Madhouse Cells by Robert Browning

i.

There's Heaven above, and night by night,

I look right through its gorgeous roof;

No suns and moons though e'er so bright

Avail to stop me; splendour-proof

I keep the broods of stars aloof;

For I intend to get to God,

For 'tis to God I speed so fast,

For in God's breast, my own abode,

Those shoals of dazzling glory past,

I lay my spirit down at last.

I lie where I have always lain,

God smiles as he has always smiled;

Ere suns and moons could wax and wane,

Ere stars were thundergirt, or piled

The Heavens, God thought on me his child,

Predestination Logic

The speaker claims God predetermined his sinlessness before creation—a twisted version of Calvinist **election** doctrine that exempts him from moral law entirely.

Ordained a life for me, arrayed

Its circumstances, every one

Predestination Logic

The speaker claims God predetermined his sinlessness before creation—a twisted version of Calvinist **election** doctrine that exempts him from moral law entirely.

To the minutest; ay, God said

This head this hand should rest upon

Thus, ere he fashioned star or sun.

And having thus created me,

Thus rooted me, he bade me grow

Guiltless for ever, like a tree

That buds and blooms, nor seeks to know

A law by which it prospers so:

But sure that thought and word and deed

All go to swell his love for me,

Me made because that love had need

Of something irrevocably

Pledged solely its content to be.

Yes, yes, a tree which must ascend,

Jonah's Gourd

Biblical reference to Jonah 4:6-10, where God grows a gourd to shade Jonah, then kills it. The speaker inverts this: he's the blessed tree, others are the doomed gourd.

No poison-gourd foredoomed to stoop!

I have God's warrant, could I blend

All hideous sins, as in a cup,

To drink the mingled venoms up,

Secure my nature will convert

The draught to blossoming gladness fast,

While sweet dews turn to the gourd's hurt,

And bloat, and while they bloat it, blast,

As from the first its lot was cast.

For as I lie, smiled on, full fed

By exhausted power to bless,

I gaze below on Hell's fierce bed,

And those its waves of flame oppress,

Swarming in ghastly wretchedness,

Whose life on earth aspired to be

One altar-smoke, so pure!—to win

If not love like God's love to me,

At least to keep his anger in,

And all their striving turned Lo sin!

Priest, doctor, hermit, monk grown white

With prayer, the broken-hearted nun,

The martyr, the wan acolyte,

The incense-swinging child,—undone

Before God fashioned star or sun!

God, whom I praise; how could I praise

If such as I might understand,

Make out, and reckon on, his ways,

And bargain for his love, and stand,

Paying a price, at his right hand?

ii.

The rain set early in to-night,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

And did its worst to vex the lake,

I listened with heart fit to break,

When glided in Porphyria: straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Which done, she rose, and from her form

Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

And, last, she sate down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied,

She put my arm about her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread o'er all her yellow hair,

Murmuring how she loved me; she

Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,

To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

And give herself to me for ever:

But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain;

And she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Proud, very proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshipped me; surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

In one long yellow string I wound

Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she:

I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee

I warily oped her lids; again

Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

I propped her head up as before,

Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its utmost will,

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria's love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,

And yet God has not said a word!

Divine Silence

The poem's entire theological question compressed into one line. The murderer interprets God's silence as approval—the same logic as speaker i.

i.

There's Heaven above, and night by night,

I look right through its gorgeous roof;

No suns and moons though e'er so bright

Avail to stop me; splendour-proof

I keep the broods of stars aloof;

For I intend to get to God,

For 'tis to God I speed so fast,

For in God's breast, my own abode,

Those shoals of dazzling glory past,

I lay my spirit down at last.

I lie where I have always lain,

God smiles as he has always smiled;

Ere suns and moons could wax and wane,

Ere stars were thundergirt, or piled

The Heavens, God thought on me his child,

Predestination Logic

The speaker claims God predetermined his sinlessness before creation—a twisted version of Calvinist **election** doctrine that exempts him from moral law entirely.

Ordained a life for me, arrayed

Its circumstances, every one

Predestination Logic

The speaker claims God predetermined his sinlessness before creation—a twisted version of Calvinist **election** doctrine that exempts him from moral law entirely.

To the minutest; ay, God said

This head this hand should rest upon

Thus, ere he fashioned star or sun.

And having thus created me,

Thus rooted me, he bade me grow

Guiltless for ever, like a tree

That buds and blooms, nor seeks to know

A law by which it prospers so:

But sure that thought and word and deed

All go to swell his love for me,

Me made because that love had need

Of something irrevocably

Pledged solely its content to be.

Yes, yes, a tree which must ascend,

Jonah's Gourd

Biblical reference to Jonah 4:6-10, where God grows a gourd to shade Jonah, then kills it. The speaker inverts this: he's the blessed tree, others are the doomed gourd.

No poison-gourd foredoomed to stoop!

I have God's warrant, could I blend

All hideous sins, as in a cup,

To drink the mingled venoms up,

Secure my nature will convert

The draught to blossoming gladness fast,

While sweet dews turn to the gourd's hurt,

And bloat, and while they bloat it, blast,

As from the first its lot was cast.

For as I lie, smiled on, full fed

By exhausted power to bless,

I gaze below on Hell's fierce bed,

And those its waves of flame oppress,

Swarming in ghastly wretchedness,

Whose life on earth aspired to be

One altar-smoke, so pure!—to win

If not love like God's love to me,

At least to keep his anger in,

And all their striving turned Lo sin!

Priest, doctor, hermit, monk grown white

With prayer, the broken-hearted nun,

The martyr, the wan acolyte,

The incense-swinging child,—undone

Before God fashioned star or sun!

God, whom I praise; how could I praise

If such as I might understand,

Make out, and reckon on, his ways,

And bargain for his love, and stand,

Paying a price, at his right hand?

ii.

The rain set early in to-night,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

And did its worst to vex the lake,

I listened with heart fit to break,

When glided in Porphyria: straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Which done, she rose, and from her form

Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

And, last, she sate down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied,

She put my arm about her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread o'er all her yellow hair,

Murmuring how she loved me; she

Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,

To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

And give herself to me for ever:

But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain;

And she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Proud, very proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshipped me; surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

In one long yellow string I wound

Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she:

I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee

I warily oped her lids; again

Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

I propped her head up as before,

Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its utmost will,

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria's love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,

And yet God has not said a word!

Divine Silence

The poem's entire theological question compressed into one line. The murderer interprets God's silence as approval—the same logic as speaker i.