R530430A. Colombe’s Birthday.
The Athenæum, 30 April 1853, p. 537.
As reprinted in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 19, 383–384.
Haymarket.—The production of Mr. Browning’s “Colombe’s Birthday” as an acting drama is, in a literary point of view, an incident of considerable interest. To our readers a detail of the plot is needless, and their estimate of the poem was long since formed. Miss Faucit seems to have chosen the character of the heroine as one which she deemed peculiarly fitted to make a favourite impression on her re-appearance before a London public. Colombe, the Duchess of Juliers and Cleves, is one of those delicate creations which the histrionic genius of this actress best delights to embody. We have in her, first of all, the undeveloped woman, made a state-puppet,—who, not of her own seeking, but for the interests and by the agency of others, is placed in a responsible position, on which the happiness of the many is dependent. She is a reigning Duchess,—but her right is liable to be questioned under the Salique law. It is accordingly questioned:—Prince Berthold puts in his claim, sanctioned by the European powers—a man in the fair way of further becoming an emperor. The consequent situation of the Duchess excites even the compassion of her selfish and cowardly courtiers,—who foist upon a poor Advocate of Cleves, Valence (Mr. Barry Sullivan), the fatal document containing Berthold’s claims, which they tremble to present themselves. At this moment a sense of her responsibility in the office which she is summoned to surrender for the first time, is forced upon the Duchess. The Advocate presents the wrongs and sufferings of Cleves in a petition;—wrongs and sufferings of which, in the security of her power and happiness, she had not even dreamed. Gladly would the hitherto unsuspected burthen of office be at once laid down by the saddened lady,—but then the wrongs and sufferings in question might be increased under the stern, manly despotism of Berthold. Cleves desires the sway of a tender and compassionate woman, well disposed to do right when the way is pointed out. Moved by these considerations, the beautiful, royally descended, and now patriotic Duchess resolves to maintain the power which she has been permitted to usurp. But a new difficulty arises. Prince Berthold is generous to the point of chivalry. Aware of the virtues of the lady, he is willing to sink his territorial claims,—and, by the offer of his hand, invests her with the possibility of becoming an empress. Here all difficulty would end. It is an honourable compromise, which Colombe would not have been indisposed to accept:—but a few hours have changed the character of her feelings and the destiny of her life. Valence has resisted the pusillanimity of the court,—stood by her when all were falling away,—become her “counsellor, guide, philosopher and friend:”—she discovers that he loves her,—discovers, too, that she loves him. A mental struggle—a moral conflict—takes place in both. The beautiful scene in the fourth act expressive of this was as beautifully interpreted by Miss Faucit. At the end, the Duchess finds herself in a metaphysical dilemma. What she had taken for loyalty and patriotism in Valence, was, then, love! Strange, that nothing should be what it calls itself! For those qualities, she had admired him,—not for this. The solution of the problem stands over for the fifth act. The heart decides it. Generous as Berthold proves himself to be, he does not love the Duchess,—at least, not as now she has come to understand the passion:—Valence does. Therefore, for Valence she resigns her duchy to the Prince:—who, admiring her conduct, confesses the completeness of the triumph of love, though in his own rough but honest nature he finds little, as he acknowledges, to enable him satisfactorily to understand it. Thus ends the play.
Such is the refined action of this charming poem, rather than drama. Its movements, for the most part, occur in the chambers of the mind. Such themes are evidently not of the usual stage-sort, and will fail of attraction to all who insist on the ordinary dramatic motion and action. To the worn-out and wearied playgoer, who can turn for a moment out of the beaten path, nothing could well be more delicious. The involuntary tear was often felt upon the cheek. We feared that on performance, this fine poem would scarcely be intelligible to a mixed audience. Miss Faucit, however, by her skill, made them perfectly understand it; and the applause came in the proper places. That the performance will become popular, it is not for the critic to determine,—but we can record its apparent perfect success on the first night. Whether the taste of the public for so refined a creation on the stage is yet formed, remains to be seen.
[John Abraham Heraud]
Reviewed:
Colombe’s Birthday (RB), performance, London, 25 April 1853.
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