"One whose heart a stranger's tear might wearAs water-drops the sandy fountain stone;Who loved and pitied all things, and could moanFor woes which others hear not, and could seeThe absent with the glass of phantasy,And near the poor and trampled sit and weep,Following the captive to his dungeon deep—One who was as a nerve o'er which do creepThe else-unfelt oppressions of this earth."
"One whose heart a stranger's tear might wearAs water-drops the sandy fountain stone;Who loved and pitied all things, and could moanFor woes which others hear not, and could seeThe absent with the glass of phantasy,And near the poor and trampled sit and weep,Following the captive to his dungeon deep—One who was as a nerve o'er which do creepThe else-unfelt oppressions of this earth."
"One whose heart a stranger's tear might wearAs water-drops the sandy fountain stone;Who loved and pitied all things, and could moanFor woes which others hear not, and could seeThe absent with the glass of phantasy,And near the poor and trampled sit and weep,Following the captive to his dungeon deep—One who was as a nerve o'er which do creepThe else-unfelt oppressions of this earth."
"One whose heart a stranger's tear might wear
As water-drops the sandy fountain stone;
Who loved and pitied all things, and could moan
For woes which others hear not, and could see
The absent with the glass of phantasy,
And near the poor and trampled sit and weep,
Following the captive to his dungeon deep—
One who was as a nerve o'er which do creep
The else-unfelt oppressions of this earth."
Such sympathy with his kind was evidently developed in him to an extraordinary and even morbid degree, at a period when the general intellectual powers it was impatient to put in motion were immature or deficient.
I conjecture, from a review of the various publications of Shelley's youth, that one of the causes of his failure at the outset was the peculiarpracticalnessof his mind, which was not without a determinate effect on his progress in theorizing. An ordinary youth, who turns his attention to similar subjects, discovers falsities, incongruities, and various points for amendment, and, in the natural advance of the purely critical spirit unchecked by considerations of remedy, keeps up before his young eyes so many instances of the same error and wrong, that he finds himself unawares arrived at the startling conclusion, that all must be changed—or nothing: in the face of which plainly impossible achievement, he is apt (looking perhaps a little more serious by the time he touches at the decisive issue) to feel, either carelessly or considerately, that his own attempting a single piece of service would be worse than useless even, and to refer the whole task to another age and person—safe in proportion to his incapacity. Wanting words to speak, he has never made a fool of himself by speaking. But, in Shelley's case, the early fervor and power toseewas accompanied by as precocious a fertility tocontrive:he endeavored to realize as hewent on idealizing; every wrong had simultaneously its remedy, and, out of the strength of his hatred for the former, he took the strength of his confidence in the latter—till suddenly he stood pledged to the defence of a set of miserable little expedients, just as if they represented great principles, and to an attack upon various great principles, really so, without leaving himself time to examine whether because they were antagonistical to the remedy he had suggested, they must therefore be identical or even essentially connected with the wrong he sought to cure,—playing with blind passion into the hands of his enemies, and dashing at whatever red cloak was held forth to him, as the cause of the fireball he had last been stung with—mistaking Churchdom for Christianity, and for marriage, "the sale of love" and the law of sexual oppression.
Gradually, however, he was leaving behind him this low practical dexterity, unable to keep up with his widening intellectual perception; and, in exact proportion as he did so, his true power strengthened and proved itself. Gradually he was raised above the contemplation of spots and the attempt at effacing them, to the great Abstract Light, and through the discrepancy of the creation, to the sufficiency of the First Cause. Gradually he was learning that the best way of removing abuses is to stand fast by truth. Truth is one, as they are manifold; and innumerable negative effects are produced by the upholding of one positive principle. I shall say what I think,—had Shelley lived he would have finally ranged himself with the Christians; his very instinct for helping the weaker side (if numbers make strength), his very "hate of hate," which at first mistranslated itself into delirious Queen Mab notes and the like, would have got clear-sighted by exercise. The preliminary step to following Christ, is the leaving the dead to bury their dead—not clamoring on his doctrine for an especial solution of difficulties which are referable to the general problem of the universe. Already he had attained to a profession of "a worship to the Spirit of good within, which requires (before it sends that inspiration forth, which impresses its likeness upon all it creates) devoted and disinterested homage,"as Coleridge says,—and Paul likewise. And we find in one of his last exquisite fragments, avowedly a record of one of his own mornings and its experience, as it dawned on him at his soul and body's best in his boat on the Serchio—that as surely as
"The stars burnt out in the pale blue air,And the thin white moon lay withering there—Day had kindled the dewy woods,And the rocks above, and the stream below,And the vapors in their multitudes,And the Apennine's shroud of summer snow—Day had awakened all things that be;"
"The stars burnt out in the pale blue air,And the thin white moon lay withering there—Day had kindled the dewy woods,And the rocks above, and the stream below,And the vapors in their multitudes,And the Apennine's shroud of summer snow—Day had awakened all things that be;"
"The stars burnt out in the pale blue air,And the thin white moon lay withering there—Day had kindled the dewy woods,And the rocks above, and the stream below,And the vapors in their multitudes,And the Apennine's shroud of summer snow—Day had awakened all things that be;"
"The stars burnt out in the pale blue air,
And the thin white moon lay withering there—
Day had kindled the dewy woods,
And the rocks above, and the stream below,
And the vapors in their multitudes,
And the Apennine's shroud of summer snow—
Day had awakened all things that be;"
just so surely, he tells us (stepping forward from this delicious dance-music, choragus-like, into the grander measure befitting the final enunciation),—
"All rose to do the task He set to each,Who shaped us to His ends and not our own;The million rose to learn, and One to teachWhat none yet ever knew or can be known."
