Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Hiram Powers' Greek Slave

HIRAM POWERS' GREEK SLAVE.
THEY say Ideal Beauty cannot enter
The house of anguish. On the threshold stands
An alien Image with the shackled hands,

The actual statue

Powers' *Greek Slave* (1844) showed a naked Christian woman captured by Turks during the Greek War of Independence. It toured America to massive crowds—the first acceptable nude in Victorian culture because she was a helpless victim.

Called the Greek Slave: as if the artist meant her,
(That passionless perfection which he lent her,
Shadowed, not darkened, where the sill expands)
To, so, confront man's crimes in different lands,
With man's ideal sense. Pierce to the centre,

Sonnet pivot

The volta turns from describing the statue to commanding it. The poem shifts from passive observation to active demand—art must *do* something about injustice.

Art's fiery finger!—and break up ere long
The serfdom of this world! Appeal, fair stone,
From God's pure heights of beauty, against man's wrong!
Catch up in thy divine face, not alone

East and West

Turkish slavery of Greeks (East) and American slavery of Africans (West). Barrett Browning is explicitly linking the statue's subject to abolitionism—controversial for a "respectable" artwork.

East griefs but west,—and strike and shame the strong,
By thunders of white silence, overthrown.
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Statue as Abolitionist Weapon

CONTEXT Hiram Powers' *Greek Slave* became the most famous American sculpture of the 19th century. Exhibited 1847-1849, it drew thousands who paid admission to see a full-frontal nude—acceptable only because she represented Christian suffering under Muslim captors. The statue wore actual chains.

Barrett Browning hijacks this comfortable narrative. The opening debate—"They say Ideal Beauty cannot enter / The house of anguish"—sets up the conservative position that art should transcend politics. The statue supposedly proves them wrong by being both beautiful and depicting suffering. But notice the slippage: she's "Called the Greek Slave: as if the artist meant her" to confront crime. Barrett Browning questions Powers' own intentions—did he mean this as political art, or is she *making* it political?

The command "Appeal, fair stone, / From God's pure heights of beauty, against man's wrong!" transforms the statue from victim to activist. Then comes the radical move: "Catch up in thy divine face, not alone / East griefs but west." She's explicitly connecting Greek suffering under Ottoman rule to African American slavery. The statue that let white Americans feel righteous about distant Turkish cruelty must now "strike and shame the strong" at home.

The final phrase "thunders of white silence" is brilliant—the statue's whiteness (marble, racial purity, Christian virtue) becomes accusatory thunder. Its silence indicts those who won't speak against slavery. The statue's passive beauty becomes a weapon that leaves the strong "overthrown."

Sonnet Under Pressure

This is technically an Italian sonnet, but Barrett Browning tortures the form. The octave runs a single sentence across eight lines, piling up subordinate clauses until the syntax nearly breaks. The sestet fractures into exclamations and commands—"Pierce to the centre, / Art's fiery finger!" interrupts itself with the apostrophe.

Watch the pronouns shift. The statue starts as "her" (line 4), becomes "thy divine face" (line 12), addressed directly as "fair stone" (line 10). The poem moves from describing the statue to commanding it, as if the act of writing could activate its political power. The imperative verbs escalate: Appeal, Catch up, strike, shame.

The phrase "passionless perfection" captures the problem with neoclassical sculpture—it's too calm, too ideal. Barrett Browning wants art that "break[s] up ere long / The serfdom of this world." Not art that transcends politics, but art as "Art's fiery finger" burning through complacency. The mixed metaphor (finger that pierces, breaks, burns) shows her impatience with aesthetic restraint.