Part One: The Dazzling Dozen
In 1996, I published an article titled "Exploiting the Medium: Mesmerism and the Strange Case of Anna Cora Mowatt" in the journal Text and Performance Quarterly. I still consider this publication to be my most interesting and successful piece of writing about Anna Cora Mowatt. However, for several years now, I’ve been itching to revisit the article. As you might imagine, after twenty-seven years, I’ve changed my mind about some of the opinions I expressed in the article. More concerning than this desire to reflect my current thoughts, though, I’ve uncovered mistakes in the writing.
I’m not talking about the sort of awkward phrasing or typos that you inevitably catch after something has gone to print. No. I’m talking about a few blatant factual errors.
If the subject of my research was well-known figure such as Charles Dickens or Jane Austen, then obviously my major professor, dissertation committee members, the team of reviewers, or the journal editor would have caught the sort of confusions of names, dates, and events that I’m talking about early on in my writing process. However, because I was writing about such an obscure figure, I was far more of an expert on Mowatt than any of my advisors after only four years of study. In some cases -- as you’ll see when I point them out -- the minor factual errors that crept into this work have little bearing on the conclusions I drew. In others, they are fairly significant.
To young scholars looking for a research subject, let this aspect of my experience stand as a warning. Yes, I loved wearing the cape of the scholarly hero and feeling that I was rescuing my subject from years of academic neglect. I also enjoyed having the freedom of not being responsible for the weight of generations of other people’s scholarship to take into account before I could open my mouth to express an opinion. However, because my research was into only lightly charted territory, I didn’t have the kind of safety net that was normally present for journeyman scholars. I needed to have a much greater depth and breadth of knowledge concerning my research subject than I realized I needed to have at my command much, much, much faster than I realized that I needed to know it. There weren’t experts on my chosen person around me to fill in the gaps, catch my mistakes, point me towards resources, and warn me off dead ends specific to my research that other young scholars investigating the lives and careers of more well-known figures usually have.
Writing about under-researched historical figures is exciting and vitally necessary. Despite the difficulties I faced as an academic, I still firmly believe that more mentors should turn to their students and say, “No, the world does not actually need another dissertation on Charles Dickens to throw on the already gigantic pile. Why don’t you consider writing about one of the hundreds of thousands of other people from all other sorts of varied walks of life who were living and writing during those decades?” However, I freely acknowledge that there are many daunting challenges to writing and publishing about under-researched figures. The process is more of a high-wire act than it seems like it might be. Make sure you have good support, young scholars. Be brave, but be careful!
With all that being said, for a long time now I have been wishing to take up the topic of Anna Cora Mowatt’s experiences with mesmerism again. I have gone so far as to outline a series of blog entries on the subject. I even did a certain amount of writing. However, the topic was just too big and complex. I also got bogged down – as I have already done in this introduction – in talking about my journal article from 1996.
What I have decided to do is to break the many experiences Mowatt had with mesmerism over the course of her life down into different phases and write about each separately instead of trying to cover everything at once. There are samples of her writing as well as interviews that I did not have access to when I was doing my initial research that I think shed light on her state of mind during her mesmeric experiences. I plan to use these texts to enrich the perspective I have previously presented.
Additionally, to keep my writing on track and avoid too many unprofitable digressions, I pledge to stop obsessing about the mistakes in that 1996 journal article as well… But don’t hold your breath on the certainty of my keeping to that promise….
The Twelve Performance Wonder
The story of Anna Cora Mowatt’s entry into the bizarre and mysterious world of mesmerism begins, improbably enough, with her brief but memorable outing as that most staid and intellectual of performers, the Victorian-era Public Reader. Since I have already engaged in a certain amount of self-disclosure in this essay, I will go ahead and admit that I encountered her first in this guise, not as a playwright, novelist, or an actress.
That might not sound particularly remarkable to you.
Let me try to put this factoid in perspective -- To the extent that Mowatt has any lasting fame today at all, she is known to Theatre and Literary historians first as a playwright, second as an actress, and finally as a writer. Her career as a Public Reader lasted a grand total of four months. She performed around a dozen times. So, yeah. Unlikely that I would hear about that career adventure first… or at all.
