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Lord Byron: Six Plays
Although known primarily for his poetry, Lord Byron (1788-1824) also had a keen interest in the theatre and wrote a number of verse dramas, mostly during his Italian exile. While these plays went largely unnoticed during Byron's lifetime, they have since been recognized by critics for their sublime poetic and dramatic qualities. This collection brings together six of Byron's finest Manfred, Cain, Heaven and Earth, Marino Faliero, Sardanapalus, and The Two Foscari.
- GenresPlays
512 pages, Paperback
First published June 17, 2007
About the author
Lord Byron
4,460 books2,172 followersGeorge Gordon Byron (invariably known as Lord Byron), later Noel, 6th Baron Byron of Rochdale FRS was a British poet and a leading figure in Romanticism. Amongst Byron's best-known works are the brief poems She Walks in Beauty, When We Two Parted, and So, we'll go no more a roving, in addition to the narrative poems Childe Harold's Pilgrimage and Don Juan. He is regarded as one of the greatest British poets and remains widely read and influential, both in the English-speaking world and beyond.
Byron's notabilty rests not only on his writings but also on his life, which featured upper-class living, numerous love affairs, debts, and separation. He was notably described by Lady Caroline Lamb as "mad, bad, and dangerous to know". Byron served as a regional leader of Italy's revolutionary organization, the Carbonari, in its struggle against Austria. He later travelled to fight against the Ottoman Empire in the Greek War of Independence, for which Greeks revere him as a national hero. He died from a fever contracted while in Messolonghi in Greece.
Byron's notabilty rests not only on his writings but also on his life, which featured upper-class living, numerous love affairs, debts, and separation. He was notably described by Lady Caroline Lamb as "mad, bad, and dangerous to know". Byron served as a regional leader of Italy's revolutionary organization, the Carbonari, in its struggle against Austria. He later travelled to fight against the Ottoman Empire in the Greek War of Independence, for which Greeks revere him as a national hero. He died from a fever contracted while in Messolonghi in Greece.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
July 28, 2013
As writers today are known to dabble in movie scripts, poets of the past would venture into the theater. (The lure of Shakespeare was too much to resist.) It represented good money, and a level of fame/adoration they’d never know by their books alone. (Byron had more infamy than fame.)
Tennyson’s dramatic attempts were for the most part regrettable. Shelley and Coleridge had some success, Wordsworth not so much.
Over the centuries, Byron has earned much praise for the dramatic and theatrical quality of his works. He wrote a wide range of works, from the more experiment Manfred, to more traditionally constructed plays like Sardanapalus.
One wouldn’t think to call any of these poets the greatest English playwrights of their time (especially since few of their plays were ever staged), but considering the competition and the debased nature of the theatre at the time, an argument could be made. And Byron being the best of the lot, is he then the best English playwright of the early 19th century?
Here are the works as I re-read them.
Manfred *** – When published in 1816, Byron’s Manfred was much admired (when, as with everything Byron did, it did not shock). But it’s a rather static piece of art. There is no action. Manfred goes from one place to another to complain how miserable his life is as an all-powerful magician/sorcerer/magi, cursed with immortality. (It must be tough.)
There’s also no character development – at least not in the traditional sense. Manfred’s opinions about suicide vary. Defiance is probably his singular – and most appealing – trait.
And what is the back story? We never know, though most people believe Manfred (a magician?) had a relationship (physical? spiritual?) with his sister(?), Astarte, in which they may have not known they were related(?), though she is described as the feminine version of him (his twin?). Oh, and Astarte died in some unknown way(?) for some unknown cause (?).
I can confidently report that you won’t be better informed about any these things after finishing the play.
The question is: Does Byron even know the answers to these questions? Does this all even make sense on any level? Even to him? Or is he just making things up as he goes. We don’t know. Even today.
So, there is fuzziness to this work. It does contain some good descriptions of the human experience, and Manfred’s Faust-like Promethean defiance is sure to please the rebel-against-god in all of us. (Well, most of us. Some of us?) (11/17)
Cain: A Mystery *** – In Byron’s play, Cain struggles with his mortality and the ephemeral quality of life. Unlike his family who can accept god’s omnipotence and goodness, he possesses a contrariness and pride that makes him unable to accept the stock answers. Yet when shown the “truth” of life by Lucifer, he finds the knowledge does not fill the need he has. Instead it makes life seem even less, and so agitates him that he strikes out at Abel killing him.
