This must be accepted with qualification. It is like the other general assertion, that Browning had to live fifty years before he gained recognition--a statement as ludicrous when examined as it is unjust to the many discreet2 judges who awarded, publicly and privately3, that intelligent sympathy which is the best sunshine for the flower of a poet's genius. If by "before he gained recognition" is meant a general and indiscriminate acclaim4, no doubt Browning had, still has indeed, longer to wait than many other eminent5 writers have had to do: but it is absurd to assert that from the very outset of his poetic6 career he was met by nothing but neglect, if not scornful derision. None who knows the true artistic7 temperament8 will fall into any such mistake.
It is quite certain that neither Shakspere nor Milton ever met with such enthusiastic praise and welcome as Browning encountered on the publication of "Pauline" and "Paracelsus." Shelley, as far above Browning in poetic music as the author of so many parleyings with other people's souls is the superior in psychic9 insight and intellectual strength, had throughout his too brief life not one such review of praiseful welcome as the Rev10. W.J. Fox wrote on the publication of "Pauline" (or, it may be added, as Allan Cunningham's equally kindly11 but less able review in the Athen?um), or as John Forster wrote in The Examiner concerning "Paracelsus," and later in the New Monthly Magazine, where he had the courage to say of the young and quite unknown poet, "without the slightest hesitation12 we name Mr. Robert Browning at once with Shelley, Coleridge, Wordsworth." His plays even (which are commonly said to have "fallen flat") were certainly not failures. There is something effeminate, undignified, and certainly uncritical, in this confusion as to what is and what is not failure in literature. So enthusiastic was the applause he encountered, indeed, that had his not been too strong a nature to be thwarted13 by adulation any more than by contemptuous neglect, he might well have become spoilt--so enthusiastic, that were it not for the heavy and prolonged counterbalancing dead weight of public indifference14, a huge amorphous15 mass only of late years moulded into harmony with the keenest minds of the century, we might well be suspicious of so much and long-continued eulogium, and fear the same reversal of judgment16 towards him on the part of those who come after us as we ourselves have meted17 to many an one among the high gods of our fathers.
Fortunately the deep humanity of his work in the mass conserves18 it against the mere19 veerings of taste. A reaction against it will inevitably20 come; but this will pass: what, in the future, when the unborn readers of Browning will look back with clear eyes untroubled by the dust of our footsteps, not to subside21 till long after we too are dust, will be the place given to this poet, we know not, nor can more than speculatively22 estimate. That it will, however, be a high one, so far as his weightiest (in bulk, it may possibly be but a relatively23 slender) accomplishment24 is concerned, we may rest well assured: for indeed "It lives, If precious be the soul of man to man."
So far as has been ascertained25 there were only three reviews or notices of "Pauline": the very favourable26 article by Mr. Fox in the Monthly Repository, the kindly paper by Allan Cunningham in the Athen?um, and, in Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, the succinctly28 expressed impression of either an indolent or an incapable29 reviewer: "Pauline; a Fragment of a Confession30; a piece of pure bewilderment"--a "criticism" which anticipated and thus prevented the insertion of a highly favourable review which John Stuart Mill voluntarily wrote.
Browning must have regarded his first book with mingled31 feelings. It was a bid for literary fortune, in one sense, but a bid so handicapped by the circumstances of its publication as to be almost certainly of no avail. Probably, however, he was well content that it should have mere existence. Already the fever of an abnormal intellectual curiosity was upon him: already he had schemed more potent32 and more vital poems: already, even, he had developed towards a more individualistic method. So indifferent was he to an easily gained reputation that he seems to have been really urgent upon his relatives and intimate acquaintances not to betray his authorship. The Miss Flower, how ever, to whom allusion33 has already been made, could not repress her admiration34 to the extent of depriving her friend, Mr. Fox, of a pleasure similar to that she had herself enjoyed. The result was the generous notice in the Monthly Repository. The poet never forgot his indebtedness to Mr. Fox, to whose sympathy and kindness much direct and indirect good is traceable. The friendship then begun was lifelong, and was continued with the distinguished35 Unitarian's family when Mr. Fox himself ended his active and beneficent career.
But after a time the few admirers of "Pauline" forgot to speak about it: the poet himself never alluded36 to it: and in a year or two it was almost as though it had never been written. Many years after, when articles upon Robert Browning were as numerous as they once had been scarce, never a word betrayed that their authors knew of the existence of "Pauline." There was, however, yet another friendship to come out of this book, though not until long after it was practically forgotten by its author.
