The Complete Works of Robert Browning: Poems, Plays, Letters & Biographies in One Edition. Robert Browning

CHAPTER X

       Table of Contents

      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’œil 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 πάρεργον, 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