Robert Browning: How to Know Him | Page 7

creatures
Boasts two soul-sides, one to
face the world with,
One to show a woman when he loves her!
XVIII
This I say of me, but think of you, Love!
This to you--yourself my
moon of poets!
Ah, but that's the world's side, there's the wonder,

Thus they see you, praise you, think they know you!
There, in turn I
stand with them and praise you--
Out of my own self, I dare to phrase
it.
But the best is when I glide from out them,
Cross a step or two of
dubious twilight,
Come out on the other side, the novel
Silent silver
lights and darks undreamed of,
Where I hush and bless myself with
silence.
XIX
Oh, their Rafael of the dear Madonnas,
Oh, their Dante of the dread
Inferno,
Wrote one song--and in my brain I sing it,
Drew one
angel--borne, see, on my bosom!

R. B.
The Brownings travelled a good deal: they visited many places in Italy,
Venice, Ancona, Fano, Siena, and spent several winters in Rome. The
winter of 1851-52 was passed at Paris, where on the third of January
Browning wrote one of his most notable poems, _Childe Roland to the
Dark Tower Came_. One memorable evening at London in 1855 there
were gathered together in an upper room Mr. and Mrs. Browning, Mr.
and Mrs. Tennyson, Dante and William Rossetti. Tennyson had just
published _Maud_ and Browning the two volumes called _Men and
Women_. Each poet was invited to read from his new work. Tennyson,
with one leg curled under him on the sofa, chanted _Maud_, the tears
running down his cheeks; and then Browning read in a conversational
manner his characteristic poem, _Fra Lippo Lippi_. Rossetti made a
pen-and-ink sketch of the Laureate while he was intoning. On one of
the journeys made by the Brownings from London to Paris they were
accompanied by Thomas Carlyle, who wrote a vivid and charming
account of the transit. The poet was the practical member of the party:
the "brave Browning" struggled with the baggage, and the customs, and
the train arrangements; while the Scot philosopher smoked infinite
tobacco.
The best account of the domestic life of the Brownings at Casa Guidi in
Florence was written by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and published in his
_Italian Note-Books_. On a June evening, Mr. and Mrs. Browning,
William Cullen Bryant, and Nathaniel Hawthorne ate strawberries and
talked spiritualism. Hawthorne and Browning stood on the little
balcony overlooking the street, and heard the priests chanting in the
church of San Felice, the chant heard only in June, which Browning
was to hear again on the night of the June day when he found the old
yellow book. Both chant and terrace were to be immortalised in
Browning's epic. Hawthorne said that Browning had an elfin wife and
an elf child. "I wonder whether he will ever grow up, whether it is
desirable that he should." Like all visitors at Casa Guidi, the American
was impressed by the extraordinary sweetness, gentleness, and charity
of Elizabeth Browning, and by the energy, vivacity, and conversational
powers of her husband. Hawthorne said he seemed to be in all parts of

the room at once.
Mr. Barrett Browning told me in 1904 that he remembered his mother,
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, as clearly as though he had seen her
yesterday. He was eleven years old at the time of her death. He would
have it that her ill health had been greatly exaggerated. She was an
invalid, but did not give the impression of being one. She was able to
do many things, and had considerable power of endurance. One day in
Florence she walked from her home out through the Porta Romana,
clear up on the heights, and back to Casa Guidi. "That was pretty good,
wasn't it?" said he. She was of course the idol of the household, and
everything revolved about her. She was "intensely loved" by all her
friends. Her father was a "very peculiar man." The son's account of her
health differs radically from that written by the mother of E. C.
Stedman, who said that Mrs. Browning was kept alive only by opium,
which she had to take daily. This writer added, however, that in spite of
Mrs. Browning's wretched health, she had never heard her speak ill of
any one, though she talked with her many times.
After the death of his wife, Browning never saw Florence again. He
lived in London, and after a few years was constantly seen in society,
Tennyson, who hated society, said that Browning would die in a dress
suit. His real fame did not begin until the year 1864, with the
publication of _Dramatis Personæ_. During the first thirty years of his
career, from the publication of _Pauline_ in 1833 to the appearance of
_Dramatis Personæ_, he received always tribute from the few, and
neglect, seasoned with ridicule, from