The Washburn leader., 1916-07-07
PUZZLED THE POET
The Societies Formed to Study
Browning's Works.
he DIDN'T FEEL FLATTERED.

he DIDN'T FEEL FLATTERED.
Thought Il Peculiar That Il Required
Organized Effort to Understand HE
Genius An Afternoon Tea and q
Story About Tsnnyson.
In her book pleasures and Palaces"
Princess Lazarovich Hrebelian0vich,
formerly Eleanor Calhoun Of Califor-
mia, who as young woman won fame
as an actress abroad, gives this story Of
her meeting with the poet Browning:
The revealing charm Of London lay
not alone In making acquaintance with
those who dwell in marble halls'' Qn
England, be it said, they are not mar
BILE, but sculpturcd wood or sculptured
stone and ancient tapestry, but in that
vast universe of houses, big and small,
whose lights glimmer softly through
hazy atmosphere or blink morosely in
the fog, where the aristocrats of genius
also rove. On certain days, from gray
and dull, the place suddenly frightened
into a new enchantment, as into my
picture there came along some poet or
great one whose name since childhood
had made my heart f1uttcr like the yel-
low poppies on the California hills.
In response to the invitation. Wont
you come in for cup of tea with us
on Wednesday afternoon?" had gone
to the house Of new acquaintance.
finding in realitya crush of fashionable
in her drawing room. She put me into
q seat and introduced me to an old
lady on my right and an old gentle
man on my left, both of whom looked
very bright and alive.
"NIrs. Bryan Waller Proctor BARRY
CornwalD, mother of Adelaide Proctor;
Mr.. Browning-the poet, you know"
At the names my heart thumped.
was wedged in between them.
II surely have a lucky star" said,
ito think of my good fortune in being
placed just here!'
"Yes," piped the old lady merrily;
ITS nice to like ones fellow sardines."
Browning said:
81 am always glad to meet Ameri.
cans; they are so appreciative, only in
one way they're worse even than our
people here. 1 think I may say that
the thing that puzzles me most in the
world is the Browning society, and
America seems full Of Browning So
cieties.'
"That shows how much you mean to
America" ventured.
"H-m, yes" he answered dryly, ut
isn't very f1attering to think you can't
be understood without the aid Of or
ganized effort" He was very sweet
and laughed at himself.
L mentioned Tennyson. Old Mrs.
Proctor said: "Look sharp. He does
not love Americans. simply adore
Lowell, and Tennyson Is one Of my
dearest. I've tried in a hundred ways
to have him meet Lowell, but he an
swers like brute. I'll not give up.
though. Lowell wrote me poem on
my birthday. thought that would
fetch Alfred, so l took it down to
Hazlemere, firted it before his face.
"'You shan't read it, said. He
grunted. I folded it up and stuffed 1t
into my pocket and said, I'm back to
town. He pouted like a naughty
child. seized my hand and growled:
"'You may read it.
"'Oh, no, never said. He finally
insisted. Well, since you beg me to, It
begins like this: II know girl. they
say she is eighty paused. -
familiarv snorted Alfred, never crack
ing a SMILE" The old lady -chuckled.
"But he's an angel all the same. they're
both angels"
In the midst of our talk somebody
began to play long classical piece on
the piano. Everybody said, "'Sh"
Browning, who was in great vein.
whispered, II abominate piano players
-murderers of conversation" It was
cruel; the piano ran the whole gamut
Of its possibilities for half an hour.
Mrs. Proctor and Browning rolled their
eyes at each other and at me as IL in
agony. At last it stopped. Browning
applauded frantically, holding out his
hands and looking back over his sh0ul-
der at US, while he began to say,
"Thank God, it's over! must tell
you about the strangest experience I
ever had. It was in France Just
then the pianist began an encore.
Browning almost groaned: "What's
she doing? You don't think she is go
ing to-
eyes," I said, "you applauded so
hard she had to begin again.
"God forgive me!' he walled. "Never
again will commit that error"
The old lady choked with laughter.
and Browning bolted for the door.
Girl. In Guatemala.