Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

To its own small dimensions, private scale

  Of right and wrong, — humanity i’ the large,

  The right and wrong of the universe, forsooth!

  This man addressed himself to guard and guide

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau. When the case demands

  He frustrate villany in the egg, unhatched,

  With easy stamp and minimum of pang

  E’en to the punished reptile, ‘There’s my oath

  Restrains my foot,’ objects our guide and guard,

  ‘I must leave guardianship and guidance now:

  Rather than stretch one handbreadth of the law,

  I am bound to see it break from end to end.

  First show me death i’ the body politic:

  Then prescribe pill and potion, what may please

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau! all is for her sake:

  ‘Twas she ordained my service should be so.

  What if the event demonstrate her unwise,

  If she unwill the thing she willed before?

  I hold to the letter and obey the bond

  And leave her to perdition loyally.’

  Whence followed thrice the expenditure we blame

  Of human life and liberty: for want

  O’ the by-blow, came deliberate butcher’ s-work!”

  “Elsewhere go carry your complaint!” bade he.

  “Least, largest, there’s one law for all the minds,

  Here or above: be true at any price!

  ‘Tis just o’ the great scale, that such happy stroke

  Of falsehood would be found a failure. Truth

  Still stands unshaken at her base by me,

  Reigns paramount i’ the world, for the large good

  O’ the long late generations, — I and you

  Forgotten like this buried foolishness!

  Not so the good I rooted in its grave.”

  This is why he refused to break his oath,

  Rather appealed to the people, gained the power

  To act as he thought best, then used it, once

  For all, no matter what the consequence

  To knaves and fools. As thus began his sway,

  So, through its twenty years, one rule of right

  Sufficed him: govern for the many first,

  The poor mean multitude, all mouths and eyes:

  Bid the few, better favored in the brain,

  Be patient nor presume on privilege,

  Help him or else be quiet, — never crave

  That he help them, — increase, forsooth, the gulf

  Yawning so terribly ‘twixt mind and mind

  I’ the world here, which his purpose was to block

  At bottom, were it by an inch, and bridge,

  If by a filament, no more, at top.

  Equalize things a little! And the way

  He took to work that purpose out, was plain

  Enough to intellect and honesty

  And — superstition, style it if you please,

  So long as you allow there was no lack

  O’ the quality imperative in man —

  Reverence. You see deeper? thus saw he,

  And by the light he saw, must walk: how else

  Was he to do his part? a man’s, with might

  And main, and not a faintest touch of fear,

  Sure he was in the hand of God who comes

  Before and after, with a work to do

  Which no man helps nor hinders. Thus the man, —

  So timid when the business was to touch

  The uncertain order of humanity,

  Imperil, for a problematic cure

  Of grievance on the surface, any good

  I’ the deep of things, dim yet discernible —

  This same man, so irresolute before,

  Show him a true excrescence to cut sheer,

  A devil’ s-graft on God’s foundation-stock,

  Then — no complaint of indecision more!

  He wrenched out the whole canker, root and branch,

  Deaf to who cried that earth would tumble in

  At its four corners if he touched a twig.

  Witness that lie of lies, arch-infamy,

  When the Republic, with her life involved

  In just this law — ”Each people rules itself

  Its own way, not as any stranger please” —

  Turned, and for first proof she was living, bade

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau fasten on the throat

  Of the first neighbor that claimed benefit

  O’ the law herself established: “Hohenstiel

  For Hohenstielers! Rome, by parity

  Of reasoning, for Romans? That’s a jest

  Wants proper treatment, — lancet-puncture suits

  The proud flesh: Rome ape Hohenstiel forsooth!”

  And so the siege and slaughter and success

  Whereof we nothing doubt that Hohenstiel

  Will have to pay the price, in God’s good time

  Which does not always fall on Saturday

  When the world looks for wages. Anyhow,

  He found this infamy triumphant. Well:

  Sagacity suggested, make this speech!

  “The work was none of mine: suppose wrong wait,

  Stand over for redressing? Mine for me,

  My predecessors’ work on their own head!

  Meantime there’s plain advantage, should we leave

  Things as we find them. Keep Rome manacled

  Hand and foot: no fear of unruliness!

  Her foes consent to even seem our friends

  So long, no longer. Then, there’s glory got

  By boldness and bravado to the world:

  The disconcerted world must grin and bear

  The old saucy writing, — ’Grunt thereat who may,

  So shall things be, for such my pleasure is —

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau’s.’ How that reads in Rome

  I’ the Capitol where Brennus broke his pate,

  And lends a flourish to our journalists!”

  Only, it was nor read nor flourished of,

  Since, not a moment did such glory stay

  Excision of the canker! Out it came,

  Root and branch, with much roaring, and some blood,

  And plentiful abuse of him from friend

  And foe. Who cared? Not Nature who assuaged

  The pain and set the patient on his legs

  Promptly: the better! had it been the worse,

  ‘Tis Nature you must try conclusions with,

  Not he, since nursing canker kills the sick

  For certain, while to cut may cure, at least.

