An Introduction to the Study of Robert Browning's Poetry Part 23

13.

Now, in your land, gypsies reach you, only {350} After reaching all lands beside; North they go, South they go, trooping or lonely, And still, as they travel far and wide, Catch they and keep now a trace here, a trace there, That puts you in mind of a place here, a place there.

But with us, I believe they rise out of the ground, And nowhere else, I take it, are found With the earth-tint yet so freshly embrowned; Born, no doubt, like insects which breed on The very fruit they are meant to feed on. {360} For the earth--not a use to which they don't turn it, The ore that grows in the mountain's womb, Or the sand in the pits like a honeycomb, They sift and soften it, bake it and burn it-- Whether they weld you, for instance, a snaffle With side-bars never a brute can baffle; Or a lock that's a puzzle of wards within wards; Or, if your colt's fore foot inclines to curve inwards, Horseshoes they hammer which turn on a swivel And won't allow the hoof to shrivel. {370} Then they cast bells like the sh.e.l.l of the winkle That keep a stout heart in the ram with their tinkle; But the sand--they pinch and pound it like otters; Commend me to gypsy gla.s.s-makers and potters!

Gla.s.ses they'll blow you, crystal-clear, Where just a faint cloud of rose shall appear, As if in pure water you dropped and let die A bruised black-blooded mulberry; And that other sort, their crowning pride, With long white threads distinct inside, {380} Like the lake-flower's fibrous roots which dangle Loose such a length and never tangle, Where the bold sword-lily cuts the clear waters, And the cup-lily couches with all the white daughters: Such are the works they put their hand to, The uses they turn and twist iron and sand to.

And these made the troop, which our Duke saw sally Toward his castle from out of the valley, Men and women, like new-hatched spiders, Come out with the morning to greet our riders. {390} And up they wound till they reached the ditch, Whereat all stopped save one, a witch That I knew, as she hobbled from the group, By her gait directly and her stoop, I, whom Jacynth was used to importune To let that same witch tell us our fortune.

The oldest gypsy then above ground; And, sure as the autumn season came round, She paid us a visit for profit or pastime, And every time, as she swore, for the last time. {400} And presently she was seen to sidle Up to the Duke till she touched his bridle, So that the horse of a sudden reared up As under its nose the old witch peered up With her worn-out eyes, or rather eye-holes, Of no use now but to gather brine, And began a kind of level whine Such as they used to sing to their viols When their ditties they go grinding Up and down with n.o.body minding; {410} And then, as of old, at the end of the humming Her usual presents were forthcoming --A dog-whistle blowing the fiercest of trebles (Just a seash.o.r.e stone holding a dozen fine pebbles), Or a porcelain mouth-piece to screw on a pipe-end,-- And so she awaited her annual stipend.

But this time, the Duke would scarcely vouchsafe A word in reply; and in vain she felt With twitching fingers at her belt For the purse of sleek pine-martin pelt, {420} Ready to put what he gave in her pouch safe,-- Till, either to quicken his apprehension, Or possibly with an after-intention, She was come, she said, to pay her duty To the new d.u.c.h.ess, the youthful beauty.

No sooner had she named his lady, Than a shine lit up the face so shady, And its smirk returned with a novel meaning-- For it struck him, the babe just wanted weaning; If one gave her a taste of what life was and sorrow, {430} She, foolish to-day, would be wiser to-morrow; And who so fit a teacher of trouble As this sordid crone bent well-nigh double?

So, glancing at her wolf-skin vesture (If such it was, for they grow so hirsute That their own fleece serves for natural fur-suit) He was contrasting, 'twas plain from his gesture, The life of the lady so flower-like and delicate With the loathsome squalor of this helicat.

I, in brief, was the man the Duke beckoned {440} From out of the throng; and while I drew near He told the crone--as I since have reckoned By the way he bent and spoke into her ear With circ.u.mspection and mystery-- The main of the lady's history, Her frowardness and ingrat.i.tude; And for all the crone's submissive att.i.tude I could see round her mouth the loose plaits tightening, And her brow with a.s.senting intelligence brightening, As though she engaged with hearty good will {450} Whatever he now might enjoin to fulfil, And promised the lady a thorough frightening.

