Chapter I: Morning (2)

_Luigi._ And such grace have they, now that the world ends!
The Python at the city, on the throne,
And brave men, God would crown for slaying him, 225
Lurk in by-corners lest they fall his prey.
Are crowns yet to be won in this late time,
Which weakness makes me hesitate to reach?
Tis God's voice calls; how could I stay? Farewell!

_Talk by the way, while_ PIPPA _is passing from the Turret to the Bishop's Brother's House, close to the Duomo S. Maria. Poor_ Girls _sitting on the steps._

_1st Girl._ There goes a swallow to Venice--the stout seafarer!
Seeing those birds fly makes one wish for wings.
Let us all wish; you wish first!

_2nd Girl._ I? This sunset
To finish.

_3rd Girl._ That old--somebody I know,
Grayer and older than my grandfather, 5
To give me the same treat he gave last week--
Feeding me on his knee with fig-peckers,
Lampreys and red Breganze-wine, and mumbling
The while some folly about how well I fare,
Let sit and eat my supper quietly: 10
Since had he not himself been late this morning,
Detained at--never mind where--had he not--
"Eh, baggage, had I not!"--

_2nd Girl._ How she can lie!

_3rd Girl._ Look there--by the nails!

_2nd Girl._ What makes your fingers red?

_3rd Girl._ Dipping them into wine to write bad words with 15
On the bright table: how he laughed!

_1st Girl._ My turn.
Spring's come and summer's coming. I would wear
A long loose gown, down to the feet and hands,
With plaits here, close about the throat, all day;
And all night lie, the cool long nights, in bed; 20
And have new milk to drink, apples to eat,
Deuzans and junetings, leather-coats--ah, I should say,
This is away in the fields--miles!

_3rd Girl._ Say at once
You'd be at home--she'd always be at home!
Now comes the story of the farm among 25
The cherry orchards, and how April snowed
White blossoms on her as she ran. Why, fool,
They've rubbed the chalk-mark out, how tall you were,
Twisted your starling's neck, broken his cage,
Made a dunghill of your garden!

_1st Girl._ They destroy 30
My garden since I left them? Well--perhaps
I would have done so--so I hope they have!
A fig-tree curled out of our cottage wall;
They called it mine, I have forgotten why,
It must have been there long ere I was born: 35
_Cric_--_cric_--I think I hear the wasps o'erhead
Pricking the papers strung to flutter there
And keep off birds in fruit-time--coarse long papers,
And the wasps eat them, prick them through and through.

_3rd Girl._ How her mouth twitches! Where was I?--before 40
She broke in with her wishes and long gowns
And wasps--would I be such a fool!--Oh, here!
This is my way: I answer everyone
Who asks me why I make so much of him--
(If you say, "you love him"--straight "he'll not be gulled!") 45
"He that seduced me when I was a girl
Thus high--had eyes like yours, or hair like yours,
Brown, red, white"--as the case may be; that pleases!
See how that beetle burnishes in the path!
There sparkles he along the dust; and, there-- 50
Your journey to that maize-tuft spoiled at least!

_1st Girl._ When I was young, they said if you killed one
Of those sunshiny beetles, that his friend
Up there would shine no more that day nor next.

_2nd Girl._ When you were young? Nor are you young, that's true. 55
How your plump arms, that were, have dropped away!
Why, I can span them. Cecco beats you still?
No matter, so you keep your curious hair.
I wish they'd find a way to dye our hair
Your color--any lighter tint, indeed, 60
Than black--the men say they are sick of black,
Black eyes, black hair!

_4th Girl._ Sick of yours, like enough.
Do you pretend you ever tasted lampreys
And ortolans? Giovita, of the palace,
Engaged (but there 's no trusting him) to slice me 65
Polenta with a knife that had cut up
An ortolan.

_2nd Girl._ Why, there! Is not that Pippa
We are to talk to, under the window--quick!--
Where the lights are?

_1st Girl._ That she? No, or she would sing,
For the Intendant said--

_3rd Girl._ Oh, you sing first! 70
Then, if she listens and comes close--I'll tell you--
Sing that song the young English noble made,
Who took you for the purest of the pure,
And meant to leave the world for you--what fun!

_2nd Girl_ [_sings_].

_You'll love me yet!--and I can tarry_ 75
_Your love's protracted growing:_
_June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,_
_From seeds of April's sowing._

_I plant a heartful now: some seed_
_At least is sure to strike_ 80
_And yield--what you'll not pluck indeed,_
_Not love, but, may be, like._

_You'll look at least on love's remains,_
_A grave's one violet:_
_Your look?--that pays a thousand pains._ 85
_What's death? You'll love me yet!_

_3rd Girl_ [_to_ PIPPA, _who approaches._] Oh, you may
come closer--we shall not eat you! Why, you seem the
very person that the great rich handsome Englishman has
fallen so violently in love with. I'll tell you all about it. 90

IV.--NIGHT

SCENE.--_Inside the Palace by the Duomo._ MONSIGNOR, _dismissing his_ Attendants.

_Monsignor._ Thanks, friends, many thanks! I chiefly
desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you.
Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?
_Benedicto benedicatur_--ugh, ugh! Where was
I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is 5
mild, very unlike winter weather; but I am a Sicilian, you
know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when
'twas full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross
in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you
might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in 10
two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves
in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [_To the_
Intendant.] Not you, Ugo! [_The others leave the apartment._]
I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.

_Intendant._ Uguccio-- 15

_Monsignor._ ... 'guccio Stefani, man! of Ascoli,
Fermo and Fossombruno--what I do need instructing
about are these accounts of your administration of my
poor brother's affairs. Ugh! I shall never get through a
third part of your accounts; take some of these dainties 20
before we attempt it, however. Are you bashful to that
degree? For me, a crust and water suffice.

_Intendant._ Do you choose this especial night to question
me?

