of Contents
This Tragedy was written in the summer and autumn of the year 1797; at Nether Stowey, in the county of Somerset. By whose recommendation, and of the manner in which both the Play and the Author were treated by the Recommender, let me be permitted to relate: that I knew of its having been received only by a third person; that I could procure neither answer nor the manuscript; and that but for an accident I should have had no copy of the Work itself. That such treatment would damp a young man’s exertions may be easily conceived: there was no need of after-misrepresentation and calumny, as an additional sedative. Authors, as young as I then was and as ignorant of the world, of the treatment they may meet with, I will add, that the Person who by a twice conveyed recommendation (in the year 1797) had urged me to write a Tragedy: who on my own objection that I was utterly ignorant of all Stage-tactics had promised that he would himself make the necessary alterations, if the Piece should be at all representable; who together with the copy of the Play (hastened by his means so as to prevent the full developement of the characters) received a letter from the Author to this purport, ‘that conscious of his inexperience, he had cherished no expectations, and should therefore feel no disappointment from the rejection of the Play; but that if beyond his hopes Mr. —— found in it any capability of being adapted to the Stage, it was delivered to him as if it had been his own Manuscript, to add, omit, or alter, as he saw occasion; and that (if it were rejected) the Author would deem himself amply remunerated by the addition to his Experience, which he should receive, if Mr. —— would point out to him the nature of its unfitness for public Representation’; — that this very Person returned me no answer, and, spite of repeated applications, retained my Manuscript when I was not conscious of any other Copy being in existence (my duplicate having been destroyed by an accident); that he suffered this Manuscript to wander about the Town from his house, so that but ten days ago I saw the song in the third Act printed and set to music, without my name, by Mr. Carnaby, in the year 1802; likewise that the same person asserted (as I have been assured) that the Play was rejected, because I would not submit to the alteration of one ludicrous line; and finally in the year 1806 amused and delighted (as who was ever in his company, if I may trust the universal report, without being amused and delighted?) a large company at the house of a highly respectable Member of Parliament, with the ridicule of the Tragedy, as ‘a fair specimen’, of the whole of which he adduced a line:
‘Drip! drip! drip! there’s nothing here but dripping.’
In the original copy of the Play, in the first Scene of the fourth Act,
Isidore had commenced his Soliloquy in the Cavern with the words:
‘Drip! drip! a ceaseless sound of water-drops,’,
as far as I can at present recollect: for on the possible ludicrous association being pointed out to me, I instantly and thankfully struck out the line. And as to my obstinate tenacity, not only my old acquaintance, but (I dare boldly aver) both the Managers of Drury Lane Theatre, and every Actor and Actress, whom I have recently met in the Green Room, will repel the accusation: perhaps not without surprise.]
I thought it right to record these circumstances; but I turn gladly and with sincere gratitude to the converse. In the close of last year I was advised to present the Tragedy once more to the Theatre. Accordingly having altered the names, I ventured to address a letter to Mr. Whitbread, requesting information as to whom I was to present my Tragedy. My Letter was instantly and most kindly answered, and I have now nothing to tell but a Tale of Thanks. I should scarce know where to begin, if the goodness of the Manager, Mr. ARNOLD, had not called for my first acknowledgements. Not merely as an acting Play, but as a dramatic Poem, the ‘REMORSE’ has been importantly and manifoldly benefited by his suggestions. I can with severest truth say, that every hint he gave me was the ground of some improvement. In the next place it is my duty to mention Mr. RAYMOND, the Stage Manager. Had the ‘REMORSE’ been his own Play — nay, that is saying too little — had I been his brother, or his dearest friend, he could not have felt or exerted himself more zealously.
As the Piece is now acting, it may be thought presumptuous in me to speak of the Actors; yet how can I abstain, feeling, as I do, Mrs.Glover’s powerful assistance, and knowing the circumstances under which she consented to act Alhadra? A time will come, when without painfully oppressing her feelings, I may speak of this more fully. To Miss SMITH I have an equal, though different acknowledgement to make, namely, for her acceptance of a character not fully developed, and quite inadequate to her extraordinary powers. She enlivened and supported many passages, which (though not perhaps wholly uninteresting in the closet) would but for her have hung heavy on the ears of a Theatrical Audience. And in speaking the Epilogue, a composition which (I fear) my hurry will hardly excuse, and which, as unworthy of her name, is here [1828, 1829, 1834] omitted, she made a sacrifice, which only her established character with all judges of Tragic action, could have rendered compatible with her duty to herself. To Mr. DE CAMP’S judgement and full conception of Isidore; to Mr. POPE’S accurate representation of the partial, yet honourable Father; to Mr. ELLISTON’S energy in the character of ALVAR, and who in more than one instance gave it beauties and striking points, which not only delighted but surprised me; and to Mr. RAE, to whose zeal, and unwearied study of his part, I am not less indebted as a Man, than to his impassioned realization of ORDONIO, as an Author; —— to these, and to all concerned with the bringing out of the Play, I can address but one word — THANKS! — but that word is uttered sincerely! and to persons constantly before the eye of the Public, a public acknowledgement becomes appropriate, and a duty.
I defer all answers to the different criticisms on the Piece to an Essay, which I am about to publish immediately, on Dramatic Poetry, relatively to the present State of the Metropolitan Theatres.
From the necessity of hastening the Publication I was obliged to send the Manuscript intended for the Stage: which is the sole cause of the number of directions printed in italics.
S. T. COLERIDGE.
PROLOGUE
BY C. LAMB
Spoken by Mr. CARR
There are, I am told, who sharply criticise
Our modern theatres’ unwieldy size.
We players shall scarce plead guilty to that charge,
Who think a house can never be too large:
Griev’d when a rant, that’s worth a nation’s ear, 5
Shakes some prescrib’d Lyceum’s petty sphere;
And pleased to mark the grin from space to space
Spread epidemic o’er a town’s broad face. —
O might old Betterton or Booth return
To view our structures from their silent urn, 10
Could Quin come stalking from Elysian glades,
Or Garrick get a day-rule from the shades —
Where now, perhaps, in mirth which Spirits approve,
He imitates the ways of men above,
And apes the actions of our upper coast, 15
As in his days of flesh he play’d the ghost: —
How might they bless our ampler scope to please,
