Chapter 22

1869-1880

"I am strong in the spirit, deep-thoughted, clear-eyed; I could walk, step for step, with an angel beside, On the heaven-heights of truth. Oh, the soul keeps its youth

* * * * *

"'Twixt the heavens and the earth _can_ a poet despond? O Life, O Beyond, Thou art strange, thou art sweet!"

IN SCOTLAND WITH THE STORYS--BROWNING'S CONVERSATION--AN AMUSING INCIDENT--WITH MILSAND AT ST. AUBIN'S--"RED COTTON NIGHT-CAP COUNTRY"--ROBERT BARRETT BROWNING'S GIFT FOR ART--ALFRED DOMETT ("WARING")--"BALAUSTION'S ADVENTURE"--BROWNING AND TENNYSON-- "PACCHIAROTTO"--VISITS JOWETT AT OXFORD--DECLINES LORD RECTORSHIP OF ST. ANDREWS--"LA SAISIAZ"--ITALY REVISITED--THE DREAM OF ASOLO-- "IVANOVITCH"--PRIDE IN HIS SON'S SUCCESS--"DRAMATIC IDYLLS."

In the summer of 1869 the Storys, with their daughter, came from Rome and joined Browning with his sister and his son, for a holiday in Scotland. They passed some time at a little inn on Loch Achnault, where Lady Marian Alford also came, and there are still vivid reminiscences of picnic lunches on the heather, and of readings by the poet from "The Ring and the Book." Chapters from "Rob Roy" also contributed to the enjoyment of evenings when the three ladies of the party--Mrs. Story, Lady Marian, and the lovely young girl, Miss Edith Story--were glad to draw a little nearer to the blazing fire which, even in August, is not infrequently to be desired in Scotland. Lord Dufferin was also a friend of those days, and for the tower he had built at Clandeboye in the memory of his mother, Helen, Countess of Gifford, Browning wrote, soon after, his poem entitled "Helen's Tower." Mrs. Orr speaks of this poem as little known, and not included in his published works; but it is now to be found in all the complete editions of Browning. After this Arcadian sojourn Browning and his son, with Miss Browning, were the guests of Lady Ashburton at Loch Luichart Lodge.

For two or three years after the publication of "The Ring and the Book," Browning wrote little. The demands of friends and of an always enormous correspondence occupied much time; his son was growing into young manhood, and already manifesting his intense love of art, and his gifts as both painter and sculptor.

Browning's conversation was always fascinating. It was full of glancing allusion, wit, sparkle, and with that constant undertone of significance that may be serious or gay, but which always lingers with a certain impressiveness to haunt the mind of the listener. Dr. Hiram Corson, who may perhaps be regarded as Browning's greatest interpreter, speaks of one of his visits to the poet, in London, where the conversation turned from Shelley to Shakespeare. "He spoke with regret of the strangely limited reading of the Plays, even by those who believe themselves habitual and devoted readers," says Dr. Corson.

"At luncheon," continues Dr. Corson, "his talk was, as usual with him, rapid and off-hand. He gave but a _coup d'oeil_ to every subject that came up. In all subsequent talks with him, I never got the slightest impression from him of pride of intellect, though his was certainly one of the subtlest and most comprehensive intellects of his time. He was absolutely free from it; was saved from it by his spiritual vitality. His intellectual and his spiritual nature jointly operated. Nor did he ever show to me any pride of authorship; never made any independent allusion to his poetry. One might have supposed that his poetry, great and extensive as it was, was a parergon, a by-work, with him.

"I have no recollection of any saying of his, such as might be recorded for its wisdom or profundity. Never a brilliant thought crystallized in a single sentence. His talk was especially characterized by its cordiality and rapid flow. The 'member of society' and the poet seemed to be quite distinct.

"One day when Mrs. Corson and I were lunching with him in Warwick Crescent," said Dr. Corson, "he told us a most amusing incident. On that morning Browning was particularly 'an embodied joy.' He told several good stories, one of which showed that the enigmatical character attributed to his poetry by some of his critics was to him a good joke. I have no doubt he must have enjoyed the Douglas Jerrold story, that Jerrold, in endeavoring to read 'Sordello,' thought he had lost his mind.