And so, just giving her a glimpse Of a purse, with the air of a man who imps The wing of the hawk that shall fetch the hernshaw, He bade me take the gypsy mother And set her telling some story or other Of hill and dale, oak-wood or fernshaw, To while away a weary hour For the lady left alone in her bower, {460} Whose mind and body craved exertion And yet shrank from all better diversion.

-- 354. Catch they and keep: i.e., in their expression, or bearing, or manner.

407. level: monotonous.

439. helicat: for h.e.l.l-cat? hag or witch.

454. imps: repairs a wing by inserting feathers; 'impen' or 'ympen', in O. E., means to ingraft. "It often falls out that a hawk breaks her wing and train-feathers, so that others must be set in their steads, which is termed 'ymping' them."--The Gentleman's Recreation, Part 2, Hawking, 1686.

14.

Then clapping heel to his horse, the mere curveter, Out rode the Duke, and after his hollo Horses and hounds swept, huntsman and servitor, And back I turned and bade the crone follow.

And what makes me confident what's to be told you Had all along been of this crone's devising, Is, that, on looking round sharply, behold you, There was a novelty quick as surprising: {470} For first, she had shot up a full head in stature, And her step kept pace with mine nor faltered, As if age had foregone its usurpature, And the ign.o.ble mien was wholly altered, And the face looked quite of another nature, And the change reached too, whatever the change meant, Her s.h.a.ggy wolf-skin cloak's arrangment: For where its tatters hung loose like sedges, Gold coins were glittering on the edges, Like the band-roll strung with tomans {480} Which proves the veil a Persian woman's: And under her brow, like a snail's horns newly Come out as after the rain he paces, Two unmistakable eye-points duly Live and aware looked out of their places.

So, we went and found Jacynth at the entry Of the lady's chamber standing sentry; I told the command and produced my companion, And Jacynth rejoiced to admit any one, For since last night, by the same token, {490} Not a single word had the lady spoken: They went in both to the presence together, While I in the balcony watched the weather.

-- 463. curveter: a leaping horse.

480. tomans: Persian coins.

490. by the same token: by a presentiment or forewarning of the same.

15.

And now, what took place at the very first of all, I cannot tell, as I never could learn it: Jacynth constantly wished a curse to fall On that little head of hers and burn it If she knew how she came to drop so soundly Asleep of a sudden, and there continue The whole time, sleeping as profoundly {500} As one of the boars my father would pin you 'Twixt the eyes where life holds garrison, --Jacynth, forgive me the comparison!

But where I begin my own narration Is a little after I took my station To breathe the fresh air from the balcony, And, having in those days a falcon eye, To follow the hunt through the open country, From where the bushes thinlier crested The hillocks, to a plain where's not one tree. {510} When, in a moment, my ear was arrested By--was it singing, or was it saying, Or a strange musical instrument playing In the chamber?--and to be certain I pushed the lattice, pulled the curtain, And there lay Jacynth asleep, Yet as if a watch she tried to keep, In a rosy sleep along the floor With her head against the door; While in the midst, on the seat of state, {520} Was a queen--the gypsy woman late, With head and face downbent On the lady's head and face intent: For, coiled at her feet like a child at ease, The lady sat between her knees, And o'er them the lady's clasped hands met, And on those hands her chin was set, And her upturned face met the face of the crone Wherein the eyes had grown and grown As if she could double and quadruple {530} At pleasure the play of either pupil --Very like, by her hands' slow fanning, As up and down like a gor-crow's flappers They moved to measure, or bell-clappers.

I said, "Is it blessing, is it banning, Do they applaud you or burlesque you-- Those hands and fingers with no flesh on?"