One day a young poet-painter came upon a copy of the book in the British Museum Library, and was at once captivated by its beauty. One of the earliest admirers of Browning's poetry, Dante Gabriel Rossetti--for it was he--felt certain that "Pauline" could be by none other than the author of "Paracelsus." He himself informed me that he had never heard this authorship suggested, though some one had spoken to him of a poem of remarkable37 promise, called "Pauline," which he ought to read. If I remember aright, Rossetti told me that it was on the forenoon of the day when the "Burden of Nineveh" was begun, conceived rather, that he read this story of a soul by the soul's ablest historian. So delighted was he with it, and so strong his opinion it was by Browning, that he wrote to the poet, then in Florence, for confirmation38, stating at the same time that his admiration for "Pauline" had led him to transcribe39 the whole of it.
Concerning this episode, Robert Browning wrote to me, some seven years ago, as follows:--
"St. Pierre de Chartreuse,
Isère, France.
"Rossetti's 'Pauline' letter was addressed to me at Florence more than thirty years ago. I have preserved it, but, even were I at home, should be unable to find it without troublesome searching. It was to the effect that the writer, personally and altogether unknown to me, had come upon a poem in the British Museum, which he copied the whole of, from its being not otherwise procurable40--that he judged it to be mine, but could not be sure, and wished me to pronounce in the matter--which I did. A year or two after, I had a visit in London from Mr. (William) Allingham and a friend--who proved to be Rossetti. When I heard he was a painter I insisted on calling on him, though he declared he had nothing to show me--which was far enough from the case. Subsequently, on another of my returns to London, he painted my portrait, not, I fancy, in oils, but water-colours, and finished it in Paris shortly after. This must have been in the year when Tennyson published 'Maud,' for I remember Tennyson reading the poem one evening while Rossetti made a rapid pen-and-ink sketch41 of him, very good, from one obscure corner of vantage, which I still possess, and duly value. This was before Rossetti's marriage."[8]
[8] The highly interesting and excellent portrait of Browning here alluded to has never been exhibited.
As a matter of fact, as recorded on the back of the original drawing, the eventful reading took place at 13 Dorset Street, Portman Square, on the 27th of September 1855, and those present, besides the Poet-Laureate, Browning, and Rossetti, were Mrs. E. Barrett Browning and Miss Arabella Barrett.
When, a year or two ago, the poet learned that a copy of his first work, which in 1833 could not find a dozen purchasers at a few shillings, went at a public sale for twenty-five guineas, he remarked that had his dear old aunt been living he could have returned to her, much to her incredulous astonishment42, no doubt, he smilingly averred43, the cost of the book's publication, less ￡3 15s. It was about the time of the publication of "Pauline" that Browning began to see something of the literary and artistic life for which he had such an inborn44 taste. For a brief period he went often to the British Museum, particularly the Library, and to the National Gallery. At the British Museum Reading Room he perused45 with great industry and research those works in philosophy and medical history which are the bases of "Paracelsus," and those Italian Records bearing upon the story of Sordello. Residence in Camberwell, in 1833, rendered night engagements often impracticable: but nevertheless he managed to mix a good deal in congenial society. It is not commonly known that he was familiar to these early associates as a musician and artist rather than as a poet. Among them, and they comprised many well-known workers in the several arts, were Charles Dickens and "Ion" Talfourd. Mr. Fox, whom Browning had met once or twice in his early youth, after the former had been shown the Byronic verses which had in one way gratified and in another way perturbed47 the poet's father, saw something more of his young friend after the publication of "Pauline." He very kindly offered to print in his magazine any short poems the author of that book should see fit to send--an offer, however, which was not put to the test for some time.
Practically simultaneously48 with the publication of "Pauline" appeared another small volume, containing the "Palace of Art," "Oenone," "Mariana," etc. Those early books of Tennyson and Browning have frequently, and somewhat uncritically, been contrasted. Unquestionably, however, the elder poet showed a consummate49 and continuous mastery of his art altogether beyond the intermittent50 expressional power of Browning in his most rhythmic51 emotion at any time of his life. To affirm that there is more intellectual fibre, what Rossetti called fundamental brain-work, in the product of the younger poet, would be beside the mark. The insistence52 on the supremacy53 of Browning over all poets since Shakspere because he has the highest "message" to deliver, because his intellect is the most subtle and comprehensive, because his poems have this or that dynamic effect upon dormant54 or sluggish55 or other active minds, is to be seriously and energetically deprecated. It is with presentment that the artist has, fundamentally, to concern himself. If he cannot present poetically56 then he is not, in effect, a poet, though he may be a poetic thinker, or a great writer. Browning's eminence58 is not because of his detachment from what some one has foolishly called "the mere handiwork, the furnisher's business, of the poet." It is the delight of the true artist that the product of his talent should be wrought59 to a high technique equally by the shaping brain and the dexterous60 hand. Browning is great because of his formative energy: because, despite the excess of burning and compulsive thought--
"Thoughts swarming61 thro' the myriad-chambered brain
Like multitudes of bees i' the innumerous cells,
Each staggering 'neath the undelivered freight ----"
he strikes from the furor62 of words an electric flash so transcendently illuminative63 that what is commonplace becomes radiant with that light which dwells not in nature, but only in the visionary eye of man. Form for the mere beauty of form, is a playing with the wind, the acceptance of a shadow for the substance. If nothing animate64 it, it may possibly be fair of aspect, but only as the frozen smile upon a dead face.
