Data Bases • Custom Term Papers • Free Term Papers • Free Research Papers • Free Essays • Free Book Reports • Plagiarism? Links • Top 100 Term Paper Sites • Top 25 Essay Sites • Top 50 Essay Sites • Search 97,000 Papers @ DirectEssays.com • Search 101,000 Papers @ ExampleEssays.com • Search 90,000 Papers @ MegaEssays.com Free Essays • Term Paper Sites • Chuck III's Free Essays • Free College Essays • TermPaperSites.com • My Term Papers • Get Free Essays • Essay World • Planet Papers	Search Lots of Essays Back to Subjects - Psychology The Works and Influence of Robert Browning The Works and Influence of Robert Browning The Works and Influence of Robert Browning Robert Browning was one of the most recognized and respected poets of his time. The Victorian period that he lived in and his upbringing made him the dramatic and intelligent poet that he was. His most famous types of poetry were his lyrical and romantic poems. Browning influenced poetic society with his dramatic monologues, long poems, and silent listener techniques. He can be compared to Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Alfred Lord Tennyson, other literary figures of the time. Therefore, because of Browning’s unique and sometimes absurd poetry, people have been fascinated with his writing and still are today. Born in 1812, Robert Browning was one of the most recognized poets of the Victorian Age. Guided by the influence of his father he was reading and writing by the age of five (Everett 1). His father, a scholar and artist, gave Browning a huge variety of different books from a collection of 6,000 volumes in six languages. Browning and his father used to bond by sitting around together analyzing books they had both read. In his adolescent years he flourished in his studies and became quite the young poet by the age of twelve (Brainard 253). When Browning was twelve he wrote a handful of poems, which he entitled “Incondita.” Though he wrote almost nothing between the ages of thirteen to twenty, he seemed to show the makings of a great poet with his collection of juvenile creations. His two most prominent of these poems, “The Dance of Death,” and, “The First Born of Egypt,” reflect his influences from other poetry of the time and his adolescent emotions. When the young Browning matured into an adult, in 1832, he published Pauline. The poem about a deep infatuation with the imaginary Pauline conveyed a depressive and saddening image. Critics of Browning's at the time commented that his plays (also including Paracelsus and Sordella) carried with them a morbid self - consciousness. When questioned about his early poems Browning explained that while writing he portrayed different characters that he did not realize. Though Browning’s first three poems were not that successful they helped explain his earlier hopes and poetic style. After many tumultuous years of ridicule and development of his poetry Browning finally met his angel (and soon to be wife), Elizabeth Barrett, a well-known poet herself. With her help and popularity Elizabeth gave Browning the push he needed to resolve the difficulties he was facing with his poetry. Browning went on to publish collections such as Christmas Eve and Easter Day which represented his serious approaches on issues such as religion and others which he had incorporated into his fiction. As the years progressed Browning sharpened his skills and direction. Browning loved drama. He believed that every person had in himself or herself the ability to be good or evil. Tastes, talents, and weaknesses, were necessary elements of the total man (Loving 13). Because of his education and ways of thinking his poems were sometimes absurd and hard to comprehend by many readers. The pamphlets that he wrote; Dramatic Lyrics, Romances, and Personae collaborate his love of music, nature, beauty, and man. In “Count Gismond,” from Dramatic Lyrics, the narrator is portrayed as a woman who marries a man who has been searching for love all his life: Christ God who savest man, save most Of men Count Gismond who saved me! Count Gauthier, when he chose his post, Chose time and place and company To suit it; when he struck at length My honour, 't was with all his strength. And doubtlessly, ere he could draw All points to one, he must have schemed! Few half so happy as I seemed, While being dressed in queen's array I thought they loved me, did me grace To please themselves; 't was all their deed; God makes, or fair or foul, our face; If showing mine so caused to bleed My cousins' hearts, they should have dropped A word, and straight the play had stopped. They, too, so beauteous! Each a queen By virtue of her brow and breast; Not needing to be crowned, I mean, As I do. E'en when I was dressed, Had either of them spoke, instead Of glancing sideways with still