Although I have a BFA in Acting, my Ph.D. is in a discipline called Performance Studies. Despite the fact that this field did not exist in the 1840s, the discipline still claims Mowatt as one of its founding spirits because of her trailblazing work in the oral interpretation of literature. As author David Thompson says of her in his collection of essays on the history of Performance Studies;
Anna Cora Mowatt's one season of readings in 1841-42 was a success for her and a new departure in the history of interpretation in America. Before her, only a very few men had occasionally given a professional reading, and almost no women had done so. 1
In his excellent book on the largely ignored history of solo performers during the nineteenth century in the U.S., “Cast of One: One-Person Shows from the Chautauqua platform to the Broadway Stage,” John Gentile defines the lasting impact of Mowatt’s career as a Public Reader this way;
The brevity of Mowatt’s solo career does not diminish its significance in the history of the one-person show in America. Anna Cora Mowatt — a lady from respectable society — had dared to appear as a professional platform reader. Her audacity paved the way for other women to follow. 2
Later in his summary of her career, Gentile goes on to praise Mowatt for her advocacy of the stage in a time of still-strong anti-theatrical prejudice;
Anna Cora Mowatt was ahead of her time both in her willingness to appear on the public platform as a professional reader and, later, in her acceptance of the theatre as a respectable form of entertainment. In both instances, the country followed her lead. In relation to women on the platform, only a few years elapsed before members of polite society of either gender appeared in public on the platform without ridicule. In relation to the theatre as an accepted form of entertainment, a longer period of time was necessary. Indeed, the prejudice against the theatre did not relax for over half a century. 3
Before continuing, allow me to step back and once more underline the extreme brevity of Mowatt’s career as a Public Reader by providing you with this quote from David Thompson’s book that enumerates each of her appearances;
The total of eight New York readings included four nights at Stuyvesant Institute beginning November 18, 1841, one at the Lyceum in Brooklyn on November 27, the Rutger's Institute for Young Ladies on December 8, and two at the Society Library on January 12 and 13, 1842. Those eight readings, preceded by the three in Boston and one in Providence, made up the dozen readings during 1841-42 which constituted Anna Cora Mowatt's entire career as a public reader. 4
Being cited as an inspirational figure of an entire movement in U.S. performance history for twelve shows is a lot of legacy bang for one’s performance buck. Why did these dozen performances end up having so much impact? As you might imagine, I have formed some definite opinions on this question. Let me address a few other burning issues first, though.
The Nature and Importance of Public Reading in the U.S. in the 1840s
All this praise of this obscure form of performance artistry may have you asking what exactly a public reader is. Remember that in the U.S. in the 1830s and 40s many conservative religious and reputation conscious individuals still maintained deep reservations about the propriety of Theatre. Although stars like Charlotte Cushman and Edwin Forrest were respected and admired by the theater-going public, the line between badly-paid chorus girl and prostitute was not always bright and clear. Police conducted raids to clean up complaints of solicitation at even Broadway’s most upscale venues. There were laws on the books in some states equating actors with vagrants and forbidding the building of playhouses inside the city limits of major metropolises.
Mimesis, the act of pretending to be someone else -- the very basis of all performance -- was viewed by some devout thinkers as a form of lying. Acting, therefore, was always at its very core a sinful activity that imperiled both the souls of actors and audience in the minds of such individuals. Add to this philosophical perspective the immense popularity of theatre with the political enemies of the Puritans and other religious extremists before they left (or were forcibly ejected from) Europe and I’m sure you can start to appreciate the toxic mix of factors that led to the long-standing accumulation of anti-theatrical prejudices that lingered from colonial days to the mid-nineteenth century in U.S. public opinion. These negative views were formalized into legislation in localities scattered throughout the eastern seaboard that in some cases remained on the books until as late as the early twentieth century.
In other essays collected on this blog I have mentioned the “museums” of the era that were theaters in all but name. Public readings were another example of a form of entertainment meant to palliate the sensibilities of those who found theatre offensive. Although many of the most famous and successful public readers were actors, what they were doing was not classified by their fans as acting. Readers were interpreting.
Reading is a minimalist form of performance. The audience was not meant to be fully caught up in the illusion of mimesis. Auditors are always supposed to retain awareness at some level of the real identity of the person performing on the stage before them. Readers did not costume themselves as characters. Performers generally wore formal contemporary garb, frequently in dignified tones of black or grey. They usually did not use props or elaborate staging. A reader almost always carried a large book or a manuscript. Their only tools were their faces and their voices. The emphasis of such a performance was on the quality of the literary text and the power of the spoken word.
In our day of AI enhancement and CGI effects, there is doubtlessly some young person who will read this description and think, “Well, that sounds dull as dirt.” And I’m sure it does. Let me tell you, though, when you strip away all the extras and get down to the raw basics of performer and text, this setup can be powerful stuff in the right hands. Some of the most riveting, most moving theatrical moments I’ve ever experienced have been in this sort of format – No costume. No set. Just a gifted performer speaking words that set fire to your soul. That’s what theatre really is. Everything else is glitter and gift wrapping.
