Christmas Eve and Easter Day: by Robert Browning.--Chapman and Hall.
1850.
There are occasions when the office of the critic becomes almost
simply that of an expositor; when his duty is not to assert, but to
interpret. It is his privilege to have been the first to study a
subject, and become familiar with it; what remains is to state facts,
and to suggest considerations; not to lay down dogmas. That which he
speaks of is to him itself a dogma; he starts from conviction: his it
is to convince others, and, as far as may be, by the same means as
satisfied himself; to incite to the same study, doing his poor best,
meanwhile, to supply the present want of it.
Thus much, indeed, is the critic's duty always; but he generally
feels the right, and has it, of speaking with authority. He condemns,
or gives praise; and his judgment, though merely individual and
subject to revision, is judgment. Before the certainty of genius and
deathless power, in the contemplation of consummate art, his position
changes: and well for him if he knows, and is contented it should be
so. Here he must follow, happy if he only follows and serves; and
while even here he will not shelve his doubts, or blindly refuse to
exercise a candid discrimination, his demur at unquestioning assent,
far from betraying any arrogance, will be discreetly advanced, and on
clearly stated grounds.
Of all poets, there is none more than Robert Browning, in approaching
whom diffidence is necessary. The mere extent of his information
cannot pass unobserved, either as a fact, or as a title to respect.
No one who has read the body of his works will deny that they are
replete with mental and speculative subtlety, with vivid and most
diversified conception of character, with dramatic incident and
feeling; with that intimate knowledge of outward nature which makes
every sentence of description a living truth; replete with a most
human tenderness and pathos. Common as is the accusation of
"extravagance," and unhesitatingly as it is applied, in a general
off-hand style, to the entire character of Browning's poems, it would
require some jesuitism of self-persuasion to induce any one to affirm
his belief in the existence of such extravagance in the conception of
the poems, or in the sentiments expressed; of any want of
concentration in thought, of national or historical keeping. Far from
this, indeed, a deliberate unity of purpose is strikingly apparent.
Without referring for the present to what are assumed to be perverse
faults of execution--a question the principles and bearing of which
will shortly be considered--assuredly the mention of the names of a
few among Browning's poems--of "Paracelsus," "Pippa Passes," "Luria,"
the "Souls's Tragedy," "King Victor and King Charles," even of the
less perfect achievement, "Strafford"; or, passing to the smaller
poems, of "The Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister," "The Laboratory,"
and "The Bishop orders his Tomb at St. Praxed's";--will at once
realize to the memory of all readers an abstruse ideal never lost
sight of, and treated to the extreme of elaboration. As regards this
point, we address all in any manner acquainted with the poet's works,
certain of receiving an affirmative answer even from those who
"_can't_ read Sordello, or understand the object of writing in that
style."
If so many exceptions to Browning's "system of extravagance" be
admitted,--and we again refer for confirmation or refutation to all
who have sincerely read him, and who, valuing written criticism at
its worth, value also at _its_ worth the criticism of individual
conviction,--wherein are we to seek this extravagance? The groundwork
exempted, the imputation attaches, if anywhere, to the framework; to
the body, if not to the soul. And we are thus left to consider the
style, or mode of expression.
Style is not stationary, or, _in the concrete_, matter of principle:
style is, firstly, national; next, chronological; and lastly,
individual. To try the oriental system by the European, and pronounce
either wrong by so much as it exceeds or falls short, would imply so
entire a want of comprehensive appreciation as can scarcely fail to
induce the conviction, that the two are distinct and independent,
each to be tested on its own merits. Again, were the Elizabethan
dramatists right, or are those of our own day? Neither absolutely, as
by comparison alone; his period speaks in each; and each must be
judged by this: not whether he is true to any given type, but whether
his own type be a true one for himself. And this, which holds good
between nations and ages, holds good also between individuals. Very
different from Shelley's are Wordsworth's nature in description, his
sentiment, his love; Burn's and Keats's different from these and from
each other: yet are all these, nature, and sentiment, and love.