head! But no: they let me laugh, and sing My birthday song quite through, adjust The last rose in my garland, fling A last look on the mirror, trust My arms to each an arm of theirs, And so descend the castle-stairs- And come out on the morning troop Of merry friends who kissed my cheek, And called me queen, and made me stoop That pierced it, of the outside sun, Powdered with gold its gloom's soft dun)- And they could let me take my state And foolish throne amid applause My queen's-day-Oh I think the cause Of much was, they forgot no crowd Makes up for parents in their shroud! However that be, all eyes were bent Upon me, when my cousins cast Theirs down; 't was time I should present The victor's crown, but ... there, 't will last No long time ... the old mist again Blinds me as then it did. How vain! See! Gismond's at the gate, in talk With his two boys: I can proceed. Well, at that moment, who should stalk Forth boldly-to my face, indeed- But Gauthier? and he thundered "Stay!" And all stayed. "Bring no crowns, I say! "Bring torches! Wind the penance-sheet "About her! Let her shun the chaste, "Or lay herself before their feet! "Shall she, whose body I embraced "A night long, queen it in the day? "For honour's sake no crowns, I say!" What says the body when they spring Some monstrous torture-engine's whole Strength on it? No more says the soul. Till out strode Gismond; then I knew That I was saved. I never met His face before, but, at first view, I felt quite sure that God had set Himself to Satan; would who spend He strode to Gauthier, in his throat Gave him the lie, then struck his mouth With one back-handed blow that wrote In blood men's verdict there. North, South, East, West, I looked. The lie was dead, And damned, and truth stood up instead. This glads me most, that I enjoyed The heart o' the joy, with my content Watch Gismond for my part: I did. His armourer just brace his greaves, The while! His foot ... my memory leaves He pulled his ringing gauntlets on. And e'en before the trumpet's sound Was finished, prone lay the false knight, Prone as his lie, upon the ground: Gismond flew at him, used no sleight O' the sword, but open-breasted drove, Cleaving till out the truth he clove. Which done, he dragged him to my feet And said, "Here die, but end thy breath "In full confession, lest thou fleet "From my first, to God's second death! "Say, hast thou lied? "And, "I have lied "To God and her,"he said, and died. Then Gismond, kneeling to me, asked -What safe my heart holds, though no word My powers for ever, to a third Dear even as you are. Pass the rest Against the world; and scarce I felt His sword (that dripped by me and swung) A little shifted in its belt: How South our home lay many a mile. We two walked forth to never more Their life, untroubled as before I vexed them. Gauthier's dwelling-place God lighten! May his soul find grace! Great brow, tho' when his brother's black Full eye shows scorn, it ... Gismond here? And have you brought my tercel back? How many birds it struck since May. Count Gismond has always fallen in and out of love with friends and women because he says that they always betray him in the end ( Smalley 51). The countess is the one to break the spell and so they are married. The Count vows to get revenge on the once beloved friends, now foes, which he seeks out to kill. The countess, a religious women, believes in prayer and faith and says: Christ God with savest man, save most To suit it; when he struck at length My honour, ’twas with all his strength The countess will stick by Count Gismond’s side even when he decides to seek revenge on the old friends that he now loathes. Browning leads the poem to take a turn when he conveys mysterious undertones of the countess’ true unhappiness with her life and husband ( Roberts 102). The countess is distressed by her husband’s vices, though she tries to make herself believe they are virtues. In all actuality the countess is distressed by her husband’s antics against those he loved before. The poem notes how the countess is weary as she walks alongside her husband’s dripping sword and how she sees her husband in her young son’s black scornful eyes ( Adams 1), proving there may be more to the poem than meets the eye. “My Last Duchess” is another of Browning's famous poems from Dramatic Lyrics: That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Will 't please you sit and look at her? I said "Frà Pandolf" by design, for never read Strangers like you that pictured countenance, The depth and passion of its earnest glance, But to myself they turned (since none puts by The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, How such a glance came there; so, not the first Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not Her husband's presence only, called