"But to Browning's story. He said, 'I was visited by the Chinese minister and his attachés, without having been previously informed of their coming. Before they entered, I had noticed from my window a crowd in the street, which had been attracted by the celestials in their national rigs, who were just then getting out of their carriages, I not knowing then what manner of visitors I was to have. Soon the interpreter announced at the drawing-room door, "His Excellency, the Chinese Minister and his attachés." As they entered, the interpreter presented them, individually, first, of course, his Excellency, the Minister, and then the rest in order of rank. It was quite an impressive occasion. Recovering myself, I said to the interpreter: "To what am I indebted for this great honor?" He replied: "You are a distinguished poet in your country, and so is his Excellency in his." We did obeisance to each other. I then asked the character of his Excellency's poetry. The interpreter replied, "Chiefly poetical enigmas." Grasping his Excellency's hand, I said, "I salute you as a brother."'

"Browning told this story while walking up and down the room. When he said, 'I salute you as a brother,' he made the motion of a most hearty hand-shake."

Mrs. Arthur Bronson, than whom Mr. Browning never had a more sympathetic and all-comprehending friend, said that if she tried to recall Robert Browning's words it was as though she had talked to a being apart from other men. "My feeling may seem exaggerated," she smiled, "but it was only natural, when considering my vivid sense of his moral and intellectual greatness. His talk was not abstruse and intricate, like some of his writings. Far from it. As a rule he seemed rather to avoid deep and serious subjects. There was no loss, for everything he chose to say was well said. A familiar story, grave or gay, when clothed with his words, and accentuated by his expressive gestures and the mobility of his countenance, had all the charm of novelty; while a comic anecdote from his lips sparkled with wit, born of his own keen sense of humor. I found in him that most rare combination of a powerful personality united to a nature tenderly sympathetic."

Another who knew him well perpetrated the _mot_ that "Tennyson hides behind his laurels, and Browning behind the man of the world." Henry James, whose gift of subtle analysis was never more felicitously revealed than in his expressions about Browning, declared that the poet had two personalities: one, the man of the world, who walked abroad, talked, did his duty; the other, the Poet,--"an inscrutable personage,--who sat at home and knew, as well he might, in what quarters of that sphere to look for suitable company. The poet and the man of the world were disassociated in him as they can rarely elsewhere have been."

For three or four summers after this sojourn in Scotland the Brownings were at St. Aubin, in Brittany, where they had a cottage "not two steps away" from that of his friend Milsand. In the early mornings Browning would be seen pacing the sands, reading from his little Greek copy of Homer; and in the late afternoons the two friends would stroll on the Normandy beach with their arms around each other's shoulders. They are described as very different in appearance,--Browning vigorous and buoyant, Milsand nervous, thin, reserved,--but akin in a certain delicate sensitiveness, a swift susceptibility to impressions. Of Browning Milsand said that what he really valued most was his kindness, his simple, open, radiant goodness. "All the chords of sympathy vibrated in his strong voice," added Milsand. The French critic was very fond of the poet's son, and in reference to him he once said: "The father has reason to be happy that in walking before he has opened a path for his son, instead of making him stumble." As has been seen, in Mrs. Browning's letters, she always shared her husband's enthusiasm for Milsand, and the latter had said that he felt in her "that shining superiority always concealing itself under her unconscious goodness and lovely simplicity."

On Sundays at St. Aubin's, Browning frequently accompanied Milsand to the little chapel of Château-Blagny, for Protestant worshipers. From his cottage Browning could gaze across the bay to the lighthouse at Havre, and he "saw with a thrill" the spot where he once passed a summer with his wife.

Italian recollections sometimes rose before his inner vision. To Isa Blagden, who had gone to Siena, he wrote that he could "see the fig-tree under which Ba sat, reading and writing, poor old Landor's oak opposite."

Of Milsand he wrote to a friend: "I never knew or shall know his like among men," and to Milsand, who had assisted him in some proof-reading, he wrote acknowledging his "invaluable assistance," and said:

"The fact is, in the case of a writer with my peculiarities and habits, somebody quite ignorant of what I may have meant to write, and only occupied with what is really written, ought to supervise the thing produced. I won't attempt to thank you, dearest friend.... The poem will reach you in about a fortnight. I look forward with all confidence and such delight to finding us all together again in the autumn. All love to your wife and daughter. R. B."

