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BROWNING AS A
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ROBERT BROWNING.

BROWNING
AS A PHILOSOPHICAL
AND RELIGIOUS
TEACHER
BY
HENRY JONES
PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY
OF GLASGOW
Фо
}
THOMAS NELSON & SONS
LONDON, EDINBURGH, DUBLIN
AND NEW YORK
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO
MY DEAR FRIENDS
MISS HARRIET MACARTHUR
AND
MISS JANE MACARTHUR.
373857
PREFACE.
THE purpose of this book is to deal with Browning,
not simply as a poet, but rather as the exponent
of a system of ideas on moral and religious subjects,
which may fairly be called a philosophy. I am
conscious that it is a wrong to a poet to neglect,
or even to subordinate, the artistic aspect of his
work. At least, it would be a wrong, if our final
judgment on his poetry were to be determined on
such a method. But there is a place for every-
thing; and, even in the case of a great poet, there
is sometimes an advantage in attempting to estimate
the' value of what he has said, apart from the form
in which he has said it. And of all modern poets,
Browning is the one who most obviously invites
and justifies such a method of treatment. For,
in the first place, he is clearly one of that class
of poets who are also prophets. He was never
merely "the idle singer of an empty day," but one
for whom poetic enthusiasm was intimately bound up
viii
PREFACE.
with religious faith, and who spoke "in numbers,"
not merely " because the numbers came," but because
they were for him the necessary vehicle of an inspir-
ing thought. If it is the business of philosophy
to analyze and interpret all the great intellectual
forces that mould the thought of an age, it can-
not neglect the works of one who has exercised,
and is exercising so powerful an influence on the
moral and religious life of the present genera-
tion.
Aga
In the second place, as will be seen in the sequel,
Browning has himself led the way towards such a
philosophical interpretation of his work. For, even
in his earlier poems, he not seldom crossed the line
that divides the poet from the philosopher, and all
but broke through the strict limits of art in the
effort to express-and we might even say to preach
-his own idealistic faith. In his later works he
did this almost without any disguise, raising philo-
sophical problems, and discussing all the pros and
cons of their solution, with no little subtlety and
dialectical skill. In some of these poems we might
even seem to be receiving a philosophical lesson,
in place of a poetic inspiration, if it were not for
those powerful imaginative utterances, those winged
words, which Browning has always in reserve, to
close the ranks of his argument. If the question
is stated in a prosaic form, the final answer, as in
PREFACE.
ix
the ancient oracle, is in the poetic language of the
gods.
From this point of view I have endeavoured to
give a connected account of Browning's ideas, especi-
ally of his ideas on religion and morality, and to
estimate their value. In order to do so, it was
necessary to discuss the philosophical validity of
the principles on which his doctrine is more or less
consciously based. The more immediately philo-
sophical chapters are the second, seventh, and ninth;
but they will not be found unintelligible by those
who have reflected on the difficulties of the moral
and religious life, even although they may be un-
acquainted with the methods and language of the
schools.
I have received much valuable help in preparing
this work for the press from my colleague, Professor
G. B. Mathews, and still more from Professor Edward
Caird. I owe them both a deep debt of gratitude.
HENRY JONES.
1891.

CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER II.
ON THE NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER III.
BROWNING'S PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM
DICTION
CHAPTER IV.
•
•
CHAPTER V.
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS: THEIR CONTRA-
•
·
CHAPTER VI.
BROWNING'S TREATMENT OF THE PRIN-
CIPLE OF LOVE
PAGE
13
28
58
82
IIO
155

CONTENTS-Continued.
CHAPTER VII.
BROWNING'S IDEALISM, AND ITS PHILO-
SOPHICAL JUSTIFICATION .
CHAPTER VIII.
BROWNING'S SOLUTION OF THE PROBLEM
OF EVIL
CHAPTER IX.
A CRITICISM OF BROWNING'S VIEW OF
THE FAILURE OF KNOWLEDGE
CHAPTER X.
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.-LOVE AND
REASON.
CONCLUSION.
CHAPTER XI.
PAGE
185
229
274
311
343
ROBERT BROWNING.
66
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
Grau, theurer Freund, ist alle Theorie,
Und grün des Lebens goldner Baum.' (Faust.)
""
THE
(C
HERE is a saying of Hegel's, frequently
quoted, that a great man condemns the
world to the task of explaining him." The con-
demnation is a double one, and it generally falls
heaviest on the great man himself, who has to
submit to explanation; and, probably, the last
refinement of this species of cruelty is to expound a
poet. I therefore begin with an apology in both
senses of the term. I acknowledge that no com-
mentator on art has a right to be heard, if he is not
aware of the subordinate and temporary nature of
his office. At the very best he is only a guide to
the beautiful object, and he must fall back in silence
so soon as he has led his company into its presence.
He may perhaps suggest "the line of vision," or fix
the point of view, from which we can best hope to
do justice to the artist's work, by appropriating
his intention and comprehending his idea; but if
72
14
ROBERT BROWNING.
he seeks to serve the ends of art, he will not attempt
to do anything more.
In order to do even this successfully, it is essential
that every judgment passed should be exclusively
ruled by the principles which govern art. "Fine
art is not real art till it is free"; that is, till its value
is recognized as lying wholly within itself. And
it is not, unfortunately, altogether unnecessary to
insist that, so far from enhancing the value of an
artist's work, we only degrade it into mere means,
subordinate it to uses alien, and therefore antagonistic
to its perfection, if we try to show that it gives
pleasure, or refinement, or moral culture. There
is no doubt that great poetry has all these uses, but
the reader can enjoy them only on condition of for-
getting them; for they are effects that follow the
sense of its beauty. Art, morality, religion, is each
supreme in its own sphere; the beautiful is not
more beautiful because it is also moral, nor is a
painting great because its subject is religious. It
is true that their spheres overlap, and art is never
at its best except when it is a beautiful representa-
tion of the good; nevertheless the points of view
of the artist and of the ethical teacher are quite
different, and consequently also the elements within
which they work and the truth they reveal.
In attempting, therefore, to discover Robert
Browning's philosophy of life, I do not pretend that
my treatment of him is adequate. Browning is,
first of all, a poet; it is only as a poet that he can
be finally judged; and the greatness of a poet is to
INTRODUCTION.
15
be measured by the extent to which his writings are
a revelation of what is beautiful.
I undertake a different and a humbler task, con-
scious of its limitations, and aware that I can
hardly avoid doing some violence to the artist.
What I shall seek in the poet's writings is not
beauty, but truth; and although truth is beautiful,
and beauty is truth, still the poetic and philosophic
interpretation of life are not to be confused. Phi-
losophy must separate the matter from the form.
Its synthesis comes through analysis, and analysis
is destructive of beauty, as it is of all life. Art,
therefore, resists the violence of the critical methods
of philosophy, and the feud between them, of which
Plato speaks, will last through all time. The beauty
of form and the music of speech which criticism
destroys, and to which philosophy is, at the best,
indifferent, are essential to poetry. When we leave
them out of account we miss the ultimate secret of
poetry, for they cling to the meaning and penetrate
it with their charm. Thought and its expression
are inseparable in poetry, as they never are in
philosophy; hence, in the former, the loss of the
expression is the loss of truth. The pure idea that
dwells in a poem is suffused in the poetic utterance,
as sunshine breaks into beauty in the mist, as life
beats and blushes in the flesh, or as an impassioned
thought breathes in a thinker's face.
1
But, although art and philosophy are supreme,
each in its own realm, and neither can be subordin-
ated to the uses of the other, they may help each
16
ROBERT BROWNING.
other. They are independent, but not rival powers
of the world of mind. Not only is the interchange
of truth possible between them; but each may
show and give to the other all its treasures, and be
none the poorer itself. "It is in works of art that
some nations have deposited the profoundest intui-
tions and ideas of their hearts." Job and Isaiah,
Æschylus and Sophocles, Shakespeare and Goethe,
were first of all poets. Mankind is indebted
to them in the first place for revealing beauty;
but it also owes to them much insight into the facts
and principles of the moral world. It would be an
unutterable loss to the ethical thinker and the
philosopher, if this region were closed against them,
so that they could no longer seek in the poets the
inspiration and light that lead to goodness and truth.
In our own day, almost above all others, we need
the poets for these ethical and religious purposes.
For the utterances of the dogmatic teacher of re-
fligion have been divested of much of their ancient
authority; and the moral philosopher is often re-
garded either as a vendor of commonplaces or as
the votary of a discredited science, whose primary
principles are matter of doubt and debate. There
are not a few educated Englishmen who find in
the poets, and in the poets alone, the expression
of their deepest convictions concerning the pro-
foundest interests of life. They read the poets for
fresh inspiration, partly, no doubt, because the
passion and rapture of poetry lull criticism and
soothe the questioning spirit into acquiescence.
INTRODUCTION.
17
But there are further reasons; for the poets of
England are greater than its moral philosophers;
and it is of the nature of the poetic art that, while
eschewing system, it presents the strife between
right and wrong in concrete character, and there-
fore with a fulness and truth impossible to the
abstract thought of science.
"C
A poet never dreams :
We prose folk do we miss the proper duct
For thoughts on things unseen.
***
It is true that philosophy endeavours to correct this
fragmentariness by starting from the unity of the
whole. But it can never quite get rid of an element
of abstraction and reach down to the concrete
individual.
The making of character is so complex a process
that the poetic representation of it, with its subtle
suggestiveness, is always more complete and realistic
than any possible philosophic analysis. Science can
deal only with aspects and abstractions, and its
method becomes more and more inadequate as its
matter grows more concrete, unless it proceeds
from the unity in which all the aspects are held to-
gether. In the case of life, and still more so in that
of human conduct, the whole must precede the part,
and the moral science must, therefore, more than
any other, partake of the nature of poetry; for it
must start from living spirit, go from the heart
outwards, in order to detect the meaning of the
actions of man.
* Fifine at the Fair, lxxxviii.
18
ROBERT BROWNING.
On this account, poetry is peculiarly helpful to
the ethical investigator, because it always treats the
particular thing as a microcosm. It is the great
corrective of the onesidedness of science with its
harsh method of analysis and distinction. It is a
witness to the unity of man and the world. Every
object which art touches into beauty, becomes in
the very act a whole. The thing that is beautiful
is always complete, the embodiment of something
absolutely valuable, the product and the source of
love; and the beloved object is all the world for
the lover-beyond all praise, because it is above
all comparison.
"Then why not witness, calmly gazing,
If earth holds aught-speak truth above her ?
Above this tress, and this, I touch
But cannot praise, I love so much!" *
This characteristic of the work of art brings with it
an important practical consequence, because being
complete, it appeals to the whole man.
"Poetry," it has been well said, is "the idealized
and monumental utterance of the deepest feelings."
And poetic feelings, it must not be forgotten, are
deepest; that is, they are the afterglow of the fullest
activity of a complete soul, and not shallow titilla-
tions, or surface pleasures, such as the palate knows.
Led by poetry, the intellect so sees truth that it
glows with it, and the will is stirred to deeds of
heroism. For there is hardly any fact so mean, but
that when intensified by emotion, it grows poetic; as
* Song (Dramatic Lyrics).
INTRODUCTION.
19
there is hardly any man so unimaginative, but that
when struck with a great sorrow, or moved by a great
passion, he is endowed for a moment with the poet's
speech. A poetic fact, one may almost say, is just
any fact at its best. Art, it is true, looks at its object
through a medium, but it always seems its inmost
meaning. In Lear, Othello, Hamlet, in Falstaff and
Touchstone, there is a revelation of the inner truth
of human life beyond the power of moral science to
bestow. We do well to seek philosophy in the poets,
for though they teach only by hints and parables,
they nevertheless reflect the concrete truth of life,
as it is half revealed and half concealed in facts.
On the other hand, the reflective process of philos-
ophy may help poetry; for, as we shall show, there
is a near kinship between them. Even the critical
analyst, while severing element from element, may
help art and serve the poet's ends, provided he does
not in his analysis of parts forget the whole. His
function, though humble and merely preliminary to
full poetic enjoyment, is not unimportant. To
appreciate the grandeur of the unity of the work of
art, there must be knowledge of the parts combined.
It is quite true that the guide in the gallery is prone
to be too talkative, and there are many who can
afford to turn the commentator out of doors, especi-
ally if he moralizes. But, after all, man is not pure
sensibility, any more than he is pure reason. And
the aesthete will not lose if he occasionally allows
those whom he may think less sensitive than him-
self to the charm of rhythmic phrase, to direct sober
G
20
ROBERT BROWNING.
attention to the principles which lie embedded in all
great poetry. At the worst, to seek for truth in
poetry is a protest against the constant tendency
to read it for the sake of the emotions which it
stirs, the tendency to make it a refined amusement
and nothing more. That is a deeper wrong to art
than any which the theoretical moralist can inflict.
Of the two, it is better to read poetry for ethical
doctrines than for fine sensations; for poetry
purifies the passions only when it lifts the reader into
the sphere of truths that are universal.
•
The task of interpreting a poet may be under-
taken in different ways. One of these, with which
we have been made familiar by critics of Shake-
speare and of Browning himself, is to analyze each
poem by itself and regard it as the artistic em-
bodiment of some central idea; the other is to
attempt, without dealing separately with each poem,
to reach the poet's own point of view, and to reveal
the sovereign truths which rule his mind. It is this
latter way that I shall try to follow.
Such dominant or even despotic thoughts it is
possible to discover in all our great poets, except
perhaps Shakespeare, whose universality baffles
every classifier. As a rule, the English poets have
been caught up, and inspired, by the exceeding
grandeur of some single idea, in whose service they
spend themselves with that prodigal thrift which
finds life in giving it. Such an idea gives them a
fresh way of looking at the world, so that the world
grows young again with their new interpretation.
INTRODUCTION.
21
In the highest instances, poets may become makers
of epochs; they reform as well as reveal; for ideas
are never dead things, "but grow in the hand that
grasps them." In them lies the energy of a nation's
life, and we comprehend that life only when we make
clear to ourselves the thoughts which inspire it. It
is thus true, in the deepest sense, that those who
make the songs of a people make its history. In all
true poets there are hints for a larger philosophy of
life. But, in order to discover it, we must know the
truths which dominate them, and break into music
in their poems.
Whether it is always possible, and whether it is
at any time fair to a poet to define the idea which
inspires him, I shall not inquire at present. No
doubt, the interpretation of a poet from first prin-
ciples carries us beyond the limits of art; and by
insisting on the unity of his work, more may be
attributed to him, or demanded from him, than he
properly owns. To make such a demand is to re-
quire that poetry should be philosophy as well, which,
owing to its method of intuition, it can never be.
Nevertheless, among English poets there is no one
who lends himself so easily, or so justly, to this way
of treatment as Browning. Much of his poetry trem
bles on the verge of the abyss which is supposed
to separate art from philosophy; and, as I shall try
to show, there was in the poet a growing tendency
to turn the power of dialectic on the pre-suppositions
of his art. Yet, even Browning puts great difficulties
in the way of a critic, who seeks to draw a philosophy
+
22
ROBERT BROWNING.
of life from his poems. It is not by any means an
easy task to lift the truths he utters under the stress
of poetic emotion into the region of placid contem-
plation, or to connect them into a system, by means
of the principle from which he makes his departure.
The first of these difficulties arises from the extent
and variety of his work. He was prodigal of poetic
ideas, and wrote for fifty years on nature, art, and
man, like a magnificent spendthrift of spiritual
treasures. So great a store of knowledge lay at his
hand, so real and informed with sympathy, that
we can scarcely find any great literature which he
has not ransacked, any phase of life which is not
represented in his poems. All kinds of men and
women, in every station in life, and at every stage of
evil and goodness, crowd his pages. There are few
forms of human character he has not studied, and
each individual he has so caught at the supreme
moment of his life, and in the hardest stress of cir-
cumstance, that the inmost working of his nature is
revealed. The wealth is bewildering, and it is hard
to follow the central thought, "the imperial chord,
which steadily underlies the accidental mists of music
springing thence.” *
A second and still graver difficulty lies in the fact
that his poetry, as he repeatedly insisted, is "always
dramatic in principle, and so many utterances
of so many imaginary persons, not mine."† In his
earlier works, especially, Browning is creative rather
than reflective, a Maker rather than a Seer; and his
Fifine at the Fair.
† Pref. to Pauline, 1888.
INTRODUCTION.
23
creations stand aloof from him, working out their
fate in an outer world. We often lose the poet in
the imaginative characters, into whom he penetrates
with his keen artistic intuition, and within whom
he lies as a necessity revealing itself in their actions
and words. It is not easy anywhere to separate the
elements, so that we can say with certainty, “ Here
I catch the poet, there lies his material." The
identification of the work and worker is too intimate,
and the realization of the imaginary personage is too
complete.
In regard to the dramatic interpretation of his
poetry, Browning has manifested a peculiar sensitive-
ness. In his Preface to Pauline and in several of his
poems-notably The Mermaid, the House, and the
Shop-he explicitly cuts himself free from his work.
He knew that direct self-revealment on the part of
the poet violates the spirit of the drama. With
this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart," said
Wordsworth; "Did Shakespeare?" characteristic-
ally answers Browning, " If so, the less Shakespeare
he!" And of himself he asks:
""
"Which of you did I enable
Once to slip inside my breast,
There to catalogue and label
What I like least, what love best,
Hope and fear, believe and doubt of,
Seek and shun, respect-deride?
Who has right to make a rout of
Rarities he found inside? " *
He repudiates all kinship with Byron and his sub-
*At the Mermaid.
24
ROBERT BROWNING.
jective ways, and refuses to be made king by the
hands which anointed him. "He will not give his
woes an airing, and has no plague that claims
respect." Both as man and poet, in virtue of the
native, sunny, outer-air healthiness of his character,
every kind of subjectivity is repulsive to him. He
hands to his readers "his work, his scroll, theirs to
take or leave his soul he proffers not." For him
shop was shop only"; and though he dealt in
gems, and throws
С.
!
You choice of jewels, every one,
Good, better, best, star, moon, and sun," *
66
he still lived elsewhere, and had "stray thoughts and
fancies fugitive" not meant for the open market.
The poems in which Browning has spoken without
the disguise of another character are very few.
There are hardly more than two or three of much
importance which can be considered as directly re-
flecting his own ideas, namely, Christmas Eve and
Easter Day, La Saisiaz, and One Word More-unless,
spite of the poet's warning, we add Pauline.
But, although the dramatic element in Browning's
poetry renders it difficult to construct his character
from his works, while this is comparatively easy in
the case of Wordsworth or Byron; and although it
throws a shade of uncertainty on every conclusion we
might draw as to any specific doctrine held by him,
still Browning lives in a certain atmosphere, and
looks at his characters through a medium, whose
subtle influence makes all his work indisputably his.
* Shop.
INTRODUCTION.
25
The light he throws on his men and women is not
the unobtrusive light of day, which reveals objects,
but not itself. Though a true dramatist, he is not
objective like Shakespeare and Scott, whose char-
acters seem never to have had an author. The
reader feels, rather, that Browning himself attends
him through all the sights and wonders of the world of
man; he never escapes the sense of the presence of
the poet's powerful personality, or of the great con-
victions on which he has based his life. Browning
has, at bottom, only one way of looking at the world,
and one way of treating his objects; one point of
view, and one artistic method. Nay, further, he has
one supreme interest, which he pursues everywhere
with a constancy shown by hardly any other poet;
and, in consequence, his works have a unity and a
certain originality, which make them in many ways.
a unique contribution to English literature.
This characteristic, which no critic has missed, and
which generally goes by the name of the meta-
physical element" in his poetry, makes it the more
imperative to form a clear view of his ruling con-
ceptions. No poet, least of all a dramatic poet,
goes about seeking concrete vehicles for ready-made
ideas, or attempts to dress a philosophy in meta-
phors; and Browning, as an artist, is interested first
of all in the object which he renders beautiful for its
own sole sake, and not in any abstract idea it illus-
trates. Still, it is true in a peculiar sense in his case,
that the eye of the poet brings with it what it sees.
He is, as a rule, conscious of no theory, and does not
<<
26
ROBERT BROWNING.
construct a poem for its explication; he rather
strikes his ideas out of his material, as the sculptor
reveals the breathing life in the stone. Neverthe-
less, it may be shown that a theory rules him from
behind, and that profound convictions arise in the
heart and rush along the blood at the moment of
creation, using his soul as an instrument of expression
to his age and people.
Of no English poet, except Shakespeare, can we
say with approximate truth that he is the poet of
all times. The subjective breath of their own
epoch dims the mirror which they hold up to
nature. Missing by their limitation the highest
universality, they can only be understood in
their setting. It adds but little to our knowledge
of Shakespeare's work to regard him as the great
Elizabethan; there is nothing temporary in his
dramas, except petty incidents and external trap-
pings-so truly did he dwell amidst the elements
constituting man in every age and clime. But
this cannot be said of any other poet, not even of
Chaucer or Spenser, far less of Milton, or Pope or
Wordsworth. In their case, the artistic form and
the material, the idea and its expression, the beauty
and the truth, are to some extent separable. We
can distinguish in Milton between the Puritanic the-
ology which is perishable, and the art whose beauty
can never pass away. The former fixes his kinship
with his own age, gives him a definite place in the
evolution of English life; the latter is independent
of time, a thing which has supreme worth in itself.
INTRODUCTION.
27
Nor can it be doubted that the same holds good
of Browning. He also is ruled by the ideas of his
own age. It may not be altogether possible for us,
"who are partners of his motion and mixed up
with his career," to allow for the influence of these
ideas, and to distinguish between that which is
evanescent and that which is permanent in his
work; still I must try to do so; for it is the con-
dition of comprehending him, and of appropriating
the truth and beauty he came to reveal. And if
his nearness to ourselves makes this more difficult,
it also makes it more imperative. For there is no
doubt that, with Carlyle, he is the interpreter of ourl
time, reflecting its confused strength and chaotic/
wealth. He is the high priest of our age, standing
at the altar for us, and giving utterance to our
needs and aspirations, our fears and faith. By
understanding him, we shall, to some degree, under-
stand ourselves and the power which is silently
moulding us to its purposes.
It is because I thus regard Browning as not
merely a poet but a prophet, that I think I am
entitled to seek in him, as in Isaiah or Aeschylus, a
solution, or a help to the solution, of the problems
that press upon us when we reflect upon man, his
place in the world and his destiny. He has given
us indirectly, and as a poet gives, a philosophy of
life; he has interpreted the world anew in the light
of a dominant idea; and it will be no little gain if
we can make clear to ourselves those constitutive
principles on which his view of the world rests.
•
66
CHAPTER II.
ON THE NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE.
Art,—which I may style the love of loving, rage
Of knowing, seeing, feeling the absolute truth of things
For truth's sake, whole and sole, not any good, truth brings
The knower, seer, feeler, beside,—instinctive Art
Must fumble for the whole, once fixing on a part
However poor, surpass the fragment, and aspire
To reconstruct thereby the ultimate entire.” *
N°
O English poet has spoken more impressively
than Browning on the weightier matters of
morality and religion, or sought with more earnest-
ness to meet the difficulties which arise when we
try to penetrate to their ultimate principles. His
way of poetry is, I think, fundamentally different
from that of any other of our great writers. He
often seems to be roused into speech, rather by the
intensity of his spiritual convictions than by the
subtle incitements of poetic sensibility. His con-
victions caught fire, and truth became beauty
for him; not beauty, truth, as with Keats or
Shelley. He is swayed by ideas, rather than by
sublime moods. Beneath the endless variety of
his poems, there are permanent principles, or
* Fifine at the Fair, xliv.
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 29
"colligating conceptions," as science calls them; and
although these are expressed by the way of emotion,
they are held by him with all the resources of his
reason.
His work, though intuitive and perceptive as to
form, "gaining God by first leap" as all true art
must do, leaves the impression, when regarded as
a whole, of an articulated system. It is a view
of man's life and destiny that can be maintained,
not only during the impassioned moods of poetry,
but in the very presence of criticism and doubt.
His faith, like Pompilia's, is held fast "despite the
plucking fiend." He has given to us something
more than intuitive glimpses into the mysteries of
man's character. Throughout his life he held up
the steady light of an optimistic conception of the
world, and by its means injected new vigour into
English ethical thought. In his case, therefore, it
is not an immaterial question, but one almost forced
upon us, whether we are to take his ethical doc-
trine and inspiring optimism as valid truths, or to
regard them merely as subjective opinions held by
a religious poet. Are they creations of a powerful
imagination, and nothing more? Do they give to
the hopes and aspirations that rise so irrepressibly
in the heart of man anything better than an appear-
ance of validity, which will prove illusory the
moment the cold light of critical inquiry is turned
upon them?
It is to this unity of his work that I would
attribute, in the main, the impressiveness of his
30.
ROBERT BROWNING.
L
deliverances on morality and religion. And this
unity justifies us, I think, in applying to Brown-
ing's view of life methods of criticism that would be
out of place with any other English poet. It is
one of his unique characteristics, as already hinted,
that he has endeavoured to give us a complete
and reasoned view of the ethical nature of man,
and of his relation to the world-has sought, in
fact, to establish a philosophy of life. In his case,
not without injustice, it is true, but with less in-
justice than in the case of any other poet, we may
disregard, for our purposes, the artistic method of
his thought, and lay stress on its content only. He
has a right to a place amongst philosophers, as
Plato has to a place amongst poets. There is such
deliberate earnestness and systematic consistency
in his teaching, that Hegel can scarcely be said to
have maintained that "The Rational is the Real "
with greater intellectual tenacity, than Browning
held to his view of life. He sought, in fact, to
establish an Idealism; and that Idealism, like
Kant's and Fichte's, has its last basis in the moral
consciousness.
- 14, 14,
But, even if it be considered that it is not alto-
gether just to apply these critical tests to the poet's
teaching, and to make him pay the penalty for
assuming a place amongst philosophers, it is certain
that what he says of man's spiritual life cannot be
rightly valued, till it is regarded in the light of his
guiding principles. We shall miss much of what
is best in him, even as a poet, if, for instance, we
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 31
regard his treatment of love merely as the expression
of elevated passion, or his optimism as based upon
mere hope. Love was to him rather an indwelling
element in the world, present, like power, in every-
thing.
"From the first, Power was-I knew.
Life has made clear to me
That, strive but for closer view,
Love were as plain to see.
""
Love yielded to him, as Reason did to Hegel, a
fundamental exposition of the nature of things. Or,
to express the same thing in another way, it was a
deliberate hypothesis, which he sought to apply to
facts and to test by their means, almost in the
same manner as that in which natural science
applies and tests its principles.
That Browning's ethical and religious ideas were
for him something different from, and perhaps more
than, mere poetic sentiments, will, I believe, be
scarcely denied. That he held a deliberate theory,
and held it with greater and greater difficulty as he
became older, and as his dialectical tendencies grew
and threatened to wreck his artistic freedom, is
evident to any one who regards his work as a whole.
But it will not be admitted so readily that anything.
other than harm can issue from an attempt to deal
with him as if he were a philosopher. Even if it be
allowed that he held and expressed a definite theory,
will it retain any value if we take it out of the region
of poetry and impassioned religious faith, into the
* Reverie-Asolando.
32
ROBERT BROWNING.
frigid zone of philosophical inquiry? Could any one
maintain, apart from the intoxication of religious and
poetic sentiment, that the essence of existence is love?
As long as we remain within the realm of imagina-
tion, it may be argued, we may find in our poet's
great sayings both solacement and strength, both rest
and an impulse towards higher moral endeavour; but
if we seek to treat them as theories of facts, and turn
upon them the light of the understanding, will they
not inevitably prove to be hallucinations? Poetry,
we think, has its own proper place and function. It
is an invaluable anodyne to the cark and care of
reflective thought; an opiate which, by steeping the
critical intellect in slumber, sets the soul free to
rise on the wings of religious faith. But reason
breaks the spell; and the world of poetry, and re-
ligion-a world which to them is always beautiful
and good with God's presence-becomes a system
of inexorable laws, dead, mechanical, explicable in
strict truth, as an equipoise of constantly changing
forms of energy.
•
There is, at the present time, a widespread belief
that we had better keep poetry and religion beyond
the reach of critical investigation, if we set any store
by them. Faith and reason are thought to be finally
divorced. It is an article of the common creed that
every attempt which the world has made to bring
them together has resulted in denial, or at the best
in doubt, regarding all supersensuous facts. The
one condition of leading a full life, of maintaining
a living relation between ourselves and both the
1
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 33
T
spiritual and material elements of our existence, is
to make our lives an alternating rhythm of the head
and heart, to distinguish with absolute clearness
between the realm of reason and that of faith.
Now, such an assumption would be fatal to any
attempt like the present, to find truth in poetry; and
I must, therefore, try to meet it before entering upon
a statement and criticism of Browning's view of life.
I cannot admit that the difficulties of placing the
facts of man's spiritual life on a rational basis are
so great as to justify the assertion that there is no
such basis, or that it is not discoverable by man.
Surely, it is unreasonable to make intellectual death
the condition of spiritual life. If such a condition
were imposed on man, it must inevitably defeat its
own purpose; for man cannot possibly continue to
live a divided life, and persist in believing that for
which his reason knows no defence. We must, in
the long run, either rationalize our faith in morality
*and religion, or abandon them as illusions. And we
should at least hesitate to deny that reason-in spite
of its apparent failure in the past to justify our faith
in the principles of spiritual life—may yet, as it be-
comes aware of its own nature and the might which
dwells in it, find beauty and goodness, nay, God him-
self, in the world. We should at least hesitate to
condemn man to choose between irreflective igno-
rance and irreligion, or to lock the intellect and the
highest emotions of our nature and principles of our
life, in a mortal struggle. Poetry and religion may,
after all, be truer then prose, and have something to
2
34
ROBERT BROWNING.
tell the world that science, which is often ignorant of
its own limits, cannot teach.
The failure of philosophy in the past, even if it
were as complete as is believed by persons ignorant
of its history, is no argument against its success
in the future. Such persons have never known
that the world of thought like that of action makes
a stepping stone of its dead self. He who presumes
to decide what passes the power of man's thought,
or to prescribe absolute limits to human knowledge,
is rash, to say the least; and he has neither caught
the most important of the lessons of modern science,
nor been lifted to the level of its inspiration. For
science has done one thing greater than to unlock
the secrets of nature. It has revealed something
of the might of reason, and given new grounds for
the faith, which in all ages has inspired the effort
to know, the faith that the world is an intelligible
structure, meant to be penetrated by the thought of
man. Can it be that nature is an "open secret," buť
that man, and he alone, must remain an enigma ?
Or does he not rather bear within himself the key
to every problem which he solves, and is it not
his thought which penetrates the secrets of nature?
The success of science, in reducing to law the most
varied and apparently unconnected facts, should dis-
pel any suspicion which attaches to the attempt to
gather these laws under still wider ones, and to
interpret the world in the light of the highest prin-
ciples. And this is precisely what poetry and religion
and philosophy do, each in its own way. They carry
Lothi
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 35
the work of the sciences into wider regions, and that,
as I shall try to show, by methods which, in spite of
many external differences, are fundamentally at one
with those which the sciences employ.
There is only one way of giving the quietus to the
metaphysics of poets and philosophers, and of show-
ing the futility of a philosophy of life, or of any
scientific explanation of religion and morals. It is
to show that there is some radical absurdity in the
very attempt. Till this is done, the human mind will
not give up problems of weighty import, however
hard it may be to solve them. The world refused to
believe Socrates when he pronounced a science of
nature impossible, and centuries of failure did not
break man's courage. Science, it is true, has given
up some problems as insoluble; it will not now
try to construct a perpetually moving machine, or
to square the circle. But it has given them up, not
because they are difficult, but because they are
unreasonable tasks. The problems have a surd or
irrational element in them; and to solve them
would be to bring reason into collision with itself.
Now, whatever may be the difficulties of establish-
ing a theory of life, or a philosophy, it has never
been shown to be an unreasonable task to attempt
it. One might, on the contrary, expect, prima facie,
that in a world progressively proved to be intelligible
to man, man himself would be no exception. It is
impossible that the "light in him should be dark-
ness," or that the thought which reveals the order
of the world should be itself chaotic.
36
ROBERT BROWNING.
● 10
The need for philosophy is just the ultimate form
of the need for knowledge; and the truths which
philosophy brings to light are implied in every
rational explanation of things. The only choice we
can have is between a conscious metaphysics and an
unconscious one, between hypotheses which we have
examined and whose limitations we know, and hypo-
theses which rule us from behind, as pure prejudices
do. It is because of this that the empiric is so dog-
matic, and the ignorant man so certain of the truth
of his opinion. They do not know their postulates,
nor are they aware that there is no interpretation of
an object which does not finally point to a theory of
being. We understand no joint or ligament, except
in relation to the whole organism, and no fact, or
event, except by finding a place for it in the context
of our experience. The history of the pebble can be
given, only in the light of the story of the earth, as
it is told by the whole of geology. We must begin
very far back, and bring our widest principles to bear
upon the particular thing, if we wish really to know
what it is. It is a law that explains, and laws are
always universal. All our knowledge, even the most
broken and inconsistent, streams from some funda-
mental conception, in virtue of which all the variety
of objects constitute one world, one orderly kosmos,
even to the meanest mind. It is true that the
central thought, be it rich or poor, must, like the
sun's light, be broken against particular facts.
But there is no need of forgetting the real source
of knowledge, or of deeming that its progress is a
D
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 37
synthesis without law, or an addition of fact to fact
without any guiding principles.
Now, it is the characteristic of poetry and phi-
losophy that they keep alive our consciousness of
these primary, uniting principles. They always
dwell in the presence of the idea which makes their
object one. To them the world is always, and neces-
sarily, a harmonious whole, as it is also to the
religious spirit. It is because of this that the uni-
verse is a thing of beauty for the poet, a revelation
of God's goodness to the devout soul, and a mani-
festation of absolute reason to the philosopher.
Art, religion, and philosophy fail or flourish to-
gether. The age of prose and scepticism appears
when the sense of the presence of the whole in the
particular facts of the world and of life has been
dulled. And there is a necessity in this; for if the
conception of the world as a whole is held to be
impossible, if philosophy is a futility, then poetry
will be a vain sentiment and religion a delusion.
Nor will the failure of thought, when once demon-
strated in these upper regions, be confined to them.
On the contrary, it will spread downwards to science
and ordinary knowledge, as mountain mists blot
out the valleys. For every synthesis of fact to fact,
every attempt to know, however humble and limited,
is inspired by a secret faith in the unity of the
world. Each of the sciences works within its own
region, and colligates its details in the light of its
own hypothesis; and all the sciences taken together
presuppose the presence in the world of a principle
38
ROBERT BROWNING.
that binds it into an orderly totality. Scientific
explorers know that they are all working towards
the same centre. And, ever and anon, as the isolated
thinker presses home his own hypothesis, he finds
his thought beating on the limits of his science, and
suggesting some wider hypothesis. The walls that
separate the sciences are wearing thin, and at times
light penetrates from one to the other. So that
to their votaries, at least, the faith is progressively
justified, that there is a meeting point for the
sciences, a central truth in which the dispersed rays.
will again be gathered together. In fact, all the
sciences are working together under the guidance of
a principle common to them all, although it may not
be consciously known and no attempt is made to
define it. In science, as in philosophy and art and
religion, there is a principle of unity, which, though
latent, is really prior to all explanation of particular
matters of fact.
In truth, man has only one way of knowing.
There is no fundamental difference between scien-
tific and philosophic procedure. We always light
up facts by means of general laws. The fall of
the stone was a perfect enigma, a universally un-
intelligible bit of experience, till the majestic imag-
ination of Newton conceived the idea of universal
gravitation. Wherever mind successfully invades
the realm of chaos, poetry, the sense of the whole,
comes first. There is the intuitive flash, the pene-
trative glimpse, got no one knows exactly whence
--though we do know that it comes neither from
1
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 39
the dead facts nor from the vacant region of a
priori thought, but somehow from the interaction
of both these elements of knowledge. After the
intuitive flash comes the slow labour of proof, the
application of the principle to details. And that
application transforms both the principle and the
details, so that the former is enriched with content
and the latter are made intelligible-a veritable
conquest and valid possession for mankind. And
in this labour of proof, science and philosophy alike
take their share.
Philosophy may be said to come midway between
poetry and science, and to partake of the nature
of both. On the one side it deals, like poetry,
with ideals of knowledge, and announces truths
which it does not completely verify; on the other, it
leaves to science the task of articulating its prin-
ciples in facts, though it begins the articulation
itself. It reveals subsidiary principles, and is, at
the same time, a witness for the unity of the
categories of science. We may say, if we wish,
that its principles are mere hypotheses. But so
are the ideas which underlie the most practical
of the sciences; so is every forecast of genius by
virtue of which knowledge is extended; so is
every principle of knowledge not completely worked
out. To say that philosophy is hypothetical im-
plies no charge, other than that which can be
levelled, in the same sense, against the most solid
body of scientific knowledge in the world. The
fruitful question in each case alike is, how far, if
40
ROBERT BROWNING.
at all, does the hypothesis enable us to understand
particular facts.
The more careful of our scientific thinkers are
well aware of the limits under which they work and
of the hypothetical character of their results. "I
take Euclidean space, and the existence of material
particles and elemental energy for granted," says
the physicist ; "deny them, and I am helpless;
grant them, and I shall establish quantitative
relations between the different forms of this ele-
mental energy, and make it tractable and tame to
man's uses. All I teach depends upon my hypothesis.
In it is the secret of all the power I wield. I do not
pretend to say what this elemental energy is. I
make no declaration regarding the actual nature of
things; and all questions as to the ultimate origin
or final destination of the world are beyond the scope
of my inquiry. I am ruled by my hypothesis; I
regard phenomena from my point of view; and my
right to do so I substantiate by the practical and
theoretical results which follow." The language of
geology, chemistry, zoology, and even mathema-
tics is the same. They all start from a hypothesis;
they are all based on an imaginative conception,
and in this sense their votaries are poets, who see
the unity of being throb in the particular fact.
Now, so far as the particular sciences are con-
cerned, I presume that no one will deny the supreme
power of these colligating ideas. The sciences do
not grow by a process of empiricism, which rambles
tentatively and blindly from fact to fact, unguided of
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 41
any hypothesis. But if they do not, if, on the con-
trary, each science is ruled by its own hypothesis,
and uses that hypothesis to bind its facts together,
then the question arises, are there no wider colli-
gating principles amongst these hypotheses them-
selves? Are the sciences independent of each other,
or is their independence only surface appearance?
This is the question which philosophy asks, and the
sciences themselves by their progress suggest a posi-
tive answer to it.
The knowledge of the world which the sciences
are building is not a chaotic structure. By their
apparently independent efforts, the outer kosmos
is gradually reproduced in the mind of man, and the
temple of truth is silently rising. We may not as yet
be able to connect wing with wing, or to declare
definitely the law of the whole. The logical order of
the hypotheses of the various sciences, the true con-
nection of these categories of constructive thought,
may yet be uncertain. But, still, there is such an
order and connection: the whole building has its
plan, which becomes more and more intelligible as
it approaches to its completion. Beneath all the
differences, there are fundamental principles which
give to human thought a definite unity of movement
and direction. There are architectonic conceptions
which are guiding, not only the different sciences,
but all the modes of thought of an age. There are
intellectual media, "working hypotheses," by means
of which successive centuries observe all that they
see; and these far-reaching constructive principles
42
ROBERT BROWNING.
divide the history of mankind into distinct stages.
In a word, there are dynasties of great ideas, such as
the idea of development in our own day; and these
successively ascend the throne of mind, and hold
a sway over human thought which is well-nigh
absolute.
Now, if this is so, is it certain that all knowledge
of these ruling conceptions is impossible? In other
words, is the attempt to construct a philosophy
absurd? To say that it is, to deny the possibility
of catching any glimpse of those regulative ideas,
which determine the main tendencies of human
thought, is to place the supreme directorate of the
human intelligence in the hands of a necessity which,
for us, is blind. For, an order that is hidden is
equivalent to chance, so far as knowledge is con-
cerned; and if we believe it to exist, we do so in
the face of the fact that all we see, and all we can
see, is the opposite of order, namely lawlessness.
Human knowledge, on this view, would be subjected
to law in its details and compartments, but to
disorder as a whole. Thinking men would be
organized into regiments; but the regiments would
not constitute an army, nor would there be any
unity of movement in the attack on the realm of
ignorance.
But, such is not the conclusion to which the study
of human history leads, especially when we observe
its movements on a large scale. On the contrary,
it is found that history falls into great epochs, each
of which has its own peculiar characteristics. Ages,
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 43
as well as nations and individuals, have features of
their own, special and definite modes of thinking
and acting. The movement of thought in each age
has its own direction, which is determined by some
characteristic and fundamental idea, that fulfils
for it the part of a working hypothesis in a particular
science. It is the prerogative of the greatest leaders
of thought in an age to catch a glimpse of this
ruling idea when it first makes its appearance; and
it is their function, not only to discover it, but also
to reveal it to others. And, in this way, they are at
once the exponents of their time, and its prophets.
They reveal that which is already a latent but active
power-" a tendency"; but they reveal it to a gen-
eration which will see the truth for itself, only after
the potency which lies in it has manifested itself in
national institutions and habits of thought and
action. After the prophets have left us, we believe
what they have said; as long as they are with us,
they are voices crying in the wilderness.
Now, these great ideas, these harmonies of the
world of mind, first strike upon the ear of the poet.
They seem to break into the consciousness of man
by the way of emotion. They possess the seer; he
is divinely mad, and he utters words whose meaning
passes his own calmer comprehension. What we
find in Goethe, we find also in a manner in Brown-
ing an insight which is also foresight, a dim and
partial consciousness of the truth about to be,
sending its light before it, and anticipating all
systematic reflection. It is an insight which appears
44
ROBERT BROWNING.
to be independent of all method; but it is in nature,
though not in sweep and expanse, akin to the in-
tuitive leap by which the scientific explorer lights
upon his new hypothesis. We can find no other
law for it, than that sensitiveness to the beauty and
truth hidden in facts, which much reflection on them
generates for genius. For these great minds the
muddy vesture" is worn thin by thought, and they
hear the immortal music.
<<
The poet soon passes his glowing torch into the
hands of the philosopher. After Aeschylus and
Sophocles, come Plato and Aristotle. The intuitive
flash grows into a fixed light, which rules the day.
The great idea, when reflected upon, becomes a
system. When the light of such an idea is steadily
held on human affairs, it breaks into endless forms
of beauty and truth. The content of the idea is
gradually evolved; hypotheses spring out of it,
which are accepted as principles, rule the mind of
an age, and give it its work and its character. In
this way, Hobbes and Locke laid down, or at least
defined, the boundaries within which moved the
thought of the eighteenth century; and no one
acquainted with the poetic and philosophic thought
of Germany, from Lessing to Goethe and from Kant
to Hegel, can fail to find therein the source and
spring of the constitutive principles of our own
intellectual, social, political, and religious life. The
virtues and the vices of the aristocracy of the world
of mind penetrate downwards. The works of the
poets and philosophers, so far from being filled with
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 45
impracticable dreams, are repositories of great
suggestions which the world adopts for its guidance.
The poets and philosophers lay no railroads and
invent no telephones; but they, nevertheless, bring
about that attitude towards nature, man and God,
and generate those moods of the general mind,
from which issue, not only the scientific, but also
the social, political and religious forces of the age.
It is mainly on this account that I cannot treat
the supreme utterances of Browning lightly, or
think it an idle task to try to connect them into a
philosophy of life. In his optimism of love, in his
supreme confidence in man's destiny and sense of
the infinite height of the moral horizon of humanity,
in his courageous faith in the good, and his profound
conviction of the evanescence of evil, there lies a
vital energy whose inspiring power we are yet
destined to feel. Until a spirit kindred to his own
arises, able to push the battle further into the same
region, much of the practical task of the age that is
coming will consist in living out in detail the ideas
to which he has given expression.
1
I contend, then, not merely for a larger charity,
but for a truer view of the facts of history than is
evinced by those who set aside the poets and philos-
ophers as mere dreamers, and conceive that the
sciences alone occupy the region of valid thought in
all its extent. There is a universal brotherhood
of which all who think are members. Not only do
they all contribute to man's victory over his environ-
ment and himself, but they contribute in a manner
46
ROBERT BROWNING.
which is substantially the same. There are many
points of superficial distinction between the pro-
cesses of philosophy and science, and between both
and the method of poetry; but the inner movement,
if one may so express it, is identical in all. It is
time to have done with the notion that philosophers
occupy a transcendent region beyond experience, or
spin spiritual cocoons by a priori methods, and with
the view that scientific men are mere empirics,
building their structures from below by an a pos-
teriori way of thought, without the help of any
ruling conceptions. All alike endeavour to interpret
experience, but none of them get their principles
from it.
""
But, friends,
Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise
From outward things, whate'er you may believe."
There is room and need for the higher synthesis of
philosophy and poetry, as well as for the more
palpable and, at the same time, more narrow colli-
gating conceptions of the systematic sciences. The
quantitative relations between material objects,
which are investigated by mathematics and physics,
do not exhaust the realm of the knowable, so as to
leave no place for the poet's, or the philosopher's
view of the world. The scientific investigator who,
like Mr. Tyndall, so far forgets the limitations of his
province as to use his natural data as premises for
religious or irreligious_conclusions, is as illogical
as the popular preacher, who attacks scientific
conclusions because they are not consistent with his
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 47
theological presuppositions. Looking only at their
primary aspects, we cannot say that religious
presuppositions and the scientific interpretation of
facts are either consistent or inconsistent: they are
simply different. Their harmony or discord can
come only when the higher principles of philosophy
have been fully developed, and when the depart-
mental ideas of the various sciences are organized
into a view of the world as a whole. And this is a
task which has not as yet been accomplished. The
forces from above and below have not met. When
they do meet, they will assuredly find that they are
friends, and not foes. For philosophy can articulate
its supreme conception only by interaction with
the sciences; and, on the other hand, the progress
of science, and the effectiveness of its division of
labour, are ultimately conditioned by its sensitiveness
to the hints, given by poets and philosophers, of
those wider principles in virtue of which the world
is conceived as a unity. There are many, indeed,
who cannot see the wood for the trees, as there
are others who cannot see the trees for the wood.
Carlyle cared nothing though science were able to
turn a sunbeam on its axis; Ruskin sees little in
the advance of invention except more slag-hills.
And scientific men have not been slow to return
with interest the scorn of the moralists. But a
more comprehensive view of the movement of
human knowledge will show that none labour in
vain. For its movement is that of a thing which
grows and in growth there is always movement
48
ROBERT BROWNING.
towards both unity and difference. Science, in
pursuing truth into greater and greater detail, is
constrained by its growing consciousness of the
unlimited wealth of its material, to divide and
isolate its interests more and more; and thus, at the
same time, the need for the poets and philosophers
is growing deeper, their task is becoming more
difficult of achievement, and a greater triumph in
so far as it is achieved. Both science and philos-
ophy are working towards a more concrete view
of the world as an articulated whole. If we cannot
quite say with Browning that "poets never dream,"
we may yet admit with gratitude that their dreams
are an inspiration.
66
Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to clear.
Each sufferer says his say, his scheme of the weal and woe :
But God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear;
The rest may reason and welcome: 'tis we musicians know." *
And side by side with the poetry that grasps the
truth in immediate intuition, there is also the uniting
activity of philosophy, which, catching up its hints,
carries “back our scattered knowledge of the facts
and laws of nature to the principle upon which they
rest; and, on the other hand, develops that prin-
ciple so as to fill all the details of knowledge with
a significance which they cannot have in themselves,
but only as seen sub specie aeternitatis.” †
So far we have spoken of the function of philosophy
* Abt Vogler.
† The Problem of Philosophy at the Present Time, by Professor
Caird.
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 49
in the interpretation of the phenomena of the outer
world. It bears witness to the unity of knowledge,
and strives by the constructive criticism of the
categories of science to render that unity explicit.
Its function is, no doubt, valid and important, for
it is evident that man cannot rest content with
fragmentary knowledge. But still, it might be
objected that it is premature at present to endeavour
to formulate that unity. Physics, chemistry, biol-
ogy, and the other sciences, while they necessarily
presuppose the unity of knowledge, and attempt in
their own way and in their own sphere to discover
it, are making very satisfactory headway without
raising any of the desperate questions of meta-
physics as to its ultimate nature. For them it is
not likely to matter for a long time to come whether
Optimism or Pessimism, Materialism or Idealism,
or none of them, be true. In any case the principles
they establish are valid. Physical relations always
remain true; ginger will be hot i' the mouth, and
there will be more cakes and ale." It is only when
the sciences break down beneath the weight of
knowledge and prove themselves inadequate, that
it becomes necessary or advantageous to seek for
more comprehensive principles. At present is it
not better to persevere in the way of science, than
to be seduced from it by the desire to solve ultimate
problems, which, however reasonable and pressing,
seem to be beyond our power to answer?
(C
Such reasonings are not convincing; still, so far
as natural science is concerned, they seem to
50
ROBERT BROWNING.
indicate that there might be no great harm in
ignoring, for a time, its dependence on the wider
aspects of human thought. There is no department
of nature so limited, but that it may more than
satisfy the largest ambition of the individual for
knowledge. But this attitude of indifference to
ultimate questions is liable at any moment to be
disturbed.
"Just when we are safest, there's a sunset-touch,
A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death,
A chorus-ending from Euripides,-
And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears
As old and new at once as nature's self,
To rap and knock and enter in our soul,
Take hands and dance there, a fantastic ring,
Round the ancient idol, on his base again,-
The grand Perhaps ! We look on helplessly.
There the old misgivings, crooked questions are.
""
*
Amongst the facts of our experience which cry
most loudly for some kind of solution, are those of
our own inner life. We are in pressing need of a
"working hypothesis" wherewith to understand our-
selves, as well as of a theory which will explain
the revolution of the planets, or the structure of
an oyster. And this self of ours intrudes every-
where. It is only by resolutely shutting our eyes,
that we can forget the part it plays even in the
outer world of natural science. So active is it in
the constitution of things, so dependent is their
nature on the nature of our knowing faculties, that
scientific men themselves admit that their surest
* Bishop Blougram's Apology.
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 51
results are only hypothetical. Their truth depends
on laws of thought which natural science does not
investigate.
But quite apart from this doctrine of the relativity
of knowledge, which is generally first acknowledged
and then ignored, every man, the worst and the
best alike, is constrained to take some practical
attitude towards his fellows. Man is never alone
with nature, and the connections with his fellows
which sustain his intelligent life, are liable to bring
him into trouble, if they are not to some degree
understood.
"There's power in me," said Bishop Blougram, "and will to
dominate
Which I must exercise, they hurt me else."
The impulse to know is only a phase of the more
general impulse to act and to be. The specialist's
devotion to his science is his answer to a demand,
springing from his practical need, that he realize
himself through action. He does not construct his
edifice of knowledge, as the bird is supposed to
build its nest, without any consciousness of an end
to be attained thereby. Even if, like Lessing, he
values the pursuit of truth for its own sake, still
what stings him into effort is the sense that in truth
only can he find the means of satisfying and realizing
himself. Beneath all man's activities, as their very
spring and source, there lies some dim conception
of an end to be attained. This is his moral con-
sciousness, which no neglect will utterly suppress.
52
ROBERT BROWNING.
All human effort, the effort to know like every
other, conceals within it a reference to some good,
conceived at the time as supreme and complete ;
and this, in turn, contains a theory both of man's
self and of the universe on which he must impress
his image. Every man must have his philosophy
of life, simply because he must act; though, in
many cases, that philosophy may be latent and
unconscious, or, at least, not a definite object of re-
flection. The most elementary question directed
at his moral consciousness will at once elicit the
universal element. We cannot ask whether an
action be right or wrong without awakening all the
echoes of metaphysics. As there is no object on the
earth's surface whose equilibrium is not fixed by its
relation to the earth's centre, so the most elemen-
tary moral judgment, the simplest choice, the most
irrational vagaries of a will calling itself free and
revelling in its supposed lawlessness, are dominated
by the conception of a universal good. Everything
that a man does is an attempt to articulate his
view of this good, with a particular content. Hence,
man as a moral agent is always the centre of his
own horizon, and stands right beneath the zenith.
Little as he may be aware of it, his relation between
himself and his supreme good is direct. And he
orders his whole world from his point of view, just
as he regards East and West as meeting at the spot
on which he stands. Whether he will or not, he
cannot but regard the universe of men and objects
as the instrument of his purposes. He extracts
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 53
all its interest and meaning from himself. His own
shadow falls upon it all. If he is selfish, that is,
if he interprets the self that is in him as vulturous,
then the whole outer world and his fellow-men fall
for him into the category of carrion, or not-carrion.
If he knows himself as spirit, as the energy of love
or reason, if the prime necessity he recognizes
within himself is the necessity to be good, then the
universe becomes for him an instrument wherewith
moral character is evolved. In all cases alike, his
life-work is an effort to rob the world of its alien
character, and to translate it into terms of himself.
We are in the habit of fixing a chasm between a
man's deeds and his metaphysical, moral, and re-
ligious creed; and even of thinking that he can get
on "in a sufficiently prosperous manner," without
any such creed. Can we not digest without a theory
of peptics, or do justice without constructing an ideal
state? The truest answer, though it is an answer
easily misunderstood, is that we cannot. In the sphere
of morality, at least, action depends on knowledge :
Socrates was right in saying that virtuous conduct
ignorant of its end is accidental. Man's action, so far
as it is good or evil, is shot through and through with
his intelligence. And once we clearly distinguish
between belief and profession, between the motives
which really impel our actions and the psychological
account of them with which we may deceive ourselves
and others, we shall be obliged to confess that we
always act our creed. A man's conduct, just because
he is man, is generated by his view of himself and
54
ROBERT BROWNING.
his world. He who cheats his neighbour believes
in tortuosity, and, as Carlyle says, has the Supreme
Quack for his God. No one ever acted without some
dim, though perhaps foolish enough, half-belief that
the world was at his back; whether he plots good
or evil he always has God as an accomplice. And
this is why character cannot be really bettered by
any peddling process. Moralists and preachers are
right in insisting on the need of a new life, that is,
of a new principle, as the basis of any real improve-
ment; and such a principle necessarily carries in it
a new attitude towards men, and a new interpreta-
tion of the moral agent himself and of his world.
Thus, wherever we touch the practical life of man,
we are at once referred to a metaphysic. His creed
is the heart of his character, and it beats as a pulse
in every action. Hence, when we deal with moral
life, we must start from the centre. In our intellec-
tual life, it is not obviously unreasonable to suppose
that there is no need of endeavouring to reach upward
to a constructive idea, which makes the universe one,
but when we act, such self-deception is not pos-
sible. As a moral agent, and a moral agent man
always is, he not only may, but must have his work-
ing hypothesis, and that hypothesis must be all-
inclusive. As there are natural laws which connect
man's physical movements with the whole system of
nature, so there are spiritual relations which connect
him with the whole spiritual universe; and spiritual
relations are always direct.
Now it follows from this, that, whenever we con-
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 55
sider man as a moral agent, that is, as an agent who
converts ideas into actual things, the need of a
philosophy becomes evident. Instead of condemning
ideal interpretations of the universe as useless dreams,
the foolish products of an ambition of thought which
refuses to respect the limits of the human intellect,
we shall understand that philosophers and poets
are really striving with greater clearness of vision,
and in a more sustained manner, to perform the task
which all men are obliged to perform in some way
or other. Man subsists as a natural being only
on condition of comprehending, to some degree, the
conditions of his natural life, and the laws of his
natural environment. From earliest youth upwards,
he is learning that fire will burn and water drown,
and that he can play with the elements with safety
only within the sphere lit up by his intelligence.
Nature will not pardon the blunders of ignorance,
nor tamely submit to every hasty construction.
And this truth is still more obvious in relation to
man's moral life. Here, too, and in a pre-eminent
degree, conduct waits on intelligence. Deep will
only answer unto deep; and great characters only
come with much meditation on the things that are
highest. And, on the other hand, the misconstruc-
tion of life's meaning flings man back upon himself,
and makes his action nugatory. Byronism was
driven "howling home again," says the poet. The
universe will not be interpreted in terms of sense,
nor be treated as carrion, as Carlyle said. There
is no rest in the "Everlasting No," because it is a
56
BROWNING.
ROBERT
wrong view of man and of the world. Or rather,
the negative is not everlasting; and man is driven
onwards by despair, through the "Centre of In-
difference," till he finds a "Universal Yea❞—a true
view of his relation to the universe.
There is given to men the largest choice to do
or to let alone, at every step in life. But there is
one necessity which they cannot escape, because
they carry it within them. They absolutely must
try to make the world their home, find some kind of
reconciling idea between themselves and the forces.
amidst which they move, have some kind of working
hypothesis of life. Nor is it possible to admit that
they will find rest till they discover a true hypothesis.
If they do not seek it by reflection-if, in their ardour
to penetrate into the secrets of nature, they forget
themselves; if they allow the supreme facts of their
moral life to remain in the confusion of tradition,
and seek to compromise the demands of their spirit
by sacrificing to the idols of their childhood's faith;
if they fortify themselves in the indifference of
agnosticism, they must reap the harvest of their
irreflection. Ignorance is not harmless in matters
of character any more than in the concerns of our
outer life. There are in national and in individual
history seasons of despair, and that despair, when it
is deepest, is ever found to be the shadow of moral
failure the result of going out into action with a
false view of the purpose of human life, and a
wrong conception of man's destiny. At such
times, the people have not understood themselves
NEED OF A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE. 57
or their environment, and, in consequence, they
come into collision with their own welfare. There
is no experiment so dangerous to an age or people,
as that of relegating to the common ignorance of
unreasoning faith the deep concerns of moral con-
duct; and there is no attitude more pitiable than
that which leads it to turn a deaf ear and the lip
of contempt towards those philosophers who carry
the spirit of scientific inquiry into these higher
regions, and endeavour to establish for mankind,
by the irrefragable processes of reason, those prin-
ciples on which rest all the great elements of man's
destiny. We cannot act without a theory of life ;
and to whom shall we look for such a theory, except
to those who, undaunted by the difficulties of the
task, ask once more, and strive to answer, those
problems which man cannot entirely escape, as long
as he continues to think and act ?
CHAPTER III.
BROWNING'S PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
He seems
"But there's a great contrast between him and me.
vety content with life, and takes much satisfaction in the world.
It's a very strange and curious spectacle to behold a man in these
days so confidently cheerful." (Carlyle.)
IT
T has been said of Carlyle, who may for many
reasons be considered as our poet's twin figure,
that he laid the foundations of his world of thought
in Sartor Resartus, and never enlarged them. His
Orientirung was over before he was forty years old
-as is, indeed, the case with most men. After
that period there was no fundamental change in his
view of the world; nothing which can be called a
new idea disturbed his outline sketch of the universe.
He lived afterwards only to fill it in, showing with
ever greater detail the relations of man to man in
history, and emphasizing with greater grimness the
war of good and evil in human action. There is
evidence, it is true, that the formulae from which he
more or less consciously set forth, ultimately proved
too narrow for him, and we find him beating himself
in vain against their limitations; still, on the whole,
Carlyle speculated within the range and influence of
"
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
59
+
principles adopted early in life, and never abandoned
for higher or richer ideas, or substantially changed.
In these respects, there is considerable resemblance
between Carlyle and Browning. Browning, indeed,
fixed his point of view and chose his battleground
still earlier; and he held it resolutely to his life's
close. In his Pauline and in his Epilogue to Asolando
we catch the triumphant tone of a single idea, which,
during all the long interval, had never sunk into
silence. Like
"The wise thrush, he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!" *
Moreover, these two poets, if I may be permitted
to call Carlyle a poet, taught the same truth. They
were both witnesses to the presence of God in the
spirit of man, and looked at this life in the light of
another and a higher; or rather, they penetrated
through the husk of time and saw that eternity is
even here, a tranquil element underlying the noisy
antagonisms of man's earthly life. Both of them,
like Plato's philosopher, made their home in the sun-
light of ideal truth: they were not denizens of the
cave taking the things of sense for those of thought,
shadows for realities, echoes for the voices of men.
But, while Carlyle fought his way into this region,
Browning found himself in it from the first; while
Carlyle bought his freedom with a great sum, the
poet "was free born." Carlyle saw the old world
* Home Thoughts from Abroad.
60
ROBERT BROWNING.
faith break up around him, and its fragments never
ceased to embarrass his path. He was at the point
of transition, present at the collision of the old and
new, and in the midst of the confusion. He, more
than any other English writer, was the instrument
of the change from the Deism of the eighteenth
century and the despair which followed it, into the
larger faith of our own. But, for Browning, there
was a new heaven and a new earth, and old things
had passed away. This notable contrast between
the two men, arising at once from their disposition
and their moral environment, had far-reaching effects
on their lives and their writings. But their affinity
was deeper than the difference, for they are essenti-
ally heirs and exponents of the same movement in
English thought.
The main characteristic of that movement is that
it is both moral and religious, a devotion to God
and the active service of man, a recognition at once
of the rights of nature and of spirit. It does not,
on the one hand, raise the individual as a natural
being to the throne of the universe, and make all
forces social, political, and spiritual stoop to his
rights; nor does it, on the other hand, deny these
ights, or make the individual a mere instrument
f society. It at least attempts to reconcile the
undamental facts of human nature, without com-
promising any of them. It cannot be called either
ndividualistic or socialistic; but it strives to be
1.
th at once, so that both man and society mean
re to this age than they ever did before. The
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
61
!
narrow formulae that cramped the thought of the
period which preceded ours have been broken
through. No one can pass from the hedonists and
individualists to Carlyle and Browning without feel-
ing that these two men are representatives of new
forces in politics, in religion, and in literature,-forces
which will undoubtedly effect momentous changes
before they are caught again and fixed in creeds.
That a new epoch in English thought was veritably
opened by them is indicated by the surprise and
bewilderment they occasioned at their first appear-
ance. Carlyle had Emerson to break his loneliness
and Browning had Rossetti; but, to most other men
at that day, Sartor and Pauline were all but unin-
telligible. The general English reader could make
little of the strange figures that had broken into.
the realm of literature; and the value and signifi-
cance of their work, as well as its originality, will be
recognized better by ourselves if we take a hurried
glance at the times which lay behind them. Its
main worth will be found to lie in the fact that they
strove to bring together again certain fundamental
elements, on which the moral life of man must
always rest, and which had fallen asunder in the
ages which preceded their own.
GRAN
The whole-hearted, instinctive life of the Eliza-
bethan age was narrowed and deepened into the
severe one-sidedness of Puritanism, which cast on
the bright earth the sombre shadow of a life to come.
England was given up for a time to a magnificent
half-truth. It did not
62
ROBERT BROWNING.
but
"Wait
The slow and sober uprise all around
O' the building,"
"Ran up right to roof
A sudden marvel, piece of perfectness."
After Puritanism came Charles the Second and
the rights of the flesh, which rights were gradually
clarified, till they contradicted themselves in the
benevolent self-seeking of altí istic hedonism. David
Hume led the world out of the shadow of eternity,
and showed that it was only an object of the five
senses; or of six, if we add that of "hunger." The
divine element was explained away, and the proper
study of mankind was, not man, as that age thought,
but man reduced to his beggarly elements-a being
animated solely by the sensuous springs of pleasure
and pain, which should properly, as Carlyle thought,
go on all fours, and not lay claim to the dignity of
being moral. All things were reduced to what they
seemed, robbed of their suggestiveness, changed into
definite, sharp-edged, mutually exclusive particulars.
The world was an aggregate.of isolated facts, or, at
he best, a mechanism into which particulars were
itted by force; and society was a gathering of mere
individuals, repelling each other by their needs and
greed, with a ring of natural necessity to bind them
together. It was a fit time for political economy to
supplant ethics. There was nowhere an ideal which
could lift man above his natural self, and teach him,
by losing it, to find a higher life. And, as a necessary
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
▸

HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY. 63
consequence, religion gaye way to naturalism and
poetry to prose.
MAGAN. 11-**
After this age of prose came our own day. The
new light first flushed the modern world in the
writings of the philosopher-poets of Germany: Kant
and Lessing, Fichte and Schiller, Goethe and Hegel.
They brought about the Copernican change. For
them this world of the five senses, of space and time
and natural cause, instead of being the fixed centre
around which all things revolved, was explicable
only in its relation to a system which was spiritual ;
and man found his meaning in his connection with
society, the life of which stretched endlessly far
back into the past and forward into the future.
Psychology gave way to metaphysics. The uni-
versal element in the thought of man was revealed.
Instead of mechanism there was life. A new spirit of
poetry and philosophy brought God back into the
world, revealed his incarnation in the mind of man,
and changed nature into a pellucid garment within
which throbbed the love divine. The antagonism of
hard alternatives was at an end; the universe was
spirit-woven and every smallest object was "filled
full of magical music, as they freight a star with
light." There were no longer two worlds, but one
for "the other" world penetrated this, and was re-
vealed in it thought and sense, spirit and nature
were reconciled. These thinkers made room for
man, as against the Puritans, and for God, as against
their successors. Instead of the hopeless struggle of
ascetic morality, which divides man against himself,
64
ROBERT BROWNING.
they awakened him to that sense of his reconcilia-
tion with his ideal which religion gives: "Psyche
drinks its stream and forgets her sorrows.
Now, this is just the soil where art blooms. For
what is beauty but the harmony of thought and sense,
a universal meaning caught and tamed in the par-
ticular? To the poet each little flower that blooms.
has endless worth, and is regarded as perfect and
complete; for he sees that the spirit of the whole
dwells in it. It whispers to him the mystery of the
infinite; it is a pulse in which beats the universal
heart. The true poet finds God everywhere; for
the ideal is actual wherever beauty dwells. And
there is the closest affinity between art and religion,
as its history proves, from Job and Isaiah, Homer
and Aeschylus, to our own poet; for both art and
religion lift us, each in its own way, above one-sided-
ness and limitation, to the region of the universal.
The one draws God to man, brings perfection here, and
reaches its highest form in the joyous life of Greece,
where the natural world was clothed with almost
supernatural beauty; the other lifts man to God, and
finds this life good because it reflects and suggests
the greater life that is to be. Both poetry and re-
ligion are a reconciliation and a satisfaction; both
lift man above the contradictions of limited exist-
ence, and place him in the region of peace—where,
"
"with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
He sees into the life of things." *
* Tintern Abbey.
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
65
In this sense, it will be always true of the poet,
as it is of the religious man, that
The beauty and the wonder and the power,
The shapes of things, their colours, lights and shades,
Changes, surprises,'
"the world,
"5
lead him back to God, who made it all.
He is essentially a witness to the divine element
in the world.
It is the rediscovery of this divine element, after :-
its expulsion by the age of Deism and doubt, that
has given to this century its poetic grandeur.
Unless we regard Burke as the herald of the new
era, we may say that England first felt the breath
of the returning spirit in the poems of Shelley and
Wordsworth.
"The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light for ever shines, earth's shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of eternity,
Until death tramples it to fragments." +
"And I have felt," says Wordsworth,
r
"A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man :
A motion and a spirit, that impels
* Fra Lippo Lippi.
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things." ‡
† Adonais.
Tintern Abbey.
3
66
ROBERT BROWNING.
Such notes as these could not be struck by Pope,
nor be understood by the age of prose.
Still they
are only the prelude of the fuller song of Browning.
Whether he be a greater poet than these or not,-
a question whose answer can benefit nothing, for
each poet has his own worth, and reflects by his
own facet the universal truth-his poetry contains
in it larger elements, and the promise of a deeper
harmony from the harsher discords of his more
stubborn material. Even where their spheres touch,
Browning held by the artistic truth in a different
manner. To Shelley, perhaps the most intensely
spiritual of all our poets,
"That light whose smile kindles the universe,
That beauty in which all things work and move,”
""
was an impassioned sentiment, a glorious intoxica-
tion; to Browning it was a conviction, reasoned and
willed, possessing the whole man, and held in the
sober moments when the heart is silent.
"The
heavy and the weary weight of all this unintelligible
world" was lightened for Wordsworth, only when
he was far from the haunts of men, and free from
the dreary intercourse of daily life"; but Browning
weaved his song of hope right amidst the wail and
woe of man's sin and wretchedness. For Words-
worth "sensations sweet, felt in the blood and felt
along the heart, passed into his purer mind with
tranquil restoration," and issued "in a serene and
blessed mood"; but Browning's poetry is not
merely the poetry of the emotions however subli-
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY. 67
5
mated. He starts with the hard repellent fact,
crushes by sheer force of thought its stubborn rind,
presses into it, and brings forth the truth at its
heart. The greatness of Browning's poetry is in
its perceptive grip: and in nothing is he more
original than in the manner in which he takes up
his task, and assumes his artistic function. In his
postponement of feeling to thought we recognize
a new poetic method, the significance of which we
cannot estimate as yet. But, although we may
fail to apprehend the meaning of the new method
he employs, we cannot fail to perceive the fact,
which is not less striking, that the region from
which he quarries his material is new.
And yet he does not break away abruptly from
his predecessors. His kinship with them, in that
he recognizes the presence of God in nature, is
everywhere evident. We quote one passage,
scarcely to be surpassed by any of our poets, as
indicative of his power of dealing with the super-
naturalism of nature.
.
"The centre-fire heaves underneath the earth,
And the earth changes like a human face;
The molten ore burst up among the rocks,
Winds into the stone's heart, outbranches bright
In hidden mines, spots barren river-beds,
Crumbles into fine sand where sunbeams bask-
God joys therein. The wroth sea's waves are edged
With foam, white as the bitter lip of hate,
When, in the solitary waste, strange groups
Of young volcanos come up, cyclops-like,
Staring together with their eyes on flame-
God tastes a pleasure in their uncouth pride.
Then all is still; earth is a wintry clod:
68
ROBERT BROWNING.
But spring-wind, like a dancing psaltress, passes
Over its breast to waken it, rare verdure
Buds tenderly upon rough banks, between
The withered tree-roots and the cracks of frost,
Like a smile striving with a wrinkled face.
Above, birds fly in merry flocks, the lark
Soars up and up, shivering for very joy;
Afar the ocean sleeps; white fishing gulls
Flit where the strand is purple with its tribe
Of nested limpets; savage creatures seek
Their loves in wood and plain-and God renews
His ancient rapture. Thus He dwells in all,
From life's minute beginnings, up at last
To man-the consummation of this scheme
Of being, the completion of this sphere of life.”
*
Such passages as these contain neither the rapt,
reflective calm of Wordsworth's solemn tones, nor
the ethereal intoxication of Shelley's spirit-music;
but there is in them the same consciousness of the
infinite meaning of natural facts. And beyond this,
there is also, in the closing lines, a hint of a new
region for art. Shelley and Wordsworth were the
poets of Nature, as all truly say; Browning was
the poet of the human soul. For Shelley, the
beauty in which all things work and move was
well-nigh "quenched by the eclipsing curse of the
birth of man"; and Wordsworth lived beneath the
habitual sway of fountains, meadows, hills and
groves, while he kept grave watch o'er man's
mortality, and saw the shades of the prison-house
gather round him. From the life of man they
garnered nought but mad indignation, or mellowed
sadness. It was a foolish and furious strife with
*Paracelsus.
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HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
69
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unknown powers fought in the dark, from which
the poet kept aloof, for he could not see that God
dwelt amidst the chaos. But Browning found
harmony in immortal souls, spite of the muddy
vesture of decay." He found nature crowned in
man, though man was mean and miserable. At
the heart of the most wretched abortion of wicked-
ness there was the mark of the loving touch of God.
Shelley turned away from man; Wordsworth paid
him rare visits, like those of a being from a strange
world, made wise and sad with looking at him from
afar; Browning dwelt with him. He was a com-
rade in the fight, and ever in the van of man's
endeavour bidding him be of good cheer.
He was
a witness for God in the midmost dark, where meet
in deathless struggle the elemental powers of right
and wrong. For God is present for him, not only
in the order and beauty of nature, but in the world
of will and thought. Beneath the caprice and
wilful lawlessness of individual action, he saw a
beneficent purpose which cannot fail, but ' has
its way with man, not he with it.”
"C

CC
Now this was a new world for poetry to enter
into; a new depth to penetrate with hope; and
Browning was the first of modern poets to
"Stoop
Into the vast and unexplored abyss,
Strenuously beating
The silent boundless regions of the sky."
It is also a new world for religion and morality ;
*
ROBERT BROWNING.
70
and to understand it demands a deeper insight into
the fundamental elements of human life.
I To show this in a proximately adequate manner,
we should be obliged, as already hinted, to connect
the poet's work, not merely with that of his English
predecessors, but with the deeper and more compre-
hensive movement of the thought of Germany
since the time of Kant. It would be necessary to
indicate how, by breaking a way through the narrow
creeds and equally narrow scepticism of the previous
age, the new spirit extended the horizon of man's
active and contemplative life, and made him free
of the universe, and the repository of the past
conquests of his race. It proposed to man the great
task of solving the problem of humanity, but it
strengthened him with its past achievement, and
inspired him with the conviction of its boundless
progress. It is not that the significance of the
individual or the meaning of his endeavour is lost.
Under this new view, man has still to fight for his
own hand, and it is still recognized that spirit is
always burdened with its own fate and cannot share
its responsibility. Morality does not give way to
religion or pass into it, and there is a sense in which
the individual is always alone in the sphere of duty.
But from this new point of view the individual is
re-explained for us, and we begin to understand
that he is the focus of a light which is universal,
one more incarnation of the mind of God." His
moral task is no longer to seek his own in the old
sense, but to elevate humanity; for it is only by
CC
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
71
taking this circuit that he can come to his own.
Such a task as this is a sufficiently great one to
occupy all time; but it is to humanity in him that
the task belongs, and it will therefore be achieved.
This is no new one-sidedness. It does not mean,
to those who comprehend it, the supplanting of the
individual thought by the collective thought, or
the substitution of humanity for man. The uni-
versal is in the particular, the fact is the law.
There is no collision between the whole and the
part, for the whole lives in the part. As each
individual plant has its own life and beauty and
worth, although the universe has conspired to bring
it into being; so also, and in a far higher degree,
man has his own duty and his own dignity, although
he is but the embodiment of forces, natural and
spiritual, which have come from the endless past.
Like a letter in a word, or a word in a sentence,
he gets his meaning from his context; but the sen-
tence is meaningless without him. "Rays from all
round converge in him," and he has no power ex-
cept that which has been lent to him; but all the
same, nay, all the more, he must
"Think as if man never thought before!
Act as if all creation hung attent
On the acting of such faculty as his." *
His responsibility, his individuality, is not less, but
greater, in that he can, in his thought and moral
action, command the forces that the race has stored
for him. The great man speaks the thought of his
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
72
ROBERT BROWNING.
people, and his invocations as their priest are just
the expression of their dumb yearnings. And even
the mean and insignificant man is what he is, in
virtue of the humanity which is blurred and dis-
torted within him; and he can shed his insignificance
and meanness, only by becoming a truer vehicle for
that humanity.
Thus, when spirit is spiritually discerned, it is seen
that man is bound to man in a union closer than
any physical organism can show; while "the indi-
vidual," in the old sense of a being opposed to society
and opposed to the world, is found to be a fiction
of abstract thought, not discoverable anywhere, be-
cause not real. And, on the other hand, society is no
longer "collective," but so organic that the whole is
potentially in every part—an organism of organisms.
The influence of this organic idea in every depart-
ment of thought which concerns itself with man is
not to be measured. It is already fast changing
all the practical sciences of man-economics, politics,
ethics and religion. The material, being newly in-
terpreted, is wrought into a new purpose, and
revelation is once more bringing about a reforma-
tion. But human action in its ethical aspect is,
above all, charged with a new significance. The
idea of duty has received an expansion almost
illimitable, and man himself has thereby attained
new worth and dignity-for what is duty except a
dignity and opportunity, man's chance of being
good? When we contrast this view of the life of
man as the life of humanity in him, with the old
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
73
}
individualism,, we may say that morality also has
at last, in Bacon's phrase, passed from the narrow
seas into the open ocean.
And after all, the greatest,
achievement of our age may be not that it has
established the sciences of nature, but that it has
made possible the science of man. We have, at
length, reached a point of view from which we
may hope to understand ourselves. Law, order,
continuity, in human action-the essential pre-
conditions of a moral science-were beyond the
reach of an individualistic theory. It left to
ethical writers no choice but that of either sacrificing
man to law, or law to man; of denying either the
particular or the universal element in his nature.
Naturalism did the first. Intuitionism, the second.
The former made human action the reaction of a
natural agent on the incitement of natural forces.
It made man a mere object, a thing capable of being
affected by other things through his faculty of being
pained or pleased; an object acting in obedience
to motives that had an external origin, just like
any other object. The latter theory cut man free
from the world and his fellows, endowed him with
a will that had no law, and a conscience that was
dogmatic; and thereby succeeded in stultifying
both law and morality.
Į
•
But this new consciousness of the relation of man to
mankind and the world takes him out of his isola-
tion and still leaves him free. It relates men to one
another in a humanity, which is incarnated anew in
each of them. It elevates the individual above the
74
ROBERT BROWNING.
distinctions of time; it treasures up the past in him
as the active energy of his knowledge and morality
in the present, and also as the potency of the ideal
life of the future. On this view, the individual and
the race are possible only through each other.
This fundamental change in our way of looking
at the life of man is bound to abolish the ancient
landmarks and bring confusion for a time. Out of
the new conception, i.e., out of the idea of evolution,
has sprung the tumult as well as the strength of our
time. The present age is moved with thoughts
beyond the reach of its powers: great aspirations
for the well-being of the people and high ideals of
social welfare flash across its mind, to be followed
again by thicker darkness. There is hardly any
limit to its despair or hope. It has a far larger
faith in the destiny of man than any of its prede-
cessors, and yet it is sure of hardly anything-
except that the ancient rules of human life are false.
Individualism is now detected as scepticism and
moral chaos in disguise. We know that the old
methods are no longer of use. We cannot now cut
ourselves free of the fate of others. The confused
cries for help that are heard on every hand are
recognized as the voices of our brethren; and we
now know that our fate is involved in theirs, and
that the problem of their welfare is also ours. We
grapple with social questions at last, and recognize
that the issues of life and death lie in the solution of
these enigmas. Legislators and economists, teachers
of religion and socia'ists, are all alike social reformers.

W
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
75
Philanthropy has taken a deeper meaning; and all
sects bear its banner. But their forces are beaten
back by the social wretchedness, for they have not
found the sovereign remedy of a great idea; and
the result is in many ways sad enough. Our social
remedies often work mischief; for we degrade those
whom we would elevate, and in our charity forget
justice. We insist on the rights of the people and
the duties of the privileged classes, and thereby
tend to teach greed to those for whom we labour,
and goodness to those whom we condemn. The task
that lies before us is plain: we want the welfare
of the people as a whole. But we fail to grasp the
complex social elements together, and our very
remedies tend to sunder them. We know that the
public good will not be obtained by separating man.
from man, securing each unit in a charmed circle
of personal rights, and protecting it from others
by isolation. We must find a place for the indivi-
dual within the social organism, and we know now
that this organism has not, as our fathers seemed
to think, the simple constitution of a wooden doll.
Society is not put together mechanically, and the
individual cannot be outwardly attached to it, if he
is to be helped, He must rather share its life, be
the heir of the wealth it has garnered for him in the
past, and participate in its onward movement.
Between this new social ideal and our attainment,
between the magnitude of our social duties and the
resources of intellect and will at our command, there
lies a chasm which we despair of bridging over.
76
ROBERT BROWNING.
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***** $21.
The characteristics of this epoch faithfully reflect
themselves in the pages of Carlyle, with whose
thoughts those of Browning are immediately con-
nected. It was Carlyle who first effectively revealed
to England the continuity of human life, and the
magnitude of the issues of individual action. Seeing
the infinite in the finite, living under a continued
sense of the mystery that surrounds man, he flung
explosive negations amidst the narrow formulae of
the social and religious orthodoxy of his day, blew
down the blinding walls of ethical individualism,
and, amidst much smoke and din, showed his
English readers something of the greatness of the
moral world. He gave us a philosophy of clothes,
penetrated through symbols to the immortal ideas,
condemned all shibboleths, and revealed the soul of
humanity behind the external modes of man's
activity. He showed us, in a word, that the world
is spiritual, that loyalty to duty is the foundation
of all human good, and that national welfare rests.
on character. After reading him, it is impossible
for any one who reflects on the nature of duty to
ask, “Am I my brother's keeper?" He not only
imagined, but knew, how "all things the minutest
that man does, minutely influence all men, and the
very look of his face blesses or curses whom-so it
lights on, and so generates ever new blessing or new
cursing. I say, there is not a Red Indian, hunting
by Lake Winnipeg, can quarrel with his squaw,
but the whole world must smart for it: will not the
price of beaver rise? It is a mathematical fact

HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
77
that the casting of this pebble from my hand alters
the centre of gravity of the universe." Carlyle
dealt the deathblow to the "laissez-faire" theory
rampant in his day, and made each individual
responsible for the race. He has demonstrated that
the sphere of duty does not terminate with ourselves
and our next-door neighbours. There will be no
pure air for the correctest Levite to breathe, till
the laws of sanitation have been applied to the
moral slums. Ye are my brethren," said he, and
he adds, as if conscious of his too denunciatory
way of dealing with them, "hence my rage and
sorrow."
But his consciousness of brotherhood with all men
brought only despair for him. He saw clearly the
responsibility of man, but not the dignity which that
implies; he felt the weight of the burden of humanity
upon his own soul, and it crushed him, for he forgot
that all the good of the world was there to help him
bear it, and that " One with God is a majority." He
taught only the half-truth, that all men are united
on the side of duty, and that the spiritual life of
each is conditional on striving to save all. But he
neglected the complement of this truth, and forgot
the greatness of the beings on whom so great a duty
could be laid. He therefore dignifies humanity only
to degrade it again. The "twenty millions" each
must try to save are mostly fools. But how fools,
when they can have such a task? Is it not true,
on the contrary, that no man ever saw a duty
beyond his strength, and that "man can because he
"
78
ROBERT BROWNING.
""
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ought" and ought only because he can? The evils
an individual cannot overcome are the moral
opportunities of his fellows. The good are not lone
workers of God's purposes, and there is no need of
despair. Carlyle, like the ancient prophet, was too
conscious of his own mission, and too forgetful of
that of others. I have been very jealous for the
Lord God of hosts; because the children of Israel
have forgotten Thy covenant, thrown down Thine
alters, and slain Thy prophets, and I, even I only,
am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.
He needed, beside the consciousness of his prophetic
function, a consciousness of brotherhood with
humbler workers. Yet I have left Me seven
thousand in Israel, all the knees which have not
bowed unto Baal, and every mouth which hath not
kissed him." It would have helped him had he
remembered, that there were on all sides other
workers engaged on the temple not made with
hands, although he could not hear the sound of their
hammers for the din he made himself. It would
have changed his despair into joy, and his pity
into a higher moral quality, had he been able to
believe that, amidst all the millions against whom
he hurled his anathemas, there is no one who, let
him do what he will, is not constrained to illustrate
either the folly and wretchedness of sin, or the
glory of goodness. It is not given to any one, least
of all to the wicked, to hold back the onward move-
ment of the race, or to destroy the impulse for
good which is planted within it.
3
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
79
But Carlyle saw only one side of the truth about
man's moral nature and destiny. He knew, as the
ancient prophets did, that evil is potential wreck;
and he taxed the power of metaphor to the utmost
to indicate, how wrong gradually takes root, and
ripens into putrescence and self-combustion, in
obedience to a necessity which is absolute. That
morality is the essence of things, that wrong must
prove its weakness, that right is the only might,
is reiterated and illustrated on all his pages; they
are now commonplaces of speculation on matters
of history, if not conscious practical principles
which guide its makers. But Carlyle never inquired
into the character of this moral necessity, and he
overlooked the beneficence which places death at
the heart of sin. He never saw wrong except on its
way to execution, or in the death throes; but he
did not look in the face of the gentle power that led
it on to death. He saw the necessity which rules
history, but not the beneficent character of that
necessity.
The same limitations marred his view of duty,
which was his greatest revelation to his age. He
felt its categorical authority and its binding force.
But the power which imposed the duty was an
alien power, awful in majesty, infinite in might,
a "great task-master"; and the duty itself was an
outer law, written in letters of flame across the high
heavens, in comparison with which man's action at
its best sank into failure. His only virtue is obedi-
ence, and his last rendering even of himself is
80
ROBERT BROWNING.
"unprofitable servant." In this he has much of the
combined strength and weakness of the old Scottish
Calvinism. "He stands between the individual and
the Infinite without hope or guide. He has a
constant disposition to crush the human being by
comparing him with God," said Mazzini, with marvel-
lous penetration. "From his lips, at times so daring,
we seem to hear every instant the cry of the Breton
Mariner' My God protect me! My bark is so small,
and Thy ocean so vast.' His reconciliation of God
and man was incomplete: God seemed to him to
have manifested Himself to man but not in man.
He did not see that "the Eternity which is before
and behind us is also within us.”
"""
But the moral law which commands is just the
reflection of the aspirations of progressive man, who
always creates his own horizon. The extension of
duty is the objective counterpart of man's growth; a
proof of victory and not of failure, a sign that man
is mounting upwards. And, if so, it is irrational to
infer the impossibility of success from the magnitude
of the demands of a moral law, which is itself the
promise of a better future. The hard problems set
for us by our social environment are recognized as
set by ourselves; for, in matters of morality, the eye
sees only what the heart prompts. The very state-
ment of the difficulty contains the potency of its
solution; for evil, when understood, is on the way
towards being overcome, and the good, when seen,
contains the promise of its own fulfilment. It is
ignorance which is ruinous, as when the cries of
HIS PLACE IN ENGLISH POETRY.
81
humanity beat against a deaf ear; and we can take
a comfort, denied to Carlyle, from the fact that he has
made us awake to our social duties. He has let loose
the confusion upon us, and it is only natural that
we should at first be overcome by a sense of be-
wildered helplessness. But this very sense contains
the germ of hope, and England is struggling to its
feet to wrestle with its wrongs. Carlyle has brought
us within sight of our future, and we are now taking
a step into it. He has been our guide in the wilder-
ness; but he died there, and was denied the view
from Pisgah.
Now, this view was given to Robert Browning, and
he broke out into a song of victory, whose strains
will give strength and comfort to many in the coming
time. That his solution of the evils of life is not
final, may at once be admitted. There are elements
in the problem of which he has taken no account,
and which will force those who seek light on the
deeper mysteries of man's moral nature, to go beyond
anything that the poet has to say. Even the poet
himself grows, at least in some directions, less con-
fident of the completeness of his triumph as he grows
older. His faith in the good does not fail, but it
is the faith of one who confesses to ignorance, and
links himself to his finitude. Still, so thorough is
his conviction of the moral purpose of life, of the
certainty of the good towards which man is moving,
and of the beneficence of the power which is at
work everywhere in the world, that many of his
poems ring like the triumphant songs of Luther.
•
I
CHAPTER IV.
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
"Gladness be with thee, Helper of the World!
I think this is the authentic sign and seal
Of Godship, that it ever waxes glad,
And more glad, until gladness blossoms, bursts
Into a rage to suffer for mankind,
And recommence at sorrow." *
I
HAVE tried to show that one of the distinctive
features of the present era is the stress it lays
on the worth of the moral life of man, and the new
significance it has given to that life by its view of
the continuity of history. This view finds expres-
sion, on its social and ethical side, in the pages of
Carlyle and Browning: both of whom are interested
exclusively, one may almost say, in the evolution
of human character; and both of whom, too, regard
that evolution as the realization by man of the
purposes, greater than man's, which rule in the
world. And, although neither of them developed the
organic view of humanity, which is implied in their
doctrines, into an explicit philosophy, still the moral
life of the individual is for each of them the infinite
life in the finite. The meaning of the universe is
* Balaustion's Adventure.
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
83
moral, its last might is rightness; and the task of
man is to catch up that meaning, convert it into his
own motive, and thereby make it the source of his
actions, the inmost principle of his life. This, fully
grasped, will bring the finite and the infinite, morality
and religion, together, and reconcile them.
But the reconciliation which Carlyle sought to
effect was incomplete on every side-even within the
sphere of duty, with which alone, as moralist, he
specially concerned himself. The moral law was
imposed upon man by a higher power, in the pres-
ence of whom man was awed and crushed; for that
power had stinted man's endowment, and set him to
fight a hopeless battle against endless evil. God was
everywhere around man, and the universe was just
the expression of His will-a will inexorably bent on
the good, so that evil could not prevail; but God was
not within man, except as a voice of conscience
issuing imperatives and threats. An infinite duty
was laid upon a finite being, and its weight made
him break out into a cry of despair.
Browning, however, not only sought to bring about
the reconciliation, but succeeded, in so far as that
is possible in terms of mere feeling. His poetry
contains suggestions that the moral will without is
also a force within man; that the power which makes
for righteousness in the world has penetrated into,
or rather manifests itself as, man. Intelligence and
will, the reason which apprehends the nature of
things, and the original impulse of self-conscious life
which issues in action, are God's power in man;
V
84
ROBERT BROWNING.
so that God is realizing Himself in the deeds of
man, and human history is just His return to Himself.
Outer law and inner motive are, for the poet, mani-
festations of the same beneficent purpose; and instead
of duty in the sense of an autocratic imperative, or
beneficent tyranny, he finds, deep beneath man's
foolishness and sin, a constant tendency towards the
good which is bound up with the very nature of
man's reason and will. If man could only under-
stand himself he would find without him no limiting
necessity, but the manifestation of a law which is one
with his own essential being. A beneficent power
has loaded the dice, according to the epigram, so
that the chances of failure and victory are not even ;
for man's nature is itself a divine endowment, one
with the power that rules his life, and man must
finally reach through error to truth, and through sin
to holiness. In the language of theology, it may be
said that the moral process is the spiritual incarna-
tion of God; it is God's goodness as love, effecting
itself in human action. Hence Carlyle's cry of des-
pair is turned by Browning into a song of victory.
While the former regards the struggle between good
and evil as a fixed battle, in which the forces are
immovably interlocked, the latter has the conscious-
ness of battling against a retreating foe; and the
conviction of coming triumph gives joyous vigour to
every stroke. Browning lifted morality into an
optimism, and translated its battle into song. This
was the distinctive mark and mission which give to
him such power of moral inspiration.
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
85
In order, however, to estimate the value of this
feature of the poet's work, it is necessary to look
more closely into the character of his faith in the
good. Merely to attribute to him an optimistic
creed is to say very little; for the worth, or
worthlessness, of such a creed depends upon its
content upon its fidelity to the facts of human
life, the clearness of its consciousness of the evils
it confronts, and the intensity of its realism.
There is a sense, and that a true one, in which
it may be said that all men are optimists; for
such a faith is implied in every conscious and delib-
erate action of man. There is no deed which is
not an attempt to realize an ideal; whenever man
acts he seeks a good, however ruinously he may
misunderstand its nature. Final and absolute dis-
belief in an ultimate good in the sphere of morals, like
absolute scepticism in the sphere of knowledge,
is a disguised self-contradiction, and therefore an
impossibility in fact. The one stultifies action,
and asserts an effect without any cause, or even
contrary to the cause; the other stultifies intellectual
activity and both views imply that the critic has
so escaped the conditions of human life, as to be able
to pass a condemnatory judgment upon them. The
belief that a harmonious relation between the self-
conscious agent and the supreme good is possible,
underlies the practical activity of man; just as the
belief in the unity of thought and being underlies his
intellectual activity. A moral order—that is, an
order of rational ends—is postulated in all human
86
ROBERT BROWNING.
actions, and we act at all only in virtue of it,—just
as truly as we move and work only in virtue of the
forces which make the spheres revolve, or think
by help of the meaning which presses upon us
from the thought-woven world, through all the
pores of sense. A true ethics, like a true psy-
chology, or a true science of nature, must lean
upon metaphysics, and it cannot pretend to start
ab initio. We live in the Copernican age, which
puts the individual in a system, in obedience to
whose laws he finds his welfare. And this is
simply the assertion of an optimistic creed, for
it implies a harmonious world.
But, though this is true, it must be remembered
that this faith is a prophetic anticipation, rather
than acquired knowledge. We are only on the
way towards reconstructing in thought the fact
which we are, or towards bringing into clear know-
ledge the elemental power which manifests itself
within us as thought, desire, and deed. And, until
this is achieved, we have no full right to an op-
timistic creed. The revelation of the unity which
pervades all things, even in the natural world, will
be the last attainment of science; and the recon-
ciliation of nature and man and God is still further
in the future, and will be the last triumph of
philosophy. During all the interval the world will
be a scene of warring elements; and poetry, religion,
and philosophy can only hold forth a promise, and
give to man a foretaste of ultimate victory. And
in this state of things even their assurance often
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
87
falters. Faith lapses into doubt, poetry becomes
a wail for a lost god, and its votary exhibits,
"through Europe to the Ætolian shore, the pageant
of his bleeding heart." The optimistic faith is, as a
rule, only a hope and a desire, a "Grand Perhaps,"
which knows no defence against the critical under-
standing, and sinks dumb when questioned. If, in
the form of a religious conviction, its assurance is
more confident, then, too often, it rests upon the
treacherous foundations of authoritative ignorance,
which crumble into dust beneath the blows of
awakened and liberated reason. Nay, if by the
aid of philosophy we turn our optimism into a
faith held by reason, a fact before which the in-
tellect, as well as the heart, worships and grows
glad, it still is for most of us only a general hypo-
thesis, a mere leap to God which spurns the inter-
mediate steps, a universal without content, a bare
form that lacks reality.
Such an optimism, such a plunge into the pure
blue and away from facts, was Emerson's. Caroline
Fox tells a story of him and Carlyle which reveals
this very pointedly. It seems that Carlyle once
led the serene philosopher through the abomina-
tions of the streets of London at midnight, asking
him with grim humour at every few steps, "Do
you believe in the devil now?" Emerson replied that
the more he saw of the English people the greater
and better he thought them. This little incident
lays bare the limits of both these great men.
Where the one saw, the other was blind. To the
88
ROBERT BROWNING.
*
one there was the misery and the universal mirk;
to the other, the pure white beam was scarcely
broken. Carlyle believed in the good, beyond all
doubt he fought his great battle in its strength
and won, but "he was sorely wounded." Emerson
was Sir Galahad, blind to all but the Holy Grail,
his armour spotless-white, his virtue cloistered and
unbreathed, his race won without the dust and
heat. But his optimism was too easy to be satis-
factory. His victory was not won in the enemy's
citadel, where sin sits throned amidst the chaos,
but in the placid upper air of poetic imagination.
And, in consequence, Emerson can only convince the
converted; and his song is not heard in the dark,
nor does it cheer the wayfarer on the muddy high-
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way, along which burthened humanity meanly toils.
But Browning's optimism is more earnest and
real than any pious hope, or dogmatic belief, or
benevolent theory held by a placid philosopher,
protected against contact with the sins and sorrows
of man as by an invisible garment of contemplative
holiness. It is a conviction which has sustained
shocks of criticism and the test of facts; and it
therefore, both for the poet and his readers, fulfils
a mission beyond the reach of any easy trust、 in
a mystic good. Its power will be felt and its
value recognized by those who have themselves
confronted the contradictions of human life and
known their depths.
No lover of Browning's poetry can miss the
vigorous manliness of the poet's own bearing, or fail
- سا
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
89
to recognize the strength that flows from his joy-
ous, fearless personality, and the might of his
intellect and heart. "When British literature," said
Carlyle of Scott and Cobbett, "lay all puking and
sprawling in Wertherism, Byronism and other Senti-
mentalisms, nature was kind enough to send us
two healthy men.” And he breaks out into a
eulogy of mere health, of "the just balance of
faculties that radiates a glad light outwards, en-
lightening and embellishing all things." But he
finds it easy to account for the health of these
men: they had never faced the mystery of exist-
ence. Such healthiness we find in Browning, al-
though he wrote with Carlyle at his side, and
within earshot of the infinite wail of this moral
fatalist. And yet, the word health is inadequate to
convey the depth of the joyous meaning which the
poet found in the world. His optimism was not
a constitutional and irreflective hopefulness, to be
accounted for on the ground that "the great
mystery of existence was not great to him: did not
drive him into rocky solitudes to wrestle with it
for an answer, to be answered or to perish." There
are, indeed, certain rash and foolish persons who
pretend to trace Browning's optimism to his mixed
descent; but there is a "pause in the leading and
the light" of those wiseacres, who pretend to trace
moral and mental characteristics to physiological
antecedents. They cannot quite catch a great man
in the making, nor, even by the help of evolution,
say anything wiser about genius than that "the
-
90
ROBERT BROWNING.
wind bloweth where it listeth." No doubt the
poet's optimism indicates a native sturdiness of
head and heart. He had the invaluable endow-
ment of a pre-disposition to see the sunny side
of life, and a native tendency to revolt against
that subjectivity, which is the root of our misery
in all its forms. He had little respect for the
Welt-schmerz, and can scarcely be civil to the hero
of the bleeding heart.
CC
(6
Sinning, sorrowing, despairing,
Body-ruined, spirit-wrecked-
Should I give my woes an airing,—
Where's one plague that claims respect ?
G
Have you
found your life distasteful?
My life did, and does, smack sweet.
Was your youth of pleasure wasteful?
Mine I saved and hold complete.
Do your joys with age diminish ?
When mine fail me I'll complain.
Must in death your daylight finish?
My sun sets to rise again.
"I find earth not grey but rosy,
Heaven not grim but fair of hue.
Do I stoop? I pluck a posy.
Do I stand and stare? All's blue." *
Browning was no doubt least of all men inclined to
pout at his "plain bun"; on the contrary, he was
awake to the grandeur of his inheritance, and valued
most highly" his life-rent of God's universe with the
tasks it offered and the tools to do them with." But
his optimism sent its roots deeper than any "disposi-
tion"; it penetrated beyond mere health of body and
* At the Mermaid,
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
91
mind, as it did beyond a mere sentiment of God's
goodness. Optimisms resting on these bases are
always weak; for the former leaves man naked and
sensitive to the evils that crowd round him when
the powers of body and mind decay, and the latter
is, at best, useful only for the individual who possesses
it, and it breaks down under the stress of criticism
and doubt. Browning's optimism is a great element
in English literature, because it opposes with such
strength the shocks that come from both these
quarters. His joyousness is the reflection in feeling
of a conviction as to the nature of things, which he
had verified in the darkest details of human life,
and established for himself in the face of the
gravest objections that his intellect was able to call
forth. In fact, its value lies, above all, in this, that
it comes after criticism, after the condemnation
which Byron and Carlyle had passed, each from his
own point of view, on the world and on man.
The need of an optimism is one of the penalties
which reflection brings. Natural life takes the
goodness of things for granted; but reflection dis-
turbs the placid contentment and sets man at
variance with his world. The fruit of the tree of
knowledge always reveals his nakedness to man; he
is turned out of the paradise of unconsciousness and
doomed to force Nature, now conceived as a step-
dame, to satisfy needs which are now first felt.
Optimism is the expression of man's new recon-
ciliation with his world; as the opposite doctrine of
pessimism is the consciousness of an unresolved con-

