Seventeenth Meeting, Friday, June 22, 1883. W. F. REVELL, Esq., in the Chair. MR. FURNIVALL explaind that, as Mr. Cyril Johnson's illness had prevented him from finishing the Paper he had promist for this evening, part of a Paper read by the Rev. J. D. Williams (Vicar of Bottisham) before the Cambridge Browning Society would be read first, and then a Paper by Mrs. Turnbull on Abt Vogler. Mr. Williams's Paper containd an account of The Blot in the 'Scutcheon, with a few comments on it; and an Appendix, written at Canon Westcott's request, on Browning's Guendolen compared with Shakspere's Beatrice. This Appendix was what he (Mr. F.) would read to-night. A BLOT IN THE 'SCUTCHEON. BY THE REV. J. D. WILLIAMS. APPENDIX. Guendolen as compared with Shakspere's Beatrice. The comparison of Guendolen with Beatrice springs chiefly from the likeness of their situations; yet being once suggested, and due allowance made for the change of manners due to an interval of two hundred and fifty years, no two beings could be more fitly coupled. The average Englishman, if asked to explain Much ado about Nothing,' would do so in few words: "a preliminary fuss ending in a couple of weddings." The fortunes of Benedick and Beatrice, of Claudio and Hero, may surely engage our attention without our having first apprehended the poet's "scheme of things in general," and learnt that his Grundidee lies in his conception of the essential contrast of the subjective aspect and the objective reality of human life. The love-match of Benedick and Beatrice is the Alpha and Omega of this delicious comedy. Probably the poet never watched more joyously his own creation than when the winsome figure of Beatrice grew into life; its original wilfulness without loss of strength tempering its softness; its flashes of wildness and gleams of purest affection coloured and enlivened with touches of exquisite humour. In her saucy outbreaks, her sparkling raillery, there is many a coup risqué and occasionally a coup manqué; self-reliance touches the verge of frowardness, and her unconscious freedoms ask for our genial construction towards one "born," as she prettily says, "to speak all mirth and no matter." She is, as the French critic calls her, "cette charmante et redoutable femme." Prononcée-pert, if you will, positive, petulant, and all that helps the alliteration; she stands apart from the majority of Shakspere's heroines, whose characteristics are negative and retiring. She must class with the Portias, Rosalinds, and Violas, who are drawn into exceptional action. Times and manners change. A young lady now-a-days might promise not to go mad till a hot January"; she might inquire after "Signor Montanto" and the "last of his five wits," or venture on saying to the object of her persecutions, "I wonder you will still be talking, nobody marks you;" but she would talk less freely of "leading apes in hell," of "wooing, wedding, and repenting." Beatrice, after the fashion of the time, might jest on the possibilities of marriage, but all this is out of date in the 19th century. Guendolen expends her fun and frolic on the stately calm of Earl Tresham, wedded to his great name and ancestry; on the sober-sidedness of Austin, on the apparent stupidity of Mertoun. It is after the discovery, and Tresham's unmitigated condemnation of the crime, that she shows her true colours, like Beatrice beside the calumniated Hero. "What, and leave Mildred! We? Why where's my place But by her side, and where's yours but by mine?" Beatrice, on the gay and intellectual side, ran a risk of being found socially incompatible, acrimonious, and scornful in her determination to veil her genuine impulses. The garden scene reveals to her the true state of her affections, and henceforth it needs only time to readjust the situation; in defence of Hero she is unimpeachable in her justice as in her generosity. Guendolen, in taking part with her less deserving but not less pitiable cousin, cuts asunder the knot of a far more difficult question. She has laughed at Earl Tresham's devotion to the 'scutcheon, while at heart she respects it; she is a type of unstained womanhood, incapable of receiving or of pardoning degradation. Of two alternatives, which shall she embrace? Shall she refuse to touch pitch lest she be defiled, and turn away in sorrow, if not scorn, from misery she dare not alleviate? or shall she show the world that her superiority to convention has not been a mere whim, but an instinctive seizure of Truth, Virtue, and Goodness, soaring above selfish morality? Her action decides the issues of the drama and the completeness of her portraiture. We feel something unnatural in the plot, and some sense of injustice at the trial forced upon her, and are impatient with the young Earl, with his "fool's cheek reddening" at wrong times. But, given the conditions and the problem once set, the solution is the best one possible, and Guendolen's share is in keeping with her original finished and lofty presentation. Its coincidence with the design of Shakspere's Beatrice, if real, is accidental; with one distinct meeting point in their otherwise dissimilar careers, they have the abiding community of kindred spirits, alike beautiful and brave, everywhere winning and womanly. THE CHAIRMAN said their thanks were due to Mr. Williams for the Paper they had just heard read: he could have wished, however, that the writer had been present, as they would then have felt more free to discuss it fully. The play certainly invited discussion, and presented some points that might be readily taken up. He thought it a very fine play, and one well fitted for stage-representation. Mr. Courtney had remarked, in the current number of the 'Fortnightly Review,' that the chief