Robert Browning

ing," or "the teaching of Browning," or, in other words, in the mere opinions of Browning. Now Browning had opinions, just as he had a dress-suit or a vote for Parliament. He did

aws, as he is fully justified in drawing, a definite hope for immortality and the larger scale of life. For nothing is more certain than that though this world is the only world that we have known, or of which we could even dream, the fact does remain that we have named it "a strange world." In other words, we have certainly felt that this world did not explain itself, that something in its complete and patent picture has been omitted. And Browning was right in saying that in a cosmos where incompleteness implies completeness, life implies immortality. This then was the first of the doctrines or opinions of Browning: the hope that lies in the imperfection of man. The second of the great Browning doctrines requires some audacity to express. It can only be properly stated as the hope that lies in the imperfection of God. That is to say, that Browning held that sorrow and self-denial, if they were the burdens of man, were also his privileges. He held that these stubborn sorrows and obscure valours might, to

g's theology must be put down to his possession of a good digestion. The remark was, of course, like all remarks touching the tragic subject of digestion, intended to be funny and to convey some kind of doubt or diminution touching the value of Browning's faith. But if we examine the matter with somewhat greater care we shall see that it is indeed a thorough compliment to that faith. Nobody, strictly speaking, is happier on account of his digestion. He is happy because he is so constituted as to forget all about it. Nobody really is convulsed with delight at the thought of the ingenious machinery which he possesses inside him; the thing which delights him is simply the full possession of his own human body. I cannot in the least understand why a good digestion-that is, a good body-should not be held to be as mystic a benefit as a sunset or the first flower of spring. But there is about digestion this peculiarity throwing a great light on human pessimism, that it is one of the many things which we never speak of as existing until they go wrong. We should think it ridiculous to speak of a man as suff

elf and proceed to experience the apples. Browning's faith was founded upon joyful experience, not in the sense that he selected his joyful experiences and ignored his painful ones, but in the sense that his joyful experiences selected themselves and stood out in his memory by virtue of their own extraordinary intensity of colour. He did not use experience in that mean and pompous sense in which it is used by the worldling ad

er words, "Existence is justified by its completeness." If, on the other hand, he had been influenced by his own serious intellectual theories he would have said, "Existence is justified by its air of growth and doubtfulness," or, in other words, "Existence is justified by its incompleteness." But if he had not been influenced in his answer either by the accepted opinions, or by his own opinions, but had simply answered the question "Is life worth living?" with the real, vital answer that awaited it in his own soul, he would have said as likely as not, "Crimson toadstools in Hampshire." Some plain, glowing picture of this sort left on his mind would be

sible emotions. "For the barbarian is the man who regards his passions as their own excuse for being, who does not domesticate them either by understanding their cause, or by conceiving their ideal goal." Whether this be or be not a good definition of the barbarian, it is an excellent and perfect definition of the poet. It might, perhaps, be suggested that barbarians, as a matter of fact, are generally highly traditional and respectable persons who would not put a feather wrong in their head-gear, and who generally have very few feelings and

philosophers will persuade poetry to say that it is the exaggeration of the instinct of sex. If bereavement is a bitter and continually aching thing, poetry will say that it is so, and no philosophers will persuade poetry to say that it is an evolutionary stage of great biological value. And here comes in the whole value and object of poetry, that it is perpetually challenging all systems with the test of a terrible sincerity. The practical value of poetry is that it is realistic upon a point upon which nothing else can be realistic, the point of the actual desires of man. Ethics is the science of actions, but poetry is the science of motives. Some actions are ugly, and therefore some parts of ethics are ugly. But all motives are beautiful, or present themselves for the moment as beautiful, and therefore all poetry is beautiful. If poetry deals with the basest matter, with the shedding of blood for gold, it ought to

If the heavens had fallen, and all the waters of the earth run with blood, he would still have been interested in existence, if possible a little more so. He is a great poet of human joy for precisely the reason of whic

rable extent the poet of towns. "Do you care for nature much?" a friend of his asked him. "Yes, a great deal," he said, "but for human beings a great deal more." Nature, with its splendid and soothing sanity, has the power of convincing most poets of the essential worthines

difference was the deepest of all his senses. He was hungrily interested in all human things, but it would have been quite impossible to have said of him that he loved humanity. He did not love humanity but men. His sense of the difference between one man and another would have made the thought of melting them into a lump called humanity simply loathsome and prosaic. It would have been to him like playing four hundred beautiful airs at once. The mixture would no