  “Ah,” groaned a second time Sagacity,

  “Again the little mind, precipitate,

  Rash, rude, when even in the right, as here!

  The great mind knows the power of gentleness,

  Only tries force because persuasion fails.

  Had this man, by prelusive trumpet-blast,

  Signified ‘Truth and Justice mean to come,

  Nay, fast approach your threshold! Ere they knock,

  See that the house be set in order, swept

  And garnished, windows shut, and doors thrown wide!

  The free State comes to visit the free Church:

  Receive her! or . . . or . . . never mind what else!’

  Thus moral suasion heralding brute force,

  How had he seen the old abuses die,

  And new life kindle here, there, everywhere,

  Roused simply by that mild yet potent spell —

  Beyond or beat of drum or stroke of sword —

  Public opinion!”

  ”How, indeed?” he asked,

  “When all to see, after some twenty years,

  Were your own fool-face waiting for the sight,

  Faced by as wide a grin from ear to ear

  O’ the knaves who, while the fools were waiting, worked —

  Broke yet another generation’s heart —

  Twenty years
’ respite helping! Teach your nurse

  ‘Compliance with, before you suck, the teat!’

  Find what that means, and meanwhile hold your tongue!”

  Whereof the war came which he knew must be.

  Now, this had proved the dry-rot of the race

  He ruled o’er, that, i’ the old day, when was need

  They fought for their own liberty and life,

  Well did they fight, none better: whence, such love

  Of fighting somehow still for fighting’s sake

  Against no matter whose the liberty

  And life, so long as self-conceit should crow

  And clap the wing, while justice sheathed her claw, —

  That what had been the glory of the world

  When thereby came the world’s good, grew its plague

  Now that the champion-armor, donned to dare

  The dragon once, was clattered up and down

  Highway and by-path of the world at peace,

  Merely to mask marauding, or for sake

  O’ the shine and rattle that apprised the fields

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau was a fighter yet,

  And would be, till the weary world suppressed

  Her peccant humors out of fashion now.

  Accordingly the world spoke plain at last,

  Promised to punish who next played with fire.

  So, at his advent, such discomfiture

  Taking its true shape of beneficence,

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau, half-sad and part-wise,

  Sat: if with wistful eye reverting oft

  To each pet weapon, rusty on its peg,

  Yet, with a sigh of satisfaction too

  That, peacefulness become the law, herself

  Got the due share of godsends in its train,

  Cried shame and took advantage quietly.

  Still, so the dry-rot had been nursed into

  Blood, bones and marrow, that, from worst to best,

  All, — clearest brains and soundest hearts save here, —

  All had this lie acceptable for law

  Plain as the sun at noonday — ”War is best,

  Peace is worst; peace we only tolerate

  As needful preparation for new war:

  War may be for whatever end we will —

  Peace only as the proper help thereto.

  Such is the law of right and wrong for us

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau: for the other world,

  As naturally, quite another law.

  Are we content? The world is satisfied.

  Discontent? Then the world must give us leave

  To strike right, left, and exercise our arm

  Torpid of late through overmuch repose,

  And show its strength is still superlative

  At somebody’s expense in life or limb:

  Which done, — let peace succeed and last a year!”

  Such devil’s-doctrine so was judged God’s law,

  We say, when this man stepped upon the stage,

  That it had seemed a venial fault at most

  Had he once more obeyed Sagacity.

  “You come i’ the happy interval of peace,

  The favorable weariness from war:

  Prolong it! artfully, as if intent

  On ending peace as soon as possible.

  Quietly so increase the sweets of ease

  And safety, so employ the multitude,

  Put hod and trowel so in idle hands,

  So stuff and stop up wagging jaws with bread,

  That selfishness shall surreptitiously

  Do wisdom’s office, whisper in the ear

  Of Hohenstiel-Schwangau, there’s a pleasant feel

  In being gently forced down, pinioned fast

  To the easy arm-chair by the pleading arms

  O’ the world beseeching her to there abide

  Content with all the harm done hitherto,

  And let herself be petted in return,

  Free to re-wage, in speech and prose and verse,

  The old unjust wars, nay — in verse and prose

  And speech, — to vaunt new victories shall prove

  A plague o’ the future, — so that words suffice

  For present comfort, and no deeds denote

  That — tired of illimitable line on line

  Of boulevard-building, tired o’ the theatre

  With the tuneful thousand in their thrones above,

  For glory of the male intelligence,

  And Nakedness in her due niche below,

  For illustration of the female use —

  That she, ‘twixt yawn and sigh, prepares to slip

  Out of the arm-chair, wants fresh blood again

  From over the boundary, to color-up

  The sheeny sameness, keep the world aware

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau’s arm needs exercise

  Despite the petting of the universe!

