Part 1 (2/2)
But why such long prolusion and display, Such turning and adjustment of the harp, And taking it upon your breast, at length, Only to speak dry words across its strings?
Stark-naked thought is in request enough: 10 Speak prose and hollo it till Europe hears!
The six-foot Swiss tube, braced about with bark, Which helps the hunter's voice from Alp to Alp-- Exchange our harp for that--who hinders you?
But here's your fault; grown men want thought, you think; Thought's what they mean by verse, and seek in verse.
Boys seek for images and melody, Men must have reason--so, you aim at men.
Quite otherwise! Objects throng our youth,'tis true; We see and hear and do not wonder much: 20 If you could tell us what they mean, indeed!
As German Boehme never cared for plants Until it happed, a-walking in the fields, He noticed all at once that plants could speak, Nay, turned with loosened tongue to talk with him.
That day the daisy had an eye indeed-- Colloquized with the cowslip on such themes!
We find them extant yet in Jacob's prose.
But by the time youth slips a stage or two While reading prose in that tough book he wrote 30 (Collating and emendating the same And settling on the sense most to our mind) We shut the clasps and find life's summer past.
Then, who helps more, pray, to repair our loss-- Another Boehme with a tougher book And subtler meanings of what roses say-- Or some stout Mage like him of Halberstadt, John, who made things Boehme wrote thoughts about?
He with a ”look you!” vents a brace of rhymes, And in there breaks the sudden rose herself, 40 Over us, under, round us every side, Nay, in and out the tables and the chairs And musty volumes, Boehme's book and all-- Buries us with a glory, young once more, Pouring heaven into this shut house of life.
So come, the harp back to your heart again!
You are a poem, though your poem's naught.
The best of all you showed before, believe, Was your own boy-face o'er the finer chords Bent, following the cherub at the top 50 That points to G.o.d with his paired half-moon wings.
NOTES
”Transcendentalism” is a criticism, placed in the mouth of a poet, of another poet, whose manner of singing is prosaic, because it seeks to transcend (or penetrate beyond) phenomena, by divesting poetic expression of those concrete embodiments which enable it to appeal to the senses and imagination. Instead of bare abstractions being suited to the developed mind, it is the primitive mind, which, like Boehme's, has the merely metaphysical turn, and expects to discover the unincarnate absolute essence of things. The maturer mind craves the vitalizing method of the artist who, like the magician of Halberstadt, recreates things bodily in all their beautiful vivid wholeness. Yet the poet who sincerely holds so fragmentary a conception of art is himself a poem to the poet who holds the larger view. His boy-face singing to G.o.d above his ineffective harp-strings is a concrete image of this sort of poetic transcendentalism.
[It is obvious that Browning uses the Halberstadt and not the Boehme method in presenting this embodiment of his subject. The supposition of certain commentators that Browning is here picturing his own artistic method as transcendental is a misconception of his characteristic theory of poetic art, as shown here and elsewhere.]
22. Boehme: Jacob, an ”inspired” German shoemaker (1575-1624), who wrote ”Aurora,” ”The Three Principles,” etc., mystical commentaries on Biblical events. When twenty-five years old, says Hotham in ”Mysterium Magnum,” 1653, ”he was surrounded by a divine Light and replenished with heavenly Knowledge . . . going abroad into the Fieldes to a Greene before Neys-Gate at Gorlitz and viewing the Herbes and Gra.s.s of the Fielde, in his inward light he saw into their Essences . . . and from that Fountain of Revelation wrote <de signatura=”” rerum=””>,” on the signatures of things, the ”tough book” to which Browning refers.
37. Halberstadt: Johann Semeca, called Teutonicus, a canon of Halberstadt in Germany, who was interested in the unchurchly study of mediaeval science and reputed to be a magician, possessing the vegetable stone supposed to make plants grow at will, having the same power over organic life that the philosopher's stone of the alchemists had over minerals, so that, like Albertus Magnus, another such mage of the Middle Ages, he could cause flowers to spring up in the midst of winter.
HOW IT STRIKES A CONTEMPORARY
1855
I only knew one poet in my life: And this, or something like it, was his way.
You saw go up and down Valladolid, A man of mark, to know next time you saw.
His very serviceable suit of black Was courtly once and conscientious still, And many might have worn it, though none did: The cloak, that somewhat shone and showed the threads, Had purpose, and the ruff, significance.
He walked and tapped the pavement with his cane, 10 Scenting the world, looking it full in face, An old dog, bald and blindish, at his heels.
They turned up, now, the alley by the church, That leads nowhither; now, they breathed themselves On the main promenade just at the wrong time: You'd come upon his scrutinizing hat Making a peaked shade blacker than itself Against the single window spared some house Intact yet with its mouldered Moorish work-- Or else surprise the ferret of his stick 20 Trying the mortar's temper 'tween the c.h.i.n.ks Of some new shop a-building, French and fine.
He stood and watched the cobbler at his trade, The man who slices lemons into drink, The coffee-roaster's brazier, and the boys That volunteer to help him turn its winch.
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