eerfully, "I intended it for Cardinal Wiseman, but I don't consider it a satire, there is nothing hostile about it." This is the real truth which lies at the heart of what may be called the great sophistical monologues which Browning wrote in later years. They are not satires or attacks upon their subjects, they are not even harsh and unfeeling exposures of them. They are defences; they say or are intended to say the best that can be said for the persons with whom they deal. But very few people in this world would care to listen to the real defence of their own characters. The real defence, the defence which belongs to the Day of Judgment, would make such damaging admissions, would clear away so many artificial virtues, would tell such tragedies of weakness and failure, that a man would sooner be misunderstood and censured by the world than exposed to that awful and merciless eulogy. One of the most

side of the real optimism of Browning. And there is indeed little danger that such optimism will become weak and sentimental and popular, the refuge of every idler, the excuse of every ne'er-do-well. There is little danger that men will desire to e

soliloquy was a kind of anger mixed with curiosity; possibly the first charcoal sketch of Blougram was a caricature of a priest. Browning, as we have said, had prejudices, and had a capacity for anger, and two of his angriest prejudices were against a certain kind of worldly clericalism, and against almost every kind of spiritualism. But as he worked upon the portraits at least, a new spirit began to po

bt "Mr. Sludge the Medium" is a general statement of the view of spiritualism at which Browning had arrived from his acquaintance with Home and Home's circle. And about that view of spiritualism there is something rather peculiar to notice. The poem, appearing as it did at the time when the intellectual public had just become conscious of the existence of spiritualism, attracted a great deal of attention, and aroused a great deal of controversy. The spiritualists called down thunder upon the head of the poet, whom they depicted as a vulgar and ribald lampooner who had not only committed the profanity of sneering at the mysteries of a higher state of life, but the more unpardonable profanity of sneering at the convictions of his own wife. The sceptics, on the other hand, hailed the poem with delight as a blasting exposure of spiritualism, and congratulated the poet on making himse

inary that any one should have missed the point of it, since it is the whole point of the monologue. Sludge the Medium has been caught out in a piece of unquestionable trickery, a piece of trickery for which there is no conceivable explanation or palliation which will leave his moral character intact. He is therefore seized with a sudden resolution, partly angry, partly frightened, and partly humorous, to become absolutely frank, and to tell the whole truth about himself for the first time not only to his dupe, but to himself. He excuses himself for the earlier stages of the trickster's life by a survey of the border-land between truth and fiction, not by any means a piece of sophistry or cynicism, but a perfectly fair statement of an ethical difficulty which does exist. There are some people who think that it must be immoral to admit that there are any doubtful cases of morality, as if a man should refrain from discussing the precise boundary at the upper end of the Ist

e fairy-tales. We think a father entirely pure and benevolent when he tells his children that a beanstalk grew up into heaven, and a pumpkin turned into a coach. We should consider that he lapsed from purity and benevolence if he told his children that in walking home that evening he had seen a beanstalk grow half-way up the church, or a pumpkin grow as large as a wheelbarrow. Again, few people would object to that general privilege whereby it is permitted to a person in narrating even a true anecdote to work up the climax by any exaggerative touches which really tend to bring it out. The reason of this is that the tel

oes, there is truth in his plea. Sludge might indeed find himself unexpectedly justified if we had only an exact record of how true were the tales told about Conservatives in an exclusive circle of Radicals, or the stories told about Radicals in a circle of indignant Conservatives. But after this general excuse, Sludge goes on to a perfectly cheerful and unf

ir, he someti

the useful bo

nd meaning of the poem. He says in effect: "Now that my interest in deceit is utterly gone, now that I have admitted, to my own final infamy, the frauds that I have practised, now that I stand before you in a patent and open villainy which has something of the disinterestedness and independence of the innocent, now I tell you with the full and impartial authority of a lost soul that I believe that there is something in spiritualism. In the course of a thousand conspiracies, by the labour of a thousand lies, I have discovered that there is really something in this matter that neither I nor any other man u

e that this avowal on behalf of spiritualism is the pivot of the poem. The avowal itself i

en! Will you be

hat I confess:

d: I cheated

oe-joints, set s

mes weak in s

hts with ends o

t; believe that

oken, though

raight again,

e knocked down; I

somehow vomi

ine-I don't kno

omething in it,

ast act of Othello into the middle of the play. Either the whole poem of "Sludge the Medium" means nothing at all, and is only a lampoon upon a cad, of which the matter is almost