92
ROBERT BROWNING.
*
tradiction. Both are a judgment passed upon the
world, from the point of view of its adequacy or
inadequacy to meet demands, arising from needs
which the individual has discovered in himself.
*** KAT
*644
(C
Now, as I have tried to show, one of the main
characteristics of the opening years of the present
era was its deeper intuition of the significance of
human life, and, therefore, by implication, of its
wants and claims. The spiritual nature of man,
lost sight of during the preceding age, was re-dis-
covered; and the first and immediate consequence
was that man, as man, attained infinite worth.
Man was born free," cried Rousseau, with a con-
viction which swept all before it ; "he has original,
inalienable, and supreme rights against all things
which can set themselves against him." And
Rousseau's countrymen believed him. There was
not a Sans-culotte amongst them all but held his head
high, being creation's lord; and history can scarcely
show a parallel to their great burst of joy and hope,
as they ran riot in their new-found inheritance, from
which they had so long been excluded. They flung
themselves upon the world, as if they would "glut
their sense
upon it.
>>
66
..
Expend
Eternity upon its shows,
Flung them as freely as one rose
Out of a summer's opulence." *
But the very discovery that man is spirit, which
is the source of all his rights, is also an implicit
*Easter Day.
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
93
discovery that he has outgrown the resources of the
natural world. The infinite hunger of a soul cannot
be satisfied with the things of sense. The natural
world is too limited even for Carlyle's shoe-black;
nor is it surprising that Byron should find it a waste,
and dolefully proclaim his disappointment to much-
admiring mankind. Now, both Carlyle and Brown-
ing apprehended the cause of the discontent, and
both endured the Byronic utterance of it with
considerable impatience. "Art thou nothing other
than a vulture, then," asks the former, "that fliest
through the universe seeking after somewhat to
eat, and shrieking dolefully because carrion enough
is not given thee? Close thy Byron, open thy
Goethe.'
"}
.، Huntsman Common Sense
Came to the rescue, bade prompt thwack of thong dispense
Quiet i' the kennel: taught that ocean might be blue,
And rolling and much more, and yet the soul have, too,
Its touch of God's own flame, which He may so expand
'Who measurèd the waters i' the hollow of His hand
That ocean's self shall dry, turn dew-drop in respect
Of all-triumphant fire, matter with intellect
Once fairly matched.” *
But Carlyle was always more able to detect the
disease than to suggest the remedy. He had, indeed,
“a glimpse of it.” There is in man a Higher than
love of Happiness: he can do without Happiness,
and instead thereof find Blessedness." But the
glimpse was misleading, for it penetrated no further
than the first negative step. The "Everlasting
Yea" was, after all, only a deeper "No!" only
*Fifine at the Fair, lxvii.
Cc.
— *
94
ROBERT BROWNING.
•
Entsagung, renunciation: "the fraction of life
can be increased in value not so much by increasing
your numerator as by lessening your denominator."
Blessed alone is he that expecteth nothing. The
holy of holies, where man hears whispered the
mystery of life, is "the sanctuary of sorrow."
"What Act of Legislature was there that thou
shouldst be Happy? A little while ago thou hadst
no right to be at all. What if thou wert born and
predestined not to be Happy, but to be Unhappy?
Nay, is not 'life itself a disease, knowledge the
symptom of derangement'? Have not the poets
sung Hymns to the Night' as if Night were nobler
than Day; as if Day were but a small motley-
coloured veil spread transiently over the infinite
bosom of Night, and did but deform and hide from
us its pure transparent eternal deeps." "We,
the whole species of Mankind, and our whole exist-
ence and history, are but a floating speck in the
illimitable ocean of the All borne this way and
that way by its deep-swelling tides, and grand
ocean currents, of which what faintest chance is
there that we should ever exhaust the significance,
ascertain the goings and comings? A region of
Doubt, therefore, hovers for ever in the back-
ground. Only on a canvas of Darkness, such
is man's way of being, could the many-coloured
picture of our Life paint itself and shine."
In such passages as these, there is far deeper
pessimism than in anything which Byron could
experience or express. Scepticism is directed by
•
-
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
95
Carlyle, not against the natural elements of life-
'
AS A LA LAE TE *
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the mere sensuous outworks, but against the citadel
of thought itself. Self-consciousness, or the reflect-
ing interpretation by man of himself and his world,
the very activity that lifts him above animal exist-
ence and makes him man, instead of being a divine
endowment, is declared to be a disease, a poisonous
subjectivity destructive of all good. The discovery
that man is spirit and no vulture, which was due
to Carlyle himself more than to any other English
writer of his age, seemed, after all, to be a great
calamity; for it led to the renunciation of happiness,
and filled man with yearnings after a better than
happiness, but left him nothing wherewith they
might be satisfied, except "the duty next to hand."
And the duty next to hand, as interpreted by Carlyle,
is a means of suppressing by action, not idle speech
only, but thought itself. But, if this be true, the
highest in man is set against itself. And what kind
of action remains possible to a "speck on the illimit-
able ocean, borne this way and that way by its deep-
swelling tides"? Here on earth we are soldiers,
fighting in a foreign land; that understand not the
plan of the campaign, and have no need to under-
stand it, seeing what is at our hand to be done."
But there is one element of still deeper gloom in
this blind fighting; it is fought for a foreign cause.
It is God's cause and not ours, or ours only in so
far as it has been despotically imposed upon us;
and it is hard to discover from Carlyle what interest
we can have in the victory. Duty is to him a
66
S
96
ROBERT BROWNING.
こ
​ľ
menace-like the duty of a slave, were that possible.
It lacks the element which alone can make it im-
perative to a free being, namely, that it be recog-
nized as his good, and that the outer law become his
inner motive. The moral law is rarely looked at by
Carlyle as a beneficent revelation, and still more
rarely as the condition which, if fulfilled, will recon-
cile man with nature and with God. And conse-
quently, he can draw little strength from religion;
for it is only love that can cast out fear.
TANK bala
này nhưng vô tâm để có thêm chong anh phục v
при мали р
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Vi
Lamle
To sum up all in a word, Carlyle regarded evil
as having penetrated into the inmost recesses of
man's being. Thought was disease; morality was
blind obedience to a foreign authority; religion was
awe of an Unknowable, with whom man can claim
no kinship. Man's nature was discovered to be
spiritual, only on the side of its Wants. It was an
endowment of a hunger which nothing could satisfy
-not the infinite, because it is too great, not the
finite, because it is too little; not God, because He
is too far above man, not nature, because it is too
far beneath him. We are unable to satisfy ourselves
with the things of sense, and are also shut out of
the heaven of spirit." What have been called, “the
three great terms of thought "-the World, Self, and
God-have fallen asunder in his teaching. It is
the difficulty of reconciling these which brings
despair, while optimism is evidently the conscious-
ness of their harmony.
Ir
(C
Đ
Now, these evils which reflection has revealed, and
which are so much deeper than those of mere sen-
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
97
suous disappointment, can only be removed by
deeper reflection. The harmony of the world of
man's experience, which has been broken by "the.
comprehensive curse of sceptical despair," can, as
Goethe teaches us, be restored only by thought—
"In thine own soul, build it up again."
The complete refutation of Carlyle's pessimistic
view can only come, by reinterpreting each of the
contradicting terms in the light of a higher con-
ception. We must have a deeper grasp and a new
view of the Self, the World, and God. And such a 2?
view can be given adequately only by philosophy.
Reason alone can justify the faith that has been
disturbed by reflection, and re-establish its authority.
How, then, it may be asked, can a poet be ex-
pected to turn back the forces of a scepticism,
which have been thus armed with the weapons of
dialectic? Can anything avail in this region except
explicit demonstration? A poet never demon-
strates, but perceives; art is not a process, but a
result; truth for it is immediate, and it neither
admits nor demands any logical connection of ideas.
The standard-bearers and the trumpeters may be
necessary to kindle the courage of the army and to
lead it on to victory, but the fight must be won by
the thrust of sword and pike. Man needs more
than the intuitions of the great poets, if he is to
maintain solid possession of the truth.
Now, I am prepared to admit the force of this
objection, and I shall endeavour in the sequel to
4
98
ROBERT BROWNING.
A
prove that, in order to establish optimism, more is
needed than Browning can give, even when inter-
preted in the most sympathetic way. His doctrine
is offered in terms of art, and it cannot have any
demonstrative force without violating the limits.
of art. In some of his poems, however,-for in-
stance, in La Saisiaz, Ferishtah's Fancies and the
Parleyings, Browning sought to advance definite
proofs of the theories which he held. He appears
before us at times armed cap-à-pie, like a philosopher.
Still, it is not when he argues that Browning proves
it is when he sees, as a poet sees. It is not by means
of logical demonstrations that he helps us to meet the
despair of Carlyle, or contributes to the establishment
of a better faith. Browning's proofs are least convinc-
ing when he was most aware of his philosophical
presuppositions; and a philosophical critic could
well afford to agree with the critic of art, in relegat-
ing the demonstrating portions of his poems to the
chaotic limbo lying between philosophy and poetry.
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When, however, he forgets his philosophy, and
speaks as poet and religious man, when he is domin-
ated by that sovereign thought which gave unity
to his life-work, and which, therefore, seemed to
lie deeper in him than the necessities of his art
and to determine his poetic function, his utterances
have a far higher significance. For he so lifts the
artistic object into the region of pure thought, and
makes sense and reason so to interpenetrate, that
the old metaphors of " the noble lie " and " the truth
beneath the veil" seem no longer to help. He
بوده و بلی.
TU
VAJ
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
99
seems to show us the truth so vividly and simply,
that we are less willing to make art and philosophy
mutually exclusive, although their methods differ.
Like some of the greatest philosophers, and notably
Plato and Hegel, he constrains us to doubt, whether
the distinction penetrates low beneath the surface;
for philosophy, too, when at its best, is a thinking
of things together. In their light we begin to ask,
whether it is not possible that the interpretation of the
world in terms of spirit, which is the common feature
of both Hegel's philosophy and Browning's poetry,
does not necessarily bring with it a settlement of the
ancient feud between these two modes of thought.
But, in any case, Browning's utterances, especi-
ally those which he makes when he is most poet
and least philosopher, have something of the con-
vincing impressiveness of a reasoned system of
optimism. And this comes, as already suggested,
** Je
M
are
AN
KAZAN
* Var 24,
ENT
Can a di
from his loyalty to a single idea, which gives unity
to all his work. That idea we may, in the end,
be obliged to treat not only as a hypothesis-for
all principles of reconciliation, even those of the
sciences, as long as knowledge is incomplete, must
be regarded as hypotheses-but also as a hypothesis
which he had no right to assume. It may be that
in the end we shall be obliged to say of him, as of
so many others-

ALAM K
DAN

"See the sage, with the hunger for the truth,
And see his system that's all true, except
The one weak place, that's stanchioned by a lie!
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
55
*
100
ROBERT BROWNING.
và các thiết
It may be that the religious form, through which
he generally reaches his convictions, is not freed
from a dogmatic element, which so penetrates his
thought as to vitiate it as a philosophy. Never-
theless, it answered for the poet all the uses of a
philosophy, and it may do the same for many who
are distrustful of the systems of the schools, and who
are "neither able to find a faith nor to do without
one." It contains far-reaching hints of a reconcilia-
tion of the elements of discord in our lives, and a
suggestion of a way in which it may be demon-
strated, that an optimistic theory is truer to facts
than any scepticism or agnosticism, with the despair
that they necessarily bring.
2
For Browning not only advanced a principle,
whereby, as he conceived, man might again be
reconciled to the world and God, and all things be
viewed as the manifestation of a power that is
benevolent; he also sought to apply his principle
to the facts of life. He illustrates his fundamental
hypothesis by means of these facts; and he tests
its validity with the persistence and impressive can-
dour of a scientific investigator. His optimism is
not that of an eclectic, who can ignore inconvenient
difficulties. It is not an attempt to justify the
whole by neglecting details, or to make wrong seem
right by reference to a far-off result, in which the
steps of the process are forgotten. He stakes the
value of his view of life on its power to meet all
facts; one fact, ultimately irreconcilable with his
hypothesis, will, he knows, destroy it.
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
ΙΟΙ
"C All the same,
Of absolute and irretrievable black,-black's soul of black
Beyond white's power to disintensify,-
Of that I saw no sample: such may wreck
My life and ruin my philosophy
To-morrow, doubtless." *
He knew that, to justify God, he had to justify
all His ways to man; that if the good rules at all,
it rules absolutely; and that a single exception
would confute his optimism.
ઃઃ
'So, gazing up, in my youth, at love
As seen through power, ever above
All modes which make it manifest,
My soul brought all to a single test—
That He, the Eternal First and Last,
Who, in His power, had so surpassed
All man conceives of what is might,-
Whose wisdom, too, showed infinite,
-Would prove as infinitely good;
Would never, (my soul understood,)
With power to work all love desires,
Bestow e'en less than man requires." †
* No: love which, on earth, amid all the shows of it,
Has ever been seen the sole good of life in it,
The love, ever growing there, spite of the strife in it,
Shall arise, made perfect, from death's repose of it.
And I shall behold Thee, face to face,
O God, and in Thy light retrace
How in all I loved here, still wast Thou!"‡
We can scarcely miss the emphasis of the poet's
own conviction in these passages, or in the assertion
that,-
"The acknowledgment of God in Christ
Accepted by thy reason, solves for thee
* A Bean Stripe-Ferishtah's Fancies.
+ Christmas Eve.
‡ Ibid.
102
ROBERT BROWNING.
*****
******
ở nên hoàn người ta t
„Tą * du
Consequently, there is a defiant and aggressive
element in his attitude. Strengthened with an
unfaltering faith in the supreme Good, this knight
of the Holy Spirit goes forth over all the world
seeking out wrongs. "He has," said Dr. Westcott,
dared to look on the darkest and meanest forms
of action and passion, from which we commonly
and rightly turn our eyes, and he has brought back
for us from this universal survey a conviction of
hope." I believe, further, that it was in order to
justify this conviction that he set out on his quest.
His interest in vice-in malice, cruelty, ignorance,
brutishness, meanness, the irrational perversity of
a corrupt disposition, and the subtleties of philo-
sophic and aesthetic falsehood-was no morbid
curiosity. Browning was no "painter of dirt";
no artist can portray filth for filth's sake, and
remain an artist. He crowds his pages with crimi-
nals, because he sees deeper than their crimes. He
describes evil without "palliation or reserve," and
allows it to put forth all its might, in order that
he may, in the end, show it to be subjected to
God's purposes. He confronts evil in order to force
it to give up the good, which is all the reality that
is in it. He conceives it as his mission to prove that
evil is stuff for transmuting," and that there is
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BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
103
"But, touched aright, prompt yields each particle its tongue
Of elemental flame-no matter whence flame sprung,
From gums and spice, or else from straw and rottenness.*
All we want is—
"The power to make them burn, express
What lights and warms henceforth, leaves only ash behind,
Howe'er the chance."*
He had Pompilia's faith.
"And still, as the day wore, the trouble grew,
Whereby I guessed there would be born a star."
He goes forth in the might of his faith in the power
of good, as if he wished once for all to try the re-
sources of evil at their uttermost, and pass upon it
a complete and final condemnation. With this
view, he seeks evil in its own haunts. He creates
Guido, the subtlest and most powerful compound
of vice in our literature-except Iago, perhaps
merely in order that we may see evil at its worst ;
and he places him in an environment suited to his
nature, as if he was carrying out an experimentum
crucis. The
،،
66 Midmost blotch of black
Discernible in the group of clustered crimes
Huddling together in the cave they call
Their palace."†
Beside him are his brothers, each with his own
tint of hell"; his mistress, on whose face even
Pompilia saw the glow of the nether pit "flash and
fade"; and his mother-
* Fifine at the Fair.
† The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 869-872.
104
ROBERT BROWNING.
"The gaunt grey nightmare in the furthest smoke,
The hag that gave these three abortions birth,
Unmotherly mother and unwomanly
Woman, that near turns motherhood to shame,
Womanliness to loathing
"C
Such denizens o' the cave now cluster round
Pompilia and heat the furnace sevenfold." While
she
**
"C
Sent prayer like incense up
To God the strong, God the beneficent,
God ever mindful in all strife and strait,
Who, for our own good, makes the need extreme,
Till at the last He puts forth might and saves."†
In these lines we feel the poet's purpose, constant
throughout the whole poem. We know all the
while that with him at our side we can travel safely
through the depths of the Inferno-for the flames
bend back from him; and it is only what we expect
as the result of it all, that there should come
tr
"A bolt from heaven to cleave roof and clear place,
then flood
And purify the scene with outside day-
Which yet, in the absolutest drench of dark,
Ne'er wants its witness, some stray beauty-beam
To the despair of hell."‡
The superabundant strength of Browning's con-
viction in the supremacy of the good, which led
him in The Ring and the Book to depict criminals
at their worst, forced him later on in his life to
exhibit evil in another form. The real meaning
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 911-915.
† The Ring and the Book-Pompilia, 1384–1388.
‡ The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 996-1003.
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
105
X
VRAT
and value of such poems as Fifine at the Fair,
Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Red Cotton Nightcap
Country, Ferishtah's Francies, and others, can only
be determined by a careful and complete analysis
of each of them. But they have one characteristic
so prominent, and so new in poetry, that the most
careless reader cannot fail to detect it. Action and
dramatic treatment give place to a discussion which
is metaphysical; instead of the conflict of motives.
within a character, the stress and strain of passion
and will in collision with circumstances, there is
reflection on action after it has passed, and the
conflict of subtle arguments on the ethical value of
motives and ways of conduct, which the ordinary
moral consciousness condemns without hesitation.
All agree that these poems represent a new de-
parture in poetry, and some consider that in them
the poet, in thus dealing with metaphysical abstrac-
tions, has overleapt the boundaries of the poetic art.
To such critics, this later period seems the period of
his decadence, in which the casuistical tendencies,
which had already appeared in Bishop Blougram's
Apology, Mr. Sludge the Medium, and other poems,
have overwhelmed his art, and his intellect, in its
pride of strength, has grown wanton. Fifine at the
Fair is said to be "a defence of inconstancy, or of
the right of experiment in love." Its hero, who is
"a modern gentleman, a refined, cultured, musical,
artistic and philosophic person, of high attainments,
lofty aspirations, strong emotions, and capricious
will," produces arguments "wide in range, of pro-
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ROBERT
BROWNING.
"6
found significance and infinite ingenuity," to defend
and justify immoral intercourse with a gipsy trull.
The poem consists of the speculations of a libertine,
who coerces into his service truth and sophistry, and
a superabounding wealth of thought and imagery,"
and with no further purpose on the poet's part than
the dramatic delineation of character. Prince
Hohenstiel-Schwangau is spoken of in a similar
manner as the justification, by reference to the
deepest principles of morality, of compromise,
hypocrisy, lying, and a selfishness that betrays
every cause to the individual's meanest welfare.
The object of the poet is by no means to prove
black white, or white black, or to make the worse
appear the better reason, but to bring a seeming
monster and perplexing anomaly under the common
laws of nature, by showing how it has grown to be
what it is, and how it can with more or less self-
delusion reconcile itself to itself."
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I am not able to accept this as a complete explana-
tion of the intention of the poet, except with refer-
ence to Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau. The Prince is
a psychological study, like Mr. Sludge the Medium,
and Bishop Blougram. No doubt he had the
interest of a dramatist in the hero of Fifine at the
Fair and in the hero of Red Cotton Nightcap Country ;
but, in these poems, his dramatic interest is itself
determined by an ethical purpose, which is equally
profound. His meeting with the gipsy at Pornic,
and the spectacle of her unscrupulous audacity in
vice, not only "sent his fancy roaming," but opened
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
107
out before him the fundamental problems of life.
What I would find, therefore, in Fifine at the Fair
is not the casuistic defence of an artistic and specu-
lative libertine, but an earnest attempt on the part
of the poet to prove,
<<
That, through the outward sign, the inward grace allures,
And sparks from heaven transpierce earth's coarsest cover-
tures,-
All by demonstrating the value of Fifine.” *
"C
Within his scheme of the universal good he seeks
to find a place even for this gipsy creature, who
traffics in just what we most pique us that we
keep." Having, in the Ring and the Book, challenged
evil at its worst as it manifests itself practically
in concrete characters and external action, and
having wrung from it the victory of the good, in
Fifine and in his other later poems he meets it again
in the region of dialectic. In this sphere of meta-
physical ethics, evil has assumed a more dangerous
form, especially for an artist. His optimistic faith
has driven the poet into a realm into which poetry
never ventured before. His battle is now, not with
flesh and blood, but with the subtler powers of dark-
ness grown vocal and argumentative, and threaten-
ing to turn the poet's faith in good into a defence
of immorality, and to justify the worst evil by what
is highest of all. Having indicated in outward
fact "the need,” as well as the "transiency of sin and
death," he seeks here to prove that need, and seems,
* Fifine at the Fair, xxviii.
ܼܼܼܿܿܵܿ
*****
108
ROBERT BROWNING.
1
thereby, to degrade the highest truth of religion
into a defence of the worst wickedness.
No doubt the result is sufficiently repulsive to
the abstract moralist, who is apt to find in Fifine
nothing but a casuistical and shameless justification
of evil, which is blasphemy against goodness itself.
We are made to " discover," for instance, that
"There was just
Enough and not too much of hate, love, greed and lust,
Could one discerningly but hold the balance, shift
The weight from scale to scale, do justice to the drift
Of nature, and explain the glories by the shames
Mixed up in man, one stuff miscalled by different names.
We are told that-
CC
Force, guile were arms which earned
My praise, not blame at all."
Confronted with such utterances as these, it is
only natural that, rather than entangle the poet in
them, we should regard them as the sophistries
第一
​kafta
of a philosophical Don Juan, powerful enough,
under the stress of self-defence, to confuse the dis-
tinctions of right and wrong. But, as we shall try
to show in the next chapter, such an apparent
justification of evil cannot be avoided by a re-
flective optimist; and it is implicitly contained
even in those religious utterances of Rabbi Ben
Ezra, Christmas Eve, and A Death in the Desert, with
which we not only identify the poet but ourselves,
in so far as we share his faith that
* Fifine at the Fair, cviii.
BROWNING'S OPTIMISM.
109
"God's in His heaven,-
All's right with the world.'
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karmak dan me
The poet had far too much speculative acumen
to be ignorant of this, and too much boldness and
strength of conviction in the might of the good,
to refuse to confront the issues that sprang from it.
In his later poems, as in his earlier ones, he is
endeavouring to justify the ways of God to man;
and the difficulties which surround him are not
those of a casuist, but the stubborn questionings
of a spirit, whose religious faith is thoroughly
earnest and fearless. To a spirit so loyal to the
truth, and so bold to follow its leading, the sup-
pression of such problems is impossible; and,
consequently, it was inevitable that he should use
the whole strength of his dialectic to try those
fundamental principles, on which the moral life of
man is based. And it is this, I believe, which we
find in Fifine, as in Ferishtah's Fancies and the
Parleyings not an exhibition of the argumenta-
tive subtlety of a mind whose strength has become
lawless, and which spends itself in intellectual
gymnastics, that have no place within the realm of
either the beautiful or the true.
i
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS: THEIR CONTRADICTION.
CHAPTER V.
"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky
Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
But most it is presumption in us, when
The help of heaven we count the act of men.”*
HAVE tried to show that one of the ruling
conceptions of Browning's view of life is that
the Good is absolute, and that it reveals itself in all
I
*ATES)
Ta thi sĩ Th PRONOST
the events of human life. By means of this con-
ception, he endeavoured to bring together the
elements which had fallen asunder in the sensational
and moral pessimism of Byron and Carlyle. In other
words, through the re-interpreting power which lies in
this fundamental thought when it is soberly held and
fearlessly applied, he sought to reconcile man with
the world and with God, and thereby with himself.
And the governing motive, whether the conscious
motive or not, of Browning's poetry, the secret
impulse which led him to dramatise the conflicts and
antagonisms of human life, was the necessity of
finding in them evidence of the presence of this
absolute Good.
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OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
III
Browning's optimism was deep and comprehensive
enough to reject all compromise. His faith in the
good seemed to rise with the demands that were
made upon it by the misery and wickedness of man,
and the apparently purposeless waste of life and its
resources. There was in it a deliberate earnestness
which led him to grapple, not only with the concrete
difficulties of individual life, but with those also
that spring from reflection and theory.
► 2
The test of a philosophic optimism, as of any
optimism which is more than a pious sentiment,
must finally lie in its power to reveal the presence
of the good in actual individual evils. But there
are difficulties still nearer than those presented by
concrete facts, difficulties arising out of the very
suggestion that evil is a form of good. Such
speculative difficulties must be met by a reflective
mind, before it can follow out the application of an
optimistic theory to particular facts. Now, Brown-
ing's creed, at least as he held it in his later years,
was not merely the allowable exaggeration of an
ecstatic religious sentiment, the impassioned convic-
tion of a God-intoxicated man. It was deliberately
presented as a solution of moral problems, and was
intended to serve as a theory of the spiritual nature
of things. It is, therefore, justly open to the same
kind of criticism as that to which a philosophic doc-
trine is exposed. The poet deprived himself of the
refuge, legitimate enough to the intuitive method of
art, when, in his later works, he not only offered
a dramatic solution of the problem of life, but
*
A
•
112
ROBERT BROWNING.
definitely attempted to meet the difficulties of
speculative ethics.
In this chapter I shall point out some of these
difficulties, and then proceed to show how the poet
proposed to solve them.

A thorough-going optimism, in that it subdues
all things to the idea of the supreme Good, and
denies to evil the right even to dispute the abso-
luteness of its sway, naturally seems to imply a
pantheistic theory of the world. And Browning's
insistence on the presence of the highest in all
things may easily be regarded as a mere revival
of the oldest and crudest attempts at finding their
unity in God. For if all, as he says, is for the
best, there seems to be no room left for the differ-
ences apparent in the world, and the variety which
gives it beauty and worth. Particular existences
would seem to be illusory and evanescent phenom-
ena, the creations of human imagination, itself a
delusive appearance.
The infinite, on this view,
stands over against the finite, and it overpowers
and consumes it; and the optimism, implied in the
phrase that God is all," turns at once into a
pessimism. For, as soon as we inquire into the
meaning of this "all," we find that it is only a nega-
tion of everything we can know or be. Such a
pantheism as this is self-contradictory; for, while
seeming to level all things upwards to a manifesta-
tion of the divine, it really levels all downwards
to the level of mere unqualified being, a stagnant
and empty unknowable. It leaves only a choice
"C
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
113
between akosmism and atheism, and, at the same
time, it makes each of the alternatives impos-
sible. For, in explaining the world it abolishes it,
and in abolishing the world it empties itself of
all signification; so that the Godhood which it
attempts to establish throughout the whole realm
of being, is found to mean nothing. "It is the
night, in which all cows are black.'
MATT
Tên công ty
The optimistic creed, which the poet strove to
teach, must, therefore, not only establish the imma-
nence of God, but show in some way how such
immanence is consistent with the existence of par-
ticular things. His doctrine that there is no failure,
or folly, or wickedness, or misery, but conceals
within it, at its heart, a divine element; that there
is no incident in human history which is not a
pulsation of the life of the highest, and which has
not its place in a scheme of universal good, must
leave room for the moral life of man, and all the
risks which morality brings with it. Otherwise,
optimism is impossible. For a God who, in filling
the universe with His presence, encroaches on the
freedom and extinguishes the independence of man,
precludes the possibility of all that is best for man
—namely, moral achievement. Life, deprived of its
moral purpose, is worthless to the poet, and so, in
consequence, is all that exists in order to maintain
that life. Optimism and ethics seem thus to come
into immediate collision. The former, finding the
presence of God in all things, seems to leave no
room for man; and the latter seems to set man to
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ROBERT BROWNING.
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work out his own destiny in solitude, and to give him
supreme and absolute authority over his own life;
so that any character which he forms, be it good
or bad, is entirely the product of his own activity.
So far as his life is culpable or praiseworthy, in
other words, so far as we pass any moral judgment
upon it, we necessarily think of it as the revelation
of a self, that is, of an independent will, which cannot
divide its responsibility. There may be, and indeed
there always is for every individual, a hereditary
predisposition and a soliciting environment, ten-
dencies which are his inheritance from a remote past,
and which rise to the surface in his own life; in
other words, the life of the individual is always led
within the larger sweep of the life of humanity. He
is part of a whole, and has his place fixed, and his
function predetermined, by a power which is greater
than his own. But, if we are to call him good or evil,
if he is to aspire and repent and strive, in a word,
if he is to have any moral character, he cannot
be merely a part of a system; there must be some-
thing within him which is superior to circumstances,
and which makes him master of his own fate. His
natural history may begin with the grey dawn of
primal being, but his moral history begins with
himself, from the time when he first reacted upon
the world in which he is placed, and transformed
his natural relations into will and character. For
who can be responsible for what he did not will?
What could a moral imperative mean, what could
an "ought" signify, to a being who was only a

OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
115
temporary embodiment of forces, who are prior
to, and independent of himself?
It would seem,
therefore, as if morality were irreconcilable with
optimism. The moral life of man cannot be the
manifestation of a divine benevolence whose pur-
pose is necessary; it is a trust laid upon himself,
which he may either violate or keep. It surpasses
divine goodness, "tho' matched with equal power"
to make man good, as it has made the flowers
beautiful. From this point of view, spiritual attain-
ment, whether intellectual or moral, is man's own,
a spontaneous product. Just as God is conceived
as all in all in the universe, so man is all in all
within the sphere of duty; for the kingdom of
heaven is within. In both cases alike, there is
absolute exclusion of external interference.
For this reason, it has often seemed both to
philosophers and theologians, as if the world were
too confined to hold within it both God and man.
In the East, the consciousness of the infinite seemed
at times to leave no room for the finite; and in
the West, where the consciousness of the finite and
interest therein is strongest, and man strives and
aspires, a Deism arose which set God at a distance,
and allowed Him to interfere in the fate of man
only by a benevolent miracle. Nor is this collision
of pantheism and freedom, nay of religion and
morality, confined to the theoretical region. This
difficulty is not merely the punishment of an over-
bold and over-ambitious philosophy, which pries
too curiously into the mystery of being. It lies
116
ROBERT BROWNING.
at the very threshold of all reflection on the facts
of the moral life. Even children feel the mystery
of God's permitting sin, and embarrass their helpless
parents with the contradiction between absolute
benevolence and the miseries and cruelties of life.
"A vain interminable controversy," says Teufels-
dröckh, "which arises in every soul since the be-
ginning of the world: and in every soul, that would
pass from idle suffering into actual endeavouring,
must be put an end to. The most, in our own
time, have to go content with a simple, incomplete
enough Suppression of this controversy: to a few
Solution of it is indispensable.
""
Solution, and not Suppression, is what Browning
sought; he did, in fact, propound a solution, which,
whether finally satisfactory or not, at least carries
us beyond the easy compromises of ordinary re-
ligious and ethical teaching. He does not deny
the universality of God's beneficence or power,
and divide the realm of being between Him and
the adversary: nor, on the other hand, does he
limit man's freedom, and stultify ethics by extract-
ing the sting of reality from sin. To limit God, he
knew, was to deny Him; and, whatever the diffi-
culties he felt in regarding the absolute Spirit as
realizing itself in man, he could not be content to
reduce man into a temporary phantom, an evanes-
cent embodiment of "spiritual" or natural forces,
that take a fleeting form in him as they pursue
their onward way.
Browning held with equal tenacity to the idea of a
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
117
DA TE DA or abort.
universal benevolent order, and to the idea of the
moral freedom of man within it. He was driven in
opposite directions by two beliefs, both of which he
knew to be essential to the life of man as spirit, and
both of which he illustrates throughout his poems
with an endless variety of poetic expression. He
endeavoured to find God in man and still to leave
man free. His optimistic faith sought reconcilia-
tion with morality. The vigour of his ethical
doctrine is as pre-eminent, as the fulness of his
conviction of the absolute sway of the Good. Side
by side with his doctrine that there is no failure,
no wretchedness of corruption that does not con-
ceal within it a germ of goodness, is his sense of the
PRA S
evil of sin, of the infinite earnestness of man's moral
warfare, and of the surpassing magnitude of the
issues at stake for each individual soul. So powerful
is his interest in man as a moral agent, that he sees
nought else in the world of any deep concern.
"My
stress lay," he said in his preface to Sordello (1863),
<<
on the incidents in the development of a soul: little
else is worth study. I, at least, always thought so-
you, with many known and unknown to me, think so
**___* @{*<r
-others may one day think so." And this develop-
ment of a soul is not at any time regarded by the poet
as a peaceful process, like the growth of a plant or
animal. Although he thinks of the life of man as the
gradual realization of a divine purpose within him,
he does not suppose it to take place in obedience to a
tranquil necessity. Man advances morally by fighting
his way inch by inch, and he gains nothing except
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118
ROBERT BROWNING.
through conflict. He does not become good as the
plant grows into maturity. "The kingdom of
heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it
by force."
X
No, when the fight begins within himself,
A man's worth something. God stoops o'er his head,
Satan looks up between his feet,-both tug-
He's left, himself, i' the middle: the soul awakes
And grows. Prolong that battle through this life!
Never leave growing till the life to come.
*
""
Man is no idle spectator of the conflict of the forces
of right and wrong; Browning never loses the
individual in the throng, or sinks him into his age
or race. And although the poet ever bears within
him the certainty of victory for the good, he calls his
fellows to the fight as if the fate of all hung on the
valour of each. The struggle is always personal,
individual like the duels of the Homeric heroes.
Shad
It is under the guise of warfare that morality
always presents itself to Browning. It is not a
mere equilibrium of qualities-the measured, self-
contained, statuesque ethics of the Greeks, nor the
asceticism and self-restraint of Puritanism, nor the
peaceful evolution of Goethe's artistic morality:
it is valour in the battle of life. His code con-
tains no negative commandments, and no limita-
tions; but he bids each man let out all the power
that is within him, and throw himself upon life
with the whole energy of his being. It is better
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even to seek evil with one's whole mind, than to
* Bishop Blougram.