_Monsignor._ This night, Ugo. You have managed my 25
late brother's affairs since the death of our elder brother
--fourteen years and a month, all but three days. On
the Third of December, I find him--

_Intendant._ If you have so intimate an acquaintance
with your brother's affairs, you will be tender of turning 30
so far back: they will hardly bear looking into, so far back.

_Monsignor._ Aye, aye, ugh, ugh--nothing but disappointments
here below! I remark a considerable payment
made to yourself on this Third of December. Talk
of disappointments! There was a young fellow here, 35
Jules, a foreign sculptor I did my utmost to advance, that
the Church might be a gainer by us both; he was going
on hopefully enough, and of a sudden he notifies to me
some marvelous change that has happened in his notions
of Art. Here's his letter: "He never had a clearly conceived 40
Ideal within his brain till today. Yet since his hand
could manage a chisel, he has practiced expressing other
men's Ideals; and, in the very perfection he has attained
to, he foresees an ultimate failure: his unconscious hand
will pursue its prescribed course of old years, and will 45
reproduce
with a fatal expertness the ancient types, let the
novel one appear never so palpably to his spirit. There
is but one method of escape: confiding the virgin type to
as chaste a hand, he will turn painter instead of sculptor,
and paint, not carve, its characteristics"--strike out, I 50
dare say, a school like Correggio: how think you, Ugo?

_Intendant._ Is Correggio a painter?

_Monsignor._ Foolish Jules! and yet, after all, why
foolish? He may--probably will--fail egregiously; but
if there should arise a new painter, will it not be in some 55
such way, by a poet now, or a musician (spirits who have
conceived and perfected an Ideal through some other
channel), transferring it to this, and escaping our conventional
roads by pure ignorance of them; eh, Ugo? If
you have no appetite, talk at least, Ugo! 60

_Intendant._ Sir, I can submit no longer to this course
of yours. First, you select the group of which I formed
one--next you thin it gradually--always retaining me
with your smile--and so do you proceed till you have
fairly got me alone with you between four stone walls. 65
And now then? Let this farce, this chatter, end now;
what is it you want with me?

_Monsignor._ Ugo!

_Intendant._ From the instant you arrived, I felt your
smile on me as you questioned me about this and the 70
other article in those papers--why your brother should
have given me this villa, that _podere_--and your nod at
the end meant--what?

_Monsignor._ Possibly that I wished for no loud talk
here. If once you set me coughing, Ugo!-- 75

_Intendant._ I have your brother's hand and seal to all I
possess: now ask me what for! what service I did him--ask me!

_Monsignor._ I would better not: I should rip up old
disgraces, let out my poor brother's weaknesses. By the 80
way, Maffeo of Forli (which, I forgot to observe, is
your true name), was the interdict ever taken off you,
for robbing that church at Cesena?

_Intendant._ No, nor needs be; for when I murdered
your brother's friend, Pasquale, for him-- 85

_Monsignor._ Ah, he employed you in that business,
did he? Well, I must let you keep, as you say, this villa
and that _podere_, for fear the world should find out my
relations were of so indifferent a stamp? Maffeo, my family
is the oldest in Messina, and century after century 90
have my progenitors gone on polluting themselves with
every wickedness under heaven: my own father--rest his
soul!--I have, I know, a chapel to support that it may
rest; my dear two dead brothers were--what you know
tolerably well; I, the youngest, might have rivaled them 95
in vice, if not in wealth: but from my boyhood I came
out from among them, and so am not partaker of their
plagues. My glory springs from another source; or if
from this, by contrast only--for I, the bishop, am the
brother of your employers, Ugo. I hope to repair some 100
of their wrong, however; so far as my brother's ill-gotten
treasure reverts to me, I can stop the consequences
of his crime--and not one _soldo_ shall escape me. Maffeo,
the sword we quiet men spurn away, you shrewd knaves
pick up and commit murders with; what opportunities 105
the virtuous forego, the villainous seize. Because, to
pleasure myself, apart from other considerations, my
food would be millet-cake, my dress sackcloth, and my
couch straw--am I therefore to let you, the offscouring
of the earth, seduce the poor and ignorant by appropriating 110
a pomp these will be sure to think lessens the abominations
so unaccountably and exclusively associated with
it? Must I let villas and _poderi_ go to you, a murderer
and thief, that you may beget by means of them other
murderers and thieves? No--if my cough would but 115
allow me to speak!

_Intendant._ What am I to expect? You are going to punish me?

_Monsignor._ Must punish you, Maffeo. I cannot
afford to cast away a chance. I have whole centuries of
sin to redeem, and only a month or two of life to do it in. 120
How should I dare to say--

_Intendant._ "Forgive us our trespasses"?

_Monsignor._ My friend, it is because I avow myself a
very worm, sinful beyond measure, that I reject a line of
conduct you would applaud perhaps. Shall I proceed, 125
as it were, a-pardoning?--I?--who have no symptom
of reason to assume that aught less than my strenuousest
efforts will keep myself out of mortal sin, much less
keep others out. No: I do trespass, but will not double
that by allowing you to trespass. 130

_Intendant._ And suppose the villas are not your
brother's to give, nor yours to take? Oh, you are hasty
enough just now!

_Monsignor._ 1, 2--No. 3!--aye, can you read the substance
of a letter, No. 3, I have received from Rome? It 135
is precisely on the ground there mentioned, of the suspicion
I have that a certain child of my late elder brother, who
would have succeeded to his estates, was murdered in
infancy by you, Maffeo, at the instigation of my late
younger brother--that the Pontiff enjoins on me not 140
merely the bringing that Maffeo to condign punishment,
but the taking all pains, as guardian of the infant's heritage
for the Church, to recover it parcel by parcel, howsoever,
whensoever, and wheresoever. While you are now
gnawing those fingers, the police are engaged in sealing 145
up your papers, Maffeo, and the mere raising my voice
brings my people from the next room to dispose of yourself.
But I want you to confess quietly, and save me raising
my voice. Why, man, do I not know the old story?
The heir between the succeeding heir, and this heir's 150
ruffianly instrument, and their complot's effect, and the
life of fear and bribes and ominous smiling silence? Did
you throttle or stab my brother's infant? Come now!

