“The Vespers of Palermo was the earliest of the dramatic productions of our author. The period in which the scene is laid, is sufficiently known from the title of the play. The whole is full of life and action. The same high strain of moral propriety marks this piece as all others of her writings. The hero is an enthusiast for glory, for liberty, and for virtue: and on his courage, his forbearance, the integrity of his love, making the firmness of his patriotism appear doubtful, rests the interest of the plot. It is worthy of remark, that some of its best parts have already found their way into an excellent selection of pieces for schools, and thus contribute to give lessons of morality to those who are most susceptible of the interest of tragedy.
“It may not be so generally remembered, that the same historical event was made the subject of a French tragedy, about the same time that the English one was written, and by a poet now of great popularity in France. We hesitate not to give the preference to Mrs Hemans, for invention and interest, accurate delineation of character, and adherence to probability. Both the tragedies are written in a style of finished elegance.”—Professor Norton in North American Review, 1827.
It was in 1821, as mentioned in the prefatory note, that Mrs Hemans composed The Vespers of Palermo, and that the MS. was handed over to the Managing Committee of Covent Garden. Two years elapsed before her doubts regarding its fate were removed, and the result was as follows. In giving it here, let the reader remember, meanwhile, that we are carried forward, for the space of time mentioned, beyond the pale of our literary chronology:—
“After innumerable delays, uncertainties, and anxieties,” writes her sister, “the fate of the tragedy, so long in abeyance, was now drawing to a crisis. Every thing connected with its approaching representation was calculated to raise the highest hopes of success. ‘All is going on,’ writes Mrs Hemans on the 27th November, ‘as well as I could possibly desire. Only a short time will yet elapse before the ordeal is over. I received a message yesterday from Mr Kemble, informing me of the unanimous opinion of the green room conclave in favour of the piece, and exhorting me to “be of good courage.” Murray has given me two hundred guineas for the copyright of the “tragedy, drama, poem, composition, or book,” as it is called in the articles which I signed yesterday. The managers made exceptions to the name of Procida—why or wherefore I know not; and out of several others which I proposed to them, The Vespers of Palermo has been finally chosen.’
“Under these apparently favourable auspices, the piece was produced at Covent Garden on the night of December 12, 1823, the principal characters being taken by Mr Young, Mr C. Kemble, Mr Yates, Mrs Bartley, and Miss F. H. Kelly. Two days had to elapse before the news of its reception could reach St Asaph. Not only Mrs Hemans’s own family, but all her more immediate friends and neighbours, were wrought up to a pitch of intense expectation. Various newspapers were ordered expressly for the occasion, and the post-office was besieged at twelve o’clock at night, by some of the more zealous of her friends, eager to be the first heralds of the triumph so undoubtingly anticipated. The boys had worked themselves up into an uncontrollable state of excitement, and were all lying awake ‘to hear about mamma’s play;’ and perhaps her bitterest moment of mortification was, when she went up to their bedsides, which she nerved herself to do almost immediately, to announce that all their bright visions were dashed to the ground, and that the performance had ended in all but a failure. The reports in the newspapers were strangely contradictory, and, in some instances, exceedingly illiberal: but all which were written in anything like an unbiassed tone, concurred entirely with the private accounts, not merely of partial friends, but of perfectly unprejudiced observers, in attributing this most unexpected result to the inefficiency of the actress who personated Constance, and who absolutely seemed to be under the influence of some infatuating spell, calling down hisses, and even laughter, on scenes the most pathetic and affecting, and, to crown all, dying gratuitously at the close of the piece. The acting of Young and Kemble in the two Procidi, was universally pronounced to have been beyond all praise, and their sustained exertions showed a determination to do all possible justice to the author. It was admitted that, at the fall of the curtain, applause decidedly predominated: still the marks of disapprobation were too strong to be disregarded by the managers, who immediately decided upon withdrawing the piece, till another actress should have fitted herself to undertake the part of Constance, when they fully resolved to reproduce it. Mrs Hemans herself was very far from wishing that this fresh experiment should be made. ‘Mr Kemble,’ writes she to a friend, ‘will not hear of The Vespers being driven off the stage. It is to be reproduced as soon as Miss Foote, who is now unwell, shall be sufficiently recovered to learn her part; but I cannot tell you how I shrink, after the fiery ordeal through which I have passed, from such another trial. Mr Kemble attributes the failure, without the slightest hesitation, to what he delicately calls “a singularity of intonation in one of the actresses.” I have also heard from Mr Milman, Mr J. T. Coleridge, and several others, with whom there is but one opinion as to the cause of the disaster.’
“Few would, perhaps, have borne so unexpected a reverse with feelings so completely untinged with bitterness, or with greater readiness to turn for consolation to the kindness and sympathy which poured in upon her from every side. It would be doing her injustice to withhold her letter to Mr Milman, written in the first moments of disappointment.
‘Bronwylfa, Dec. 16, 1823.
“‘My dear Sir,—It is difficult to part with the hopes of three years, without some painful feelings; but your kind letter has been of more service to me than I can attempt to describe. I will not say that it revives my hopes of success, because I think it better that I should fix my mind to prevent those hopes from gaining any ascendency; but it sets in so clear a light the causes of failure, that my disappointment has been greatly softened by its perusal. The many friends from whom I have heard on this occasion, express but one opinion. As to Miss Kelly’s acting, and its fatal effect on the fortunes of the piece, I cannot help thinking that it will be impossible to counteract the unfavourable impression which this must have produced, and I almost wish, as far as relates to my own private feelings, that the attempt may not be made. I shall not, however, interfere in any way on the subject. I have not heard from Mr Kemble; but I have written both to him and to Mr Young, to express my grateful sense of their splendid exertions in support of the piece. As a female, I cannot help feeling rather depressed by the extreme severity with which I have been treated in the morning papers. I know not why this should be, for I am sure I should not have attached the slightest value to their praise; but I suppose it is only a proper chastisement for my temerity—for a female who shrinks from such things has certainly no business to write tragedies.
“‘For your support and assistance, as well as that of my other friends, I cannot be too grateful; nor can I ever consider any transaction of my life unfortunate, which has given me the privilege of calling you a friend, and afforded me the recollection of so much long-tried kindness.—Ever believe me, my dear sir, most faithfully, your obliged