But here it will be urged: by this process any and every style is
pronounced good, so that it but find a measure of recognition in its
own age and country; nay, even the author's self-approval will be
sufficient. And, as a corollary, each age must and ought to reject
its predecessor; and Voltaire was no less than right in dubbing
Shakspere barbarian. That it is not so, however, will appear when the
last element of truth in style, that with which all others combine,
which includes and implies consistency with the author's self, with
his age and his country, is taken into account. Appropriateness of
treatment to subject it is which lies at the root of all controversy
on style: this is the last and the whole test. And the fact that none
other is requisite, or, more strictly, that all others are but
aspects of this one, will very easily be allowed when it is reflected
that the subject, to be of an earnest and sincere ideal, must be an
emanation of the poet's most secret soul; and that the soul receives
teaching from circumstance, which is the time when and place where.
This premised, it must next be borne in mind that the poet's
conception of his subject is not identical with, and, in the majority
of cases, will be unlike, his reader's. And, the question of style
(manner) being necessarily subordinate to that of subject (matter),
it is not for the reader to dispute with the author on his mode of
rendering, provided that should be accepted as embodying (within the
bounds of grammatical logic) the intention preconceived. The object
of the poet in writing, why he attempts to describe an event as
resulting from this cause or this, or why he assumes such as the
effect; all these considerations the reader is competent to
entertain: any two men may deduce from the same premises, and may
probably arrive at different conclusions: but, these conclusions
reached, what remains is a question of resemblance, which each must
determine for himself, as best conscious of his own intention. To
take an instance. Shakspere's conception of Macbeth as a man capable
of uttering a pompous conceit--
("Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin laced with his golden blood--")
in a moment, to him, and to all present, of startling purport, may be
a correct or an impressive conception, or it may be the reverse. That
the rendering of the momentary intention is adequate here there is no
reason to doubt. If so, in what respect is the reader called upon to
investigate a matter of style? He must simply return to the question
of whether this point of character be consistent with others imagined
of the same person; this, answered affirmatively, is an
approval,--negatively, a condemnation, of _intention_; the merit of
_style_, in either case, being mere competence, and that admitted
irrespectively of the reader's liking or disliking of the passage
_per se_, or as part of a context. Why, in this same tragedy of
Macbeth, is a drunken porter introduced between a murder and its
discovery? Did Shakspere really intend him to be a sharp-witted man?
These questions are pertinent and necessary. There is no room for
disputing that this scene is purposely a comic scene: and, if this is
certain, the style of the speech is appropriate to the scene, and of
the scene, to the conception of the drama? Is _that conception_
admirable?
We have entered thus at length on the investigation of adequacy and
appropriateness of style, and of the mode by which entire classes of
disputable points, usually judged under that name, may be reduced to
the more essential element of conception; because it will be almost
invariably found, that a mere arbitrary standard of irresponsible
private predilection is then resorted to. Nor can this be well
guarded against. The concrete, _style_, being assumed as always
constituting an entity auxiliary to, but not of necessity modified
by, and representing subject,--as something substantially
pre-existing in the author's mind or practice, and belonging to him
individually; the reader will, not without show of reason, betake
himself to the trial of personality by personality, another's by his
own; and will thus pronounce on poems or passages of poems not as
elevated, or vigorous, or well-sustained, or the opposite, in idea,
but, according to certain notions of his own, as attractive,
original, or conventional writing.
Thus far as regards those parts of execution which concern human{13}
embodiment--the metaphysical and dramatic or epic faculties. Of style
in description the reader is more nearly as competent a judge as the
writer. In the one case, the poet is bound to realize an idea, which
is his own, and the justness of which, and therefore of the form of
its expression, can be decided only by reasoning and analogy; in the
other, having for his type material phaenomena, he must reproduce the
things as cognizable by all, though not hereby in any way exempt from
adhering absolutely to his proper perception of them. Here, even as
to ideal description or simile, the reader can assert its truth or
falsehood of purpose, its sufficiency or insufficiency of means: but
here again he must beware of exceeding his rights, and of
substituting himself to his author. He must not dictate under what
aspect nature is to be considered, stigmatizing the one chosen,
because his own bent is rather towards some other. In the exercise of
censure, he cannot fairly allow any personal _peculiarities_ of view
to influence him; but will have to decide from common grounds of
perception, unless clearly conscious of short-coming, or of the
extreme of any corresponding peculiarity on the author's part.