_Intendant._ So old a story, and tell it no better?
When did such an instrument ever produce such an 155
effect? Either the child smiles in his face, or, most likely,
he is not fool enough to put himself in the employer's
power so thoroughly; the child is always ready to produce--as
you say--howsoever, wheresoever, and whensoever.

_Monsignor._ Liar! 160

_Intendant._ Strike me? Ah, so might a father chastise!
I shall sleep soundly tonight at least, though the gallows
await me tomorrow; for what a life did I lead! Carlo of
Cesena reminds me of his connivance, every time I pay
his annuity; which happens commonly thrice a year. If I 165
remonstrate, he will confess all to the good bishop--you!

_Monsignor._ I see through the trick, caitiff! I would
you spoke truth for once. All shall be sifted, however--seven
times sifted.

_Intendant._ And how my absurd riches encumbered 170
me! I dared not lay claim to above half my possessions.
Let me but once unbosom myself, glorify Heaven, and die!

Sir, you are no brutal, dastardly idiot like your brother
I frightened to death: let us understand one another. Sir,
I will make away with her for you--the girl--here close 175
at hand; not the stupid obvious kind of killing; do not
speak--know nothing of her nor of me! I see her every
day--saw her this morning. Of course there is to be no
killing; but at Rome the courtesans perish off every three
years, and I can entice her thither--have indeed begun 180
operations already. There's a certain lusty, blue-eyed,
florid-complexioned English knave I and the Police employ
occasionally. You assent, I perceive--no, that's not
it--assent I do not say--but you will let me convert my
present havings and holdings into cash, and give me time 185
to cross the Alps? Tis but a little black-eyed, pretty
singing Felippa, gay, silk-winding girl. I have kept her
out of harm's way up to this present; for I always intended
to make your life a plague to you with her. 'Tis
as well settled once and forever. Some women I have 190
procured will pass Bluphocks, my handsome scoundrel,
off for somebody; and once Pippa entangled!--you
conceive? Through her singing? Is it a bargain?

[_From without is heard the voice of_ PIPPA, _singing._

_Overhead the tree-tops meet,_
_Flowers and grass spring 'neath one's feet;_ 195
_There was naught above me, naught below,_
_My childhood had not learned to know:_
_For, what are the voices of birds_
_--Aye, and of beasts--but words, our words,_
_Only so much more sweet?_ 200
_The knowledge of that with my life begun._
_But I had so near made out the sun,_
_And counted your stars, the seven and one;_
_Like the fingers of my hand:_
_Nay, I could all but understand_ 205
_Wherefore through heaven the white moon ranges;_
_And just when out of her soft fifty changes_
_No unfamiliar face might overlook me--_
_Suddenly God took me._

[PIPPA _passes._

_Monsignor_ [_springing up_]. My people--one and 210
all--all-within there! Gag this villain--tie him hand and
foot! He dares--I know not half he dares--but
remove him--quick! _Miserere mei, Domine!_ Quick, I say!

SCENE.--PIPPA'S _chamber again. She enters it._

The bee with his comb,
The mouse at her dray,
The grub in his tomb,
While winter away;
But the firefly and hedge-shrew and lobworm, I pray, 5
How fare they?
Ha, ha, thanks for your counsel, my Zanze!
"Feast upon lampreys, quaff Breganze"--
The summer of life so easy to spend,
And care for tomorrow so soon put away! 10
But winter hastens at summer's end,
And firefly, hedge-shrew, lobworm, pray,
How fare they?
No bidding me then to--what did Zanze say?
"Pare your nails pearlwise, get your small feet shoes 15
More like"--what said she?--"and less like canoes!"
How pert that girl was!--would I be those pert,
Impudent, staring women! It had done me,
However, surely no such mighty hurt
To learn his name who passed that jest upon me: 20
No foreigner, that I can recollect,
Came, as she says, a month since, to inspect
Our silk-mills--none with blue eyes and thick rings
Of raw-silk-colored hair, at all events.
Well, if old Luca keep his good intents, 25
We shall do better, see what next year brings!
I may buy shoes, my Zanze, not appear
More destitute than you perhaps next year!
Bluph--something! I had caught the uncouth name
But for Monsignor's people's sudden clatter 30
Above us--bound to spoil such idle chatter
As ours; it were indeed a serious matter
If silly talk like ours should put to shame
The pious man, the man devoid of blame,
The--ah, but--ah, but, all the same, 35
No mere mortal has a right
To carry that exalted air;
Best people are not angels quite:
While--not the worst of people's doings scare
The devil; so there's that proud look to spare! 40
Which is mere counsel to myself, mind! for
I have just been the holy Monsignor:
And I was you too, Luigi's gentle mother,
And you too, Luigi!--how that Luigi started
Out of the turret--doubtlessly departed 45
On some good errand or another,
For he passed just now in a traveler's trim,
And the sullen company that prowled
About his path, I noticed, scowled
As if they had lost a prey in him. 50
And I was Jules the sculptor's bride,
And I was Ottima beside,
And now what am I?--tired of fooling.
Day for folly, night for schooling!
New Year's day is over and spent, 55
Ill or well, I must be content.
Even my lily's asleep, I vow:
Wake up--here's a friend I've plucked you!
Call this flower a heart's-ease now!
Something rare, let me instruct you, 60
Is this, with petals triply swollen,
Three times spotted, thrice the pollen;
While the leaves and parts that witness
Old proportions and their fitness,
Here remain unchanged, unmoved now; 65
Call this pampered thing improved now!
Suppose there's a king of the flowers
And a girl-show held in his bowers--
"Look ye, buds, this growth of ours,"
Says he, "Zanze from the Brenta, 70
I have made her gorge polenta
Till both cheeks are near as bouncing
As her--name there's no pronouncing!
See this heightened color too,
For she swilled Breganze wine 75
Till her nose turned deep carmine;
'Twas but white when wild she grew.
And only by this Zanze's eyes
Of which we could not change the size,
The magnitude of all achieved 80
Otherwise, may be perceived."

