AN EXPOSITION OF 'SORDELLO.'

BOOK THE FIRST.

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Browning raises Sordello out of the darkness of the Middle Ages, tells how he will treat his subject, and collects an audience.

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raises

I AM about to tell the story of Sordello. If you give me your hearty attention it will indeed be more than Browning a story; for I will describe him so vividly that he Sordello. will seem to live before you. He is distinct to me, even amid dark and confused times of old history; just as, amid the dust on the lower ground, Don Quixote, standing on his hill, could discern Pentapolin doing battle.

Out of this dark period I bring Verona.

the work.

First, however, let me say that, but for one con- 10-31. sideration, I would not have chosen the narrative form The form of for my poem. I would rather have made Sordello the subject of a drama-would have merely introduced him, as it were, and then sat with you to see him act out his part without comment of mine. But he is a strange character, and difficult to deal with; therefore, as the exhibitor of any extraordinary object either chalks its

A

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consists of a

few of the living and

many of the dead.

name over it, or describes it at the end of his pointer, I must set him up before you and discuss and criticise him in detail.

So, my audience, I am ready to address you. Some His audience of you are spirits of departed bards, coming hither from heaven or from hell. If fate denies us living admirers, we poets can fish up friends from the dead to hear us; so that it is not hers to say whether we, being popular, may go on with our songs, or, being unpopular, shall have to keep silence. Grant that I have a mere handful of live admirers, see what a host I can bring from the grave, to learn how we modern poets deal with the great art. There they sit, trying to look life-like! Keen critic of long ago, you are cheek by jowl withBut I might stir up old animosities and, by causing a disturbance in the audience, move the anger of Death, who, as it is, grudges them leave of absence.

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Browning not indifferent to praise.

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The shade of Shelley is invited to

stay away.

Well, friends, I mean my live ones, chosen because you care something for me,-do not think I am indifferent to judicious praise: I will watch you, to make sure you give my story a fair chance, and will try to win your approval.

Now let Verona appear!

But wait once more! Spirit of Shelley, join not the ranks of my hearers, lest you paralyse me with your pure face. You alone I fear of all the spirits. Your poetry is so fine that I dare make no effort in your presence. Compared with yours, the language of Eschylus sounds like the noise of his spear at Marathon when it rasped the opposing Persian's shield; and even the silver speech of Sidney, that most brilliant knight, sounds like the harsh note of trumpets at a tournament. How could I find heart to keep my characters performing before this my worthy audience if you were here?

6. 'Pentapolin.' Looking down on the dust raised by a flock of sheep, Don Quixote persuades Sancho into a vision of the army of Alifanfaron. "And that other behind us," he adds, "belongs to his mortal enemy, the king of the Garamanteans, known by

the name of Pentapolin with the naked arm, because he always goes to battle with the sleeve of his right arm tucked up" (Don Quixote, Pt. 1. ch. iv.)

25. 'fresh-chapleted.' Like guests listening to songs at a Greek or a Roman banquet. Or perhaps as poets who have been crowned for victory in their art.

52. 'clear-witted critic, by.' The side of a poet he has handled severely.

60. thou, spirit.' Browning was an enthusiastic admirer of Shelley. Compare his apostrophe in Pauline

"Sun-treader, life and light be thine for ever."

His Essay on Shelley (1852) shows his admiration did not belong only to his youth.

65. 'the Athenian.' Eschylus fought against the Persians not only at Marathon but at Plataea and Salamis.

69. 'Sidney's self.' Sir Philip Sidney is credited with having developed English as a literary tongue. See Hallam's Introduction to the Literature of Europe, Pt. II. ch. vii.

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Bringing up Verona, the poet sets us in the midst of Guelf and Ghibellin strife.

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appears.

Here, then, comes Verona, thrust up out of the dark past, and gradually gaining some clearness of outline. Verona Our piece of history is more than six hundred years old. Frederick the Second was then Holy Roman Emperor, and Honorius the Third was Pope.