Chronology of Mowatt’s Public Reading Career
An element that makes Mowatt’s experiences as a public reader easy to research and therefore easy to ascribe to her credit– despite the short duration of this endeavor, her lack of notoriety at the time, and the obscurity of the art form -- is that there is a pleasingly ample amount of surviving documentation for the historian to draw upon. Mowatt devoted a full chapter of her autobiography to her experiences. She describes her motivations, lists her preparations for performance, gives us frank evaluations of her own abilities, summarizes critical response, and relays the reactions of friends and family to seeing her on stage, as well as providing dramatic and detailed first-hand accounts of selected performances. In short, Mowatt goes into as great if not greater detail for her ephemeral career as a public reader as she does for her highest triumphs on stage as an actress or playwright.
Plenty of independent reports of her recitals exist to corroborate the narrative Mowatt provides in her autobiography. Although she was an unknown embarking on a self-funded slate of appearances, her tour was well-publicized by the standards of the day. Reviews of the events appeared in each city’s major newspapers. In addition to ads stating the time, place, and giving a full list of the material to be performed, notices such as the following heralded her arrival in Boston in advance of her very first performance;
Mrs. Mowatt, who gives Elocutionary Readings at the Temple tomorrow night, belongs to one of the most distinguished families in the city of New York. She is said to be accomplished and beautiful, and to possess remarkable talents for recitation. 5
The above appeared in the Boston Evening Transcript, which regular readers of this blog will recognize as the home of Mowatt’s friend and ally, Epes Sargent . A slightly more dubious tone is detectable in the announcement from the Boston Courier printed the next day;
Mrs. Mowatt gives a series of readings and recitations this evening, at the Masonic Temple. This lady appears among us with strong recommendations from persons of respectability and taste, at the South, and we doubt not, will fulfil the expectations of her friends. 6
The last comment about “friends” makes it sound a bit as if the writer suspects this self-funded affair by an unknown amateur has a good chance of being a self-indulgent boondoggle. As if to make up for this hint of cynicism, the following eloquently ebullient recommendation instantly appeared in the Daily Atlas;
Mrs. Mowatt's ELOCUTIONARY Recitations. -- We ask attention of our readers to the card of Mrs. Mowatt, in another column of this paper, proposing to give at the Temple this evening, a series of elocutionary recitations. From the commendatory references which this gifted lady brings from other cities, we feel no hesitation in asking for her the favor and attention of our intelligent and literary community. Mrs. Mowatt is a young, accomplished and beautiful lady, and has been accustomed to the most polished society of the city of New York, and has added much to this natural riches of a mind of a superior character, by two years residence in France and Germany. “Her family,” writes a friend from New York, “is of the highest respectability—both of her grandfathers having been revolutionary generals, and one— (General Francis Lewis) a signer of our Declaration of Independence.”
Another friend writes us: “Mrs. Mowatt is favorably known to the reading public, by her well-timed contributions to the literature to the day. She visits your city for the purpose of delivering lectures on elocution, a task for which all those who have had the pleasure of hearing Mrs. M's recitations, in the days of her prosperity, at her own soirées and those of her friends, judge her to be particularly well qualified.
We hope and believe, that a public whose reputation for literary taste is so well established as that of this city, will not fail to avail itself of the rich intellectual treat that is offered by Mrs. Mowatt. 7
None of these items carry the name of their author. However, I will note that Epes Sargent was also a contributor to the Daily Atlas at this time.
Boston
With her novelist’s eye for detail and flair for the dramatic, Mowatt gives us a moment-by-moment account of her first opening night in Chapter VIII of her autobiography. This narration is a rare example of a description of a Victorian-era public reading from the performer’s point of view;
Two minutes more, and I was within view of the audience. Mr. Mowatt led me to the foot of the rostrum, but I ascended the steps alone. I remember curtseying slightly, half stunned by the repeated rounds of applause, the blaze of light, the dense crowd of faces all turned towards me. I sat down by the table that held my books, and mechanically opened the one from which I was to read. I rose with it in my hand. Again came the bursts of applause — the hall swam and then grew dark before me — I could not see the book that I held open in my hand — my veins were filled with ice — I seemed to myself transformed into a statue. Although I still stood, I could not, for a few seconds, have been more unconscious in a state of complete inanition.
The opening piece I had selected was the introduction to Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel, and the first words I had to utter were, —
"The way was long, the wind was cold."
I could deliver the line feelingly, indeed, for I was shivering violently, and weary and long seemed the way I had just entered.
At length, in an uncertain voice, I commenced to read. Long before I had half-finished the poem, my self-possession returned — a genial warmth displaced the icy chill, my voice grew loud and clear, and I found it easy to divest myself of all consciousness of the audience. I began also to become accustomed to the applause which at first oppressed and frightened me. I went through the various selections in order, and without betraying any further emotion.