But, just as I thought to spring in to the rescue, At once I was stopped by the lady's expression: For it was life her eyes were drinking {540} From the crone's wide pair above unwinking, --Life's pure fire, received without shrinking, Into the heart and breast whose heaving Told you no single drop they were leaving, --Life that, filling her, pa.s.sed redundant Into her very hair, back swerving Over each shoulder, loose and abundant, As her head thrown back showed the white throat curving; And the very tresses shared in the pleasure, Moving to the mystic measure, {550} Bounding as the bosom bounded.

I stopped short, more and more confounded, As still her cheeks burned and eyes glistened, As she listened and she listened: When all at once a hand detained me, The selfsame contagion gained me, And I kept time to the wondrous chime, Making out words and prose and rhyme, Till it seemed that the music furled Its wings like a task fulfilled, and dropped {560} From under the words it first had propped, And left them midway in the world, Word took word as hand takes hand, I could hear at last, and understand, And when I held the unbroken thread, The gypsy said:--

"And so at last we find my tribe.

And so I set thee in the midst, And to one and all of them describe What thou saidst and what thou didst, {570} Our long and terrible journey through, And all thou art ready to say and do In the trials that remain: I trace them the vein and the other vein That meet on thy brow and part again, Making our rapid mystic mark; And I bid my people prove and probe Each eye's profound and glorious globe, Till they detect the kindred spark In those depths so dear and dark, {580} Like the spots that snap and burst and flee, Circling over the midnight sea.

And on that round young cheek of thine I make them recognize the tinge, As when of the costly scarlet wine They drip so much as will impinge And spread in a thinnest scale afloat One thick gold drop from the olive's coat Over a silver plate whose sheen Still through the mixture shall be seen. {590} For so I prove thee, to one and all, Fit, when my people ope their breast, To see the sign, and hear the call, And take the vow, and stand the test Which adds one more child to the rest-- When the breast is bare and the arms are wide, And the world is left outside.

For there is probation to decree, And many and long must the trials be Thou shalt victoriously endure, {600} If that brow is true and those eyes are sure; Like a jewel-finder's fierce a.s.say Of the prize he dug from its mountain tomb,-- Let once the vindicating ray Leap out amid the anxious gloom, And steel and fire have done their part, And the prize falls on its finder's heart; So, trial after trial past, Wilt thou fall at the very last Breathless, half in trance {610} With the thrill of the great deliverance, Into our arms forevermore; And thou shalt know, those arms once curled About thee, what we knew before, How love is the only good in the world.

Henceforth be loved as heart can love, Or brain devise, or hand approve!

Stand up, look below, It is our life at thy feet we throw To step with into light and joy; {620} Not a power of life but we employ To satisfy thy nature's want; Art thou the tree that props the plant, Or the climbing plant that seeks the tree-- Canst thou help us, must we help thee?

If any two creatures grew into one, They would do more than the world has done; Though each apart were never so weak, Ye vainly through the world should seek For the knowledge and the might {630} Which in such union grew their right: So, to approach at least that end, And blend,--as much as may be, blend Thee with us or us with thee,-- As climbing plant or propping tree, Shall some one deck thee over and down, Up and about, with blossoms and leaves?

Fix his heart's fruit for thy garland crown, Cling with his soul as the gourd-vine cleaves, Die on thy boughs and disappear {640} While not a leaf of thine is sere?

Or is the other fate in store, And art thou fitted to adore, To give thy wondrous self away, And take a stronger nature's sway?

I foresee and could foretell Thy future portion, sure and well: But those pa.s.sionate eyes speak true, speak true, Let them say what thou shalt do!

Only be sure thy daily life, {650} In its peace or in its strife, Never shall be un.o.bserved; We pursue thy whole career, And hope for it, or doubt, or fear,-- Lo, hast thou kept thy path or swerved, We are beside thee in all thy ways, With our blame, with our praise, Our shame to feel, our pride to show, Glad, angry--but indifferent, no!

Whether it be thy lot to go, {660} For the good of us all, where the haters meet In the crowded city's horrible street; Or thou step alone through the mora.s.s Where never sound yet was Save the dry quick clap of the stork's bill, For the air is still, and the water still, When the blue breast of the dipping coot Dives under, and all is mute.

