He sympathized in their beliefs even when he did not share them.
Above all he loved their
culture; and the love of
culture in general,
of its old
classic forms in particular, was as strong in him
as if it had been formed by all the natural and
conventional associations
of a university
career. He had
hearty friends and appreciators
among the dignitaries of the Church --
successive Archbishops and Bishops,
Deans of Westminster and St. Paul's. They all knew the value
of the great freelance who fought like the gods of old with the regular army.
No name, however, has been mentioned in the poet's family more frequently
or with more
affection than that of the Rev. J. D. W. Williams,
Vicar of Bottisham in Cambridgeshire. The
mutualacquaintance, which was made
through Mr. Browning's
brother-in-law, Mr. George Moulton-Barrett,
was prepared by Mr. Williams' great love for his poems,
of which he translated many into Latin and Greek; but I am convinced
that Mr. Browning's delight in his friend's
classical attainments
was quite as great as his
gratification in the tribute
he himself
derived from them.
His love of
genius was a
worship: and in this we must include his whole life.
Nor was it, as this feeling so often is,
exclusively exercised upon the past.
I do not suppose his more
eminent contemporaries ever quite knew how generous
his
enthusiasm for them had been, how free from any under-current of envy,
or
impulse to avoidable
criticism" target="_blank" title="n.批评;评论(文)">
criticism. He could not endure
even just
censure of one whom he believed, or had believed to be great.
I have seen him wince under it, though no third person was present,
and heard him answer, `Don't! don't!' as if
physical pain
were being inflicted on him. In the early days he would make his friend,
M. de Monclar, draw for him from memory the likenesses of famous writers
whom he had known in Paris; the sketches thus made
of George Sand and Victor Hugo are still in the poet's family.
A still more
striking and very
touchingincident refers to one of the winters,
probably the second, which he spent in Paris. He was one day
walking with little Pen, when Beranger came in sight,
and he bade the child `run up to' or `run past that gentleman,
and put his hand for a moment upon him.' This was a great man,
he afterwards explained, and he wished his son to be able by-and-by
to say that if he had not known, he had at all events touched him.
Scientific
genius ranked with him only second to the
poetical.
Mr. Browning's
delicateprofessional sympathies justified some sensitiveness
on his own
account; but he was, I am convinced, as free from this quality
as a man with a poet-nature could possibly be. It may seem hazardous
to
conjecture how serious
criticism" target="_blank" title="n.批评;评论(文)">
criticism would have
affected him.
Few men so much `reviewed' have
experienced so little.
He was by turns derided or ignored,
enthusiastically praised,
zealously analyzed and interpreted: but the independent judgment
which could
embrace at once the quality of his mind and its defects,
is almost
absent -- has been so at all events during later years --
from the volumes which have been written about him. I am convinced,
nevertheless, that he would have accepted serious, even
adversecriticism" target="_blank" title="n.批评;评论(文)">
criticism,
if it had borne the
impress of unbiassed thought and
genuine sincerity.
It could not be
otherwise with one in whom the power of reverence
was so
strongly marked.
He asked but one thing of his reviewers, as he asked but one thing
of his larger public. The first demand is indicated in a letter
to Mrs. Frank Hill, of January 31, 1884.
==
Dear Mrs. Hill, -- Could you
befriend me? The `Century' prints
a little insignificance of mine -- an impromptu
sonnet --
but prints it CORRECTLY. The `Pall Mall' pleases to
extract it --
and produces what I
enclose: one line left out, and a note of
admiration (!)
turned into an I, and a
superfluous `the' stuck in --
all these blunders with the
correctly printed text before it!
So does the
charge of unintelligibility
attach itself to your poor friend --
who can kick nobody.
Robert Browning.
==
The
carelessness often shown in the most friendly quotation
could hardly be
absent from that which was intended to support a
hostile view;
and the only
injustice of which he ever complained,
was what he spoke of as falsely condemning him out of his own mouth.
He used to say: `If a
critic declares that any poem of mine
is unintelligible, the reader may go to it and judge for himself;
but, if it is made to appear unintelligible by a passage
extracted from it
and distorted by misprints, I have no redress.' He also failed to realize
those conditions of thought, and still more of expression,
which made him often on first
reading difficult to understand;
and as the younger
generation of his admirers often deny those difficulties
where they exist, as
emphatically as their grandfathers proclaimed them
where they did not, public opinion gave him little help in the matter.
The second (unspoken) request was in some sense an antithesis to the first.
Mr. Browning desired to be read
accurately but not literally.
He deprecated the
constant habit of
reading him into his work;
whether in search of the personal meaning of a given passage or poem,
or in the light of a foregone
conclusion as to what that meaning must be.
The latter process was that generally preferred, because the individual mind
naturally seeks its own
reflection in the poet's work,
as it does in the facts of nature. It was stimulated by the investigations
of the Browning Societies, and by the
partialfamiliarity with his
actual life
which
constantly supplied
tempting, if untrustworthy clues. It grew out of
the strong personal as well as
literary interest which he inspired.
But the
tendency to listen in his work for a single recurrent note
always struck him as analogous to the
inspection of a picture gallery
with eyes blind to every colour but one; and the act of
sympathyoften involved in this mode of judgment was neutralized for him
by the
limitation of his
genius which it presupposed.
His general
objection to being identified with his works
is set forth in `At the Mermaid', and other poems of the same volume,
in which it takes the form of a rather captious protest