When half the entertainment was over, there was an intermission of ten minutes, and I was at liberty to withdraw into the retiring room. There I was greeted by a host of friends, all loud in their congratulations, and a note from my faithful ally, Mrs. B__ s, told me of the delight of her party, and assured me of my perfect success. 8
Despite an initial attack of nerves, Mowatt felt she performed well. However, we do not have to take the word of Anna Cora and her friends for the success of the evening. The recital was amply covered by the Boston press. A correspondent from the Boston Post described the performance as follows;
Mrs. Mowatt’s Readings.—The novelty of Mrs. Mowatt’s attempt, and the high character given her by many of the most distinguished citizens of New York, brought together a large audience at the Temple last evening. But the partial opinions of private friends are so seldom confirmed by the less forgiving public, that it would be difficult to say whether hope or fear predominated among the many in the audience who wished her success. When she presented herself to the audience, however, all doubts vanished; her youth and beauty, and the modesty and grace of her demeanor won all hearts, and she was greeted by an enthusiastic burst of applause. Her soft and musical voice confirmed the favorable impression which her appearance had made; the audience were completely carried away, and at the end of her first recitation—the introduction to the lay of the Last Minstrel, the first portion of which her diffidence rendered almost inaudible in the remote parts of the house, she was honored with long continued applause. This cheered and animated her, gave firmness to her voice and freedom to her gestures, so that each succeeding piece seemed better than the last until all were concluded.
Vandenhoff, in the favorite recitation of Lochinvar, never drew louder plaudits from his audience than Mrs. Mowatt received last night. She had not, of course, the professional art of the old actor, but she had youth, beauty, and a joyous archness of voice and face which he had not, and which more than compensated. Lochinvar, Genevieve, and the extract from Mr Sprague’s Centennial Ode, were the gems of the evening. Each piece was prefaced by a few critical and explanatory remarks which were happily and gracefully expressed, and gave a favorable idea of the fair speaker’s mental powers.
Mrs Mowatt’s experiment was in all respects successful, and we risk nothing in predicting that on Saturday evening next, when she gives her second series of readings, there will not be a vacant seat in the house. 9
This account, like Mowatt’s own, focuses more on the interaction between the performer and her audience rather than providing an exacting critical evaluation of her skills as a reader. The composition and mood of Mowatt’s audience is also highlighted in the following short but effusive report from the Boston Transcript;
Mrs. Mowatt was greeted by a large and fashionable audience at the Temple last evening, which she highly delighted by her recitations. She is young, brilliant and beautiful as a moonlight night, and possesses a voice singularly musical, flexible, and firm. 10
This reporter, like most covering Mowatt’s reading, makes special mention of her youth, beauty, and exceptional voice as positive aspects of the performance that endeared her to audiences and made the evening enjoyable.
Newspapers in New York and New Jersey also covered Mowatt’s debut. The Newark Daily Advertiser provided the following meticulous account;
Readings and Recitations— By a Lady.—There was a large and highly respectable audience last evening at the Masonic Temple, attracted by a desire to listen to the Readings and Recitations of Mrs. Mowatt. The entertainment was a novel one in Boston, but many of those who were disposed to regard such entertainments with an eye of favor, and who listened to the reading of our lamented Simmons, and Vandenhoff, the tragedian, were apprehensive that a young, and beautiful, and sensitive woman, could hardly acquit herself satisfactorily in delivering choice extracts from the most gifted English and American authors. But such fears vanished, as the lady, arrayed in a neat and appropriate costume, gracefully stepped upon the platform. She was of course kindly received by the audience.
When she commenced her recitations, she exhibited embarrassment, arising from her novel situation; but her diffidence soon disappeared, beneath the smiles and plaudits of a discriminating audience; and her efforts to give satisfaction, were crowned with complete success. Her movements were singularly graceful, and with her expressive features, and musical voice, and superior intellect, chastened by refinement and taste, she gave some fine passages from eminent authors with a degree of beauty, propriety, and power, which we have seldom seen surpassed. It is possible, that in some of those passages, where she expressed the emotion of the human heart, her recitation may not have been so critically correct, as could have been expected from a teacher of elocution, or a distinguished tragedian; indeed, it is impossible that such should be the case. But on the other hand, she recited with a sweetness, and delicacy and grace, which has probably never been equaled in this city, and which won for her repeated and well-deserved tokens of approbation. The exquisite ballade of "Lochinvar” and "Genevieve,” although essentially different in their characters, when recited by Mrs. Mowatt, seemed to acquire new beauties: and the audience listened to all her recitation with an interest so profound, that the slightest noise could have been heard throughout the Hall. In a word, the recitations of Mrs. Mowatt were completely successful—and her introductory remarks, relating to each subject introduced, were of a character to add much to the value and attraction of the entertainment. Her remarks relating to the writings of Mrs. Hemans were particularly just and discriminating. Our readers will learn with pleasure that Mrs. Mowatt will favor the public with another series of Readings and Recitations tomorrow evening. 11
This report contains more specifics of the evening than any other than Mowatt’s in “Autobiography of an Actress.” It tallies very closely with the actress’ narrative – including her initial attack of nerves and her modest mode of dress. Mowatt describes her costuming decision;
I had resisted all entreaties to wear any rich attire, and was dressed in simple white muslin, a white rose in my bosom, and another in my hair. I wore no ornaments. 12
While not harshly critical, the reporter from the Daily Advertiser does not over-praise the performer. The writer strongly commends the charm of the speaker and is very complementary about the surprising level of skill demonstrated by a previously unknown artist. At the same time, the reporter does give potential listeners fair warning not to expect the sort of high polish they would anticipate from an experienced elocutionist such as famed British actor, John Vandenhoff.