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OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
119
be lukewarm in goodness. Whether you seek good
or evil, and play for the counter or the coin, stake it
boldly!
"Let a man contend to the uttermost
For his life's set prize, be it what it will!
CC
The counter our lovers staked was lost
As surely as if it were lawful coin:
And the sin I impute to each frustrate ghost
"Is, the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin
Though the end in sight was a vice, I say.
Ycu, of the virtue (we issue join)
How strive you?- De te fabula !'”*
Indifference and spiritual lassitude are, to the
"Go!" says the Pope to
poet, the worst of sins.
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Pompilia's pseudo-parents,
"Never again elude the choice of tints!
White shall not neutralize the black, nor good
Compensate bad in man, absolve him so:
Life's business being just the terrible choice." †
In all the greater characters of The Ring and
the Book, this intensity of vigour in good and evil
flashes out upon us. Even Pompilia, the most
gentle of all his creations, at the first prompting
of the instinct of motherhood, rises to the law
demanding resistance, and casts off the old pas-
sivity.
"Dutiful to the foolish parents first,
Submissive next to the bad husband,-nay,
Tolerant of those meaner miserable
That did his hests, eked out the dole of pain"; ‡
* The Statue and the Bust.
† The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1235–1238.
‡ Ibid., 1052-1055.
120
ROBERT BROWNING.
she is found
"Sublime in new impatience with the foe."
"I did for once see right, do right, give tongue
The adequate protest: for a worm must turn
If it would have its wrong observed by God.
I did spring up, attempt to thrust aside
That ice-block 'twixt the sun and me, lay low
The neutralizer of all good and truth."*
66
Yet, shame thus rank and patent, I struck, bare,
At foe from head to foot in magic mail,
And off it withered, cobweb armoury
Against the lightning! 'Twas truth singed the lies
And saved me.Ӡ
Beneath the mature wisdom of the Pope, amidst
the ashes of old age, there sleeps the same fire.
He is as truly a warrior priest as Caponsacchi
himself, and his matured experience only muffles
his vigour. Wearied with his life-long labour, we
see him gather himself together "in God's name,'
to do His will on earth once more with concen-
trated might.
"I smite
With my whole strength once more, ere end my part,
Ending, so far as man may, this offence."‡
Nor, spite of doubts, the promptings of mercy,
the friends plucking his sleeve to stay his arm,
does he fear "to handle a lie roughly"; or shrink
from sending the criminal to his account, though it
be but one day before he himself is called before
* The Ring and the Book-Pompilia, 1591-1596.
† Ibid., 1637-1641.
The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1958-1960.
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
121
the judgment seat. The same energy, the same
spirit of bold conflict, animates Guido's adoption of
evil for his good. At all but the last moment of
his life of monstrous crime, just before he hears
the echo of the feet of the priests, who descend the
stair to lead him to his death, "he repeats his evil
deed in will."
"Nor is it in me to unhate my hates,-
I use up my last strength to strike once more
Old Pietro in the wine-house-gossip-face,
To trample underfoot the whine and wile
Of beast Violante,—and I grow one gorge
To loathingly reject Pompilia's pale
Poison my hasty hunger took for food." *
d
If there be any concrete form of evil with which
the poet's optimism is not able to cope, any irretriev-
able black" beyond white's power to disintensify,"
it is the refusal to take a definite stand and resolute
for either virtue or vice; the hesitancy and com-
promise of a life that is loyal to nothing, not even.
to its own selfishness. The cool self-love of the
old English moralists, which "reduced the game of
life to principles," and weighed good and evil in
the scales of prudence, is to our poet the deepest
damnation.
66
'Saint Eldobert-I much approve his mode;
With sinner Vertgalant I sympathize;
But histrionic Sganarelle, who prompts
While pulling back, refuses yet concedes,—
Surely, one should bid pack that mountebank!”
* The Ring and the Book-Guido, 2400-2406.
122
ROBERT BROWNING.
In him, even
"thickheads ought to recognize
The Devil, that old stager, at his trick
Of general utility, who leads
Downward, perhaps, but fiddles all the way!
3,
For the bold sinner, who chooses and sustains
his part to the end, the poet has hope. Indeed,
the resolute choice is itself the beginning of hope;
for, let a man only give himself to anything, wreak
himself on the world in the intensity of his hate,
set all sail before the gusts of passion and "range
from Helen to Elvire, frenetic to be free," let
him rise into a decisive self-assertion against the
stable order of the moral world, and he cannot
fail to discover the nature of the task he has un-
dertaken, and the meaning of the power without,
against which he has set himself. If there be
sufficient strength in a man to vent himself in action,
and "try conclusions with the world," he will then
learn that it has another destiny than to be the
instrument of evil. Self-assertion taken by itself is
good; indeed, it is the very law of every life, human
and other.
"Each lie
Redounded to the praise of man, was victory
Man's nature had both right to get and might to gain." ÷
Red Cotton Nightcap Country.
† Fifine at the Fair, cxxviii.
Windy
But it leads to the revelation of a higher law
than that of selfishness, The very assertion of
the self which leads into evil, ultimately leaves the
self assertion futile. There is the disappointment
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
123
of utter failure; the sinner is thrown back upon
himself empty-handed. He finds himself subjected,
even when sinning,
"To the reign
Of other quite as real a nature, that saw fit
To have its way with man, not man his way with it." *
"Poor pabulum for pride when the first love is found
Last also! and, so far from realizing gain,
Each step aside just proves divergency in vain.
The wanderer brings home no profit from his quest
Beyond the sad surmise that keeping house were best
Could life begin anew."†
The impossibility of living a divided life, of en-
joying at once the sweets of the flesh on the "Turf,"
and the security of the "Towers," is the text of
Red Cotton Nightcap Country. The sordid hero of
the poem is gradually driven to choose between the
alternatives. The best of his luck, the poet thinks,
was the
'Rough but wholesome shock,
An accident which comes to kill or cure,
A jerk which mends a dislocated joint!"‡
ઃઃ
The continuance of disguise and subterfuge, and
the retention of " the first falsehood," are ultimately
made impossible to Léonce Miranda :
*
"Thus by a rude in seeming-rightlier judged
Beneficent surprise, publicity
Stopped further fear and trembling, and what tale
Cowardice thinks a covert one bold splash
Into the mid-shame, and the shiver ends,
Though cramp and drowning may begin perhaps." §
Fifine at the Fair, cxxviii.
+ Red Cotton Nightcap Country.
† Ibid. cxxix.
§ Ibid.
124
ROBERT BROWNING.
In the same spirit he finds Miranda's suicidal leap
the best deed possible for him.
"Mad!''No! sane, I say.
Such being the conditions of his life,
Such end of life was not irrational.
Hold a belief, you only half-believe,
With all-momentous issues either way,—
And I advise you imitate this leap,
Put faith to proof, be cured or killed at once!
*"*
""
Thus it is the decisive deed that gains the poet's
approval. He finds the universe a great plot
against a pied morality. Even Guido claims some
kind of regard from him, since "hate," as Pompilia
said, was the truth of him." In that very hate we
find, beneath his endless subterfuges, something real,
at last. And since, through his hate, he is frankly
measuring his powers against the good at work in
the world, there cannot remain any doubt of the
issue. To bring the rival forces face to face is just
what is wanted.
"I felt quite sure that God had set
Himself to Satan; who would spend
A minute's mistrust on the end? "†
It is the same respect for strenuous action and dis-
like of compromise, that inspired the pathetic lines
in which he condemns the Lost Leader, who broke
"From the van and the free-men, and sunk to the
rear and the slaves." For the good pursues its work
without him.
* Red Cotton Nightcap Country.
† Count Gismond.
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
125
"We shall march prospering,-not thro' his presence;
Songs may inspirit us,-not from his lyre;
Deeds will be done,-while he boasts his quiescence,
S.ill bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire :
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,
One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,
One more devil's triumph and sorrow for angels,
One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!"*
ván Ángel Tat
CĂ SĂ Pont N
Everywhere Browning's ethical teaching has this
characteristic feature of vigorous decisiveness. As
Dr. Westcott has said, 'No room is left for indiffer-
ence or neutrality. There is no surrender to an idle
optimism. A part must be taken and maintained.
The spirit in which Luther said Pecca fortiter finds
in him powerful expression." Browning is emphati-
cally the poet-militant, and the prophet of struggling
manhood. His words are like trumpet-calls sounded
in the van of man's struggle, wafted back by the
winds, and heard through all the din of conflict by his
meaner brethren, who are obscurely fighting for the
good in the throng and crush of life. We catch the
tones of this heart-strengthening music in the earliest
poems he sung: nor did his courage fail, or vigour
wane, as the shades of night gathered round him. In
the latest of all his poems, he still speaks of
triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake."
"One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would
* The Lost Leader.
MAXI
126
ROBERT BROWNING.
"No, at noon-day in the bustle of man's work time
Greet the unseen with a cheer!
Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be,
'Strive and thrive'! cry 'Speed !-fight on, fare ever
There as here.'"
These are fit words to close such a life. His last act
is a kind of re-enlistment in the service of the good;
the joyous venturing forth on a new war under new
conditions and in lands unknown, by a heroic man
who is sure of himself and sure of his cause.
But now comes the great difficulty. How can the
poet combine such earnestness in the moral struggle
with so deep a conviction of the ultimate nothingness
of evil, and of the complete victory of the good?
Again and again we have found him pronounce such
victory to be absolutely necessary and inevitable.
His belief in God, his trust in His love and might,
will brook no limit anywhere. His conviction is that
the power of the good subjects evil itself to its
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My own hope is, a sun will pierce
The thickest cloud earth ever stretched ;
That, after Last, returns the First,
Though a wide compass round be fetched;
That what began best, can't end worst.
Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst." 't
It is the poet himself and not merely the sophistic
æsthete of Fifine that speaks :—
Partake my confidence! No creature's made so mean
But that, some way, it boasts, could we investigate,
Its supreme worth: fulfils, by ordinance of fate,
* Epilogue to Asolando.
† Apparent Failure.
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
127
Its momentary task, gets glory all its own,
Tastes triumph in the world, pre-eminent, alone.”
"c
<<
As firm is my belief, quick sense perceives the same
Self-vindicating flash illustrate every man
And woman of our mass, and prove, throughout the plan,
No detail but, in place allotted it, was prime
And perfect.
>> *
But if so, if Helen, Fifine, Guido, find themselves
within the plan, fulfilling, after all, the task allotted
to them in the universal scheme, how can we con-
demn them? Must we not plainly either modify
our optimism and keep our faith in God within
bounds, or, on the other hand, make every failure
apparent " only, sin a phantom, and the distinction
between right and wrong a helpful illusion that stings
man to effort-but an illusion all the same?
"What but the weakness in a Faith supplies
The incentive to humanity, no strength
Absolute, irresistible comforts.
How can man love but what he yearns to help? †
Where is the need, nay, the possibility, of self-sacri-
fice, except where there is misery? How can good,
the good which is highest, find itself, and give utter-
ance and actuality to the power that slumbers within
it, except as resisting evil? Are not good and evil
relative? Is not every criminal, when really known,
working out in his own way the salvation of himself
and the world? Why cannot he, then, take his stand
on his right to move towards the good by any path
that best pleases himself: since move he must. It
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* Fifine at the Fair, xxix.
† The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1649–1652.
Un
128
ROBERT BROWNING.
is easy for the religious conscience to admit with
Pippa that
But, if so, why do we admire her sweet pre-eminence
in moral beauty, and in what is she really better than
Ottima? The doctrine that
"All service ranks the same with God-
With God, whose puppets, best and worst,
Are we there is no last or first." *
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finds its echo in every devout spirit from the
beginning of the world: it is of the very essence
of religion. But what of its moral consequences?
Religion, when thoroughly consistent, is the trium-
phant reconciliation of all contradictions. It is
optimism, the justification of things as the process of
evolving the good; and its peace and joy are just the
outcome of the conviction, won by faith, that the
ideal is actual, and that every detail of life is, in its
own place, illumined with divine goodness. But
morality is the condemnation of things as they are,
by reference to a conception of a good which ought
to be. The absolute identification of the actual
and ideal extinguishes morality, either in something
lower or something higher. But the moral ideal,
when reached, turns at once into a stepping-stone, a
dead self; and the good formulates itself anew as an
ideal in the future. So that morality is the sphere of
discrepancy, and the moral life a progressive realiza-
* Pippa Passes.
224
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Ibid.
"God's in His heaven-
All's right with the world!"†
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OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
129
tion of a good that can never be complete. It would
thus seem to be irreconcilably different from religion,
which must, in some way or other, find the good to
be present, actual, absolute, without shadow of
change, or hint of limit or imperfection.
Sed in May
How, then, does the poet deal with the apparently
fundamental discrepancy between religion, which
postulates the absolute and universal supremacy
of God, and morality, which postulates the absolute
supremacy of man within the sphere of his own
action, in so far as it is called right or wrong?
LEP TOWAR
This difficulty, in one or other of its forms, is,
perhaps, the most pressing in modern philosophy.
It is the problem of the possibility of rising above
the "Either, Or" of discrepant conceptions, to a
position which grasps the alternatives together in
a higher idea. It is at bottom the question,
whether we can have a philosophy at all; or
whether we must fall back once more into com-
promise, and the scepticism and despair which it
always brings with it.
It is just because Browning does not compromise
between the contending truths that he is instructive.
The value of his solution of the problem corre-
sponds accurately to the degree in which he holds.
both the absoluteness of God's presence in history,
and the complete independence of the moral
consciousness. He refused to degrade either God
or man. In the name of religion, he refuses to
say that "a purpose of reason is visible in the
social and legal structures of mankind "—only “on
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mandator
130
ROBERT BROWNING.
the whole "; and in the name of morality, he refuses
to "assert the perfection of the actual world"
it is, and by implication to stultify all human en-
deavour. He knew the vice of compromising, and
strove to hold both the truths in their fulness.
That he did not compromise God's love or power,
and make it dominant merely "on the whole," leaving
within His realm, which is universal, a limbo for the
"lost," is evident to the most casual reader.
Feed
"This doctrine, which one healthy view of things,
One sane sight of the general ordinance—
Nature, and its particular object,―man,—
Which one mere eyecast at the character
"
Of Who made these and gave man sense to boot,
Had dissipated once and evermore,-
This doctrine I have dosed our flock withal.
Why? Because none believed it." *
O'er-punished wrong grows right," Browning
says. Hell is, for him, the consciousness of oppor-
tunities neglected, arrested growth and even that,
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in turn, is the beginning of a better life.
"However near I stand in His regard,
So much the nearer had I stood by steps
Offered the feet which rashly spurned their help.
That I call Hell; why further punishment? "†
Another ordinary view, according to which evil is
self-destructive, and ends with the annihilation of
its servant, he does not so decisively reject. At
least, in a passage of wonderful poetic and philosophic
power, which he puts into the mouth of Caponsacchi,
he describes Guido as gradually lapsing towards
† A Camel-Driver.
* The Inn Album.
!
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
131
the chaos, which is lower then created existence.
He observes him
''
Not to die so much as slide out of life,
Pushed by the general horror and common hate
Low, lower,-left o' the very ledge of things,
I seem to see him catch convulsively,
One by one at all honest forms of life,
At reason, order, decency and use,
To cramp him and get foothold by at least ;
And still they disengage them from his clutch.
Complete
An
And thus I see him slowly and surely edged
Off all the table-land whence life upsprings
Aspiring to be immortality."
There he loses him in the loneliness, silence and
dusk-
"At the horizontal line, creation's verge,
From what just is to absolute nothingness." *
But the matchless moral insight of the Pope leads
to a different conclusion, and the poet again retrieves.
his faith. The Pope puts his first trust "in the
suddenness of Guido's fate," and hopes that the truth
may "be flashed out by the blow of death, and Guido
see one instant and be saved." Nor is his trust vain.
The end comes," said Dr. Westcott. The minis-
ters of death claim him. In his agony he summons
every helper whom he has known or heard of-
"C
66
66 6
Abate,-Cardinal,-Christ,—Maria,—God—'
and then the light breaks through the blackest
gloom :
Pompilia ! will you let them murder me?'
* The Ring and the Book-Giuseppe Caponsacchi, 1911-1931.
પ
132
ROBERT BROWNING.
In this supreme moment he has known what love is,
and, knowing it, has begun to feel it. The cry, like
the intercession of the rich man in Hades, is a
promise of a far-off deliverance."
But even beyond this hope, which is the last for
most men, the Pope had still another.
"Else I avert my face, nor follow him
Into that sad obscure sequestered state
Where God unmakes but to remake the soul
He else made first in vain: which must not be.
19
This phrase," which must not be," seems to me to
carry in it the irrefragable conviction of the poet
himself. The same faith in the future appears in
the words in which Pompilia addresses her priest.
"O lover of my life, O soldier-saint,
No work begun shall ever pause for death !
Love will be helpful to me more and more
I' the coming course, the new path I must tread,
""
My weak hand in thy strong hand, strong for that! †
For the poet, the death of man brings no change in
the purpose of God; nor does it, or aught else, fix a
limit to His power, or stultify by failure the end
implied in all God's work, nature no less than man
himself—to wit, that every soul shall learn the lesson
of goodness, and reflect the divine life in desire,
intelligence, and will.
Equally emphatic, on some sides at least, is Brown-
ing's rejection of those compromises, with which the
one-sided religious consciousness threatens the exist-
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 2129-2132.
† The Ring and the Book-Pompilia, 1786–1790.
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
133
ence of the moral life. At times, indeed, he seems
to teach, as man's best and highest, a passive acquies-
cence in the divine benevolence; and he uses the
dangerous metaphor of the clay and potter's wheel.
Rabbi Ben Ezra bids us feel
"Why time spins fast, why passive lies our clay ";
and his prayer is,
"So, take and use Thy work :
Amend what flaws may lurk,
What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim !
My times be in Thy hand!
Perfect the cup as planned!
""
Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same !
"C
(c
But this attitude of quiescent trust, which is so
characteristic of religion, is known by the poet to be
only a phase of man's best life. It is a temporary
resting-place for the pilgrim : the country of
Beulah, whose air is very sweet and pleasant, where
he may solace himself for a season.”
But, the
way lies directly through it," and the pilgrim," being
a little strengthened and better able to bear his sick-
ness," has to go forward on his journey. Brown-
ing's characteristic doctrine on this matter is not
acquiescence and resignation. "Leave God the
way" has, in his view, its counterpart and con-
dition" Have you the will! ”
"For a worm must turn
If it would have its wrong observed by God.” †
* Rabbi Ben Ezra.
† The Ring and the Book-Pompilia, 1592-1593.
134
ROBERT BROWNING.
The root of Browning's joy is in the need of progress
towards an infinitely high goal. He rejoices
"that man is hurled
From change to change unceasingly,
His soul's wings never furled."
The bliss of endeavour, the infinite worth of the con-
sciousness of failure, with its evidence of coming
triumph," the spark which disturbs our clod," these
are the essence of his optimistic interpretation of
human life, and also of his robust ethical doctrine.
Then, welcome each rebuff
That turns earth's smoothness rough,
Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!
Be our joys three-parts pain !
Strive, and hold cheap the strain ;
Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!
** **
And he prolongs the battle beyond time, for the
battle is the moral life and man's best, and therefore
God's best in man. The struggle upward from the
brute, may, indeed end with death. But this only
means that man " has learned the uses of the flesh,
and there are in him other potencies to evolve:
"
"Other heights in other lives, God willing."
Death is the summing up of this life's meaning,
stored strength for new adventure.
८८
The future I may face now I have proved the
past; " and, in view of it, Browning is
"Fearless and unperplexed
When I wage battle next,
What weapons to select, what armour to indue."
* Rabbi Ben Ezra.
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
135
He is sure that it will be a battle, and a winning
one. There is no limiting here of man's possibility,
or confining of man's endeavour after goodness.
"Strive and Thrive! cry 'Speed,' fight on, fare ever
There as here,"
are the last words which came from his pen.
Now, it may fairly be argued that these allu-
sions to what death may mean, and what may lie
beyond death, valuable as they may be as poetry,
cannot help in philosophy. They do not solve
the problem of the relation between morality and
religion, but merely continue the antagonism be-
tween them into a life beyond, of which we have
no experience. If the problem is to be solved, it
must be solved as it is stated for us in the present
world.
?
This objection is valid, so far as it goes. But
Browning's treatment is valuable all the same, in so
far as it indicates his unwillingness to limit or
compromise the conflicting truths. He, by implica-
tion, rejects the view, ordinarily held without being
examined, that the moral life is preliminary to the
joy and rest of religion; a brief struggle, to be
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followed by a sudden lift out of it into some serene
sphere, where man will lead an angel's life, which
knows no imperfection and therefore no growth.
He refuses to make morality an accident in man's
history and "to put man in the place of God," by
identifying the process with the ideal; he also
refuses to make man's struggle, and God's achieve-
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136
ROBERT BROWNING.
súčtiž, 4* na
ment within man, mutually exclusive alternatives.
As I shall show in the sequel, movement towards
an ideal, actualizing but never actualized, is for
the poet the very nature of man. And to speak
about either God or man (or even the absolute
philosopher) as "the last term of a development ”
has no meaning to him. We are not first moral
and then religious, first struggling with evil and
then conscious of overcoming it. God is with us
in the battle, and the victory is in every blow.
But there lies a deeper difficulty than this in
the way of reconciling morality and religion, or the
presence of both God and man in human action.
Morality, in so far as it is achievement, might
conceivably be immediately identified with the
process of an absolute good; but morality is always
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a consciousness of failure as well. Its very essence
and verve is the conviction that the ideal is not
actual. And the higher a man's spiritual attain-
ment, the more impressive is his view of the evil
of the world, and of the greatness of the work
pressing to be done. "Say not ye, there are yet
four months, and then cometh harvest? Behold
I say unto you, 'Lift up your eyes and look on
the fields; for they are white already to harvest.'"
It looks like blasphemy against morality to say
"that God lives in eternity and has, therefore,
plenty of time." Morality destroys one's content-
ment with the world; and its language seems to be,
“God is not here, but there; the kingdom is still
to come."
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OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
137
Nor does it rest with condemning the world. It
also finds flaws in its own highest achievement ; so
that we seem ever To mock ourselves in all that's
best of us." The beginning of the spiritual life
seems just to consist in a consciousness of complete X
failure, and that consciousness ever grows deeper.
単品​の
​This is well illustrated in Browning's account of
Caponsacchi; from the time when Pompilia's smile
first "glowed" upon him, and set him-
1
CC
Thinking how my life
Had shaken under me-broken short indeed
And showed the gap 'twixt what is, what should be—
And into what abysm the soul may slip
""
up to the time when his pure love for her revealed
to him something of the grandeur of goodness, and
led him to define his ideal and also to express his
despair.
"To have to do with nothing but the true,
The good, the eternal—and these, not alone
In the main current of the general life,
But small experiences of every day,
Concerns of the particular hearth and home :
To learn not only by a comet's rush
But a rose's birth-not by the grandeur, God,
But the comfort, Christ. All this how far away!
Mere delectation, meet for a minute's dream!" †
So illimitably beyond his strength is such a life,
that he finds himself like the drudging student who
"Trims his lamp,
Opens his Plutarch, puts him in the place
* The Ring and the Book-Giuseppe Caponsacchi, 485–488.
† Ibid. 2089-2097.
138
ROBERT BROWNING.
Of Roman, Grecian; draws the patched gown close,
Dreams, 'Thus should I fight, save or rule the world !'—
Then smilingly, contentedly, awakes
To the old solitary nothingness.” *
The moral world with its illimitable horizon had
opened out around him, the voice of the new com-
mandment bidding him "be perfect as his Father
in heaven is perfect " had destroyed his peace, and
made imperative a well nigh hopeless struggle; and,
as he compares himself at his best with the new ideal,
he breaks out into the cry,
"O great, just, good God! Miserable Me!"
This humility and contrition, this discontent verging
on hopelessness, constituted, as we have seen, the
characteristic attitude of Carlyle; and it represents
a true and, in fact, an indispensable element of
man's moral life.
But this self-condemnation in the face of the
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moral law is nothing more than an element, and
must not be taken either for the whole truth or for
the most fundamental one. It is because it is
taken as fundamental and final that the discrepancy
between morality and religion is held to be absolute,
and the consciousness of evil is turned against faith
in the Good. It is an abstract way of thinking
that makes us deduce, from the transcendent height
of the moral ideal, the impossibility of attaining
goodness, and the failure of God's purpose in man.
And this is what Carlyle did. He stopped short
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OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
139
at the consciousness of imperfection, and he made
no attempt to account for it. He took it as a
complete fact, and therefore drew a sharp line of
distinction between the human and the divine.
And, so far, he was right; for, if we look no further
than this negative side, it is emphatically absurd
to identify man, be he "philosopher" or not, with
the Absolute. "Why callest thou Me good? there
is none good save One, that is God." The "ought "
must stand above all human attainment, and declare
that whatever is, is wrong." But whence comes
the ought itself, the ideal which condemns us?
Is it not also immanent in the fact it condemns?
<<
""
Who is not acute enough," asks Hegel, "to see
a great deal in his surroundings which is really far
from being what it ought to be?" And who also,
we may add, has not enough of the generalizing
faculty, often mistaken for a philosophical one, to
extend this condemnation over the whole of this
best of all possible worlds"? But what is this
"ought-to-be," which has such potency in it that
all things confronted with it lose their worth?
""
The first answer is, that it is an idea which men,
and particularly good men, carry with them. But
a little consideration will show that it cannot be
a mere idea. It must be something more valid
than a capricious product of the individual imagina-
tion. For we cannot wisely condemn things because
they do not happen to answer to any casual con-
ception which we may choose to elevate into a
criterion. A criterion must have objective validity.
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ROBERT BROWNING.
UNIN
It must be an idea of something and not an empty
notion; and that something must, at the worst,
be possible. Nay, when we consider all that is in-
volved in it, it becomes obvious that a true ideal-
an ideal which is a valid criterion-must be not
only possible but real, and, indeed, more real than
that which is condemned by reference to it. Abso-
lute pessimism has in it the same contradiction as
absolute scepticism has,-in fact, it is only its
practical counterpart; for both scepticism and pessi-
mism involve the assumption that it is possible to
reach a position outside the realm of being, from
which it may be condemned as a whole. But the rift
between actual and ideal must fall within the real
or intelligible world, do what the pessimists will;
and a condemnation of man which is not based on
a principle realized by humanity, is a fiction of
abstract thought, which lays stress on the actuality
of the imperfect and treats the perfect as if it were
as good as nothing, which it cannot be. In other
words, this way of regarding human life isolates
the passing phenomenon, and does not look to that
which reveals itself in it and causes it to pass away.
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Confining ourselves, however, for the present, to
the ideal in morality, we can easily see that, in
that sphere at least, the actual and ideal change
places; and that the latter contrasts with the former
as the real with the phenomenal. For, in the first
place, the moral ideal is something more than a
mere idea not yet realized. It is more even than a
true idea; for no mere knowledge, however true,
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
141
has such intimate relation to the self-consciousness
of man as his moral ideal. A mathematical axiom,
and the statement of a physical law, express what
is true; but they do not occupy the same place in
our mind as a moral principle. Such a principle is
an ideal, as well as an idea. It is an idea which has
causative potency in it. It supplies motives, it is
an incentive to action, and, though in one sense
a thing of the future, it is also the actual spring and
source of present activity. In so far as the agent
acts, as Kant put it, not according to laws, but
according to an idea of law (and a responsible agent
always acts in this manner), the ideal is as truly
actualized in him as the physical law is actualized
in the physical fact, or the vegetable life in the
plant. In fact, the ideal of a moral being is his life.
All his actions are its manifestations. And, just
as the physical fact is not seen as it really is, nor
its reality proved, till science has penetrated through
the husk of the sensuous phenomenon, and grasped
it in thought as an instance of a law; so an in-
dividual's actions are not understood, and can have
no moral meaning whatsoever, except in the light
of the purpose which gave them being. We know
the man only when we know his creed. His reality
is what he believes in; that is, it is his ideal.
Castle pho
It is the consciousness that the ideal is the real
which explains the fact of contrition. To become
morally awakened is to become conscious of the
¨vanity and nothingness of the past life, as confronted
`with the new ideal implied in it. The past life is
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142
ROBERT BROWNING.
something to be cast aside as false show, just
because the self that experienced it was not realized
in it. It is for this reason that the moral agent sets
himself against it, and desires to annihilate all its
claims upon him by undergoing its punishment,
and drinking to the dregs its cup of bitterness.
Thus his true life lies in the realization of his ideal,
and his advance towards it is his coming to himself.
Only in attaining to it does he attain reality, and
the only realization possible for him in the present
is just the consciousness of the potency of the
ideal. To him to live is to realize his ideal. It is
a power that irks, till it finds expression in moral
habits that accord with its nature, i.e., till the
spirit has, out of its environment, created a body
adequate to itself.
The condemnation of self which characterizes
all moral life and is the condition of moral progress,
must not, therefore, be regarded as a complete
truth. For the very condemnation implies the
actual presence of something better. Both of the
terms-both the criterion and the fact which is
condemned by it-fall within the same individual
life. Man cannot, therefore, without injustice, con-
demn himself in all that he is; for the condemna-
tion is itself a witness to the activity of that good
of which he despairs. Hence, the threatening
majesty of the moral imperative is nothing but the
shadow of man's own dignity; and moral contrition,
and even the complete despair of the pessimistic
theory, when rightly understood, are recognized as
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
143
unwilling witnesses to the authority and the actuality
of the highest good. And, on the other hand, the
highest good cannot be regarded as a mere phantom,
without nullifying all our condemnation of the self
and the world.
The legitimate deduction from the height of man's
moral ideal is thus found to be, not, as Carlyle
thought, the weakness and worthlessness of human
nature, but its promise and native dignity and in
a healthy moral consciousness it produces, not
despair, but faith and joy. For, as has been already
suggested in a previous chapter, the authority of
the moral law over man is rooted in man's endow-
ment. Its imperative is nothing but the voice of
the future self, bidding the present self aspire, while
its reproof is only the expression of a moral aspira-
tion which has misunderstood itself. Contrition is
not a bad moral state which should bring despair,
but a good state, full of promise of one that is still
better. It is, in fact, just the first step which
the ideal takes in its process of self-realization:
the sting that bids nor sit, nor stand, but go!"
The moral ideal thus, like every other ideal, even
that which we regard as present in natural life,
contains a certain guarantee of its own fulfilment.
It is essentially an active thing, an energy, a move-
ment upwards. It may, indeed, be urged that the
guarantee is imperfect. Ideals tend to self-realiza-
tion, but the tendency may remain unfulfilled.
Men have some ideals which they never reach, and
others which, at first sight at least, it were better
144
ROBERT BROWNING.
""
for them not to reach. The goal may never be
attained, or it may prove a ruin like the rest."
And, as long as man is moral, the ideal is not, and
Morality necessarily. im-
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plies a rift within human nature, a contradiction
between what is and what ought to be; although
neither the rift nor the contradiction is absolute.
There might seem for this reason to be no way of
bringing optimism and ethics together, of recon-
ciling what is and what ought to be.
******
My answer to these difficulties must at this stage
be very brief and incomplete. That the moral good,
if attained, should itself prove vain is a plain self-
contradiction. For moral good has no meaning ex-
cept in so far as it is conceived as the highest good.
The question, "Why should I be moral," has no
answer, because it is self-contradictory. The moral
ideal contains its justification in itself, and requires
to lean on nothing else.
*
al
But it is not easy to prove that it is attainable.
In one sense it is not attainable, at least under
the conditions of human life which fall within our
experience, from which alone we have a right to
speak. For, as I shall strive to show in a succeed-
ing chapter, the essence of man's life as spiritual,
that is as intelligent and moral, is its self-realizing
activity. Intellectual and moral life is progress,
although it is the progress of an ideal which is
real and complete, the return of the infinite to itself
through the finite. The cessation of the progress
of the ideal in man, whereby man interprets the
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
145
world in terms of himself and makes it the instru-
ment of his purposes, is intellectual and moral
death. From. one point of view, therefore, this
spiritual life, or moral and intellectual activity, is
inspired at every step by the consciousness of a
beyond" not possessed, of an unsolved contradic-
tion between the self and the not-self, of a good that
ought to be and is not. The last word, or rather
the last word but one, regarding man is “failure."
""
'
J
But failure is the last word but one, as the poet
well knew. "What's come to perfection perishes,'
he tells us. From this point of view the fact that
perfection is not reached, merely means that the
process is not ended. It seethes with the morrow
for us and more." The recognition of failure im-
plies more effort and higher progress, and contains a
suggestion of an absolute good, and even a proof
of its active presence. "The beyond," for know-
Tedge and morality, is the Land of Promise. And
the promise is not a false one; for the "land" is
possessed. The recognition of the fact to be known,
the statement of the problem, is the first step in its
solution; and the consciousness of the moral ideal
not attained is the first step in its self-actualizing
progress. Had man not come so far, he would
not have known the further difficulty, or recognized
the higher good. To say that the moral ideal is
never attained, is thus only a half-truth. We must
add to it the fact that it is always being attained;
nay, that it is always present as an active reality,
attaining itself, evolving its own content. Or, to
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146
ROBERT BROWNING.
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return to the previous metaphor, the land of promise
is possessed, although the possession always reveals
a still better beyond, which is again a land of promise.
While, therefore, it must always remain true that
knowledge does not reach absolute reality, nor
morality absolute goodness, this cannot be used as
an argument against optimism, except on the pre-
supposition that mental and moral activity are a
disease. And this is a contradiction in terms. If
the ideal is in itself good, the process whereby it is
attained is good; if the process in itself is evil, the
ideal it seeks is evil, and therefore the condemnation
of the actual by reference to it is absurd. And, on
the other hand, to postulate as best the identity of
ideal and actual, so that no process is necessary,
is to assume a point of view where both optimism
and pessimism are meaningless, for there is no
criterion. As Aristotle teaches us, we have no
right either to praise or to blame the highest. A
process, such as morality is, which is not the self-
manifestation of an actual idea, and an ideal which
does not reveal its potencies in its passing forms,
are both fictions of one-sided thought. The process
is not the ideal, but its manifestation; and the
ideal is not the process, but the principle which is
its source and guide.
114.
- JOIESTI LM
"
But if the process cannot be thus immediately
identified with the ideal, or man take the place of
God," or "human self-consciousness be confused
with the absolute self-consciousness," far less can
they be separated. The infinitely high ideal of
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OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
147
perfect knowledge and perfect goodness, implied in
the Christian command, "Be ye perfect as your
Father in heaven is perfect," is an ideal, just because
the unity of what is and what ought to be is deeper
than their difference. The recognition of the limit
of our knowledge, or the imperfection of our moral
character, is a direct witness to the fact that there.
is more to be known and a better to be achieved.
The negative implies the affirmative, and is its
effect. Man's confession of the limitation of his
knowledge is made on the supposition that the
universe of facts, in all its infinitely rich complexity,
is meant to be known; and his confession of moral
imperfection is made by reference to a good which
is absolute, and which yet may be and ought to
be his. The good in morality is necessarily supreme
and perfect. A good that is merely human,"
"relative to man's nature," in the sense of not being
true goodness, is a phantom of confused thinking.
Morality demands "the good," and not a simulacrum
or make-shift. The distinction between right and
wrong, and with it all moral aspiration, contrition,
and repentance, would otherwise become meaning-
less. What can a seeming good avail to a moral
agent? There is no better or worse among merely
apparent excellencies, and of phantoms it matters
not which is chosen. And, in a similar way, the
distinction between true and false in knowledge,
and the common condemnation of human knowledge
as merely of phenomena, implies the absolute unity
of thought and being, and the knowledge of that
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​148
BROWNING.
ROBERT
unity as a fact. There is no true or false amongst
merely apparent facts.
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But, if the ideal of man as a spiritual being is
conceived as perfect, then it follows not only that its
attainment is possible, but that it is necessary. The
guarantee of its own fulfilment which an ideal carries
with it as an ideal, that is, as a potency in process
of fulfilment, becomes complete when that ideal is
absolute. "If God be for us, who can be against
us?" The absolute good, in the language of Emer-
son, is "too good not to be true.' If such an
ideal be latent in the nature of man, it brings the
order of the universe over to his side. For it im-
plies a kinship between him, as a spiritual being,
and the whole of existence. The stars in their
courses fight for him. In other words, the moral
ideal means nothing, if it does not imply a law which
is universal. It is a law which exists already,
whether man recognizes it or not; it is the might
in things, a law of which "no jot or tittle can in any
wise pass away." The individual does not institute
the moral law; he finds it to be written both within
His part is to recognize, not to
create it; to make it valid in his own life and so to
identify himself with it, that his service of it may
be perfect freedom.
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We thus conclude that morality, and even the
self-condemnation, contrition, and consciousness
of failure which it brings with it as phases of
its growth, are witnesses of the presence, and
the actual product of an absolute good in man.
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
149
KË
Morality, in other words, rests upon, and is the
self-evolution of the religious principle in man.
B
we can get a great, g
A similar line of proof would show that religion
implies morality. An absolute good is not con-
ceivable, except in relation to the process whereby
it manifests itself. In the language of theology, we
may say that God must create and redeem the
world in order to be God; or that creation and
redemption, the outflow of the universe from God
as its source, and its return to Him through the sal-
vation of mankind,—reveal to us the nature of God.
Apart from this outgoing of the infinite to the finite
and its return to itself through it, the name God
would be an empty word, signifying a something un-
intelligible dwelling in the void beyond the realm.
of being. But religion, as we have seen, is the
recognition not of an unknown but of the absolute
good as real; the joyous consciousness of the
presence of God in all things. And morality, in
that it is the realization of an ideal which is perfect,
is the process whereby the absolute good actualizes
itself in man. It is true that the ideal cannot be
identified with the process; for it is the principle
of the process, and therefore more than it. Man
does not reach "the last term of development,"
for there is no last term to a being whose essence
is progressive activity. He does not therefore take
the place of God, and his self-consciousness is never
the absolute self-consciousness. But still, in so
far as his life is a progress towards the true and
good, it is the process of truth and goodness within
dig
150
ROBERT BROWNING.
him. It is the activity of the ideal. It is God
lifting man up to Himself, or, in the language of
philosophy, "returning to Himself in history."
And yet it is at the same time man's effort after
goodness. Man is not a mere vessel of divine
grace," or a passive recipient of the highest bounty.
All man's goodness is necessarily man's achieve-
ment. And the realization by the ideal of itself
is man's achievement of it. For it is his ideal.
The law without is also the law within. It is the
law within because it is recognized as the law with-
out. Thus, the moral consciousness passes into
the religious consciousness. The performance of
duty is the willing service of the absolute good;
and, as such, it involves also the recognition of a
purpose that cannot fail. It is both activity and
faith, both a struggle and a consciousness of victory,
both morality and religion. We cannot, therefore,
treat these as alternative phases of man's life.
There is not first the pain of the moral struggle, and
then the joy and rest of religion. The meat and
drink is to do the will of Him that sent Me, to
finish His work." Heaven is the service of the
good. There is nothing in the world or out of it
that can be called unconditionally good, except the
good will." The process of willing-the moral
activity-is its own reward; "the only jewel that
shines in its own light."
""
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It may seem to some to be presumptuous thus
to identify the divine and the human; but to
separate them makes both morality and religion
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
151
impossible. It robs morality of its ideal, and
makes God a mere name for the "unknown." Those
who think that this identification degrades the
divine, misapprehend the nature of spirit; and
forget that it is of its essence to communicate
itself. And goodness and truth do not become
less when shared; they grow greater. Spiritual
possessions imply community wherein there is no
exclusion; and to the Christian the glory of God
is His communication of Himself. Hence the so-
called religious humility, which makes God different
in nature from His work, really degrades the object
of its worship. It puts mere power above the
gifts of spirit, and it indicates that the worshipper
has not been emancipated from the slavishness,
which makes a fetish of its God. Such a religion is
not free, and the development of man destroys it.
"I never realized God's birth before-
How He grew likest God in being born." *
The intense love of the young mother drew the
divine and the human together, and set at nought
the contrast which prose ever draws between them.
This thought of the unity of God and man is one
which has frequent utterance from the poet when
his religious spirit is most deeply moved; for it is
the characteristic of religious feeling that it abol-
ishes all sense of separation. It removes all the
limitations of finitude and lifts man into rapturous
unity with the God he adores; and it gives such
* The Ring and the Book-Pompilia, 1690-1691.
152
ROBERT BROWNING.
completeness to his life that it seems to him to
be a joyous pulse of the life that is absolute. The
feeling of unity may be an illusion. This we cannot
discuss here; but, in any case, it is a feeling essential
to religion. And the philosophy which seeks to lift
this feeling into clear consciousness and to account
for its existence, cannot but recognize that it implies
and presupposes the essential' affinity of the divine
nature with the nature of man.
****
Thus, both from the side of morality and from
that of religion, we are brought to recognize the
unity of God with man as a spiritual being. The
moral ideal is man's idea of perfection, that is, his
idea of God. While theology and philosophy are
often occupied with the vain task of bridging a
chasm between the finite and the infinite, which
they assume to be separated, 'the supreme facts of
the life of man as a spirit spring from their unity.
In other words, morality and religion are but dif-
ferent manifestations of the same principle. The
good that man effects is, at the same time, the
working of God within him. The activity that man
is,
"tending up,
Holds, is upheld by, God, and ends the man
Upward in that dread point of intercourse
Nor needs a place, for it returns to Him.
""
"God, perchance,
Grants each new man, by some as new a mode,
Inter-communication with Himself
Wreaking on finiteness infinitude.” †
* A Death in the Desert.
† Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
OPTIMISM AND ETHICS.
153
And while man's moral endeavour is thus recog-
nized as the activity of God within him, it is also
implied that the divine being can be known only as
revealed, and incarnated, if one may so say, in a
perfect human character. It was a permanent
conviction of Browning, that
"the acknowledgment of God in Christ
Accepted by thy reason, solves for thee
All questions in the earth and out of it."
So far from regarding the Power in the world which
makes for righteousness, as not-ourselves," as
Matthew Arnold did in his haste, that Power is
known to be the man's true self and more, and
morality is the gradual process whereby its content
is evolved. And man's state of perfection, which is
symbolized for the intelligent by the term Heaven,
is, for Browning,
(c
"The equalizing, ever and anon,
In momentary rapture, great with small,
Omniscience with intelligency, God
With man-the thunder glow from pole to pole
Abolishing blissful moment-space,
Great clo
As S
¨nd small cloud, in one fire-
as sure again to flow
WI e new receptivity deserves
TE ew completion." *

Thus, therefore, does the poet wed the divine
strength with human weakness; and the principle
of unity, thus conceived, gives him at once his
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
154
ROBERT BROWNING.
moral strenuousness and that ever present fore-
taste of victory, which we may call his religious
optimism,
Whether this principle receives adequate ex-
pression from the poet, we shall inquire in the
next chapter. For on this depends its worth as a
solution of the enigma of man's moral life.
·
CHAPTER VI.
BROWNING'S TREATMENT OF THE PRINCIPLE
OF LOVE.
“God! Thou art Love! I build my faith on that!” *
T may be well before going further to gather
together the results so far reached.
Browning was aware of the conflict of the re-
ligious and moral consciousness, but he did not
hesitate to give to each of them its most uncom-
promising utterance. And it is on this account that
he is instructive; for, whatever may be the value of
compromise in practical affairs, there is no doubt
that it has never done anything to advance human
thought. His religion is an optimistic faith, a
peaceful consciousness of the presence of the highest
in man, and therefore in all other things. Yet he
does not hesitate to represent the moral life as a
struggle with evil, and a movement through error
towards a highest good which is never finally
realized. He sees that the contradiction is not
an absolute one, but that a good man is always
* Paracelsus.
156
ROBERT BROWNING.
both moral and religious, and, in every good act
he does, transcends their difference. He knew
that the ideal apart from the process is nothing,
and that "a God beyond the stars" is simply the
unknowable. But he knew, too, that the ideal is
not merely the process, but also that which starts
the process, guides it, and comes to itself through
it. God, emptied of human elements, is a mere
name; but, at the same time, the process of human
evolution does not exhaust the idea of God. The
process by itself, i.e., mere morality, is a conception
of a fragment, a fiction of abstract thought; it is a
movement which has no beginning or end; and in
it neither the head nor the heart of man could find
contentment. He is driven by ethics into philos-
ophy, and by morality into religion.
It was in this way that Browning found himself
compelled to trace back the moral process to its
origin, and to identify the moral law with the
nature of God. It is this that gives value to his
view of moral progress, as reaching beyond death to a
higher stage of being, for which man's attainments
in this life are only preliminary.
"What's time? Leave Now for dogs and apes,
Man has Forever." *
There are other "adventures brave and new for
man, "more lives yet," other ways of warfare, other
depths of goodness and heights of love. The poet
lifts the moral ideal into infinitude, and removes
* Grammarian's Funeral.
"
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
157
all limits to the possibility and necessity of being
good. Nay, the process itself is good. Moral
activity is its own bountiful reward; for moral
progress, which means struggle, is the best thing
in the world or out of it. To end such a process,
to stop that activity, were therefore evil. But it
cannot end, for it is the self-manifestation of the
divine life. There is plenty of way to make, for
the ideal is absolute goodness. The process cannot
exhaust the absolute, and it is impossible that man
should be God. And yet this process is the process
of the absolute, the working of the ideal, the
presence of the highest in man as a living power
realizing itself in his acts and in his thoughts. And
the absolute cannot fail; not in man, for the
process is the evolution of his essential nature; and
not in the world, for that is but the necessary
instrument of the evolution. By lifting the moral
ideal of man to infinitude, the poet has identified
it with the nature of God, and made it the abso-
lute law of things.
Now, this idea of the identity of the human and
the divine is a perfectly familiar Christian idea.
"Thence shall I, approved
A man, for aye removed
From the developed brute; a God though in the germ.” *
This idea is involved in the ordinary expres-
sions of religious thought. But, nevertheless, both
theology and philosophy shrink from giving to
* Rabbi Ben Ezra.
158
ROBERT BROWNING.
it a clear and unembarrassed utterance. Instead of
rising to the sublime boldness of the Nazarene
Teacher, they set up prudential differences between
God and man-differences not of degree only but
of nature; and, in consequence, God is reduced
into an unknowable absolute, and man is made
incapable not only of moral, but also of intellectual
life. The poet himself has proved craven-hearted
in this, as we shall see. He, too, sets up insur-
mountable barriers between the divine and the
human, and thereby weakens both his religious and
his moral convictions. His moral inspiration is
greatest just where his religious enthusiasm is most
intense. In Rabbi Ben Ezra, The Death in the
Desert, and The Ring and the Book, there prevails
a constant sense of the community of God and man
within the realm of goodness; and the world
itself, "with its dread machinery of sin and sorrow,"
is made to join the great conspiracy, whose purpose
is at once the evolution of man's character, and the
realization of the will of God.
"So, the All-Great, were the All-Loving too-
So, through the thunder comes a human voice
Saying, 'O heart I made, a heart beats here!
'Face, my hands fashioned, see it in myself!
'Thou hast no power nor may'st conceive of mine,
'But love I gave thee, with myself to love,
'And thou must love Me who have died for thee.'"*
But, if we follow Browning's thoughts in his later
and more reflective poems, such as Ferishtah's
* An Epistle from Karshish.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
159 €
Fancies for instance, it will not be possible to hold
that the poet altogether realized the importance
for both morality and religion alike, of the idea of
the actual immanence of God in man. In these
poems he seems to have abandoned it in favour of
the hypotheses of a more timid philosophy. But,
if his religious faith had not been embarrassed by
certain dogmatic presuppositions of which he could
not free himself, he might have met more successfully
some of the difficulties which later reflection revealed
to him, and might have been able to set a true value
on that "philosophy," which betrayed his faith
while appearing to support it.
But, before trying to criticize the principle by
means of which Browning sought to reconcile the
moral and religious elements of human life, it may
be well to give it a more explicit and careful state-
ment.