that spot Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps Frà Pandolf chanced to say, "Her mantle laps Over my Lady's wrist too much," or "Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat"; such stuff Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough For calling up that spot of joy. She had A heart . . . how shall I say? . . . too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast, The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace--all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, Or blush, at least. She thanked men,--good; but thanked Somehow . . . I know not how . . . as if she ranked My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame This sort of trifling? Even had you skill In speech--(which I have not)--to make your will Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, Or there exceed the mark"--and if she let Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, --E'en then would be some stooping; and I chuse Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt, Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive. Will 't please you rise? We'll meet The company below, then. I repeat, The Count your Master's known munificence Is ample warrant that no just pretence Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go Together down, Sir! Notice Neptune, though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me It is one of his most representative dramatic monologues. The Duke is looking at the picture of his deceased wife on the wall and mourning her beauty and her being and how he will never love another again (Roberts 103). Browning makes it seem as if the Duke is speaking to the reader while in all actuality (which is not found out until later in the poem) he is speaking to the convoy of a count. This leads the reader to immerse himself in the poem, and for the time being be inside the poem as one of the characters. The Duke comments on how his wife was always happy. When she died the Duke claimed that no one around could smile anymore. By leaving just the dramatic dialogue Browning purposefully leaves the reader wondering about the poem long after it is over because only one side of the story gets to be heard. There is no one else around and the picture can not talk so the reader is led to believe what the Duke says to be true, even though it may not be. Besides lyrical poems Browning also wrote Dramatic Romances. He loved nature and beauty, but he also loved the bond between a man and a woman. In the romantic poem, “The Bishop Orders the Tomb,” the preacher of a church doesn’t know if he is alive or dead: Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews--sons mine . . . ah God, I know not! Well-- She, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What's done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since, And as she died so must we die ourselves, And thence ye may perceive the world's a dream. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask "Do I live, am I dead?" Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed's ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: --Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care; Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South He graced his carrion with, God curse the same! Yet still my niche is not so cramped but thence One sees the pulpit o' the epistle-side, And somewhat of the choir, those silent seats, And up into the aery dome where live The angels, and a sunbeam's sure to lurk: And I shall fill my slab of basalt there, And 'neath my tabernacle take my rest, With those nine columns round me, two and two, The odd one at my feet where Anselm stands: Peach-blossom marble all, the rare, the ripe As fresh-poured red wine of a mighty pulse. --Old Gandolf with his paltry onion-stone, Put me where I may look at him! True peach, Rosy and flawless: how I earned the prize! Draw close: that conflagration of my church --What then? So much was saved if aught were missed! My sons, ye would not be my death? Go dig The white-grape vineyard where the oil-press stood, Drop water gently till the surface sink, And if ye find . . . Ah God, I know not, I! ... Bedded in store of rotten fig-leaves soft, And corded up in a tight olive-frail, Some lump, ah God, of lapis lazuli, Big as a Jew's head cut off at the nape, Blue as a vein o'er the Madonna's breast ... Sons, all have I bequeathed you, villas, all, That brave Frascati villa with its bath, So, let the blue lump poise between my knees, Like God the Father's globe on both His hands Ye worship in the Jesu Church so gay, For Gandolf shall not choose but see and burst! Swift as a weaver's shuttle fleet our years: Man goeth to the grave, and where is he? Did I say basalt for my slab, sons? Black-- 'Twas ever antique-black I meant! How else Shall ye contrast my frieze to come beneath? The bas-relief in bronze ye promised me, Those Pans and Nymphs ye wot of, and perchance Some tripod, thyrsus, with a vase or so, The Saviour at his sermon on the mount, Saint Praxed in a glory, and one Pan Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off, And Moses with the tables . . . but I know Ye mark me not! What do they whisper thee, Child of my bowels, Anselm? Ah, ye hope To revel down my villas while I gasp Bricked o'er with beggar's mouldy travertine Which Gandolf from his tomb-top chuckles at! Nay, boys, ye love me--all of jasper, then! 