It was a quiet autumn evening. The crimson light of the setting sun, as it lay on the dark distant woods, looked like the flame of a giant torch, of which the black forest formed the stock. But only one eye rested. on the still beauty of the sky. The city was all excitement, and among the groups that gathered in the marketplace words of passion were heard, and faces were livid. with anger, for men who trade in death were among them in the hope of urging them to fight. And to note how the wine of hate, the fruit of fear, worked differently in different sets! Old men with dead-cold

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Excitement in the city.

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Their prince a prisoner.

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Two parties

in Verona.

127-187. What led to

the capture of their prince.

hearts shut their eyes as if they relished a pleasant drink, while the young were mad with delight at the thought of their first taste of blood.

Now, here is what caused the excitement.

The Prince of Verona, Count Richard of St Boniface, who, a year before, had joined with Azzo, Lord of Este, to drive Taurello Salinguerra, Ecelin of Romano's righthand man, out of Ferrara, had overreached himself, and was a prisoner in Taurello's hands.

These evil tidings make the Veronese seek help for Azzo and Boniface from the Lombard League, which was composed of fifteen cities, banded together to promote the Guelf, or Papal, cause. Not all the citizens, however, are on the same side. "Your purple shield is down," cries one of the Ghibellin party. "Azzo of Este only makes himself a laughing-stock when he tries to imitate Ecelin; as if it were a small matter to rise

to power like his ! The patron tells you plainly that

Ecelin is to be head in the land."

Your

"By all that's sacred," retorts one of the Estians, "why should our Azzo not rise to be supreme? leader may get on at times by dint of a certain cunning, but ours, in spite of a reverse or two, is a noble character. Your Ecelin is a hill-cat; our Azzo is a lion."

One of the envoys then explains how Count Boniface was caught at Ferrara, his story going back to show what led up to the catastrophe.

"At Ferrara," he said, "Taurello Salinguerra was, some time ago, like an osprey that mopes far inland on the ground till the tempest awakes and calls him to flight. Taurello waited for the Emperor, but Frederick came not. Besides, his leader, Ecelin da Romano, had turned monk, and was withering away at Oliero, where he sat doited, counting how many of his wicked ancestors would have to give way to him in the high places of hell when he got there. The Guelfs accordingly became confident in Ferrara. When you hear that one of them could pass safely through a crowd of

Ghibellins on a narrow street, you may imagine what a change had taken place.

"Suddenly Taurello Salinguerra went off to be Podestà at Padua. 'I am supposed to be the only cause of strife here in Ferrara,' he said, 'and I will go for the sake of peace.' No sooner was his back turned than the Guelfs attacked the Ghibellins, burned their two palaces, and ravaged their gardens. But the following week their delight was converted into terror. In some mysterious way Taurello was back, riding through the blood of his enemies. Azzo fled, followed by any others that were not caught and killed, and Salinguerra was once more sole master of the city.

camp

Salinguerra.

"After a time, however, Azzo, feeling stronger, got 172-187. Count Richard to join him in trying to win Ferrara He had been entrapped by from the Ghibellin. The siege was a cruel one. The Taurello burghers were maddened by seeing the enemies' established amid the corn on the small piece of land they had laboriously reclaimed from the marsh, while they themselves were reduced to cannibalism. At last Taurello invited Count Richard within the walls, that terms of peace might be arranged. Richard enters the city. With kindly consideration he takes with him. only a few retainers, lest he should terrify the more timid citizens! They jog along easily, annoyed by the sight of the large number of Guelf houses Salinguerra had burned. The place is marvellously silent. 'Why doesn't he come to meet us, since he has given in?' quoth the Count.

"And they find themselves Taurello Salinguerra's prisoners!"

Such, then, was the aspect of affairs six hundred years 186-205. ago. Frederick II. had dropped all pretence of being in Frederick II., being excomany way dependent on the Papacy. Refusing to go on municated, a crusade to help John of Brienne, who sought to take descends on Lombardy. possession of the Holy City, of which he was called king, and being determined not to give back to the Papal power what Otho and Barbarossa had wrested from it, he was excommunicated. Barbarossa come to life