Milsand, writing of Browning in the _Revue_, revealed his high appreciation of the poet when he said: "Browning suggests a power even greater than his achievement. He speaks like a spirit who is able to do that which to past centuries has been almost impossible."

It was St. Aubin that furnished Browning with material for his poem, "Red Cotton Night-cap Country," the title of which was suggested by Miss Thackeray (now Lady Ritchie) who had a cottage there one summer, near those of Browning and Milsand. Browning and his sister occupied one of the most primitive of cottages, but the location was beautiful, perched on the cliff of St. Aubin, and commanded a changeful panorama of sea and sky. "The sitting-room door opened to the garden and the sea beyond--a fresh-swept bare floor, a table, three straw chairs, one book upon the table,--the only book he had with him. The bedrooms were as bare as the sitting-room, but there was a little dumb piano standing in a corner, on which he used to practice in the early morning. Mr. Browning declared they were perfectly satisfied with their little house; that his brains, squeezed as dry as a sponge, were only ready for fresh air."[12] As all Browning readers will remember, "Red Cotton Night-cap Country" is dedicated to Miss Thackeray.

In the succeeding autumn Browning passed some weeks at Fontainebleau, where he was absorbed in reading Æschylus, and in making an especial study of the great dramatist. It was perhaps at this time that he conceived the idea of translating the Agamemnon, which, he says in his preface, "was commanded of me by my venerated friend Thomas Carlyle, and rewarded it will be if I am permitted to dignify it by the prefatory insertion of his dear and noble name."

Before the close of this year Browning had also complied with a request from Tauchnitz to prepare for publication a selection from the poems of Mrs. Browning. This Tauchnitz Edition of Mrs. Browning will always retain its interest as representing her husband's favorites among her poems. "The Rhyme of the Duchess May," with its artistic symmetry and exquisite execution, was of course included. This poem may be said to exhibit all Mrs. Browning's poetic characteristics.

Encouraged by Millais, Robert Barrett Browning had seriously entered on the study of painting, his first master being M. Heyermans in Antwerp. In 1875 Frederick Lehmann had expressed high appreciation of a work of the young artist, the study of a monk absorbed in reading a book,--a picture that he liked so well as subsequently to purchase it. Another picture by Barrett Browning was entitled "The Armorer," and found a place in the Royal Academy of that year, and was purchased by a Member of Parliament who was also something of a connoisseur in art. In this season was inaugurated the annual "private view" of the paintings of the poet's son, which were exhibited in a house in Queen's Gate Gardens and attracted much attention. In his son's success Browning took great pride and pleasure. On the sale of the picture to the M. P., Browning wrote to Millais:

19, WARWICK CRESCENT, May 10, 1878.

MY BELOVED MILLAIS,--You will be gladdened in the kind heart of you to learn that Pen's picture has been bought by Mr. Fielder, a perfect stranger to both of us. You know what your share has been in his success, and it cannot but do a world of good to a young fellow whose fault was never that of being insensible to an obligation.

Ever Affectionately Yours,

ROBERT BROWNING.[13]

In 1871 Browning had been appointed Life Governor of the University of London, an honor that he particularly appreciated as indicating the interest of students in his poetry. In the late winter of 1872, after an absence of thirty years, Alfred Domett again appeared. He had vanished

"like a ghost at break of day,"

and like a ghost he returned, calling at once on his friend in Warwick Crescent. A letter from Miss Browning to Domett explains itself:

19, WARWICK CRESCENT,

UPPER WESTBOURNE TERRACE, Feb. 1872.

MY DEAR MR. DOMETT,--My brother was so sorry to miss you yesterday; he is a man of many engagements, and unfortunately is engaged every evening next week, or I would ask you to join our family dinner as soon as possible--but meanwhile, as he is impatient to see you, will you be very kind and come to lunch with us on Monday at one o'clock? We shall be delighted to meet you. If you cannot come on Monday, name some other morning.

Always Yours Truly,

SARIANNA BROWNING.

The old friendship between Browning and Domett was renewed with constant intercourse and interchange of delightful letters. Milsand was in the habit of passing a part of every spring with Browning in his home in Warwick Crescent, and with the arrival of Domett a warm and sincere friendship united all three.