The following economically compact review of Mowatt’s debut, written for the New York Times, was reprinted in several papers in cities as far away as Alexandria, Virginia and Chambersburg, Pennsylvania;
RECITATIONS BY A LADY.—A young lady in Boston, Mrs. Mowatt, has commenced a series of recitations from the poets -- a species of public entertainment highly refined. The Times thus speaks of her first appearance:
Mrs. Mowatt's first series of recitations from the poets was attended by one of the most select audiences we ever saw in the Temple. She succeeded admirably. She was listened to with the greatest attention, and appeared to give unmixed pleasure. The lady is quite young—we should not think more than twenty-two or three—and singularly interesting and beautiful in appearance. The truly feminine grace with which she went through her somewhat novel und difficult task—the free, forcible, and natural expression she gave to the feelings and emotions she depicted, never overstepping the modesty of nature and never falling short of truthful delineation; the sweet, musical, and varied tones of her voice; her accurate conception of the beauties of the authors from whose writings she recited, elicited hearty and frequent applause.
Rarely have we attended an entertainment which afforded more refined and intellectual pleasure. 13
Like similar items written for Boston papers, this account first draws note to the fact that Mowatt’s audience was wealthy and fashionable. The writer next highlights the performer’s youth and beauty. However, as in previous accounts, the reporter is careful to strike a balance in commending Mowatt’s physical appeal and emphasizing the extent to which the performance itself is decorous and intellectual in nature.
Rather than just covering the opening night of Mowatt’s readings and ignoring the rest of the run as would have been fairly standard practice for most entertainments, there are reviews for three of the four nights of her appearances in Boston. A correspondent from the Daily Atlas gave the following glowing review of the second night;
Mrs. Mowatt’s Elocutionary Readings at the Temple Thursday evening were pre-eminently successful. She was greeted with a crowded house, and her readings and recitations were received with mingled admiration and delight. All who were unable to hear this gifted lady on Thursday, as well as those were more fortunate, will be pleased to perceive that she will repeat her performances this evening. Those who wish to go must be in season, for the rush, we hazard nothing in predicting, will be very great. Her performances are truly wonderful, and those who do not improve the present opportunity to hear her, will deeply regret their loss when it will be too late. 14
Coverage of her third performance from this source was similarly enthusiastic;
Mrs. Mowatt’s third series of elocutionary recitations at the Temple on Tuesday evening were by far the most successful she has yet had, and it added very much to the regret of all that it was her last. Her recitation of Holmes’s “Katydid,” Scott’s Lochinvar and Blanche of Devon, and Campbell’s Soldier’s Dream, were exquisite and faultless. 15
The following review, which appeared in the Boston Traveler on November 2, corresponding with the third performance, went so far as to favorably compare Mowatt’s delivery with that of John Vandenhoff – although the writer felt that the performer’s gender necessitated the bar for quality being lowered considerably;
Elocution: Mrs. A.C. Mowatt – To recite another’s composition properly, is far more difficult than to speak our own: to comprehend his meaning, to understand his sentiment, to catch the spirit which dictated his verse, to identify one’s self with the author, and delineate the character he had drawn, in declamation, requires the simultaneous exercise of the entire faculties of the soul and the functions of the body; -- hence the magnitude of the performance of the task acceptably to the refined judgement of an audience in modern times. Appropriate articulation, tone, inflection, modulation, cadence, and emphasis, in reading; graceful attitude, posture, and gesture in action are the attributes which the speaker should constantly display while he is before the spectators. The general trait of the first is of capacity; of the second, paucity. The former charms the ear, the latter fascinates the eye. Of the great Garrick it is said, “he used action less than any other actor of the day; but it always had a meaning – it always spoke: by being less than that of other actors it had the greater force.” So with the voice. The movement of Vandenhoff’s finger, or his sweet pronunciation of a single sentence, would speak volumes. When, therefore, a man has acquired the above skill in rhetoric, he is indeed to be encouraged. But if a lady has attained it, she should be “applauded to the echo that applauds again.” Need we remind the reader that the fair elocutionist, whose name heads this notice, embodies and develops in her accomplished mind and beautiful person, the foregoing elements of this divine art? Does he ask for evidence of these statements? Her crowded and polished assemblies, their alternate breathless silence and rapturous applause to her recitations, are positive proofs of it. We ask all who have any taste, to go and judge of our declarations. 16
This review, despite its gender-based prejudices so strongly rooted in that time period, contains the highest praise of Mowatt’s skill as a performer. Note also that the writer in this instance chooses to discuss her mastery of technique before mentioning her beauty or fashionable friends. I also wished to include this report because I felt the writer did an excellent job of enumerating some of the finer points of the technique of elocution most appreciated by its aficionados.