"All rose to do the task He set to each,Who shaped us to His ends and not our own;The million rose to learn, and One to teachWhat none yet ever knew or can be known."
"All rose to do the task He set to each,Who shaped us to His ends and not our own;The million rose to learn, and One to teachWhat none yet ever knew or can be known."
"All rose to do the task He set to each,
Who shaped us to His ends and not our own;
The million rose to learn, and One to teach
What none yet ever knew or can be known."
No more difference than this, from David's pregnant conclusion so long ago!
Meantime, as I call Shelley a moral man, because he was true, simple-hearted, and brave, and because what he acted corresponded to what he knew, so I call him a man of religious mind, because every audacious negative cast up by him against the Divine was interpenetrated with a mood of reverence and adoration,—and because I find him everywhere taking for granted some of the capital dogmas of Christianity, while most vehemently denying their historical basement. There is such a thing as an efficacious knowledge of and belief in the politics of Junius, or the poetry of Rowley, though a man should at the same time dispute the title of Chatterton to the one, and consider the author of the other, as Byron wittily did, "really, truly, nobody at all."[11]
There is even such a thing, we come to learn wonderingly in these very letters, as a profound sensibility and adaptitude for art, while the science of the percipient is so little advanced as to admit of his stronger admiration for Guido (and Carlo Dolce!) than for Michael Angelo. A Divine Being has Himself said, that "a word against the Son of man shall be forgiven to a man," while "a word against the Spirit of God" (implying a general deliberate preference of perceived evil to perceived good) "shall not be forgiven to a man." Also, in religion, one earnest and unextorted assertion of belief should outweigh, as a matter of testimony, many assertions of unbelief. The fact that there is a gold-region is established by finding one lump, though you miss the vein never so often.
He died before his youth ended. In taking the measure of him as a man, he must be considered on the whole and at his ultimate spiritual stature, and not to be judged of at the immaturity and by the mistakes of ten years before: that, indeed, would be to judge of the author of "Julian and Maddalo by Zastrozzi." Let the whole truth be told of his worst mistake. I believe, for my own part, that if anything could now shame or grieve Shelley, it would be an attempt to vindicate him at the expense of another.
In forming a judgment, I would, however,press on the reader the simple justice of considering tenderly his constitution of body as well as mind, and how unfavorable it was to the steady symmetries of conventional life; the body, in the torture of incurable disease, refusing to give repose to the bewildered soul, tossing in its hot fever of the fancy,—and the laudanum-bottle making but a perilous and pitiful truce between these two. He was constantly subject to "that state of mind" (I quote his own note toHellas) "in which ideas may be supposed to assume the force of sensation, through the confusion of thought, with the objects of thought, and excess of passion animating the creations of the imagination:" in other words, he was liable to remarkable delusions and hallucinations. The nocturnal attack in Wales, for instance, was assuredly a delusion; and I venture to express my own conviction, derived from a little attention to the circumstances of either story, that the idea of the enamored lady following him to Naples, and of the "man in the cloak" who struck him at the Pisan post-office, were equally illusory, —the mere projection, in fact, from himself, of the image of his own love and hate.
"To thirst and find no fill—to wail and wanderWith short unsteady step—to pause and ponder—To feel the blood run through the veins and tingleWhen busy thought and blind sensation mingle,—To nurse the image ofunfelt caressesTill dim imagination just possessesThe half-created shadow"—
"To thirst and find no fill—to wail and wanderWith short unsteady step—to pause and ponder—To feel the blood run through the veins and tingleWhen busy thought and blind sensation mingle,—To nurse the image ofunfelt caressesTill dim imagination just possessesThe half-created shadow"—
"To thirst and find no fill—to wail and wanderWith short unsteady step—to pause and ponder—To feel the blood run through the veins and tingleWhen busy thought and blind sensation mingle,—To nurse the image ofunfelt caressesTill dim imagination just possessesThe half-created shadow"—
"To thirst and find no fill—to wail and wander
With short unsteady step—to pause and ponder—
To feel the blood run through the veins and tingle
When busy thought and blind sensation mingle,—
To nurse the image ofunfelt caresses
Till dim imagination just possesses
The half-created shadow"—
of unfelt caresses,—and of unfelt blows as well: to such conditions was his genius subject. It was not at Rome only (where he heard a mystic voice exclaiming, "Cenci, Cenci," in reference to the tragic theme which occupied him at the time),—it was not at Rome only that he mistook the cry of "old rags." The habit of somnambulism is said to have extended to the very last days of his life.
Let me conclude with a thought of Shelley as a poet. In the hierarchy of creative minds, it is the presence of the highest faculty that gives first rank, in virtue of its kind, not degree; no pretension of a lower nature, whatever the completeness of development of, variety of effect, impeding the precedency of the rarer endowment though only in the germ. The contrary is sometimes maintained; it is attempted to make the lower gifts (which are potentially included in the higher faculty) of independent value, and equal to some exercise of the special function. For instance, should not a poet possess common sense? Then the possession of abundant common sense implies a step towards becoming a poet. Yes; such a step as the lapidary's, when, strong in the fact of carbon entering largely into the composition of the diamond, he heaps up a sack of charcoal in order to compete with the Koh-i-noor. I pass at once, therefore, from Shelley's minor excellences to his noblest and predominating characteristic.
This I call his simultaneous perception of Power and Love in the absolute, and of Beauty and Good in the concrete, while he throws, from his poet's station between both, swifter,
subtler, and more numerous films for the connection of each with each, than have been thrown by any modern artificer of whom I have knowledge; proving how, as he says,
"The spirit of the worm within the sodIn love and worship blends itself with God."