Once, in Scotland, as the guest of Ernest Benzon, when Browning missed part of a visit from Milsand, the poet said: "No words can express the love I have for Milsand, increasingly precious as he is." The Benzons were at that time in the hills above Loch Tummel, where Jowett was staying, Swinburne also with the Master of Balliol. Had there been a phonograph to register the conversation of such a trio as Jowett, Browning, and Swinburne, its records would be eagerly sought.

A fragmentary record, indeed, remains in a note made by Edwin Harrison, who was with Jowett at this time. In his diary Mr. Harrison recorded:

"R. B. was in the neighborhood, staying at Little Milton, above Loch Tummel, where he was perpetrating 'Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau' at the rate of so many lines a day, neither more nor less. He walked over to see Jowett one afternoon, very keen about a fanciful rendering he had imagined for lines in the Alcestis. A few evenings later we met him and his son at dinner at Altaine House, by the foot of the loch. You may be sure that where Jowett and Browning were, the conversation was animated and interesting."

In "Balaustion's Adventure" the poet seemed to take captive the popular appreciation of the day, for more than three thousand copies had been sold within the first six months, and his sister told Domett that she regarded it as the most swiftly appreciated poem of all her brother's works. Certainly it is one of the most alluring of Browning's works,--this delightful treatment of the interwoven life of mortals and of the immortal gods.

The June of 1872 brought to Browning the sad news of the death of his wife's dearest friend, Isa Blagden. "A little volume of Isabella Blagden's poems was published after her death," writes Thomas Adolphus Trollope. "They are not such as would take the world by storm, but it is impossible to read them without perceiving how choice a spirit their author must have been, and understanding how she was especially honored with the friendship of Mrs. Browning."[14]

On the publication of "Red Cotton Night-cap Country," Browning sent a first copy to Tennyson, and the Laureate's son says of it: "Among the lines which my father liked were

'Palatial, gloomy chambers for parade, And passage lengths of lost significance';

and he praised the simile about the man with his dead comrade in the lighthouse. He wrote to Mr. Browning: 'My wife has just cut the leaves. I have yet again to thank you, and feel rather ashamed that I have nothing of my own to send you back.'"

An entry in Tennyson's diary in the following December notes: "Mr. Browning dined with us. He was very affectionate and delightful. It was a great pleasure to hear his words,--that he had not had so happy a time for a long while as since we have been in town."

Tennyson's "Queen Mary" was published in 1875, and on receiving a copy from the author Browning wrote expressing thanks for the gift, and even more for "Queen Mary the poem." He found it "astonishingly fine"; and he adds: "What a joy that such a poem should be, and be yours." The relations between the two great poets of the Victorian age were always ideally beautiful, in their cordial friendship and their warm mutual appreciation.

In a note dated in the Christmas days of 1876 Browning writes:

MY DEAR TENNYSON,--True thanks again, this time for the best of Christmas presents, another great work, wise, good, and beautiful. The scene where Harold is overborne to take the oath is perfect, for one instance. What a fine new ray of light you are entwining with your many-colored wreath!...

All happiness befall you and yours this good season and ever.[15]

The present Lord Tennyson, in his biography of his father, makes many interesting allusions to the friendship and the pleasant intercourse between the poets. "Browning frequently dined with us," he says, "and the _tête-à-tête_ conversations between him and my father on every imaginable topic were the best talk I have ever heard, so full of repartee, epigram, anecdote, depth, and wisdom, too brilliant to be possible to reproduce. These brother poets were two of the most widely read men of their time, absolutely without a touch of jealousy, and reveling, as it were, in each other's power.... Browning had a faculty for absurd and abstruse rhymes, and I recall a dinner where Jebb, Miss Thackeray, and Browning were all present, and Browning said he could make a rhyme for every word in the language. We proposed rhinoceros, and without pause he said,

'O, if you should see a rhinoceros And a tree be in sight, Climb quick, for his might Is a match for the gods,--he can toss Eros.'"

A London friend relates that on one occasion Browning chanced upon a literal translation some one had made from the Norwegian:

"The soul where love abideth not resembles A house by night, without a fire or torch,"

and remarked how easy it would be to put this into rhyme; and immediately transmuted it into the couplet,

"What seems the soul when love's outside the porch? A house by night, without a fire or torch."