ellectual art in which he may achieve masterpieces which he must keep secret, fight thrilling battles, and win hair's-breadth victories for which he cannot have a whisper of praise. A really accomplished impostor is the most wretched of geniuses; he is a Napoleon on a desert island. A man might surely, therefore, when he was certain that his credit was gone, take a certain pleasure in revealing the tricks of his unique trade, and gaining not indeed credit, but at least a kind of glory. And in the course of this self-revelation he would come at last upon that part of himself which exists in every man-that part which does believe in, and value, and worship something. This he would fling in his hearer's face with even greater pride, a

beast and blackgua

dared burn d

your sni

on, and

that he was speaking more truthfully in the second outburst than in the first. Whence came this extraordinary theory that a man is always speakin

at the Fair, Aristophanes' Apology, and several of the monologues in The Ring and the Book. They are all, without exception, dominated by this one conception of a certain reality tangled almost inextricably with unrealit

e believed, say,

en he sets out to tell lies. If a man comes to tell us that he has discovered perpetual motion, or been swallowed by the se

f best in a language flexible and pungent, but indelicate and without dignity. But the peculiarity of these loose and almost slangy soliloquies is that every now and then in them there occur bursts of pure poetry which are like a burst of birds singing. Browning does not hesitate to put some of the most perfect lines that he or anyone else have ever written in the English language into the mouths of such slaves as Sludge and Guido Franceschini. Take, for the sake of example, "Bishop Blougram's Apology." The poem is one of the most grotesque in the poet's works. It is intentionally redolent of the solemn materialism and patrician grossness of a grand dinner-par

e safest, there'

flower-bell, so

nding from

ugh for fifty

w at once as

ock and enter

dance there, a

ent idol, on h

and Pe

ilia, or Rabbi Ben Ezra. It is in reality put into the mouth of a vulgar, fashiona

th God. Thus Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau is certain that every dodge in his thin string of political dodges has been the true means of realising what he believes to be the will of God. Every one of these meagre swindlers, while admitting a failure in all things relative, claims an awful alliance with the Absolute. To many it will at first sight appear a dangerous doctrine indeed. But, in truth, it is a most solid and noble and salutary doctrine, far less dangerous than its opposite. Every one on this earth should believe, amid whatever madness or moral failure, that his life and temperament have some object on the earth. Every one on the earth should believe that he has something to give to the world which cannot otherwise be given. Every one should, for the good of men and the saving of his own soul, believe that it is possible, eve

N

of Aeschyl

e, The

del Sa

es' Apolog

atthew, 4

ando

Italy),

Mermai

ia, 8

reams,

's Adventu

Arabella,

oulton, 58 seq.,

, Mr. Aub

Pomegran

zra,"

Mr. Augus

lougram,"

's Apology, 188

e 'Scutche

, Mr

t: birth and fa

s to his d

ishman of the

te ancestor

atio

and yo

ms, Incon

ic spi

on of Pau

with litera

elsus

n to litera

iest adm

p with Ca

ffor

ello

Pass

ic Lyr

n of the

the 'Scu

with Elizabeth

rst meet

nd elopeme

Italy,

taly, 82,

h Italian Re

spiritualism, 91

f his w

to Engla

and the B

his literary

societ

llow of Ba

he great Univ

's Adventu

nes' Apol

non of Aes

nstiel-Schw

Night-Cap C

t the Fa

n Albu

d How He Worked

isiaz

ets of Cro

c Idyll

eria,

h's Fanc

in People of Importan

gn Correspondent to t

ollen with hi

ney to It

t Venic

on of Aso

versati

y, 33

d virtues

est in Ar

accomplishm

d presence, 18

udices,

onal coars

cs, 86

as a fa

amati

ary artist

otesque, 48, 140

ilures

ginality, 13

melody and rhy

y in rhy

ffoone

ity, 1

on of the Un

phy, 17

sm, 17

ve poe

es, 51,

casuistical m

ife of (Mrs

t (father of th

née Wiedermann (

nna (sister

(wife), 57 seq., 91-99, 10

g Socie

Robert,

1, 38, 1

sm, 19

an," 9

n Setebos,"

ell, 3,

sacchi

12, 16, 17, 26,

e, Mrs

er Tune

, 86,

s I.,

cer,

to the Dark T

mas Ev

n Italy,

ve,"

Arthur H

's Birt

Miss Ma

l, Oliv

n, 23

ens,

al,"

, Alfr

inthus de Arc

c Idyll

c Lyric

s Perso

Charles Gav

gh Revi

n in Italy

Scruples,

h's Fanci

Fair, 9, 13,

d, Edward

the Duches

nce,

r, Joh

John,

. Johns

s. Brid

Lippo

o Lippi,

Revolut

ll, Dr.