"The spirit of the worm within the sodIn love and worship blends itself with God."
"The spirit of the worm within the sodIn love and worship blends itself with God."
"The spirit of the worm within the sod
In love and worship blends itself with God."
I would rather consider Shelley's poetry as a sublime fragmentary essay towards a presentment of the correspondency of the universe to Deity, of the natural to the spiritual, and of the actual to the ideal, than I would isolate and separately appraise the worth of many detachable portions which might be acknowledged as utterly perfect in a lower moral point of view, under the mere conditions of art. It would be easy to take my stand on successful instances of objectivity in Shelley: there is the unrivalledCenci;there is theJulian and Maddalotoo; there is the magnificentOde to Naples:why not regard, it may be said, the less organized matter as the radiant elemental foam and solution, out of which would have been evolved, eventually, creations as perfect even as those? But I prefer to look for the highest attainment, not simply the high,—and, seeing it, I hold by it. There is surely enough of the work "Shelley" to be known enduringly among men, and, I believe, to be accepted of God, as human work may; and around the imperfect proportions of such, the most elaborated productions of ordinary art must arrange themselves as inferior illustrations.
It is because I have long held these opinions in assurance and gratitude, that I catch at the opportunity offered to me of expressing them here; knowing that the alacrity to fulfil an humble office conveys more love than the acceptance of the honor of a higher one, and that better, therefore, than the signal service it was the dream of my boyhood to render to his fame and memory, may be the saying of a few inadequate words upon these scarcely more important supplementary letters of Shelley.
Page 2.Pauline. A translation of the passage from Cornelius Agrippa may be found in Cooke, p. 285.
V. A. XX.i. e., Vixi annos viginti. I was twenty years old.
Page 3.
Had not the glow I felt at his award. . . . . . . . .Sun-treader, life and light be thine forever.
Had not the glow I felt at his award. . . . . . . . .Sun-treader, life and light be thine forever.
Had not the glow I felt at his award. . . . . . . . .Sun-treader, life and light be thine forever.
Had not the glow I felt at his award
. . . . . . . . .
Sun-treader, life and light be thine forever.
The whole passage refers to Shelley. Many annotations to the poem are given inPoet-Lore, January and February, 1889.
Page 9.O God, where does this tend—these struggling aims?
Browning appends the following note, a translation of which may be found in Cooke, p. 332.
"Je crains bien que mon pauvre ami ne soit pas toujours parfaitement compris dans ce qui reste à lire de cet étrange fragment, mais il est moins propre que tout autre à éclaircir ce qui de sa nature ne peut jamais être que songe et confusion.D'ailleurs je ne sais trop si en cherchant à mieux co-ordonner certaines parties l'on ne courrait pas le risque de nuire au seul mérite auquel une production si singulière peut prètendre, celui de donner une idée assez précise du genre qu'elle n'a fait qu' ébaucher. Ce début sans prétention, ce remuement des passions qui va d'abord en accroissant et puis s'appaise par degrés, ces élans de l'âme, ce retour soudain sur soimême, et par-dessus tout, la tournure d'esprit tout particulière de mon ami, rendent les changemens presque impossibles. Les raisons qu'il fait valoir ailleurs, et d'autres encore plus puissantes, ont fait trouver grâce à mes yeux pour cet écrit qu'autrement je lui eusse conseillé de jeter au feu. Je n'en crois pas moins au grand principe de toute composition—à ce principe de Shakespeare, de Rafaelle, de Beethoven, d'où il suit que la concentration des idées est dûe bien plus à leur conception qu'à leur mise en exécution: j'ai tout lieu de craindre que la première de ces qualités ne soit encore étrangere à mon ami, et je doute fort qu'un redoublement de travail lui fasse acquerir la seconde. Le mieux serait de brûler ceci; mais que faire?
"Je crois que dans ce qui suit il fait allusion à un certain examen qu'il fit autrefois de l'âme ou plutôt de son âme, pour decouvrir la suite des objets auxquels il lui serait possible d'attendre, et dont chacun une fois obtenu devait former une espèce de plateau d'où l'on pouvait aperçevoir d'autres buts, d'autres projets, d'autres jouissances qui, à leur tour, devaient être surmontes. Il en resultait que l'oubli et le sommeil devaient tout terminer. Cette idée, que je ne saisis pas parfaitement, lui est peutêtre aussi inintelligible qu'à moi."
Pauline.
Page 12.Paracelsus.The following historical note and comment was provided by Browning to accompany the poem. The notes indicated by the superior numbers in the text will be found at the end of the article.
The liberties I have taken with my subject are very trifling; and the reader may slip the foregoing scenes between the leaves of any memoir of Paracelsus he pleases, by way of commentary. To prove this, I subjoin a popular account, translated from theBiographie Universelle, Paris, 1822, which I select, not as the best, certainly, but as being at hand, and sufficiently concise for my purpose. I also append a few notes, in order to correct those parts which do not bear out my own view of the character of Paracelsus; and have incorporated with them a notice or two, illustrative of the poem itself.
"Paracelsus(Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus ab Hohenheim) was born in 1493 at Einsiedeln,[12]a little town in the canton of Schwyz, some leagues distant from Zurich. His father, who exercised the profession of medicine at Villach in Carinthia, was nearly related to George Bombast de Hohenheim, who became afterward Grand Prior of the Order of Malta: consequently Paracelsus could not spring from the dregs of the people, as Thomas Erastus, his sworn enemy, pretends.[A]It appears that his elementary education was much neglected, and that he spent part of his youth in pursuing the life common to the travellingliteratiof the age; that is to say, in wandering from country to country, predicting the future by astrology and cheiromancy, evoking apparitions, and practising the different operations of magic and alchemy, in which he had been initiated whether by his father or by various ecclesiastics, among the number of whom he particularizes the Abbot Tritheim,[13]and many German bishops.