We know little of Browning's inner or outer life in 1833 and 1834. It was a secretive, not a productive period. One by one certain pinnacles65 of his fair snow-mountain of Titanic66 aim melted away. He began to realise the first disenchantment of the artist: the sense of dreams never to be accomplished67. That land of the great unwritten poems, the great unpainted pictures: what a heritance there for the enfranchised68 spirits of great dreamers!
In the autumn of 1833 he went forth69 to his University, that of the world of men and women. It was ever a favourite answer of his, when asked if he had been at either Oxford70 or Cambridge,--"Italy was my University."
But first he went to Russia, and spent some time in St. Petersburg, attracted thither71 by the invitation of a friend. The country interested him, but does not seem to have deeply or permanently72 engaged his attention. That, however, his Russian experiences were not fruitless is manifest from the remarkably73 picturesque74 and technically75 very interesting poem, "Ivàn Ivànovitch" (the fourth of the Dramatic Idyls, 1879). Of a truth, after his own race and country--readers will at once think of "Home Thoughts from the Sea," or the thrilling lines in "Home Thoughts from Abroad," beginning--
"Oh, to be in England,
Now that April's there!"--
or perhaps, those lines in his earliest work--
"I cherish most
My love of England--how, her name, a word
Of hers in a strange tongue makes my heart beat!"
--it was of the mystic Orient or of the glowing South that he oftenest thought and dreamed. With Heine he might have cried: "O Firdusi! O Ischami! O Saadi! How do I long after the roses of Schiraz!" As for Italy, who of all our truest poets has not loved her: but who has worshipped her with so manly76 a passion, so loyal a love, as Browning? One alone indeed may be mated with him here, she who had his heart of hearts, and who lies at rest in the old Florentine cemetery77 within sound of the loved waters of Arno. Who can forget his lines in "De Gustibus," "Open my heart and you will see, graved inside of it, Italy."
It would be no difficult task to devote a volume larger than the present one to the descriptive analysis of none but the poems inspired by Italy, Italian personages and history, Italian Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, and Music. From Porphyria and her lover to Pompilia and all the direful Roman tragedy wherein she is as a moon of beauty above conflicting savage78 tides of passion, what an unparalleled gallery of portraits, what a brilliant phantasmagoria, what a movement of intensest life!
It is pleasant to know of one of them, "The Italian in England," that Browning was proud, because Mazzini told him he had read this poem to certain of his fellow-exiles in England to show how an Englishman could sympathise with them.
After leaving Russia the young poet spent the rest of his Wanderjahr in Italy. Among other places he visited was Asolo, that white little hill-town of the Veneto, whence he drew hints for "Sordello," and "Pippa Passes," and whither he returned in the last year of his life, as with unconscious significance he himself said, "on his way homeward."
In the summer of 1834, that is, when he was in his twenty-second year, he returned to Camberwell. "Sordello" he had in some fashion begun, but had set aside for a poem which occupied him throughout the autumn of 1834 and winter of 1835, "Paracelsus." In this period, also, he wrote some short poems, two of them of particular significance. The first of the series was a sonnet79, which appeared above the signature 'Z' in the August number of the Monthly Repository for 1834. It was never reprinted by the author, whose judgment it is impossible not to approve as well as to respect. Browning never wrote a good sonnet, and this earliest effort is not the most fortunate. It was in the Repository also, in 1835 and 1836, that the other poems appeared, four in all.
The song in "Pippa Passes," beginning "A King lived long ago," was one of these; and the lyric80, "Still ailing81, wind? Wilt82 be appeased83 or no?" afterwards revised and incorporated in "James Lee," was another. But the two which are much the most noteworthy are "Johannes Agricola" and "Porphyria." Even more distinctively85 than in "Pauline," in their novel sentiment, new method, and generally unique quality, is a new voice audible in these two poems. They are very remarkable as the work of so young a poet, and are interesting as showing how rapidly he had outgrown86 the influence of any other of his poetic kindred. "Johannes Agricola" is significant as being the first of those dramatic studies of warped87 religiosity, of strange self-sophistication, which have afforded so much matter for thought. In its dramatic concision88, its complex psychological significance, and its unique, if to unaccustomed ears somewhat barbaric, poetic beauty, "Porphyria" is still more remarkable.
