Robert Browning: How to Know Him Part 9

This path--how soft to pace!

This May--what magic weather!

Where is the loved one's face?

In a dream that loved one's face meets mine, But the house is narrow, the place is bleak Where, outside, rain and wind combine With a furtive ear, if I strive to speak, With a hostile eye at my flushing cheek, With a malice that marks each word, each sign!

O enemy sly and serpentine, Uncoil thee from the waking man!

Do I hold the Past Thus firm and fast Yet doubt if the Future hold I can?

This path so soft to pace shall lead Thro' the magic of May to herself indeed!

Or narrow if needs the house must he, Outside are the storms and strangers: we-- Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, --I and she!

IV

DRAMATIC LYRICS

Browning's poetic career extended from 1833 to 1889, nearly sixty years of fairly continuous composition. We may make a threefold division: first, the thirteen years before his marriage in 1846; second, the fifteen years of married life, closing in 1861; third, the remaining twenty-eight years. During the first period he published twelve works; during the second, two; during the third, eighteen. The fact that so little was published during the years when his wife was alive may be accounted for by the fact that the condition of her health required his constant care, and that after the total failure of _Men and Women_ (1855) to attract any popular attention, Browning for some time spent most of his energy in clay-modelling, giving up poetry altogether. Not long before the death of Mrs. Browning, he was busy writing _Prince Hohenstiel-Schw.a.n.gau_, although he did not publish it until the right moment, which came in 1871. After the appearance of _Dramatis Personae_ (1864), and _The Ring and the Book_ (1868-9), Browning's fame spread like a prairie fire; and it was quite natural that his immense reputation was a sharp spur to composition. One is more ready to speak when one is sure of an audience. Capricious destiny, however, willed that the books which sold the fastest after publication, were, with few exceptions, the least interesting and valuable of all the poet's performances. Perhaps he did not take so much care now that his fame was a.s.sured; perhaps the fires in his own mind were dying; perhaps the loss of his wife robbed him of necessary inspiration, as it certainly robbed him of the best critic he ever had, and the only one to whom he paid any serious attention.

When we remember that some of the _Dramatic Romances_, _Luria_, _A Soul's Tragedy_, _Christmas-Eve_, _Men and Women_, and some of the _Dramatis Personae_ were read by her in ma.n.u.script, and that _The Ring and the Book_ was written in the shadow of her influence, we begin to realise how much she helped him. Their love-letters during the months that preceded their marriage indicate the excellence of her judgment, her profound and sympathetic understanding of his genius and his willingness to listen to her advice. He did not intend to publish _A Soul's Tragedy_ at all, though it is one of his most subtle and interesting dramas, and only did so at her request; part of the ma.n.u.script of _Christmas-Eve_ is in her handwriting,

It is worth remembering too that in later years Browning hated to write poetry, and nothing but a sense of duty kept him during the long mornings at his desk. He felt the responsibility of genius without its inspiration.

Browning has given a little trouble to bibliographers by redistributing the poems originally published in the three works, _Dramatic Lyrics_ (1842), _Dramatic Romances and Lyrics_ (1845), and _Men and Women_ (1855). The _Dramatic Lyrics_ at first contained sixteen pieces; the _Dramatic Romances and Lyrics_ twenty-three; the _Men and Women_ fifty-one. In the final arrangement the first of these included fifty; the second, called simply _Dramatic Romances_, twenty-five; whilst the last was reduced to thirteen. He also changed the t.i.tles of many of the poems, revised the text somewhat, cla.s.sified two separate poems under one t.i.tle, _Claret and Tokay_, and _Here's to Nelson's Memory_, under the heading _Nationality in Drinks_, and united the two sections of _Saul_ in one poem. It is notable that he omitted not one, and indeed it is remarkable that with the exception of _The Boy and the Angel_, _A Lover's Quarrel_, _Mesmerism_, and _Another Way of Love_, every poem in the long list has the indubitable touch of genius; and even these four are not the worst of Browning's compositions.

