went to work early. By the time she was six years old, she reportedly had appeared more times on stage than most actors do in their entire lives.

As a juvenile actress, she soon outshone her own father. Young Julia acted the part of the child Duke of York to George Frederick Cooke's Richard III. Her father drove hard bargains managing her career in the provinces, and in 1797 she made her London debut as Elvina in Hannah More's tragedy Percy.

While Mr. Betterton was living off of his daughter, he treated her horribly, and by one account even had her horsewhipped for slight or non-existent transgressions. Eventually, he decided to sell the goose that laid the golden eggs. In return for a thousand pounds, he agreed to coerce his daughter into marrying Samuel Glover, a so-called gentleman who was anything but.

Samuel said he loved Julia more than anything. He also said his bond for a thousand pounds was totally good. Mr. Betterton should not have believed him on either count. The two were married, and soon after, it was found that Glover's entire family had been reduced to poverty. Even had they still kept anything, Samuel wouldn't have received it. His father cut him off for marrying an actress, and Mr. Betterton was never paid.

Julia went from being forced to support a dead-beat parent to being forced to support a dead-beat husband. Fortunately, the theatres were willing to pay. John Philip Kemble gave her a three-year contract to play at Covent Garden. She played for four, and then after not getting what she asked for, left. In 1810, she joined the company of Drury Lane. Their theatre had burned down the previous year, so they were performing at the Lyceum, but when the new Drury Lane Theatre opened in 1812, hopes for the company were high.

Though Julia was known for her comic roles, she did a turn as Alhadra in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's gothic tragedy Remorse. Even more memorable for her contemporaries were her portrayals of Mrs. Malaprop in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's The Rivals and Mrs. Candour in Sheridan's The School for Scandal. The real scandal, however, was her husband Samuel. In addition to living off of Julia himself, he used her earnings to support a mistress. When she discovered this, she left him. But as he was still her husband, he demanded that Drury Lane pay her salary directly to him. The theatre balked. He sued. He won.

As if that weren't bad enough, Samuel tried to get custody of their children, in spite of never having taken an interest in them before. Presumably, his real motive was to extract more money from his wife. Whether he got it or not, she kept custody of the kids. Her eldest daughter ended up making a fine actress, taking the role of Juliet opposite Edmund Kean in a production that featured Julia as the nurse. Julia went on to play numerous older characters as she continued to act well into her twilight years. She gave her final performance in the role of Mrs. Malaprop on July 12, 1850. She died four days later.

For all her tragedy in life, Julia never lost her comic timing. According to an anecdote, she was once gossiping with two other actresses after the renowned Madam Vestris had married fellow actor Charles Mathews. Supposedly, before Vestis had accepted the proposal, she had made a full confession of all her previous lovers. "What touching confidence!" cried one actress. "What needless trouble!" cried another. "What a wonderful memory!" cried Julia.

A woman of such wit deserved better in life.