After Charlotte’s death, the American public turned away from Shakespeare. Charlotte’s genius made Shakespeare come alive for her audience, but on her death critics doubted “whether any amount of histrionic art or genius [would] be sufficient to keep Shakespeare always on the stage.” Americans were more focused on work and individual success. They worked longer hours and were more exhausted during their leisure time. They wanted entertainment that asked less of them. Shakespeare gradually receded, “from congregated crowds to solitary and individual readers; more and more he becomes to thoughtful minds the POET and less and less the PLAYER.” The winged communication made possible by the telegraph and popular presses also provided new opportunities for entertainment and distraction, while industrialization and longer workweeks meant less time to cram that entertainment into. Before long, Americans were more likely to encounter the Bard at a university than in the theatre.
For nearly a century, the trend toward reading rather than performing Shakespeare continued, doing no good to Shakespeare, who became associated with high culture and was avoided as a difficult text. Once a popular entertainment, now Shakespeare became canonized, and academics could make a living providing an exegesis of his work, making Shakespeare scholars into a kind of priesthood.
But somewhere around the 1960s the trend began to reverse. Shakespeare festivals began to proliferate across the country. Many were free, and all offered affordable ways for working-class Americans to see Shakespeare onstage. Americans have always been Shakespearean, and Shakespeare came to America in the first settlers’ saddlebags. The love affair was rekindled, and by the 400th anniversary of the Bard’s birth there were more Shakespeare festivals in America than anywhere else in the world.
Charlotte’s legacy is present, though invisible, in every one of these performances. She was the first to prove that an American could interpret Shakespeare onstage. She resurrected the original text of Romeo and Juliet, and her interpretations of many of Shakespeare’s characters survive today. She inspired generations of women to wear the breeches, on- and offstage.
It’s springtime in New York, and the Angel’s wings are covered in dogwood blooms. Swan boats float by on the lake, while tourists underdressed for the chill take photographs of themselves standing in front of The Angel of the Waters. The Bethesda Fountain was unveiled in the spring of 1873 in front of a large crowd. Some critics complained the Angel did not look womanly enough, her strong thighs and broad shoulders making her look like a servant girl “jumping over stepping stones,” with “a distinctly male head,” others found the overall impression a confusing mix of male and female. But the audience adored the statue, as they had its inspiration. It remains a secret memorial to the Greatest American Actress.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my parents, Niko and Michael, for their inspiration, love, and support and for giving me early access to art of all kinds, including taking me to Shakespeare festivals from a young age. Thank you to my sister, Carla, a true artist and my first friend. To other courageous women in my family: my grandmothers, Sarah and Signe; my aunts, Ann and Annie. My love, Alexander Landfair, for being married to this book as well as to me, and for being a caring partner and coparent who moved mountains (and toddlers) so I could have time to write. My son, Rowan, for his humor, sensitivity, and hunger for stories. My family-in-law Barbara, James, and David Landfair and Matt Taylor-Gross. My dear friends and writing companions Rachel Riederer, Meaghan Winter, Abigail Rabinowitz, Maggie Sowell, Julie Cohen, and Belinda Mckeon for their wisdom, levity, and encouragement. Thank you to my wonderful agent, Kiele Raymond, and amazing editor, Julianna Haubner, for believing in Charlotte. Thank you also to the team at Avid Reader, in particular Alexandra Pirimani, Allie Lawrence, and Morgan Hoit.
Thank you to Nicole Wallack, Sue Mendelsohn, Kristine Dahl, Patricia O’Toole, Aaron Ritzenberg, Glenn Gordon, and Bridget Potter for their friendship and generosity; their ongoing support and advice have been essential to this book. Thank you to Stacy Shiff, Margo Jefferson, Richard Locke, Arthur Phillips, Katherine Rowland, Amy Brady, Joel Whitney, Michael Archer, and the late Michael Janeway. To James Shapiro for many conversations about American Shakespeare and for being an early supporter of this book. To Jane Ackermann for excellent research assistance and providing loving childcare so I could bang my head against this manuscript. Thank you to the amazing people at Tin House who have nurtured so many writers: Holly MacArthur, Rob Spillman, Elissa Schappell, Michelle Wildgen, Win McCormack, and others. Thank you also to Andi Winette at The Believer, Michelle Legro at Lapham’s Quarterly, Michael Knight at the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation, and the Global Scholars Institute at NYU.
Thank you to my Guernica family and to my colleagues at Columbia and NYU. To my teachers in and out of school: Art Lande, Jack Collum, Isolde Stewart, Kay Cook, Doug Berger, Stephen Weeks, Mike Parker, and John Zola. Thank you to my students, who have so many stories of their own to tell.
To Amy Thomas, Jennifer Heath, EJ Meade, and Frank and Viki Solomon for opening their homes to me during the writing of this book. To Paul Prescott and Paul Edmondson at the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust for inviting me along on their Great American Shakespeare Road Trip. The following people helped during critical