When Browning's "Inn Album" appeared, and he sent a copy to Tennyson, the Laureate responded:

"MY DEAR BROWNING,--You are the most brotherly of poets, and your brother in the muses thanks you with the affection of a brother. She would thank you too, if she could put hand to pen."

Tennyson once remarked to his son, Hallam, that he wished he had written Browning's lines:

"The little more, and how much it is, The little less, and what worlds away."

There was an interval of twelve years between the appearance of the "Dramatis Personæ" (in 1864) and the publication of "Pacchiarotto." In this collection Browning's amusing play of rhyme is much in evidence. Among Mr. Browning's most enjoyable experiences were his frequent visits to Oxford and Cambridge, in both of which he was an honored guest. In the spring of 1877 he had an especially delightful stay at Oxford, the pleasure even beginning on the train, "full of men, all my friends," he wrote of it; and continued: "I was welcomed on arrival by a Fellow who installed me in my rooms--then came the pleasant meeting with Jowett, who at once took me to tea with his other guests, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, the Dean of Westminster, Lord Airlie, and others."

There was a banquet and much postprandial eloquence that night, and Browning mentions among the speakers Lord Coleridge, Professor Smith, Mr. Green (on science and literature with a most complimentary appreciation of Browning), and "a more rightly-directed one," says the poet, "on Arnold, Swinburne, and the old pride of Balliol, Clough, which was cleverly and almost touchingly answered by dear Matthew Arnold." The Dean of Westminster responded to the toast of "The Fellows and the Scholars," and the entire affair lasted over six hours. "But the whole thing," said Browning, "was brilliant, genial, and there was a warmth, earnestness, and refinement about it which I never experienced in any previous public dinner."

The profound impression that Browning made both by his personality and his poetic work is further attested by his being again chosen Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow. Dr. William Knight, the Professor of Moral Philosophy at St. Andrews, urges Browning's acceptance of this office, and begs the poet to realize "how the thoughtful youth of Scotland" estimate his work. Professor Knight closes by saying that his own obligations to Browning, "and to the author of 'Aurora Leigh' are such that of them silence is golden." While Mr. Browning was deeply touched by this testimonial of esteem, he still, for the second time, declined the honor.

Many readers and lovers of Robert Browning's poem "La Saisiaz" little dream of the singular story connected with it. "La Saisiaz" is a chalet above Geneva, high up in the Savoyard mountains, looking down on Geneva and Lake Leman. It is a tall, white house, with a red roof that attracted the lovers of beauty, solitude, and seclusion. Among the few habitués for many years were Robert Browning and his sister, Sarianna, and their friend, Miss Egerton-Smith. It was the bond of music that especially united Browning and this lady, and in London they were apt to frequent concerts together. "La Saisiaz" is surrounded by tall poplar trees, but the balcony from a third-floor window, which was Browning's room, looked through a space in the trees out on the blue lake, and on this balcony he would draw out his chair and writing desk. Back of the chalet a steep path ran up the mountains, where the three friends often climbed, to enjoy a gorgeous and unrivaled sunset spectacle.

In 1877 they were all there as usual in August, and one evening had planned that the next day they would start early in the morning and pass the day on the mountain, going by carriage, a servant accompanying them carrying the basket of luncheon. In the early evening Browning and Miss Egerton-Smith were out, pacing up and down the "grass-grown path," and talking of the infinite life which includes death and that which is beyond death. The next morning she did not appear, and Browning and his sister waited for her. They sat out on the terrace after having morning coffee, expecting to see the "tall white figure," and finally Miss Browning went to her room to ask if she were ill, and she lay dead on the floor. Miss Egerton-Smith was buried in the neighboring cemetery of Collonge, where her grave, over which a wonderful willow tree bends, is still seen--a place of frequent pilgrimage to visitors in this region. Five days after her death Browning made the excursion up the mountain alone,

"But a bitter touched its sweetness, for the thought stung 'Even so Both of us had loved and wondered just the same, five days ago!'"