What, then, is that principle of unity between
the divine and the human? How can we interpret
the life of man as God's life in man, so that man,
in attaining the moral ideal proper to his own
nature, is at the same time fulfilling ends which
may justly be called divine?
J
The poet, in early life and in late life alike, has
one answer to this question—an answer given with
the confidence of complete conviction. The meeting-
point of God and man is love. Love, in other
words, is, for the poet, the supreme principle both
of morality and religion. Love, once for all, solves
that contradiction between them which, both in
тбо
ROBERT BROWNING.
*
theory and in practice, has embarrassed the world'
for so many ages. Love is the sublimest concep-
tion attainable by man; a life inspired by it is the
most perfect form of goodness he can conceive;
therefore, love is, at the same moment, man's
moral ideal, and the very essence of Godhood. A
life actuated by love is divine, whatever other
limitations it may have. Such is the perfection
and glory of this emotion, when it has been trans-
lated into a self-conscious motive, and become the
energy of an intelligent will, that it lifts him who
owns it to the sublimest height of being.
*
"For the loving worm within its clod,
Were diviner than a loveless God
Amid his worlds, I will dare to say.
""
So excellent is this emotion that, if man, who has
this power to love, did not find the same power in
God, then man would excel Him, and the creature
and Creator change parts.
"Do I find love so full in my nature, God's ultimate gift,
That I doubt His own love can compete with it? Here, the
parts shift ?
Here, the creature surpass the Creator,—the end what Began?” †
Not so, says David, and with him no doubt the
poet himself. God is Himself the source and ful-
ness of love.
"'Tis Thou, God, that givest, 'tis I who receive :
In the first is the last, in Thy will is my power to believe.'
All's one gift."
* Christmas Eve.
† Saul.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
161
"Would I suffer for him that I love? So would'st Thou,-so
wilt Thou!
So shall crown Thee, the topmost, ineffablest, uttermost crown-
And Thy love fill infinitude wholly, nor leave up nor down
One spot for the creature to stand in !"*
And this same love not only constitutes the nature
of God and the moral ideal of man, but it is also
the purpose and essence of all created being, both
animate and inanimate.
This world's no blot for us,
Nor blank; it means intensely and means good." †
"(
(C
'O world, as God has made it ! All is beauty:
And knowing this is love, and love is duty,
What further may be sought for or declared?"
((
In this world then all's love, yet all's law."
God permits nothing to break through its universal
sway, even the very wickedness and misery of life
are brought into the scheme of good, and, when
rightly understood, reveal themselves as its means.
"I can believe this dread machinery
Of sin and sorrow, would confound me else,
Devised-all pain, at most expenditure
Of pain by Who devised pain-to evolve,
By new machinery in counterpart,
The moral qualities of man-how else ?—
To make him love in turn and be beloved,
Creative and self-sacrificing too,
And thus eventually Godlike.” ‡
The poet thus brings the natural world, the his-
tory of man, and the nature of God, within the
limits of the same conception. The idea of love
† Fra Lippo Lippi
+ The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1375-1383.
* Saul.
6
162
BROWNING.
ROBERT
solves for Browning all the enigmas of human
life and thought.
"The thing that seems
Mere misery, under human schemes,
Becomes, regarded by the light
Of love, as very near, or quite
As good a gift as joy before.” *
Taking Browning's work as a whole, it is scarcely
possible to deny that this is at once the supreme
motive of his art, and the principle on which
his moral and religious doctrine rests. He is
always strong and convincing when he is dealing
with this theme. It was evidently his own deepest
conviction, and it gave him the courage to face the
evils of the world, and the power as an artist to
"contrive his music from its moans." It plays, in
his philosophy of life, the part that Reason fills for
Hegel, or the Blind Will for Schopenhauer; and
he is as fearless as they are in reducing all phenom-
ena into forms of the activity of his first principle.
Love not only gave him firm footing amid the wash
and welter of the present world, where time spins
fast, life fleets, and all is change, but it made him
look forward with joy to "the immortal course
for, to him, all the universe is love-woven. All life
is but treading the "love-way," and no wanderer
can finally lose it. "The way-faring men, though
fools, shall not err therein.'
""
Since love has such an important place in Brown-
ing's theory of life, it is necessary to see what
he means by it. For love has had for different
* Easter Day.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
163
individuals, ages and nations, a very different
significance; and almost every great poet has given
it a different interpretation. And this is not un-
natural. For love is a passion which, beginning
with youth and the hey-day of the blood, expands
with the expanding life, and takes new forms of
beauty and goodness at every stage. And this is
equally true, whether we speak of the individual
or of the human race.
Love is no accident in man's history, nor a pass-
ing emotion. It is rather a constitutive element
of man's nature, fundamental and necessary as his
intelligence. And, like everything native and con-
stitutive, it is obedient to the law of evolution,
which is the law of man's being; and it passes,
therefore, through ever varying forms. To it-if
we may for the moment make a distinction between
the theoretical and practical life, or between ideas
and their causative potency-must be attributed
the constructive power which has built the world
of morality, with its intangible but most real rela-
tions which bind man to man and age to age. It
is the author of the organic institutions which,
standing between the individual and the rudeness
of nature, awaken in him the need, and give him
the desire and the faculty, of attaining higher
things than physical satisfaction. Man is meant to
act as well as to think, to be virtuous as well as to
have knowledge. It is possible that reverence for
the intellect may have led men, at times, to attri-
bute the evolution of the race too exclusively to
164
ROBERT BROWNING.
the theoretic consciousness, forgetting that, along
with reason, there co-operates a twin power in all
that is wisest and best in us, and that a heart
which can love, is as essential a pre-condition of all
worthy attainment, as an intellect which can see.
Love and reason* are equally primal powers in
man, and they reflect might into each other: for love
increases knowledge, and knowledge love. It is their
combined power that gives interest and meaning to
the facts of life, and transmutes them into a moral
and intellectual order. They, together, are lifting
man out of the isolation and chaos of subjectivity
into membership in a spiritual kingdom, where col-
lision and exclusion are impossible, and all are at
once kings and subjects.
And, just as reason is present as a transmuting
power in the sensational life of the infancy of the
individual and race, so is love present amidst the
confused and chaotic activity of the life that knows
no law other than its own changing emotions. Both
make for order, and both grow with it. Both love
and reason have travelled a long way in the history
of man. The patriot's passion for his country, the
enthusiasm of pity and helpfulness towards all
suffering which marks the man of God, are as far
removed from the physical attraction of sex for
sex, and the mere liking of the eye and ear, as is
the intellectual power of the sage from the vulpine
-
* It would be more correct to say the reason that is loving or
the love that is rational; for, though there is distinction, there
is no dualism.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
165
cunning of the savage. "For," as Emerson well
said, "it is a fire that, kindling its first embers in
the narrow nook of a private bosom, caught from a
wandering spark out of another heart, glows and
enlarges until it warms and beams upon multitudes
of men and women, upon the universal heart of all,
and so lights up the world and all nature with its
generous flames." Both love and reason alike pass
through stage after stage, always away from the
particularity of selfishness and ignorance, into larger
and larger cycles of common truth and goodness,
towards the full realization of knowledge and be-
nevolence, which is the inheritance of emancipated
man. In this transition, the sensuous play of feeling
within man, and the sensitive responses to external
stimuli, are made more and more organic to ends
which are universal, that is, to spiritual ends. Love,
which in its earliest form, seems to be the natural
yearning of brute for brute, appearing and dis-
appearing at the suggestion of physical needs,
passes into an idealized sentiment, into an emotion
of the soul, into a principle of moral activity which
manifests itself in a permanent outflow of helpful
deeds for man. It represents, when thus sub-
limated, one side at least of the expansion of the
self, which culminates when the world beats in the
pulse of the individual, and the joys and sorrows,
the defeats and victories of mankind are felt by him
as his own. It is no longer dependent merely on
the incitement of youth, grace, beauty, whether of
body or character; it transcends all limitations of
166
ROBERT BROWNING.
sex and age, and finds objects on which it can
spend itself in all that God has made, even in
that which has violated its own law of life and
become mean and pitiful. It becomes a love of
fallen humanity, and an ardour to save it by be-
coming the conscious and permanent motive of all
men. The history of this evolution of love has
been written by the poets. Every phase through
which this ever-deepening emotion has passed,
every form which this primary power has taken in
its growth, has received from them its own proper
expression. They have made even the grosser
instincts lyric with beauty; and, ascending with
their theme, they have sung the pure passion of soul
for soul, its charm and its strength, its idealism
and heroism, up to the point at which, in Browning,
it transcends the limits of finite existence, sheds all
its earthly vesture, and becomes a spiritual principle
of religious aspiration and self-surrender to God.
Browning nowhere shows his native strength more
clearly than in his treatment of love. He has
touched this world-old theme-which almost every
poet has handled, and handled in his highest
manner-with that freshness and insight, which is
possible only to the inborn originality of genius.
Other poets have, in some ways, given to love a
more exquisite utterance, and rendered its sweetness,
and tenderness, and charm with a lighter grace.
It may even be admitted that there are poets
whose verses have echoed more faithfully the fer-
vour and intoxication of passion, and who have
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
167
shown greater power of interpreting it in the light
of a mystic idealism. But, in one thing, Browning
stands alone. He has given to love a moral signifi-
cance, a place and power amongst those substantial
elements on which rest the dignity of man's being
and the greatness of his destiny, in a way which is,
I believe, without example in any other poet. And
he has done this by means of that moral and
religious earnestness, which pervades all his poetry.
The one object of supreme interest to him is the de-
velopment of the soul, and his penetrative insight
revealed to him the power to love as the paramount
fact in that development. To love, he repeatedly
tells us, is the sole and supreme object of man's
life; it is the one lesson which he has to learn
on earth; and, love once learnt, in what way
matters little, "it leaves completion in the soul.
Love we dare not, and, indeed, cannot absolutely
miss. No man can be absolutely selfish and be man.
+4-161
ور
"Beneath the veriest ash, there hides a spark of soul
Which, quickened by love's breath, may yet pervade the whole
O' the grey, and, free again, be fire; of worth the same,
Howe'er produced, for, great or little, flame is flame.
"> *
Love, once evoked, once admitted into the soul,
"adds worth to worth,
As wine enriches blood, and straightway sends it forth,
Conquering and to conquer, through all eternity,
That's battle without end." †
This view of the significance of love grew on Brown-
* Fifine at the Fair, xliii.
† Ibid. liv.
168
ROBERT BROWNING.
ing as his knowledge of man's nature and destiny
became fuller and deeper, while, at the same time,
his trust in the intellect became less. Even in
Paracelsus he reveals love, not as a sentiment or
intoxicating passion, as one might expect from a
youthful poet, but as one of the great fundamental
faculties" of man. Love," blind, oft-failing, half-
enlightened, often-chequered trust," though it be,
still makes man
"The heir of hopes too fair to turn out false.”
In that poem, love is definitely lifted by the poet
to the level of knowledge. Intellectual gain, apart
from love, is folly and futility, worthless for the
individual and worthless to the race. Mind is
nothing but disease," Paracelsus cries in the bitter-
ness of his disappointment," and natural health is
ignorance"; and he asks of the mad poet who
"loved too rashly,'
""
"C
""
"Are we not halves of one dissevered world,
Whom this strange chance unites once more? Part? Never!
Till thou the lover, know; and I, the knower,
Love-until both are saved.” *
And, at the end of the poem, Paracelsus, coming to
an understanding with himself as to the gain and
loss of life, proclaims with his last strength the
truth he had missed throughout his great career,
namely, the supreme worth of love.
* Paracelsus.
17
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
169
“I saw Aprile-my Aprile there !
And as the poor melodious wretch disburthened
His heart, and moaned his weakness in my ear,
I learned my own deep error; love's undoing
Taught me the worth of love in man's estate,
And what proportion love should hold with power
In his right constitution; love preceding
Power, and with much power, always much more love;
Love still too straitened in his present means,
And earnest for new power to set love free."
As long as he hated men, or, in his passionate
pursuit of truth, was indifferent to their concerns,
it was not strange that he saw no good in men
and failed to help them. Knowledge without love
is not true knowledge, but folly and weakness.
But, great as is the place given to love in Para-
celsus, it is far less than that given to it in the
poet's later works. In Ferishtah's Fancies and La
Saisiaz it is no longer rivalled by knowledge; nor
even in Easter Day, where the voice beside the poet
proclaiming that
"Life is done,
Time ends, Eternity's begun,"
gives a final pronouncement upon the purposes of
the life of man. The world of sense of beauty and
art, of knowledge and truth, are given to man, but
none of them satisfy his spirit; they merely sting
with hunger for something better. Deficiency
gapes every side," till love is known as the essence
and worth of all things.
""
"Is this thy final choice?
Love is the best? 'Tis somewhat late!
And all thou dost enumerate
170
ROBERT BROWNING.
Of power and beauty in the world,
The righteousness of love was curled
Inextricably round about.
Love lay within it and without,
To clasp thee,—but in vain! Thy soul
Still shrunk from Him who made the whole,
Still set deliberate aside
His love!-Now take love! Well betide
Thy tardy conscience ! " *
In his later reflective poems, in which he deals with
the problems of life. in the spirit of a metaphy-
sician, seeking a definite answer to the questions
of the intelligence, he declares the reason for his
preference of love to knowledge. In La Saisiaz
he states that man's love is God's too, a spark from
His central fire; but man's knowledge is man's
only. Knowledge is finite, limited and tinged with
sense. The truth we reach at best is only truth
for us, relative, distorted. We are for ever kept
from the fact which is supposed to be given; our
intellects play about it; sense and even intellect
itself are interposing media, which we must use, and
yet, in using them, we only fool ourselves with sem-
blances. The poet has now grown so cautious that
he will not declare his own knowledge to be valid
for any other man. David Hume could scarcely be
more suspicious of the human intellect; nor Berke-
ley more surely persuaded of the purely subjective
nature of its attainments. In fact, the latter relied
on human knowledge in a way impossible to
Browning, for he regarded it as the language of
*Easter Day.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
171
spirit speaking to spirit. Out of his experience,
Browning says,
:
"There crowds conjecture manifold,
But, as knowledge, this comes only,-things may be as I behold
Or may not be, but, without me and above me, things there are;
I myself am what I know not-ignorance which proves no bar
To the knowledge that I am, and, since I am, can recognize
What to me is pain and pleasure: this is sure, the rest-sur-
mise." *
""
Thought itself, for aught he knows, may be
afflicted with a kind of colour-blindness; and he
knows no appeal when one affirms "green as grass,"
and another contradicts him with red as grass.
Under such circumstances, it is not strange that
Browning should decline to speak except for him-
self, and that he will
LE
"Nowise dare to play the spokesman for my brothers strong or
weak,"
66
or that he will far less presume to pronounce for
God, and pretend that the truth finds utterance
from lips of clay-
..
Pass off human lisp as echo of the sphere-song out of reach.”
Have I knowledge? Confounded it shrivels at Wisdom laid
bare !
Have I forethought? how purblind, how blank, to the Infinite
Care!
And thus looking within and around me, I ever renew
(With that stoop of the soul, which in bending upraises it too)
The submission of man's nothing-perfect to God's all-complete,
As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to His feet.Ӡ
*La Saisiaz.
† Saul, III.
172
ROBERT BROWNING.
But David finds in himself one faculty so supreme
in worth that he keeps it in abeyance-
66
Lest, insisting to claim and parade in it, wot ye, I worst
E'en the Giver in one gift.-Behold, I could love if I durst !
But I sink the pretension as fearing a man may o'ertake
God's own speed in the one way of love: I abstain for love's
sake." *
This faculty of love, so far from being tainted
with finitude, like knowledge; so far from being
mere man's, or a temporary and deceptive power
given to man for temporary uses, by a Creator who
has another ineffably higher way of loving, as He
has of truth, is itself divine. In contrast with the
activity of love, Omnipotence itself dwindles into
insignificance, and creation sinks into a puny exer-
cise of power. Love, in a word, is the highest
good; and, as such, it has all its worth in itself,
and gives to all other things what worth they have.
God Himself gains the "ineffable crown" by
showing love and saving the weak. It is the
power divine, the central energy of God's being.
Browning never forgets this moral or religious
quality of love. So pure is this emotion to the poet,
"
so perfect in whiteness, that it will not take
pollution; but, ermine-like, is armed from dishonour
by its own soft snow." In the corruptest hearts,
amidst the worst sensuality, love is still a power
divine, making for all goodness. Even when it is
kindled into flame by an illicit touch, and wars
* Saul, III.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
173
against the life of the family, which is its own
product, its worth is supreme. He who has learned
to love in any way, has" caught God's secret."
How he has caught it, whom he loves, whether
or not he is loved in return, all these things
matter little. The paramount question on which
hangs man's fate is, has he learned to love another,
any other, Fifine or Elvire.
She has lost me,
said the unloved lover; "I have gained her. Her
soul's mine."
"}
The supreme worth of love, the mere emotion
itself, however called into activity, secures it against
all taint. No one who understands Browning in
the least, can accuse him of touching with a rash
hand the sanctity of the family; rather he places
it on the basis of its own principle, and thereby
makes for it the strongest defence. Such love as
he speaks of, however irregular its manifestation or
sensuous its setting, can never be confounded with
lust-"hell's own blue tint." It is further removed
from lust even than asceticism. It has not even a
negative attitude towards the flesh; but finds the
flesh to be "stuff for transmuting," and reduces it
to the uses of the spirit. The love which is sung by
Browning is more pure and free, and is set in a
higher altitude than anything that can be reached
by the way of negation. It is a consecration of the
undivided self, so that "soul helps not flesh more,
than flesh helps soul." It is not only a spiritual
and divine emotion, but it also" shows a heart within
blood-tinctured with a veined humanity."
174
ROBERT BROWNING.
..
'Be a God and hold me
With a charm!
Be a man and hold me
With thine arm !
"Teach me, only teach, Love!
As I ought
I will speak thy speech, Love!
Think thy thought-
66
Meet, if thou require it,
Both demands,
Laying flesh and spirit
In thy hands.” *
True love is always an infinite giving, which holds
nothing back. It is a spendthrift, magnificent in
its recklessness, squandering the very essence of
the self upon its object, and by doing so, in the end
enriching the self beyond all counting. For in loving,
the individual becomes re-impersonated in another;
the distinction of Me and Thee is swept away, and
there pulses in two individuals one warm life.
"If two lives join, there is oft a scar
They are one and one with a shadowy third;
One near one is too far.
"A moment after, and hands unseen
Were hanging the night around us fast ;
But we knew that a bar was broken between
Life and life: we were mixed at last
In spite of the mortal screen." †
The throwing down of the limits that wall a man
within himself, the mingling of his own deepest
interests with those of others, always marks love;
† By the Fireside.
* A Woman's Last Word.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
175
be it love of man for maid, parent for child, or
patriot for his country. It opens an outlet into
the pure air of the world of objects, and enables man
to escape from the stuffed and poisonous atmos-
phere of his narrow self. It is a streaming outwards
of the inmost treasures of the spirit, a consecra-
tion of its best activities to the welfare of others.
And when this is known to be the native quality
and quintessence of love, no one can regard it
anywhere, or at any time, as out of place.
"Prize-
lawful or prize-lawless" it is ever a flower, even
though it grow, like the love of the hero of Turf
and Towers, in slime. Lust, fleshly desire, which
has been too often miscalled love, is its worst
perversion. Love spends itself for another, and
seeks satisfaction only in another's good. But
last uses up others for its own worst purposes,
wastes its object, and turns the current of life back
inwards, into the slush and filth of selfish pleasure.
The distinction between love and its perversion,
which is impossible in the naïve life of an animal,
ought to be clear enough to all, and probably is.
Nor should the sexual impulse in human beings
be confused with fleshly desire, and treated as if
it were merely natural, the mere lust of life
common to all living things,-" that strive," as
Spinoza put it, "to persevere in existing." For
there is no purely natural impulse in man; all
that he is, is transfused with spirit, whether he will
or no. He cannot act as a mere animal, because
he cannot leave his rational nature behind him.
""
(C
176
ROBERT BROWNING.
He cannot desire as an innocent brute desires: his
desire is always love or lust. We have as little
right to say that the wisdom of the sage is nothing
but the purblind savagery of a Terra del Fuegian,
as we have to assert that love is nothing but a
sexual impulse. That impulse rather, when its
potency is set free, will show itself, at first con-
fusedly, but with more and more clearness as it
expands, to be the yearning of soul for soul. It
puts us "in training for a love which knows not
sex, nor person, nor partiality; but which seeks
virtue and wisdom everywhere, to the end of in-
creasing virtue and wisdom." The height to
which this passion lifts man, is just what makes
possible the fall into a sensuality and excess of
brutishness, in comparison with which animal life.
is a paradise of innocence.
If this is clearly recognized, many of the idle
questions of casuistry that are sometimes raised
regarding sexual love and marriage will cease to
trouble. For these questions generally presup-
pose the lowest possible view of this passion.
Browning shows us how to follow with serene
security the pure light of the emotion of love,
amidst all the confused lawlessness of lustful
passion, and through all the intricacies of human
character. Love, he thinks, is never illicit, never
unwise, except when it is disloyal to itself; it
never ruins, but always strives to enrich its object.
Bacon quotes with approval a saying “That it is
impossible to love, and to be wise.' Browning
""
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
177
asserts that it is impossible to love and not be
wise. It is a power that, according to the Chris-
tian idea which the poet adopts, has infinite good-
ness for its source, and that, even in its meanest
expression, is always feeling its way back to its
origin, flowing again into the ocean whence it came.
So sparklingly pure is this passion that it
could exorcise the evil and turn old to new, even
in the case of Léonce Miranda. At least Browning,
in this poem, strives to show that, being true love,
though the love of an unclean man for an unclean
woman, it was a power at war with the sordid
elements of that sordid life. Love has always the
same potency, flame is always flame,
"no matter whence flame sprung,
From gums and spice, or else from straw and rottenness.
"Let her but love you,
All else you disregard! what else can be?
You know how love is incompatible
With falsehood-purifies, assimilates
All other passions to itself." †
"
"Ne'er wrong yourself so far as quote the world
And say, love can go unrequited here!
You will have blessed him to his whole life's end-
Low passions hindered, baser cares kept back,
All goodness cherished where you dwelt-and dwell.” ‡
But, while love is always a power lifting a man
upwards to the level of its own origin from what-
ever depths of degradation, its greatest potency can
reveal itself only in characters intrinsically pure,
‡ Ibid.
* Fifine at the Fair, lv. † Colombe's Birthday.
I
178
ROBERT BROWNING.
such as Pompilia and Caponsacchi. Like mercy and
every other spiritual gift, it is mightiest in the
mighty. In the good and great of the earth love
is veritably seen to be God's own energy;
"Who never is dishonoured in the spark
He gave us from His fire of fires, and bade
Remember whence it sprang, nor be afraid
While that burns on, though all the rest grow dark.´* *
It were almost an endless task to recount the ways
in which Browning exhibits the moralizing power
of love how it is for him the quintessence of all
goodness; the motive, and inspiring cause, of every
act in the world that is completely right; and how,
on that account, it is the actual working in the
man of the ideal of all perfection. This doctrine
of love is, in my opinion, the richest vein of pure
ore in Browning's poetry.
1
But it remains to follow briefly our poet's treat-
ment of love in another direction-as a principle
present, not only in God as creative and redeeming
Power, and in man as the highest motive and energy
of the moral life, but also in the outer world, in
the "material" universe. In the view of the poet,
the whole creation is nothing but love incarnate,
a pulsation from the divine heart. Love is the
source of all law and of all beauty. "Day unto
day uttereth speech, and night unto night speaketh
knowledge. There is no speech or language where
their voice is not heard." And our poet speaks
41 at 19 qamah dem
* Any Wife to Any Husband, III.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
179
as if he had caught the meaning of the language,
and believes that all things speak of love-the
love of God.
"I think," says the heroine of the Inn Album,
"Womanliness means only motherhood;
All love begins and ends there,-roams enough,
But, having run the circle, rests at home.” *
And Browning detects something of this motherhood
everywhere. He finds it as
"C Some cause
Such as is put into a tree, which turns
Away from the north wind with what nest it holds." †
The Pope-who, if any one, speaks for Browning-
declares that
'Brute and bird, reptile and the fly,
Ay and, I nothing doubt, even tree, shrub, plant
And flower o' the field, are all in a common pact
To worthily defend the trust of trusts,
Life from the Ever Living." ‡
66
"Because of motherhood," said the minor pope in
Ivan Ivanovitch,
"each male
Yields to his partner place, sinks proudly in the scale :
His strength owned weakness, wit-folly, and courage-fear,
Beside the female proved males's mistress-only here
The fox-dam, hunger-pined, will slay the felon sire
Who dares assault her whelp."
The betrayal of the mother's trust is the
* The Inn Album.
† The Ring and the Book-Canon Caponsacchi, 1374-1376.
The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1076-1081.
"C
un-
180
ROBERT BROWNING.
exampled sin," which scares the world and shames
God.
"I hold that, failing human sense,
The very earth had oped, sky fallen, to efface
Humanity's new wrong, motherhood's first disgrace.'
> *
This instinct of love, which binds brute-parent to
brute-offspring, is a kind of spiritual law in the
natural world: it, like all law, guarantees the con-
tinuity and unity of the world, and it is scarcely
akin to merely physical attraction. No doubt its
basis is physical; it has an organism of flesh and
blood for its vehicle and instrument: but mathe-
matical physics cannot explain it, nor can it be
detected by chemical tests. Rather, with the poet,
we are to regard brute affection as a kind of rude
outline of human love; as a law in nature, which,
when understood by man and adopted as his rule
of conduct, becomes the essence and potency of his
moral life.
Thus Browning regards love as an omnipresent
good. There is nothing, he tells us in Fifine, which
cannot reflect it; even moral putridity becomes
phosphorescent, and sparks from heaven trans-
pierce earth's coarsest covertures."
<<
"There is no good of life but love-but love!
What else looks good, is some shade flung from love,
Love gilds it, gives it worth." † t
There is no fact which, if seen to the heart, will
* Ivàn Ivànovitch.
† In a balcony.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
181
not prove itself to have love for its purpose, and,
therefore, for its substance. And it is on this
account that everything finds its place in a kosmos
and that there is
66
'No detail but, in place allotted it, was prime
And perfect." *
Every event in the history of the world and of
man is explicable, as the bursting into new form
of this elemental, all-pervading power.
The per-
manence in change of nature, the unity in variety,
the strength which clothes itself in beauty, are all
manifestations of love. Nature is not merely
natural; matter and life's minute beginnings, are
more than they seem. Paracelsus said that he knew
and felt
What God is, what we are,
What life is—how God tastes an infinite joy
In finite ways—one everlasting bliss,
From whom all being emanates, all power
Proceeds in whom is life for evermore,
Yet whom existence in its lowest form
Includes." †
<<
The scheme of love does not begin with man,
he is rather its consummation.
<< Whose attributes had here and there
Been scattered o'er the visible world before,
Asking to be combined, dim fragments meant
To be united in some wondrous whole,
Imperfect qualities throughout creation,
Suggesting some one creature yet to make,
Some point where all those scattered rays should meet
Convergent in the faculties of man.
* Fifine at the Fair. xxxi.
† Paracelsus.
182
ROBERT BROWNING.
Hints and previsions of which faculties,
Are strewn confusedly everywhere about
The inferior natures, and all lead up higher,
All shape out divinely the superior race,
The heir of hopes too fair to turn out false,
And man appears at last."*
Power, knowledge, love, all these are found in the
world, in which
"All tended to mankind,
And, man produced, all has its end thus far :
But, in completed man begins anew
A tendency to God." †
For man, being intelligent, flings back his light
on all that went before,
"Illustrates all the inferior grades, explains
Each back step in the circle." ‡
He gives voice to the mute significance of Nature,
and lets in the light on its blind groping.
(6
Man, once descried, imprints for ever
His presence on all lifeless things.'
""
And how is this interpretation achieved? By
penetrating behind force, power, mechanism, and
even intelligence, thinks the poet, to a purpose
which is benevolent, a reason which is all embracing
and rooted in love. The magnificent failure of
Paracelsus came from missing this last step. His
transcendent hunger for knowledge was not satisfied,
not because human knowledge is essentially an
illusion or mind disease, but because his knowledge
† Ibid.
Ibid. 189.
* Paracelsus.
THE PRINCIPLE OF LOVE.
183
did not reach the final truth of things, which is love.
For love alone makes the heart wise, to know the
secret of all being. This is the ultimate hypothesis
in the light of which alone man can catch a glimpse
of the general direction and intent of the universal
movement in the world and man. Dying, Paracelsus,
taught by Aprile, caught a glimpse of this elemental
"love-force," in which alone lies the clue to every
problem, and the promise of the final satisfaction
of the human spirit. Failing in this knowledge, man
may know many things, but nothing truly; for
all such knowledge stays with outward shows. It
is love alone that puts man in the right relation
to his fellows and to the world, and removes the
distortion which fills life with sorrow, and makes it
Only a scene
Of degradation, ugliness and tears,
The record of disgraces best forgotten,
A sullen page in human chronicles
Fit to erase. ***
tr
But in the light of love, man sees a good in evil,
and a hope in ill success," and recognizes that man-
kind are
"
"All with a touch of nobleness, despite
Their error, upward tending all though weak;
Like plants in mines which never saw the sun,
But dream of him, and guess where he may be,
And do their best to climb and get to him.Ӡ
"All this I knew not," adds Paracelsus,
† Ibid.
* Paracelsus.
<<
' and I
184
ROBERT BROWNING.
failed. Let men take the lesson and press this lamp
of love, 'God's lamp, close to their breasts'; its
splendour, soon or late, will pierce the gloom," and
show that the universe is a transparent manifestation
of His beneficence.
5
CHAPTER VII.
BROWNING'S IDEALISM, AND ITS PHILOSOPHICAL
JUSTIFICATION.
66
Master, explain this incongruity!
When I dared question, 'It is beautiful,
But is it true?' thy answer was, 'In truth
Lives Beauty.'"*
E have now seen how Browning sought to
WE explain all things as manifestations of the
principle of love; how he endeavoured to bring all
the variety of finite existence, and even the deep
discrepancies of good and evil, under the sway
of one idea. I have already tried to show that
all human thought is occupied with the same task:
science, art, philosophy, and even the most ordinary
common-sense, are all, in their different ways, seek-
ing for constant laws amongst changing facts. Nay,
we may even go so far as to say that all the
activity of man, the practical as well as the theo-
retical, is an attempt to establish a modus vivendi
between his environment and himself. And such
an attempt rests on the assumption that there is
some ground common to both of the struggling
* Shah Abbas.
186
ROBERT BROWNING.
powers within and without, some principle that
manifests itself both in man and in nature. So
that all men are philosophers to the extent of
postulating a unity, which is deeper than all differ-
ences; and all are alike trying to discover, in how-
ever limited or ignorant a way, what that unity
is. If this fact were more constantly kept in
view, the effort of philosophers to bring the ulti-
mate colligating principles of thought into clear
consciousness would not, at the outset at least, be
regarded with so much suspicion. For the philos-
opher differs from the practical man of the world, not
so much in the nature of the task which he is trying
to accomplish, as in the distinct and conscious pur-
pose with which he enters upon it.
Now, I think that those, who, like Browning, offer
an explicitly optimistic idea of the relation between
man and the world, have a special right to a respect-
ful hearing; for it can scarcely be denied that their
optimistic explanation is invaluable, if it is true-
"So might we safely mock at what unnerves
Faith now, be spared the sapping fear's increase
That haply evil's strife with good shall cease
Never on earth." *
Despair is a great clog to good work for the world,
and pessimists, as a rule, have shown much more
readiness than optimists to let evil have its unim-
peded way. Having found, like Schopenhauer, that
"Life is an awkward business," they "determine to
* Bernard de Mandeville.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 187
spend life in reflecting on it," or at least in moaning
about it. The world's helpers have been men of
another mould; and the contrast between Fichte
and Schopenhauer is suggestive of a general truth :-
"Fichte, in the bright triumphant flight of his
idealism, supported by faith in a moral order of the
world which works for righteousness, turning his
back on the darker ethics of self-torture and
mortification, and rushing into the political and
social fray, proclaiming the duties of patriotism,
idealizing the soldier, calling to and exercising an
active philanthrophy, living with his nation, and
continually urging it upwards to higher levels of
self-realization-Schopenhauer recurring to the idea
of asceticism, preaching the blessedness of the
quiescence of all will, disparaging efforts to save
the nation or elevate the masses, and holding that
each has enough to do in raising his own self from
its dull engrossment in lower things to an absorption
in that pure, passionless being which lies far beyond
all, even the so-called highest, pursuits of practical
life.'
" *
A pessimism, which is nothing more than flippant
fault-finding, frequently gains a cheap reputation
for wisdom; and, on the other hand, an optimism,
which is really the result of much reflection and
experience, may be regarded as the product of a
superficial spirit that has never known the deeper
evils of life. But, if pessimism be true, it differs
from other truths by its uselessness; for, even if it
* Schopenhauer, by Prof. Wallace.
188
ROBERT BROWNING.
saves man from the bitterness of petty disappoint-
ments, it does so only by making the misery uni-
versal. There is no need to specify, when “All is
vanity." The drowning man does not feel the dis-
comfort of being wet. But yet, if we reflect on the
problem of evil, we shall find that there is no
neutral ground, and shall ultimately be driven to
choose between pessimism and its opposite. Nor,
on the other hand, is the suppression of the problem
of evil possible, except at a great cost. It presents
itself anew in the mind of every thinking man;
and some kind of solution of it, or at least some
definite way of meeting its difficulty, is involved
in the attitude which every man assumes towards
life and its tasks.
It is not impossible that there may be as much
to be said for Browning's joy in life and his love
of it, as there is for his predecessor's rage and
sorrow. Browning certainly thought that there
was; and he held his view consistently to the end.
We cannot, therefore, do justice to the poet without
dealing critically with the principle on which he has
based his faith, and observing how far it is appli-
cable to the facts of human life. As I have previously
said, he strives hard to come into fair contact with
the misery of man in all its sadness; and, after doing
so, he claims, not as a matter of poetic sentiment,
but as a matter of strict truth, that good is the heart
and reality of it all. It is true that he cannot
demonstrate the truth of his principle by reference
to all the facts, any more than the scientific man can
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 189
justify his hypothesis in every detail; but he holds
it as a faith which reason can justify and experience
establish, although not in every isolated phenome-
non. The good may, he holds, be seen actually at
work in the world, and its process will be more fully
known, as human life advances towards its goal.
Though Master keep aloof,
Signs of His presence multiply from roof
To basement of the building." *
ઃઃ
Thus Browning bases his view upon experience,
and finds firm footing for his faith in the present;
although he acknowledges that the "profound of
ignorance surges round his rockspit of self-know-
ledge."
Enough that now,
Here where I stand, this moment's me and mine,
Shows me what is, permits me to divine
What shall be." †
""
"Since we know love we know enough"; for in
love, he confidently thinks we have the key to all
the mystery of being.
Now, what is to be made of an optimism of this
kind, which is based upon love and which professes
to start from experience, or to be legitimately and
rationally derived from it ?
If such a view be taken seriously, as I propose
doing, we must be prepared to meet at the outset
with some very grave difficulties. The first of these
is that it is an interpretation of facts by a human
*Francis Furini.
† Ibid.
190
ROBERT BROWNING.
emotion. To say that love blushes in the rose, or
breaks into beauty in the clouds, that it shows its
strength in the storm, and sets the stars in the sky,
and that it is in all things the source of order and
law, may imply a principle of supreme worth both
to poetry and religion; but when we are asked to
take it as a metaphysical explanation of facts, we
are prone, like the judges of Caponsacchi, not to
levity, or to anything indecorous "_
(C
(C
Only-I think I apprehend the mood :
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eye-brow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale; they meant, you know-
'The sly one, all this we are bound believe !
Well, he can say no other than what he says.'"*
We are sufficiently willing to let the doctrine be
held as a pious opinion. The faith that "all's
love yet all's law," like many another illusion, if
not hugged too closely, may comfort man's naked-
ness. But if we are asked to substitute this view
for that which the sciences suggest,—if we are asked
to put "Love" in the place of physical energy,
and, by assuming it as a principle, to regard as
unreal all the infinite misery of humanity and the
degradation of intellect and character from which
it arises, common-sense seems at once to take
the side of the doleful sage of Chelsea. When the
optimist postulates that the state of the world,
* The Ring and the Book-Canon Caponsacchi, 14–20.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 191
were it rightly understood, is completely satisfactory,
reason seems to be brought to a stand; and if
poetry and religion involve such a postulate, they
are taken to be ministering to the emotions at the
expense of the intellect.
Browning, however, was not a mere sentimentalist
who could satisfy his heart without answering the
questions of his intellect. Nor is his view without
support-at least, as regards the substance of it.
The presence of an idealistic element in things is
recognized even by ordinary thought; and no man's
world is so poor that it would not be poorer still
for him, if it were reduced by the abstract sciences
of nature into a mere manifestation of physical force.
Such a world Richter compares to an empty eye-
socket.
The great result of speculation since the time
of Kant is to teach us to recognize that objects are
essentially related to mind, and that the principles
which rule our thought enter, so to speak, into the
constitution of the things we know. A very slight
acquaintance with the history even of psychology,
especially in modern times, shows that facts are
more and more retracted into thought. This science,
which began with a sufficiently common-sense view,
not only of the reality and solidity of the things of
the outer world, but of their opposition to, or inde-
pendence of thought, is now thinning that world
down into a mere shadow-a something which ex-
cites sensation. It shows that external things as we
know them, and we are not concerned in any others,
192
ROBERT BROWNING.
"C
are, to a very great extent, the product of our think-
ing activities. No one will now subscribe to the
Lockian or Humean view, of images impressed by
objects on mind: the object which "impresses" has
first to be made by mind, out of the results of
nervous excitation. In a word, modern psychology
as well as modern metaphysics, is demonstrating
more and more fully the dependence of the world,
as it is known, on the nature and activity of man's
mind. Every explanation of the world is found
to be, in this sense, idealistic; and in this respect,
there is no difference whatsoever between the inter-
pretation given by science and that of poetry, or
religion, or philosophy. If we say that a thing is
a substance," or has "a cause"; if, with the
physicist, we assert the principle of the transmuta-
tion of energy, or make use of the idea of evolution
with the biologist or geologist; nay, if we speak of
time and space with the mathematician, we use
principles of unity derived from self-consciousness,
and interpret nature in terms of ourselves, just as
truly as the poet or philosopher, who makes love, or
reason, the constitutive element in things. If the
practical man of the world charges the poet and
philosopher with living amidst phantoms, he can
be answered with a "Tu quoque.'
How easy,"
said Emerson, "it is to show the materialist that he
also is a phantom walking and working amid phan-
toms, and that he need only ask a question or two
beyond his daily questions to find his solid universe
proving dim and impalpable before his sense.'
""
}}
-
"}
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 193
Sense," which seems to show directly that the
world is a solid reality, not dependent in any way
on thought, is found not to be reliable. All science
is nothing but an appeal to thought from ordinary
sensuous opinion. It is an attempt to find the
reality of things by thinking about them; and this
reality, when it is found, turns out to be a law.
But laws are ideas; though, if they are true ideas,
they represent not merely thoughts in the mind,
but also real principles, which manifest themselves
in the objects of the outer world, as well as in the
thinker's mind.
""
It is not possible in such a work as this, to give a
carefully reasoned proof of this view of the relation of
thought and things, or to repeat the argument of
Kant. I must be content with merely referring to it,
as showing that the principles in virtue of which we
think, are the principles in virtue of which objects as
we know them exist; and we cannot be concerned
with any other objects. The laws which scientific
investigation discovers are not only ideas that can
be written in books, but also principles which explain
the nature of things. In other words, the hypotheses
of the natural sciences, or their categories, are points
of view in the light of which the external world can
be regarded as governed by uniform laws. And
these constructive principles, which lift the other-
wise disconnected world into an intelligible system,
are revelations of the nature of intelligence, and
only on that account principles for explaining the
world.
7
194
ROBERT BROWNING.
"To know,
Rather consists in opening out a way
Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape,
Than in effecting entry for a light
Supposed to be without." *
In this sense, it may be said that all knowledge is
anthropomorphic; and in this respect there is no
difference between the physics, which speaks of
energy as the essence of things, and the poetry,
which speaks of love as the ultimate principle of
reality. Between such scientific and idealistic ex-
planations there is not even the difference that the
one begins without and the other within, or that the
one is objective and the other subjective. The true
distinction is that the principles upon which the
latter proceed are less abstract than those of science.
"Reason" and "love" are higher principles for the
explanation of the nature of things than "substance
or "cause"; but both are forms of the unity of
thought. And if the latter seem to have nothing to
do with the self, it is only because they are inad-
equate to express its full character. On the other
hand, the higher categories, or ideas of reason, seem
to be merely anthropomorphic, and, therefore, ill-
suited to explain nature, because the relation of
nature to intelligence is habitually neglected by
ordinary thought, which has not pressed its prob-
lems far enough to know that such higher cate-
gories can alone satisfy the demand for truth.
""
But natural science is gradually driven from
the lower to the higher categories, or, in other
* Paracelsus.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 195
words, it is learning to take a more and more
idealistic view of nature. It is moving very
slowly, because it is a long labour to exhaust
the uses of an instrument of thought; and it
is only at great intervals in the history of the
human intellect, that we find the need of a
change of categories. But, as already hinted, there
is no doubt that science is becoming increasingly
aware of the conditions, under which alone its
results may be held as valid. At first, it drove
"mind" out of the realm of nature, and offered to
explain both it and man in physical and mathe-
matical terms. But, in our day, the man of science
has become too cautious to make such rash exten-
sions of the principles he uses. He is more
inclined to limit himself to his special field, and he
refuses to make any declaration as to the ultimate
nature of things. He holds himself apart from
materialism, as he does from idealism. I think I
may even go further, and say that the fatal flaw of
materialism has been finally detected, and that the
essential relativity of all objects to thought is all
but universally acknowledged.
The common notion that science gives a com-
plete view of truth, to which we may appeal as re-
futing idealism, is untenable. Science itself will
not support the appeal, but will direct the appel-
lant to another court. Perhaps, rather, it would
be truer to say that its attitude is one of doubt
whether or not any court, philosophical or other,
can give any valid decision on the matter. Con-
196
ROBERT BROWNING.
fining themselves to the region of material pheno-
mena, scientific men generally leave to common
ignorance, or to moral and theological tradition,
all the interests and activities of man, other than
those which are physical or physiological. And
some of them are even aware, that if they could
find the physical equation of man, or, through
their knowledge of physiology, actually produce in
man the sensations, thoughts, and notions now as-
cribed to the intelligent life within him, the ques-
tion of the spiritual or material nature of man
and the world, would remain precisely where it was.
The explanation would still begin with mind and
end there. The principles of the materialistic ex-
planation of the world would still be derived from
intelligence; mind would still underlie all it ex-
plained, and completed science would still be, in
this sense, anthropomorphic. The charge of an-
thropomorphism thus falls to the ground, because
it would prove too much. It is a weapon which
cuts the hand that wields it. And, as directed
against idealism, it only shows that he who uses it
has inadequate notions both of the nature of the
self and of the world, and is not aware that each
gets meaning, only as an exponent of the other.
On the whole, we may say that it is not men
of science who now assail philosophy, because it
gives an idealistic explanation of the world, so
much as unsystematic dabblers in matters of
thought. The best men of science, rather, show a
tendency to acquiesce in a kind of dualism of
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 197
matter and spirit, and to leave morality and re-
ligion, art and philosophy to pursue their own
ends undisturbed. Mr. Huxley, for instance, and
some others, offer two philosophical solutions, one
proceeding from the material world and the other
from the sensations and other facts of conscious-
ness." They say that we may either explain
man as a natural phenomenon, or the world as a
mental one.
(C
But it is a little difficult not to ask which of
these explanations is true. Both of them cannot
well be, seeing that they are different. And neither
of them can be adopted without very serious con-
sequences. It would require considerable hardihood
to suggest that natural science should be swept
away in favour of psychology, which would be done
if the one view held by Mr. Huxley were true. And,
in my opinion, it requires quite as much hardihood
to suggest the adoption of a theory that makes
morality and religion illusory, which would be done
were the other view valid.
As a matter of fact, however, such an attitude
can scarcely be held by any one who is interested
both in the success of natural science and in the
spiritual development of mankind. We are con-
strained rather to say that, if these rival lines of
thought lead us to deny either the outer world of
things, or the world of thought and morality, then
they must both be wrong. They are not "explana-
tions" but false theories, if they lead to such con-
clusions as these. And, instead of holding them up
198
ROBERT BROWNING.
to the world as the final triumph of human thought,
we should sweep them into the dust-bin, and seek
for some better explanation from a new point of
view.
And, indeed, a better explanation is sought, and
sought not only by idealists, but by scientific men
themselves,-did they only comprehend their own
main tendency and method. The impulse towards
unity, which is the very essence of thought, if it is
baulked in one direction by a hopeless dualism, just
breaks out in another. Subjective idealism, that is,
the theory that things are nothing but phenomena
of the individual's consciousness, that the world is
really all inside the philosopher, is now known by
most people to end in self-contradiction; and mate-
rialism is also known to begin with it. And there
are not many people sanguine enough to believe
with Mr. Huxley and Mr. Herbert Spencer, that, if
we add two self-contradictory theories together, or
hold them alternately, we shall find the truth.
Modern science, that is, the science which does not
philosophize, and modern philosophy are with toler-
able unanimity denying this absolute dualism.
They do not know of any thought that is not of
things, or of any things that are not for thought. It
is necessarily assumed that, in some way or other,
the gap between things and thought is got over by
knowledge. How the connection is brought about
may not be known; but, that there is the connec-
tion between real things and true thoughts, no one
can well deny. It is an ill-starred perversity which
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 199
leads men to deny such a connection, merely because
they have not found out how it is established.
A new category of thought has taken possession of
the thought of our time-a category which is fatal
to dualism. The idea of development is breaking
down the division between mind and matter, as it is
breaking down all other absolute divisions. Geology,
astronomy, and physics at one extreme, biology,
psychology, and philosophy at the other, combine in
asserting the idea of the universe as a unity which
is always evolving its content, and bringing its secret
potencies to the light. It is true that these sciences
have not linked hands as yet. We cannot get from
chemistry to biology without a leap, or from physi-
ology to psychology without another. But no one
will postulate a rift right through being. The whole
tendency of modern science implies the opposite of
such a conception. History is striving to trace
continuity between the civilized man and the savage.
Psychology is making towards a junction with
physiology and general biology, biology with chem-
istry, and chemistry with physics. That there is an
unbroken continuity in existence is becoming a
postulate of modern science, almost as truly as the
"universality of law "or" the uniformity of nature."
Nor is the postulate held less firmly because the
evidence for the continuity of nature is not yet
complete. Chemistry has not yet quite lapsed into
physics; biology at present shows no sign of giving
up its characteristic conception of life, and the former
science is as yet quite unable to deal with that
200
ROBERT BROWNING.
peculiar phenomenon. The facts of consciousness
have not been resolved into nervous action, and, so
far, mind has not been shown to be a secretion of
brain. Nevertheless, all these sciences are beating
against the limits which separate them, and new
suggestions of connection between natural life and
its inorganic environment are continually discovered.
The sciences are boring towards each other, and
the dividing strata are wearing thin; so that it
seems reasonable to expect that, with the growth
of knowledge, an unbroken way upwards may be
discovered, from the lowest and simplest stages of
existence to the highest and most complex forms.
of self-conscious life.
Now, to those persons who are primarily interested
in the ethical and religious phenomena of man's life,
the idea of abolishing the chasm between spirit and
nature is viewed with no little apprehension. It is
supposed that if evolution were established as a
universal law, and the unity of being were proved,
the mental and moral life of man would be degraded
into a complex manifestation of mere physical force.
And we even find religious men rejoicing at the
failure of science to bridge the gap between the
inorganic and the organic, and between natural and
self-conscious life; as if the validity of religion de-
pended upon the maintenance of their separating
boundaries. But no religion that is free from super-
stitious elements has anything to gain from the failure
of knowledge to relate things to each other. It is
difficult to see how breaks in the continuity of being
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 201
can be established, when every living plant con-
futes the absolute difference between the organic
and inorganic, and, by the very fact of living, turns
the latter into the former; and it is difficult to deny
the continuity of "mind and matter," when every
human being is relating himself to the outer world
in all his thoughts and actions. And religion is the
very last form of thought which could profit from
such a proof of absolute distinctions, were it possible.
In fact, as we have seen, religion, in so far as it
demands a perfect and absolute being as the object
of worship, is vitally concerned in maintaining the
unity of the world. It must assume that matter, in
its degree, reveals the same principle which, in a
higher form, manifests itself in spirit.
But closer investigation will show that the real
ground for such apprehension does not lie in the
continuity of existence, which evolution implies; for
religion itself postulates the same thing. The appre-
hension springs, rather, from the idea that the con-
tinuity asserted by evolution, is obtained by resolving
the higher forms of existence into the lower. It is
believed that, if the application of development to
facts were successfully carried out, the organic would
be shown to be nothing but complex inorganic forces,
mental life nothing but a physiological process, and
religion, morality, and art, nothing but products
of the highly complex motion of highly complex
aggregates of physical atoms.
It seems to me quite natural that science should
be regarded as tending towards such a materialistic
202
ROBERT BROWNING.
!
conclusion. This is the view which many scientific
investigators have themselves taken of their work;
and some of their philosophical exponents, notably
Mr. Herbert Spencer, have, with more or less in-
consistency, interpreted the idea of evolution in this
manner. But, it may be well to bear in mind that
science is generally far more successful in employing
its constructive ideas, than it is in rendering an
account of them. In fact, it is not its business to
examine its categories: that task properly belongs
to philosophy, and it is not a superfluous one.
But, so long as the employment of the categories
in the special province of a particular science
yields valid results, scientific explorers and those
who attach, and rightly attach, so much value to
their discoveries, are very unwilling to believe that
these categories are not valid universally. The
warning voice of philosophy is not heeded, when it
charges natural science with applying its conceptions
to materials to which they are inadequate; and its
examination of the categories of thought is regarded
as an innocent, but also a useless, activity. For, it
is argued, what good can arise from the analysis of
our working ideas? The world looked for causes,
and found them, when it was very young; but, up
to the time of David Hume, no one had shown
what causality meant, and the explanation which
he offered is now rejected by modern science, as
definitely as it is rejected by philosophy. Meantime,
while philosophy is still engaged in exposing the
fallacies of the theory of association as held by
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 203
Hume, science has gone beyond this category alto-
gether; it is now establishing a theory of the
conservation of energy, which supplants the law of
causality by tracing it into a deeper law of nature.
There is some force in this argument, but it cuts
both ways. For, even if it be admitted that the
category was successfully applied in the past, it is
also admitted that it was applied without being
understood; and it cannot now be questioned that
the philosophers were right in rejecting it as the final
explanation of the relation of objects to each other,
and in pointing to other and higher connecting
ideas. And this consideration should go some way
towards convincing evolutionists that, though they
may be able successfully to apply the idea of de-
velopment to particular facts, this does not guarantee
the soundness of their view of it as an instrument
of thought, or of the nature of the final results which
it is destined to achieve. Hence, without any dis-
paragement to the new extension which science has
received by the use of this new idea, it may be
maintained that the ordinary view of its tendency
and mission is erroneous.
(C
<
"The prevailing method of explaining the world,"
says Professor Caird, may be described as an
attempt to level downwards.' The doctrine of
development, interpreted as that idea usually is in-
terpreted, supports this view, as making it necessary
to trace back higher and more complex to lower
or simpler forms of being; for the most obvious way
of accomplishing this task is to show analytically
204
ROBERT BROWNING.
""
that there is really nothing more in the former
than in the latter."* Divorced from matter,"
asks Professor Tyndall, "where is life to be found?
Whatever our faith may say our knowledge shows
them to be indissolubly joined. Every meal we eat,
and every cup we drink, illustrates the mysterious
control of Mind by Matter. Trace the line of life
backwards and see it approaching more and more
to what we call the purely physical condition.” *
And then, rising to the height of his subject, or even
above it, he proclaims, " By an intellectual necessity
I cross the boundary of the experimental evidence,
and discern in that Matter which we, in our ignor-
ance of its latent powers, and notwithstanding our
professed reverence for its Creator, have hitherto
covered with opprobrium, the promise and potency
of all terrestrial life."* A little further on, speaking
in the name of science, and on behalf of his scientific
fellow-workers (with what right is a little doubtful),
he adds" We claim, and we shall wrest, from
theology, the entire domain of cosmological theory.
All schemes and systems which thus infringe upon
the domain of science, must, in so far as they do
this, submit to its control, and relinquish all thought
of controlling it." But if science is to control the
knowable world, he generously leaves the remainder
for religion. He will not deprive it of a faith in
"a Power absolutely inscrutable to the intellect
* The Critical Philosophy of Kant, Vol. I. p. 34
+ Address to the British Association, 1874, P. 54.
‡ Belfast Address, 1874.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 205
of man. As little in our days as in the days of
Job can a man by searching find this Power out."
And, now that he has left this empty sphere of
the unknown to religion, he feels justified in add-
ing, There is, you will observe, no very rank
materialism here."
((
"Yet they did not abolish the gods, but they sent them well out
of the way,
With the rarest of nectar to drink, and blue fields of nothing
to sway.” *
Now these declarations of Mr. Tyndall are, to
say the least, somewhat ambiguous and shadowy.
Yet, when he informs us that eating and drinking
illustrate the control of mind by matter," and "that
the line of life traced backwards leads towards a
purely physical condition," it is a little difficult to
avoid the conclusion that he regards science as
destined.
<<
"To tread the world
Into a paste, and thereof make a smooth
Uniform mound, whereon to plant its flag.Ӡ
For the conclusion of the whole argument seems
to be, that all we know as facts are mere forms of
matter; although the stubborn refusal of conscious-
ness to be resolved into natural force, and its power
of constructing for itself a world of symbols, gives
science no little trouble, and forces it to acknowledge
complete ignorance of the nature of the power from
which all comes.
* Clerk Maxwell : "Notes of the President's Address,” British
Association, 1874.
† Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
206
ROBERT BROWNING.
<c
So roll things to the level which you love,
That you could stand at ease there and survey
The universal Nothing undisgraced
re
By pert obtrusion of some old church-spire
I' the distance ! " *
Some writers on ethics and religion have adopted
the same view of the goal of the idea of evolution.
In consistency with this supposed tendency of
science, to resolve all things into their simplest.
and earliest forms, religion has been traced back
to the superstition and ghost-worship of savages ;
and then it has been contended that it is, in essence,
nothing more than superstition and ghost-worship.
And, in like manner, morality, with its categorical
imperative of duty, has been traced back, without
a break, to the ignorant fear of the vengeance of
a savage chief. A similar process in the same
direction reduces the love divine, of which our poet
speaks, into brute lust; somewhat sublimated, it is
true, in its highest forms, but not fundamentally
changed.
Philosophers deduce you chastity
Or shame, from just the fact that at the first
Whoso embraced a woman in the field,
Threw club down and forewent his brains beside;
So, stood a ready victim in the reach
Of any brother-savage, club in hand.
Hence saw the use of going out of sight
In wood or cave to prosecute his loves." f
And when the sacred things of life are treated
in this manner-when moral conduct is showed to
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
† Bishop Blougram's Apology.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 207
be evolved by a continuous process from "conduct
in general," the conduct of an infusorium or a
cephalopod," or even of wind-mills or water-wheels, it
is not surprising if the authority of the moral law
seems to be undermined, and that "devout souls'
are apprehensive of the results of science. “Does
law so analyzed coerce you much?" asks Browning.
""
"C
The derivation of spiritual from natural laws
thus appears to be fatal to the former; and
religious teachers naturally think that it is neces-
sary for their cause to snap the links of the chain
of evolution, and, like Professor Drummond, to
establish absolute gaps, not only between the inor-
ganic and the organic worlds, but also between
the self-conscious life of man and the mysterious,
spiritual life of Christ, or God. But it seems to
me that, in their antagonism to evolution, religious
teachers are showing the same incapacity to dis-
tinguish between their friends and their foes, which
they previously manifested in their acceptance of
the Kantian doctrine of "things in themselves,"
-a doctrine which placed God and the soul be-
yond the power of speculative reason either to
prove or disprove. It is, however, already recog-
nized that the attempt of Mansel and Hamilton
to degrade human reason for the behoof of faith
was really a veiled agnosticism; and a little re-
flection must show that the idea of evolution, truly
interpreted, in no wise threatens the degradation
of man, or the overthrow of his spiritual interests.
On the contrary, this idea is, in all the history of
208
ROBERT BROWNING.
thought, the first constructive hypothesis which is
adequate to the uses of ethics and religion. By
means of it, we may hope to solve many of the
problems arising from the nature of knowledge and
moral conduct, which the lower category of cause
turned into pure enigmas. It seems, indeed, to
contain the promise of establishing the science of
man, as intelligent, on a firm basis; on which we may
raise a superstructure, comparable in strength and
superior in worth, to that of the science of nature.
And, even if the moral science must, like philosophy,
always return to the beginning-must, that is,
from the necessity of its nature, and not from any
complete failure-it will still begin again at a
higher level now that the idea of evolution is in
the field.
It now remains to show in what way the idea
of evolution leaves room for religion and morality;
or, in other words, to show how, so far from de-
grading man to the level of the brute condition,
and running life down into "purely physical con-
ditions," it contains the promise of establishing that
idealistic view of the world, which is maintained by
art and religion.
In order to show this, it is necessary that the
idea of evolution should be used fearlessly, and ap-
plied to all facts that can in any way come under
it. It must, in other words, be used as a category
of thought, whose application is universal; so that,
if it is valid at all as a theory, it is valid of all
finite things. For the question we are dealing with
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 209
is not the truth of the hypothesis of a particular
science, but the truth of a hypothesis as to the
relation of all objects in the world, including man
himself. We must not be deterred from this uni-
versal application by the fact that we cannot, as
yet, prove its truth in every detail. No scientific
hypothesis ever has exhausted its details. I con-
sider, therefore, that Mr. Tyndall had a complete
right to "cross the boundary of the experimental
evidence by an intellectual necessity"; for the
necessity comes from the assumption of a possible
explanation by the aid of the hypothesis. It is
no argument against such a procedure to insist
that, as yet, there is no proof of the absolute con-
tinuity of matter and physical life, or that the
dead begets the living. The hypothesis is not dis-
proved by the absence of evidence; it is only not
proved. The connection may be there, although
we have not, as yet, been able to find it. In the
face of such difficulties as these, the scientific in-
vestigator has always a right to claim more time;
and his attitude is impregnable as long as he re-
members, as Mr. Tyndall did on the whole, that
his hypothesis is a hypothesis.
But Mr. Tyndall has himself given up this right.
He, like Mr. Huxley, has placed the phenomena of
self-consciousness outside of the developing pro-
cess, and confined the sphere in which evolution
is applicable, to natural objects. Between objects
and the subject, even when both subject and object
are man himself, there lies "an impassable gulf."
210
ROBERT BROWNING.
Even to try "to comprehend the connection be-
tween thought and thing is absurd, like the effort
of a man trying to lift himself by his own waist-
band." Our states of self-consciousness are sym-
bols only-symbols of an outside entity, whose real
nature we can never know. We know only these
states; we only infer "that anything answering
to our impressions exists outside of ourselves."
And it is impossible to justify even that inference;
for, if we can only know states of consciousness, we
cannot say that they are symbols of anything,
or that there is anything to be symbolized. The
external world, on this theory, ceases to exist even
as an unknown entity. In triumphantly pointing
out that, in virtue of this psychological view, "There
is, you will observe, no very rank materialism here,"
Mr. Tyndall forgets that he has destroyed the
basis of all natural science, and reduced evolution
into a law of "an outside entity," of which we
can never know anything, and any inference re-
garding which violates every law of thought.
It seems to me quite plain that either this psycho-
logical theory, which Mr. Tyndall has mistaken for
a philosophy, is invalid; or else it is useless to en-
deavour to propound any view regarding a "nature
which is the phantom of the individual's mind."
prefer the science of Mr. Tyndall (and of Mr. Huxley,
too) to his philosophy; and he would have escaped
materialism more effectively, if he had remained
faithful to his theory of evolution. It is a disloyalty,
not only to science, but to thought, to cast away
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM.
211
our categories when they seem to imply inconvenient
consequences. They must be valid universally, if
they are valid at all.
Mr. Tyndall contends that nature makes man,
and he finds evidence in the fact that we eat and
drink, "of the control of mind by matter." Now,
it seems to me, that if nature makes man, then
nature makes man's thoughts also. His sensations,
feelings, ideas, notions, being those of a naturally-
evolved agent, are revelations of the potency of the
primal matter, just as truly as are the buds, flowers,
and fruits of a tree. No doubt, we cannot as yet
comprehend the connection” between nervous
action and sensation, any more than we can com-
prehend the connection between inorganic and
organic existence. But, if the absence of "experi-
mental evidence" does not disprove the hypothesis
in the one case, it can not disprove it in the other.
There are two crucial points in which the theory has
not been established.
(C
But, in both cases alike, there is the same kind
of evidence that the connection exists; although
in neither case can we, as yet, discover what it
is. Plants live by changing inorganic elements into
organic structure; and man is intelligent only in
so far as he crosses over the boundary between
subject and object, and knows the world without
him. There is no "impassable gulf separating the
subject and object"; if there were we could not
know anything of either. There are not two
worlds-the one of thoughts, the other of things
J
212
ROBERT BROWNING.
"
-which are absolutely exclusive of each other,
but one universe in which thought and reality
meet. Mr. Tyndall thinks that it is an infer-
ence (and an inference over an impassable gulf!)
that anything answering to our impressions exists
outside ourselves. The question of the external
world is the great battleground of metaphysics,"
he quotes approvingly from Mr. J. S. Mill. But
the question of the external world is not whether
that world exists; it is, how are we to account for
our knowledge that it does exist. The inference is
not from thoughts to things, nor from things to
thoughts, but from a partially known world to a
systematic theory of that world. Philosophy is not
engaged on the foolish enterprise of trying to dis-
cover whether the world exists, or whether we know
that it exists; its problem is how to account for
our knowledge. It asks what must the nature of
things be, seeing that they are known; and what
is the nature of thought, seeing that it knows
facts?
There is no hope whatsoever for ethics, or religion,
or philosophy-no hope even for science-in a theory
which would apply evolution all the way up from
inorganic matter to life, but which would postulate an
absolute break at consciousness. The connection
between thought and things is there to begin with,
whether we can account for it or not; if it were not,
then natural science would be impossible. It would
be palpably irrational even to try to find out the
nature of things by thinking. The only science
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 213
would be psychology, and even that would be the
science of "symbols of an unknown entity." What
symbols of an unknown can signify, or how an un-
known can produce symbols of itself across an
impassable gulf-Mr. Spencer, Mr. Huxley, and
Mr. Tyndall have yet to inform us.
It is the more necessary to insist on this, because
the division between thought and matter, which is
admitted by these writers, is often grasped at by
their opponents, as a means of warding off the results
which they draw from the theory of evolution.
When science breaks its sword, religion assails it
with the fragment. It is not at once evident that
if this chasm were shown to exist, knowledge would
be a chimera; for there would be no outer world
at all, not even a phenomenal one, to supply an
object for it. We must postulate the ultimate
unity of all beings with each other and with the
mind that knows them, just because we are intel-
lectual and moral beings; and to destroy this unity
is to "kill reason itself, as it were, in the eye," as
Milton said.
Now, evolution not only postulates unity, or the
unbroken continuity of all existence, but it also
negates all differences, except those which are ex-
pressions of that unity. It is not the mere asser-
tion of a substratum under qualities; but it implies
that the substratum penetrates into the qualities,
and manifests itself in them. That which develops
-be it plant, child, or biological kingdom-is, at
every stage from lowest to highest, a concrete unity
214
ROBERT BROWNING.
of all its differences; and in the whole history of
its process its actual content is always the same.
The environment of the plant evokes that content,
but it adds nothing to it. No addition of anything
absolutely new, no external aggregation, no inser-
tion of anything alien into a growing thing, is
possible. What it is now, it was in the beginning;
and what it will be, it is now. Granting the
hypothesis of evolution, there can be no quarrel
with the view that the crude beginnings of things,
matter in its most nebulous state, contains poten-
tially all the rich variety of both natural and
spiritual life.
..
But this continuity of all existence may be inter-
preted in two very different ways. It may lead
us either to radically change our notions of mind
and its activities, or "to radically change our notions
of matter." We may take as the principle of ex-
planation, either the beginning, or the end of the
process of development. We may say of the simple
and crass,
There is all that your rich universe
really means"; or we may say of the spiritual activi-
ties of man, "This is what your crude beginning
really was." We may explain the complex by the
simple, or the simple by the complex. We may
analyze the highest back into the lowest, or we
may follow the lowest, by a process of synthesis, up
to the highest.
And one of the most important of all questions
for morality and religion is the question, which of
these two methods is valid. If out of crass matter
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 215
is evolved all animal and spiritual life, does that
prove life to be nothing but matter; or does it not
rather show that what we, in our ignorance, took
to be mere matter was really something much
greater? If" crass matter " contains all this promise
and potency, by what right do we still call it
"crass"? It is manifestly impossible to treat the
potencies, assumed to lie in a thing that grows, as
if they were of no significance; first, to assert that
such potencies exist, in saying that the object de-
velops; and then, to neglect them, and to regard.
the effect as constituted merely of its simplest ele-
ments. Either these potencies are not in the object,
or else the object has in it, and is, at the first,
more than it appears to be. Either the object
does not grow, or the lowest stage of its being is
no explanation of its true nature.
If we wish to know what the forms of natural
life mean, we look in vain to their primary state.
We must watch the evolution and revelation of the
secret hid in natural life, as it moves through the
ascending cycles of the biological kingdom. The
idea of evolution, when it is not muddled, is synthetic
—not analytic; it explains the simplest in the light
of the complex, the beginning in the light of the end,
and not vice versa. In a word, it follows the ways
of nature, the footsteps of fact, instead of inventing
a wilful backward path of its own. And nature
explains by gradually expanding. If we hearken
to nature, and not to the voice of illusory precon-
ceptions, we shall hear her proclaim at the last
216
ROBERT BROWNING.
stage, "Here is the meaning of the seedling. Now
it is clear what it really was; for the power which
lay dormant has pushed itself into light, through bud
and flower and leaf and fruit." The reality of a
growing thing is its highest form of being. The
last explains the first, but not the first the last.
The first is abstract, incomplete, not yet actual,
but mere potency; and we could never know
even the potency, except in the light of its own
actualization.
From this correction of the abstract view of
development momentous consequences follow. If
the universe is, as science pronounces, an organic
totality, which is ever converting its promise and
potency into actuality, then we must add " that the
ultimate interpretation even of the lowest existence
in the world cannot be given except on principles
which are adequate to explain the highest. We
must "level up and not level down": we must not
only deny that matter can explain spirit, but we
must say that even matter itself cannot be fully
understood, except as an element in a spiritual
world. *
That the idea of evolution, even when applied
in this consistent way, has difficulties of its own, it
is scarcely necessary to say. But there is nothing
in it which imperils the ethical and religious in-
terests of humanity, or tends to reduce man into a
natural phenomenon. Instead of degrading man, it
lifts nature into a manifestation of spirit. If it were
* Professor Caird, The Critical Philosophy of Kant, p. 35.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 217
established, if every link of the endless chain were
discovered and the continuity of existence were
irrefragably proved, science would not overthrow
idealism, but it would rather vindicate it. It would
justify in detail the attempt of poetry and religion
and philosophy, to interpret all being as the " trans-
parent vesture of reason, or love, or whatever
other power in the world is regarded as highest.
>>
I have now arrived at the conclusion that was
sought. I have tried to show, not only that the
attempt to interpret nature in terms of man is not
a superstitious anthropomorphism, but that such
an interpretation is implied in all rational thought.
In other words, self-consciousness is the key to all
the problems of nature. Science, in its progress, is
gradually substituting one category for the other,
and every one of these categories is at once a law
of thought and a law of things as known. Each
category, successively adopted, lifts nature more to
the level of man; and the last category of modern
thought, namely, development, constrains us so to
modify our views of nature, as to regard it as finally
explicable only in the terms of spirit. Thus, the
movement of science is towards idealism. Instead
of lowering man, it elevates nature into a potency
of that which is highest and best in man.
It rep-
resents the life of man, in the language of philos-
ophy, as the return of the highest to itself; or in
the language of our poet, and of religion, as a
manifestation of infinite love. The explanation
of nature from the principle of love, if it errs, errs
•
218
ROBERT BROWNING.
"because it is not anthropomorphic enough," not
because it is too anthropomorphic; it is not too
high and concrete a principle, but too low and
abstract.
It now remains to show that the poet, in employ-
ing the idea of evolution, was aware of its upward
direction. I have already quoted a few passages
which indicate that he had detected the false use
of it. I shall now quote a few others in which he
shows a consciousness of its true meaning:
“Will you have why and wherefore, and the fact
Made plain as pike-staff?' modern Science asks.
'That mass man sprung from was a jelly-lump
Once on a time; he kept an after course
Through fish and insect, reptile, bird and beast,
Till he attained to be an ape at last,
Or last but one. And if this doctrine shock
In aught the natural pride.'"*
"Not at all," the poet interrupts the man of science:
"Friend, banish fear!"
"I like the thought He should have lodged me once
I' the hole, the cave, the hut, the tenement,
The mansion and the palace; made me learn
The feel o' the first, before I found myself
Loftier i' the last." t
This way upward from the lowest stage through
every other to the highest, that is, the way of
development, so far from lowering us to the brute
level, is the only way for us to attain to the true
highest, namely, the all-complete.
*Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
† Ibid.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 219
But grant me time, give me the management
And manufacture of a model me,
Me fifty-fold, a prince without a flaw,-
Why, there's no social grade, the sordidest,
My embryo potentate should brink and scape.
King, all the better he was cobbler once,
He should know, sitting on the throne, how tastes
Life to who sweeps the doorway." *
"C
But then, unfortunately, we have no time to make
our kings in this way.
'You cut probation short,
And, being half-instructed, on the stage
You shuffle through your part as best you can.
66
God, however, "takes time." He makes man pass
his apprenticeship in all the forms of being. Nor
does the poet
""
"Refuse to follow farther yet
I' the backwardness, repine if tree and flower,
Mountain or streamlet were my dwelling-place
Before I gained enlargement, grew mollusc."‡
It is, indeed, only on the supposition of having been
thus evolved from inanimate being that he is able
to account
"For many a thrill
Of kinship, I confess to, with the powers
Called Nature: animate, inanimate,
In parts or in the whole, there's something there
Man-like that somehow meets the man in me."§
These passages make it clear that the poet recog-
nized that the idea of development "levels up,"
and that he makes an intelligent, and not a per-
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
Ibid.
† Ibid.
§ Ibid.
220
ROBERT BROWNING.
verted and abstract use of this instrument of thought.
He sees each higher stage carrying within it the
lower, the present storing up the past; he recognizes
that the process is a self-enriching one. He knows
it to be no degradation of the higher that it has
been in the lower; for he distinguishes between
that life, which is continuous amidst the fleeting
forms, and the temporary tenements, which it makes
use of during the process of ascending.
'From first to last of lodging, I was I,
And not at all the place that harboured me.
<<
✩.
""
"
'He dwells in all,
From life's minute beginnings, up at last
To man-the consummation of this scheme
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
When nature is thus looked upon from the point
of view of its final attainment, in the light of the
self-consciousness into which it ultimately breaks,
a new dignity is added to every preceding phase.
The lowest ceases to be lowest, except in the sense
that its promise is not fulfilled and its potency not
actualized; for, throughout the whole process, the
activity streams from the highest. It is that which
is about to be which guides the growing thing and
gives it unity. The final cause is the efficient cause;
the distant purpose is the ever-present energy; the
last is always first.
Nor does the poet shrink from calling this highest,
this last which is also first, by its highest name,
-God.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM.
221
Of being, the completion of this sphere
Of life." *
"All tended to mankind," he said, after review-
ing the whole process of nature in Paracelsus,
66
And, man produced, all has its end thus far :
But in completed man begins anew
A tendency to God." †
There is nowhere a break in the continuity. God
is at the beginning, His rapturous presence is seen
in all the processes of nature, His power and know-
ledge and love work in the mind of man, and all
history is His revelation of Himself.
The gap which yawns for ordinary thought be-
tween animate and inanimate, between nature and
spirit, between man and God, does not baffle the
poet. At the stage of human life, which is "the
grand result" of nature's blind process,
"C
A supplementary reflux of light,
Illustrates all the inferior grades, explains
""
Each back step in the circle.
Nature is retracted into thought, built again in
mind.
Man, once descried, imprints for ever
His presence on all lifeless things."§
66
The self-consciousness of man is the point where
"all the scattered rays meet”; and
and "the dim
fragments," the otherwise meaningless manifold,
the dispersed activities of nature, are lifted into a
* Paracelsus.
† Ibid.
‡ Ibid.
§ Ibid.
:
222
ROBERT BROWNING.
kosmos by the activity of intelligence. In its light,
the forces of nature are found to be, not blind nor
purposeless, but "hints and previsions
""
"Strewn confusedly everywhere about
The inferior natures, and all lead up higher,
All shape out dimly the superior race,
The heir of hopes too fair to turn out false,
And man appears at last." *
In this way, and in strict accordance with the
principle of evolution, the poet turns back at each
higher stage to re-illumine in a broader light what
went before,-just as we know the seedling after
it is grown; just as, with every advance in life, we
interpret the past anew, and turn the mixed ore
of action into pure metal by the reflection which
draws the false from the true.
"Youth ended, I shall try
My gain or loss thereby;
Leave the fire ashes, what survives is gold:
And I shall weigh the same,
Give life its praise or blame :
Young, all lay in dispute; I shall know, being old.” †
As youth attains its meaning in age, so does the
unconscious process of nature come to its meaning
And old age,
in man
is able to
"Still within this life
Though lifted o'er its strife,'
"1
"Discern, compare, pronounce at last,
This rage was right i' the main,
That acquiescence vain "; ‡
† Rabbi Ben Ezra.
* Paracelsus.
‡ Ibid.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM.
223
so man is able to penetrate beneath the apparently
chaotic play of phenomena, and find in them law,
and beauty, and goodness. The laws which he finds
by thought are not his inventions, but his dis-
coveries. The harmonies are in the organ, if the
artist only knows how to elicit them. Nay, the
connection is still more intimate. It is in the
thought of man that silent nature finds its voice;
it blooms into "meaning," significance, thought, in
him, as the plant shows its beauty in the flower.
Nature is making towards humanity, and in human-
ity it finds itself.
"Striving to be man, the worm
Mounts through all the spires of form." *
The geologist, physicist, chemist, by discovering
the laws of nature, do not bind unconnected phe-
nomena; but they refute the hasty conclusion of
sensuous thought, that the phenomena ever were
unconnected. Men of science do not introduce order
into chance and chaos, but show that there never
was chance or chaos. The poet does not make the
world beautiful, but finds the beauty that is dwelling
there. Without him, indeed, the beauty would not
be, any more than the life of the tree is beautiful
until it has evolved its potencies into the outward
form. Nevertheless, he is the expression of what
was before, and the beauty was there in potency,
awaiting its expression. Only let his thoughts be
of equal scope, and the frame will suit the picture,"
said Emerson.
(C
* Emerson.
224
ROBERT BROWNING.
"The winds
Are henceforth voices, wailing or a shout,
A querulous mutter, or a quick gay laugh,
Never a senseless gust now man is born.
The herded pines commune and have deep thoughts,
A secret they assemble to discuss
When the sun drops behind their trunks.
The morn has enterprise, deep quiet droops
With evening, triumph takes the sunset hour,
Voluptuous transport ripens with the corn
Beneath a warm moon like a happy face." *
Such is the transmuting power of imagination,
that there is "nothing but doth suffer change into
something rich and strange"; and yet the imagina-
tion, when loyal to itself, only sees more deeply
into the truth of things, and gets a closer and fuller
hold of facts.
But, although the human mind thus heals the
breach between nature and spirit, and discovers
the latter in the former, still it is not in this way
that Browning finally establishes his idealism. For
him, the principle working in all things is not reason,
but love. It is from love that all being first flowed;
into it all returns through man; and in all “the
wide compass which is fetched," through the infinite
variety of forms of being, love is the permanent
element and the true essence. Nature is on its way
back to God, gathering treasure as it goes. The
static view is not true to facts; it is development
that for the poet explains the nature of things; and
development is the evolution of love. Love is for
* Paracelsus.
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 225
Browning the highest, richest conception man can
form. It is our idea of that which is perfect; we
cannot even imagine anything better. And the
idea of evolution necessarily explains the world as
the return of the highest to itself. The universe is
homeward bound.