So at the last shall come old age, Decrepit as befits that stage; {670} How else wouldst thou retire apart With the h.o.a.rded memories of thy heart, And gather all the very least Of the fragments of life's earlier feast, Let fall through eagerness to find The crowning dainties yet behind?

Ponder on the entire past Laid together thus at last, When the twilight helps to fuse The first fresh with the faded hues, {680} And the outline of the whole, As round eve's shades their framework roll, Grandly fronts for once thy soul.

And then as, 'mid the dark, a gleam Of yet another morning breaks, And like the hand which ends a dream, Death, with the might of his sunbeam, Touches the flesh and the soul awakes, Then"-- Ay, then indeed something would happen!

But what? For here her voice changed like a bird's; {690} There grew more of the music and less of the words; Had Jacynth only been by me to clap pen To paper and put you down every syllable With those clever clerkly fingers, All I've forgotten as well as what lingers In this old brain of mine that's but ill able To give you even this poor version Of the speech I spoil, as it were, with stammering!

--More fault of those who had the hammering Or prosody into me and syntax, {700} And did it, not with hobnails but tintacks!

But to return from this excursion,-- Just, do you mark, when the song was sweetest, The peace most deep and the charm completest, There came, shall I say, a snap-- And the charm vanished!

And my sense returned, so strangely banished, And, starting as from a nap, I knew the crone was bewitching my lady, With Jacynth asleep; and but one spring made I {710} Down from the cas.e.m.e.nt, round to the portal, Another minute and I had entered,-- When the door opened, and more than mortal Stood, with a face where to my mind centred All beauties I ever saw or shall see, The d.u.c.h.ess: I stopped as if struck by palsy.

She was so different, happy and beautiful, I felt at once that all was best, And that I had nothing to do, for the rest, But wait her commands, obey and be dutiful. {720} Not that, in fact, there was any commanding; I saw the glory of her eye, And the brow's height and the breast's expanding, And I was hers to live or to die.

As for finding what she wanted, You know G.o.d Almighty granted Such little signs should serve wild creatures To tell one another all their desires, So that each knows what his friend requires, And does its bidding without teachers. {730} I preceded her; the crone Followed silent and alone; I spoke to her, but she merely jabbered In the old style; both her eyes had slunk Back to their pits; her stature shrunk; In short, the soul in its body sunk Like a blade sent home to its scabbard.

We descended, I preceding; Crossed the court with n.o.body heeding; All the world was at the chase, {740} The court-yard like a desert-place, The stable emptied of its small fry; I saddled myself the very palfrey I remember patting while it carried her, The day she arrived and the Duke married her.

And, do you know, though it's easy deceiving One's self in such matters, I can't help believing The lady had not forgotten it either, And knew the poor devil so much beneath her Would have been only too glad, for her service, {750} To dance on hot ploughshares like a Turk dervise, But, unable to pay proper duty where owing it, Was reduced to that pitiful method of showing it.

For though, the moment I began setting His saddle on my own nag of Berold's begetting (Not that I meant to be obtrusive), She stopped me, while his rug was shifting, By a single rapid finger's lifting, And, with a gesture kind but conclusive, And a little shake of the head, refused me,-- {760} I say, although she never used me, Yet when she was mounted, the gypsy behind her, And I ventured to remind her, I suppose with a voice of less steadiness Than usual, for my feeling exceeded me, --Something to the effect that I was in readiness Whenever G.o.d should please she needed me,-- Then, do you know, her face looked down on me With a look that placed a crown on me, And she felt in her bosom,--mark, her bosom-- {770} And, as a flower-tree drops its blossom, Dropped me. . .ah! had it been a purse Of silver, my friend, or gold that's worse, Why, you see, as soon as I found myself So understood,--that a true heart so may gain Such a reward,--I should have gone home again, Kissed Jacynth, and soberly drowned myself!

It was a little plait of hair Such as friends in a convent make To wear, each for the other's sake,-- {780} This, see, which at my breast I wear, Ever did (rather to Jacynth's grudgment), And ever shall, till the Day of Judgment.