It may be of this time, though possibly some years later, that Mrs. Bridell-Fox writes:--"I remember him as looking in often in the evenings, having just returned from his first visit to Venice. I cannot tell the date for certain. He was full of enthusiasm for that Queen of Cities. He used to illustrate89 his glowing descriptions of its beauties, the palaces, the sunsets, the moonrises, by a most original kind of etching. Taking up a bit of stray notepaper, he would hold it over a lighted candle, moving the paper about gently till it was cloudily smoked over, and then utilising the darker smears90 for clouds, shadows, water, or what not, would etch with a dry pen the forms of lights on cloud and palace, on bridge or gondola91 on the vague and dreamy surface he had produced. My own passionate92 longing93 to see Venice dates from those delightful94, well-remembered evenings of my childhood."
"Paracelsus," begun about the close of October or early in November 1834, was published in the summer of the following year. It is a poem in blank verse, about four times the length of "Pauline," with interspersed95 songs. The author divided it into five sections of unequal length, of which the third is the most extensive: "Paracelsus Aspires"; "Paracelsus Attains96"; "Paracelsus"; "Paracelsus Aspires"; "Paracelsus Attains." In an interesting note, which was not reprinted in later editions of his first acknowledged poem, the author dissuades98 the reader from mistaking his performance for one of a class with which it has nothing in common, from judging it by principles on which it was not moulded, and from subjecting it to a standard to which it was never meant to conform. He then explains that he has composed a dramatic poem, and not a drama in the accepted sense; that he has not set forth the phenomena99 of the mind or the passions by the operation of persons and events, or by recourse to an external machinery100 of incidents to create and evolve the crisis sought to be produced. Instead of this, he remarks, "I have ventured to display somewhat minutely the mood itself in its rise and progress, and have suffered the agency, by which it is influenced and determined101, to be generally discernible in its effects alone, and subordinate throughout, if not altogether excluded: and this for a reason. I have endeavoured to write a poem, not a drama." A little further, he states that a work like "Paracelsus" depends, for its success, immediately upon the intelligence and sympathy of the reader: "Indeed, were my scenes stars, it must be his co-operating fancy which, supplying all chasms102, shall connect the scattered103 lights into one constellation--a Lyre or a Crown."
In the concluding paragraph of this note there is a point of interest--the statement of the author's hope that the readers of "Paracelsus" will not "be prejudiced against other productions which may follow in a more popular, and perhaps less difficult form." From this it might fairly be inferred that Browning had not definitively104 adopted his characteristic method: that he was far from unwilling105 to gain the general ear: and that he was alert to the difficulties of popularisation of poetry written on lines similar to those of "Paracelsus." Nor would this inference be wrong: for, as a matter of fact, the poet, immediately upon the publication of "Paracelsus," determined to devote himself to poetic work which should have so direct a contact with actual life that its appeal should reach even to the most uninitiate in the mysteries and delights of verse.
In his early years Browning had always a great liking106 for walking in the dark. At Camberwell he was wont107 to carry this love to the point of losing many a night's rest. There was, in particular, a wood near Dulwich, whither he was wont to go. There he would walk swiftly and eagerly along the solitary108 and lightless byways, finding a potent stimulus109 to imaginative thought in the happy isolation110 thus enjoyed, with all the concurrent111 delights of natural things, the wind moving like a spirit through the tree-branches, the drifting of poignant112 fragrances113, even in winter-tide, from herb and sappy bark, imperceptible almost by the alertest sense in the day's manifold detachments. At this time, too, he composed much in the open air. This he rarely, if ever, did in later life. Not only many portions of "Paracelsus," but several scenes in "Strafford," were enacted114 first in these midnight silences of the Dulwich woodland. Here, too, as the poet once declared, he came to know the serene115 beauty of dawn: for every now and again, after having read late, or written long, he would steal quietly from the house, and walk till the morning twilight116 graded to the pearl and amber46 of the new day.
As in childhood the glow of distant London had affected117 him to a pleasure that was not without pain, perhaps to a pain rather that was a fine delirium118, so in his early manhood the neighbourhood of the huge city, felt in those midnight walks of his, and apprehended119 more by the transmutive shudder121 of reflected glare thrown fadingly upward against the stars, than by any more direct vision or even far-borne indeterminate hum, dominated his imagination. At that distance, in those circumstances, humanity became more human. And with the thought, the consciousness of this imperative122 kinship, arose the vague desire, the high resolve to be no curious dilettante123 in novel literary experiments, but to compel an interpretative understanding of this complex human environment.