La Salève, the mountain overlooking the Arve and the Rhone Valley, is one of the most wildly picturesque points in all the Alpine region. The chalet of "La Saisiaz" was perched on this mountain spur, about half-way up the mountain, on a shelving terrace, with vast and threatening rocks rising behind. The poem called "La Saisiaz" is one of Browning's greatest. It is full of mystical questioning and of his positive and radiant assertions of faith; it abounds in vivid and exquisite scenic effects, and it has the personal touches of tenderness. The morning after her death is thus pictured:

"No, the terrace showed no figure, tall, white, leaning through the wreaths, Tangle-twine of leaf and bloom that intercept the air one breathes."

Browning and Miss Egerton-Smith had first met in Florence. She was an English lady of means (being part proprietor of the _Liverpool Mercury_) and of a reserve of temperament which kept her aloof from people in general. With the poet and his sister she was seen in all that cordial sweetness of her nature which her sensitive reserve veiled from strangers.

Italy again! A sapphire sky bending over hills and peaks and terraces swimming in violet shadows; villas, and sudden views, and arching _pianterreni_, and winding roads between low stone walls hidden in their riotous overgrowth of roses! And the soft air, the tall black cypresses against the sky, the sunsets and the stars, and golden lights, and dear Italian phrases! The trailing ivy vines all in a tangle; the wayside shrine, the vast white monastery perched on an isolated mountain top; the flaming scarlet of the poppies in the grass, the castles and battlements dimly caught on the far horizon,--the poetry, the loveliness, the ineffable beauty of Italy! Seventeen years had passed since that midsummer day when the dear form of his "Lyric Love" had been laid under the Florentine lilies, when Browning, in the spring of 1878, returned to his Italy. What dreams and associations thronged upon him!

"Places are too much, Or else too little for immortal man,--

* * * * *

... thinking how two hands before Had held up what is left to only one."

Seventeen years had passed, but Venice, the ethereal city, the mystic dream of sea and sky, was unchanged, and, however unconsciously, the poet was now to initiate another era, another new "state" in his life. He never again went farther south than Venice; he could never see Florence or Rome again, where _she_ had lived beside him; but the dream city now became for him a second and dearer home. With his sister Sarianna, he broke the journey by lingering in a hotel on the summit of the Splügen, where he indulged himself in those long walks which he loved, Miss Browning often accompanying him down the Via Cala Mala, or to the summit where they could look down into Lombardy. Browning was at work on his "Dramatic Idyls," and not only "Ivan Ivanovitch," but several others were written on the Splügen. Pausing at Lago di Como, and a day in Verona, they made their way to Asolo, "my very own of all Italian cities," the poet would say of it. Asolo, which from its rocky hilltop, has an outlook over all Veneto,--over all Italy, it would almost seem, for the towers and domes of Venice are visible on a clear day,--gave its full measure of joy to Browning, and when they descended into Venice they were domiciled in the Palazzo Brandolin-Rota, on the Grand Canal, near the Accademia. In Venice he met a Russian lady whom he consulted about some of the names he was giving to the characters in his "Ivan Ivanovitch."

The success of his son in the Paris Salon and other exhibitions was a continual happiness to Mr. Browning. Both in Paris and in London the pictures of Barrett Browning were accorded an honorable place "on the line"; he received a medal from the Salon, and there was not wanting, either, that commercial side of success that sustains its theory. The young artist had now seriously entered on sculpture, under Rodin, with much prestige and promise.

The first series of "Dramatic Idyls" was published in the autumn of 1872, closely following "La Saisiaz" and the "Two Poets of Croisic." The devoted student of Browning could hardly fail to be impressed by one feature of his poetry which, though a prominent one, has received little attention from the critics. This feature is his doctrine of the sub-self, as the source of man's highest spiritual knowledge. He has given his fullest expression of this belief in his "Paracelsus," and it appears in "Sordello" (especially in the fifth book), in "A Death in the Desert," in "Fifine," and in "Christopher Smart," and is largely developed in "The Ring and the Book." Again, in "Beatrice Signorini," contained in "Asolando," published only on the day of his death, this theory is again apparent, and these instances are only partial out of the many in which the doctrine is touched or elaborated, showing how vital it was with him from the earliest to the latest period of his work. Another striking quality in Browning is that of the homogeneous spirit of his entire poetic expression. It is the great unity in an equally great variety. It is always clear as to the direction in which Browning is moving, and as to the supreme message of his philosophy of life.