interest of the play turned on the immoral relations of the hero and heroine. He (the Chairman) doubted, however, whether the poet intended us to regard those relations as really immoral. Of course the conventional view would be that they were; and this view was so far met that three of the dramatis persona were disposed of by death. But it seemed to him that throughout the play a deeper and truer view was suggested than the merely conventional. Conventional morality was upheld by the action of the play; at the same time we were made to feel that there was a deeper morality than that. He then quoted from the play such sentences as the following in support of his view— Mildred's most pathetic words, which occurred more than once: . . . . I was so young I had no mother, and I loved him so." Guendolen too, speaking to Mildred, was made to say, "He is your lover. I guessed he was. Therefore I pronounce you free from all that heap of sins which else had been irredeemable. I felt they were not yours." Tresham also said, "Haste and anger have undone us. I had seen through the troubled surface of this crime a depth of purity immovable. Had I but glanced! I wait in doubt, despondency, and fear the judgment of God." Mertoun, "for God we're good enough." All which seemed to show how much deeper the poet's view was than the merely conventional, MR. FURNIVALL said the Paper as read was a comparison between Beatrice and Guendolen. It always seemd to him that the weakness of the 'Blot' was that its motive was inadequate to the result. The girl, her lover, and her brother all die for an offence against mere convention, and the play leaves an unsatisfactory impression on the reader's mind. Mr. F. did not think Browning intended it as a vigorous protest against conventional morality. MRS. ORR concurred entirely in the Chairman's view; and thought that the real tragedy of the play lay in the disproportion between the wrong done and its consequences. But she did not imagine Mr. Browning had intended any special protest against conventional morality. ABT VOGLER. THE CHAIRMAN thought the thanks of the meeting were due to Mrs. Turnbull for a very able Paper, also to Miss Hickey for the beautiful way she had read it. It seemed to him the poem was intended to show the transientness in this world of some forms of work, the sorrow this begets in the true soul, and the longing for permanency. MR. FURNIVALL thought this a rather more difficult Paper to discuss than the last one. He should like to know what were the religious views of Beethoven: had he the same feeling of devotion as Handel, Haydn, Mendelssohn? He considerd the writer of the Paper quite justified in saying that Browning was right as to architecture and music. With regard to Abt Vogler, one idea was that he was an impostor, and a strong party in Germany looked upon him as a charlatan. Browning appeared to use him as an illustration of the transitoriness of music. The poem itself was a noble one, and Browning went deeper into the subject of music than did Shakspere. A LADY did not think Mr. Furnivall justified in saying that there was a greater depth in Browning than Shakspere as regards music. She did not at all think that Browning struck a deeper chord. MISS DREWRY was impressed with the elevated position music takes in all Browning's works. The poem of Abt Vogler had impressed her more than anything else in regard to music. MISS RIDLEY remarked on the power of music in setting us free from the limitations of form, in bringing us into direct contact with 'the soul of things.' MR. GONNER noticed two different theories regarding music: one was its emotional aspect, the other was its associational or intellectual power. This latter he thought rather doubtful, as music to some minds conveys no thought at all; what thought it expressed was variable: the thought was subjective to the person and depended on the connection in each case between the emotions and the intellect; therefore music was not superior to poetry, but inferior. Then, too, poetry seemed to combine all the arts in a higher degree than other things, so would consequently rank higher. MR. W. G. KINGSLAND thought that Browning in the poem had not intended to give any special teaching in regard to music, but had simply used it as an illustration of his ethical teaching, as the close of the poem was a noble and magnificent ode on the Eternity of Good. He considered Mr. Browning to be emphatically the teacher of the teachers; he inspired those who were engaged in various ways-by music, painting, or literature-in instructing the people. A general conversation then ensued regarding music and its influence; after which, on the motion of MR. FURNIVALL, a hearty and unanimous vote of thanks was awarded to Mrs. ORR for her kindness in presenting the members of the Society with the Woodbury-type, in 3 sizes, of Fradelle's photograph of Mr. Browning, lately issued with Part II of the Society's Illustrations. 