Those who knew the poet intimately are aware of the loving regard he always had for those nocturnal experiences: but perhaps few recognise how much we owe to the subtle influences of that congenial isolation he was wont to enjoy on fortunate occasions.
It is not my intention--it would, obviously, be a futile124 one, if entertained--to attempt an analysis or elaborate criticism of the many poems, long and short, produced by Robert Browning. Not one volume, but several, of this size, would have to be allotted125 to the adequate performance of that end. Moreover, if readers are unable or unwilling to be their own expositors, there are several trustworthy hand-books which are easily procurable. Some one, I believe, has even, with unselfish consideration for the weaker brethren, turned "Sordello" into prose--a superfluous126 task, some scoffers may exclaim. Personally, I cannot but think this craze for the exposition of poetry, this passion for "dissecting127 a rainbow," is harmful to the individual as well as humiliating to the high office of Poetry itself, and not infrequently it is ludicrous.
I must be content with a few words anent the more important or significant poems, and in due course attempt an estimate by a broad synthesis, and not by cumulative128 critical analyses.
In the selection of Paracelsus as the hero of his first mature poem, Browning was guided first of all by his keen sympathy with the scientific spirit--the spirit of dauntless inquiry129, of quenchless130 curiosity, of a searching enthusiasm. Pietro of Abano, Giordano Bruno, Galileo, were heroes whom he regarded with an admiration which would have been boundless131 but for the wise sympathy which enabled him to apprehend120 and understand their weaknesses as well as their lofty qualities. Once having come to the conclusion that Paracelsus was a great and much maligned132 man, it was natural for him to wish to portray133 aright the features he saw looming134 through the mists of legend and history. But over and above this, he half unwittingly, half consciously, felt the fascination135 of that mysticism associated with the name of the celebrated136 German scientist--a mysticism, in all its various phases, of which he is now acknowledged to be the subtlest poetic interpreter in our language, though, profound as its attraction always was for him, never was poet with a more exquisite137 balance of intellectual sanity138.
Latest research has proved that whatsoever139 of a pretender Paracelsus may have been in certain respects, he was unquestionably a man of extraordinary powers: and, as a pioneer in a science of the first magnitude of importance, deserving of high honour. If ever the famous German attain97 a high place in the history of the modern intellectual movement in Europe, it will be primarily due to Browning's championship.
But of course the extent or shallowness of Paracelsus' claim is a matter of quite secondary interest. We are concerned with the poet's presentment of the man--of that strange soul whom he conceived of as having anticipated so far, and as having focussed all the vagrant140 speculations141 of the day into one startling beam of light, now lambently pure, now lurid142 with gross constituents143.[9]
[9] Paracelsus has two particular claims upon our regard. He gave us laudanum, a discovery of incalculable blessing144 to mankind. And from his fourth baptismal name, which he inherited from his father, we have our familiar term, 'bombast145.' Readers interested in the known facts concerning the "master-mind, the thinker, the explorer, the creator," the forerunner146 of Mesmer and even of Darwin and Wallace, who began life with the sounding appellation147 "Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus ab Hohenheim," should consult Browning's own learned appendical note, and Mr. Berdoe's interesting essay in the Browning Society Papers, No. xlix.
Paracelsus, his friends Festus and his wife Michal, and Aprile, an Italian poet, are the characters who are the personal media through which Browning's already powerful genius found expression. The poem is, of a kind, an epic148: the epic of a brave soul striving against baffling circumstance. It is full of passages of rare technical excellence149, as well as of conceptive beauty: so full, indeed, that the sympathetic reader of it as a drama will be too apt to overlook its radical150 shortcomings, cast as it is in the dramatic mould. But it must not be forgotten that Browning himself distinctly stated he had attempted to write "a poem, not a drama": and in the light of this simple statement half the objections that have been made fall to the ground.
Paracelsus is the protagonist151: the others are merely incidental. The poem is the soul-history of the great medical student who began life so brave of aspect and died so miserably152 at Salzburg: but it is also the history of a typical human soul, which can be read without any knowledge of actual particulars.
Aprile is a projection153 of the poet's own poetical57 ideal. He speaks, but he does not live as Festus lives, or even as Michal, who, by the way, is interesting as being the first in the long gallery of Browning's women--a gallery of superbly-drawn154 portraits, of noble and striking and always intensely human women, unparalleled except in Shakspere. Pauline, of course, exists only as an abstraction, and Porphyria is in no exact sense a portrait from the life. Yet Michal can be revealed only to the sympathetic eye, for she is not drawn, but again and again suddenly silhouetted155. We see her in profile always: but when she exclaims at the last, "I ever did believe," we feel that she has withdrawn156 the veil partially157 hiding her fair and generous spirit.