Oh, what a drear, dark close to my poor day!
How could that red sun drop in that black cloud?
Ah, Pippa, morning's rule is moved away,
Dispensed with, never more to be allowed! 85
Day's turn is over, now arrives the night's.
O lark, be day's apostle
To mavis, merle, and throstle,
Bid them their betters jostle
From day and its delights! 90
But at night, brother owlet; over the woods,
Toll the world to thy chantry;
Sing to the bats' sleek sisterhoods
Full complines with gallantry:
Then, owls and bats, 95
Cowls and twats,
Monks and nuns, in a cloister's moods,
Adjourn to the oak-stump pantry!
[_After she has began to undress herself._
Now, one thing I should like to really know:
How near I ever might approach all these 100
I only fancied being, this long day--
Approach, I mean, so as to touch them, so
As to--in some way ... move them--if you please,
Do good or evil to them some slight way.
For instance, if I wind 105
Silk tomorrow, my silk may bind
[_Sitting on the bedside._
And border Ottima's cloak's hem.
Ah me, and my important part with them,
This morning's hymn half promised when I rose!
True in some sense or other, I suppose. 110
[_As she lies down._
God bless me! I can pray no more tonight.
No doubt, some way or other, hymns say right.
_All service ranks the same with God--_
_With God, whose puppets, best and worst,_
_Are we; there is no last nor first._ 115

[_She sleeps._

NOTES

SONGS FROM PARACELSUS

The poem _Paracelsus_ is divided into five parts, each of which describes an important period in the experience of Paracelsus, the celebrated German-Swiss physician, alchemist, and philosopher of the sixteenth century. Book I tells of the eagerness and pride with which he set out in his youth to compass all knowledge; he believed himself commissioned of God to learn Truth and to give it to mankind. Books II and III show him followed and idolized by multitudes to whom he imparts the fragments of knowledge he has gained. But though these fragments seem to his disciples the sum and substance of wisdom, his own mind is preoccupied with a desolating certainty that he has hardly touched on the outer confines of truth. In Book IV, after experiencing the ingratitude of his fickle adherents, he is represented as abjuring the dreams of his youth. At this point comes the first of the three songs given in the text. He builds an imaginary altar on which he offers up the aspirations, the hopes, the plans, with which he had begun his career.

SONG I

1-3. _Cassia_ is an unidentified fragrant plant; the wood of the _sandal_ tree is also fragrant; _labdanum_ or _ladanum_, is a resinous gum of dark color and pungent odor, exuding from various species of the cistus, a plant found around the Mediterranean; _aloe-balls_ are made from a bitter resinous juice extracted from the leaves of aloe-plants; _nard_ is an ointment made from an aromatic plant and used in the East Indies. These substances have long been traditionally associated in literature. In _Psalms_ xlv, 8 we read: "All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad." Milton in _Paradise Lost_, v, 293, speaks of "flowering odors, cassia, nard, and balms."

4. _Such balsam_. The meaning of II. 4-8 is obscure. "Sea-side mountain pedestals" are presumably cliffs. In the tops of the trees on these cliffs the wind, weary of its rough work on the ocean, has gently dropped the fragrant things it has swept up from the island.

9-16. In this stanza the faint sweetness from the spices used in embalming, and the perfume still clinging to the tapestry in an ancient royal room carry suggestions of vanished power and beauty that add an appropriate pathos to the richly piled altar on which Paracelsus is to offer up the "lovely fancies" of his youth. "Shredded" is a transferred epithet, referring really to "arras," but transferred to the perfume of the arras.

SONG II. (Book IV)

When Paracelsus confesses the failure of his pursuit of absolute knowledge, his friend Festus urges him to redeem the past by making new use of what he has gained; but Paracelsus has no courage to attempt a reorganization of his life in accordance with a new ideal. His answer to Festus is the second of the three songs. He afterwards calls it,

"The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung
To their first fault and withered in their pride."

The song is a beautiful and clear allegory, vivid in its pictures, rapid and musical.

SONG III. (Book V)

In Book V Paracelsus is described as lying ill in the Hospital of St. Sebastian. Festus is endeavoring to divert the current of his dying friend's fierce, delirious thoughts into a gentler channel. He brings up one picture after another of the early happy life of Paracelsus, and dwells on the grandeur of his mind and achievements, and on the fame that shall be his. But the desired peace comes only when Festus sings the song of the river Mayne beside which their youth had been spent. At the end of the song Paracelsus exclaims,

"My heart! they loose my heart, those simple words;
Its darkness passes which naught else could touch."

The Mayne, or Main, is the most important of the right-hand tributaries of the Rhine. Wurzburg, where Festus and Paracelsus had been as students, is on its banks. Its University was especially noted for its medical department. Mr. Stopford Brooke (_The Poetry of Robert Browning_, p. 99) says of this lovely lyric: "I have driven through that gracious country of low hill and dale and wide water-meadows, where under flowered banks only a foot high the slow river winds in gentleness; and this poem is steeped in the sentiment of the scenery. But, as before, Browning quickly slides away from the beauty of inanimate nature into a record of the animals that haunt the streams. He could not get on long with mountains and rivers alone. He must people them with breathing, feeling things; anything for life!"