"As Paracelsus displays everywhere an ignorance of the rudiments of the most ordinary knowledge, it is not probable that he ever studied seriously in the schools: he contented himself with visiting the universities of Germany, France, and Italy; and in spite of his boasting himself to have been the ornament of those institutions, there is no proof of his having legally acquired the title of Doctor, which he assumes. It is only known that he applied himself long, under the direction of the wealthy Sigismond Fugger of Schwatz, to the discovery of the Magnum Opus.
"Paracelsus travelled among the mountains of Bohemia, in the east, and in Sweden, in order to inspect the labors of the miners, to be initiated in the mysteries of the oriental adepts, and to observe the secrets of nature and the famous mountain of loadstone.[14]He professes also to have visited Spain, Portugal, Prussia, Poland, and Transylvania; everywhere communicating freely, not merely with the physicians, but the old women, charlatans, and conjurers of these several lands. It is even believed that he extended his journeyings as far as Egypt and Tartary, and that he accompanied the son of the Khan of the Tartars to Constantinople, for the purpose of obtaining the secret of the tincture of Trismegistus from a Greek who inhabited that capital.
"The period of his return to Germany is unknown: it is only certain that, at about the age of thirty-three, many astonishing cures which he wrought on eminent personages procured him such a celebrity, that he was called in 1526, on the recommendation of Œcolampadius,[15]to fill a chair of physic and surgery at the University of Basle. There Paracelsus began by burning publicly in the amphitheatre the works of Avicenna and Galen, assuring his auditors that the latchets of his shoes were more instructed than those two physicians; that all universities, all writers put together, were less gifted than the hairs of his beard and of the crown of his head; and that, in a word, he was to be regardedas the legitimate monarch of medicine, 'You shall follow me,' cried he, 'you, Avicenna, Galen, Rhasis, Montagnana, Mesues, you, gentlemen of Paris, Montpellier, Germany, Cologne, Vienna,[B]and whomsoever the Rhine and Danube nourish; you who inhabit the isles of the sea; you, likewise, Dalmatians, Athenians: thou, Arab; thou, Greek; thou, Jew: all shall follow me, and the monarchy shall be mine.'[C]
"But at Basle it was speedily perceived that the new Professor was no better than an egregious quack. Scarcely a year elapsed before his lectures had fairly driven away an audience incapable of comprehending their emphatic jargon. That which above all contributed to sully his reputation was the debauched life he led. According to the testimony of Oporinus, who lived two years in his intimacy, Paracelsus scarcely ever ascended the lecture-desk unless half drunk, and only dictated to his secretaries when in a state of intoxication: if summoned to attend the sick, he rarely proceeded thither without previously drenching himself with wine. He was accustomed to retire to bed without changing his clothes; sometimes he spent the night in pot-houses with peasants, and in the morning knew no longer what he was about; and, nevertheless, up to the age of twenty-five his only drink had been water.[16]
"At length, fearful of being punished for a serious outrage on a magistrate,[17]he fled from Basle towards the end of the year 1527, and took refuge in Alsatia, whither he caused Oporinus to follow with his chemical apparatus.
"He then entered once more upon the career of ambulatory theosophist.[D]Accordingly we find him at Colmar in 1528; at Nuremberg in 1529; at St. Gall in 1531; at Pfeffers in 1535; and at Augsburg in 1536: he next made some stay in Moravia, where he still further compromised his reputation by the loss of many distinguished patients, which compelled him to betake himself to Vienna; from thence he passed into Hungary; and in 1538 was at Villach, where he dedicated hisChronicleto the States of Carinthia, in gratitude for the many kindnesses with which they had honored his father. Finally, from Mindelheim, which he visited in 1540, Paracelsus proceeded to Salzburg, where he died in the hospital of St. Stephen (Sebastianis meant), Sept. 24, 1541."—(Here follows a criticism on his writings, which I omit.)
Page 52. Act I. sc. 2.Lady CarlisleandWentworth.
Lady Carlisle, whose part was taken by Helen Faucit, afterward Lady Martin, was in history daughter to the ninth Earl of Northumberland. In 1639 she had been for three years a widow.
Page 71.
...ConsignTo the low ground once more the ignoble Term,And raise the Genius on his orb again.
...ConsignTo the low ground once more the ignoble Term,And raise the Genius on his orb again.
...ConsignTo the low ground once more the ignoble Term,And raise the Genius on his orb again.
...Consign
To the low ground once more the ignoble Term,
And raise the Genius on his orb again.
Thetermwas a statue representing the Roman term, the god who presides over boundaries. Thegeniuswas the image that represented the guardian spirit. Mr. Browning commenting on this passage has said: "Suppose the enemies of a man to have thrown down the image and replaced it by a mereTerm, and you have what I put into Stratford's head." "Putting the Genius on the pedestal usurped by the Term means—or tries to mean—substituting eventually the true notion of Strafford's endeavor and performance in the world for what he conceives to be the ignoble and distorted conception of these by his contemporary judge."
Page 90.BocafoliandPlara.
"Purely supposititious poets. Browning chooses to invent them as types of two opposite poetic defects; Bocafoli as the writer of stark-naked or totally jejune and inartistic psalms: Plara as the writer of petted and over-finikin sonnets." [W. M. Rossetti.]
Page 101.Patron-friend. Walter Savage Landor.
Page 101.Eyebright.
"Stands for 'Euphrasia,' its Greek equivalent, and refers to one of Mr. Browning's oldest friends," Miss Euphrasia Fanny Haworth. [Mrs. Orr.]