As the writer indicates, elocution was an art that at this time was primarily the province of male practitioners. In the 1840s, there were very few female elocutionists recognized for the excellence of their vocal interpretive work. Charlotte Cushman and Fanny Kemble were rare examples of women praised by critics as masters of elocution.
Despite reviews such as these, in her autobiography Mowatt seemed to view the comments of the critics as indulgence rather than earned praise;
The critics dealt with me tenderly, as with a spoiled child whom Boston had suddenly adopted and was determined to protect. The papers teemed with notices; but they were eulogiums, not critiques. By common consent, it seemed to be decided that I was to be exempt from criticism. 17
The positive buzz generated by Mowatt’s good reviews was sufficient to inspire items like the following expressing interest in inviting the performer to schedule readings in cities such as Salem, Massachusetts and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Mrs. Mowatt, a lady of great refinement and cultivation, is giving public recitations in New York. She is the wife of a merchant in unfortunate circumstances, and is trying, by honorable means, to render herself a “helpmate.” In Boston she had crowded houses, and doubtless, if she possesses true merit, she would be appreciated in this city. 18
Items such as the above lead me to suspect that Mowatt probably had plans in motion for a tour of cities of the northeastern U.S. beyond a few isolated visits to New York and Boston. Utilizing the press to create positive publicity in advance of their arrival in a city would become a standard tactic for the Mowatts when Anna Cora became an actress. I would not be surprised to find that the couple, aided by their friend, newspaperman Epes Sargent, was already trying out this technique at this point.
Providence and New York
Whether or not there were plans being formulated for a tour of the Northeast, Mowatt did have further readings scheduled in the opening weeks of November, 1841. She described her experiences in Providence, Rhode Island and New York City as follows;
In passing through Providence, I read one night to a crowded audience. During the recitation of the Missing Ship, written for me by Epes Sargent, and descriptive of the loss of the steamship President, a lady present was so deeply moved that she was carried from the hall in violent hysterics. This poem proved one of the most valuable in my repertoire, for it never failed to impress an audience. The Light of the Lighthouse, by the same author, (which I afterwards frequently read in public,) was equally effective in the recitation. I made my selections as often as possible from American poets.
From Providence we went to New York, and a course of readings for four nights was announced to take place at the Stuyvesant Institute. Curiosity drew me full audiences; but I did not feel as though Sympathy sat side by side with Curiosity, as she had done in Boston. I found it more difficult to read impressively than I had done before my indulgent New England audiences. The sphere seemed different, the recipients less impressible. I could not feel the same easy abandon — the utter freedom from constraint. I had too many personal friends constantly present, and I thought too much of what the Mrs. Grundies were saying. 19
The only account I was able to find of Mowatt’s appearance in Providence was a brief mention in the Brooklyn Star. 20 The reporter disappointingly does not provide any confirmation of Mowatt’s tale of the lady who fainted in the middle of the reading of Epes Sargent’s poem.
There are more fulsome accounts of Mowatt’s recitals at the Stuyvesant Institute in November. The following review, as Mowatt indicated, although positive, is more reserved in its praise for the performer than had been the case for her performances in Boston.
Mrs. Mowatt’s Readings.—Mrs. Mowatt was welcomed to town by a highly intelligent and immense audience, upon the occasion of her first evening’s reading at the Stuyvesant Institute. Her success we regard as complete, and the entertainment afforded well repaying all who were disposed to while away and hour or two. Such entertainments are capable of being made profitable to all who listen and not only in hearing some of the best authors, but in the taste which may be acquired for reading, and hearing read that which cannot but improve and instruct. Mrs. Mowatt has a good person, great delicacy and refinement of manners, a sweet voice, and for the most part, as we think, a proper conception of the author and subject.