CAVALIER TUNES

These three, stirring songs represent the gay, reckless loyalty of the Cavaliers to the cause of King Charles I and their contempt for his Puritan opposers. The Puritans wore closely cropped hair; hence the Parliament which came together in 1640 and was controlled by the opponents of the King, is dubbed "crop-headed." John Pym and John Hampden were leaders in the struggle against the tyranny of the King. Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Sir Henry Vane were also adherents of Oliver Cromwell. Rupert, Prince of the Palatinate, was a nephew of Charles I and was a noted cavalry leader on the royal side during the Civil War. The followers of the King unfurled the royal standard at Nottingham in August, 1642; Kentish Sir Byng raised a troop and hurried on to join the main royal army. In September occurred the battle of Edgehill. The "Noll" (l. 16 of "Give a Rouse") is Oliver Cromwell. The third song was entitled originally "My Wife Gertrude." It was she who held the castle of Brancepeth against the Roundheads.

THE LOST LEADER

This poem indignantly records a poet's defection from the cause of progress and liberty. Who this poet might be was for some time a matter of conjecture. Wordsworth, Southey, and Charles Kingsley, all of whom had gone from radicalism in their youth to conservatism in their old age, were severally proposed as the original of Browning's portrait. The poem was published in 1845, two years after Wordsworth was made poet laureate. Early in 1845 Wordsworth was presented at court, a proceeding which aroused comment--sometimes amused, sometimes indignant--from those who recalled the poet's early scorn of rank and titles. Browning and Miss Barrett exchanged several gay letters on this subject in May, 1845. In commenting on a letter from Miss Martineau describing Wordsworth in his home in 1846, Browning wrote, "Did not Shelley say long ago, 'He had no more imagination than a pint-pot'--though in those days he used to walk about France and Flanders like a man. _Now_, he is 'most comfortable in his worldly affairs' and just this comes of it! He lives the best twenty years of his life after the way of his own heart--and when one presses in to see the result of his rare experiment--what the _one_ alchemist whom fortune has allowed to get all his coveted materials and set to work at last with fire and melting pot--what he produces after all the talk of him and the like of him; why, you get _pulvis et cinis_--a man at the mercy of the tongs and shovel." In later life, however, Browning spoke of Wordsworth in a different tone. In a letter to Mr. Grosart, written Feb. 24, 1875, he said, "I have been asked the question you now address me with, and as duly answered, I can't remember how many times. There is no sort of objection to one more assurance, or rather confession, on my part, that I _did_ in my hasty youth presume to use the great and venerated personality of Wordsworth as a sort of painter's model; one from which this or the other particular feature may be selected and turned to account. Had I intended more--above all such a boldness as portraying the entire man--I should not have talked about 'handfuls of silver and bits of ribbon.' These never influenced the change of politics in the great poet--whose defection, nevertheless, accompanied as it was by a regular face-about of his special party, was, to my private apprehension, and even mature consideration, an event to deplore. But, just as in the tapestry on my wall I can recognize figures which have _struck out_ a fancy, on occasion, that though truly enough thus derived, yet would be preposterous as a copy; so, though I dare not deny the original of my little poem, I altogether refuse to have it considered as the 'very effigies' of such a moral and intellectual superiority." For an interesting parallelism in theme, see Whittier's "Ichabod."

20. _Whom._ The reference is to the lower classes, whom the Liberals were endeavoring to rouse to aspiration and action. The Conservatives opposed such beginnings of independence.

29. _Best fight on well._ It is the deserting leader who is exhorted to fight well. Though it is pain to have him desert their party, they have gloried in his power and it would be an even greater pain to see him weak. They wish him to fight well even though their cause is thereby menaced.

HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX

This poem was written during Mr. Browning's first journey to Italy, in 1838. He sailed from London in a merchant vessel bound for Trieste, on which he found himself the only passenger. The weather was stormy and for the first fortnight Browning was extremely ill. As they passed through the straights of Gibraltar the captain supported him upon deck that he might not lose the sight. Of the Composition of the poem he says, "I wrote it under the bulwark of a vessel off the African coast, after I had been at sea long enough to appreciate even the fancy of a gallop on the back of a certain good horse 'York' there in my stable at home." The poem was written in pencil on the flyleaf of Bartoli's _Simboli_, a favorite book of his. Browning says that there was no sort of historical foundation for the story, but the Pacification of Ghent in 1576 has been suggested as an appropriate background. The incident narrated could naturally belong to the efforts of the united cities of Holland, Zealand, and the Southern Netherlands to combat the tyranny of Philip II.

6. Of this line Miss Barrett wrote: "It drew us out into the night as witnesses."

13. _'Twas moonset._ The distance from Ghent to Aix is something over a hundred miles. The first horse gave out at Hasselt, about eighty miles from Ghent; the second horse failed at Dalhem in sight of Aix. Roland made the whole distance between midnight of one day and sunset of the next. The minute notes of time are for dramatic and picturesque effect rather than as exact indications of progress. Even the towns are not used with the exactness of a guide-book, for Looz and Tongres are off the direct route.

17. _Mecheln._ Flemish for Mechlin. The chimes they heard were probably from the cathedral tower.

41. _Dome-spire._ Over the polygonal monument founded by Charlemagne in Aix-la-Chapelle is a dome 104 feet high and 48 feet in diameter. The reference is probably to this dome.

THE FLOWER'S NAME

This poem and "Sibrandus Schafnaburgensis," a companion poem, appeared in _Hood's Magazine_, July, 1844, under the title of "Garden Fancies." "The Flower's Name" is a description of a garden by a lover whose conception of its beauty is heightened and made vital by the memories it enshrines. Of this poem Miss Barrett wrote to Browning, "Then the 'Garden Fancies'--some of the stanzas about the name of the flower, with such exquisite music in them, and grace of every kind--and with that beautiful and musical use of the word 'meandering,' which I never remember having seen used in relation to sound before. It does to mate with your '_simmering_ quiet' in _Sordello_, which brings the summer air into the room as sure as you read it." (_Letters of R. B. and E. B. B._, I, 134.)

10. _Box._ An evergreen shrub, dwarf varieties of which are used for low hedges or the borders of flower-beds.