Page 129.Asolo.
It is interesting to note the choice of scene forPippa Passesin view of the dedicatory letter of Browning's latest volumeAsolando. In a letter written on his first journey to Italy he speaks of "delicious Asolo."
Page 137.
Kate? The Cornaro doubtless, who renouncedThe crown of Cyprus to be lady hereAt Asolo.
Kate? The Cornaro doubtless, who renouncedThe crown of Cyprus to be lady hereAt Asolo.
Kate? The Cornaro doubtless, who renouncedThe crown of Cyprus to be lady hereAt Asolo.
Kate? The Cornaro doubtless, who renounced
The crown of Cyprus to be lady here
At Asolo.
Caterina Cornaro, the daughter of a wealthy and noble citizen of Venice, was born in 1454.In 1471 she married the king of Cyprus. He died the next year and for seven years Caterina was nominal queen, but Venice compelled her at the end of that time to resign, and gave her for residence Castle Asolo.
Page 138.Bluphocks.
The curious Biblical scholia on this character is Browning's own. It is said that the name was simply another way of spelling Blue Fox, a slang-phrase for the Edinburgh Review.
Page 168.The Laboratory.
Which is the poison to poison her, prithee?
D. G. Rossetti's first water-color was an illustration of this poem, and bore beneath it this line.
Page 169.Cristina.
The Cristina of this poem is fashioned after Cristina Maria, daughter of Francis I., King of the Two Sicilies. She was born in 1806; was married in 1829 to Ferdinand VII. King of Spain; became Regent in 1833, on the death of the king; and in 1843 her daughter ascended the throne as Isabel II. Her life was given to intrigue, and to the use of tyrannical power. She was hated by those she ruled, and despised by them because of her personal character.
Page 175.A Toccata of Galuppi's.
Baldassere Galuppi was born near Venice in 1706, and died in Venice in 1785. He was in London for three or four years, and was a most prolific composer.
Page 176.You're wroth—can you slay your snake like Apollo?
In a volume of selections from his poem, revised by Browning himself, occurs the following note on this line, by the poet.
"A word on the line about Apollo the snake-slayer, which my friend Professor Colvin condemns, believing that the god of the Belvedere grasps no bow, but the ægis, as described in the 15th Iliad. Surely the text represents that portentous object (θοῦριν, δεινήν, ἀμφιδάσειαν, ἀριπρεπέ'—μαρμαρέην) as 'shaken violently' or 'held immovably' by both hands, not a single one, and that the left hand:—
ἀλλὰ σύ γ' ἐν χείρεσσι λάβ' αἰγίδα θυσανόεσσαντὴν μάλ' ἐπίσσείων φοβέειν ἤρωας Ἀχαιούς.
ἀλλὰ σύ γ' ἐν χείρεσσι λάβ' αἰγίδα θυσανόεσσαντὴν μάλ' ἐπίσσείων φοβέειν ἤρωας Ἀχαιούς.
ἀλλὰ σύ γ' ἐν χείρεσσι λάβ' αἰγίδα θυσανόεσσαντὴν μάλ' ἐπίσσείων φοβέειν ἤρωας Ἀχαιούς.
ἀλλὰ σύ γ' ἐν χείρεσσι λάβ' αἰγίδα θυσανόεσσαν
τὴν μάλ' ἐπίσσείων φοβέειν ἤρωας Ἀχαιούς.
and so on, τὴν ἄρ' ὃ γ' ἐν χείρεσσιν ἔχων—χερσὶν ἔχ' ἀτρέμα, κ.τ.λ. Moreover, while he shook it he 'shouted enormously,' σεῖσ', ἐπὶ δ' αὐτὸς αὔσε μαλά μέγα, which the statue does not. Presently when Teukros, on the other side, plies the bow, it is τόξον ἔχων ἐν χειρὶ παλίντονον. Besides, by the act of discharging an arrow, the right arm and hand are thrown back as we see,—a quite gratuitous and theatrical display in the case supposed. The conjecture of Flaxman that the statue was suggested by the bronze Apollo Alexikakos of Kalamis, mentioned by Pausanias, remains probable; though the 'hardness' which Cicero considers to distinguish the artist's workmanship from that of Muron is not by any means apparent in our marble copy, if it be one.—Feb. 16, 1880."
Page 181.
The last four lines of the ninth section ofSaulwhich ended the first part inBells and Pomegranates, were as follows, 1845:—
"On one head the joy and the pride, even rage like the throeThat opes the rock, helps its glad labor, and lets the gold go—And ambition that sees a man lead it—oh, all of these—allCombine to unite in one creature—Saul!"
"On one head the joy and the pride, even rage like the throeThat opes the rock, helps its glad labor, and lets the gold go—And ambition that sees a man lead it—oh, all of these—allCombine to unite in one creature—Saul!"
"On one head the joy and the pride, even rage like the throeThat opes the rock, helps its glad labor, and lets the gold go—And ambition that sees a man lead it—oh, all of these—allCombine to unite in one creature—Saul!"
"On one head the joy and the pride, even rage like the throe
That opes the rock, helps its glad labor, and lets the gold go—
And ambition that sees a man lead it—oh, all of these—all
Combine to unite in one creature—Saul!"
Page 191.Respectability.
"These two unconventional Bohemian lovers," says Professor Corson, "strolling together at night, at their own sweet will, see down the court along which they are strolling, three lampions flare, which indicate some big place or other where the respectables do congregate; and the woman says to the companion, with a humorous sarcasm, Put forward your best foot! that is, we must be very correct passing along here in this brilliant light. By the lovers are evidently meant George Sand (the speaker) and Jules Sandeau, with whom she lived in Paris, after she left her husband, M. Dudevant. They took just such unconventional night-strolls together, in the streets of Paris."