Fancie

ldi, 8

t, W.S

Mr. Geo

tone,

asury (Pal

ith, 1

, Gene

eschini," 10

y, Mr

Tragedy,

Miss E

ross Da

ritualist), 93-9

d, Memoirs

ne,

on, Lo

se,"

lder, Th

the good News from

s (Butl

Vict

Leig

ndit

bum, T

s Tyra

y, 8

evolution

vànovit

n, Mrs

, Dougl

eria,

t, Dr

ar (Shakes

tor Bottin

, 16, 19,

, 22, 58, 6

and King C

, Rudya

Seymou

glon

ry, The,"

6, 56, 93

isiaz

The Bro

alism

dward Fitzg

ollen

hart

eader,

Quarrel

gi,"

ord (nove

y, 17,

inck, 1

, Cardi

en of Sc

ues of Saxe

nd Dea

ini,

d Wome

George,

hn Stuar

and,

on,

-Milnes,

Medium, 82, 9

ykeh,

tar,"

y in Drinks

eon,

III., 56,

ime and the

Cardin

ood,

ions of Immortality

ecian Urn" (

rs in Flor

ord Mo

Mrs

w He Worked in Diste

22, 25, 26,

lsus,"

g, Poem

e, Fran

is,

Persons of Importance in

20, 21, 3

ippide

(acto

Ignotu

of Hamelin

a," 4

s, 18, 45,

a,

Church u

o, 2

gar All

simistic sc

ilia,

11,

ait, A

stiel-Schwan

The (Tenny

Unbound" (Sh

ia, 8

tans

28,

Ben Ezr

ight-Cap Cou

he Druses,

olu

rench

ian,

The, 85, 106, 109

lar, Comte

rch, 114,

etti

list

6, 55, 56

sia

George

rpretations of Poetry

ald,

peare,

are Soci

r. Willi

r. Bern

6, 17,19, 56,

p,"

Schafnaburg

(Browning's

51, 52, 15

er (publis

he Spanish Cloi

om the Port

o, 23,

, Free

ser,

sm, 9, 91,

d the Bust

ne,

Robert Loui

d, 27 s

rd," 28

, 56, 116

Magaz

d, Serg

4, 55, 117, 141

ay, Mis

Metidja to Ab

Revenge

toi,

handy (Ste

of Croisic

ity Col

okay" (poem

ce,

Sardinia

r, Ab

ies (King

Mr. G.F

, 21, 43, 49,

Liberal" (

nn, Will

, Cardi

on Comm

, 69, 136,

th Socie

nd Art,"

a,

Men of

SE

tops. Flat bac

By Sir LESLIE

y FREDERI

By Sir ALF

N. By AUS

By G.K.

the Rev. Ca

By the Rev. C

ir LESLIE ST

. By FRANC

. By GEORGE

EY. By AUS

LOR. By ED

. By AUGUSTINE

ROSSETTI. By

H. By the Hon.

L. By CLEME

RE. By STE

F THE ORIG

niform with the ab

By W.J. C

By Dean

By Sir RI

By J.A

By JOHN

Principa

Professo

By Profes

By Dr.

E. By H.

By GOLDW

By W.

. By Prof

By Dr.

y Prof. S

By AUSTI

By J.C.

TH. By

y EDMUN

E. By HE

Prof. HUX

Sir LESLIE S

y SIDNEY

LES. By Ca

By SIDNE

y THOMAS

. By J.C

By MARK

r LESLIE ST

By R.H.

By J.A.

By Mrs.

By J.A.

By Prof

By Dean

By H.D

r LESLIE STE

By ANTHON

H. By F.W

AND CO., L

en of Act

h. With Portrai

LIN). By ARC

Sir CHAR

n). By Sir W

By W. CLA

y JULIAN

y the Hon. J

ral). By Si

arren). By

ir Henry).

the Rev. A

d). By Sir RI

E. By THOM

JULIAN

By MOWBR

rles). By Colon

Prof. J.K

UGH. By W

By DAVID

D. By H.

King-Maker

N. By GEO

By A.G.

GLISHMEN

o. 2s. 6

n historic order the lives and work of those leading actors in our affairs who by their direct influence

N, D.C.L., LL.D., late Regius Professor of

By Mrs.

., Professor of History, Th

Bishop CREIGHTON, D.D., late Dixie Professor of Ec

A., Professor of Modern Histo

ELL. By FRED

II. By H.

By JOHN

OHN MORLEY. [

y Lord

D, M.A., late Fellow of