R530501B. Colombe’s Birthday.
The Era, 1 May 1853, p. 10.
As reprinted in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 19, 395–396.
Haymarket.—The lessee of this establishment is scrupulously performing his promise to the public, and has already presented several novelties to his patrons. On Monday a new play, in five acts, was produced, written by Mr. Browning, and entitled, Colombe’s Birth-day. The scene is laid in the Palace of Juliers, then, as now, a Duchy in the Circle of Westphalia, in Germany. Cleves is another Duchy in the same province, and at the period of our play they were subject to an Elector, or Electors Palatine, with the consent of the kings of Prussia and Poland. Both duchies in 1620 had fallen to the lot of Colombe, of Ravestein, who enjoyed the joint titles of Duchess of Juliers and Cleves. With this much of the preliminary, we set out upon our task of description. The first act opens on a Terrace overlooking the Duchy of Juliers, for here it was that the Duchess had fixed her Court, and introduces us to four courtiers with the somewhat unpronounceable names of Guibert, Gaucelme, Maufroy, and Clugnet. They are discussing the affairs of the State and the small talk of the Court, and it appears from their conversation that there is some question about the succession to the Duchy, and the legal rights of Colombe. At all events, whatever her rights be, it is clear that they are disputed, and that they are, in fact, claimed by a powerful rival, Prince Berthold. In the midst of their interesting discussion, Valence arrives. It transpires that the Duchess, in visiting a distant portion of her kingdom, had sojourned at the ancient city of Cleves. Its lovely situation on the Rhine, the picturesque locality of its castle on the hill, and the welcome and devotion from the inhabitants which she met with there, had all left upon her the most agreeable reminiscences of that brief sojourn. But sovereigns, alas! not always know the sufferings which, beneath the surface, may agitate their subjects, and, whilst to Colombe all was light, happy, and serene, the poor spinners and manufacturers of Cleves were, in truth, reduced to the very direst extremities. Valence, then, is recognised by Guibert as a young advocate of Cleves, who had rendered him some most essential service during the brief stay of the Court at that city. He is now charged with a memorial from his distressed townsmen, and it is his duty to urge their grievances upon the attention of their Duchess. The courtiers promise him access to the Duchess, and so ends act the first.
Act the second finds us in the presence chamber, where the Duchess and Sabyne, her attendant, are beguiling the hours with sweet converse. Love is the theme, and the Duchess regrets that she is alone; that though a duchess she is powerless to love whom she will, and she speaks disparagingly of the parasitical character of her Court, whose aim it is to keep her ignorant of the true state of affairs around. At this juncture Valence is introduced, and he proceeds to lay the petition at the feet of the Duchess. Its contents startle, surprise, and wound her. Where she thought all so happy and so fair, she finds misery and suffering; and reflecting upon her helplessness to relieve, she pathetically exclaims of her people—
“Find their love, I could not;
Find their fear, I would not;
Find their like, I never shall.”
She thinks of abdicating her crown, but Valence infuses a higher spirit into the breast of the lovely woman, and, rising with the occasion, she declares—
“For you I will be Duchess yet.”
Act three introduces us to Prince Berthold and Melchior, his confidant, who have arrived at the vestibule of the palace. The Prince has come to claim the duchy; but as the most agreeable mode of settling the affair, he proposes to wed the Duchess. Now, strange to say, although a prince, Berthold is a gentleman, for our author has not thought it necessary to make him one of those persecuting, ill-favoured princes with whom modern dramatists have made us acquainted. It is true he does not love the Duchess, but then he has never seen her. He has his credentials with him, however, and he sets about his task in a most gentlemanly way, ultimately commissioning Valence, who had by this time become her most confidential adviser, to open the negotiation with the lady. This, of course, is a most trying situation for the young advocate, but he performs it faithfully. His eloquence, however, is wasted upon Colombe, and she rejects the proffered suit. This is not the only trial with which poor Valence had to contend. He has been intrusted with the documents relating to the right to the Duchy, and with him rests the decision upon the respective claims of the Duchess and the Prince. He perceives how much depends upon this decision. He appreciates to the fullest extent the consequences to the lady, to the Prince, and to himself, which must result from it. But he appreciates also what is due to honour, and he resolves, come what may, to do justice to the cause. His position is this. If he finds the lady’s title good, she remains Duchess, and he cannot hope to wed her, for it must be told that the young advocate has long nourished a consuming secret love for the fair Colombe. If, on the other hand, he finds her claim to be unfounded, he it will be who degrades her from her high position, and how can he hope that she will have for him any other feeling than hatred and contempt. But he resolves, as we have said, that justice, only justice, shall be done. After devoting himself “heart, brain, body, and soul,” to the study of the documents, he finds that the right rests wholly and entirely with the Prince, and that the Duchess can be so no longer. This he communicates to the Prince. With the fifth act the consummation rapidly approaches. The Prince, again refused by the lady, suspects another lover, and his suspicions fall upon Valence, but he is actuated by no feeling of petty jealousy. He admires the candour, honesty, and spirit of the advocate. He generously resigns his pretensions to the hand as he does not possess the heart of the Duchess, and he magnanimously waives his claim also to the disputed Duchy. Thus it is that the Duchess really owes all to Valence, and long penetrated by his manly bearing, and his honest, open, truthful conduct, she accepts him for her liege.
We have now traced this drama to its close, and it remains for us but to express our unqualified approval of the production. The critics of the daily papers are wrong in describing Colombe’s Birthday as suited for the closet, but not for representation. Conceived, it is true, by an elegant and classic mind, it is yet the production of one not at all unused to stage performances; and to state that it is dull, insipid, lacks interest, is too metaphysical, and incapable of being comprehended by an audience, is unquestionably to state that which is not the fact. It is true, there are no very “thrilling” incidents, no wondrously “startling” events, no “terrific combats,” no villains, no buffoons, no heroine with a couple of pistols in her hand; but there is what is much better—there are true feeling, pure thought, and natural events, mingled with a lofty and ennobling sentiment which dignifies the whole. There are no subtleties of reasoning, as has been alleged, which nobody can understand. Nothing of the sort. All is intelligible and comprehensible. The sympathies of the audience are not kept painfully on the rack, but they are centered with quite sufficient force in Colombe and Valence, and the most lively interest is maintained throughout. Mr. Browning has drunk deep of the Castalian stream, and the drama under review is one of the most cherished offspring of his refined and cultivated mind. It has met with complete success, and when it has overcome the damning of faint praise which the critics have awarded it, it will become a greater favourite still.
Miss Helen Faucit played the heroine with that dignity, grace, and chastity, of which she is the impersonation. We never saw this delightful actress to greater advantage; and as she wore her regal robes, we thought her charming figure more magnificent than ever. Her rendering of the part was perfect, and there is no alteration that we could suggest. Mr. Barry Sullivan enacted the part of Valence with an earnest and impassioned force which consorted with the character of the Advocate. Mr. Howe was more successful than usual as the Prince; Mr. Farren a trifle too flippant as Guibert; and Messrs. Rogers and Tilbury slightly too conventional. But, on the whole, the author has no cause to complain that his play was not well acted. All render their respective parts at least intelligently. The scenery is new and appropriate, but is not of such a character that it is correct to say the piece owes any of its success to that. To state that it is from the brush of Mr. Morris and Mr. O’Connor is to guarantee that it is excellent of its order.
Reviewed:
Colombe’s Birthday (RB), performance, London, 25 April 1853.
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