MEETING AT NIGHT AND PARTING AT MORNING

These poems were published originally simply as "Night" and "Morning." The second of these love lyrics is somewhat difficult to interpret. If the man is speaking, the "him" in l. 3 must refer to the sun. In any case, after the isolation with the woman he loved as described in the first poem, there comes with the morning a sense of the world of action to which the man must return. The two poems are fully discussed in _Poet-Lore_, Volume VII, April, May, June-July. The poems are noteworthy for the fusion of human emotion and natural scenery and for the startlingly specific phrasing of the first quatrain.

EVELYN HOPE

In this lyric are embodied Browning's faith in personal immortality, his belief in the permanence of true love and in the value of love though unrequited in this world.

34. _What meant._ From this point on through line 52 the lover repeats what he shall say to Evelyn Hope when in the life to come he claims her.

LOVE AMONG THE RUINS

A man is on his way across the fields to a turret where he is to meet the girl he loves. As he walks through the solitary pastures he mentally recreates the powerful life and varied interests of the city which, tradition has it, once occupied this site, and he seems to be absorbed in a melancholy recognition of the evanescence of human glory. The girl is not mentioned till stanza 5. Does the emphasis on the scenery and its historic associations unduly minimize the love element of the poem? Or is the whole picture of vanished joy and woe, pride and defeat, but a background against which stands out more clearly the rapture of the meeting in the ruined turret?

80. _Earth's returns._ This phrase refers to the ruins which are all that now remains of the centuries of folly, noise, and sin. "Them" in l. 81 refers apparently to the "fighters" and the others of the first part of the stanza.

UP AT A VILLA--DOWN IN THE CITY

"It is an admirable piece of work crowded with keen descriptions of Nature in the Casentino, and of life in the streets of Florence. And every piece of description is so filled with the character of the 'Italian person of quality' who describes them--a petulant, humorous, easily angered, happy, observant, ignorant, poor gentleman--that Browning entirely disappears. The poem retains for us in its verse, and indeed in its light rhythm, the childlikeness, the naïveté, the simple pleasures, the ignorance and the honest boredom with the solitudes of Nature--of a whole class of Italians, not only of the time when it was written, but of the present day. It is a delightful, inventive piece of gay and pictorial humor." (Stopford Brooke, _The Poetry of Browning_, p. 322.)

33. _Corn._ In Great Britain the word is generally applied to wheat, rye, oats, and barley, not to maize as in America.

34. _Stinking hemp._ In Chapter I of James Lane Allen's _The Reign of Law_ is the following passage on the odor of the hemp-field: "And now borne far through the steaming air floats an odor, balsamic, startling: the odor of those plumes and stalks and blossoms from which is exuding freely the narcotic resin of the great nettle." When the long swaths of cut hemp lies across the field, the smell is represented as strongest, "impregnating the clothing of the men, spreading far throughout the air." To many this odor is essentially unpleasant.

42. _Pulcinello-trumpet._ Pulcinello was originally the clown in the Neapolitan comedy. Later he became the Punch in Punch and Judy shows. The trumpet announces that one of these puppet plays is to be given in the public square.

43. _Scene-picture._ A picture advertising the new play.

44. _Liberal thieves._ Members of the liberal party, the party striving for Italian independence. The Person of Quality is, of course, of the aristocratic party.

47. _A sonnet._ Laudatory poetical tributes with ornamental borders were posted in public places as a method of doing homage. In this case the unknown "Reverend Don So-and-so" is ranked by his admirer with Dante, Boccaccio, and Petrarch, the greatest Italian poets; with St. Jerome, one of the most celebrated Fathers of the Latin Church; with Cicero, one of the greatest of Roman orators; and with St. Paul, the greatest of Christian preachers.

51. _Our Lady._ The seven swords represent symbolically the seven sorrows of the Virgin Mary, but this Person of Quality regards the gilt swords and the smart pink gowns merely as gay decorations. Religious processions of the sort described here and in lines 60-64 are frequent in European countries.

55. _It's dear._ According to the system of taxation in Italy, town dues must be paid on all provisions brought into the city.

60. _Yellow candles._ Used at funerals and in penitential processions in the Roman Church.

A TOCCATA OF GALUPPI'S

Mrs. Ireland says of this poem: "The Toccata as a form of composition is not the measured, deliberate working-out of some central musical theme as is the Sonata or _sound_-piece. The _Toccata_, in its early and pure form, possessed no decided subject, made such by repetition, but bore rather the form of a capricious Improvisation, or 'Impromptu.'" ("A Toccata of Galuppi's" by Mrs. Alexander Ireland, published in _London Browning Society Papers_.)

1. _Galuppi._ Baldassare Galuppi (1706-1784) was an Italian composer born near Venice. He spent many years in England and Russia. In 1768 he became organist at St. Mark's, Venice.

4. _Your old music._ At the sound of the music Browning imaginatively re-creates the Venetian social life of the eighteenth century.

6. _St. Mark's._ The great cathedral. The Doge of Venice used to throw a ring into the sea from the ship _Bucentaur_ to "denote that the Adriatic was subject to the republic of Venice as a wife is subject to her husband."

8. _Shylock's bridge._ The Rialto, a bridge over the Grand Canal. It has two rows of shops under arcades.

18. _Clavichord._ An instrument with keys and strings, something like a piano.

19-30. The musical terms in these lines show Browning's knowledge of the technicalities of the art. To one without such expert knowledge the exact musical connotation is doubtless obscure. But the epithets and phrases are in themselves sufficient to suggest the varying moods of the Venetian merrymakers. The plaintiveness, the sighs, the sense of death, the trembling hope that life may last, the renewed love-making, the new round of futile pleasures or evil deeds, the end of it all in the grave, are clearly brought forth. An elaborate explanation of the musical terms is given in the notes to the Camberwell edition of Browning's poems.