Page 194.The Guardian Angel.
The picture which Browning describes, calledL' Angelo Custode, is in the church of St. Augustine at Fano; and it "represents an angel standing with outstretched wings by a little child. The child is half-kneeling on a kind of pedestal, while the angel joins its hands in prayer; its gaze is directed upwards towards the sky, from which cherubs are looking down." It is not regarded as one of his chief pictures, but it interested Browning because of the subject, and its simple pathos.
Page 194.Alfred, dear friend.
Alfred Domett, the hero ofWaring, an early friend of Browning, and at the time living in New Zealand. Mrs. Orr writes: "When he read the apostrophe to 'Alfred, dear friend,' he had reached the last line before it occurred to him that the person invoked could be he."
Page 254.Instans Tyrannus.
The title of this poem was suggested by Horace's ode, III. iii. 1. beginning
Justum et tenacem propositi virum,Non civium ardor prava jubentiumNon vultus instantis tyranni.
Justum et tenacem propositi virum,Non civium ardor prava jubentiumNon vultus instantis tyranni.
Justum et tenacem propositi virum,Non civium ardor prava jubentiumNon vultus instantis tyranni.
Justum et tenacem propositi virum,
Non civium ardor prava jubentium
Non vultus instantis tyranni.
Page 264.Waring.
Alfred Domett, son of Nathaniel Domett, was born at Camberwell Grove, Surrey, May 20, 1811. His father was a seaman under Nelson, and a gallant sailor. Alfred entered St. John's College, Cambridge, in 1829; but after a residence of three years he left without graduation. His attention was early turned to literature, and in 1832 he published a volume of poems. He also contributed toBlackwood's Magazinevarious lyrics which attracted attention to him as a rising poet. One of these wasA Christmas Hymn, which is the best known of all his poems, and has been highly praised. It may be found in several poetical collections, and among themFestival Poems. In 1839, in the same magazine, he published a poem onVenice.
Domett was called to the bar in 1841, and lived in the Middle Temple with Joseph Arnold, who became Chief Justice of Bombay.He was handsome and attractive, well received in society, and a favorite with his literary friends. Before this, however, he had spent two years in travelling in America, including a winter in the backwoods of Canada; and then two years more in Switzerland, Italy, and other Continental countries. In 1842 he was persuaded to go to New Zealand by his cousin, William Young, whose father was a large land owner there, in connection with the New Zealand Company. In May, 1842, he went out to that colony among the earliest settlers. It was immediately after his departure that Browning wrote hisWaring, which describes his friend very accurately, and the circumstances of his sudden absence from London. On arriving in New Zealand, Domett found that his cousin had just been drowned. He settled in the county of Wairoa, on the North Island. InThe Guardian AngelBrowning addressed him:—
"Where are you, dear old friend?How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end?"
"Where are you, dear old friend?How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end?"
"Where are you, dear old friend?How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end?"
"Where are you, dear old friend?
How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end?"
Soon after his arrival Domett was made a magistrate with a salary of £700 a year. Before leaving England Domett was permanently lamed by an accident to one of his legs, which saved his life soon after he reached the colony, for it prevented his accepting the invitation of some treacherous native chiefs to a banquet at which all the English guests were killed. In hisNarrative of the Wairou Massacre, 1843, he described this event.
In 1848 he was made the Colonial Secretary for the southern part of the North Island; and in 1851 he was also appointed the Civil Secretary for the whole of New Zealand, holding both offices until the introduction of the new constitution, in 1853. Having resigned these offices, he accepted one of more work and less remuneration, as Commissioner of Crown Lands, and Resident Magistrate at Hawke's Bay; and of this district he had virtually the sole official management. In 1859 he represented the town of Nelson in the House of Representatives, and he was reëlected the following year.
In 1862, at a critical moment in the affairs of New Zealand, Domett was called upon to form a new government, which he successfully accomplished, becoming the Prime Minister.
In 1871, Domett returned to London, and took up his residence at Phillimore Terrace, Kensington; and afterwards at St. Charles's Square, North Kensington. He had married a handsome English lady while yet a resident in New Zealand. He saw much of Browning; he became an interested member of the Browning Society, and one of its vice-presidents. "His grand white head," says Mr. F. J. Furnivall, "was to be seen at all the Society's performances and at several of its meetings. He naturally preferred Mr. Browning's early works to the later ones. He could not be persuaded to write any account of his early London days. Mr. Domett produced with pride his sea-stained copy of Browning'sBells and Pomegranates. A sterling, manly, independent nature was Alfred Domett's. He impressed every one with whom he came in contact, and is deeply regretted by his remaining friends."
In 1872 Domett published in London hisRanolf and Amohia, a South-Sea Day Dream, a poem descriptive of New Zealand, its scenery, and the legends and habits of the Maori inhabitants. This poem was afterwards revised, enlarged, and published in two volumes. In 1877 appeared a volume of his short poems, including those published before he went to New Zealand, under the title ofFlotsam and Jetsam, Rhymes Old and New. [G. W. Cooke.]
Page 280.
He settled Hoti's business—let it be!Properly based Oun—,Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De.
He settled Hoti's business—let it be!Properly based Oun—,Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De.
He settled Hoti's business—let it be!Properly based Oun—,Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De.
He settled Hoti's business—let it be!
Properly based Oun—,
Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De.