To the lover of poetry "Paracelsus" will always be a Golconda. It has lines and passages of extraordinary power, of a haunting beauty, and of a unique and exquisite charm. It may be noted158, in exemplification of Browning's artistic range, that in the descriptive passages he paints as well in the elaborate Pre-Raphaelite method as with a broad synthetic159 touch: as in
"One old populous160 green wall
Tenanted by the ever-busy flies,
Grey crickets and shy lizards161 and quick spiders,
Each family of the silver-threaded moss--
Which, look through near, this way, and it appears
A stubble-field or a cane-brake, a marsh162
Of bulrush whitening in the sun...."
But oftener he prefers the more succinct27 method of landscape-painting, the broadest impressionism: as in
"Past the high rocks the haunts of doves, the mounds163
Of red earth from whose sides strange trees grow out,
Past tracks of milk-white minute blinding sand."
And where in modern poetry is there a superber union of the scientific and the poetic vision than in this magnificent passage--the quintessence of the poet's conception of the rapture164 of life:--
"The centre-fire heaves underneath165 the earth,
And the earth changes like a human face;
The molten ore bursts up among the rocks,
Winds into the stone's heart, outbranches bright
In hidden mines, spots barren river-beds,
Crumbles166 into fine sand where sunbeams bask--
God joys therein. The wroth sea's waves are edged
With foam167, white as the bitten lip of hate,
When in the solitary waste, strange groups
Of young volcanoes come up, cyclops-like,
Staring together with their eyes on flame--
God tastes a pleasure in their uncouth168 pride.
Then all is still; earth is a wintry clod:
But Spring-wind, like a dancing psaltress, passes
Over its breast to waken it, rare verdure
Buds tenderly upon rough banks, between
The withered169 tree-rests and the cracks of frost,
Like a smile striving with a wrinkled face;
The grass grows bright, the boughs170 are swoln with blooms
Like chrysalids impatient for the air,
The shining dorrs are busy, beetles171 run
Along the furrows172, ants make their ado;
Above, birds fly in merry flocks, the lark173
Soars up and up, shivering for very joy;
Afar the ocean sleeps; white fishing gulls174
Flit where the strand175 is purple with its tribe
Of nested limpets; savage creatures seek
Their loves in wood and plain--and God renews
His ancient rapture."
In these lines, particularly in their close, is manifest the influence of the noble Hebraic poetry. It must have been at this period that Browning conned176 over and over with an exultant177 delight the simple but lordly diction of Isaiah and the other prophets, preferring this Biblical poetry to that even of his beloved Greeks. There is an anecdote178 of his walking across a public park (I am told Richmond, but more probably it was Wimbledon Common) with his hat in his left hand and his right waving to and fro declamatorily, while the wind blew his hair around his head like a nimbus: so rapt in his ecstasy179 over the solemn sweep of the Biblical music that he did not observe a small following consisting of several eager children, expectant of thrilling stump-oratory. He was just the man, however, to accept an anti-climax genially180, and to dismiss his disappointed auditory with something more tangible181 than an address.
The poet-precursor of scientific knowledge is again and again manifest: as, for example, in
"Hints and previsions of which faculties182
Are strewn confusedly everywhere about
The inferior natures, and all lead up higher,
All shape out dimly the superior race,
The heir of hopes too fair to turn out false,
And man appears at last."[10]
[10] Readers interested in Browning's inspiration from, and treatment of, Science, should consult the excellent essay on him as "A Scientific Poet" by Mr. Edward Berdoe, F.R.C.S., and, in particular, compare with the originals the references given by Mr. Berdoe to the numerous passages bearing upon Evolution and the several sciences, from Astronomy to Physiology184.
There are lines, again, which have a magic that cannot be defined. If it be not felt, no sense of it can be conveyed through another's words.
"Whose memories were a solace185 to me oft,
As mountain-baths to wild fowls186 in their flight."
"Ask the gier-eagle why she stoops at once
Into the vast and unexplored abyss,
What full-grown power informs her from the first,
Why she not marvels187, strenuously188 beating
The silent boundless regions of the sky."
There is one passage, beautiful in itself, which has a pathetic significance henceforth. Gordon, our most revered189 hero, was wont to declare that nothing in all nonscriptural literature was so dear to him, nothing had so often inspired him in moments of gloom:--
"I go to prove my soul!
I see my way as birds their trackless way.
I shall arrive! What time, what circuit first,
I ask not: but unless God send His hail
Or blinding fireballs, sleet190 or stifling191 snow,
In some time, His good time, I shall arrive:
He guides me and the bird. In his good time."