'Tis jasper ye stand pledged to, lest I grieve. My bath must needs be left behind, alas! One block, pure green as a pistachio-nut, There's plenty jasper somewhere in the world-- And have I not Saint Praxed's ear to pray Horses for ye, and brown Greek manuscripts, And mistresses with great smooth marbly limbs? --That's if ye carve my epitaph aright, Choice Latin, picked phrase, Tully's every word, No gaudy ware like Gandolf's second line-- Tully, my masters? Ulpian serves his need! And then how I shall lie through centuries, And hear the blessed mutter of the mass, And see God made and eaten all day long, And feel the steady candle-flame, and taste Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke! For as I lie here, hours of the dead night, Dying in state and by such slow degrees, I fold my arms as if they clasped a crook, And stretch my feet forth straight as stone can point, And let the bedclothes, for a mortcloth, drop Into great laps and folds of sculptor's-work: And as yon tapers dwindle, and strange thoughts Grow, with a certain humming in my ears, About the life before I lived this life, And this life too, popes, cardinals and priests, Saint Praxed at his sermon on the mount, Your tall pale mother with her talking eyes, And new-found agate urns as fresh as day, And marble's language, Latin pure, discreet, --Aha, ELUCESCEBAT quoth our friend? No Tully, said I, Ulpian at the best! Evil and brief hath been my pilgrimage. All lapis, all, sons! Else I give the Pope My villas! Will ye ever eat my heart? Ever your eyes were as a lizard's quick, They glitter like your mother's for my soul, Or ye would heighten my impoverished frieze, Piece out its starved design, and fill my vase With grapes, and add a vizor and a Term, And to the tripod ye would tie a lynx That in his struggle throws the thyrsus down, Whereon I am to lie till I must ask "Do I live, am I dead?" There, leave me, there! For ye have stabbed me with ingratitude To death--ye wish it--God, ye wish it! Stone-- Gritstone, a-crumble! Clammy squares which sweat As if the corpse they keep were oozing through-- And no more lapis to delight the world! Well, go! I bless ye. Fewer tapers there, But in a row: and, going, turn your backs --Ay, like departing altar-ministrants, And leave me in my church, the church for peace, That I may watch at leisure if he leers-- Old Gandolf, at me, from his onion-stone, As still he envied me, so fair she was This poem is another of Browning’s monologues (Landow 2). The bishop’s wife passed away long before he expected, because he expected that they would pass away together. He can’t understand why he is alive and he feels like death has cheated him. He would rather be with his wife in his old age then all alone. He questions if he really is dead because he feels like it inside. He talks about how he will be buried; yet describes death and being buried so horribly. Browning has the old man tell how much he wants to die, but also has the bishop describe death so grimly to illustrate how the man is still afraid to die. The poem is one of Browning’s unique, full of mixed and construed emotions overlapping each other. Browning heavily influenced poetic society for all time. He mastered and left behind poetic devices that modern poets of today still use. He invented the dramatic monologue, a poem with a speaker and an implied auditor where there is a gap between what the speaker says and what he actually reveals( Landow 1). He wrote long Victorian poetic forms, which were contemporary versions of a miniature epic. He also created the silent listener, the implied listener in the poem who never speaks. All of these devices made Browning the poet that society will long remember. The device that Browning will be remembered the most for is the dramatic monologue. There is always a point of entry where the speaker seems as if he is talking to the reader and pulls him into the poem. The reader eventually begins not to sympathize with the speaker anymore because of the arguments they can not hear from the other side. They then begin to doubt the words and ideas of the speaker and by the time the poem is completed they are wondering about the other side of the story, which they did not get to hear. The long Victorian poems that Browning wrote always had themes. They always defined the role of the poet and redefined other major literary forms. His long poems always employed devices of epic and romance, always testing the hero to the furthest bonds. Browning’s most famous long poems were, “The Ring and the Book” and “The Idylls of a King.” All Victorian long poems were set in the Victorian era. Most of Browning’s plays were reactions to things that happened in the past. How a husband felt after his wife had been dead. How a man wants revenge on people whom did him wrong in the past? How a bishop wants to be buried because he feels like he should have died long ago. Browning uses his silent listener device to make the reader think about the events that happened in the past that they can never fully understand. The reader is the silent listener who can not speak, even though they may wish to, and can not ask questions, just listen to the one- sided information that they are being told. Through his literary devices Browning always makes the reader wonder. Browning can be compared equally paralleled to one female and one male poet of the Victorian age. His wife, Elizabeth Barrett Browning (a more accomplished writer than he) had a unique style of writing compared to his, yet they still influenced each other and picked up techniques from each other. Alfred Lord Tennyson, his equal to greatness in the time period, wrote very differently than Browning, yet they were still often compared. Though the three all wrote differently they respected each other’s writings and benefited from each other. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was an intelligent woman even though she had no formal education, unlike Browning. Elizabeth also loved to write about Romance. They used to write each other love letters when they were apart; today they are all compiled into a book (Edwards 27). Nearly six hundred letters passed between them, and these not only show the depth of feeling between the two poets, but also the close sympathy between two creative minds (Stack 13). Elizabeth wrote many Victorian Sonnets while Browning only wrote a few. The few that he did write were very similar in form to his wife’s. While Browning often wrote about the perils and complications of love Elizabeth mostly wrote about the joys and the beauty of it. There will never be a more perfect literary couple than Barrett and Browning. Browning was second to only one literary figure during his life, and that was Alfred Lord Tennyson. The major aspect in which the two poets were alike is that they both used the dramatic monologue accompanied with the silent listener. The reasons that they differed were that Tennyson was content to locate his themes in a familiar context while Browning inclined to recondite subject matter and to experiment with methods (Johnson 7). Tennyson was introspective while Browning was intraspective, but both contributed to the times greatly with the poems they produced. Browning is one of the greatest literary figures of all time and one that will always be hailed and remembered. The Victorian Period, which he lived in, and his upbringing made him the dramatic and intelligent poet that he was. His most famous types of poetry were his lyrical and romantic poems. Browning influenced poetic society with his dramatic monologues, long poems, and silent listener techniques. He can be compared to Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Alfred Lord Tennyson, other literary figures of the time. Therefore, because of Browning’s unique and sometimes absurd poetry, people have been fascinated with his writing and still are today. Bibliography: The Works and Influence of Robert Browning Because of Browning’s unique and sometimes absurd poetry, people have been fascinated with his writing and still are today. I. Introduction A. History of Browning B. Poetry C. Influence on poetic society D. Comparison of poets II. History of Browning A. Victorian Period 1. Government 2. Society a. High class b. Moods of poetry 3. Church 4. Industry a. Expansion b. Unemployment B. Browning’s life 1. Youth a. Father b. Reading 2. Poet a. Poems and Plays b. Elizabeth III. Poetry A. Dramatic Lyrics 1. “Count Gismond” a. Explanation b. Undertones 2. “The Last Duchess” a. Explanation b. Dramatic dialogue B. Dramatic Romances 1. “The Bishop Orders his Tomb” a. Explanation b. Monologue IV. Influence on poetic society A. Dramatic monologue B. Long Poem C. Silent Listener V. Comparison of Poets A. Elizabeth Barrett Browning B. Alfred Lord Tennyson VI. Conclusion A. History of Browning B. Poetry C. Influence on poetic society D. Comparison of poets Word Count: 4300
Copyright © 2005 College Term Papers, INC All Rights Reserved.