R500725A. Poems (Boston, 1850).
The National Era, 25 July 1850, p. 118.
As reprinted in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 16, 398.
This, we suppose, to be a reprint of an English edition; it is in two volumes, and comprises all the dramatic pieces and lyrics of this remarkable poet. The poetry of Browning must be studied before we can do justice to it. Few take to it kindly at the first, or like it altogether at the last. The inspiration is not to be questioned, but the revelation is often unsatisfactory. The poet’s richest and most original thought has often an involved, a mystical, and an imperfect expression. One who would receive the high imaginings and divinations of genius by some direct and easy process, and through a clear and pleasant medium, would be perplexed and half-angered by this poet at the first reading, at least. There is often about his poetry a dimness and a density which result from the depth of his thought and the affluence of his fancy. “Paracelsus,” for instance, is unreadable to the mass; but the enthusiastic student receives it almost as a new revelation of poetry. Yet it is not a poem proper, neither is it a regular drama; but a “long, winding, subtle, sweet, and varied talk.” It is full of grand conceptions, exquisite fancies—sometimes only given in luminous hints, startling intimations, and sometimes diffused and elaborated almost to weakness and folly. Now comes a stranger thought of giant proportions, almost undraped and wholly unadorned, followed by some little old friend of ours, wrapt about and overloaded by a new and gorgeous dress. Who can doubt but that this poem, peculiar, and in many passages powerful as it is, would be greatly bettered if compressed into half its present compass. While one poet spreads his poetry over so wide an expanse, and while its waters are often so unfathomable or unclear, we think it will remain a luxury for the few. This is an age of preoccupation and hurry; and not many of us can stay to study out the most solemn sounding of oracles, if given in an unknown tongue, or turn aside from direct and pleasant paths to explore wild forests, of however magnificent growth, into which open no clear and inviting vistas. “Paracelsus,” and indeed, most of the poetry of Browning, is to be studied, as we have said; and alas! the many do not study, thus this poet can hardly be to them priest, or interpreter. The “Blot in the ’Scutcheon,” and some of the “Dramatic Lyrics,” are exceptions to these remarks. We see nothing in the way of their universal popularity. They have power, tenderness, melody, sufficient condensation and directness—have a wonderful fidelity to nature, and are informed with a fine poetical philosophy. “Paracelsus” and the like labored poems seem emanations alone from the large, unwieldy, if such a term may be used, intellectuality of the poet; but in the sweet and mournful story of Mildred and Mertown beats his warm human heart—so sympathetic, strong and wise in affection and Christ-like charity.
We regret that our limits will not allow us to make extracts from some of our favorites in these volumes; yet we should hardly know when to pause when once fairly in. Browning is one of the richest of authors in striking and quotable passages. Sometimes, amid his most unformed and mystical language, comes a happy, lucid expression, a bright rift, a sudden revealing of heaven through clouds and shadows—verbal felicities, pleasant surprises of humor, delicious turns of sentiment, and soft yet masterly touches of pathos, which would summon smiles to the sternest lip, or from the coldest and most philosophical heart roll away the stone which shuts down the fountain of tears. On the whole, Browning is a poet whom all readers of poetry should know, and know perfectly. “Drink deep, or taste not,” is the rule, as regards a poet of his original genius and peculiar style. One must cultivate a liking for him, as we cultivate a taste for olives and tomatoes. Few, we repeat, take to him with a genuine relish at first; but, in the end, the reward and the pleasure are certain, we think.
We must not forget to commend the great neatness with which this work has been brought out, by those most admirable and liberal publishers, Ticknor, Reed, & Fields. Their list of late and forthcoming publications can hardly be equalled by any American house. It comprises more works of a high character, from the best authors of our time, than any we remember to have seen for years. Messrs. Ticknor, Reed, & Fields, seem to be especially the publishers and the favorites of poets, who have the taste and judgment to perceive that their sweetest verse will read the sweeter in clear type, with marginal settings, smooth and pure.
Reviewed:
Poems (RB), Boston: Ticknor, Reed, & Fields, 1850.
___________________