As for the much misused192 'Shaksperian' comparison, so often mistakenly applied193 to Browning, there is nothing in "Paracelsus" in the least way derivative194. Because Shakspere is the greatest genius evolved from our race, it does not follow that every lofty intellect, every great objective poet, should be labelled "Shaksperian." But there is a certain quality in poetic expression which we so specify195, because the intense humanity throbbing196 in it finds highest utterance197 in the greatest of our poets: and there is at least one instance of such poignant speech in "Paracelsus," worthy84 almost to be ranked with the last despairing cry of Guido calling upon murdered Pompilia:--
"Festus, strange secrets are let out by death
Who blabs so oft the follies198 of this world:
And I am death's familiar, as you know.
I helped a man to die, some few weeks since,
Warped even from his go-cart to one end--
The living on princes' smiles, reflected from
A mighty199 herd200 of favourites. No mean trick
He left untried, and truly well-nigh wormed
All traces of God's finger out of him:
Then died, grown old. And just an hour before,
Having lain long with blank and soulless eyes,
He sat up suddenly, and with natural voice
Said that in spite of thick air and closed doors
God told him it was June; and he knew well
Without such telling, harebells grew in June;
And all that kings could ever give or take
Would not be precious as those blooms to him."
Technically, I doubt if Browning ever produced any finer long poem, except "Pippa Passes," which is a lyrical drama, and neither exactly a 'play' nor exactly a 'poem' in the conventional usage of the terms. Artistically201, "Paracelsus" is disproportionate, and has faults, obtrusive202 enough to any sensitive ear: but in the main it has a beauty without harshness, a swiftness of thought and speech without tumultuous pressure of ideas or stammering203. It has not, in like degree, the intense human insight of, say, "The Inn Album," but it has that charm of sequent excellence too rarely to be found in many of Browning's later writings. It glides204 onward205 like a steadfast206 stream, the thought moving with the current it animates207 and controls, and throbbing eagerly beneath. When we read certain portions of "Paracelsus," and the lovely lyrics208 interspersed in it, it is difficult not to think of the poet as sometimes, in later life, stooping like the mariner209 in Roscoe's beautiful sonnet, striving to reclaim210 "some loved lost echo from the fleeting211 strand." But it is the fleeting shore of exquisite art, not of the far-reaching shadowy capes212 and promontories213 of "the poetic land."
Of the four interlusive lyrics the freer music is in the unique chant, "Over the sea our galleys214 went:" a song full of melody and blithe215 lilt. It is marvellously pictorial216, and yet has a freedom that places it among the most delightful of spontaneous lyrics:--
"We shouted, every man of us,
And steered217 right into the harbour thus,
With pomp and p?an glorious."
It is, however, too long for present quotation218, and as an example of Browning's early lyrics I select rather the rich and delicate second of these "Paracelsus" songs, one wherein the influence of Keats is so marked, and yet where all is the poet's own:--
"Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smeared219 with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls
Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,
Spent with the vast and howling main,
To treasure half their island-gain.
"And strew183 faint sweetness from some old
Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud220
Which breaks to dust when once unrolled;
Or shredded221 perfume, like a cloud
From closet long to quiet vowed222,
With mothed and dropping arras hung,
Mouldering223 her lute224 and books among,
As when a queen, long dead, was young."
With this music in our ears we can well forgive some of the prosaic225 commonplaces which deface "Paracelsus"--some of those lapses226 from rhythmic energy to which the poet became less and less sensitive, till he could be so deaf to the vanishing "echo of the fleeting strand" as to sink to the level of doggerel227 such as that which closes the poem called "Popularity."
"Paracelsus" is not a great, but it is a memorable228 poem: a notable achievement, indeed, for an author of Browning's years. Well may we exclaim with Festus, when we regard the poet in all the greatness of his maturity--
"The sunrise
Well warranted our faith in this full noon!"