Now, whether love is the highest principle or
not, I shall not inquire at present. My task in this
chapter has been to try to show that the idea of
evolution drives us onward towards some highest
conception, and then uses that conception as a prin-
ciple to explain all things. If man is veritably
higher as a physical organism than the bird or
reptile, then biology, if it proceeds according to
the principles of evolution, must seek the meaning
of the latter in the former, and make the whole
kingdom of life a process towards man. Man
is no upstart in the creation. His limbs are only
a more exquisite organization-say rather the finish
-of the rudimental forms that have already been
sweeping the sea and creeping in the mud." And
the same way of thought applies to man as a
spiritual agent. If spirit be higher than matter,
and if love be spirit at its best, then the principle
of evolution leaves no option to the scientific
thinker, but to regard all things as potentially
spirit, and all the phenomena of the world as
manifestations of love. Evolution necessarily com-
bines all the objects to which it is applied into
a unity. It knits all the infinite forms of natural
life into an organism of organisms, so that it is
(
8
226
ROBERT BROWNING.
IM.
a universal life which really lives in all animate
beings. “Each animal or vegetable form remem-
bers the next inferior and predicts the next higher.
There is one animal, one plant, one matter, and
one force." In its still wider application by poetry
and philosophy, the idea of evolution gathers all
being into one self-centred totality, and makes all
finite existence a movement within, and a move-
ment of, that final perfection which, although last
in order of time, is first in order of potency,-the
prius of all things, the active energy in all things,
and the reality of all things. It is the doctrine
of the immanence of God; and it reveals the
effort of God, of the supreme intellect, in the ex-
treme frontier of His universe.'
""
In pronouncing, as Browning frequently does,
that after last comes first " and what God once
blessed cannot prove accursed"; in the boldness of
the faith whereby he makes all the inferior grades.
of being into embodiments of the supreme good;
in resolving the evils of human life, the sorrow,
strife, and sin of man into means of man's pro-
motion, he is only applying, in a thorough manner,
the principle on which all modern speculation rests.
His conclusions may shock common-sense; and
they may seem to stultify not only our observation
of facts, but the testimony of our moral conscious-
ness. But I do not know of any principle of specu-
lation which, when elevated into a universal prin-
ciple of thought, will not do the same; and this
is why the greatest poets and philosophers seem
""
""
JUSTIFICATION OF HIS IDEALISM. 227
to be touched with a divine madness. Still, if this
be madness, there is a method in it. We cannot
escape from its logic, except by denying the idea
of evolution-the hypothesis by means of which
modern thought aims, and in the main successfully
aims, at reducing the variety of existence, and the
chaos of ordinary experience, into an order-ruled
world and a kosmos of articulated knowledge.
The new idea of evolution differs from that of
universal causation, to which even the ignorance
of our own day has learnt to submit, in this mainly
-it does not leave things on the level on which
it finds them. Both cause and evolution assert
the unity of being, which, indeed, every one must
assume—even sceptics and pessimists; but develop-
ment represents that unity as self-enriching; so
that its true nature is revealed, only in the highest
form of existence which man can conceive. The
attempt of poets and philosophers to establish a
universal synthesis by means of evolution, differs
from the work which is done by men of science,
only in the extent of its range and the breadth of
its results. It is not "idealism," but the scepti-
cism which, in our day, conceals its real nature
under the name of dualism or agnosticism, that
is at war with the inner spirit of science. Not
only," we may say of Browning as it was said of
Emerson by Professor Tyndall, "is his religious
sense entirely undaunted by the discoveries of
science; but all such discoveries he comprehends
and assimilates. By him scientific conceptions
(
228
ROBERT BROWNING.
are continually transmuted into the finer forms
and warmer hues of an ideal world." And this
he does without any distortion of the truth. For
natural science, to one who understands its main
tendency, does not militate against philosophy, art,
and religion; nor threaten to overturn a metaphysic
whose principle is truth, or beauty, or goodness.
Rather, it is gradually eliminating the discord of
fragmentary existence, and making the harmony of
the world more and more audible to mankind. It
is progressively proving that the unity, of which we
are all obscurely conscious from the first, actually
holds in the whole region of its survey. The idea
of evolution is reconciling science with art and re-
ligion, in an idealistic conception of the universe.
CHAPTER VIII.
BROWNING'S SOLUTION OF THE PROBLEM
OF EVIL.
"Let him, therefore, who would arrive at knowledge of nature,
train his moral sense, let him act and conceive in accordance with
the noble essence of his soul; and, as if of herself, nature will
become open to him. Moral action is that great and only ex-
periment, in which all riddles of the most manifold appearances
explain themselves." *
Q
IN
N the last chapter, I tried to set forth some con-
siderations that justify the attempt to interpret
the world by a spiritual principle. The conception
of development, which modern science and philos-
ophy assume as a starting-point for their investi-
gation, was shown to imply that the lowest forms
of existence can be explained, only as stages in the
self-realization of that which is highest. This idea
"levels upwards," and points to self-consciousness as
the ultimate truth of all things. In other words,
it involves that all interpretation of the world is
anthropomorphic, in the sense that what constitutes
thought constitutes things, and, therefore, that the
key to nature is man.
In propounding this theory of love, and establish-
* Novalis.
230
ROBERT BROWNING.
ing an idealism, Browning is in agreement with the
latest achievement of modern thought. For, if the
principle of evolution be granted, love is a far more
adequate hypothesis for the explanation of the
nature of things, than any purely physical principle.
Nay, science itself, in so far as it presupposes evolu-
tion, tends towards an idealism of this type. Whether
love be the best expression for that highest principle,
which is conceived as the truth of being, and whether
Browning's treatment of it is consistent and valid,
I do not as yet inquire. Before attempting that
task, it must be seen to what extent, and in what
way, he applies the hypothesis of universal love to
the particular facts of life. For the present, I take
it as admitted that the hypothesis is legitimate, as
an hypothesis; it remains to ask, with what suc-
cess, if any, we may hope, by its means, to solve
the contradictions of life, and to gather its con-
flicting phenomena into the unity of an intelligible
system. This task cannot be accomplished within
our limits, except in a very partial manner. I can
attempt to meet only a few of the more evident and
pressing difficulties that present themselves, and I
can do that only in a very general way.
The first of these difficulties, or, rather, the main
difficulty from which all others spring, is that the
hypothesis of universal love is incompatible with
the existence of any kind of evil, whether natural
or moral. Of this, Browning was well aware. He
knew that he had brought upon himself the hard task
of showing that pain, weakness, ignorance, failure,
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
231
doubt, death, misery, and vice, in all their complex
forms, can find their legitimate place in a scheme
of love. And there is nothing more admirable in
his attitude, or more inspiring in his teaching, than
the manly frankness with which he endeavours to
confront the manifold miseries of human life, and
to constrain them to yield, as their ultimate mean-
ing and reality, some spark of good.
But, as we have seen, there is a portion of this
task in the discharge of which Browning is drawn
beyond the strict limits of art. Neither the magni-
ficent boldness of his religious faith, nor the pene-
tration of his artistic insight, although they enabled
him to deal successfully with the worst samples of
human evil, as in The Ring and the Book, could
dissipate the gloom which reflection gathers around
the general problem. Art cannot
Art cannot answer the
questions of philosophy. The difficulties that
critical reason raises reason alone can lay. Never-
theless, the poet was forced by his reflective im-
pulse, to meet that problem in the form in which it
presents itself in the region of metaphysics. He
was conscious of the presuppositions within which
his art worked, and he sought to justify them.
Into this region we must now follow him, so as to
examine his theory of life, not merely as it is implied
in the concrete creations of his art, but as it is
expressed in those later poems, in which he attempts
to deal directly with the speculative difficulties that
crowd around the conception of evil.
To the critic of a philosophy, there is hardly more
232
ROBERT BROWNING.
رویال
than one task of supreme importance. It is that
of determining the precise point from which the
theory he examines takes its departure; for, when
the central conception is clearly grasped, it will be
generally found that it rules all the rest. The super-
structure of philosophic edifices is usually put
together in a sufficiently solid manner-it is the
foundation that gives way. Hence Hegel, who,
whatever may be thought of his own theory, was
certainly the most profound critic of philosophy
since Aristotle, generally concentrates his attack on
the preliminary hypothesis. He brings down the
erroneous system by removing its foundation-stone.
His criticism of Spinoza, Kant, Fichte, and Schelling
may almost be said to be gathered into a single
sentence.
""
Browning has made no secret of his central
conception. It is the idea of an immanent or
immundate love. And that love, we have
shown, is conceived by him as the supreme moral
motive, the ultimate essence and end of all self-
conscious activity, the veritable nature of both man
and God.
<<
'
"Denn das Leben ist die Liebe,
Und des Lebens Leben Geist.'
""
His philosophy of human life rests on the idea that
it is the realization of a moral purpose, which is a
loving purpose. To him there is no supreme good,
except good character; and the foundation of that
character by man and in man is the ultimate pur-
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
233
pose, and, therefore, the true meaning of all exist-
ence.
"I search but cannot see
What purpose serves the soul that strives, or world it tries
Conclusions with, unless the fruit of victories
Stay, one and all, stored up and guaranteed its own
For ever, by some mode whereby shall be made known
The gain of every life. Death reads the title clear-
What each soul for itself conquered from out things here:
Since, in the seeing soul, all worth lies, I assert." *
In this passage, Browning gives expression to an
idea which continually reappears in his pages—
that human life, in its essence, is movement to
moral goodness through opposition. His funda-
mental conception of the human spirit is that it is
a process, and not a fixed fact. 'Man," he says,
was made to grow not stop."
""
(c
<c
Getting increase of knowledge, since he learns
Because he lives, which is to be a man,
Set to instruct himself by his past self.Ӡ
"By such confession straight he falls
Into man's place, a thing nor God nor beast,
Made to know that he can know and not more :
Lower than God who knows all and can all,
Higher than beasts which know and can so far
As each beast's limit, perfect to an end,
Nor conscious that they know, nor craving more ;
While man knows partly but conceives beside,
Creeps ever on from fancies to the fact,
And in this striving, this converting air
Into a solid he may grasp and use,
Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone,
Not God's and not the beasts': God is, they are,
Man partly is and wholly hopes to be."‡
It were easy to multiply passages which show
* Fifine at the Fair, lv. † A Death in the Desert. ‡ Ibid.
234
ROBERT BROWNING.
that his ultimate deliverance regarding man is,
not that he is, nor that he is not, but that he is
ever becoming. Man is ever at the point of con-
tradiction between the actual and ideal, and mov-
ing from the latter to the former. Strife consti-
tutes him. He is a war of elements; "hurled from
change to change unceasingly." But rest is death;
for it is the cessation of the spiritual activity, whose
essence is acquirement, not mere possession, whether
in knowledge or in goodness.
"Man must pass from old to new,
From vain to real, from mistake to fact,
From what once seemed good, to what now proves best.” *
Were the movement to stop, and the contradiction
between the actual and ideal reconciled, man would
leave man's estate, and pass under "angel's law."
"C
'Indulging every instinct of the soul
There, where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing." †
But as long as he is man, he has
"Somewhat to cast off, somewhat to become.”
In Paracelsus, Fifine at the Fair, Red Cotton
Nightcap Country, and many of his other poems,
Browning deals with the problem of human life
from the point of view of development. And it is
this point of view, consistently held, which enables
him to throw a new light on the whole subject of
ethics. For, if man be veritably a being in process
* A Death in the Desert.
† Ibid.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
235
of evolution, if he be a permanent that always
changes from earliest childhood to old age, if he be
a living thing, a potency in process of actualization,
then no fixed distinctions made with reference to him
can be true. If, for instance, it be asked whether
man is rational or irrational, free or bound, good or
evil, God or brute, the true answer, if he is veritably
a being moving from ignorance to knowledge, from
wickedness to virtue, from bondage to freedom,
is, that he is at once neither of these alternatives
and both. All hard terms of division, when applied
to a subject which grows, are untrue. If the life of
man is a self-enriching process, if he is becoming
good, and rational, and free, then at no point in the
movement is it possible to pass fixed and definite
judgments upon him. He must be estimated by his
direction and momentum, by the whence and whither
of his life. There is a sense in which man is from
the first and always good, rational and free; for it
is only by the exercise of reason and freedom that
he exists as man. But there is also a sense in which
he is none of these; for he is at the first only a
potency not yet actualized. He is not rational,
but becoming rational; not good, but becoming
good; not free, but aspiring towards freedom.
It is his prayer that "in His light, he may see light
truly, and in His service find perfect freedom."
In this frank assumption of the point of view
of development. Browning suggests the question
whether the endless debate regarding freedom, and
necessity, and other moral terms, may not spring
236:
ROBERT BROWNING.
from the fact, that both of the opposing schools of
ethics are fundamentally unfaithful to the subject
of their inquiry. They are treating a developing
reality from an abstract point of view, and taking
for granted,-what cannot be true of man, if he
grows in intellectual power and moral goodness-
that he is either good or evil, either rational or
irrational, either free or bond, at every moment in
the process. They are treating man from a static,
instead of from a kinetic point of view, and for-
getting that it is his business to acquire the moral
and intellectual freedom, which he has potentially
from the first-
"Some fitter way express
Heart's satisfaction that the Past indeed
Is past, gives way before Life's best and last,
The all-including Future ! " *
But, whether or not the new point of view renders
some of the old disputations of ethics meaningless,
it is certain that Browning viewed moral life as
! a growth through conflict.
"What were life
Did soul stand still therein, forego her strife
Through the ambiguous Present to the goal
Of some all-reconciling Future?"†
To become, to develop, to actualize by reaction
against the natural and moral environment, is the
meaning both of the self and of the world it works.
upon. We are here to learn the good of peace
through strife, of love through hate, and reach
knowledge by ignorance.
* Gerard de Lairesse.
"C
""
† Ibid.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
237
Now, since the conception of development is a
self-contradictory one, or, in other words, since it
necessarily implies the conflict of the ideal and
actual in all life, and in every instant of its history,
it remains for us to determine more fully what are
the warring elements in human nature. What is
the nature of this life of man, which, like all life, is
self-evolving; and by conflict with what does the
evolution take place? What is the ideal which
condemns the actual, and yet realizes itself by
means of it; and what is the actual which wars
against the ideal, and yet contains it in potency,
and reaches towards it? That human life is con-
ceived by Browning as a moral life, and not a more
refined and complex form of the natural life of
plants and animals-a view which finds its expon-
ents in Herbert Spencer, and other so-called evolu
tionists—it is scarcely necessary to assert. It
is a life which determines itself, and determines
itself according to an idea of goodness. That idea,
moreover, because it is a moral ideal, must be
regarded as the conception of perfect and absolute
goodness. Through the moral end, man is ideally
identified with God, who, indeed, is necessarily
conceived as man's moral ideal regarded as already
and eternally real. God" and the moral
ideal” are, in truth, expressions of the same idea;
they convey the conception of perfect goodness
from different standpoints. And perfect goodness
is, to Browning, limitless love. Pleasure, wisdom,
power, and even the beauty which art discovers
"C
(c
238
ROBERT BROWNING.
""
and reveals, together with every other inner quality
and outer state of being, have only relative worth.
There is nothing either in the world or out of it
which is unconditionally good, except a good will,"
said Kant; and a good will, according to Brown-
ing, is a will that wills lovingly. From love all
other goodness is derived. There is earnest mean-
ing, and not mere sentiment, in the poet's assertion
that
"There is no good of life but love-but love!
What else looks good, is some shade flung from love.
Love gilds it, gives it worth.
Be warned by me,
Never you cheat yourself one instant! Love,
Give love, ask only love, and leave the rest!"*
"Let man's life be true," he adds, "and love's
the truth of mine." To attain this truth, that is,
to constitute love into the inmost law of his being,
and permanent source of all his activities, is the
task of man. And Browning defines that love as
"Yearning to dispense,
Each one its own amount of gain thro' its own mode
Of practising with life."
There is no need of illustrating further the doc-
trine, so evident in Browning, that "love" is the
ideal which in man's life makes through conflict for
its own fulfilment. From what has been already
said, it is abundantly plain that love is to him a
divine element, which is at war with all that is
lower in man and around him, and which by reaction
* In a Balcony.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
239
against circumstance converts its own mere promise
into fruition and fact. Through love man's nature
reaches down to the permanent essence, amid the
fleeting phenomena of the world, and is at one with
what is first and last. As loving he ranks with
God. No words are too strong to represent the
intimacy of the relation. For, however limited in
range and tainted with alien qualities human love
may be, it is still " a pin-point rock of His boundless
continent." It is not a semblance of the divine
nature, an analogon, or verisimilitude, but the love
of God himself in man: so that man is in this sense
an incarnation of the divine. The Godhood in him
constitutes him, so that he cannot become himself,
or attain his own ideal or true nature, except by
becoming perfect as God is perfect.
But the emphasis thus laid on the divine worth
and dignity of human love is balanced by the stress
which the poet places on the frailty and finitude of
every other human attribute. Having elevated
the ideal, he degrades the actual. Knowledge and
the intellectual energy which produces it; art and
the love of beauty from which it springs: every
power and every gift, physical and spiritual, other
than love, has in it the fatal flaw of being merely
human. All these are so tainted with creatureship,
so limited and conditioned, that it is hardly too
much to say that they are, at their best, deceptive
endowments. Thus, the life of man regarded as
a whole is, in its last essence, a combination of
utterly disparate elements. The distinction of the
240
ROBERT BROWNING.
old moralists between divinity and dust; the ab-
solute dualism of the old ascetics between flesh
and spirit, sense and reason, find their accurate
parallel in Browning's teachings. But he is himself
no ascetic, and the line of distinction he draws does
not, like theirs, pass between the flesh and the
spirit. It rather cleaves man's spiritual nature into
two portions, which are absolutely different from
each other. A chasm divides the head from the
heart, the intellect from the emotions, the moral
and practical from the perceptive and reflective
faculties. And it is this absolute cleavage that
gives to Browning's teaching, both on ethics and
religion, one of its most peculiar characteristics.
By keeping it constantly in sight, we may hope to
render intelligible to ourselves the solution he
offers of the problem of evil, and of other funda-
mental difficulties of the life of man. For, while
Browning's optimism has its original source in his
conception of the unity of God and man, through
the Godlike quality of love-even " the poorest love
that was ever offered "-he finds himself unable to
maintain it, except at the expense of degrading
man's knowledge. Thus, his optimism and faith
in God is finally based upon ignorance. If, on the
side of love, he insists, almost in the spirit of a
Spinozist, on God's communication of His own
substance to man; on the side of knowledge he
may be called an agnostic, in spite of stray ex-
pressions which break through his deliberate theory.
While "love gains God at first leap,"
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
241
Knowledge means
Ever-renewed assurance by defeat
That victory is somehow still to reach.” *
66
A radical flaw runs through our knowing faculty.
Human knowledge is not only incomplete-no one
can be so foolish as to deny that-but it is, as
regarded by Browning, essentially inadequate to
the nature of fact, and we must distrust it, even
when it seems demonstrable." No professed ag-
nostic can condemn the human intellect more
utterly than he does. He pushes the limitedness of
human knowledge into a disqualification of it to
reach truth at all; and makes the conditions
according to which we know, or seem to know, into
a deceiving necessity, which makes us know wrongly.
""
"To know of, think about,—
Is all man's sum of faculty effects
When exercised on earth's least atom, Son!
What was, what is, what may such atom be?
No answer!"†
Thought plays around facts, but never reaches
them. Mind intervenes between itself and its
objects, and throws its own shadow upon them;
nor can it penetrate through that shadow, but deals
with it as if it were reality, though it knows all the
time that it is not.
This theory of knowledge, or rather of nescience
or no-knowledge, he gives in La Saisiaz, Ferishtah's
Fancies, The Parleyings, and Asolando-in all his
later and more reflective poems, in fact. It must, I
* A Pillar at Sebzevar.
+ A Bean-Stripe.
242
ROBERT BROWNING.
think, be held to be his deliberate and final view-
and all the more so, because, by a peculiar process,
he gets from it his defence of his ethical and religious
faith.
In the first of these poems, Browning, while dis-
cussing the problem of immortality in a purely
speculative spirit, and without stipulating, "Pro-
vided answer suits my hopes, not fears," gives a
tolerably full account of that which must be regarded
as the principles of his theory of knowledge. Its
importance to his ethical doctrine justifies a some-
what exhaustive examination of it.
He finds himself to be " a 'midway point, between
a cause before and an effect behind-both blanks."
Within that narrow space, of the self hemmed in by
two unknowns, all experience is crammed. Out of
that experience crowds all that he knows, and all
that he misknows. There issues from experience-
Conjecture manifold,
But, as knowledge, this comes only-things may be as I behold,
Or may not be, but, without me and above me, things there are;
I myself am what I know not-ignorance which proves no bar
To the knowledge that I am, and, since I am, can recognize
What to me is pain and pleasure: this is sure, the rest—surmise.
If my fellows are or are not, what may please them and what
pain,-
66
Mere surmise: my own experience that is knowledge once
again."
***
Experience, then, within which he (and every one
else) acknowledges that all his knowledge is con-
fined, yields him as certain facts-the consciousness
* La Saisiaz.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
243
that he is, but not what he is: the consciousness
that he is pleased or pained by things about him,
whose real nature is entirely hidden from him:
and, as he tells us just before, the assurance that
God is the thing the self perceives outside itself,
"A force
Actual e'er its own beginning, operative thro' its course,
Unaffected by its end." *
But, even this knowledge, limited as it is to the
bare existence of unknown entities, has the further
defect of being merely subjective. The "experi-
ence from which he draws his conclusions, is his
own in an exclusive sense. His "thinking thing'
has, apparently, no elements in common with the
"thinking things" of other selves. He ignores the
fact that there may be general laws of thought,
according to which his mind must act in order to
be a mind. Intelligence seems to have no nature,
and may be anything. All questions regarding
"those apparent other mortals are consequently
unanswerable to the poet. "Knowledge stands on
my experience"; and this "my" is totally unre-
lated to all other Mes.
""
""
"All outside its narrow hem,
Free surmise may sport and welcome! Pleasures, pains affect
mankind
*La Saisiaz.
Just as they affect myself? Why, here's my neighbour colour-
blind,
Eyes like mine to all appearance: 'green as grass' do I affirm?
'Red as grass' he contradicts me: which employs the proper
term? "†
† Ibid.
244
ROBERT BROWNING.
If there were only they two on earth as tenants,
there would be no way of deciding between them;
for, according to his argument, the truth is appar-
ently decided by majority of opinions. Each individ-
ual, equipped with his own particular kind of senses
and reason, gets his own particular experience, and
draws his own particular conclusions from it. If it
be asked whether these conclusions are true or
not, the only answer is that the question is absurd;
for, under such conditions, there cannot be either
truth or error. Every one's opinion is its own
criterion. Each man is the measure of all things;
His own world for every mortal," as the poet
puts it.
"
"To each mortal peradventure earth becomes a new machine,
Pain and pleasure no more tally in our sense than red and
green.'
The first result of this subjective view of know-
ledge is clearly enough seen by the poet. He is
well aware that his convictions regarding the high
matters of human destiny are valid only for himself.
"Only for myself I speak,
Nowise dare to play the spokesman for my brothers strong
and weak." +
"(
Experience, as he interprets it, that is, present
consciousness, this moment's me and mine," is
too narrow a basis for any universal or objective
conclusion. So far as his own inner experience of
pain and pleasure goes,
*La Saisiaz.
† Ibid.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
245
'All-for myself-seems ordered wise and well
Inside it,—what reigns outside, who can tell ? ”*
"C
But as to the actual world, he can have no opinion,
nor, from the good and evil that apparently play
around him, can he deduce either
Praise or blame of its contriver, shown a niggard or profuse
In each good or evil issue." t
The moral government of the world is a subject,
regarding which we are doomed to absolute ignor-
ance. A theory that it is ruled by the "prince
of the power of the air" has just as much, and
just as little, validity as the more ordinary view
held by religious people. Who needs be told
"The space
Which yields thee knowledge-do its bounds embrace
Well-willing and wise-working, each at height?
Enough beyond thee lies the infinite-
Back to thy circumscription!"‡
K
And our ignorance of God, and the world, and our-
selves is matched by a similar ignorance regarding
moral matters.
66
'Ignorance overwraps his moral sense,
Winds him about, relaxing, as it wraps,
So much and no more than lets through perhaps
The murmured knowledge-'Ignorance exists." "§
*Francis Furini.
+ Francis Furini.
We cannot be certain even of the distinction and
conflict of good and evil in the world. They, too,
+ La Saisiaz.
§ Ibid.
i-
246
ROBERT BROWNING.
and the apparent choice between them to which
man is continually constrained, may be mere illu-
sions-phenomena of the individual consciousness.
What remains, then? Nothing but to "wait."
"Take the joys and bear the sorrows-neither with extreme
concern !
Living here means nescience simply: 'tis next life that helps
to learn." *
It is hardly necessary to enter upon any detailed
criticism of such a theory of knowledge as this,
which is proffered by the poet. It is well known
by all those who are in some degree acquainted
with the history of philosophy-and it will be easily
seen by all who have any critical acumen—that it
leads directly into absolute scepticism. And abso-
lute scepticism is easily shown to be self-contra-
dictory. For a theory of nescience, in condemning
all knowledge and the faculty of knowledge, con-
demns itself. If nothing is true, or if nothing is
known, then this theory itself is not true, or its
truth cannot be known. And if this theory is true,
then nothing is true; for this theory, like all others,
is the product of a defective intelligence. In what-
soever way the matter is put, there is left no
standing-ground for the human critic who condemns
human thought. And he cannot well pretend to a
footing in a sphere above man's, or below it. There
is thus one presupposition which every one must
make, if he is to propound any doctrine whatsoever,
even if that doctrine be that no doctrine can be
* La' Saisiaz.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
247
valid; it is the presupposition that knowledge is
possible, and that truth can be known. And this
presupposition fills, for modern philosophy, the
place of the Cogito ergo sum of Descartes. It is
the starting-point and criterion of all knowledge.
It is, at first sight, a somewhat difficult task to
account for the fact, that so keen an intellect as
the poet's did not perceive the conclusion to which
his theory of knowledge so directly and necessarily
leads. It is probable, however, that he never critic-
ally examined it, but simply accepted it as equiva-
lent to the common doctrine of the relativity of
knowledge, which, in some form or other, all the
schools of philosophy adopt. But the main reason
will be found to lie in the fact that knowledge
was not, to Browning, its own criterion or end.
The primary fact of his philosophy is that human
life is a moral process. His interest in the evolution
of character was his deepest interest, as he informs
us; he was an ethical teacher rather than a meta-
physician. He is ever willing to asperse man's
intelligence. But that man is a moral agent he
will in no wise doubt. This is his
"Solid standing-place amid
The wash and welter, whence all doubts are bid
Back to the ledge they break against in foam.” *
His practical maxim was
"Wholly distrust thy knowledge, then, and trust
As wholly love allied to ignorance!
There lies thy truth and safety." †
*Francis Furini.
† A Pillar of Sebzevar.
248
ROBERT BROWNING.
All phenomena must, in some way or other, be re-
conciled by the poet with the fundamental and
indubitable fact of the progressive moral life of
man. For the fundamental presupposition which
a man makes, is necessarily his criterion of know-
ledge, and it determines the truth or illusoriness
of all other opinions whatsoever.
Now, Browning held, not only that no certain
knowledge is attainable by man, but also that such
certainty is incompatible with moral life. Abso-
lute knowledge would, he contends, lift man above
the need and the possibility of making the moral
choice, which is our supreme business on earth.
Man can be good or evil, only on condition of
being in absolute uncertainty regarding the true
meaning of the facts of nature and the phenomena
of life.
This somewhat strange doctrine finds the most
explicit and full expression in La Saisiaz. "Fancy,"
amongst the concessions it demands from " Reason,"
claims that man should know--not merely surmise
or fear--that every action done in this life awaits
its proper and necessary meed in the next.
"I also will that man become aware
Life has worth incalculable, every moment that he spends
So much gain or loss for that next life which on this life de
pends.
**
But Reason refuses the concession, upon the ground
that such sure knowledge would be destructive of ·
* La Saisiaz.
1
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
249
the very distinction between right and wrong, which
the demand implies. The "promulgation of this
decree," by Fancy, "makes both good and evil to
cease."
Prior to it "earth was man's probation-
place"; but under this decree man is no longer
free; for certain knowledge makes action necessary.
66
Once lay down the law, with Nature's simple 'Such effects
succeed
Causes such, and heaven or hell depends upon man's earthly
deed
Just as surely as depends the straight or else the crooked line
On his making point meet point or with or else without incline,'
Thenceforth neither good nor evil does man, doing what he
must."*
If we presuppose that man, addressed this
mode, be sound and sane (and we must stipulate
sanity, if his actions are to be morally judged at all)
then a law which binds punishment and reward
to action in a necessary manner, and is known so to
bind them, would "obtain prompt and absolute
obedience." There are some edicts, now styled
God's own nature's," which to hear means to
obey." All the laws relating to the preservation
of life are of this character. And, if the law-
“Would'st thou live again, be just "-were in all
ways as stringent as the other law-
"C
<<
""
CC
“Would'st thou live now, regularly draw thy breath!
For, suspend the operation, straight law's breach results in
death "—†
then no one would disobey it, nor could. “It is
* La Saisiaz, 195.
† Ibid.
250
ROBERT BROWNING.
་པ་ བརྡ་
the liberty of doing evil that gives the doing good a
grace." And that liberty would be taken away by
complete assurance, that effects follow actions in
the moral world with the necessity seen in the
natural sphere. Since, therefore, man is made to
grow, and earth is the place wherein he is to pass
probation and prove his powers, there must remain
a certain doubt as to the issues of his actions;
conviction must not be so strong as to carry with
it man's whole nature. The best I both see and
praise, the worst I follow," is the adage rife in
man's mouth regarding his moral conduct. But,
spite of his seeing and praising,
""
"he disbelieves
In the heart of him that edict which for truth his head receives.” *
He has a dim consciousness of ways whereby he
may elude the consequences of his wickedness, and
of the possibility of making amends to law.
CC
And now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're thinkin',
A certain Bardie's rantin', drinkin',
Some luckless hour will send him linkin'
To your black pit ;
But, faith, he'll turn a corner jinkin',
And cheat you yet."
The more orthodox and less generous individual is
prone to agree, as regards himself, with Burns;
but, he sees, most probably, that such an escape.
is impossible to others. He has secret solacement
in a latent belief that he himself is an exception.
There will be a special method of dealing with
* La Saisiaz.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
251
him. He is a "chosen sample"; and "God will
think twice before He damns a man of his quality.”
It is just because there is such doubt as to the
universality and necessity of the law which connects
actions and consequences in the moral sphere, that
man's deeds have an ethical character; while, to
disperse doubt and ignorance by the assurance of
complete knowledge, would take the good from
goodness and the ill from evil.
In this ingenious manner, the poet turns the im-
perfect intellect and delusive knowledge of man to
a moral use. Ordinarily, the intellectual impotence
of man is regarded as carrying with it moral in-
capacity as well, and the delusiveness of knowledge
is one of the strongest arguments for pessimism.
To persons pledged to the support of no theory,
and to those who have the naïveté, so hard to
maintain side by side with strong doctrinal convic-
tions, it seems amongst the worst of evils that man
should be endowed with fallacious faculties, and
cursed with a futile desire for true knowledge
which is so strong, that it cannot be quenched even
in those who believe that truth can never be
attained. It is the very best men of the world
who cry
'
Oh, this false for real,
This emptiness which feigns solidity,-
Ever some grey that's white, and dun that's black,—
When shall we rest upon the thing itself,
Not on its semblance? Soul-too weak, forsooth,
To cope with fact-wants fiction everywhere!
Mine tires of falsehood: truth at any cost !"*
* A Bean-Stripe.
252
ROBERT BROWNING.
The poet himself was burdened in no small degree
with this vain desire for knowing the truth; and
he recognized, too, that he was placed in a world
which seems both real and beautiful, and so well
worth knowing. Yet, it is this very failure of
knowledge-a failure which, be it remembered, is
complete and absolute, because, as he thinks, all
facts must turn into phantoms by mere contact
with our "relative intelligences," which he consti-
tutes into the basis of his optimistic faith.
So high is the dignity and worth of the moral
life to Browning, that no sacrifice is too great to
secure it. And, indeed, if it were once clearly
recognized that there is no good thing but good-
ness, nothing of supreme worth, except the realiza-
tion of a loving will, then doubt, ignorance, and
every other form of apparent evil would be fully
justified-provided they were conditions whereby
this highest good is attained. And, to Browning,
ignorance was one of the conditions.
And conse-
quently, the dread pause in the music which agnos、
ticism brings, is only "silence implying sound";
and the vain cry for truth, arising from the heart
of the earth's best men, is only a discord moving
towards resolution into a more rapturous harmony.
I do not stay here to inquire whether sure know-
ledge would really have this disastrous effect of
destroying morality, or whether its failure does not
rather imply the impossibility of a moral life. I
return to the question asked at the beginning of
this chapter, and which it is now possible to
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
253
answer. That question was: How does Browning
reconcile his hypothesis of universal love with the
natural and moral evils existing in the world ?
His answer is quite explicit. The poet solves
the problem by casting doubt upon the facts which
threaten his hypothesis. He reduces them into
phenomena, in the sense of phantoms begotten by
the human intellect upon unknown and unknowable
realities.
"Thus much at least is clearly understood-
Of power does Man possess no particle :
Of knowledge-just so much as shows that still
It ends in ignorance on every side." *
He is aware of the phenomena of his own conscious-
ness,
66
My soul, and my soul's home,
This body";
but he knows not whether "things outside are fact
or feigning." And he heeds little, for in either case
they
"Teach
What good is and what ev.1,-just the same,
Be feigning or be fact the teacher." †
It is the mixture, or rather the apparent mixture,
of shade and light in life, the conflict of seeming
good with seeming evil in the world, that consti-
tutes the world a probation-place. It is a kind of
moral gymnasium, crowded with phantoms, wherein
by exercise man makes moral muscle. And the
*Francis Furini.
† Ibid.
254
ROBERT BROWNING.
vigour of the athlete's struggle is not in the least
abated by the consciousness that all he deals with
are phantoms.
"I have lived, then, done and suffered, loved and hated, learnt
and taught
This there is no reconciling wisdom with a world distraught,
Goodness with triumphant evil, power with failure in the aim,
If (to my own sense, remember! though none other feel the
same !)—
If you bar me from assuming earth to be a pupil's place,
And life, time-with all their chances, changes,-just probation.
space,
Mine, for me.
11 *
And the world would not be such a probation-
space did we once penetrate into its inmost secret,
and know its phenomena as veritably either good
or evil. There is the need of playing something
perilously like a trick on the human intellect if
man is to strive and grow.
"Here and there a touch
Taught me, betimes, the artifice of things—
That all about, external to myself,
Was meant to be suspected,-not revealed
Demonstrably a cheat-but half seen through.” †
To know objects as they veritably are, might reveal
all things as locked together in a scheme of univer-
sal good, so that " white would rule unchecked along
the line." But this would be the greatest of dis-
asters; for, as moral agents, we cannot do without
"the constant shade
Cast on life's shine,-the tremor that intrudes
When firmest seems my faith in white.” ‡
* La Saisiaz. † A Bean-Stripe.
‡ Ibid.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
255
i
The intellectual insight that would penetrate through
the vari-colour of events into the actual presence
of the incandescent white of love, which glows, as
hope tells us, in all things, would stultify itself, and
lose its knowledge even of the good.
"Think!
Could I see plain, be somehow certified
All was illusion-evil far and wide
Was good disguised,-why, out with one huge wipe
Goes knowledge from me. Type needs antitype:
As night needs day, as shine needs shade, so good
Needs evil: how were pity understood
Unless by pain ?” *
Good and evil are relative to each other, and each`
is known only through its contrary.
"For me
(Patience, beseech you!) Knowledge can but be
Of good by knowledge of good's opposite-
Evil." †
The extinction of one of the terms would be the
extinction of the other. And, in a similar manner,
clear knowledge that evil is illusion and that all
things have their place in an infinite divine order
would paralyze all moral effort, as well as stultify
itself.
Make evident that pain
Permissibly masks pleasure—you abstain
""
From out-stretch of the finger-tip that saves
A drowning fly." ‡
Certainty on either side, either that evil is evil for
* Francis Furini.
† Ibid.
Ibid.
256
ROBERT BROWNING.
evermore, irredeemable and absolute, a drench of
utter dark not illuminable by white; or that it is
but mere show and semblance, which the good
takes upon' itself, would alike be ruinous to man.
For both alternatives would render all striving folly.
The right attitude for man is that of ignorance,
complete uncertainty, the equipoise of conflicting
alternatives. He must take his stand on the con-
tradiction. Hope he may have that all things work
together for good. It is right that he should nourish
the faith that the antagonism of evil with good in
the world is only an illusion; but that faith must
stop short of the complete conviction that know-
ledge would bring. When, therefore, the hypothesis
of universal love is confronted with the evils of life,
and we ask how it can be maintained in the face
of the manifold miseries everywhere apparent, the
poet answers," You do not know, and cannot know,
whether they are evils or not. Your knowledge
remains at the surface of things. You cannot fit
them into their true place, or pronounce upon their
true purpose and character; for you see only a
small arc of the complete circle of being. Wait
till you see more, and, in the meantime, hope!
""
"Why faith-but to lift the load,
To leaven the lump, where lies
Mind prostrate through knowledge owed
To the loveless Power it tries
To withstand, how vain!” *
And, if we reply in turn, that this necessary ignor-
* Reverie-Asolando.
karmada poput get
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
257
ance leaves as little room for his scheme of love as
it does for its opposite, he again answers: "Not
so! I appeal from the intellect, which is detected
as incompetent, to the higher court of the moral
consciousness. And there I find the ignorance to
be justified: for it is the instrument of a higher
purpose, a means whereby what is best is gained,
namely, Love."
"My curls were crowned
In youth with knowledge,-off, alas, crown slipped
Next moment, pushed by better knowledge still
Which nowise proved more constant: gain, to-day,
Was toppling loss to-morrow, lay at last
-Knowledge, the golden ?-lacquered ignorance !
As gain-mistrust it! Not as means to gain :
Lacquer we learn by :
The prize is in the process: knowledge means
Ever-renewed assurance by defeat
That victory is somehow still to reach,
But love is victory, the prize itself:
Love-trust to ! Be rewarded for the trust
In trust's mere act." *
Now, in order to complete our examination of
this theory, we must follow the poet in his attempt
to escape from the testimony of the intellect to
that of the heart. In order to make the most of
the latter, we find that Browning, especially in his
last work, tends to withdraw his accusation of utter
incompetence on the part of the intellect. He only
tends to do so, it is true. He is tolerably con-
sistent in asserting that we know our own emo-
tions and the phenomena of our own consciousness;
but he is not consistent in his account of our know-
* A Pillar at Sebzevar.
9
258
ROBERT BROWNING.
ledge, or ignorance, of external things. On the
whole, he asserts that we know nothing of them.
But in Asolando he seems to imply that the evidence
of a loveless power in the world, permitting evil,
is irresistible.* To say the least, the testimony of
the intellect, such as it is, is more clear and con-
vincing with regard to evil than it is with regard to
good. Within the sphere of phenomena, to which
the intellect is confined, there seems to be, instead
of a benevolent purpose, a world ruled by a power
indifferent to the triumph of evil over good, and
either "loveless " or unintelligent.
64 Life, from birth to death,
Means either looking back on harm escaped,
Or looking forward to that harm's return
With tenfold power of harming." †
And it is not possible for man to contravene this
evidence of faults and omissions: for, in doing so,
he would remove the facts in reaction against
which his moral nature becomes active. What
proof is there, then, that the universal love is no
mere dream? None! from the side of the intellect,
answers the poet. Man, who has the will to remove
the ills of life,
"Stop change, avert decay,
Fix life fast, banish death,” ‡
has not the power to effect his will; while the
Power, whose limitlessness he recognizes everywhere
* See passage just quoted.
† A Bean-Stripe.
Reverie-Asolando.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
259
around him, merely maintains the world in its re-
morseless course, and puts forth no helping hand
when good is prone and evil triumphant. God
does nothing.
"No sign,'-groaned he,-
'No stirring of God's finger to denote
He wills that right should have supremacy
On earth, not wrong! How helpful could we quote
But one poor instance when He interposed
Promptly and surely and beyond mistake
Between oppression and its victim, closed
Accounts with sin for once, and bade us wake
From our long dream that justice bears no sword,
Or else forgets whereto its sharpness serves.
> ""
M
But he tells us in his later poems, that there is no
answer vouchsafed to man's cry to the Power, that
it should reveal
"What heals all harm,
Nay, hinders the harm at first,
Saves earth.”
CC
And yet, so far as man can see, there were no bar
to the remedy, if "God's all-mercy" did really
"mate His all-potency."
"How easy it seems,-to sense
Like man's-if somehow met
Power with its match-immense
Love, limitless, unbeset
By hindrance on every side!"‡
But that love nowhere makes itself evident.
"Power," we recognize,
"finds nought too hard,
Fulfilling itself all ways,
Unchecked, unchanged; while barred,
*Bernard de Mandeville. † Reverie-Asolando.
‡ Ibid.
260
ROBERT BROWNING.
Baffled, what good began
Ends evil on every side.” *
Thus, the conclusion to which knowledge inevitably
leads us is that mere power rules.
"No more than the passive clay
Disputes the potter's act,
""
Could the whelmed mind disobey
Knowledge, the cataract." †
But if the intellect is thus overwhelmed, so as to
be almost passive to the pessimistic conclusion
borne in upon it by "resistless fact," the heart of
man is made of another mould. It revolts against
the conclusion of the intellect, and climbs
"Through turbidity all between,
From the known to the unknown here,
Heaven's 'Shall be,' from earth's 'Has been.' " ‡
It grasps a fact beyond the reach of knowledge,
namely, the possibility, or even the certainty, that
power is love." At present there is no sub-
stantiating by knowledge the testimony of the
heart; and man has no better anchorage for his
optimism than faith. But the closer view will
come, when even our life on earth will be seen to
have within it the working of love, no less manifest
than that of power.
"When see?
When there dawns a day,
If not on the homely earth,
Then, yonder, worlds away,
Where the strange and new have birth,
And Power comes full in play." §
† Ibid. ‡ Ibid.
* Reverie-Asolando.
§ Ibid.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
261
Now, what is this evidence of the heart, which is
sufficiently cogent and valid to counterpoise that
of the mind; and which gives to "faith,"
or
<<
hope," a firm foothold in the very face of the
opposing "resistless " testimony of knowledge?
Within our experience, to which the poet knows
we are entirely confined, there is a fact, the signifi-
cance of which we have not as yet examined.
For, plain and irresistible as is the evidence of evil,
so plain and constant is man's recognition of it
as evil, and his desire to annul it. If man's mind
is made to acknowledge evil, his moral nature is
made so as to revolt against it.
"Man's heart is made to judge
Pain deserved no-where by the common flesh
Our birth-right-bad and good deserve alike
No pain, to human apprehension." *
Owing to the limitation of our intelligence, we can-
not deny but that
'
"In the eye of God
Pain may have purpose and be justified.”
But whether it has its purpose for the supreme
intelligence or not,
"Man's sense avails to only see, in pain,
A hateful chance no man but would avert
Or, failing, needs must pity." †
Man must condemn evil, he cannot acquiesce in
its permanence, but is, spite of his consciousness
* Mihrab Shah-Ferishtah's Fancies.
† Ibid.
262
ROBERT BROWNING.
of ignorance and powerlessness, roused into constant
revolt against it.
'True, he makes nothing, understands no whit:
Had the initiator-spasm seen fit
Thus doubly to endow him, none the worse
And much the better were the universe.
"C
What does Man see or feel or apprehend
Here, there, and everywhere, but faults to mend,
Omissions to supply,-one wide disease
Of things that are, which Man at once would ease
Had will but power and knowledge? " *
But the moral worth of man does not suffer the
least detraction from his inability to effect his
benevolent purpose. "Things must take will for
deed," as Browning tells us. David is not at all
distressed by the consciousness of his weakness.
"Why is it I dare
Think but lightly of such impuissance? What stops my
despair?
This ;-'tis not what man Does which exalts him, but what man
Would do." +
The fact that "his wishes fall through," that he
cannot, although willing, help Saul, " grow poor to
enrich him, fill up his life by starving his own,"
does not prevent him from regarding his "service
as perfect." The will was there, although it lacked
power to effect itself. The moral worth of an
action is complete, if it is willed; and it is nowise
affected by its outer consequences, as both Browning
and Kant teach. The loving will, the inner act
of loving, though it can bear no outward fruit,
* Francis Furini.
† Saul.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
263
being debarred by outward-impediment, is still a
complete and highest good.
"But Love is victory, the prize itself:
Love-trust to! Be rewarded for the trust
In trust's mere act. In love success is sure,
Attainment—no delusion, whatso'er
The prize be apprehended as a prize,
A prize it is.” *
Whatever the evil in the world and the impotence
of man, his duty and his dignity in willing to per-
form it, are ever the same. Though God neglect the
world
'Man's part
Is plain-to send love forth,-astray, perhaps :
No matter, he has done his part." †
66
Now, this fact of inner experience, which the
poet thinks incontrovertible-the fact that man,
every man, necessarily regards evil, whether natural
or moral, as something to be annulled, were it only
possible—is an immediate proof of the indwelling
of that which is highest in man. On this basis,
Browning is able to re-establish the optimism which,
from the side of knowledge, he had utterly aban-
doned.
The very fact that the world is condemned by
man is proof that there dwells in man something
better than the world, whose evidence the pessimist
himself cannot escape. All is not wrong, as long
as wrong seems wrong. The pessimist, in con-
demning the world, must except himself. In his
† The Sun.
* A Pillar at Sebzevar.
264
ROBERT BROWNING.
very charge against God of having made man in
His anger, there lies a contradiction; for he himself
fronts and defies the outrage. There is no depth
of despair which this good cannot illumine with
joyous light, for the despair is itself the reflex of
the good.
Were earth and all it holds illusions mere,
Only a machine for teaching love and hate, and hope and fear,
CC
If this life's conception new life fail to realize—
Though earth burst and proved a bubble glassing hues of hell,
one huge
Reflex of the devil's doings-God's work by no subterfuge,” *
still, good is good, and love is its own exceeding
great reward. Alone, in a world abandoned to chaos
and infinite night, man is still not without God, if
he loves In virtue of his love, he himself would
be crowned as God, as the poet often argues, were
there no higher love elsewhere.
،
"If he believes
Might can exist with neither will nor love,
In God's case-what he names now Nature's Law-
While in himself he recognizes love
No less than might and will,” †
man takes, and rightly takes, the title of being
First, last, and best of things."
We g
"Since if man prove the sole existent thing
Where these combine, whatever their degree,
However weak the might or will or love,
So they be found there, put in evidence—
* La Saisiaz.
† A Death in the Desert.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
265
He is as surely higher in the scale
Than any might with neither love nor will,
As life, apparent in the poorest midge,
Is marvellous beyond dead Atlas' self,
Given to the nobler midge for resting-place!
Thus, man proves best and highest-God, in fine.
""
To any one capable of spiritually discerning things,
there can be no difficulty in regarding goodness,
however limited and mated with weakness, as
infinitely above all natural power. Divinity will be
known to consist, not in any senseless might, how-
ever majestic and miraculous, but in moral or
spiritual perfection. If God were indifferent to the
evil of the world, acquiesced in it without reason,
and let it ripen into all manner of wretchedness,
then man, in condemning the world, though without
power to remove the least of its miseries, would be
higher than God. But we have still to account for
the possibility of man's assuming an attitude implied
in the consciousness that, while he is without power,
God is without pity, and in the despair which springs
from his hate of evil. How comes it that human
nature rises above its origin, and is able-nay,
obliged to condemn the evil which God permits?
Is man finite in power, a mere implement of a
mocking will so far as knowledge goes, the plaything
of remorseless forces, and yet author and first source
of something in himself which invests him with a
dignity that God Himself cannot share? Is the
moral consciousness which, by its very nature, must
* A Death in the Desert.
266
ROBERT BROWNING.
bear witness against the Power, although it cannot
arrest its pitiless course, or remove the least evil,
"Man's own work, his birth of heart and brain,
His native grace, no alien gift at all?”
We are thus caught between the horns of a final
dilemma. Either the pity and love, which make
man revolt against all suffering, are man's own
creation; or else God, who made man's heart to
love, has given to man something higher than He
owns Himself. But both of these alternatives are
impossible.
"Here's the touch that breaks the bubble."
The first alternative is impossible, because man is
by definition powerless, a mere link in the endless
chain of causes, incapable of changing the least
part of the scheme of things which he condemns,
and therefore much more unable to initiate, or to
bring into a loveless world abandoned to blind
power, the noble might of love.
"Will of man create?
No more than this my hand, which strewed the beans
Produced them also from its finger-tips." *
All that man is and has is a mere loan; his love
no less than his finite intellect and limited power,
has had its origin elsewhere.
"Back goes creation to its source, source prime
And ultimate, the single and the sole." †
* A Bean-Stripe.
† Ibid.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
267
The argument ends by bringing us back
"To the starting-point,-
Man's impotency, God's omnipotence,
These stop my answer.
""
I shall not pause at present to examine the value
of this new form of the old argument,
Ex con-
tingentia mundi." But I may point out in passing,
that the reference of human love to a divine creative
source is accomplished by means of the idea of
cause, one of the categories of the thought which
Browning has aspersed. And it is a little difficult
to show why, if we are constrained to doubt our
thought, when by the aid of causality it establishes
a connection between finite and finite, we should
regard it as worthy of trust when it connects the
finite and the infinite. In fact, it is all too evident
that the poet assumes or denies the possibility of
knowledge, according as it helps or hinders his ethical
doctrine.
But, if we grant the ascent from the finite to the
infinite and regard man's love as a divine gift—
which it may well be although the poet's argument
is invalid-then a new light is thrown upon the
being who gave man this power to love. The
"necessity," "the mere power," which alone could
be discerned by observation of the irresistible
movement of the world's events, acquires a new
character. Prior to this discovery of love in man
as the work of God-
* A Bean-Stripe.
268
ROBERT BROWNING.
·
"Head praises, but heart refrains
From loving's acknowledgment.
Whole losses outweigh half-gains :
Earth's good is with evil blent :
Good struggles but evil reigns.” *
But love in man is a suggestion of a love without;
. a proof, in fact, that God is love, for man's love
is God's love in man. The source of the pity that
man shows, and of the apparent evils in the world
which excite it, is the same. The power which
called man into being, itself rises up in man against
the wrongs in the world. The voice of the moral
consciousness, approving the good, condemning evil,
and striving to annul it, is the voice of God, and
has, therefore, supreme authority. We do wrong,
therefore, in thinking that it is the weakness of
man which is matched against the might of evil
in the world, and that we are fighting a losing
battle. It is an incomplete, abstract, untrue view
of the facts of life which puts God as irresistible
Power in the outer world, and forgets that the
same irresistible Power works, under the higher
form of love, in the human heart.
"Is not God now i' the world His power first made ?
Is not His love at issue still with sin,
Visibly when a wrong is done on earth?
Love, wrong, and pain, what see I else around?"†
In this way, therefore, the poet argues back from
the moral consciousness of man to the goodness of
God. And he finds the ultimate proof of this
† A Death in the Desert.
* Reverie-Asolando.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
269
goodness in the very pessimism and scepticism and
despair, that come with the view of the apparently
infinite waste in the world and the endless miseries
of humanity. The source of this despair, namely,
the recognition of evil and wrong, is just the God-
hood in man. There is no way of accounting for
the fact that Man hates what is and loves what
should be," except by "blending the quality of man
with the quality of God." And "the quality of
God" is the fundamental fact in man's history.
Love is the last reality the poet always reaches.
Beneath the pessimism is love: without love of the
good there were no recognition of evil, no con-
demnation of it, and no despair.
("
But the difficulty still remains as to the per-,
mission of evil, even though it should prove in the
end to be merely apparent.
"Wherefore should any evil hap to man—
From ache of flesh to agony of soul-
Since God's All-mercy mates All-potency?
Nay, why permits He evil to Himself—
Man's sin, accounted such? Suppose a world
Purged of all pain, with fit inhabitant-
Man pure of evil in thought, word, and deed-
Were it not well? Then, wherefore otherwise? " *
Ma
Vegg
The poet finds an answer to this difficulty in the
very nature of moral goodness, which, as we have
seen, he regards as a progressive realization of an
infinitely high ideal. The demand for a world.
purged of all pain and sin is really, he teaches
us, a demand for a sphere where
* Mihrab Shah.
270
ROBERT BROWNING.
"Time brings
as to-day, shall be
No hope, no fear
To-morrow: advance or retreat need we
At our stand-still through eternity ? ”*
What were there to "bless or curse, in such a uni-
form universe,"
"Where weak and strong,
The wise and the foolish, right and wrong,
Are merged alike in a neutral Best."†
There is a better way of life, thinks Browning, than
such a state of stagnation.
"Why should I speak? You divine the test.
When the trouble grew in my pregnant breast
A voice said, So would'st thou strive, not rest,
Burn and not smoulder, win by worth,
Not rest content with a wealth that's dearth,
Thou art past Rephan, thy place be Earth.” ‡
The discontent of man, the consciousness of sin,
evil, pain, is a symbol of promotion. The peace
of the state of nature has been broken for him;
and, although the first consequence be
"Brow-furrowed old age, youth's hollow cheek,-
Diseased in the body, sick in soul,
Pinched poverty, satiate wealth,-your whole
Array of despairs," §
still, without them, the best is impossible. They
are the conditions of the moral life, which is essenti-
ally progressive. They are the consequences of the
fact that man has been "startled up "
* Rephan-Asolando.
† Ibid. ‡ Ibid. § Ibid.
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
271
"by an Infinite
Discovered above and below me-height
And depth alike to attract my flight,
Repel my descent: by hate taught love.
Oh, gain were indeed to see above
Supremacy ever-to move, remove,
Not reach-aspire yet never attain
To the object aimed at.” *
"
{
He who places rest above effort, Rephan above the
earth, places a natural good above a moral good,
stagnation above progress. The demand for the
absolute extinction of evil betrays ignorance of the
nature of the highest good. For right and wrong
are relative. Type need antitype." The fact
that goodness is best, and that goodness is not a
stagnant state but a progress, a gradual realization,
though never complete, of an infinite ideal, of the
perfection of God by a finite being, necessarily
implies the consciousness of sin and evil. As a
moral agent man must set what should be above
what is. If he is to aspire and attain, the actual
present must seem to him inadequate, imperfect,
wrong, a state to be abolished in favour of a better.
And therefore it follows that
Though wrong were right
Could we but know-still wrong must needs seem wrong
To do right's service, prove men weak or strong,
Choosers of evil or good." †
(6
The apparent existence of evil is the condition of
* Rephan-Asolando.
† Francis Furini.
T
272
ROBERT BROWNING.
goodness. And yet it must only be apparent. For
if evil be regarded as veritably evil, it must remain
so for all that man can do; he cannot annihilate
any fact nor change its nature, and all effort would,
therefore, be futile. And, on the other hand, if
evil were known as unreal, then there were no need
of moral effort, no quarrel with the present and
therefore no aspiration, and no achievement. That
which is man's highest and best,-namely, a moral
life which is a progress--would thus be impossible,
and his existence would be bereft of all meaning and
purpose. And if the highest is impossible then all
is wrong,
"the goal being a ruin, so is all the rest."
The hypothesis of the moral life as progressive
is essential to Browning.
But if this hypothesis be granted, then all diffi-
culties disappear. The conception of the endless
acquirement of goodness at once postulates the
consciousness of evil, and the consciousness of it as
existing in order to be overcome. Hence the con-
sciousness of it as illusion comes nearest to the
truth. And such a conception is essentially implied
by the idea of morality. To speculative reason,
however, it is impossible, as the poet believes, that
evil should thus be at the same time regarded as
both real and unreal. Knowledge leads to despair
on every side; for, whether it takes the evil in the
world as seeming or actual, it stultifies effort, and
proves that moral progress, which is best of all
things, is impossible. But the moral consciousness
derives its vitality from this contradiction. It is
THE PROBLEM OF EVIL.
273
the meeting-point and conflict of actual and ideal;
and its testimony is indisputable, however incon-
sistent it may be with that of knowledge. Acknow-
ledging absolute ignorance of the outer world, the
poet has still a retreat within himself, safe from all
doubt. He has in his own inner experience irre-
fragable proof
"How things outside, fact or feigning, teach
What good is and what evil-just the same,
Be feigning or be fact the teacher." *
The consciousness of being taught goodness by
interaction with the outside unknown is sufficient;
it is "a point of vantage" whence he will not be
moved by any contradictions that the intellect
may conjure up against it. And this process of
learning goodness, this gradual realization by man
of an ideal infinitely high and absolute in worth,
throws back a light which illumines all the pain and
strife and despair, and shows them all to be steps in
the endless "love-way." The consciousness of evil
is thus at once the effect and the condition of good-
ness. The unrealized, though ever-realizing good,
which brings despair, is the best fact in man's his-
tory; and it should rightly bring, not despair, but
endless joy.
* Francis Furini.
CHAPTER IX.
A CRITICISM OF BROWNING'S VIEW OF THE
FAILURE OF KNOWLEDGE.
"Der Mensch, da er Geist ist, darf und soll sich selbst des
höchsten würdig achten, von der Grösse und Macht seines
Geistes kann er nicht gross genug denken; und mit diesem Glau-
ben wird nichts so spröde und hart seyn, das sich ihm nicht
eröffnete. Das zuerst verborgene und verschlossene Wesen des
Universums hat keine Kraft, die dem Muthe des Erkennens
Widerstand leisten könnte: es muss sich vor ihm aufthun, und
seinen Reichthum und seine Tiefen ihm vor Augen legen und
zum Genusse geben." *
Β'
7
EFORE entering upon a criticism of Brown-
ing's theory, as represented in the last chap-
ter, it may be well to give a brief summary of it.
The most interesting feature of Browning's proof
of his optimistic faith is his appeal from the in-
telligence to the moral consciousness. To show
theoretically that evil is merely phenomenal is, in
his view, both impossible and undesirable. It is
impossible, because the human intellect is incapable
of knowing anything as it really is, or of pronouncing
upon the ultimate nature of any phenomenon. It
is undesirable, because a theoretical proof of the
* Hegel's Inaugural Address at Heidelberg.
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL. 275
evanescence of evil would itself give rise to the
greatest of all evils. The best thing in the world
is moral character. Man exists in order to grow
better, and the world exists in order to help him.
But moral growth is possible only through conflict
against evil, or what seems to be evil; hence, to
disprove the existence of evil would be to take away
the possibility of learning goodness, to stultify all
human effort, and to deprive the world of its
meaning.
But, if an optimistic doctrine cannot be reached
by way of speculative thought, if the intellect of
man cannot see the good in things evil, his moral
consciousness guarantees that all is for the best, and
that "the good is all in all." For, in distinguishing
between good and evil, the moral consciousness sets
up an ideal over against the actual. It conceives of
a scheme of goodness which is not realized in the
world, and it condemns the world as it is. Man,
as moral being, is so constituted that he cannot but
regard the evil in the world as something to be
annulled. If he had only the power, there would
be no pain, no sorrow, no weakness, no failure, no
death. Is man, then, better than the Power which
made the world and let woe gain entrance into it?
No! answers the poet; for man himself is part of
that world and the product of that Power. The
Power that made the world also made the moral
consciousness which condemns the world; if it is
the source of the evil in the world, it is also the
source of that love in man, which, by self-expendi-
276
ROBERT BROWNING.
*
ture, seeks to remedy it. If the external world
is merely an expression of a remorseless Power,
whence comes the love which is the principle of
the moral life in man? The same Power brings
the antidote as well as the bane. And, further,
the bane exists for the sake of the antidote, the
wrong for the sake of the remedy. The evil in
the world is means to a higher good, and the only
means possible; for it calls into activity the divine
element in man, and thereby contributes to its
realization in his character. It gives the necessary
opportunity for the exercise of love.
Hence, evil cannot be regarded as ultimately real.
It is real only as a stage in growth, as means to
an end; and the means necessarily perishes, or is
absorbed in, the attainment of the end. It has no
significance except by reference to that end. From
this point of view, evil is the resistance which makes
progress possible, the negative which gives meaning
to the positive, the darkness that makes day beauti-
ful. This must not, however, be taken to mean
that evil is nothing. It is resistance; it is negative ;
it does oppose the good; although its opposition is
finally overcome. If it did not, if evil were unreal,
there would be no possibility of calling forth the
moral potency of man, and the moral life would be
a figment. But these two conditions of the moral
life on the one hand, that the evil of the world
must be capable of being overcome and is there
for the purpose of being overcome, and that it is
unreal except as a means to the good; and, on
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
277
the other hand, that evil must be actually opposed
to the good, if the good is to have any meaning,-
cannot, Browning thinks, be reconciled with each
other. It is manifest that the intellect of man
cannot, at the same time, regard evil as both real
and unreal. It must assert the one and deny the
other; or else we must regard its testimony as
altogether untrustworthy. But the first alternative
is destructive of the moral consciousness. Moral
life is alike impossible whether we deny or assert
the real existence of evil. The latter alternative
stultifies knowledge, and leaves all the deeper con-
cerns of life—the existence of good and evil, the
reality of the distinction between them, the exist-
ence of God, the moral governance of the world,
the destiny of man-in a state of absolute uncer-
tainty. We must reject the testimony either of
the heart or of the head.
Browning, as we have seen, unhesitatingly adopts
the latter alternative. He remains loyal to the
deliverances of his moral consciousness and accepts
as equally valid, beliefs which the intellect finds to
be self-contradictory: holding that knowledge on
such matters is impossible. And he rejects this
knowledge, not only because our thoughts are self-
contradictory in themselves, but because the failure
of a speculative solution of these problems is neces-
sary to morality. Clear, convincing, demonstrative
knowledge would destroy morality; and the fact
that the power to attain such knowledge has been
withheld from us is to be regarded rather as an
278
ROBERT BROWNING.
indication of the beneficence of God, who has not
held even ignorance to be too great a price for man
to pay for goodness.
Knowledge is not the fit atmosphere for morality.
It is faith and not reason, hope and trust but not
certainty, that lend vigour to the good life. We
may believe, and rejoice in the belief, that the
absolute good is fulfilling itself in all things, and
that even the miseries of life are really its refracted
rays-the light that gains in splendour by being
broken. But we must not, and, indeed, cannot
ascend from faith to knowledge. The heart may
trust, and must trust, if it faithfully listens to its
own natural voice; but reason must not demon-
strate. Ignorance on the side of intellect, faith
on the side of the emotions; distrust of knowledge,
absolute confidence in love; such is the condition
of man's highest welfare: it is only thus that the
purpose of his life, and of the world which is his
instrument, can be achieved.
No final estimate of the value of this theory of
morals and religion can be made, without examining
its philosophical presuppositions. Nor is such an
examination in any way unfair; for it is obvious
that Browning explicitly offers us a philosophical
doctrine. He appeals to argument and not to
artistic intuition; he offers a definite theory to
which he claims attention, not on account of any
poetic beauty that may lie within it, but on the
ground that it is a true exposition of the moral
nature of man. Kant's Metaphysic of Ethics is not
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
279
more metaphysical in intention than the poet's
later utterances on the problems of morality. In
La Saisiaz, in Ferishtah's Fancies, in the Parleyings,
and, though less explicitly, in Asolando, Fifine at the
Fair, and Red Cotton Nightcap Country, Browning
definitely states, and endeavours to demonstrate a
theory of knowledge, a theory of the relation of
knowledge to morality, and a theory of the nature of
evil; and he discusses the arguments for the im-
mortality of the soul. In these poems his artistic.
instinct avails him, not as in his earlier ones, for the
discovery of truth by way of intuition, but for the
adornment of doctrines already derived from a
metaphysical repository. His art is no longer free,
no longer its own end, but coerced into an alien
service. It has become illustrative and argumenta-
tive, and in being made to subserve speculative
purposes, it has ceased to be creative. Browning
has appealed to philosophy, and philosophy must
try his cause.
Such, then, is Browning's theory; and I need
make no further apology for discussing at some
length the validity of the division which it involves
between the intellectual and the moral life of man.
Is it possible to combine the weakness of man's
intelligence with the strength of his moral and
religious life, and to find in the former the condi-
tion of the latter? Does human knowledge fail,
as the poet considers it to fail? Is the intelligence
of man absolutely incapable of arriving at know-
ledge of things as they are? If it does, if man
280
ROBERT BROWNING.
cannot know the truth, can he attain goodness?
These are the questions that must now be answered.
It is one of the characteristics of recent thought
that it distrusts its own activity: the ancient phil-
osophical "Scepticism" has been revived and
strengthened. Side by side with the sense of the
triumphant progress of natural science, there is a
conviction, shared even by scientific investigators
themselves, as well as by religious teachers and by
many students of philosophy, that our knowledge
has only limited and relative value, and that it
always stops short of the true nature of things.
The reason of this general conviction lies in the
fact that thought has become aware of its own
activity; men realize more clearly than they did
in former times that the apparent constitution of
things depends directly on the character of the
intelligence which apprehends them.
are.
This relativity of things to thought has, not un-
naturally, suggested the idea that the objects of
our knowledge are different from objects as they
"That the real nature of things is very dif-
ferent from what we make of them, that thought
and thing are divorced, that there is a fundamental
antithesis between them," is, as Hegel said, "the
hinge on which modern philosophy turns." Edu-
cated opinion in our day has lost its naïve trust in
itself. The natural belief of man, it is true, ever
gives the lie to the doctrine that we do not know
things. "In common life," adds Hegel, we reflect
without particularly noting that this is the process
"C
"
"C
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL. 281
of arriving at the truth, and we think without
hesitation and in the firm belief that thought
coincides with things.' * But, as soon as atten-
tion is directed to the process of thinking, and to the
way in which the process affects our consciousness
of the object, it is at once concluded that thought
will never reach reality, that things are not given
to us as they are, but distorted by the medium of
sense and our intelligence, through which they pass.
The doctrine of the relativity of knowledge is thus
very generally regarded as equivalent to the doctrine
that there is no true knowledge whatsoever. We
know only phenomena, or appearances; and it is
these, and not veritable facts, that we systematize
into sciences. We can arrange the appearances
—the shadows of our cave—and that, for the
practical purposes of the cave, is all that we re-
quire."† Not even
Not even "earth's least atom" can ever
be known to us as it really is; it is for us, at the
best,
CC
CC
An atom with some certain properties
Known about, thought of as occasion needs.
>>
܀܀
In this general distrust of knowledge, however,
there are, as might be expected, many different
degrees. Its origin in modern times was, no doubt,
the doctrine of Kant. "This divorce of thing and
thought," says Hegel, "is mainly the work of the
critical philosophy and runs counter to the con-
* Wallace's Translation of Hegel's Logic, p. 36.
+ Caird's Comte.
† A Bean-Stripe.
\
282
ROBERT BROWNING.
viction of all previous ages." And the complete-
ness of the divorce corresponds, with tolerable accu-
racy, to the degree in which the critical philosophy
has been understood; for Kant's writings, like
those of all great thinkers, are capable of many
interpretations, varying in depth with the intelli-
gence of the interpreters.
The most common and general form of this view
of the limitation of the human intelligence is that
which places the objects of religious faith beyond
the reach of human knowledge. We find traces of
it in much of the popular theology of our day.
The great facts of religion are often spoken of as
lying in an extra-natural sphere, beyond experience,
into which men cannot enter by the native right
of reason. It is asserted that the finite cannot know
the infinite, that the nature of God is unknowable-
except by means of a supernatural interference, which
gives to men a new power of spiritual discernment,
and reveals to them things which are above
reason," although not contrary to it. The theologian
often shields certain of his doctrines from criticism,
on the ground, as he contends, that there are facts
which we must believe, but which it would be pre-
sumptuous for us to pretend to understand or to
demonstrate. They are the proper objects of
"faith."
"C
"}
"C
But this view of the weakness of the intelligence
when applied to supersensuous facts, is held along
with an undisturbed conviction of the validity of
our knowledge of ordinary objects. It is believed,
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
283
in a word, that there are two kinds of realities,-
natural and supernatural; and that the former is
knowable and the latter not.
It requires, however, no great degree of intel-
lectual acumen to discover that this denial of the
validity of our knowledge of these matters involves
its denial in all its applications. The ordinary
knowledge of natural objects, which we begin by
regarding as valid, or, rather, whose validity is
taken for granted without being questioned, depends
upon our ideas of these supersensible objects. In
other words, those fundamental difficulties which
pious opinion discovers in the region of theology,
and which, as is thought, fling the human intellect
back upon itself into a consciousness of frailty and
finitude, are found to lurk beneath our ordinary
knowledge. Whenever, for instance, we endeavour
to know any object, we find that we are led back
along the line of its conditions to that which un-
conditionally determines it. For we cannot find
the reason for a particular object in a particular
object. We are driven back endlessly from one to
another along the chain of causes; and we can
neither discover the first link nor do without it.
The first link must be a cause of itself, and experi-
ence yields none such. Such a cause would be the
unconditioned, and the unconditioned we cannot
know. The final result of thinking is thus to lead
us to an unknown; and, in consequence, all our
seeming knowledge is seen to have no intelligible
basis, and, therefore, to be merely hypothetical. If
!
284
ROBERT BROWNING.
we cannot know God, we cannot know any-
thing.
This view is held by the Positivists, and the most.
popular English exponent of it is, perhaps, Mr.
Herbert Spencer. Its characteristic is its repudi-
tion of both theology and metaphysics as pseudo-
sciences, and its high esteem for science. That
esteem is not disturbed by the confession that
noumenal causes," that is, the actual reality of
things,--are unknown; for we can still lay claim to
valid knowledge of the laws of phenomena. Having
acknowledged that natural things as known are
merely phenomena, positivism treats them in all
respects as if they were realities; and it rejoices in
the triumphant progress of the natural sciences as
if it were a veritable growth of knowledge. It does
not take to heart the phenomenal nature of known
objects. But, having paid its formal compliments
to the doctrine of the relativity of all knowledge,
it neglects it altogether.
""
"
Those who understand Kant better carry his
scepticism further, and they complete the divorce
between man's knowledge and reality. The pro-
cess of knowing, they hold, instead of leading us
towards facts, as it was so long supposed to do,
takes us away from them: i.e., if either towards
or "away from" can have any meaning when
applied to two realms which are absolutely severed
from one another. Knowledge is always concerned
with the relations between things; with their like-
ness, or unlikeness, their laws, or connections; but
""
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
285
these are universals, and things are individuals.
Science knows the laws of things, but not the
things; it reveals how one object affects another,
how it is connected with it; but what are the
things themselves, which are connected, it does not
know. The laws are mere forms of thought,
"bloodless categories," and not facts. They may
somehow be regarded as explaining facts, but they
must not be identified with the facts. Knowledge
is the sphere of man's thoughts, and is made up
of ideas; real things are in another sphere, which
man's thoughts cannot reach. We must distinguish
more clearly than has hitherto been done, between
logic as the science of knowledge, and metaphysics
as a science which pretends to reveal the real nature
of things. In a word, we can know thoughts or
universals, but not things or particular existences.
"When existence is in question it is the individual,
not the universal, that is real; and the real indi-
vidual is not a composite of species and accidents,
but is individual to the inmost fibre of its being."
Each object keeps its own real being to itself. Its
inmost secret, its reality, is something that cannot
appear in knowledge. We can only know its mani-
festations; but these manifestations are not its
reality, nor connected with it. These belong to the
sphere of knowledge, they are parts in a system
of abstract thoughts; they do not exist in that
system, or no-system, of individual realities, each
of which, in its veritable being, is itself only, and
connected with nought beside.
286
ROBERT BROWNING.
Now, this view of the absolute impossibility of
knowing any reality, on account of the fundamental
difference between things and our thoughts about
things, contains a better promise of a true view
both of reality and of knowledge, than any of
the previously mentioned half-hearted theories. It
forces us explicitly either to regard every effort to
know as futile, or else to regard it as futile on this
theory of it. In other words, we must either give
up knowledge or else give up the account of know-
ledge advanced by these philosophers. Hitherto,
however, every philosophy that has set itself
against the possibility of the knowledge of reality
has had to give way. It has failed to shake the
faith of mankind in its own intellectual endowment,
or to arrest, even for a moment, the attempt by
thinking to know things as they are. The view
held by Berkeley, that knowledge is merely sub-
jective, because the essence of things consists in
their being perceived by the individual, and that
they are nothing but his ideas, was refuted by Kant,
when he showed that the very illusion of seeming
knowledge was impossible on that theory. And
this later view, which represents knowledge as
merely subjective, on the ground that it is the
product of the activity of the thought of mankind,
working according to universal laws, is capable of
being refuted in the same manner. The only differ-
ence between the Berkeleian and this modern
speculative theory is that, on the former view, each
individual constructed his own subjective entities
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
287
or illusions; while, on the latter, all men, by reason
of the universality of the laws of thought govern-
ing their minds, create the same illusion, the same
subjective scheme of ideas. Instead of each having
his own private unreality, as the product of his
perceiving activity, they have all the same, or at
least a similar, phantom-world of ideas, as the
result of their thinking. But, in both cases alike,
the reality of the world without is out of reach,
and knowledge is a purely subjective apprehension
of a world within. Thoughts are quite different
from things, and no effort of human reason can
reveal any community between them.
Now, there are certain difficulties which, so far
as I know, those who hold this view have scarcely
attempted to meet. The first of these lies in the
obvious fact, that all men at all times consider that
this very process of thinking, which the theory con-
demns as futile, is the only way we have of finding
out what the reality of things is. Why do we
reflect and think, except in order to pass beyond
the illusions of sensuous appearances to the know-
ledge of things as they are? Nay, why do these
philosophers themselves reflect, when reflection,
instead of leading to truth, which is knowledge of
reality, leads only to ideas, which, being universal,
cannot represent the realities that are said to be
individual."
(c
-
The second is, that the knowledge of " the laws "
of things gives to us practical command over them;
although, according to this view, laws are not things,
288
ROBERT BROWNING.
(C
nor any part of the reality of things, nor even
true representations of things. Our authority over
things seems to grow pari passu with our knowledge.
The natural sciences seem to prove by their practi-
cal efficiency, that they are not building up a world
of apparitions, like the real world; but gradually
getting inside nature, learning more and more to
wield her powers, and to make them the instru-
ments of the purposes of man, and the means of
his welfare. To common-sense,-which frequently
divines" truths that it cannot prove, and, like
ballast in a ship, has often given steadiness to
human progress although it is only a dead weight,
-the assertion that man knows nothing is as in-
credible as that he knows all things. If it is
replied, that the "things" which we seem to dom-
inate by the means of knowledge are themselves
only phenomena, the question arises, what then
are the real things to which they are opposed?
What right has any philosophy to say that there
is any reality which no one can in any sense know?
The knowledge that such reality is, is surely a
relation between that reality and consciousness,
and, if so, the assertion of an unknowable reality
is self-contradictory. For the conception of it is
the conception of something that is, and at the
same time is not, out of relation to consciousness.
To say what kind of thing reality is, is a still
more remarkable feat, if reality is unknowable.
Reality, being beyond knowledge, why is it called
particular or individual, rather than universal?
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
289
How is it known that the true being of things is
different from ideas? Surely both of the terms
must be regarded as known to some extent, if they
are called like or unlike, contrasted or compared,
opposed or identified.
But, lastly, this theory has to account for the fact
that it constitutes what is not only unreal, but
impossible, into the criterion of what is actual. If
knowledge of reality is altogether different from
human knowledge, how does it come to be its
criterion? That knowledge is inadequate or im-
perfect can be known, only by contrasting it with
its own proper ideal, whatever that may be. A
criticism by reference to a foreign or irrelevant
criterion, or the condemnation of a theory as
imperfect because it does not realize an impossible
end, is unreasonable. All true criticism of an
object implies a reference to a more perfect state
of itself.
We must, then, regard the knowledge of objects
as they are, which is opposed to human knowledge,
as only a completer and fuller form of that know-
ledge; or else we must cease to contrast it with our
human knowledge, as valid with invalid, true with
phenomenal. Either knowledge of reality is com-
plete knowledge, or else it is a chimera. And, in
either case, the sharp distinction between the real
and the phenomenal vanishes; and what remains,
is not a reality outside of consciousness, or different
from ideas, but a reality related to consciousness,
or, in other words, a knowable reality. "The dis-
10
290
ROBERT BROWNING.
tinction of objects into phenomena and noumena,
i.e., into things that for us exist, and things that
for us do not exist, is an Irish bull in philosophy,"
said Heine. To speak of reality as unknowable,
or to speak of anything as unknowable, is to utter
a direct self-contradiction; it is to negate in the
predicate what is asserted in the subject. It is
a still more strange perversion to erect this know-
able emptiness into a criterion of knowledge, and
to call the latter phenomenal by reference to it.
These difficulties are so fundamental and so
obvious, that the theory of the phenomenal nature
of human knowledge, which, being interpreted,
means that we know nothing, could scarcely main-
tain its hold, were it not confused with another fact
of human experience, that is apparently incon-
sistent with the doctrine that man can know the
truth. Side by side with the faith of ordinary con-
sciousness, that in order to know anything we must
think, or, in other words, that knowledge shows
us what things really are, there is a conviction,
strengthened by constant experience, that we never
know things fully. Every investigation into the
nature of an object soon brings us to an enigma,
a something more we do not know. Failing to
know this something more, we generally consider
that we have fallen short of reaching the reality
of the object. We recognize, as it has been ex-
pressed, that we have been brought to a stand,
and we therefore conclude that we are also brought
to the end. We arrive at what we do not know,
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
291
and we pronounce that unknown to be unknow-
able; that is, we regard it as something different in
nature from what we do know. So far as I can see,
the attitude of ordinary thought in regard to this
matter might be fairly represented by saying, that
it always begins by considering objects as capable
of being known in their reality, or as they are, and
that experience always proves the attempt to
know them as they are to be a failure. The effort
is continued although failure is the result, and even
although that failure be exaggerated and universal-
ized into that despair of knowledge which we have
described. We are thus confronted with what seems
to be a contradiction; a trust and distrust in
knowledge. It can only be solved by doing full
justice to both of the conflicting elements; and
then, if possible, by showing that they are elements,
and not the complete, concrete fact, except when
held together.