Byron brilliantly presents the murder of Abel in a convincing way that yet presents Cain in a sympathetic light. (As much as possible.) While the end of the play is very good, much of the first three-quarters is a philosophical discussion. It’s still interesting, but the drama is less than gripping. (04/15)
Sardanapalus **** – By far, the best of Byron’s dramas. The play, though far from great, is saved by Byron’s wonderful creation of Sardanapalus. Salemenes has some depth that rises above the other flat characters. But Sardanapalus …
Byron wonderfully presents Sardanapalus’ desire to live in the moment, in peace and harmony, to avoid bloody conflict and the practice of cruel tyranny. There’s obviously a parallel here to Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra. Shakespeare’s flawed play is unable to affirm the love between the two leaders – he’s intent on showing their flaws, especially Cleopatra’s. That’s too bad. It could have been a love story greater than Romeo and Juliet.
But this play does not come close to the sublimity of Shakespeare’s. Yet Sardanapalus has a magic, a quality that is lights up the drama. (11/17)
Two Foscari ** – By the time Byron finished this play, he had written a number of dramatic works. While his worked improved in their structure and design, this play fails in its characterizations.
The Younger Foscari is flat. His motivation seems to be: “What? You dare think me a traitor? Ha! For that, I’ll do something incredibly stupid that will definitely make everyone think I’m a traitor. Take that!” And then he goes through numerous tortures, including the rack, so that he can do a lot of heroic posturing and swooning. (Lots of swooning.)
The Elder Foscari is a little better developed. He has a surprising lack of compassion for anyone, not just his son. But that’s not really surprising when you look around the world. There are a lot of parents that would sacrifice their child for power. But Byron tries to have it both ways – making the Elder Foscari sympathetic by professing love/feelings for his son while presiding over his torture. It gets kind of wishy washy. (Of course, Young Foscari has about the same pittance of concern for his children. Runs in the family.)
I think it would have been better (i.e., more interesting) if Bryon presented the Elder Fosciari as a more of a selfish monster, willing to sacrifice his son. (As Guttman says in the Maltese Falcon, “You can find another son. But there’s only one Maltese Falcon.”) This could have deepened Young Foscari’s character, struggling to love a father that does not love him. Perhaps this all could have been presented as his way of demanding his father’s attention.
But that’s not this play.
What we have in this play is a two-dimensional cartoonish villain with all the motivational depth of Snidely Whiplash. Loredano’s melodramatic criminality is criminal.
Marina is the only rational, well created character, but when she’s on stage I have the feeling of a sane person talking to abject lunatics. It’s frustrating to watch her frustration as she talks to a bunch of boneheads.
This play is for Byron completists only. If you want a taste of Byron’s dramatic work, skip this and start with Manfred or Sardanapalus. (11/17)
Tennyson’s dramatic attempts were for the most part regrettable. Shelley and Coleridge had some success, Wordsworth not so much.
Over the centuries, Byron has earned much praise for the dramatic and theatrical quality of his works. He wrote a wide range of works, from the more experiment Manfred, to more traditionally constructed plays like Sardanapalus.
One wouldn’t think to call any of these poets the greatest English playwrights of their time (especially since few of their plays were ever staged), but considering the competition and the debased nature of the theatre at the time, an argument could be made. And Byron being the best of the lot, is he then the best English playwright of the early 19th century?
Here are the works as I re-read them.
Manfred *** – When published in 1816, Byron’s Manfred was much admired (when, as with everything Byron did, it did not shock). But it’s a rather static piece of art. There is no action. Manfred goes from one place to another to complain how miserable his life is as an all-powerful magician/sorcerer/magi, cursed with immortality. (It must be tough.)
There’s also no character development – at least not in the traditional sense. Manfred’s opinions about suicide vary. Defiance is probably his singular – and most appealing – trait.
And what is the back story? We never know, though most people believe Manfred (a magician?) had a relationship (physical? spiritual?) with his sister(?), Astarte, in which they may have not known they were related(?), though she is described as the feminine version of him (his twin?). Oh, and Astarte died in some unknown way(?) for some unknown cause (?).
I can confidently report that you won’t be better informed about any these things after finishing the play.
The question is: Does Byron even know the answers to these questions? Does this all even make sense on any level? Even to him? Or is he just making things up as he goes. We don’t know. Even today.
