Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  Roused by which laugh, the other turns, laughs too —

  The youth, the good strong fellow, rough perhaps.

  “Well, what’s the damage — three, or four, or five?

  How many figures in a row! Hand here!

  Come now, there’s one expense all yours not mine —

  Scribbling the people’s Album over, leaf

  The first and foremost too! You think, perhaps,

  They’ll only charge you for a brand-new book

  Nor estimate the literary loss?

  Wait till the small account comes! ‘To one night’s

  Lodging’ — for ‘beds,’ they can’t say, — ‘pound or so;

  Dinner, Apollinaris, — what they please,

  Attendance not included;’ last looms large

  ‘Defacement of our Album, late enriched

  With’ — let’s see what! Here, at the window, though!

  Ay, breathe the morning and forgive your luck!

  Fine enough country for a fool like me

  To own, as next month I suppose I shall!

  Eh? True fool’s-fortune! so console yourself.

  Let’s see, however — hand the book, I say!

  Well, you’ve improved the classic by romance.

  Queer reading! Verse with parenthetic prose

  ‘Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!’

  (Three-two fives ) ‘life how profitably spent’

  (Five-naught, five-nine fives) ‘yonder humble cot’

  (More and more naughts and fives) ‘in mild content;

  And did my feelings find the natural vent

  In friendship and in love, how blest my lot!’

  Then follow the dread figures — five! ‘Content!’

  That’s apposite! Are you content as he —

  Simpkin the sonneteer? Ten thousand pounds

  Give point to his effusion — by so much

  Leave me the richer and the poorer you

  After our night’s play; who’s content the most,

  I, you, or Simpkin?”

  So the polished snob,

  The elder man, refinement every inch

  From brow to boot-end, quietly replies:

  “Simpkin’s no name I know. I had my whim.”

  “Ay, had you! And such things make friendship thick.

  Intimates I may boast we were; henceforth,

  Friends — shall it not be? — who discard reserve,

  Use plain words, put each dot upon each i,

  Till death us twain do part? The bargain’s struck!

  Old fellow, if you fancy — (to begin — )

  I felled to penetrate your scheme last week,

  You wrong your poor disciple. Oh, no airs!

  Because you happen to be twice my age

  And twenty times my master, must perforce

  No blink of daylight struggle through the web

  There’s no unwinding? You entoil my legs,

  And welcome, for I like it: blind me, — no!

  A very pretty piece of shuttle-work

  Was that — your mere chance question at the club —

  ‘Do you go anywhere this Whitsuntide?

  I’m off for Paris, there’s the Opera — there’s

  The Salon, there’s a china-sale, — beside

  Chantilly; and, for good companionship,

  There’s Such-and-such and So-and-so. Suppose

  We start together?’ ‘No such holiday!’

  I told you: ‘Paris and the rest be hanged!

  Why plague me who am pledged to home-delights?

  I’m the engaged now; through whose fault but yours?

  On duty. As you well know. Don’t I drowse

  The week away down with the Aunt and Niece?

  No help: it’s leisure, loneliness and love.

  Wish I could take you; but fame travels fast, —

  A man of much newspaper-paragraph,

  You scare domestic circles; and beside

  Would not you like your lot, that second taste

  Of nature and approval of the grounds!

  You might walk early or lie late, so shirk

  Week-day devotions: but stay Sunday o’er,

  And morning church is obligatory:

  No mundane garb permissible, or dread

  The butler’s privileged monition! No!

  Pack off to Paris, nor wipe tear away!’

  Whereon how artlessly the happy flash

  Followed, by inspiration! ‘Tell you what —

  Let’s turn their flank, try things on t’other side!

  Inns for my money! Liberty’s the life!

  We’ll lie in hiding: there’s the crow-nest nook,

  The tourist’s joy, the Inn they rave about,

  Inn that’s out — out of sight and out of mind

  And out of mischief to all four of us —

  Aunt and niece, you and me. At night arrive;

  At morn, find time for just a Pisgah-view

  Of my friend’s Land of Promise; then depart.

  And while I’m whizzing onward by first train,

  Bound for our own place (since my Brother sulks

  And says I shun him like the plague) yourself —

  Why, you have stepped thence, start from platform, gay

  Despite the sleepless journey, — love lends wings, — 200

  Hug aunt and niece who, none the wiser, wait

  The faithful advent! Eh?’ ‘With all my heart,’

  Said I to you; said I to mine own self:

  ‘Does he believe I fail to comprehend

  He wants just one more final friendly snack

  At friend’s exchequer ere friend runs to earth,

  Marries, renounces yielding friends such sport?’

  And did I spoil sport, pull face grim, — nay, grave?

  Your pupil does you better credit! No!

  I parleyed with my pass-book, — rubbed my pair

  At the big balance in my banker’s hands, —

  Folded a cheque cigar-case-shape, — just wants

  Filling and signing, — and took train, resolved

  To execute myself with decency

  And let you win — if not Ten thousand quite,

  Something by way of wind-up-farewell burst

  Of firework-nosegay! Where’s your fortune fled?

