Browning’s Two Guidos

BROWNING'S TWO GUIDOS ROY GRIDLEY "The tiger-cat screams now, that whioed before." The Ring and the Book, I, 1296 Among the many and diverse characters who reveal themselves to us in the dramatic monologues of Robert Browning, only one, Count Guido Franceschini, is allowed to step forward and speak a second time. The murderous villaio of The Ring and the Book is granted nearly one-fourth of that poem and allowed to speak twice, Browning told Miss Julia Wedgwood, because the Old Yellow Book dictated such an emphasis and because Guido's wickedness must be shown to "rise to the limit conceivable.'" When Guido speaks that second time we have, the Poet of Book I says, "the same man, another voice" (I, 1285).2 A comparison of the two monologues reveals distinct methods of structuring a dramatic utterance and distinctly different uses of language by the monologuist. Count Guido in Book V has control of his language at all times, using it as a discursive rhetorical instrument to prove, casuistically, that his treatment and eventual murder of Pompilia and the Comparioi were justified. He strives audaciously and eloquently to twist truth in order that his judges will accept a false estimate of his motives and character. He learns nothing new about himself io the process; if his auditors and the reader see through the falsity of the argument and learn something of his essential character, they do so obliquely and agaiost the speaker's wishes; his utterance is a character-revealing action, but there is no self-realization on the part of the speaker.s While life was graspable and gainable, And bird-like buzzed her wings round Guido's brow, Not much truth stiffened out the web of words He wove to catch her. . . . [I, 1275-78] In Book XI, Guido, aware of the failure of his strategic rhetoric, speaks more freely. Divested of any motive other than expression of his desire to live, he explores his experience, improvisiog upon the tbeme that he is a life-force. Regardless of the standard by which men have judged Volume xxxvn, Number 1, Octoher, 1967 52 ROY CRIDLEY his actions, he discovers that those actions have been dictated by what he, Guido Franceschini, was and is. The burden of his utterance now is discovery of what he calls at the end of the monologue the "something changeless at the heart of me / To know me by, some nucleus that's myself" eXI, 2394--95). To discover that nucleus of self, simile and metaphor are no longer tied to a preconceived argument but are left free to suggest to the speaker new insights into his experience and character. Hope for acquittal motivates the carefully controlled rhetorical argument in Book V; the agonized search for inner justification and self-definition motivates the second monologue: "... death's breath rivelled up the lies," says the Poet of Book I, characterizing the second monologue, Left bare the metal thread, the libre line Of truth, i' the spinning: the true words shone last. How Guido, to another purpose quite, Speaks and.despairs, the last night of his life, In that New Prison by Castle Angelo At the bridge-foot: the same man, another voice. [I, 1280-85] The pattern of Count Guido's rhetorical strategy4 in Book V is apparent in the opening lines of the monologue. Only recently brought from the torture rack, the accused murderer is conciliatory, ingratiating, respectful; acknowledging the wisdom and authority of law, he appeals to the professional prejudices of the judges. He is as humble as Uriah Heep; yet he is audacious enough to compare himself obliquely to Christ when he says in mock surprise that the wine they now give to him is "not vinegar and gall": Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Ccurt, I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down Without help, make shift to even speak, you see, Fortilied by the sip of ... why, 't is wine, Velletri,-and not vinegar and gall, So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir! Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head To save my neck, there's work awaits me...