R400500A. Sordello.
The Dublin Review, May 1840, pp. 551–553.
As reprinted in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 4, 420–421.
This is a work by the author of Paracelsus, and one not likely to [p. 552→] exalt his reputation, or to produce any adipose tendency in the exchequer of his respectable publisher. The title page is brief, not defining its character. This brevity may be studied, to enhance curiosity, or forced, from the difficulty of selecting the most appropriate description of the production issued. We have noted down several definitions, out of many that have struck us in the perusal, as being fitted to characterise it; such as “Sordello a conundrum,” from the difficulty of making out the meaning or object of the author. “Sordello, couplets illustrative of the interrogative system;” from the profuse use made of the contorted marks of interrogation, which are spread in great numbers through the pages, standing like so many Scarrons, Popes and Æsops, but not contributing their wit, melody or wisdom. “Sordello, or exercises for the asthmatics,” from the wheezy, spasmodic, sobbing nature of the verse. These are but a few specimens which the perusal has suggested to us; but as the determination, seeing their conflicting pretensions, is difficult, we must imitate a late chancellor, and postpone our final judgment.
We remember perusing the Paracelsus with some gratification, as a work of promise, which, despite its many defects, led us to hope that ultimately, we should be able to hail the author as one deserving of taking his seat among the crowned poets of the age, and whose productions would hereafter contribute fresh stores of beauty, strength, philosophic insight, and harmonious thought, apparelled in majestic and melodious numbers, to the literature of our country. The play of Strafford somewhat checked that expectation. Although in it there was no insignificant dexterity in the construction, the language occasionally exhibited power and richness, and somewhat of an artistic eye, there was a meanness in the working out of his conceptions, a want of dignity and appropriateness in the dialogue, and an offensive and vicious style, apparently grounded on some conceited theory, at utter variance with all the canons of taste and propriety.
Our perusal of Sordello has not renewed our early anticipation. The faults of Mr. Browning are here exaggerated and profusely displayed, to the destruction of all interest, comprehension of the narrative, sympathy with the author, or approbation of his intellectual pretensions. The story is most elliptically constructed, full of breaks and leaps; the syntax of quite an unusual character, a mass of perplexity and obscurity; the versification is harsh and knotty; the language, instead of being throughout “English undefiled,” is larded with many fantastic and arbitrary invertions, and the whole set together in a ricketty, hysterical, capricious style, producing the most startling and repulsive effect. All this makes us fear that the defects, which we had previously fancied were ascribable to immaturity, are the result of some obstinate system which has now obtained too strong a control over the writer, ever to let him stand up a free man, to discourse of noble and regenerating themes in a mode worthy of such, or of the sublime and responsible avocation of a poet. If the critical aphorism of Coleridge be true, that the poem to which we return with the greatest pleasure, possesses the genuine power and claims the name [p. 553→] of true poetry, then is Sordello certainly condemned; for it is as impossible to return to, as to read it for the first time even with pleasure.
It is an evil sign when, in the work of an author, we see strong evidence that his energy has been directed to the form, rather than to the spirit and substance of his subject. This has not been manifested by those who have, from of old, down to the present day, furnished us with those productions, which the world will not willingly let die. In them the soul of the poet has spoken; new worlds of splendour and beauty, displayed to his inner being, have been revealed to us; treasures of wisdom and knowledge unfolded; lofty conceptions, spiritual enunciations, oracles that speak of the divine and the infinite, have been breathed forth by him to quicken and ennoble the dead and the worldly; but the spirit that was in his communications, was his chief concern, not the mode or the shape in which they were to be given. To those who aspire to win the poet’s immortal name, and produce his life-giving and lasting effects, must it be recommended to follow such example. They must recognise and respect the venerable in the past and the established, and with the most ardent and dutiful desire to bring a votive offering, as a thanksgiving and supplication, to the Temple of the Beautiful, they must feel the obligation to present it in a shape which has been stamped with the approbation of the good and the wise, which harmonizes with the feelings of the devout and the worshipful, and does not mar its effect by raising the doubt whether the votary has not been more excited by influences relating to the transitory, instead of losing such in the contemplation of the permanent and the supreme.
We regret that we have not been able to give a more recommendatory notice of Mr. Browning’s work; but we have a high estimate of the aim and functions of a poet, and are jealous guardians of our country’s literature. We cannot, therefore, to gratify a clever man, or to win a false character for liberality among publishers, compromise our duty and mislead our readers. He has given indication of powers, that if faithfully, diligently, and loftily cultivated, might place him in an honourable and benificent position. The world of the beautiful is not exhausted, the number of the poets is not yet made up; there are thousands of manifestations of the good, the true, the lovely, the eternal in man, yet to be revealed. He may yet give the world assurance that he is one who has been appointed to this high calling which he aims at; If he aspire rightly, he will attain. We hope that he will do so; but let him take this warning from us, in the only quotation we shall make from his Sordello,—
Change no old standards of perfection; vex
With no strange forms created to perplex.
Reviewed:
Sordello (RB), London: Moxon, 1840.
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