It would have seemed to us perhaps more fitting if Browning had grouped the contents of all three works under the one heading _Men and Women_; for that would fairly represent the sole subject of his efforts. Perhaps he felt that the t.i.tle was too general, and as a matter of fact, it would apply equally well to his complete poetical works. I think, however, that he especially loved the appellation _Dramatic Lyrics_, for he put over half of the poems finally under that category. The word "dramatic" obsessed Browning.

What is a dramatic lyric? When Tennyson published in 1842 his _Ulysses_, a Yankee farmer in America made in one sentence three remarks about it: a statement and two prophecies. He said that _Ulysses_ belonged to a high cla.s.s of poetry, destined to be the highest, and to be more cultivated in the next generation. Now _Ulysses_ is both a dramatic lyric and a dramatic monologue, and Tennyson never wrote anything better than this poem. As it became increasingly evident that the nineteenth century was not going to have a great literary dramatic movement on the stage, while at the same time the interest in human nature had never been keener, the poets began to turn their attention to the interpretation of humanity by the representation of historical or imaginary individuals speaking: and their speech was to reveal the secrets of the human soul, in its tragedy and comedy, in its sublimity and baseness, in its n.o.bility and folly. Later in life Tennyson cultivated sedulously the dramatic monologue; and Browning, the most original force in literature that the century produced, after abandoning his early attempts at success on the stage, devoted practically the entire strength of his genius to this form of poetry.

Emerson was a wise man.

In reshuffling the short poems in the three works mentioned above, it is not always easy to see the logic of the distribution and it would be interesting if we could know the reasons that guided the poet in the cla.s.sification of particular poems. Thus it is perfectly clear why _Incident of the French Camp_, _Count Gismond_, and _In a Gondola_ were taken from the _Dramatic Lyrics_ and placed among the _Dramatic Romances_; it is easy to see why _The Lost Leader_ and _Home-Thoughts, from Abroad_ were taken from the _Romances_ and placed among the _Lyrics_; it is not quite so clear why _Rudel_ and _Artemis Prologizes_ were taken from the _Lyrics_ and cla.s.sed among _Men and Women_, when nearly all the poems originally published under the latter head were changed to _Lyrics_ and _ Romances_. In changing _How They Brought the Good News_ from the _Dramatic Romances_, where it was originally published, to _ Dramatic Lyrics_, Browning probably felt that the lyrical sound of the piece was more important than the story: but it really is a dramatic romance. Furthermore, _My Last d.u.c.h.ess_ would seem to fall more properly under the heading _Men and Women_; Browning, however, took it from the _Dramatic Lyrics_ and placed it among the _Dramatic Romances_. In most cases, however, the reason for the transfer of individual poems is clear; and a study of the cla.s.sification is of positive a.s.sistance toward the understanding of the piece.

In the eight volumes published from 1841 to 1846, which Browning called _Bells and Pomegranates_, meaning simply Sound and Sense, Meat and Music, only two are collections of short poems and the other six contain exclusively plays--seven in all, two being printed together in the last volume. Browning intended the whole _Bells and Pomegranates_ series to be devoted to the drama, as one may see by the original preface to _Pippa Pa.s.ses_: but that drama and the next did not sell, and the publisher suggested that he include some short poems. This explains why the third volume is filled with lyrics; and in a note published with it, Browning half apologised for what might seem a departure from his original plan, saying these two might properly fall under the head of dramatic pieces; being, although lyrical in expression, "always dramatic in principle, and so many utterances of so many imaginary persons, not mine."

He means then by a dramatic lyric a poem that is short, that is musical, but that is absolutely not subjective--does not express or betray the writer's own ideas nor even his mood, as is done in Tennyson's ideal lyric, _Crossing the Bar_. A dramatic lyric is a composition lyrical in form, and dramatic in subject-matter; remembering all the time that by dramatic we do not necessarily mean anything exciting but simply something objective, something entirely apart from the poet's own feelings. On the stage this is accomplished by the creation of separate characters who _in propria persona_ express views that may or may not be in harmony with the poet's own. Thus, Macbeth's speech, beginning

Out, out, brief candle!

is really a dramatic lyric; because it is lyrical in form, and it expresses views on the value of life which could hardly have been held by Shakespeare, though they seem eminently fitting from the lips of a man who had tried to gain the whole world by losing his soul, and had succeeded in losing both.