31. _But when I sit down to reason._ The first thirty lines of the poem have recorded the effect of the music in re-creating in the poet's imagination the gay, careless life of eighteenth century Venice, and its close in death. Now when the poet endeavors to turn from that picture of death lurking under smiles, he finds that the cold music has filled his mind with an inescapable sense of the futility of life, and even his own chosen mental activities seem to him, along with the rest, hardly more than dust and ashes. Ambition and enthusiasm fade before the spell of the music.

OLD PICTURES IN FLORENCE

3. _Aloed arch._ The genus aloe includes trees, shrubs, and herbs. The American variety is the century-plant. Browning's hill-side villa evidently had aloes trained to grow in an arch.

15. _The startling bell-tower Giotto raised._ Giotto began the Campanile in 1334, and after his death in 1337 the work was continued by Andrea Pisano. Its striking beauty impresses the poet as he looks out over the city. But it does more than that, for it rouses in him reflections on the progress and meaning of art.

17-24. The address to Giotto, thrown in here as it is with conversational freedom, is partially explained in lines 184-248. See note on l. 236.

30. _By a gift God grants me._ The power to re-create vividly and minutely the past. The artists of bygone centuries are called back by his imagination to their old haunts in Florence.

44. _Stands One._ The "one" (l. 44), "a lion" (l. 47), "the wronged great soul" (l. 48), and "the wronged great souls" (l. 58), all refer to the unappreciated early artists.

50. _They._ That is, the famous great artists such as Michael Angelo and Raphael. Critics "hum and buzz" around them with praise to which they are indifferent.

59. _Where their work is all to do._ Their place in the development of art is not yet understood. It must be made clear, Browning thinks, that painters like Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519) come in natural succession from earlier obscure artists like Dello, that art is a real and continuous record of the human mind and heart.

67. _The mastiff girns._ When some influential critic snarls, all the imitative inferior critics take the same tone. Cf. Shelley's "Adonais," stanzas 28, 37, 38.

69. _Stefano._ A pupil of Giotto and called "Nature's ape" because his accurate representations of the human body.

72. _Vasari._ Author of _Lives of the Most Eminent Painters and Sculptors_. (Published 1550. Translated by Mrs. Foster in _Bohn's Library_.) In his studies of art Browning made constant use of this book.

76. _Sic transit. Sic transit gloria mundi._ "So passes away the glory of the world."

84. _In fructu._ "As fruit." The fruit of Greek art at its best was that it presented in marble ideally perfect human bodies.

98. _Theseus._ The kingly statue of the reclining Theseus in the frieze of the Parthenon.

99. _Son of Priam._ In the sculptures of Æsina, Paris, the son of Priam, kneeling and drawing his bow, has a grace beyond that of any man who might think to pose as a model.

101. _Apollo._ At Delphi Apollo slew an enormous python.

102. _Niobe._ Through the vengeance of Apollo and Diana, Niobe's seven sons and seven daughters were all slain. In the Imperial Gallery of Florence there is a statue of Niobe clasping her last child.

103. _The Racer's frieze._ In the Parthenon.

104. _The dying Alexander._ A piece of ancient Greek sculpture at Florence.

108. _To submit is a mortal's duty._ The supreme beauty of the statues led men to content themselves with admiration and imitation.

113. _Growth came._ New life came to art when men ceased to rest in the perfect achievement of the past, and found a new realm opened up to them in representing the subtler activities of the soul. Lines 145-152 state the ideals that actuated the new art. The reference is to the religious art of the Italian Renaissance.

115-144. These lines sum up the reasons for the importance of the art that strives "to bring the invisible full into play" (l. 150). It may be rough-hewn and faulty; but it is greater and grander than Greek art because of its greater range, variety, and complexity, and because it reaches beyond any possible present perfection into eternity.

134. _Thy one work ... done at a stroke._ Giotto when asked for a proof of his skill to send to the Pope, drew with one stroke of his brush a perfect circle, whence the proverb, "Rounder than the O of Giotto."

156. _Quiddit._ Quibble. The humorous rhyme "did it--quiddit" is but one of the many whimsical rhyming effects in the poem. The use of a light, semi-jocose form to give the greater emphasis to serious subject-matter is characteristic of Browning. Lowell in "A Fable for Critics" employs the same device.

161-176. Not Browning's usual attitude. Even this poem is a deification of progress through effort, not through repose.

178. _Art's spring-birth._ Nicolo the Pisan and Cimabue lived in the second half of the thirteenth century. From them to Ghiberti (1381-1455), who made the famous bronze doors of the Baptistry at Florence, and Ghirlandajo (1449-1494), a Florentine fresco painter, was a period in which Browning was especially interested. Mrs. Orr says that he owned pictures by all the artists mentioned here.

192. _Italian quicklime._ Many of the fine old Italian fresco paintings have been whitewashed over.

198. _Dree._ The pictures "endure" the doom of captivity. But they might be ferreted out if the ghosts of the old painters would only indicate where the lost works are.

201-224. He does not hope to get pictures of the famous Florentine painters, Bigordi (probably another name for Ghirlandajo), Sandro, Botticelli, Lippino (son of Fra Lippo Lippi), or Fra Angelico. But he might hope for better success in finding pieces by the obscure painters mentioned in lines 205-224. These painters are so described that we know concerning each one, some characteristic quality or work.

206. _Intonaco._ The plaster that forms the ground for fresco work.

214. _Tempera._ A pigment mixed with some vehicle soluble in water instead of with oil as in oil paintings.

218. _Barret._ A kind of cap.

230. _Zeno._ The founder of the sect of Stoics, and hence supposedly not stirred by "naked High Art."

232. _Some clay-cold vile Carlino._ Commercial dealers in art are unmoved by true beauty, but they go into ecstasies over uninspired work like that of Carlino. (Carlo Dólci, 1616-1686.)

236. _A certain precious little tablet._ Mr. Browning wrote to Professor Corson that this was a lost "Last Supper" praised by Vasari. The stanza in which this line occurs explains ll. 17-24.

237. _Buonarroti._ Michael Angelo.