—Hotiis the Greek particle ὅτι, that, etc.—Ounis the Greek particle οὖν, then, now then, etc.—The enclitic Deis the Greek δε, which Browning refers to in a letter to the LondonDaily Newsof Nov. 21, 1874: "To the Editor: Sir,—In a clever article this morning you speak of 'the doctrine of enclitic De'—'which, with all deference to Mr. Browning, in point of fact does not exist.' No, not to Mr. Browning: but pray defer to Herr Buttmann, whose fifth list of 'enclitics' ends with 'the inseparableDe'—or to Curtius, whose fifth list ends also with 'De(meaning "towards" and as a demonstrative appendage).' That this is not to be confounded with the accentuated 'De, meaningbut' was the 'doctrine' which the Grammarian bequeathed to those capable of receiving it.—I am, sir, yours obediently, R. B."
Page 287.Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came.
In an article describing a visit to the poet, Rev. John W. Chadwick speaks of this tapestry and Mr. Browning's comments on the poem:—
"Upon the lengthwise wall of the room, above the Italian furniture, sombre and richly carved, was a long, wide band of tapestry, on which I thought I recognized the miserable horse of Childe Roland's pilgrimage:—
"'One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,Stood stupefied, however he came there:Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!'
"'One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,Stood stupefied, however he came there:Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!'
"'One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,Stood stupefied, however he came there:Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!'
"'One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,
Stood stupefied, however he came there:
Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!'
I asked Mr. Browning if the beast of the tapestry was the beast of the poem; and he said yes, and descanted somewhat on his lean monstrosity. But only a Browning could have evolved the stanzas of the poem from the woven image. I further asked him if he had said that he only wroteChilde Rolandfor its realistic imagery, without any moral purpose,—a notion to which Mrs. Sutherland Orr has given currency; and he protested that he never had. When I asked him if constancy to an ideal—'He that endureth to the end shall be saved'—was not a sufficient understanding of the central purpose of the poem, he said, 'Yes, just about that.'"
Page 337.Artemis Prologizes.
Mrs. Orr prints in herHandbooka note from Browning with reference to the attacks upon him for the form he adopted in the printing of Greek names. It is in reply to an article in theNineteenth Century, for January, 1886, written by Mr. Frederick Harrison. "I have just noticed," wrote Browning, "in this month'sNineteenth Centurythat it is inquired by a humorous objector to the practice of spelling (under exceptional conditions) Greek proper names as they are spelled in Greek literature, why the same principle should not be adopted by Ægyptologists, Hebraists, Sanscrittists, Aceadians, Moabites, Hittites, and Cuneiformists? Adopt it by all means whenever the particular language enjoyed by any fortunate possessor of these shall, like Greek, have been for about three hundred years insisted upon in England, as an acquisition of paramount importance at school and college, for every aspirant to distinction in learning, even at the cost of six or seven years' study—a sacrifice considered well worth making for even an imperfect acquaintance with the most perfect language in the world. Further, it will be adopted whenever the letters substituted for those in ordinary English use shall do no more than represent to the unscholarly what the scholar accepts without scruple, when, for the hundredth time, he reads the word which, for once, he has occasion to write in English, and which he concludes must be as euphonic as the rest of a language renowned for euphony. And finally, the practice will be adopted whenever the substituted letters effect no sort of organic change, so as to jostle the word from its pride of place in English verse or prose. 'Themistokles' fits in quietly everywhere, with or without the 'k;' but in a certain poetical translation I remember by a young friend, of theAnabasis, beginning thus felicitously, 'Cyrus the Great and Artaxerxes (Whose temper bloodier than a Turk's is) Were children both of the mild, pious, And happy monarch King Darius;who fails to see that, although a correct 'Kuraush' may pass, yet 'Darayavash' disturbs the metre as well as the rhyme? It seems, however, that 'Themistokles' may be winked at; not so the 'harsh and subversive "Kirke."' But let the objector ask somebody with no knowledge to subvert, how he supposes 'Circe' is spelled in Greek, and the answer will be, 'With a softc.' Inform him that no such letter exists, and he guesses, 'Then withs, if there be anything like it.' Tell him that to eye and ear equally, his ownkanswers the purpose, and you have at all events taught him that much, if little enough—and why does he live unless to learn a little!" This note is signed "R. B." Its date is January 4, 1886.
Page 341.Johannes Agricola in Meditation.
"'Antinomians, so denominated for rejecting the Law as a thing of no use under the Gospel dispensation: they say, that good works do not further, nor evil works hinder salvation; that the child of God cannot sin, that God never chastiseth him, that murder, drunkenness, etc., are sins in the wicked but not in him, that the child of grace being once assured of salvation, afterwards never doubteth, ... that God doth not love any man for his holiness, that sanctification is no evidence of justification, etc. Pontanus, in hisCatalogue of Heresies, says John Agricola was the author of this sect,A. D.1535.'Dictionary of all Religions, 1704."
"Browning," says Mr. Cooke, "does not correctly represent the teachings of Agricola, though his poem is correct so far as many Antinomians are concerned. Agricola held that the Law and the Gospel are incompatible, that the Law is only for the Jew, and that the spirit of Christ abolishes it for the Christian. The moral obligations, however, he held were for the Christian as much as for any other person. In the New Testament he found all the principles and motives necessary to give true impulse and guidance to the Christian. It was the use made of his teachings by fanatics which cast an odium on the name of Antinomians; and it is this fanatical and sentimental religion which Browning has interpreted correctly in his poem. Many of the Antinomians taught what is attributed to them in theDictionary of all Religions, from which Browning quoted when his poem was first published."
Page 348.The Bishop Orders His Tomb.