In view of Browning's love for this form of verse, it is interesting to remember that the first two independent short poems that he ever wrote and retained in his works are both genuine dramatic lyrics.

These are _Porphyria's Lover_ and _Johannes Agricola_, printed in the _Monthly Repository_ in 1836, when Browning was twenty-four years old. Thus early did he show both apt.i.tude for this form and excellence in it, for each of these pieces is a work of genius. They were meant to be studies in abnormal psychology, for they were printed together in the _Dramatic Lyrics_ under the caption _ Madhouse Cells_. Browning was very young then, and naturally thought a man who believed in predestination and a man who killed the woman he loved were both insane; but after a longer experience of life, and seeing how many strange creatures walk the streets, he ceased to call these two men, obsessed by religion and obsessed by love, mad.

If Porphyria's lover is mad, there is method in his madness. Her superior social rank has stifled hitherto the instincts of the heart; she has never given her lover any favors; but to-night, at the dinner-dance, by one of those strange and inexplicable caprices that make Woman the very Genius of the Unexpected, she has a vision. In the midst of the lights and the laughter, she sees her lonely lover sitting dejectedly in his cold and cheerless cottage, thinking of her.

She slips away from the gay company, trips through the pouring rain, and enters the dark room like an angel of light. After kindling a blazing fire in the grate, she kindles her lover's hope-dead heart; she draws him to her and places his head on her naked shoulder.

Suddenly a thought comes to him; one can see the light of murder in his eyes. At this moment she is sublime, fit for Heaven: for the first time in her life, a n.o.ble impulse has triumphed over the debasing conventions of society; if he lets her go, she will surely fall from grace, and become a lost soul. He strangles her with her yellow hair, risking d.a.m.nation for her salvation. So the quick and the dead sit together through the long night.

PORPHYRIA'S LOVER

1836

The rain set early in to-night, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its worst to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up, and all the cottage warm; Which done, she rose, and from her form Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, And laid her soiled gloves by, untied Her hat and let the damp hair fall, And, last, she sat down by my side And called me. When no voice replied, She put my arm about her waist, And made her smooth white shoulder bare, And all her yellow hair displaced, And, stooping, made my cheek lie there, And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair, Murmuring how she loved me--she Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour, To set its struggling pa.s.sion free From pride, and vainer ties dissever, And give herself to me for ever.

But pa.s.sion sometimes would prevail, Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain A sudden thought of one so pale For love of her, and all in vain: So, she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes Happy and proud; at last I knew Porphyria worshipped me; surprise Made my heart swell, and still it grew While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair, Perfectly pure and good: I found A thing to do, and all her hair In one long yellow string I wound Three times her little throat around, And strangled her. No pain felt she; I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee, I warily oped her lids: again Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress About her neck; her cheek once more Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss: I propped her head up as before, Only, this time my shoulder bore Her head, which droops upon it still; The smiling rosy little head, So glad it has its utmost will, That all it scorned at once is fled, And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria's love: she guessed not how Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now, And all night long we have not stirred, And yet G.o.d has not said a word!

What is the meaning of that last enigmatical line? Does it mean that the expected bolt from the sky has not fallen, that G.o.d approves of the murder? Or does it mean that the man is vaguely disappointed, that he had hoped to hear a voice from Heaven, saying, "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased"? Or does it mean that the Power above is wholly indifferent, "when the sky, which noticed all, makes no disclosure"?

In _Johannes Agricola_, Browning wrote a lyric setting forth the strange and yet largely accepted doctrine that Almighty G.o.d before the foundations of the earth were laid, predestined a few of the coming population to everlasting bliss and the vast majority to eternal torture. This is by no means a meditation in a madhouse cell, as Browning first believed; but might logically be the reflections of a nineteenth century Presbyterian clergyman, seated in his comfortable library. It is the ecstatic mystical joy of one who realises, that through no merit of his own, he is numbered among the elect. Sir Thomas Browne quaintly pictured to himself the surprise of the n.o.ble, upright men of antiquity, when they wake up in h.e.l.l simply because they did not believe on One of whom they had never heard; so Johannes speculates on the ironical fate of monks, ascetics, women and children, whose lives were full of innocence and purity, who nevertheless reach ultimately the lake of fire. Praise G.o.d for it!

for if I could understand Him, I could not praise Him. How much more n.o.ble this predestinating G.o.d is than one who should reward virtue, and thus make eternal bliss a matter of calculation and bargain!