{13} In employing the word "human," we would have our intention
understood to include organic spiritualism--the superhuman treated,
from a human _pou sto,_ as ideal mind, form, power, action, &c.
In speaking of the adaptation of style to conception, we advanced
that, details of character and of action being a portion of the
latter, the real point to determine in reference to the former is,
whether such details are completely rendered in relation to the
general purpose. And here, to return to Robert Browning, we would
enforce on the attention of those among his readers who assume that
he spoils fine thoughts by a vicious, extravagant, and involved
style, a few analytical questions, to be answered unbiassed by
hearsay evidence. Concerning the dramatic works: Is the leading idea
conspicuously brought forward throughout each work? Is the language
of the several speakers such as does not create any impression other
than that warranted by the subject matter of each? If so, does it
create the impression apparently intended? Is the character of speech
varied according to that of the speaker? Are the passages of
description and abstract reflection so introduced as to add to
poetic, without detracting from dramatic, excellence? About the
narrative poems, and those of a more occasional and personal quality
the same questions may be asked with some obvious adaptation; and
this about all:--Are the versification strong, the sound sharp or
soft, monotonous, hurried, in proportion to the requirement of sense;
the illustrative thoughts apt and new; the humour quaint and
relishing? Finally, is not in many cases that which is spoken of as
something extraneous, dragged in aforethought, for the purpose of
singularity, the result more truly of a most earnest and
single-minded labor after the utmost rendering of idiomatic
conversational truth; the rejection of all stop-gap words; about the
most literal transcript of fact compatible with the ends of poetry
and true feeling for Art? This a point worthy note, and not capable
of contradiction.{14}
{14} We may instance several scenes of "Pippa Passes,"--the
concluding one especially, where Pippa reviews her day; the whole of
the "Soul's Tragedy,"--the poetic as well as the prose portion; "The
Flight of the Duchess;" "Waring," &c.; and passages continually
recurring in "Sordello," and in "Colombe's Birthday."
These questions answered categorically will, we believe, be found to
establish the assurance that Browning's style is copious, and
certainly not other than appropriate,--instance contrasted with
instance--as the form of expression bestowed on the several phases of
a certain ever-present form of thought. We have already endeavored to
show that, where style is not inadequate, its object as a means being
attained, the mind must revert to its decision as to relative and
collective value of intention: and we will again leave Browning's
manifestations of intellectual purpose, as such, for the verdict of
his readers.
To those who yet insist: "Why cannot I read Sordello?" we can only
answer:--Admitted a leading idea, not only metaphysical but subtle
and complicated to the highest degree; how work out this idea, unless
through the finest intricacy of shades of mental development?
Admitted a philosophic comprehensiveness of historical estimate and a
minuteness of familiarity with details, with the added assumption,
besides, of speaking with the very voice of the times; how present
this position, unless by standing at an eminent point, and addressing
thence a not unprepared audience? Admitted an intense aching
concentration of thought; how be self-consistent, unless uttering
words condensed to the limits of language?--And let us at last say:
Read Sordello again. Why hold firm that you ought to be able at once
to know Browning's stops, and to pluck out the heart of his mystery?
Surely, if you do not understand him, the fact tells two ways. But,
if you _will_ understand him, you shall.
We have been desirous to explain and justify the state of feeling in
which we enter on the consideration of a new poem by Robert Browning.
Those who already feel with us will scarcely be disposed to forgive
the prolixity which, for the present, has put it out of our power to
come at the work itself: but, if earnestness of intention will plead
our excuse, we need seek for no other.