And then,--and then,--to cut short,--this is idle, These are feelings it is not good to foster,-- I pushed the gate wide, she shook the bridle, And the palfrey bounded,--and so we lost her.

-- 501. you: ethical dative; there are several examples in the poem, and of "me"; see especially v. 876.

586. impinge: to strike or fall upon or against; in the following pa.s.sage used ethically:--

"For I find this black mark impinge the man, That he believes in just the vile of life."--The Ring and the Book: The Pope, v. 511.

567-689. "When higher laws draw the spirit out of itself into the life of others; when grief has waked in it, not a self-centred despair, but a divine sympathy; when it looks from the narrow limits of its own suffering to the largeness of the world and the sorrows it can lighten, we can dimly apprehend that it has taken flight and has found its freedom in a region whither earth-bound spirits cannot follow it.

Surely the Gypsy's message was this--if the d.u.c.h.ess would leave her own troubles and throw herself into the life of others, she would be free. None can give true sympathy but those who have suffered and learnt to love, therefore she must be proved,--'Fit when my people ope their breast', etc. (vv. 592-601). Pa.s.sing from the bondage she has endured she will still have trials, but the old pain will have no power to touch her. She has learnt all it can teach, and the world will be richer for it. The Gypsy Queen will not foretell what her future life may be; the true powers of self-less love are not yet gauged, and the power of the union of those that truly love has never been tried. 'If any two creatures grew into one', etc. (vv. 626-631). Love at its highest is not yet known to us, but the pa.s.sionate eyes of the d.u.c.h.ess tell us it will not be a life of quiescence. Giving herself out freely for the good of all she can never be alone again,--'We are beside thee in all thy ways'. The great company of those who need her, the gypsy band of all human claims. Death to such a life is but 'the hand that ends a dream'. What was to come after not even the Gypsy Queen could tell."-- Mrs. Owen ('Browning Soc. Papers', Part IV. p. 52*).

712. had: past subj., should have.

753. that pitiful method: i.e., patting her palfrey.

784. And then,--and then: his feelings overcome him.

16.

When the liquor's out why clink the cannikin?

I did think to describe you the panic in The redoubtable breast of our master the manikin, {790} And what was the pitch of his mother's yellowness, How she turned as a shark to snap the spare-rib Clean off, sailors say, from a pearl-diving Carib, When she heard, what she called the flight of the feloness --But it seems such child's play, What they said and did with the lady away!

And to dance on, when we've lost the music, Always made me--and no doubt makes you--sick.

Nay, to my mind, the world's face looked so stern As that sweet form disappeared through the postern, {800} She that kept it in constant good humor, It ought to have stopped; there seemed nothing to do more.

But the world thought otherwise and went on, And my head's one that its spite was spent on: Thirty years are fled since that morning, And with them all my head's adorning.

Nor did the old d.u.c.h.ess die outright, As you expect, of suppressed spite, The natural end of every adder Not suffered to empty its poison-bladder: {810} But she and her son agreed, I take it, That no one should touch on the story to wake it, For the wound in the Duke's pride rankled fiery; So, they made no search and small inquiry: And when fresh gypsies have paid us a visit, I've Noticed the couple were never inquisitive, But told them they're folks the Duke don't want here, And bade them make haste and cross the frontier.

Brief, the d.u.c.h.ess was gone and the Duke was glad of it, And the old one was in the young one's stead, {820} And took, in her place, the household's head, And a blessed time the household had of it!

And were I not, as a man may say, cautious How I trench, more than needs, on the nauseous, I could favor you with sundry touches Of the paint-s.m.u.tches with which the d.u.c.h.ess Heightened the mellowness of her cheek's yellowness (To get on faster) until at last her Cheek grew to be one master-plaster Of mucus and fucus from mere use of ceruse: {830} In short, she grew from scalp to udder Just the object to make you shudder.

-- 793. Carib: a Caribbee, a native of the Caribbean islands.