JOHANNES AGRICOLA IN MEDITATION

1836

There's heaven above, and night by night I look right through its gorgeous roof; No suns and moons though e'er so bright Avail to stop me; splendour-proof I keep the broods of stars aloof: For I intend to get to G.o.d, For 'tis to G.o.d I speed so fast, For in G.o.d's breast, my own abode, Those shoals of dazzling glory pa.s.sed, I lay my spirit down at last.

I lie where I have always lain, G.o.d smiles as he has always smiled; Ere suns and moons could wax and wane, Ere stars were thundergirt, or piled The heavens, G.o.d thought on me his child; Ordained a life for me, arrayed Its circ.u.mstances every one To the minutest; ay, G.o.d said This head this hand should rest upon Thus, ere he fashioned star or sun.

And having thus created me, Thus rooted me, he bade me grow, Guiltless for ever, like a tree That buds and blooms, nor seeks to know The law by which it prospers so: But sure that thought and word and deed All go to swell his love for me, Me, made because that love had need Of something irreversibly Pledged solely its content to be.

Yes, yes, a tree which must ascend, No poison-gourd foredoomed to stoop!

I have G.o.d's warrant, could I blend All hideous sins, as in a cup, To drink the mingled venoms up; Secure my nature will convert The draught to blossoming gladness fast: While sweet dews turn to the gourd's hurt, And bloat, and while they bloat it, blast, As from the first its lot was cast.

For as I lie, smiled on, full-fed By unexhausted power to bless, I gaze below on h.e.l.l's fierce bed, And those its waves of flame oppress, Swarming in ghastly wretchedness; Whose life on earth aspired to be One altar-smoke, so pure!--to win If not love like G.o.d's love for me, At least to keep his anger in; And all their striving turned to sin.

Priest, doctor, hermit, monk grown white With prayer, the broken-hearted nun, The martyr, the wan acolyte, The incense-swinging child,--undone Before G.o.d fashioned star or sun!

G.o.d, whom I praise; how could I praise, If such as I might understand, Make out and reckon on his ways, And bargain for his love, and stand, Paying a price, at his right hand?

The religious exaltation of the opening lines

There's heaven above, and night by night I look right through its gorgeous roof; ...

For I intend to get to G.o.d, For 'tis to G.o.d I speed so fast, For in G.o.d's breast, my own abode, Those shoals of dazzling glory, pa.s.sed, I lay my spirit down at last

reminds one infallibly of Tennyson's beautiful dramatic lyric, _St. Agnes' Eve_:

Deep on the convent roof the snows Are sparkling to the moon: My breath to heaven like vapour goes, May my soul follow soon!

It is interesting to remember that the former was published in 1836, the latter in 1837, and each in a periodical.

Perhaps Browning attempted to show the dramatic quality of his lyrics by finally placing at the very beginning the _Cavalier Tunes_ and _The Lost Leader_; for the former voice in eloquent language the hatred of democratic ideas, and the latter, in language equally strenuous, is a glorification of democracy. Imagine Browning himself saying what he places in the mouth of his gallant cavaliers-- "Hampden to h.e.l.l!" In the second, _The Lost Leader_, nothing was farther from Browning's own feelings than a personal attack on Wordsworth, whom he regarded with reverence; in searching for an example of a really great character who had turned from the popular to the aristocratic party, he happened to think of the change from radicalism to conservatism exhibited by Wordsworth. Love for the lost leader is still strong in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of his quondam followers who now must fight him; in Heaven he will not only be pardoned, he will be first there as he was always first here. In the following lines, the prepositions are interesting:

Shakespeare was _of_ us, Milton was _for_ us, Burns, Sh.e.l.ley, were _with_ us.