Tag Archives: Ghent to Aix

Robert Browning’s How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix (1845)

In 490 BC, the Athen­ian army defeat­ed the invad­ing Per­sian army in a bat­tle on the plain of Marathon, rough­ly 26 miles north of Athens. Accord­ing to leg­end, and brought down to us via the writ­ings of Herodotus, Lucian and Plutarch, the Athe­ni­ans then ordered the mes­sen­ger Phei­dip­pi­des to run ahead to Athens and announce the vic­to­ry to the city. Phei­dip­pi­des raced back to the city in the intense late sum­mer heat. Upon reach­ing the Athen­ian ago­ra, he exclaimed “Rejoice! We con­quer” and then col­lapsed dead from exhaus­tion.

This trope, of the long dis­tance chase to deliv­er vital news, we see again in Hen­ry Wadsworth Longfellow’s Paul Revere’s Ride (1860). This told the (high­ly embroi­dered) tale of Paul Revere’s valiant ride to Con­cord to warn the mili­tia that the British were com­ing, thus pro­mot­ing him in Amer­i­can cul­ture to the sta­tus of hero and patri­ot of the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion.

In the same spir­it – though this time whol­ly imag­i­nary – is Robert Browning’s How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix. The poem is a first-per­son nar­ra­tive told, in breath­less gal­lop­ing meter, by one of three rid­ers, only one of whose hors­es, the nar­ra­tor’s brave Roland, sur­vives to ful­fil the epic quest. The mid­night errand is urgent — “the news which alone could save Aix from her fate” — but what that good news actu­al­ly is, is nev­er revealed. The sequence of towns flash­ing by between Ghent and Aix-la-Chapelle is true to life, though they are char­ac­terised only by the asso­ci­at­ed times of night, dawn, and day (also a fea­ture of Paul Revere’s Ride) as the nar­ra­tor charges through them.

This poem is one of my ear­li­est mem­o­ries of poet­ry, from school­days, and its rol­lick­ing move­ment and sense of adven­ture res­onates with me now as it did then. There is a record­ing of Brown­ing him­self recit­ing the poem on an 1889 Edi­son cylin­der, but it’s far too crack­ly for our pur­pos­es, and besides, he for­gets the lines and gives up after the first verse (“I’m ter­ri­bly sor­ry but I can­not remem­ber me own vers­es”) so instead I offer this more mod­ern and pro­fes­sion­al ver­sion!

 

Robert Brown­ing