III

I thought "And he who owns the wealth Which blocks the window's vast.i.tude, --Ah, could I peep at him by stealth Behind his ware, pa.s.s shop, intrude On house itself, what scenes were viewed!

IV

"If wide and showy thus the shop, What must the habitation prove?

The true house with no name a-top-- The mansion, distant one remove, Once get him off his traffic-groove!

V

"Pictures he likes, or books perhaps; And as for buying most and best, Commend me to these City chaps!

Or else he's social, takes his rest On Sundays, with a Lord for guest.

VI

"Some suburb-palace, parked about And gated grandly, built last year: The four-mile walk to keep off gout; Or big seat sold by bankrupt peer: But then he takes the rail, that's clear.

VII

"Or, stop! I wager, taste selects Some out o' the way, some all-unknown Retreat: the neighborhood suspects Little that he who rambles lone Makes Rothschild tremble on his throne!"

VIII

Nowise! Nor Mayfair residence Fit to receive and entertain,-- Nor Hampstead villa's kind defence From noise and crowd, from dust and drain,-- Nor country-box was soul's domain!

IX

Nowise! At back of all that spread Of merchandize, woe's me, I find A hole i' the wall where, heels by head, The owner couched, his ware behind, --In cupboard suited to his mind.

X

For why? He saw no use of life But, while he drove a roaring trade, To chuckle "Customers are rife!"

To chafe "So much hard cash outlaid Yet zero in my profits made!

XI

"This novelty costs pains, but--takes?

c.u.mbers my counter! Stock no more!

This article, no such great shakes, Fizzes like wildfire? Underscore The cheap thing--thousands to the fore!"

XII

'Twas lodging best to live most nigh (Cramp, coffinlike as crib might be) Receipt of Custom; ear and eye Wanted no outworld: "Hear and see The bustle in the shop!" quoth he.

XIII

My fancy of a merchant-prince Was different. Through his wares we groped Our darkling way to--not to mince The matter--no black den where moped The master if we interloped!

XIV

Shop was shop only: household-stuff?

What did he want with comforts there?

"Walls, ceiling, floor, stay blank and rough, So goods on sale show rich and rare!

'_Sell and scud home_' be shop's affair!"

XV

What might he deal in? Gems, suppose!

Since somehow business must be done At cost of trouble,--see, he throws You choice of jewels, everyone, Good, better, best, star, moon and sun!

XVI

Which lies within your power of purse?

This ruby that would tip aright Solomon's sceptre? Oh, your nurse Wants simply coral, the delight Of teething baby,--stuff to bite!

XVII

Howe'er your choice fell, straight you took Your purchase, prompt your money rang On counter,--scarce the man forsook His study of the "Times," just sw.a.n.g Till-ward his hand that stopped the clang,--

XVIII

Then off made buyer with a prize, Then seller to his "Times" returned; And so did day wear, wear, till eyes Brightened apace, for rest was earned: He locked door long ere candle burned.

XIX

And whither went he? Ask himself, Not me! To change of scene, I think.

Once sold the ware and pursed the pelf, Chaffer was scarce his meat and drink, Nor all his music--money-c.h.i.n.k.

XX

Because a man has shop to mind In time and place, since flesh must live, Needs spirit lack all life behind, All stray thoughts, fancies fugitive, All loves except what trade can give?

XXI

I want to know a butcher paints, A baker rhymes for his pursuit, Candlestick-maker much acquaints His soul with song, or, haply mute, Blows out his brains upon the flute!

XXII

But--shop each day and all day long!

Friend, your good angel slept, your star Suffered eclipse, fate did you wrong!

From where these sorts of treasures are, There should our hearts be--Christ, how far!

These poems are valuable not only for furnishing an interesting interpretation of Shakespeare's character as a man and artist, but for the glimpses they give into Browning's stand toward his own art. He wished to be regarded primarily as a dramatic artist, presenting and interpreting the souls of his characters, and he must have felt keenly the stupid att.i.tude which insisted always in reading "Browning's Philosophy" into all his poems. The fact that his objective material was of the soul rather than of the external actions of life has no doubt lent force to the supposition that Browning himself can be seen in everything he writes. It is true, nevertheless, that while much of his work is Shakespearian in its dramatic intensity, he had too forceful a philosophy of life to keep it from sometimes coming to the front.

Besides he has written many things avowedly personal as this chapter amply ill.u.s.trates.

To what intensity of feeling Browning could rise when contemplating the genius of Shakespeare is revealed in his direct and outspoken tribute.

Here there breathes an almost reverential att.i.tude toward the one supremely great man he has ventured to portray.