  Or is not fortune constant after all?

  You lose ten thousand pounds: had I lost half

  Or half that, I should bite my lips, I think.

  You man of marble! Strut and stretch my best

  On tiptoe, I shall never reach your height.

  How does the loss feel! Just one lesson more!”

  The more refined man smiles a frown away.

  “The lesson shall be — only boys like you

  Put such a question at the present stage.

  I had a ball lodge in my shoulder once.

  And, full five minutes, never guessed the fact;

  Next day, I felt decidedly: and still.

  At twelve years’ distance, when I lift my arm

  A twinge reminds me of the surgeon’s probe.

  Ask me, this day month, how I feel my luck!

  And meantime please to stop impertinence.

  For — don’t I know its object? All this chaff

  Covers the corn, this preface leads to speech.

  This boy stands forth a hero. ‘There, my lord!

  Our play was true play, fun not earnest! I

  Empty your purse, inside out, while my poke

  Bulges to bursting? Tou can badly spare

  A doit, confess now, Duke though brother be!

  While I’m gold-daubed so thickly, spangles drop

  ‘And show my father’s warehouse-apron: pshaw!

  Enough! We’ve had a palpitating night!

  Good morning! Breakfast and forget our dreams!

  My mouth’s shut, mind! I tell nor man nor mouse.’

  There, see! He don’t deny it! Thanks, my boy!
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br />   Hero and welcome — only, not on me

  Make trial of your ‘prentice-hand! Enough!

  We’ve played, I’ve lost and owe ten thousand pounds,

  Whereof I muster, at the moment, — well,

  What’s for the bill here and the back to town.

  Still, I’ve my little character to keep:

  You may expect your money at month’s end.”

  The young man at the window turns round quick —

  A clumsy giant handsome creature; grasps

  In his large red the little lean white hand

  Of the other, looks him in the sallow face.

  “I say now — is it right to so mistake

  A fellow, force him in mere self-defence

  To spout like Mister Mild Acclivity

  In album-language? You know well enough

  Whether I like you — like ‘s no album-word

  Anyhow: point me to one soul beside

  In the wide world I care one straw about!

  I first set eyes on you a year ago;

  Since when you’ve done me good — I’ll stick to it —

  More than I got in the whole twenty-five

  That make my life up, Oxford years and all —

  Throw in the three I fooled away abroad.

  Seeing myself and nobody more sage

  Until I met you, and you made me man

  Such as the sort is and the fates allow.

  I do think, since we two kept company,

  I’ve learnt to know a little — all through you!

  It’s nature if I like you. Taunt away!

  As if I need you teaching me my place —

  The snob I am, the Duke your brother is.

  When just the good you did was — teaching me

  My own trade, how a snob and millionaire

  May lead his life and let the Duke’s alone,

  Clap wings, free jackdaw, on his steeple-perch,

  Burnish his black to gold in sun and air,

  Nor pick up stray plumes, strive to match in strut

  Regular peacocks who can’t fly an inch

  Over the courtyard-paling. Head and heart

  (That’s album-style) are older than you know.

  For all your knowledge: boy, perhaps — ay, boy

  Had his adventure, just as he were man —

  His ball-experience in the shoulder-blade,

  His bit of life-long ache to recognize,

  Although he bears it cheerily about.

  Because you came and clapped him on the back.

  Advised him ‘Walk and wear the aching off!’

  Why, I was minded to sit down for life

  Just in Dalmatia, build a sea-side tower

  High on a rock, and so expend my days

  Pursuing chemistry or botany

  Or, very like, astronomy because

  I noticed stars shone when I passed the place:

  Letting my cash accumulate the while 300

  In England — to lay out in lump at last

  As Ruskin should direct me! All or some

  Of which should I have done or tried to do,

  And preciously repented, one fine day,

  Had you discovered Timon, climbed his rock

  And scaled his tower, some ten years thence, suppose,

  And coaxed his story from him! Don’t I see

  The pair conversing! It’s a novel writ

  Already, I’ll be bound, — our dialogue!

  ‘What?’ cried the elder and yet youthful man —

  So did the eye flash ‘neath the lordly front,

  And the imposing presence swell with scorn,

  As the haught high-bred bearing and dispose

  Contrasted with his interlocutor

  The flabby low-born who, of bulk before,

  Had steadily increased, one stone per week,

  Since his abstention from horse-exercise: —

  ‘What? you, as rich as Rothschild, left, you say,

  London the very year you came of age,

  Because your father manufactured goods —

  Commission-agent hight of Manchester —

  Partly, and partly through a baby case

  Of disappointment I’ve pumped out at last —

  And here you spend life’s prime in gaining flesh

  And giving science one more asteroid?’

  Brief, my dear fellow, you instructed me.

  At Alfred’s and not Istria! proved a snob

  May turn a million to account although

  His brother be no Duke, and see good days

  Without the girl he lost and some one gained.