So, there is fuzziness to this work. It does contain some good descriptions of the human experience, and Manfred’s Faust-like Promethean defiance is sure to please the rebel-against-god in all of us. (Well, most of us. Some of us?) (11/17)
Cain: A Mystery *** – In Byron’s play, Cain struggles with his mortality and the ephemeral quality of life. Unlike his family who can accept god’s omnipotence and goodness, he possesses a contrariness and pride that makes him unable to accept the stock answers. Yet when shown the “truth” of life by Lucifer, he finds the knowledge does not fill the need he has. Instead it makes life seem even less, and so agitates him that he strikes out at Abel killing him.
Byron brilliantly presents the murder of Abel in a convincing way that yet presents Cain in a sympathetic light. (As much as possible.) While the end of the play is very good, much of the first three-quarters is a philosophical discussion. It’s still interesting, but the drama is less than gripping. (04/15)
Sardanapalus **** – By far, the best of Byron’s dramas. The play, though far from great, is saved by Byron’s wonderful creation of Sardanapalus. Salemenes has some depth that rises above the other flat characters. But Sardanapalus …
Byron wonderfully presents Sardanapalus’ desire to live in the moment, in peace and harmony, to avoid bloody conflict and the practice of cruel tyranny. There’s obviously a parallel here to Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra. Shakespeare’s flawed play is unable to affirm the love between the two leaders – he’s intent on showing their flaws, especially Cleopatra’s. That’s too bad. It could have been a love story greater than Romeo and Juliet.
But this play does not come close to the sublimity of Shakespeare’s. Yet Sardanapalus has a magic, a quality that is lights up the drama. (11/17)
Two Foscari ** – By the time Byron finished this play, he had written a number of dramatic works. While his worked improved in their structure and design, this play fails in its characterizations.
The Younger Foscari is flat. His motivation seems to be: “What? You dare think me a traitor? Ha! For that, I’ll do something incredibly stupid that will definitely make everyone think I’m a traitor. Take that!” And then he goes through numerous tortures, including the rack, so that he can do a lot of heroic posturing and swooning. (Lots of swooning.)
The Elder Foscari is a little better developed. He has a surprising lack of compassion for anyone, not just his son. But that’s not really surprising when you look around the world. There are a lot of parents that would sacrifice their child for power. But Byron tries to have it both ways – making the Elder Foscari sympathetic by professing love/feelings for his son while presiding over his torture. It gets kind of wishy washy. (Of course, Young Foscari has about the same pittance of concern for his children. Runs in the family.)
I think it would have been better (i.e., more interesting) if Bryon presented the Elder Fosciari as a more of a selfish monster, willing to sacrifice his son. (As Guttman says in the Maltese Falcon, “You can find another son. But there’s only one Maltese Falcon.”) This could have deepened Young Foscari’s character, struggling to love a father that does not love him. Perhaps this all could have been presented as his way of demanding his father’s attention.
But that’s not this play.
What we have in this play is a two-dimensional cartoonish villain with all the motivational depth of Snidely Whiplash. Loredano’s melodramatic criminality is criminal.
Marina is the only rational, well created character, but when she’s on stage I have the feeling of a sane person talking to abject lunatics. It’s frustrating to watch her frustration as she talks to a bunch of boneheads.
This play is for Byron completists only. If you want a taste of Byron’s dramatic work, skip this and start with Manfred or Sardanapalus. (11/17)
December 4, 2021
Ratings by individual plays:
Manfred - 3 stars
Cain - 5 stars
(A masterpiece. If you read only one play by Byron, read this.)
Heaven and Earth - 4 stars
Marino Faliero: The Doge of Venice
- 4 stars
Sardanapalus - 4.5 stars
The Two Foscari - 4 stars
Manfred - 3 stars
Cain - 5 stars
(A masterpiece. If you read only one play by Byron, read this.)
Heaven and Earth - 4 stars
Marino Faliero: The Doge of Venice
- 4 stars
Sardanapalus - 4.5 stars
The Two Foscari - 4 stars
February 1, 2011
For Byron lovers this is a most welcome publication as it bundles six of his best known dramas - Manfred, Heaven and Earth, Marino Faliero and the late plays Cain, Sardanapulus and The Two Foscari. It's a handsomely produced volume, with a tasteful cover image, and the text is most clearly printed on a nice stock of paper. However, a real alternative to the scholarly edition published in the early 1990s by Clarendon Press (Oxford University Press) it is not. There are no notes at all and each of the plays is prefaced only by a short, 2-3 page introduction of uncertain origin. However, as the Clarendon edition has been so difficult to get hold of (and is so expensive to boot) this edition certainly fills a gap.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews