Chapter II. The sea plays no such part in the verse of Browning as in that of Tennyson. for whom nature has no value in herself; she is merely an Browning is wholly incident, and not a very important one, a slight, background for the drama of the individual life. occupied with the problems that confront the soul of man, and with art and society as the products of man; he even, as it seems to me, neglects the very important part that nature often plays in the spiritual growth. Pauline is of course in some respects an exception, but, retained in the writer's works "with extreme repugnance" it has no claim to be considered an expression of his mature mind. He seems,more over, unlike Tennyson, to have consciously rejected anything remotely resembling the Wordsworthian view of nature: "You did not feel what was not to be felt." (1) to try It is somewhat perilous to deduce the personal feelings of a poet from works which are largely made up of "so many utterances of so many imaginary persons", but after all there must be some significance in such consistent subordination of nature. (1) Prince Hohenstiel-Schwargau. This study, however, concerns itself only with his treatment of the sea. Sea-poetry, strictly speaking, there is none, unless an exception is made of Home Thoughts from the Sea, with its splendid recognition of England's "The gray sea and the long black land; And quench its speed i' the slushy sand. Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's rim: And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me. These descriptions are very exceptional. Browning does not, as a rule, like Tennyson seize upon that which we have all seen and loved for its beauty; rarely does he constrain us to cry out: "This I have seen and heard. felt. Thus I have He prefers to select some unusual or grotesque phenomenon, "A dead gulf streaked with light From its own putrefying depths alone. volcanoes bursting forth in mid-ocean, Paracelsus, II; "The wroth sea's waves are edged With foam, white as the bitten edge of hate, When in the solitary waste, strange groups Of young volcanoes come up, cyclops-like Staring at each other with their eyes on flame." "As he loomed Paracelsus, V; (1) O'er the midland sea last month." (of AEtna) Sodello,III "The volcano's vapor-flag winds hoist Black o'er the spread of sea. Ibid, VI. |