From one point of view, it is undeniable that in
every object of perception, we come upon problems
that we cannot solve. Science at its best, and even
when dealing with the simplest of things, is forced
to stop short of its final secret. Even when it
has discovered its law, there is still apparently
something over and above which science cannot
grasp, and which seems to give to the object its
reality. All the natural sciences concentrated on
a bit of iron ore fail to exhaust the truth in it:
there is always a "beyond" in it, something still
more fundamental which is not yet understood.
3

292
ROBERT BROWNING.
And that something beyond, that inner essence,
that point in which the laws meet and which the
sciences fail to lift into knowledge, is regarded as
just the reality of the thing. Thus the reality is
supposed, at the close of every investigation, to lie
outside of knowledge; and conversely, all that we
do know, seeing that it lacks this last element, seems
to be only apparent knowledge, or knowledge of
phenomena.
In this way the process of knowing seerns always
to stop short at the critical moment, when the truth
is just about to be reached. And those who dwell
on this aspect alone are apt to conclude that man's
intellect is touched with a kind of impotence, which
makes it useless when it gets near the reality. It
is like a weapon that snaps at the hilt just when
the battle is hottest. For we seem to be able to
know everything but the reality, and yet apart
from the real essence all knowledge seems to be
merely apparent. Physical science penetrates
through the outer appearances of things to their
laws, analyzes them into forms of energy, calculates
their action and predicts their effects with certainty.
Its practical power over the forces of nature is so
great that it seems to have got inside her secrets.
And yet science will itself acknowledge that in
every simplest object there is an unknown. Its
triumphant course of explaining seems to be always
arrested at the threshold of reality. It has no
theory, scarcely an hypothesis, of the actual
nature of things, or of what that is in each object,


KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL. 293
which constitutes it a real existence. Natural
science, with a scarcely concealed sneer, hands over
to the metaphysician all questions as to the real
being of things; and itself makes the more modest
pretension of showing how things behave, not
what they are; what effects follow the original
noumenal causes, but not the veritable nature of
these causes. Nor can the metaphysician, in his
turn, do more than suggest a hypothesis as to the
nature of the ultimate reality in things. He cannot
detect or demonstrate it in any particular fact. In
a word, every minutest object in the world baffles
the combined powers of all forms of human
thought, and holds back its essence or true being
from them. And as long as this true being, or
reality is not known, the knowledge which we
seem to have cannot be held as ultimately true,
but is demonstrably a makeshift.
Having made this confession, there seems to be
no alternative but to postulate an utter discrepancy
between human thought and real existence, or
between human knowledge and truth, which is the
correspondence of thing and thought. For, at no
point is knowledge found to be in touch with real
being; it is everywhere demonstrably conditioned
and relative, and inadequate to express the true
reality of its objects. What remains, then, except
to regard human knowledge as completely untrust-
worthy, as merely of phenomena? If we cannot
know any reality, does not knowledge completely
fail?
*
294
ROBERT BROWNING.
Now, in dealing with the moral life of man,
we saw that the method of hard alternatives is
invalid. The moral life, being progressive, was
shown to be the meeting-point of the ideal and
the actual; and the ideal of perfect goodness was
regarded as manifesting itself in actions which,
nevertheless, were never adequate to express it.
The good when achieved was ever condemned
as unworthy, and the ideal when attained ever
pressed for more adequate expression in a better
character. The ideal was present as potency, as
realizing itself, but it was never completely real-
ized. The absolute good was never reached in
the best action, and never completely missed in the
worst.
The same conflict of real and unreal was shown
to be essential to every natural life. As long as
anything grows it neither completely attains, nor
completely falls away from its ideal. The growing
acorn is not an oak tree, and yet it is not a mere
acorn, The child is not the man; and yet the
man is in the child, and only needs to be evolved
by interaction with circumstances. The process of
growth is one wherein the ideal is always present,
as a reconstructive power gradually changing its
whole vehicle, or organism, into a more perfect ex-
pression of itself. The ideal is reached in the end,
just because it is present in the beginning; and
there is no end as long as growth continues.
Now, it is evident that knowledge, whether it be
that of the individual man or of the human race,
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL. 295
is a thing that grows. The process by means of
which natural science makes progress, or by
which the consciousness of the child expands and
deepens into the consciousness of the man, is best
made intelligible from the point of view of evolu-
tion. It is like an organic process, in which each
new acquirement finds its place in an old order,
each new fact is brought under the permanent
principles of experience, and absorbed into an
intellectual life, which itself, in turn, grows richer
and fuller with every new acquisition. No know-
ledge worthy of the name is an aggregation of facts.
Wisdom comes by growth.
Hence, the assertion that knowledge never attains
reality, does not imply that it always misses it. In
morals we do not say that a man is entirely evil,
although he never, even in his best actions, attains
the true good. And if the process of knowing
is one that presses onward towards an ideal, that
ideal is never completely missed even in the poorest
knowledge. If it grows, the method of fixed alter-
natives must be inapplicable to it. The ideal,
whatever it may be, must be considered as active
in the present, guiding the whole movement, and
gradually manifesting itself in each of the passing
forms, which are used up as the raw material of
new acquirement; and yet no passing form com-
pletely expresses the ideal.
Nor is it difficult to say what that ideal of know-
lege is, although we cannot define it in any adequate
manner. We know that the end of morality is the
296
ROBERT BROWNING.
summum bonum, although we cannot, as long as we
are progressive, define its whole content, or find it
fully realized in any action. Every failure brings
new truth, every higher grade of moral character
reveals some new height of goodness to be scaled;
the moral ideal acquires definiteness and content
as humanity moves upwards. And yet the ideal
is not entirely unknown even at the first; even
to the most ignorant, it presents itself as a criterion
which enables him to distinguish between right and
wrong, evil and goodness, and which guides his
practical life. The same truth holds with regard
to knowledge. Its growth receives its impulse from,
and is directed and determined by, what is conceived
as the real world of facts. This truth, namely, that
the ideal knowledge is knowledge of reality, the most
subjective philosopher cannot but acknowledge. It
is implied in his condemnation of knowledge as
merely phenomenal, that there is possible a know-
ledge of real being. That thought and reality can
be brought together, or rather, that they are always
together, is presupposed in all knowledge and in
all experience. The effort to know is the effort
to explain the relation of thought and reality, not
to create it. The ideal of perfect knowledge is
present from the first; it generates the effort,
directs it, distinguishes between truth and error.
And that which man ever aims at, whether in the
ordinary activities of daily thought, or through the
patient labour of scientific investigation, or in the
reflective self-torture of philosophic thought, is to
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
297
know the world as it is. No failure damps the
ardour of this endeavour. Relativists, phenomenal-
ists, agnostics, sceptics, Kantians or Neo-Kantians
-all the crowd of thinkers who cry down the
human intellect, and draw a charmed circle around
reality so as to make it unapproachable to the
mind of man-ply this useless labour. They are
seeking to penetrate beneath the shows of sense
and the outer husk of phenomena to the truth,
which is the meeting-point of knowledge and reality;
they are endeavouring to translate into an intellec-
tual possession the powers that play within and
around them; or, in other words, to make these
powers express themselves in their thoughts, and
supply the content of their spiritual life. The irony,
latent in their endeavour, gives them no pause;
they are in some way content to pursue what they
call phantoms, and to try to satisfy their thirst with
the waters of a mirage. This comes from the pres-
ence of the ideal within them, that is, of the implicit
unity of reality and thought, which seeks for explicit
and complete manifestation in knowledge. The
reality is present in them as thinking activity,
working towards complete revelation of itself by
means of knowledge. And its presence is real,
although the process is never complete.
In knowledge, as in morals, it is necessary to
remember both of the truths implied in the pursuit
of an ideal—that a growing thing not only always
fails to attain, but also always succeeds. The
distinction between truth and error in knowledge is
298
ROBERT BROWNING.
present at every stage in the effort to attain truth,
as the distinction between right and wrong is present
in every phase of the moral life. It is the source of
the intellectual effort. But that distinction cannot
be drawn except by reference to a criterion of truth,
which condemns our actual knowledge; as it is the
absolute good, which condemns the present char-
acter. The ideal may be indefinite, and its content
confused and poor; but it is always sufficient for
its purpose, always better than the actual achieve-
ment. And, in this sense, reality, the truth, the
veritable being of things, is always reached by the
poorest knowledge. As there is no starved and
distorted sapling which is not the embodiment of
the principle of natural life, so the meanest char-
acter is the product of an ideal of goodness, and
the most confused opinion of ignorant mankind is
an expression of the reality of things. Without it
there would not be even the semblance of knowledge,
not even error and untruth.
Those who, like Browning, make a division
between man's thought and real things, and regard
the sphere of knowledge as touching at no point
the sphere of actual existence, are attributing to
the bare human intellect much more power than
it has. They regard mind as creating its phenom-
enal knowledge, or the apparent world. For,
having separated mind from reality, it is evident
that they cannot avail themselves of any doctrine
of sensations or impressions as a medium between
them, or postulate any other form of connection
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
299
or means of communication. Connection of any
kind must, in the end, imply some community of
nature, and must put the unity of thought and
being here denied beneath their difference.
Hence, the world of phenomena which we know,
and which as known, does not seem to consist of
realities, must be the product of the unaided human
mind. The intellect, isolated from all real being,
has manufactured the apparent universe, in all its
endless wealth. It is a creative intellect, although
it can only create illusions. It evolves all its pro-
ducts from itself.
A
But thought, set to revolve upon its own axis in
an empty region, can produce nothing, not even
illusions. And, indeed, those who deny that it is
possible for thought and reality to meet in a unity,
have, notwithstanding, to bring over "something"
to the aid of thought. There must be some effluence
from the world of reality, some manifestations of the
thing (though they are not the reality of the thing,
nor any part of the reality, nor connected with the
reality!) to assist the mind and supply it with data.
The "phenomenal world" is a hybrid, generated
by thought and "something "-which yet is not
reality; for the real world is a world of things in
themselves, altogether beyond thought. By bring-
ing in these data, it is virtually admitted that the
human mind reaches down into itself in vain for a
world, even for a phenomenal one.
Thought apart from things is quite empty, just as
things apart from thought are blind. Such thought
300
ROBERT BROWNING.
and such reality are mere abstractions, hyposta-
sized by false metaphysics; they are elements of
truth rent asunder, and destroyed in the rending.
The dependence of the intelligence of man upon
reality is direct and complete. The foolishest dream,
that ever played out its panorama beneath a night-
cap, came through the gates of the senses from the
actual world. Man is limited to his material in all
that he knows, just as he is ruled by the laws of
thought. He cannot go one step beyond it. To
transcend "experience" is impossible. We have
no wings to sustain us in an empty region, and no
need of any. It is as impossible for man to create
new ideas, as it is for him to create new atoms.
Our thought is essentially connected with reality.
There is no mauvais pas from thought to things.
We do not need to leap out of ourselves in order
to get into the world. We are in it from the first,
both as physical and moral agents, and as thinking
beings. Our thoughts are expressions of the real
nature of things, so far as they go. They may be
and are imperfect; they may be and are confused
and inadequate, and express only the superficial
aspects and not "the inmost fibres"; still, they
are what they are, in virtue of "the reality," which
finds itself interpreted in them. Severed from that
reality, they would be nothing.
Thus, the distinction between thought and reality
is a distinction within a deeper unity. And that
unity must not be regarded as something additional
to both, or as a third something. It is their unity.
•
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
301
It is both reality and thought: it is existing thought, .
or reality knowing itself and existing through its
knowledge of self; it is self-consciousness. The
distinguished elements have no existence or meaning
except in their unity. Like the actual and ideal,
they have significance and being, only in their
reference to each other.
There is one more difficulty connected with this
matter which I must touch upon, although the dis-
cussion may already be regarded as prolix. It is
acknowledged by every one that the knowledge of
the individual, and his apparent world of realities,
grow pari passu. Beyond his sphere of knowledge
there is no reality for him, not even apparent reality.
But, on the other hand, the real world of existing
things exists all the same whether he knows it or
not. It did not begin to be with any knowledge he
may have of it, it does not cease to be with his
extinction, and it is not in any way affected by his
valid, or invalid, reconstruction of it in thought.
The world which depends on his thought is his
world, and not the world of really existing things.
And this is true alike of every individual. The
world is independent of all human minds. It existed.
before them, and will, very possibly, exist after
them. Can we not, therefore, conclude that the
real world is independent of thought, and that it
exists without relation to it?
A short reference to the moral consciousness may
suggest the answer to this difficulty. In morality
(as also is the case in knowledge) the moral ideal,
302
ROBERT BROWNING.
or the objective law of goodness, grows in richness
and fulness of content with the individual who
apprehends it. His moral world is the counterpart
of his moral growth as a character. Goodness for
him directly depends upon his recognition of it.
Animals, presumably, have no moral ideal, because
they have not the power to constitute it. In morals,
as in knowledge, the mind of man constructs its own
world. And yet, in both alike, the world of truth
or of goodness exists all the same whether the indi-
vidual knows it or not. He does not call the moral
law into being, but finds it without, and then realizes
it in his own life. The moral law does not vanish
and reappear with its recognition by mankind. It
is not subject to the chances and changes of its life,
but a good in itself that is eternal.
Is it therefore independent of all intelligence?
Can goodness be anything but the law of a self-con-
scious being? Is it the quality or motive or ideal
of a mere thing? Manifestly not. Its relation to self-
consciousness is essential. With the extinction of
self-consciousness all moral goodness is extinguished.
The same holds true of reality. The question of
the reality or unreality of things cannot arise except
in an intelligence. Animals have neither illusions
nor truths-unless they are self-conscious. The
reality, which man sets over against his own in-
adequate knowledge, is posited by him; and it has
no meaning whatsoever except in this contrast.
And to endeavour to conceive a reality which no
one knows, is to assert a relative term without its
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
303
correlative, which is absurd; it is to posit an ideal
which is opposed to nothing actual.
In this view, so commonly held in our day, that
knowledge is subjective and reality unknowable,
we have another example of the falseness and in-
consistency of abstract thinking. If this error be
committed, there is no fundamental gain in saying
with Kant, that things are relative to the thought
of all, instead of asserting, with Berkeley or Brown-
ing, that they are relative to the thought of each.
The final result is the same. Things as known,
are reduced into mere creations of thought; things
as they are, are regarded as not thoughts, and as
partaking in no way of the nature of thought. And
yet "reality" is virtually assumed to be given at
the beginning of knowledge; for the sensations are
supposed to be emanations from it, or roused in
consciousness by it. These sensations, it is said,
man does not make, but receives, and receives from
the concealed reality. They flow from it, and are
the manifestations of its activity. Then, in the
next moment, reality is regarded as not given in
any way, but as something to be discovered by the
effort of thought; for we always strive to know
things, and not phantoms. Lastly, the knowledge
thus acquired being regarded as imperfect, and
experience showing to us continually that every
object has more in it than we know, the reality
is pronounced to be unknowable, and all knowledge
is regarded as failure, as acquaintance with mere
phantoms. Thus, in thought, as in morality, the
304
ROBERT BROWNING.
ideal is present at the beginning, it is an effort after
explicit realization, and its process is never complete.
Now, all these aspects of the ideal of knowledge,
that is, of reality, are held by the unsophisticated
intelligence of man; and abstract philosophy is
not capable of finally getting rid of any one of them.
It, too, holds them alternately. Its denial of the
possibility of knowing reality is refuted by its own
starting-point; for it begins with a given something,
regarded as real, and its very effort to know is
an attempt to know that reality by thinking. But
it forgets these facts, when it is discovered that
knowledge at the best is incomplete. It is thus
tossed from assertion to denial, and from denial
to assertion; from one abstract or one-sided view
of reality, to the other.
When these different aspects of truth are grasped
together from the point of view of evolution, there
seems to be a way of escaping the difficulties to
which they give rise. For the ideal must be present
at the beginning, and cannot be present in its fulness
till the process is complete. What is here required
is to lift our theory of man's knowledge to the
level of our theory of his moral life, and to treat
it frankly as the process whereby reality manifests
itself in the mind of man. In that way, we shall
avoid the absurdities of both of the abstract schools
of philosophy, to both of which alike the native
intelligence of man gives the lie. We shall say
neither that man knows nothing, nor that he knows
all; we shall regard his knowledge, neither as purely
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
305
phenomenal and out of all contact with reality,
nor as an actual identification with the real being of
things in all their complex variety. For, in morality,
we do not say either that the individual is absolutely
evil, because his actions never realize the supreme
ideal of goodness; nor, that he is at the last term of
development, and "taking the place of God," because
he lives as ever in his great Taskmaster's eye.”
Just as every moral action, however good, leaves
something still to be desiderated, something that
may become a stepping-stone for new movement
towards the ideal which it has failed to actualize;
so all our knowledge of an object leaves some-
thing over that we have not apprehended, which is
truer and more real than anything we know, and
which in all future effort we strive to master. And,
just as the very effort, to be good derives its impulse
and direction from the ideal of goodness which is
present, and striving for realization; so the effort
to know derives its impulse and direction from the
reality which is present, and striving for complete
realization in the thought of man.
We know reality
confusedly from the first; and it is because we have
attained so much knowledge, that we strive for
greater clearness and fulness. It is by planting his
foot on the world that man travels. It is by oppos-
ing his power to the given reality that his knowledge
grows.
(6
When once we recognize that reality is the ideal
of knowledge, we are able to acknowledge all the
truth that is in the doctrine of the phenomenalists,
306
ROBERT BROWNING.
<<
!
without falling into their errors and contradictions.
We may go as far as the poet in confessing intel-
lectual impotence, and roundly call the knowledge
of man "lacquered ignorance." Earth's least
atom" does veritably remain an enigma. Man is
actually flung back into his circumscribed sphere by
every fact; and he will continue to be so flung to the
end of time. He will never know reality, nor be able
to hold up in his hand the very heart of the simplest
thing in the world. For the world is an organic
totality, and its simplest thing will not be seen,
through and through, till everything is known, till
every fact and event is related to every other under
principles which are universal: just as goodness
cannot be fully achieved in any act, till the agent
is in all ways lifted to the level of absolute goodness.
Physics cannot reveal the forces which keep a stone
in its place on the earth, till it has traced the forces
that maintain the starry systems in their course.
No fact can be thoroughly known, i.e., known in its
reality, till the light of the universe has been focussed
upon it: and, on the other hand, to know any
subject through and through would be to explain
all being. The highest law and the essence of the
simple fact, the universal and the particular, can
only be known together, in and through one an-
other. Reality" in "the least atom" will be
known, only when knowledge has completed its
work, and the universe has become a transparent
sphere, penetrated in every direction by the shafts
of intelligence.
""
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
307
But this is only half the truth. If knowledge is
never complete, it is always completing; if reality is
never known, it is ever being known; if the ideal is
never actual, it is always being actualized. The
complete failure of knowledge is as impossible as
its complete success.. It is at no time severed from
reality; it is never its mere adumbration, nor are
its contents mere phenomena. On the contrary,
it is reality partially revealed, the ideal incom-
pletely actualized. Our very errors are the working
of reality within us, and apart from it they would
be impossible. The process towards truth by man
is the process of truth in man; the movement of
knowledge towards reality is the movement of
reality into knowledge. A purely subjective con-
sciousness which knows, such as the poet tried to
describe, is a self-contradiction: it would be a
consciousness at once related, and not related, to
the actual world. But man has no need to relate
himself to the world. He is already related, and
his task is to understand that relation, or, in other
words, to make both its terms intelligible. Man
has no need to go out from himself to facts; his
relation to facts is prior to his distinction from
them. The truth is that he cannot entirely lift
himself away from them, nor suspend his thoughts
in the void. In his inmost being he is creation's
voice, and in his knowledge he confusedly murmurs
its deep thoughts.
Browning was aware of this truth in its appli-
cation to man's moral nature. In speaking of the
308
ROBERT BROWNING.
#!
principle of love, he was not tempted to apply fixed
alternatives. On the contrary, he detected in the
"poorest love that was ever offered" the veritable
presence of that which is perfect and complete,
though never completely actualized. His interest
in the moral development of man, and his penetrative
moral insight, acting upon, and guided by the
truths of the Christian religion, warned him, on
this side, against the absolute separation of the
ideal and actual, the divine and human. Human
love, however poor in quality and limited in range,
was to him God's love in man. It was a wave break-
ing in the individual of that First Love, which is
ever flowing back through the life of humanity to
its primal source. To him all moral endeavour is the
process of this Primal Love; and every man, as
he consciously identifies himself with it, may use
the language of Scripture, and say, " It is not I that
live, but Christ lives in me."
But, on the side of knowledge, he was neither
so deeply interested, nor had he so good a guide
to lean upon. Ignorant, according to all appear-
ances, of the philosophy which has made the Chris-
tian maxim, "Die to live," which primarily is
only a principle of morality-the basis of its theory
of knowledge, he exaggerated the failure of science
to reach the whole truth as to any particular
object, into a qualitative discrepancy between
knowledge and truth. Because knowledge is never
complete, it is always mere lacquered ignorance ;
and man's apparent intellectual victories are only
KNOWLEDGE DOES NOT FAIL.
309
conquests in a land of unrealities, or mere phe-
nomena. He occupies in regard to knowledge, a
position strictly analogous to that of Carlyle, in
regard to morality; his intellectual pessimism is
the counterpart of the moral pessimism of his
predecessor, and it springs from the same error.
He forgot that the ideal without is also the power
within, which makes for its own manifestation in
the mind of man.
He opposed the intellect to the world, as Carlyle
opposed the weakness of man to the law of duty;
and he neglected the fact that the world was there
for him, only because he knew it, just as Carlyle
neglected the fact that the duty was without, only
because it was recognized within. He strained the
difference between the ideal and actual into an
absolute distinction; and, as Carlyle condemned
man to strive for a goodness which he could
never achieve, so Browning condemns him to pur-
sue a truth which he can never attain. In both,
the failure is regarded as absolute.
There is no
good in us," has for its counterpart
There is no
truth in us." Both the moralist and the poet dwell
on the negative relation of the ideal and actual,
and forget that the negative has no meaning, except
as the expression of a deeper affirmative. Carlyle
had to learn that we know our moral imperfection,
only because we are conscious of a better within
us; and Browning had to learn that we are aware
of our ignorance, only because we have the con-
sciousness of fuller truth with which we contrast
"C
""
310
ROBERT BROWNING.
our knowledge. Browning, indeed, knew that the
consciousness of evil was itself evidence of the
presence of good, that perfection means death, and
progress is life, on the side of morals; but he has
missed the corresponding truth on the side of
knowledge. If he acknowledges that the highest
revealed itself to man, on the practical side, as
love; he does not see that it has also manifested
itself to man, on the theoretical side, as reason.
The self-communication of the Infinite is incom-
plete love is a quality of God, intelligence a quality
of man; hence, on one side, there is no limit to
achievement, but on the other there is impotence.
Human nature is absolutely divided against itself;
and the division, as we have already seen, is not
between flesh and spirit, but between a love which
is God's own and perfect, and an intelligence which
is merely man's and altogether weak and deceptive.
This is what makes Browning think it im-
possible to re-establish faith in God, except by
turning his back on knowledge; but whether it is
possible for him to appeal to the moral conscious-
ness, we shall inquire in the next chapter.
CHAPTER X.
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.-LOVE AND REASON.
"And though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play
upon the earth, so truth be in the field, we do injuriously by
licensing and prohibiting to misdoubt her strength. Let her
and falsehood grapple; who ever knew truth put to the worse,
in a free and open encounter." *
IT
has been shown that Browning appeals, in
defence of his optimistic faith, from the intel-
lect to the heart. His theory rests on three main
assumptions:-namely (1) that knowledge of the
true nature of things is impossible to man, and
that, therefore, it is necessary to find other and
better evidence than the intellect can give for the
victory of good over evil; (2) that the failure of
knowledge is a necessary condition of the moral
life, inasmuch as certain knowledge would render
all moral effort either futile or needless; (3) that
after the failure of knowledge there still remains
possible a faith of the heart, which can furnish a
sufficient objective basis to morality and religion.
The first of these assumptions I endeavoured to
deal with in the last chapter. I now turn to the
remaining two.
* Milton's Areopagitica.
312
ROBERT BROWNING..
Demonstrative, or certain, or absolute knowledge
of the actual nature of things would, Browning
asserts, destroy the very possibility of a moral life.*
For such knowledge would show either that evil is
evil, or that evil is good; and, in both cases alike,
the benevolent activity of love would be futile.
In the first case, it would be thwarted and arrested
by despair; for, if evil be evil, it must remain evil
for aught that man can do. Man cannot effect a
change in the nature of things, nor create a good
in a world dominated by evil. In the second case,
the saving effect of moral love would be unnecessary ;
for, if evil be only seeming, then all things are
perfect and complete, and there is no need of in-
terference. It is necessary, therefore, that man
should be in a permanent state of doubt as to the
real existence of evil; and, whether evil does
exist or not, it must seem, and only seem to exist
to man, in order that he may devote himself to the
service of good. †
Now, if this view of the poet be taken in the
strict sense in which he uses it in this argument, it
admits of a very easy refutation. It takes us be-
yond the bounds of all possible human experience,
into an imaginary region, as to which all assertions.
are equally valueless. It is impossible to conceive
how the conduct of a being who is moral would
be affected by absolute knowledge; or, indeed,
to conceive the existence of such a being. For
morality, as the poet insists, is a process in which
* See Chapter VIII., p. 255.
† Ibid.
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
313
an ideal is gradually realized through conflict with
the actual-an actual which it both produces and
transmutes at every stage of the progress. But
complete knowledge would be above all process.
Hence we would have, on Browning's hypothesis,
to conceive of a being in whom perfect knowledge
was combined with an undeveloped will. A being
so constituted would be an agglomerate of utterly
disparate elements, the interaction of which in a
single character it would be impossible to make
intelligible.
But, setting aside this point, there is a curious
flaw in Browning's argument, which indicates that
he had not distinguished between two forms of
optimism which are essentially different from each
other, namely, the pantheistic and the Christian.
To know that evil is only apparent, that pain is
only pleasure's mask, that all forms of wickedness
and misery are only illusions of an incomplete in-
telligence, would, he argues, arrest all moral action
and stultify love. For love-which necessarily im-
plies need in its object—is the principle of all right
action. In this he argues justly, for the moral life
is essentially a conflict and progress; and, in a
world in which "white ruled unchecked along the
line," there would be neither the need of conflict
nor the possibility of progress. And, on the other
hand, if the good were merely a phantom, and evil
the reality, the same destruction of moral activity
would follow. "White may not triumph," in this
absolute manner, nor may we "clean abolish, once
'314
ROBERT BROWNING.
and evermore, white's faintest trace." There must
be" the constant shade cast on life's shine.”
All this is true; but the admission of it in no way
militates against the conception of absolutely valid
knowledge; nor is it any proof that we need live
in the twilight of perpetual doubt, in order to be
moral. For the knowledge, of which Browning
speaks, would be knowledge of a state of things in
which morality would be really impossible; that is,
it would be knowledge of a world in which all was
evil or all was good. On the other hand, valid
knowledge of a world in which good and evil are
in conflict, and in which the former is realized
through victory over the latter, would not destroy
morality. What is inconsistent with the moral life
is the conception of a world where there is no
movement from evil to good, no evolution of char-
acter, but merely the stand-still life of "Rephan."
But absolutely certain knowledge that the good is
at issue with sin in the world, that there is no way
of attaining goodness except through conflict with
evil, and that moral life, as the poet so frequently
insists, is a process which converts all actual at-
tainment into a dead self, from which we can rise
to higher things-a self, therefore, which is rela-
tively evil-would, and does, inspire morality. It
is the deification of evil not negated or over-
come, of evil as it is in itself and apart from all
process, which destroys morality. And the same
is equally true of a pantheistic optimism, which
asserts that all things are good. But it is not true
THE HEART AND THE HEAD. 315
of a Christian optimism, which asserts that all
things are working together for good. For such
optimism implies that the process of negating or
overcoming evil is essential to the attainment of
goodness; it does not imply that evil, as evil, is
ever good. Evil is unreal, only in the sense that it
cannot withstand the power which is set against
it. It is not mere semblance, a mere negation or
absence of being; it is opposed to the good, and
its opposition can be overcome, only by the moral
effort which it calls forth. An optimistic faith of
this kind can find room for morality; and, indeed,
it furnishes it with the religious basis it needs.
Browning, however, has confused these two forms.
of optimism; and, therefore, he has been driven.
to condemn knowledge, because he knew no alter-
native but that of either making evil eternally real,
or making it absolutely unreal. A third alternative,
however, is supplied by the conception of moral
evolution. Knowledge of the conditions on which
good can be attained-a knowledge that amounts to
conviction—is the spring of all moral effort; whereas
an attitude of permanent doubt as to the distinction
between good and evil would paralyse it. Such a
doubt must be solved before man can act at all,
or choose one end rather than another. All action
implies belief, and the ardour and vigour of moral
action can only come from a belief which is whole-
hearted.
The further assertion, which the poet makes in
La Saisiaz, and repeats elsewhere, that sure know-
316
ROBERT BROWNING.
ledge of the consequences that follow good and evil
actions would necessarily lead to the choice of good
and the avoidance of evil, and destroy morality by
destroying liberty of choice, raises the whole ques-
tion of the relation of knowledge and conduct, and
cannot be adequately discussed here. It may be
said, however, that it rests upon a confusion be-
tween two forms of necessity: namely, natural and
spiritual necessity. In asserting that knowledge of
the consequences of evil would determine human
action in a necessary way, the poet virtually treats
man as if he were a natural being. But the as-
sumption that man is responsible and liable to
punishment, involves that he is capable of with-
standing all such determination. And knowledge
does not and cannot lead to such necessary deter-
mination. Reason brings freedom; for reason con-
stitutes the ends of action.
It is the constant desire of the good to attain
to such a convincing knowledge of the worth and
dignity of the moral law that they shall be able to
make themselves its devoted instruments. Their
desire is that "the good" shall supplant in them.
all motives that conflict against it, and be the
inner principle, or necessity, of all their actions.
Such complete devotion to the good is expressed,
for instance, in the words of the Hebrew Psalmist :
"Thy testimonies have I taken as an heritage for
ever; for they are the rejoicing of my heart. I
have inclined mine heart to perform Thy statutes
alway, even unto the end. I hate vain thoughts,
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
317
but Thy law do I love." "Nevertheless I live,"
said the Christian apostle, "yet not I, but Christ
liveth in me; and the life which I now live in
the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God.”
In these words there is expressed that highest form
of the moral life, in which the individual is so iden-
tified in desire with his ideal, that he lives only
to actualize it in his character. The natural self is
represented as dead, and the victory of the new
principle is viewed as complete. This full obedi-
ence to the ideal is the service of a necessity; but
the necessity is within, and the service is, there-
fore, perfect freedom. The authority of the law is
absolute, but the law is self-imposed. The whole
man is convinced of its goodness. He has acquired
something even fuller than a mere intellectual
demonstration of it; for his knowledge has ripened
into wisdom, possessed his sympathies, and become
a disposition of his heart. And the fulness and
certainty of his knowledge, so far from rendering
morality impossible, is its very perfection. To bring
about such a knowledge of the good of goodness
and the evil of evil, as will engender love of the
former and hatred of the latter, is the aim of all
moral education. Thus, the history of human life,
in so far as it is progressive, may be concentrated
in the saying that it is the ascent from the power
of a necessity which is natural, to the power of a
necessity which is moral. And this latter neces-
sity can come only through fuller and more con-
vincing knowledge of the law that rules the
318
ROBERT BROWNING.
world, and is also the inner principle of man's
nature.
There remains now the third element in Brown
ing's view,—namely, that the faith in the good
implied in morality and religion, can be firmly
established, after knowledge has turned out decep-
tive, upon the individual's consciousness of the
power of love within himself. In other words, I
must now try to estimate the value of Browning's
appeal from the intellect to the heart.
Before doing so, however, it may be well to repeat
once more that Browning's condemnation of know-
ledge, in his philosophical poems, is not partial or
hesitating. On the contrary, he confines it definitely
to the individual's consciousness of his own inner
states.
"Myself I solely recognize.
They, too, may recognize themselves, not me,
For aught I know or care.” *
Nor does Browning endeavour to correct this limited
testimony of the intellect as to its own states, by
bringing in the miraculous aid of revelation, or by
postulating an unerring moral faculty. He does not
assume an intuitive power of knowing right from
wrong; but he maintains that ignorance enwrap:
man's moral sense.†
And, not only are we unable to know the rule of
right and wrong in details, but we cannot know
whether there is right or wrong.
At times the poet
* A Bean-Stripe. See also La Saisiaz.
† See Chapter VIII.
320
ROBERT BROWNING.
Nevertheless, the distinction made by Browning
between the intellectual and emotional elements of
human life is very common in religious thought. It
is not often, indeed, that either the worth of love,
or the weakness of knowledge receives such emphatic
expression as that which is given to them by the
poet; but the same general idea of their relation
is often expressed, and still more often implied.
wning differs from our ordinary teachers mainly
boldness of his affirmatives and negatives.
oo, regard the intellect as merely human, and
otion of love as divine. They, too, shrink
identifying the reason of man with the
of God; even though they may recognize
rality and religion must postulate some kind
y between God and man. They, too, con-
at human knowledge differs in nature from
God, while they maintain that human
is the same in nature with that of God,
lifferent in degree and fulness. There are
ls of knowledge, but there is only one kind
or mercy, or lovin kindness. Man must
nt with a semblar of a knowledge of
but a semblance of goodness would be
ntolerable. God really reveals Himself to man in
morality and religion, and He communicates to
man nothing less than the divine love." But
there is no such close connection on the side of
reason. The religious life of man is a divine
principle, the indwelling of God in him; but there
is a final and fatal defect in man's knowledge.
,
("