80* Annual Meeting, Friday, July 6, 1883. REV. J. S. JONES in the Chair. The CHAIRMAN said the Society needed no commendation from him. It had amply justified its existence, and he could congratulate them on a successful and interesting second session. That they had had two years of study, more or less earnest, was a matter for hearty congratulation. He considered, also, that the past year's work would well compare with the first. Then, too, sympathy had been manifested with their work in various parts of the country; and the formation of so many local Browning Societies had been a great gain. The various papers read had been very valuable and suggestive, and the successful evening of readings and music had lightened their otherwise laborious investigations. MISS HICKEY read the Annual Report. MR. FURNIVALL moved the adoption of the report. He had seen with much pleasure the work of the Society. Their idea had not been to glorify Browning; but to try and get his work appreciated-to stop the foolish talk about him, and the dwelling on all his little faults of construction, &c. He considered the Society had distinctly achieved success in its work; and had caused Browning to be better known and studied. They admitted all the faults of his verse; but they required also the admission of the enormous strength, healthiness, and manliness of his work. Let them take the Poet with all his faults, but let them acknowledge his strength and his great purpose of heart. He believed that posterity would do Browning fuller justice than his contemporaries had done. Then, too, America thought more of him now than heretofore. In America, the glorious wife of Browning had been long honoured and beloved, and now the husband was taking his place by her side, and recognized as the strong, noble, thoughtful man that he is. For all these things he regarded the work of the Society with great satisfaction. MR. REVELL seconded the adoption of the Report. (Carried.) The Chairman proposed the list of officers should stand as read. (Carried.) MISS HICKEY then brought forward the cash accounts. The formal business of the meeting was then closed; and Mr. Furnivall proceeded to read a paper by Mr. Beeching on Saul. ABSTRACT OF MR. BEECHING'S PAPER ON SAUL. The object of the following paper is to put the main drift of the poem into prose. The characters in the drama are Saul, King of Israel, and the boy David. For three days Saul has been alone and silent in his tent, "troubled," in the words of the Bible, "by an evil spirit from God." At last it occurs to one of his servants to send for David, to try if his harp-playing will drive away the frenzy. The poem opens with the arrival of David, and his welcome by Saul's cousin Abner. Saul is standing erect and motionless, leaning on the crossbeam in the middle of the tent. David loses no time, but, taking the cool lilies from his harpstrings, begins to play, first the tunes that are most familiar to him and that have power to influence animals. If the tunes move other creatures they may perhaps move Saul. "God made all the creatures and gave them our love and our fear, To give sign we and they are his children, one family here." But Saul is motionless. Perhaps Saul's spirit, wandering alone in a dark wilderness, may once more feel his union with mankind, once more feel the common life stir in his veins, and rouse himself,-David plays the reaper's wine song, the funeral march, the marriage hymn-in vain. Then the psalm of thanksgiving and praise, the processional hymn of the Levites; and at last a chord in Saul's nature vibrates; the thought of communion with God touches the hidden spring of his melancholy, which was the forfeiture of this communion. The connection between this song and. the next is well seized by Mr. Nettleship. "When the terror of his memory is like to thrust the poor struggler yet further back into the quaking slough, David adroitly seizes the slight indication of returning life and thought which that groan of remorse showed, and strives to throw to the choking man who has just recovered consciousness a rope of joy." David sings the praises of Saul's life from the beginning, and the poem originally ended with -"all Brought to blaze on the head of one creature-King Saul!" We were clearly meant to understand that this magnificent song of praise did lift Saul's "name out of sorrow" and bring him back to the light of life, but in the completed poem it is only partially successful. Saul no longer despairs, but he does not yet hope. He stands with folded arms, waiting what next is to be done? What spell is there to put life into the man just rescued from death? Ah! there is life and life, because man has a double nature. There is a life of the spirit beyond the mere bodily life. The life of man is like a tree's life-its fruit is of more worth than the blossom. The fruit of man's spirit is thought and will, and from these comes action as the palm wine from the dates. Just as the fruit must be crushed before the wine can flow, so a man's thought and will must be done with before his action can work in the world; David sings- "Each ray of thy will, Every flash of thy passion and prowess, long over, shall thrill Thy whole people, the countless, with ardour, till they too give forth A like cheer to their sons: who in turn fill the South and the North But the oldest age comes to an end. Must the king die like the lion and the rose? No. His tomb is built in the vale, and his mighty deeds are recorded on it. Saul is to have an immortalité d'estime. This is the highest thing man can give him. And Saul, as he hears this majestic song of perfect triumph in life and death, is reassured. In the final stanzas of the poem we come to David's highest flight. He lifts Saul's name above the earth by the power of love. He argues from man's self-consciousness. Man, in addition to living the life of God, knows that he lives it, he is the one creature who can praise God in the name of creation, who can form a conception of God from what he sees in Nature. He knows that whatever good qualities he finds in himself exist in their perfection in God. And so by this revelation of the human nature in the Divine, David shows Saul that the utmost he can only wish for him, God can and will give him. And with this prophecy he leaves Saul; and as he makes his way back through the night, he sees that universal nature has long been aware of his newdiscovered secret. That is the drift of the poem. David's song is a song of praise-a song |