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1
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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acclaim
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| v.向…欢呼，公认；n.欢呼，喝彩，称赞 | |
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eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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7
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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13
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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14
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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amorphous
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| adj.无定形的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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17
meted
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
conserves
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| n.（含有大块或整块水果的）果酱，蜜饯( conserve的名词复数 )v.保护，保藏，保存( conserve的第三人称单数 ) | |
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19
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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20
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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21
subside
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| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
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22
speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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23
relatively
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| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
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24
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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25
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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27
succinct
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| adj.简明的，简洁的 | |
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28
succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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29
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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30
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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31
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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32
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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33
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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34
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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35
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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36
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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38
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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39
transcribe
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| v.抄写，誉写；改编(乐曲)；复制，转录 | |
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40
procurable
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| adj.可得到的，得手的 | |
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41
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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42
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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43
averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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44
inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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45
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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46
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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47
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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49
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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50
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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51
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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52
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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53
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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54
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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55
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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56
poetically
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| adv.有诗意地，用韵文 | |
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57
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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58
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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59
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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60
dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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61
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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62
furor
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| n.狂热；大骚动 | |
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63
illuminative
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| adj.照明的，照亮的，启蒙的 | |
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64
animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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65
pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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66
titanic
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| adj.巨人的，庞大的，强大的 | |
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67
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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68
enfranchised
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| v.给予选举权( enfranchise的过去式和过去分词 )；（从奴隶制中）解放 | |
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69
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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70
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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71
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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72
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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73
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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74
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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75
technically
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| adv.专门地，技术上地 | |
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76
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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77
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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78
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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79
sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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80
lyric
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| n.抒情诗，歌词；adj.抒情的 | |
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81
ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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82
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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83
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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84
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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85
distinctively
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| adv.特殊地，区别地 | |
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86
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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87
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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88
concision
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| n.简明，简洁 | |
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89
illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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90
smears
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| 污迹( smear的名词复数 )； 污斑； （显微镜的）涂片； 诽谤 | |
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91
gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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92
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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93
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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94
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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95
interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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96
attains
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的第三人称单数 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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97
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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98
dissuades
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| 劝（某人）勿做某事，劝阻( dissuade的第三人称单数 ) | |
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99
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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100
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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101
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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102
chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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103
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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104
definitively
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| adv.决定性地，最后地 | |
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105
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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106
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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107
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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108
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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109
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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110
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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111
concurrent
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| adj.同时发生的，一致的 | |
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112
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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113
fragrances
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| n.芳香，香味( fragrance的名词复数 )；香水 | |
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114
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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116
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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117
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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118
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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119
apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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120
apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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121
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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122
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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123
dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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124
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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125
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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127
dissecting
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| v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的现在分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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128
cumulative
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| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
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129
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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130
quenchless
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| 不可熄灭的 | |
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131
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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132
maligned
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| vt.污蔑，诽谤（malign的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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133
portray
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| v.描写，描述；画(人物、景象等) | |
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134
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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135
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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136
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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137
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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138
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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139
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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140
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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141
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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142
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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143
constituents
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| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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144
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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145
bombast
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| n.高调，夸大之辞 | |
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146
forerunner
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| n.前身，先驱（者），预兆，祖先 | |
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147
appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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148
epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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149
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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150
radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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151
protagonist
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| n.(思想观念的)倡导者；主角，主人公 | |
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152
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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153
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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154
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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155
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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156
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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157
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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158
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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159
synthetic
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| adj.合成的，人工的；综合的；n.人工制品 | |
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160
populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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161
lizards
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| n.蜥蜴( lizard的名词复数 ) | |
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162
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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163
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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164
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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165
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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166
crumbles
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| 酥皮水果甜点( crumble的名词复数 ) | |
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167
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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168
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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169
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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170
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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171
beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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172
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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173
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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174
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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175
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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176
conned
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| adj.被骗了v.指挥操舵( conn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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177
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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178
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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179
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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180
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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181
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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182
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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183
strew
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| vt.撒；使散落；撒在…上，散布于 | |
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184
physiology
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| n.生理学，生理机能 | |
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185
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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186
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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187
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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188
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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189
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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190
sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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191
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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192
misused
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| v.使用…不当( misuse的过去式和过去分词 )；把…派作不正当的用途；虐待；滥用 | |
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193
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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194
derivative
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| n.派(衍)生物；adj.非独创性的，模仿他人的 | |
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195
specify
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| vt.指定，详细说明 | |
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196
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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197
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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198
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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199
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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200
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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201
artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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202
obtrusive
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| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
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203
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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204
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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205
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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206
steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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207
animates
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| v.使有生气( animate的第三人称单数 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
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208
lyrics
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| n.歌词 | |
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209
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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210
reclaim
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| v.要求归还，收回；开垦 | |
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211
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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212
capes
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| 碎谷； 斗篷( cape的名词复数 )； 披肩； 海角； 岬 | |
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213
promontories
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| n.岬，隆起，海角( promontory的名词复数 ) | |
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214
galleys
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| n.平底大船，战舰( galley的名词复数 )；（船上或航空器上的）厨房 | |
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215
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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216
pictorial
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| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
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217
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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218
quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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219
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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220
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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221
shredded
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| shred的过去式和过去分词 | |
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222
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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223
mouldering
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| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
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224
lute
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| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
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225
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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226
lapses
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| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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227
doggerel
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| n.拙劣的诗，打油诗 | |
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228
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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