The recitations from Scott – the Introduction to the Lay of the Last Minstrel, and the Interview between Lord Cranston and Margret of Brackstone (from the Lay of the Last Minstrel,) and Lochinvar (from Marmion,) were spoken with spirit, emphasis, and great effect. So also “the Merry Heart,” “the Poet’s Lot,” and “The Missing Ship.” The recitations from the Corsair were also good, but spoken too hastily, with too much passion. We speak, however, but in comparison with the recitations we have referred to, from Scott and others. The introductory remarks of Mrs. Mowatt to several pieces did not please us so much, for the reason that the tone, and manner of the pieces recited were thrown into the remarks, and as if they were poetry, instead of plain prose giving a brief and simple sketch of the subject and the author. We are not, however, disposed to be critical, much less hypercritical, with Mrs. M.’s performances. We regard her success as complete, and do not remember ever to have passed an hour with more pleasure than we did on Saturday evening. As the best proof of it, and as the best compliment we can bestow, we were more pleased with the author’s quoted from, and the subjects spoken, than ever before. 21
Reviews, even positive ones like the above, contained caveats like “spoken too hastily, with too much passion.”
After this round of readings, Mowatt became ill. Scheduled performances had to be cancelled. In early December, though, Anna Cora rallied and was able to make a successful appearance at Rutgers and two final appearances at New York’s Society Library. She describes the experience as follows;
After fulfilling the course at the Stuyvesant Institute, I became seriously ill, and was forced to make several postponements of the time announced for my reading before the Rutger's Institute for Young Ladies. When I was scarcely convalescent, I read there one night. The hall was filled with an assemblage of lovely-looking young girls, and their evident enjoyment inspired me to read with more energy and feeling than I had done since my nights in Boston. 22
The correspondent for New York’s Evening Post who attended one of the Society Library recitals seems to agree with her positive assessment of the quality of her final performances;
This lady appeared on Wednesday evening, for the first time after a month’s indisposition, and she far surpassed all her previous performances. She was not the reciter, but the poet herself. Conceiving anew all the Bard’s conceptions, which gained additional force and brilliancy from her mind and feeling, and portraying his passions and emotions with an intensity and vividness which carries the coldest hearer captive. Byron’s Dream was given in a manner perfectly new and original, and we may add in one at least equal to any we have ever heard. The Brothers was a masterpiece; its closing scene filled us with horror; the expression of intense terror and agony depicted on the face of Mrs. Mowatt at the sight of the dead brother seemed reflected on that of a large part of the audience; and the Missing Ship, by one of our own poets, was electrifying; the Fall of Babylon, also by an American poet, evinced a power and volume of voice which we would have pronounced it impossible for so young and delicate looking a being to possess. We confess we are not, in general, admirers of ladies who dare to mount the rostrum, and meet the indiscriminate gaze of the public, but there is a quiet grace, a self-possessed modesty in the appearance of Mrs. Mowatt, which silences the voices of those who would pronounce her pursuit unfeminine; she never seems to seek or expect applause; indeed the very modesty of her appearance, and her abandonment to her subjects, are calculated to impress the audience with a fear of disturbing her with clamorous applause. The chief defect in the evening’s performance, was a hurried and careless style of reading the introductory remarks, which are in themselves worth hearing; and we hope that Mrs. Mowatt’s own taste will suggest to her the propriety, on her next appearance, or dwelling a little longer on her comments, and reading them in a tone which, at least, is audible to the audience. 23
After these readings, Mowatt became ill again and had to cancel the rest of her scheduled engagements. This illness spelled an end to her career as a public reader. Years later, after she became an actress, Mowatt reported that sometimes when she was on tour with her acting partner E.L. Davenport, she would give recitations. When invited to do so in cities too new, too small, or too conservative to support a theatre, Davenport and Mowatt would put together a non-theatrical evening’s entertainment. Typically these programs would consist of Davenport singing popular ballads and Mowatt performing poems such as Epes Sargent’s “The Missing Ship” and other audience favorites. The actress greatly favored acting over reciting, though, reporting;
In Columbus we devoted another night, and another in Montgomery, to readings, intermingled with Mr. Davenport's ballad singing. I greatly preferred the theatre to the lecture room, and resolutely refused all solicitation to give a course of readings. In the lecture room I missed the friendly footlights, which form a barrier between the real and the ideal. I longed for the illusion — the self-forgetfulness. On the stage I was somebody else — in the lecture room I could not rise out of myself. 24
Despite her lack of enthusiasm for the art, after her retirement from the stage, Mowatt gave readings as part of her fund raising efforts for the Mt. Vernon Society.
Mowatt did not rest on her laurels as an elocutionist, but continued to refine her vocal technique throughout her career. She was tutored for many years by John William Stanhope Hows, drama critic for the Albion, and Professor of Elocution at Columbia. Her skill led to critical triumphs in roles packed with dense, difficult language such as Thomas Talford’s “Ion” and John Oxenford’s “Ariadne.”
Conclusion
Although extremely brief in duration, Anna Cora Mowatt’s career as a public reader was one of the most significant career choices in her lifetime. Her experiences as a performer connected her to individuals who would open pathways for her literary and acting careers. Her prowess at fine elocution was one of the charming characteristics Mowatt brought to the stage that would put her in the top tier of performers of her day.
