R530426C. Colombe’s Birthday.
The Times, 26 April 1853, p. 6.
As reprinted in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 19, 382.
Haymarket Theatre.—Last night witnessed the transfer from the closet to the stage of Colombe’s Birthday, a play published some years since by Mr. Robert Browning, among his collected poems.
Familiar as the play probably is to the admirers of a certain school of poetry, of which Mr. Browning is one of the acknowledged chiefs, we can scarcely suppose that the more mixed throng who take interest in the vicissitudes of our theatres are so intimate with the fortunes of Colombe as to render a brief description of the plot superfluous. Colombe, then, is the Duchess of Juliers and Cleves, in the early part of the 17th century, and the action of the piece in which she figures takes place on her birthday. Her courtiers, however, while they design to put on their holyday faces are greatly affected by an ugly document, which declares that Prince Berthold has come, with the sanction of the chief Powers of Europe, to unseat their lovely mistress. They are puzzled as to who shall present the unwelcome paper, when Valence, a young advocate, sent up with a petition to the Duchess from the distressed citizens of Cleves, forces his way into the palace, and is permitted by the courtiers to have an audience with the Duchess, provided he will present a paper, which they put into his hands, and which is neither more nor less than Berthold’s declaration. The young Princess, who is one of those amiable creatures—familiar to poets—who can scarcely comprehend that any one should be unhappy under their rule, is much grieved to hear of the miseries of her good citizens of Cleves, and when she hears of their loyalty, and of the encroachment of Berthold, she makes up her mind that she will remain Duchess of Cleves on the strength of the people’s love, although the other part of the dominion may slip away from her. From these antecedents it might be supposed that Prince Berthold would come in as a sort of ogre—a reckless devourer of innocence and disturber of happiness; but no supposition could be further from the truth. Prince Berthold has even justice on his side; there is not the slightest doubt that by the Salic law he is the rightful Duke of Cleves and Juliers; but not satisfied with these advantages, coupled with the further advantage of superior form, he gallantly resolves to settle matters amicably by marrying the Duchess, though at the same time he owns, somewhat less gallantly, that love, in the strong sense of the word, has but little to do with this proceeding. The Duchess has, however, fallen in love with the eloquent young advocate of Cleves, and the young advocate has fallen in love with the Duchess, and this love is not without unpleasant accompaniments, for the courtiers are willing to ascribe to interested motives the generous devotion of the representative of Cleves to their tottering liege. After much balance of feeling, the lady, resigning her duchy, bestows her hand on the advocate, while the Prince, who is a good-natured personage, smiles on her union and puts the duchy into his pocket.
Having briefly told the story, we now express an opinion that there is scarcely a poem less fitted for stage representation than Colombe’s Birthday. Though it contains several passages of beauty, it likewise contains many passages of singular obscurity, which require much more attentive study than can be given by the audience of a theatre—indeed, more than many a reader in his library would care to bestow. This is, however, a defect which might easily be counterbalanced by much action or by much passion, for if a situation be in itself interesting, and one of the personages be supposed under the influence of strong emotions, he may puff forth whole clouds of obscurity, the wholesome purport of which many a one will take for granted. But there is no such thing as action or passion in Colombe’s Birthday; the characters discuss their feelings instead of being inspired by them, and are so enamoured of their own talk that they have but little opportunity for doing. With the effect which the work might produce on a careful student in his closet we have here nothing to do, though we are sure that even then it would have an aspect the reverse of dramatic. Produced on the stage it is frigid and dull beyond measure.
Nevertheless everything has been done for it by the manager. It has been used for the occasion of Miss H. Faucit’s debût, and the few passages that made an impression evidently owed their good fortune to the force with which she delivered them. Moreover, the scenery was exceedingly beautiful and appropriate. But the play is far too passionless to afford any great opportunity to the actor, and far too uninteresting for any decoration to render palatable.
We must record the fact that there were all the usual appearances of success, and that, after one universal call for Miss Faucit, a cry—certainly far less enthusiastic—was raised for the author, who, as Barry Sullivan informed us, was not in London. But honours of this sort are by no means sure prognostics of a “run.”
Reviewed:
Colombe’s Birthday (RB), performance, London, 25 April 1853.
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