  The end is, after one year’s tutelage.

  Having, by your help, touched society.

  Polo, Tent-pegging, Hurlingham, the Rink —

  I leave all these delights, by your advice,

  And marry my young pretty cousin here

  Whose place, whose oaks ancestral you behold.

  (Her father was in partnership with mine —

  Does not his purchase look a pedigree?)

  My million will be tails and tassels smart

  To this plump-bodied kite, this house and land

  Which, set a-soaring, pulls me, soft as sleep,

  Along life’s pleasant meadow, — arm left free

  To lock a friend’s in, — whose but yours, old boy?

  Arm in arm glide we over rough and smooth,

  While hand, to pocket held, saves cash from cards.

  Now, if you don’t esteem ten thousand pounds

  ( — Which I shall probably discover snug

  Hid somewhere in the column-corner capped

  With ‘Credit,’ based on ‘Balance,’ — which, I swear,

  By this time next month I shall quite forget

  Whether I lost or won — ten thousand pounds,

  Which at this instant I would give . . . let’s see.

  For Galopin — nay, for that Gainsborough

  Sir Richard won’t sell, and, if bought by me,

  Would get my glance and praise some twice a year, —

  Well, if you don’t esteem that price dirt-cheap

  For teaching me Dalmatia was mistake —

  Why then, my last illusion-bubble breaks,

  My one discovered phœnix proves a goose,

  My cleverest of all companions — oh,

  Was worth nor ten pence nor ten thousand pounds!

  Come! Be yourself again! So endeth here

  The morning’s lesson! Never while life lasts

  Do I touch card again. To breakfast now!

  To bed — I can’t say, since you needs must start

  For station early — oh, the down-train still,

  First plan and best plan — townward trip be hanged!

  You’re due at your big brother’s — pay that debt.

  Then owe me not a farthing! Order eggs —

  And who knows but there’s trout obtainable?”

  The fine man looks well-nigh malignant: then —

  “Sir, please subdue your manner! Debts are debts:

  I pay mine — debts of this sort — certainly.

  What do I care how you regard your gains.

  Want them or want them not? The thing I want

  Is — not to have a story circulate

  From club to club — how, bent on clearing out

  Young So-and-so, young So-and-so cleaned me,

  Then set the empty kennel flush again.

  Ignored advantage and forgave his friend —

  For why? There was no wringing blood from stone!

  Oh, don’t be savage! You would hold your tongue,

  Bite it in two, as man may; but those small

  Hours in the smoking-room, when instance apt

  Rises to tongue’s root, tingles on to tip,

  And the thinned company consists of six

  Capital well-known fellows one may trust!

  Next week, it’s in the ‘World.’ No, thank you much.<
br />
  I owe ten thousand pounds: I’ll pay them!”

  ”Now, —

  This becomes funny. You’ve made friends with me?

  I can’t help knowing of the ways and means!

  Or stay! they say your brother closets up

  Correggio’s long-lost Leda: if he means

  To give you that, and if you give it me . . .”

  “I polished snob off to aristocrat?

  You compliment me! father’s apron still

  Sticks out from son’s court-vesture: still silk purse

  Roughs finger with some bristle sow-ear-born!

  Well, neither I nor you mean harm at heart!

  I owe you and shall pay you: which premised, 400

  Why should what follows sound like flattery?

  The fact is — you do compliment too much

  Your humble master, as I own I am;

  You owe me no such thanks as you protest.

  The polisher needs precious stone no less

  Than precious stone needs polisher: believe

  I struck no tint from out you but I found

  Snug lying first ‘neath surface hair-breadth-deep!

  Beside, I liked the exercise: with skill

  Goes love to show skill for skill’s sake. You see,

  I’m old and understand things: too absurd

  It were you pitched and tossed away your life.

  As diamond were Scotch-pebble! all the more,

  That I myself misused a stone of price.

  Born and bred clever — people used to say

  Clever as most men, if not something more —

  Yet here I stand a failure, cut awry

  Or left opaque, — no brilliant named and known,

  Whatever my inner stuff, my outside’s blank:

  I’m nobody — or rather, look that same —

  I’m — who I am — and know it; but I hold

  What in my hand out for the world to see?

  What ministry, what mission, or what book

  I’ll say, book even? Not a sign of these!

  I began — laughing — ‘All these when I like!’

  I end with — well, you’ve hit it! — ‘This boy’s cheque

  For just as many thousands as he he’ll spare!’

  The first — I could, and would not; your spare cash

  I would, and could not: have no scruple, pray,

  But, as I hoped to pocket yours, pouch mine

  — When you are able!”

  “Which is — when to be?

  I’ve heard, great characters require a fall

  Of fortune to show greatness by uprise:

  They touch the ground to jollily rebound,

  Add to the Album! Let a fellow share

  Your secret of superiority!

  I know, my banker makes the money breed

  Money; I eat and sleep, he simply takes

  The dividends and cuts the coupons off,