Public reading is a Victoria-era art form that we have lost much of the context to be able to appreciate today. While not universal, the ability to read is now so general that I don’t think we can any longer experience the same sense of urgency many Victorian-era opinion leaders in the U.S. connected to the need to encourage enthusiasm for literacy in the general population. In the young nation, public readings were not just a form of entertainment. In the minds of many of its advocates, this art form was a type of cultural outreach project meant to instill a love of reading and stimulate greater intellectual curiosity. These recitals were way of democratizing learning.
Today we may find many problems with the ways in which those opinion leaders of the 1800s defined culture and literature. However, for a young American woman like Anna Cora Mowatt to have the courage to stand up in public and perform the important task of disseminating culture and knowledge to the masses while attempting to display as much poise and skill as a British man like John Vandenhoff still must stand as a fairly audacious act.
According to my research, Mowatt was not the very first woman in the U.S. to become a public reader as some of her biographers have claimed. She was among the very early, though. Although brief, the amount of publicity and serious critical note paid to her tour of performances seemed to help encourage other women to follow her lead. In her autobiography, Mowatt reports;
My success gave rise to a host of lady imitators, one of whom announced “Readings and Recitations in the Style of Mrs. Mowatt." I was rather curious to get an idea of my own style, and, had my health permitted, would have gone some distance to have seen it illustrated. At one time there were no less than six advertisements in the papers, of ladies giving readings in different parts of the Union. 25
Just as she had served as an advocate for theatre reform during her career as an actress, Mowatt’s presence in the recital hall as a young woman of unimpeachable character from a wealthy family lent a stamp of respectability to her foray into this field of entertainment. Still, I think Mowatt’s career as a public reader was too brief to have been remembered had she not later become a well-known actress and wrote a best-selling autobiography.
Mowatt did not devote a whole chapter to writing about her experiences as a public reader because she counted the experience as one of her great successes, though. She did not foresee that on some later day writers like David Thompson and John Gentile would cite her dozen performances as a significant contribution to U.S. Performance History.
No. Not at all.
In addition to all the glowing reviews, praise, good publicity, and worshipful imitators who would journey down the trail she blazed, there was also a rather cruel backlash to Anna Cora Mowatt’s step on to the recital hall stage. In reaction to her daring to venture outside the boundaries of what was considered appropriate public behavior for her gender and position in society, there were negative critiques from reviewers, nasty speculations about her motivations, hurtful snubs, and painful rejections from friends and family. The harshness of this combined public and private negative reaction would plunge Mowatt into a physical decline and mental health crisis that eventually led to her emersion in the strange and chaotic world of mesmerism.
We start this painful leg of her journey next time!
Notes:
Thompson, David. “Early Actress-Readers: Mowatt, Kemble, and Cushman.” Performance of Literature in Historical Perspective. David Thompson, ed. (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1983.) Page 633.
Gentile, John Samuel. Cast of One: One-Person Shows from the Chautauqua platform to the Broadway Stage. (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1989.) Pages 26-27
Ibid, 30.
Thompson, David. “Early Actress-Readers: Mowatt, Kemble, and Cushman.” Performance of Literature in Historical Perspective. David Thompson, ed. (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1983.) Page 632.
Boston Evening Transcript, Oct. 27, 1841
Boston Courier, Oct. 28, 1841.
“Mrs. Mowatt’s Elocutionary Recitations.” Daily Atlas, Oct. 28, 1841
Mowatt, Anna Cora. Autobiography of an Actress; or Eight Years on the Stage. (Ticknor, Reed, and Field: Boston, 1854.) Page 149-150.
“All Sorts of Paragraphs.” Boston Post. Friday, Oct. 29, 1841.
Boston Evening Transcript. Oct. 29, 1841.
“Readings and Recitations – By a Lady.” Newark Daily Advertiser. November 1, 1841. Page 2.
Mowatt, page 148.
“Recitations by a Lady.” Alexandria Gazette. Nov. 5, 1841.
Daily Atlas. Oct. 30. Page 2.
Daily Atlas. Nov. 4. Page 2.
A. “Elocution: Mrs. A.C. Mowatt.” The Boston Traveler. Nov. 2, 1841. Page 3.
Mowatt, page 151.
North American. Nov. 13. Page 2.
Mowatt, pages 152-153.
Brooklyn Evening Star. Nov. 8, 1841, Page 2, Col. 4.
“Mrs. Mowatt’s Readings.” New York Morning Express. Dec. 8. Page 3.
Mowatt, page 153.
“Mrs. Mowatt’s Readings.” Evening Post. Jan. 13, 1842. Page 2.
Mowatt, pages 255-256.
Ibid, 157.
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