"I know no other piece of modern English, prose or poetry, in which there is so much told, as in these lines, of the Renaissance spirit,—its worldliness, inconsistency, pride, hypocrisy, ignorance of itself, love of art, of luxury, and of good Latin. It is nearly all that I said of the central Renaissance in thirty pages of theStones of Venice, put into as many lines, Browning's being also the antecedent work. The worst of it is that this kind of concentrated writing needs so much solution before the reader can fairly get the good of it, that people's patience fails them, and they give the thing up as insoluble; though, truly, it ought to be to the current of common thought like Saladin's talisman, dipped in clear water, not soluble altogether, but making the element medicinal." [John Ruskin.]
Page 387.Is not his love at issue still with sin.
In the first edition there followed this line:Closed with and cast and conquered, crucified.
Page 602.Balaustion's Adventure.
Mr. Richard G. Moulton, in theTransactions of the Browning Society, 1890–1891, offers a detailed criticism of Browning's poem as a reproduction of the thought of Euripides, especially in regard to the character of Admetus. The chief points will be found in Berdoe'sThe Browning Cyclopaedia.
Page 699.Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
Of the description of the succession of Roman high priests, Mrs. Orr says: "Mr. Browning desires me to say that he has been wrong in associating this custom with the little temple by the river Clitumnus, which he describes from personal knowledge. That to which the tradition refers stood by the lake of Nemi."
Page 736.Red Cotton Night-Cap Country.
The equivalents in point of fact of names are as follows.
The Firm Miranda = Mellerio Brothers.
St. Rambert = St. Aubin. Joyeux, Joyous-Gard = Lion, Lionesse.
Vire = Caen.
St. Rambertese = St. Aubinese.
Londres = Douvres.
London = Dover. La Roche = Courcelle. Moulieu = Bernières. Villeneuve = Langrune. Pons = Luc. La Ravissante = La Délivrande.
Raimbaux = Bayeux. Morillon = Hugonin. Mirecourt = Bonnechose.
New York = Madrid.
Clairvaux = Tailleville. Gonthier = Bény. Rousseau = Voltaire. Léonce = Antoine.
Of "Firm Miranda, London and New York" = "Mellerio Brothers;" Meller, people say.
Rare Vissante = Dell Yvrande. Aldabert = Regnobert. Eldobert = Ragnobert. Mailleville = Beaudoin. Chaumont = Quelen. Vertgalant = Talleyrand.
Ravissantish = Délivrandish.
Clara de Millefleurs = Anna de Beaupré. Coliseum Street = Miromesnil Street.
Steiner = Mayer. Commerey = Larocy. Sierck = Metz.
Muhlhausen = Debacker. Carlino Centofanti = Miranda di Mongino.
Portugal = Italy.
Vaillant = Mériel.
Thirty-three = Twenty-five.
Beaumont = Pasquier.
Sceaux = Garges.
The "guide" recommended to Miranda was M. Joseph Milsand, who was always at St. Aubin during the bathing season, and who was an old friend of Browning's.
Lac de la Maison Rouge = Jean de la Becquetière. Claise = Vire. Maude = Anne.
Dionysius = Eliezer. Scholastica = Elizabeth.
Twentieth = Thirteenth.
Fricquot = Picot.
Page 802.My Kirkup.
Baron Kirkup, a connoisseur in literature and art, who was numbered among Browning's Florentine friends. He was ennobled by the King of Italy, because of his literary and patriotic services to his country. He discovered a portrait of Dante in the Bargello at Florence.
Page 827.Epilogue.
The poet referred to is Mrs. Browning inWine of Cyprus.
Page 880.Ivàn Ivànovitch.
Mr. Nathan Haskell Dole, the author of aHistory of Russia, and the translator of Tolstoi and other Russian authors, furnishes for Mr. Cooke'sBrowning Guide Bookthe following notes:—
"Averstis about .66 of a mile (3500 feet).—I take it thehighway broad and straight from the Neva's mouth to Moscow's gates of goldmust refer to the legend that when the first railroad was built from one city to the other, the Emperor Nicholas ordered that it should run absolutely straight, himself marking it with a ruler on the map. I do not think the old highway ran straight.—Ivàn Ivànovitchis equivalent to John Johnson, or more correctly Jack Jackson,Ivànbeing the familiar ofIoànn, John. The endingvitch, however, is not exactly an equivalent to son; it really means father.—Droug, more correctly speltdruk(pronounced drook), means friend.—Browning'smotherkincorresponds to the Russianmàtushka, and is an endearing diminutive ofmat, mother; it is always applied to any old peasant woman; it is a familiar form of address, often applied to any woman or even girl.—Vàssili(accented by Browning incorrectly on the first syllable) should be speltVasìli:it is our Basil.—Lukeriais a colloquial form ofGlikeria,Glycera;the proper diminutive isLushaand alsoLushka.—Browning makes one odd mistake in the poem; it would be impossible for the breath to go up straight when the people were riding fast in a Russian sledge.—He speaks oftwin pigeons;the most familiar term of endearment in Russian isgolùbchik, which is the diminutive of the word for pigeon.—Stòpkais the proper diminutive ofStepàn, Stephen; theiomerely represents the sound of thee(as in yelk) with which it is written in Russian.—Popeshould not be with a capital; it simply means priest.—Marphashould be speltMarfa;it is our Martha, but the Russians cannot pronounceth;they represent it byf.—Pomeschìkshould bepomyèschik;it means merely a landed proprietor.—Stàrostais correctly accented; it is the bailiff of a village, also overseer, inspector; it merely means old man (fromstàrost, old age,star, old.)—Kremlinis betterkreml;it is any fortress, but especially the fortress of Moscow.—Kàtiais the diminutive ofYekaterìna, Katherine.—Kòlokolis pronounced as though it were two syllables, accent on the first.—I am not certain about the correctness ofTeriòscha. It should have no c: nor shouldStèscha."
Page 899.Pietro of Abano.