241. _San Spirito_, etc. "Holy Spirit" and "All Saints," old churches in Florence.

244. _Detur amanti._ "Let it be given to the one who loves it."

245. _Koh-i-noor._ A famous Indian diamond presented to Queen Victoria in 1850.

246. _Jewel of Giamschid._ The splendid fabulous ruby of Sultan Giamschid, sometimes called "The Cup of the Sun" and "The Torch of Night." Byron ("The Giaour") says that the dark eyes of Leila were "bright as the jewel of Giamschid." The carbuncle of Giamschid is one of the treasures sought by the Caliph in Beckford's _Caliph Vathek_.

246. _The Persian Sofi._ The Sufi or Sofi is a title or surname of the Shah of Persia.

249. _A certain dotard_, etc. Radetsky (1766-1858) was in 1849-1857 governor of the Austrian possessions in Upper Italy. "The worse side of the Mont St. Gothard" is the Swiss side. "Morello" is a mountain near Florence. There had been frequent insurrections against Austria, but they had been fruitless. Browning prophesies the time when there shall be a great national council (a Witanagemot) by which, when Freedom has been restored to Florence, a new and vigorous Art shall be brought in. It will then be perceived that a monarchy nourishes the false and monstrous in art, and that "Pure Art" must come from the people.

258. _The stone of Dante._ The stone where Dante used to draw his chair out to sit. For this and other references in stanza XXXIV see Mrs. Browning's "Casa Guidi Windows," Part I. In this poem she suggests "a parliament of the lovers of Italy."

260. _Quod videas ante_--"Which you may have seen before."

263. _Hated house._ The poet hates the rule of the House of Lorraine, and prefers the days of the painter Orgagna, in the fourteenth century, when Italy was free.

273. _Tuscan._ The literary language of Italy and not given to superlatives such as are indicated by "_issimo_."

275. _Cambuscan:_ a reference to "The Squire's Tale," left unfinished by Chaucer.

276. _Alt to altissimo._ "High to highest."

277. _Beccaccia._ A woodcock.

281. _Shall I be alive._ According to Giotto's plan the tower was to have had a spire fifty braccia or cubits (about 95 feet) high. This spire has never been built.

"DE GUSTIBUS--"

The whole phrase is _De gustibus non disputandum_--"there is no disputing about tastes." Browning is writing to a friend who prefers an English landscape while the poet himself declares in favor of Italy.

2. _If our loves remain._ If we have a life after death.

4. _A cornfield._ The picture is a field of wheat with red poppies scattered through the wheat.

23. _Cypress._ It is interesting to note how many of the trees, shrubs, flowers, and fruits in Browning's poems are those of southern Europe. His poetry of nature is almost as distinctively Italian as Tennyson's is English. "The Englishman in Italy" is especially rich in vivid, picturesque details of southern scenes.

36. _Liver-wing._ The right wing. The shot hit the king in the right arm.

37. _Bourbon._ Mr. and Mrs. Browning were rejoicing at any indications that the people of Italy were awake to revolt against the Bourbons. See Mrs. Browning's "Casa Guidi Windows" and "First News from Villa Franca" and Mr. Browning's "The Italian in England."

40. _Queen Mary's saying._ For two hundred years Calais had been one of England's most important possessions. It was taken by the French in 1588, the last year of the reign of Queen Mary. What Queen Mary said of Calais, Browning says of Italy.

HOME-THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD

Compare the sentiment of this poem with that of "De Gustibus--" written ten years later. In "Home Thoughts from Abroad" we have one of Browning's rare uses of the scenery of his own country.

14. _That's the wise thrush._ The power of these lines in presenting both the musical and the emotional quality of the bird's song is rivaled only by Wilson Flagg's "The Bobolink" (quoted in John Burroughs's _Birds and Poets_) and Wordsworth's "To the Cuckoo."

HOME-THOUGHTS FROM THE SEA

This poem and the preceding one express two phases of the poet's love of country; his affection for the physical beauty of England, and his pride in her political freedom. In the first poem, he turns, in thought, from the glowing color of Italy, to the more delicate loveliness of England in April; in the second poem, he longs to repay the service his country has rendered him in defeating foreign foes.

"Home-Thoughts from the Sea" was written at the same time and under the same circumstances as "How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." The poet, aboard a vessel coasting along the shore of Africa, could see to the northwest the Portuguese Cape Vincent, near which, in 1797, England won a naval victory over Spain; southeast of Cape Vincent, on the Spanish coast, Cadiz Bay, where, in 1796, England defeated the second Spanish Armada; and southeast of Cadiz Bay, Cape Trafalgar, where, in 1805, Nelson won a famous victory over the allied fleets of France and Spain. To the northeast, the poet could see Gibraltar, the great fortress which England acquired from Spain by the Peace of Utrecht, 1713.

SAUL

1. _Abner._ The cousin of Saul and the commander of his army. _I Samuel_ xiv, 50.

9. _Saul and the Spirit._ For the conflict between Saul and the evil spirit, and the refreshment that came to him when David played, see _I Samuel_ xvi, 14-23.

12. _Gracious gold hair._ For the personal appearance of David, see _I Samuel_ xvi, 12, 18; xvii, 42.

12. _Those lilies ... blue._ Mrs. Coleridge wrote to Mr. Kenyon to know whether Mr. Browning had any authority for "blue lilies." Mr. Browning answered, "Lilies are of all colors in Palestine--one sort is particularized as _white_ with a dark blue spot and streak--the water lily, lotus, which I think I meant, is _blue_ altogether." (_Letters of R. B. and E. B. B._, i, 523, 556.)

31. _The king-serpent._ Probably the boa-constrictor. In poetry the characteristic most often attributed to a snake is malignancy. But in this picture of the serpent lying dormant and waiting for the sloughing of its old skin in the springtime, when it will come forth with new beauty and power, the idea presented is that of tremendous force temporarily in abeyance.