Haworth
Parsonage - The Crucible Of Genius According to Noel
Robinson’s new play, presented by the Cambridge Theatre Company,
the Bronte family’s 19th-century home at Haworth in
Yorkshire wasn’t so much a parsonage as a cauldron.
Out of this cauldron
came a series of novels, written by the three sisters,
Charlotte, Emily and Anne, that are revered to this day for the
insight they give into a society that straight-jacketed everyday
emotions and ambitions.
And now, out of the
authentic drama that lay behind the scenes, comes a play which,
dramatically speaking, exposes the sisters as three witches
whose very frustrations helped to feed their creative ability.
Matriarch
Surrounded by
impotency, in their father, the Rev. Patrick Bronte, now old and
blind, their brother, Branwell, an alcoholic, drug-taking
wastrel, and an ineffectual curate, the Rev. Arthur Nicolls, the
three women show markedly different character traits.
In Frith Banbury’s
distinguished production, Charlotte is the matriarch, wielding
her tongue as the practical head of the household with searing
authority, vividly portrayed in a scorching performance by Anne
Stallybrass.
Emily Bronte, the
middle sister, is played by Angel Down as a character demanding
her right to independence, even if it means a compromise and
therefore a self-sacrifice to the conditions in which she finds
herself.
Dreamer
Anne, the younger
sister, is revealed by Vicky Ireland first as a little grey
mouse, too weak-willed consciously to influence anyone around
her. Curiously, she starts to write first.
But it is the
relentless, self-destructive torment of Branwell, again a very
vivid characterisation by Robert Powell as an increasingly
pathetic, irreligious dreamer, that repeatedly brings these
emotions to the boil.
The performance is
first-class, with John Robinson as Patrick Bronte, John Rowe as
Nicholls and Daphne Heard as Tabby, a cameo role which she
seizes with alacrity.
Bob Ringwood’s setting,
depicting the living-room, hallway and staircase, and kitchen,
leaves no doubt of the claustrophobic atmosphere of a remote
country parsonage.
But the play’s
underlying strength is always Miss Robinson’s astute dialogue
and superb construction, for although the situation and the
characterisations are presumably wholly authentic, the evening
is first dramatically sound.
Branwell claims
worldliness beyond Charlotte’s direct experience, and these two
characters in particular - Charlotte scorning her brother’s
ambitions to become a novelist - strike hard and often to each
other’s weaknesses.
Charlotte nevertheless
galvanises the sisters into a kind of unit of individuals each
capable of giving expression to their frustrations in their
books.
The play realistically
poses the question of whether or not they could have succeeded
without each other, or indeed, against any other background.
Without the contrast of the posturing Branwell, indulged by his
father at every turn, they might even have remained timid,
anonymous parson’s daughters.
Robert Powell and Anne Stallybrass in Glasstown
© Cambridge Evening News
24
April 1973
Drama Of The Bronte's
“Glasstown” by Noel Robinson
received its premiere at the Arts, Cambridge, on April 23, under the firm
direction of Frith Banbury, and presented by the Cambridge Theatre Company in
association with Frith Banbury Ltd. The play treats of nine months in the Bronte
household, a parsonage overflowing with vivid imaginations, dream words, and an
explosive potential for self-destruction, as Glasstown, the magnificent,
splendid world invented by Branwell and his three sisters meets the pressures of
the adult world.
Branwell’s almost
frenetic gaiety is eventually utterly defeated, as he refuses to
accept the truth that the woman he loves does not return his
affections, and he takes refuge in drink. Robert Powell’s
interpretation of this gradual and complete dissolution is
entirely credible and versatile and beautifully paced.
Charlotte, burdened
with a similar unrequited love, her exasperated affection for
her scapegrace brother, her tender care for her nearly blind
father, and her elder-sisterly responsibilities for her sisters,
who, like herself, have literary ambitions, has almost too much
to contend with. Anne Stallybrass responds to the challenge of
her part with a bravery of action and a delicacy of perception.
John Robinson as the
Rev Patrick Bronte, doting on his wastrel son, evokes sympathy,
especially when he is driven to admit his affection for his
deceased wife’s sister. John Rowe, as the curate, the Rev Arthur
Nicholls, brings out his shyness and bumbling benevolence.
Daphne Heard as Tabby, the deaf old retainer, makes an
impressive vignette.
Bob Ringwood’ ingenious
setting evokes the bleak greyness of Haworth Parsonage.
© The Stage and Television
Today
10 May 1973
Glasstown
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