  Come, you’re a city-builder: what’s the way

  Wisdom takes when time needs that she entice

  Some fierce tribe, castled on the mountain-peak,

  Into the quiet and amenity

  O’ the meadow-land below? By crying ‘Done

  With fight now, down with fortress’? Rather — ’Dare

  On, dare ever, not a stone displace!’

  Cries Wisdom: ‘Cradle of our ancestors,

  Be bulwark, give our children safety still!

  Who of our children please may stoop and taste

  O’ the valley-fatness, unafraid, — for why?

  At first alarm they have thy mother-ribs

  To-run upon for refuge: foes forget

  Scarcely that Terror on her vantage-coign,

  Couchant supreme among the powers of air,

  Watches — prepared to pounce — the country wide!

  Meanwhile the encouraged valley holds its own,

  From the first hut’s adventure in descent,

  Half home, half hiding place, — to dome and spire

  Befitting the assured metropolis:

  Nor means offence to the fort which caps the crag,

  All undismantled of a turret-stone,

  And bears the banner-pole that creaks at times

  Embarrassed by the old emblazonment,

  When festal days are to commemorate:

  Otherwise left untenanted, no doubt,

  Since, never fear, our myriads from below

  Would rush, if needs were, man the walls again,

  Renew the exploits of the earlier time

  At moment’s notice! But till notice sound,

  Inhabit we in ease and opulence!’

  And so, till one day thus a notice sounds,

  Not trumpeted, but in a whisper-gust

  Fitfully playing through mute city streets

  At midnight weary of day’s feast and game —

  ‘Friends, your famed fort’s a ruin past repair!

  Its use is — to proclaim it had a use

  Obsolete long since. Climb and study there

  How to paint barbican and battlement

  I’ the scenes of our new theatre! We fight

  Now — by forbidding neighbors to sell steel

  Or buy wine, not by blowing out their brains!

  Moreover, while we let time sap the strength

  O’ the walls omnipotent in menace once,

  Neighbors would seem to have prepared surprise —

  Run up defences in a mushroom-growth,

  For all the world like what we boasted: brief —

  Hohenstiel-Schwangau’s policy is peace!’”

  Ay, so Sagacity advised him filch

  Folly from fools: handsomely substitute

  The dagger o’ lath, while gay they sang and danced,

  For that long dangerous sword they liked to feel,

  Even at feast-time, clink and make friends start.

  No! he said, “Hear the truth, and bear the truth,

  And bring the truth to bear on all you are


  And do, assured that only good comes thence

  Whate’er the shape good take! While I have rule,

  Understand! — war for war’s sake, war for sake

  O’ the good war gets you as war’s sole excuse,

  Is damnable and damned shall be. You want

  Glory? Why so do I, and so does God.

  Where is it found, — in this paraded shame, —

  One particle of glory? Once you warred

  For liberty against the world, and won:

  There was the glory. Now, you fain would war

  Because the neighbor prospers overmuch, —

  Because there has been silence half-an-hour,

  Like Heaven on earth, without a cannon-shot

  Announcing Hohenstielers-Schwangauese

  Are minded to disturb the jubilee, —

  Because the loud tradition echoes faint,

  And who knows but posterity may doubt

  If the great deeds were ever done at all,

  Much less believe, were such to do again,

  So the event would follow: therefore, prove

  The old power, at the expense of somebody!

  Oh Glory, — gilded bubble, bard and sage

  So nickname rightly, — would thy dance endure

  One moment, would thy vaunting make believe

  Only one eye thy ball was solid gold,

  Hadst thou less breath to buoy thy vacancy

  Than a whole multitude expends in praise,

  Less range for roaming than from head to head

  Of a whole people? Flit, fall, fly again,

  Only, fix never where the resolute hand

  May prick thee, prove the glassy lie thou art!

  Give me real intellect to reason with,

  No multitude, no entity that apes

  One wise man, being but a million fools!

  How and whence wishest glory, thou wise one?

  Wouldst get it, — didst thyself guide Providence, —

  By stinting of his due each neighbor round

  In strength and knowledge and dexterity

  So as to have thy littleness grow large

  By all those somethings once, turned nothings now,

  As children make a molehill mountainous

  By scooping out a trench around their pile,

  And saving so the mudwork from approach?

  Quite otherwise the cheery game of life,

  True yet mimetic warfare, whereby man

  Does his best with his utmost, and so ends

  A victor most of all in fair defeat.

  Who thinks, — would he have no one think beside?

  Who knows, who does, — save his must learning die

  And action cease? Why, so our giant proves

  No better than a dwarf, once rivalry

  Prostrate around him. Let the whole race stand

  For him to try conclusions fairly with!

  Show me the great man would engage his peer