5
I
¿
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
319
seems inclined to say that evil is a phenomenon con-
jured up by the frail intelligence of man.
Man's fancy makes the fault!
Man, with the narrow mind, must cram inside
His finite God's infinitude,-earth's vault
(c
He bids comprise the heavenly far and wide,
Since Man may claim a right to understand
What passes understanding."

God's ways are past finding out. Nay, God
Himself is unknown. At times, indeed, the
to love within man seems to the poet to be a
the nature of the Power without, and God is
revealed in this surpassing emotion of the
heart. But, when philosophizing, he with
even this amount of knowledge. He is
"Assured that, whatsoe'er the quality
Of love's cause, save that love was caused there
This-nigh upon revealment as it seemed
A minute since-defies thy longing looks,
Withdrawn into the unknowable once more.
Thus-to sum up Browning's view of know
we are ignorant of the world; we do not kn
whether it is good, or evil, or only their ser
that is presented to us in human life; and we
nothing of God, except that He is the cause of love
in man. What greater depth of agnosticism is
possible?
When the doctrine is put in this bald form, the
moral and religious consciousness of man, on behalf
of which the theory was invented, revolts against it.
† A Pillar at Sebzevar.
*Bernard de Mandeville.
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
321
The divine love's manifestation of itself is ever
incomplete, it is true, even in the best of men;
but there is no defect in its nature.
As a consequence of this doctrine, few religious
opinions are more common at the present day, than
that it is necessary to appeal, on all the high con-
cerns of man's moral and religious life, from the
intellect to the heart. Where we cannot know, we
may still feel; and the religious man may have, in
his own feeling of the divine, a more intimate
conviction of the reality of that in which he trusts,
than could be produced by any intellectual process.
Enough to say, 'I feel
Love's sure effect, and, being loved, must love
The love its cause behind,—I can and do.'"*
í
Reason, in trying to scale the heights of truth,
falls back, impotent and broken, into doubt and
despair; not by that way can we come to that
which is best and highest.
C6
"I found Him not in world or sun,
Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;
Nor thro' the questions men may try,
The petty cobwebs we have spun.” †
But there is another way to find God and to
conquer doubt.
"If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,
I heard a voice 'believe no more,'
And heard an ever-breaking shore
That tumbled in the Godless deep;
* A Pillar at Sebzevar.
† In Memoriam.
II
322
· ROBERT BROWNING.
A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answer'd 'I have felt.'"*
What, then, I have now to ask, is the meaning
and value of this appeal to emotion? Can love,
or emotion in any of its forms, reveal truths to man
which his intellect cannot discover? If so, how?
If not, how shall we account for the general convic-
tion of good men that it can ? We have, in a word,
either to justify the appeal to the heart, by explain-
ing how the heart may utter truths that are hidden
from reason; or else to account for the illusion,
by which religious emotion seems to reveal such
truths.
The first requirement is shown to be unreasonable
by the very terms in which it is made. The intuitive
insight of faith, the immediate conviction of the
heart, cannot render, and must not try to render,
any account of itself. Proof is a process; but
there is no process in this direct conviction of truth.
Its assertion is just the denial of process; it is a
repudiation of all connections; in such a faith of
feeling there are no cob-web lines relating fact to fact,
which doubt could break. Feeling is the immediate
unity of the subject and object. I am pained,
because I cannot rid myself of an element which is
already within me; I am lifted into the emotion of
pleasure, or happiness, or bliss, by the consciousness
that I am already at one with an object that fulfils
* In Memoriam.
ľ
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
323
my longings and satisfies my needs. Hence, there
seems to be ground for saying that, in this instance,
the witness cannot lie; for it cannot go before the
fact, as it is itself the effect of the fact. If the
emotion is pleasurable it is the consciousness of the
unity within; if it is painful, of the disunity. In
feeling, I am absolutely with myself; and there
seems, therefore, to be no need of attempting to
justify, by means of reason, a faith in God which
manifests itself in emotion. The emotion itself is
its own sufficient witness, a direct result of the
intimate union of man with the object of devotion.
Nay, we may go further, and say that the demand
is an unjust one, which betrays ignorance of the
true nature of moral intuition and religious feeling.
I am not concerned to deny the truth that lies
in the view here stated; and no advocate of the
dignity of human reason, or of the worth of human
knowledge, is called upon to deny it. There is a
sense in which the conviction of "faith" or "feeling"
is more intimate and strong than any process of
proof. But this does not in any wise justify the
contention of those who maintain that we can feel
what we do not in any sense know, or that the heart
can testify to that of which the intellect is absolutely
silent.
"So let us say-not 'Since we know, we love,'
But rather, 'Since we love, we know enough.'
* " *
In these two lines there are combined the truth I
* A Pillar at Sebzevar.
!
324
ROBERT BROWNING.
"C
would acknowledge, and the error I would confute.
Love is, in one way, sufficient knowledge; or, rather,
it is the direct testimony of that completest know-
ledge, in which subject and object interpenetrate.
For, where love is, all foreign elements have been
eliminated. There is not one and one with a
shadowy third"; but the object is brought within
the self as constituting part of its very life. This
is involved in all the great forms of human thought
-in science and art, no less than in morality and
religion. It is the truth that we love, and only that,
which is altogether ours. By means of love the
poet is
"Made one with Nature. There is heard
His voice in all her music, from the moan
Of thunder to the song of night's sweet bird";
(C
and it is because he is made one with her that he
is able to reveal her inmost secrets. "Man," said
Fichte, can will nothing but what he loves; his
love is the sole and at the same time the infallible
spring of his volition, and of all his lite's striving
and movement." It is only when we have identified
ourselves with an ideal, and made its realization our
own interest, that we strive to attain it. Love is
revelation in knowledge, inspiration in art, motive
in morality, and the fulness of religious joy.
But, although in this sense love is greater than
knowledge, it is a grave error to separate it from
knowledge. In the life of man at least, the separa-
tion of the emotional and intellectual elements ex-
tinguishes both. We cannot know that in which we
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
325
have no interest. The very effort to comprehend an
object rests on interest, or the feeling of ourselves in
it; so that knowledge, as well as morality, may be
said to begin in love. We cannot know except we
love; but, on the other hand, we cannot love that
which we do not in some degree know. Wherever
the frontiers of knowledge may be it is certain that
there is nothing beyond them which can either
arouse feeling, or be a steadying centre for it.
Emotion is like a climbing plant. It clings to the
tree of knowledge, adding beauty to its strength.
But, without knowledge, it is impossible for man.
There is no feeling which is not also incipient know-
ledge; for feeling is only the subjective side of
knowledge-that face of the known fact which is
turned inwards.
If, therefore, the poet's agnosticism were taken
literally, and, in his philosophical poems he ob-
viously means it to be taken literally, it would lead
to a denial of the very principles of religion and
morality, which it was meant to support. His
appeal to love would then, strictly speaking, be
an appeal to the love of nothing known, or know-
able; and such love is impossible. For love, if it
is to be distinguished from the organic impulse of
beast towards beast, must have an object. A mere
instinctive activity of benevolence in man, by means
of which he lightened the sorrows of his brethren,
if not informed with knowledge, would have no
more moral worth than the grateful warmth of the
sun. Such love as this there may be in the animal
326
ROBERT BROWNING.
creation. If the bird is not rational, we may say
that it builds its nest and lines it for its brood,
pines for its partner and loves it, at the bidding
of the returning spring, in much the same way
as the meadows burst into flower. Without know-
ledge, the whole process is merely a natural one;
or, if it be more, it is so only in so far as the life
of emotion can be regarded as a foretaste of the life
of thought. But such a natural process is not
possible to man. Every activity in him is relative
to his self-consciousness, and takes a new character
from that relation. His love at the best and worst
is the love of something that he knows, and in which
he seeks to find himself made rich with new suffi-
ciency. Thus love can not ally" itself with
ignorance. It is, indeed, an impulse pressing for
the closer communion of the lover with the object
of his love.
""
"Like two meteors of expanding flame,
Those spheres instinct with it become the same,
Touch, mingle, are transfigured; ever still
Burning, yet ever inconsumable;
In one another's substance finding food.” *
But, for a being such as Browning describes, who
is shut up within the blind walls of his own self,
the self-transcending impulse of love would be im-
possible. If man's inner consciousness is to be
conceived as a dark room shutting out the world,
upon whose shadowy phenomena the candle of in-
trospection throws a dim and uncertain light, then
*Shelley's Epipsychidion.
THE HEART AND THE HEAD. 327
he can have no interest outside of himself; nor can
he ever take that first step in goodness, which carries
him beyond his narrow individuality to seek and
find a larger self in others. Morality, even in its
lowest form, implies knowledge, and knowledge
of something better than "those apparent other
mortals." With the first dawn of the moral life
comes the consciousness of an ideal, which is not
actual; and such a break with the natural is not
possible except to him who has known a better
and desired it. The ethical endeavour of man is
the attempt to convert ideas into actuality; and
all his activity as moral agent takes place within
the sphere that is illumined by the light of know-
ledge. If knowledge breaks down, there is no law
of action which he can obey. The moral law that
must be apprehended, and whose authority must be
recognized by man, either sinks out of being or
becomes an illusive phantom, if man is doomed to
ignorance or false knowledge. To extinguish truth
is to extinguish goodness.
In like manner, religion, which the poet would
fain defend for man by means of agnosticism, be-
comes impossible, if knowledge be denied. Religion
is not blind emotion; nor can mere feeling, how-
ever ecstatic, ascend to God. Animals feel, but
they are not, and cannot be, religious-unless they
can know. The love of God implies knowledge.
(C
I know Him whom I have believed" is the lan-
guage of religion. For what is religion but a con-
scious identification of the self with One who is
328
ROBERT BROWNING.
known to fulfil its needs and satisfy its aspirations?
Agnosticism is thus directly destructive of it. We
cannot, indeed, prove God as the conclusion of a
syllogism, for He is the primary hypothesis of all
proof. But, nevertheless, we cannot reach Him
without knowledge. Emotion reveals no object,
but is consequent upon the revelation of it; feeling
yields no truth, but is the witness of the worth of a
truth for the individual. If man were shut up to
mere feeling, even the awe of the devout agnostic
would be impossible. For the Unknowable cannot
generate any emotion. It appears to do so, only
because the Unknowable of the agnostic is not
altogether unknown to him; but is a vast, abysmal
"Something," that has occupied with its shadowy
presence the field of his imagination. It is paganism
stricken with the plague, and philosophy afflicted
with blindness, that build altars to an unknown
God. The highest and the strongest faith, the
deepest trust and the most loving, come with the
fullest knowledge. Indeed, the distinction between
the awe of the agnostic, which is the lowest form of
religion, and that highest form in which perfect love
casteth out fear, springs from the fuller knowledge
of the nature of the object of worship, which the
latter implies. Thus, religion and morality grow
with the growth of knowledge; and neither has a
worse enemy than ignorance. The human spirit
cannot grow in a one-sided manner. Devotion to
great moral ends is possible, only through the
deepening and widening of man's knowledge of the
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
329
nature of the world. Those who know God best,
render unto Him the purest service.
So evident is this, that it seems at first sight to
be difficult to account for that antagonism to the
intellect and distrust of its deliverances, which are
so emphatically expressed in the writings of Brown-
ing, and which are marked characteristics of the
ordinary religious opinion of our day. On closer
examination, however, we shall discover that it is
not pure emotion, or mere feeling, whose authority
is set above that of reason, but rather the emotion
which is the result of knowledge. The appeal of the
religious man from the doubts and difficulties,
which reason levels against "the faith," is really an
appeal to the character that lies behind the emotion.
The conviction of the heart, that refuses to yield
to the arguments of the understanding, is not
mere feeling; but, rather, the complex experience
of the past life, that manifests itself in feeling.
When an individual, clinging to his moral or re-
ligious faith, says, “I have felt it," he opposes to
the doubt, not his feeling as such, but his person-
ality in all the wealth of its experience. The appeal
to the heart is the appeal to the unproved, but not,
therefore, unauthorized, testimony of the best men
at their best moments, when their vision of truth
is clearest. No one pretends that "the loud and
empty voice of untrained passion and prejudice
has any authority in matters of moral and religious
faith; though, in such cases, feeling" may lack
neither depth nor intensity. If the "feelings" of
"
"
330
ROBERT BROWNING.
the good man were dissociated from his character,
and stripped bare of all the significance they obtain
therefrom, their worthlessness would become appar-
ent. The profound error of condemning knowledge
in order to honour feeling, is hidden only by the fact
that the feeling is already informed and inspired with
knowledge. Religious agnosticism, like all other
forms of the theory of nescience, derives its plausi-
bility from the adventitious help it purloins from
the knowledge which it condemns.
That it is to such feeling that Browning really
appeals against knowledge becomes abundantly
evident, when we bear in mind that he always calls
it "love." For love in man is never ignorant. It
knows its object, and is a conscious identification
of the self with it. And to Browning, the object
of love, when love is at its best-of that love by
means of which he refutes intellectual pessimism-
is mankind. The revolt of the heart against all
evil is a desire for the good of all men. In other
words, his refuge against the assailing doubts which
spring from the intellect, is in the moral conscious-
But that consciousness is no mere emotion;
it is a consciousness which knows the highest good,
and moves in sympathy with it. It is our maturest
wisdom; for it is the manifestation of the presence
and activity of the ideal, the fullest knowledge
and the surest. Compared with this, the emotion
linked to ignorance, of which the poet speaks in
his philosophic theory, is a very poor thing. It is
poorer than the lowest human love.
ness.
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
331
Now, if this higher interpretation of the term
"heart" be accepted, it is easily seen why its
authority should seem higher than that of reason;
and particularly, if it be remembered that, while
the heart is thus widened to take in all direct
consciousness of the ideal, "the reason” is reduced
to the power of reflection, or mental analysis.
"The heart," in this sense, is the intensest unity
of the complex experiences of a whole life, while
"the reason" is taken merely as a faculty which
invents arguments, and provides grounds and evi-
dences; it is what is called, in the language of
German philosophy, the "understanding." Now, in
this sense, the understanding has, at best, only a
borrowed authority. It is the faculty of rules rather
than of principles. It is ever dogmatic, assertive,
repellent, hard; and it always advances its forces
in single line. Its logic never convinced any one
of truth or error, unless, beneath the arguments
which it advanced, there lay some deeper principle
of concord. Thus, the opposition between "faith
and reason," rightly interpreted, is that between a
concrete experience, instinct with life and convic-
tion, and a mechanical arrangement of abstract
arguments. The quarrel of the heart is not with
reason, but with reasons. Evidences of Christi-
anity?" said Coleridge; "I am weary of the word."
It is this weariness of evidence, of the endless
arguments pro and con, which has caused so many
to distrust reason and knowledge, and which has
sometimes driven believers to the dangerous ex-
(C
332
ROBERT BROWNING.
""
pedient of making their faith dogmatic and abso-
lute. Nor have the opponents of " the faith" been
slow to seize the opportunity thus offered them.
From the moment that a religion solicits the aid
of philosophy, its ruin is inevitable," said Heine.
"In the attempt at defence, it prates itself into
destruction. Religion, like every absolutism, must
not seek to justify itself. Prometheus is bound to
the rock by a silent force. Yea, Aeschylus permits
not personified power to utter a single word. It
must remain mute. The moment that a religion
ventures to print a catechism supported by argu-
ments, the moment that a political absolutism
publishes an official newspaper, both are near their
end. But therein consists our triumph: we have
brought our adversaries to speech, and they must
reckon with us. But, we may answer, religion is
not an absolutism; and, therefore, it is not near its
end when it ventures to justify itself. On the
contrary, no spiritual power, be it moral or re-
ligious, can maintain its authority, if it assumes a
despotic attitude; for the human spirit inevitably
moves towards freedom, and that movement is the
deepest necessity of its nature, which it cannot
escape. Religion, on the ground of its sanctity,
and law, on the ground of its majesty, often resist
the sifting of their claims. But in so doing, they
inevitably awake a not unjust suspicion that their
claims are ill-founded. They can command the
unfeigned homage of man, only when they have
* Religion and Philosophy in Germany.
((
THE HEART AND THE HEAD. 333
shown themselves able to stand the test of free
inquiry."
And if it is an error to suppose, with Browning,
that the primary truths of the moral and religious
consciousness belong to a region which is higher
than knowledge, and can, from that side, be neither
assailed nor defended; it is also an error to
suppose that reason is essentially antagonistic to
them. The facts of morality and religion are pre-
cisely the richest facts of knowledge; and that
faith is the most secure which is most completely
illumined by reason. Religion at its best is not a
dogmatic despotism, nor is reason a merely critical
and destructive faculty. If reason is loyal to the
truth of religion on which it is exercised, it will
reach beneath all the conflict and clamour of dis-
putation, to the principle of unity, on which, as we
have seen, both reason and religion rest.
"
""
The "faith" to which religious spirits appeal
against all the attacks of doubt, the love of
Browning, is really implicit reason; it is "ab-
breviated or concentrated knowledge; it is the
manifold experiences of life focussed into an intense
unity. And, on the other hand, the "reason" which
they condemn is what Carlyle calls the logic-
chopping faculty. In taking the side of faith when
troubled with difficulties which they cannot lay, they
are really defending the cause of reason against
that of the understanding. For it is quite true
that the understanding, that is, the reason as reflec-
tive or critical, can never bring about either a
""
334
ROBERT BROWNING.
moral or religious life. It cannot create a religion,
any more than physiology can produce men. The
reflection which brings doubt is always secondary ;
it can only exercise itself on a given material.
As Hegel frequently pointed out, it is not the
function of moral philosophy to create or to in-
stitute a morality or religion, but to understand
them. The facts must first be given; they must
be actual experiences of the human spirit. Moral
philosophy and theology differ from the moral or
religious life, in the same way as geology differs
from the earth, or astronomy from the heavenly
bodies. The latter are facts; the former are
theories about the facts. Religion is an attitude of
the human spirit towards the highest; morality
is the realization of character; and these are not
to be confused with their reflective interpretations.
Much of the difficulty in these matters comes from
the lack of a clear distinction between beliefs and
creeds.
•
Further, not only are the utterances of the heart
prior to the deliverances of the intellect in this
sense, but it may also be admitted that the latter
can never do full justice to the contents of the
former. So rich is character in content and so
complex is spiritual life, that we can never, by
means of reflection, lift into clear consciousness all
the elements that enter into it. Into the organism
of our experience, which is our faith, there is con-
tinually absorbed the subtle influences of our com-
plex natural and social environment. We grow by
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
335
means of them, as the plant grows by feeding on
the soil and the sunshine and dew. It is as im-
possible for us to set forth, one by one, the truths
and errors which we have thus worked into our
mental and moral life, as it is to keep a reckoning
of the physical atoms with which the natural life
builds up the body. Hence, every attempt to
justify these truths seems inadequate; and the
defence which the understanding sets up for the
faith, always seems partial and cold. Who ever
fully expressed his deepest convictions? The con-
sciousness of the dignity of the moral law affected
Kant like the view of the starry firmament, and
generated a feeling of the sublime which words
could not express; and the religious ecstasy of
the saints cannot be confined within the channels
of speech, but floods the soul with overmastering
power, possessing all its faculties. In this respect,
it will always remain true that the greatest facts
of human experience reach beyond all knowledge.
Nay, we may add further, that in this respect the
simplest of these facts passes all understaneling.
Still, as we have already seen, it is reason that con-
stitutes them; that which is presented to reason
for explanation, in knowledge and morality and
religion, is itself the product of reason. Reason
is the power which, by interaction with our environ-
ment, has generated the whole of our experience.
And, just as natural science interprets the phenom-
ena given to it by ordinary opinion, i.e., interprets
and purifies a lower form of knowledge by con-
336
ROBERT BROWNING.
verting it into a higher; so the task of reason
when it is exercised upon morality and religion, is
simply to evolve, and amplify the meaning of its
own products. The movement from morality and
religion to moral philosophy and the philosophy of
religion, is thus a movement from reason to
reason, from the implicit to the explicit, from the
germ to the developed fulness of life and structure.
In this matter, as in all others wherein the human
spirit is concerned, that which is first by nature is
last in genesis--νικᾷ δ' ὁ πρῶτος καὶ τελευταῖος δραμών.
The whole history of the moral and religious ex-
perience of mankind is comprised in the statement,
that the implicit reason which we call "faith" is
ever developing towards full consciousness of itself;
and that, at its first beginning, and throughout
the whole ascending process of this development,
the highest is present in it as a self-manifesting
power.
But this process from the almost instinctive in-
tuitions of the heart towards the morality and
religion of freedom, being a process of evolution,
necessarily involves conflict. There are men, it is
true, the unity of whose moral and religious faith
fis never completely broken by doubt; just as there
are men who are not forced by the contradictions in
the first interpretation of the world by ordinary
experience to attempt to re-interpret it by means of
science and philosophy.
Throughout their lives they may say like Pom-
pilia-
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
337
"I know the right place by foot's feel,
I took it and tread firm there; wherefore change?
>> *
Jean Paul Richter said that he knew another way
of being happy, beside that of soaring away so far
above the clouds of life, that its miseries looked
small, and the whole external world shrunk into a
little child's garden. It was, "Simply to sink down
into this little garden; and there to nestle yourself
so snugly, so homewise, in some furrow, that in
looking out from your warm lark-nest, you like-
wise can discern no wolf-dens, charnel-houses, or
thunder-rods, but only blades and ears, every one of
which, for the nest-bird, is a tree, and a sun-screen,
and rain-screen." There is a similar way of being
good, with a goodness which, though limited, is pure
and perfect in nature. Nay, we may even admit that
such lives are frequently the most complete and
beautiful, just as the fairest flowers grow, not on the
tallest trees, but on the fragile plants at their foot.
Nevertheless, even in the case of those persons who
have never broken from the traditional faith of the
past, or felt it to be inadequate, that faith has been
silently reconstructed in a new synthesis of know-
ledge. Spiritual life cannot come by inheritance;
but every individual must acquire a faith for him-
self, and turn his spiritual environment into per-
sonal experience. "A man may be a heretic in the
truth," said Milton, "and if he believe things only
because his pastor says so, or the assembly so
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1886-1887.
338
ROBERT BROWNING.
determines, without knowing other reason, though
his belief be true, yet the very truth he holds
becomes his heresy." It is truth to another but
tradition to him; it is a creed and not a conviction.
Browning fully recognizes the need of this con-
flict-
(6
Is it not this ignoble confidence,
Cowardly hardihood, that dulls and damps,
Makes the old heroism impossible? " *
J
asks the Pope. The stream of truth when it ceases
to flow onward, becomes a malarious swamp.
Movement is the law of life; and knowledge of the
principles of morality and religion, as of all other
principles, must, in order to grow, be felt from
time to time as inadequate and untrue. There are
men and ages whose mission is—
3።
"to shake
This torpor of assurance from our creed,
Re-introduce the doubt discarded, bring
That formidable danger back, we drove
Long ago to the distance and the dark." †
Such a spirit of criticism seems to many to exer-
cise a merely destructive power, and those who
have not felt the inadequacy of the inherited faith
defend themselves against it, as the enemy of their
lives. But no logic, or assailing doubt, could have
power against the testimony of " the heart," unless
it was rooted in deeper and truer principles than
those which it attacked. Nothing can overpower
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1848-1850.
† Ibid., 1853-1856.
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
339
truth except a larger truth; and, in such a conflict,
the truth in the old view will ultimately take the
side of the new, and find its subordinate position
within it. It has happened, not infrequently, as in
the case of the Encyclopædists, that the explicit
truths of reason were more abstract, that is, less
true, than the implicit "faith" which they assailed.
The central truths of religion have often proved
+hemselves to possess some stubborn, though semi-
ticulate power, which could ultimately over-
come or subordinate the more partial and explicit
truths of abstract science. It is this that gives
plausibility to the idea, that the testimony of
the heart is more reliable than that of the intel-
lect. But, in this case also, it was really reason
the triumphed. It was the truth which proved
itself to be immortal, and not any mere emotion.
The insurrection of the intellect against the heart
is quelled, only when the untruth, or abstract char-
acter, of the principle of the assailants has been
made manifest, and when the old faith has yielded
up its unjust gains, and proved its vitality and
strength by absorbing the truth that gave vigour
to the attack. Just as in morality it is the ideal,
or the unity of the whole moral life, that breaks
up into differences, so also here it is the implicit
faith which, as it grows, breaks forth into doubts.
In both cases alike, the negative movement which
induces despair, is only a phase of a positive pro-
cess-the process of reason towards a fuller, a more
articulate and complex, realization of itself.
340
ROBERT BROWNING.
overcome.
Hence it follows that the value and strength of
a faith corresponds accurately to the doubts it has
Those who never went forth to battle
cannot come home heroes. It is only when the
earthquake has tried the towers, and destroyed the
sense of security, that
Man stands out again, pale, resolute,
Prepared to die,-that is, alive at last.
As we broke up that old faith of the world,
Have we, next age, to break up this the new-
Faith, in the thing, grown faith in the report—
Whence need to bravely disbelieve report
Through increased faith i' the thing reports belie ? " *
<<
CC
Well knows he who uses to consider, that our
faith and knowledge thrive by exercise, as well as
our limbs and complexion."
6
It was, thus, I conclude, a deep speculative error
into which Browning fell, when, in order to sub-
stantiate his optimistic faith, he stigmatized human
knowledge as merely apparent. Knowledge does
not fail, except in the sense in which morality also
fails; it does not at any time attain to the ultimate
truth, any more than the moral life is in any of
its activities † a complete embodiment of the abso-
lute good. It is not given to man, who is essen-
tially progressive, to reach the ultimate term of
development. For there is no ultimate term life
never stands still. But, for the same reason, there
is no ultimate failure. The whole history of man
is a history of growth. If, however, knowledge did
*The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1862-1868.
† See Chapter IX., p. 291.
THE HEART AND THE HEAD.
341
fail, then morality too must fail; and the appeal
which the poet makes from the intellect to the
heart, would be an appeal to mere emotion. Fin-
ally, even if we take a generous view of the poet's
meaning, and put out of consideration the theory
he expresses when he is deliberately philosophizing,
there is still no appeal from the reason to an alien
and higher authority. The appeal to "the heart "
is, at best, only an appeal from the understanding
to the reason, from a conscious logic to the more
concrete fact constituted by reason, which reflection
has failed to comprehend in its completeness; at
its worst, it is an appeal from truth to prejudice,
from belief to dogma.
And in both cases alike, the appeal is futile ;
for, whether "the heart be wiser than the head,"
or not, whether the faith which is assailed be
richer or poorer, truer or more false, than the
logic which is directed against it, an appeal to the
heart cannot any longer restore the unity of the
broken life. Once reflection has set in, there is no
way of turning away its destructive might, except
by deeper reflection. The implicit faith of the
heart must become the explicit faith of reason.
"There is no final and satisfactory issue from such
an endless internal debate and conflict, until the
'heart' has learnt to speak the language of the
head-i.e., until the permanent principles, which
underlay and gave strength to faith, have been
brought into the light of distinct consciousness.” *
* Caird's Comte.
342
ROBERT BROWNING.
I conclude, therefore, that the poet was right
in saying that, in order to comprehend human
character,
"I needs must blend the quality of man
With quality of God, and so assist
Mere human sight to understand my Life.” *
But it was a profound error, which contained in
it the destruction of morality and religion, as well
as of knowledge, to make "the quality of God" a
love that excludes reason, and the quality of man
an intellect incapable of knowing truth. Such in-
congruous elements could never be combined into
the unity of a character. A love that was mere
emotion could not yield a motive for morality, or
a principle of religion. A philosophy of life which
is based on agnosticism is an explicit self-contradic-
tion, which can help no one. We must appeal from
Browning the philosopher to Browning the poet.
* A Bean-Stripe-Ferishtah's Fancies.
CHAPTER XI.
*
CONCLUSION,
"Well, I can fancy how he did it all,
Pouring his soul, with kings and popes to see,
Reaching, that heaven might so replenish him,
Above and through his art-for it gives way;
That arm is wrongly put-and there again-
A fault to pardon in the drawing's lines,
Its body, so to speak: its soul is right,
He means right-that, a child may understand.” *
I
*
HAVE tried to show that Browning's theory
of life, in so far as it is expressed in his
philosophical poems, rests on agnosticism; and that
such a theory is inconsistent with the moral and
religious interests of man. The idea that truth is
unattainable was represented by Browning as a
bulwark of the faith, but it proved on examination
to be treacherous. His optimism was found to
have no better foundation than personal conviction,
which any one was free to deny, and which the
poet could in no wise prove. The evidence of the
heart, to which he appealed, was the evidence of
an emotion severed from intelligence, and, there-
*Andrea del Sarto.
344
ROBERT BROWNING.
fore, without any content whatsoever. "The
faith," which he professed, was not the faith that
anticipates and invites proof, but a faith which is
incapable of proof. In casting doubt upon the
validity of knowledge, he degraded the whole.
spiritual nature of man; for a love that is ignorant
of its object is a blind impulse, and a moral con-
sciousness that does not know the law is an im-
possible phantom-a self-contradiction.
But, although Browning's explicitly philosophical
theory of life fails, there appears in his earlier
poems, where his poetical freedom was not yet
trammelled, nor his moral enthusiasm restrained by
the stubborn difficulties of reflective thought, a far
truer and richer view. In this period of pure
poetry, his conception of man was less abstract
than in his later works, and his inspiration was
more direct and full. The poet's dialectical ingen-
uity increased with the growth of his reflective
tendencies; but his relation to the great principles
of spiritual life seemed to become less intimate,
and his expression of them more halting. What
we find in his earlier works are vigorous ethical
convictions, a glowing optimistic faith, achieving
their fitting expression in impassioned poetry;
what we find in his later works are arguments,
which, however richly adorned with poetic meta-
phors, have lost the completeness and energy of
life. His poetic fancies are like chaplets which
crown the dead. Lovers of the poet, who seek in
his poems for inspiring expressions of their hope
CONCLUSION.
345
and faith, will always do well in turning from his
militant metaphysics, to his art.
In his case, as in that of many others, spiritual
experience was far richer than the theory which
professed to explain it. The task of lifting his
moral convictions into the clear light of conscious
philosophy was beyond his power. The theory of
the failure of knowledge, which he seems to have
adopted far too easily from the current doctrine of
the schools, was fundamentally inconsistent with
his generous belief in the moral progress of man;
and it maimed the expression of that belief. The
result of his work as a philosopher is a confession
of complete ignorance and the helpless asseveration
of a purely dogmatic faith.
The fundamental error of the poet's philosophy
lies, I believe, in that severance of feeling and
intelligence, love and reason, which finds expression
in La Saisiaz, Ferishtah's Fancies, The Parleyings,
and Asolando. Such an absolute division is not to
be found in Christmas-Eve and Easter-Day, Rabbi
Ben Ezra, A Death in the Desert, or in The Ring
and the Book; nor even in Fifine at the Fair. In
these works we are not perplexed by the strange
combination of a nature whose principle is love, and
which is capable of infinite progress, with an intelli-
gence whose best efforts end in ignorance. Rather,
the spirit of man is regarded as one, in all its
manifestations; and, therefore, as progressive on all
sides of its activity. The widening of his knowledge,
which is brought about by increasing experience, is
346
ROBERT BROWNING.
*
parallel with the deepening and purifying of his
moral life. In all Browning's works, indeed, with the
possible exception of Paracelsus, love is conceived
as having a place and function of supreme impor-
tance in the development of the soul. Its divine
origin and destiny are never obscured; but know-
ledge is regarded as merely human, and, therefore,
as falling short of the truth. In Easter-Day it is
definitely contrasted with love, and shown to be
incapable of satisfying the deepest wants of man.
It is, at the best, only a means to the higher pur-
poses of moral activity, and, except in the Gram-
marian's Funeral, it is nowhere regarded as in
itself a worthy end.
(6
"Tis one thing to know, and another to practise.
And thence I conclude that the real God-function
Is to furnish a motive and injunction
For practising what we know already." *
Even here, there is implied that the motive comes
otherwise than by knowledge; still, taking these
earlier poems as a whole, we may say that in
them knowledge is regarded as means to morality
and not as in any sense contrasted with or destruc-
tive of it. Man's motives are rational motives; the
ends he seeks are ends conceived and even con-
stituted by his intelligence, and not purposes blindly
followed as by instinct and impulse.
"Why live,
Except for love-how love, unless they know ? "†
* Christmas-Eve and Easter-Day.
†The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1327-1328.
1
CONCLUSION.
347
asks the Pope. Moral progress is not secured
apart from, or in spite of knowledge. We are not
exhorted to reject the verdict of the latter as
illusive, in order to confide in a faith which not
only fails to receive support from the defective
intelligence, but maintains its own integrity only
by repudiating the testimony of the reason. In the
distinction between knowledge as means and love
as end, it is easy, indeed, to detect a tendency
to degrade the former into a mere temporary
expedient, whereby moral ends may be served.
The poet speaks of "such knowledge as is possible
The attitude he assumes towards it is
apologetic, and betrays a keen consciousness of its
limitation, and particularly of its utter inadequacy
to represent the infinite. In the speech of the
Pope-which can scarcely be regarded otherwise
than as the poet's own maturest utterance on the'
great moral and religious questions raised by the
tragedy of Pompilia's death we find this view
vividly expressed :-
to man.
"O Thou-as represented here to me
In such conception as my soul allows,-
Under Thy measureless, my atom width !—
Man's mind, what is it but a convex glass
Wherein are gathered all the scattered points
Picked out of the immensity of sky,
To reunite there, be our heaven for earth,
Our known unknown, our God revealed to man ? " *
God is
A
<<
appreciable in His absolute immensity
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1308-1315.
靠
​348
ROBERT BROWNING.
solely by Himself," while, "by the little mind of
man, He is reduced to littleness that suits man's
faculty." In these words, and others that might
be quoted, the poet shows that he is profoundly
impressed with the distinction between human
knowledge, and that knowledge which is adequate
to the whole nature and extent of being. And in
Christmas-Eve he repudiates with a touch of scorn,
the absolute idealism, which is supposed to identify
altogether human reason with divine reason; and
he commends the German critic for not making
"The important stumble
Of adding, he, the sage and humble,
Was also one with the Creator." *
Nowhere in Browning, unless we except Paracelsus,
is there any sign of an inclination to treat man's
knowledge in the same spirit as he deals with
man's love—namely, as a direct emanation from
the inmost nature of God, a divine element that
completes and crowns man's life on earth. On
the contrary, he shows a persistent tendency to
treat love as a power higher in nature than reason,
and to give to it a supreme place in the formation
of character; and, as he grows older, that tend-
ency grows in strength. The philosophical poems,
in which love is made all in all, and knowledge
is reduced to nescience follow by logical evolution
from principles, the influence of which we can
detect even in his earlier works. Still, in the
* Christmas-Eve.
室
​سم
CONCLUSION.
349
latter, these principles are only latent, and are far
from holding undisputed sway. Browning was, at
first, restrained from exclusive devotion to abstract
views, by the suggestions which the artistic spirit
receives through its immediate contact with the facts
of life. That contact it is very difficult for phi-
losophy to maintain as it pursues its effort after
universal truth. Philosophy is obliged to analyze
in order to define, and, in that process, it is apt
to lose something of that completeness of represen-
tation, which belongs to art. For art is always
engaged in presenting the universal in the form
of a particular object of beauty. Its product is a
known unknown," but the unknown is the unex-
hausted reality of a fact of intuition. Nor can
analysis ever exhaust it; theory can never catch
up art, or explain all that is in it. On similar
grounds, it may be shown that it is impossible for
reason to lay bare all the elements that enter into
its first complex product, which we call faith. In
religion, as in art, man is aware of more than he
knows; his articulate logic cannot do justice to all
the truths of the heart." "The supplementary
reflux of light" of philosophy cannot illustrate
all the inferior grades" of knowledge. Man will
never completely understand himself.
((
"C
""
66
I knew, I felt, (perception unexpressed,
Uncomprehended by our narrow thought,
But somehow felt and known in every shift
And change in the spirit,-nay, in every pore
Of the body, even,)—what God is, what we are,
What life is-how God tastes an infinite joy
350
ROBERT BROWNING.
In infinite ways-one everlasting bliss,
From whom all being emanates, all power
Proceeds." ***
I believe that it is possible, by the help of the
intuitions of Browning's highest artistic period, to
bring together again the elements of his broken
faith, and to find in them suggestions of a truer
philosophy of life than anything which the poet
himself achieved. Perhaps, indeed, it is not easy,
nor altogether fair, to press the passionate utterances
of his religious rapture into the service of meta-
physics, and to treat the unmeasured language of
emotion as the expression of a definite doctrine.
Nevertheless, rather than set forth a new defence of
the faith, which his agnosticism left exposed to the
assaults of doubt and denial, it is better to make
Browning correct his own errors, and to appeal from
the metaphysician to the poet, from the sobriety of
the logical understanding to the inspiration of poetry.
I have already indicated what seems to me to be
the defective element in the poet's philosophy of
life. His theory of knowledge is in need of re-
vision; and what he asserts of human love, should
be applied point by point to human reason. As
man is ideally united with the absolute on the side
of moral emotion (if the phrase may be pardoned),
so he is ideally united with the absolute on the
side of the intellect. As there is no difference of
nature between God's goodness and man's goodness,
so there is no difference of nature between God's
* Paracelsus.
A
CONCLUSION.
351
h and man's truth. There are not two kinds of
righteousness or mercy; there are not two kinds
of truth. Human nature is not "cut in two with a
hatchet," as the poet implies that it is. There is in
man a lower and a higher element, ever at war with
each other; still he is not a mixture, or agglom-
erate, of the finite and the infinite. A love perfect
in nature cannot be linked to an intelligence im-
perfect in nature; if it were, the love would be
either a blind impulse or an erring one. Both
morality and religion demand the presence in man
of a perfect ideal, which is at war with his imper-
fections; but an ideal is possible, only to a being
endowed with a capacity for knowing the truth.
In degrading human knowledge, the poet is disloyal
to the fundamental principle of the Christian faith
which he professed-that God can and does manifest
himself in man.
*
On the other hand, we are not to take the unity
of man with God, of man's moral ideal with the
All-perfect, as implying, on the moral side, an
absolute identification of the finite with the in-
finite; nor can we do so on the side of know-
ledge. Man's moral life and rational activity in
knowledge are the process of the highest. But man
is neither first, nor last; he is not the original
author of his love, any more than of his reason;
he is not the divine principle of the whole to which
he belongs, although he is potentially in harmony
with it. Both sides of his being are equally touched
with imperfection-his love, no less than his reason.
352
ROBERT BROWNING.
*f
Perfect love would imply perfect wisdom, as per-
fect wisdom, perfect love. But absolute terms are
not applicable to man, who is ever on the way to
goodness and truth, progressively manifesting the
power of the ideal that dwells in him, and whose
very life is conflict and acquirement.
CC
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for? All is silver-grey
Placid and perfect with my art: the worse.
""
Hardly any conception is more prominent in
Browning's writings than this, of endless progress
towards an infinite ideal; although he occasionally
manifests a desire to have done with effort.
"When a soul has seen
""**
By the means of Evil that Good is best,
And, through earth and its noise, what is heaven's serene,—
When our faith in the same has stood the test-
Why, the child grown man, you burn the rod,
The uses of labour are surely done,
There remaineth a rest for the people of God,
And I have had troubles enough, for one.” †
A
It is the sense of endless onward movement, the
outlook towards an immortal course," the life after
life in unlimited series," which is so inspiring in his
early poetry. He conceives that we are here, on
this lower earth, just to learn one form, the ele-
mentary lesson and alphabet of goodness, namely,
the uses of the flesh" in other lives, other
achievements. The separation of the soul from its
† Old Pictures in Florence.
* Andrea del Sarto.
CONCLUSION.
353
instrument has very little significance to the poet;
for it does not arrest the course of moral develop-
ment.
"No work begun shall ever pause for death."
The spirit pursues its lone way, on other adven-
tures brave and new," but ever towards a good
which is complete.
*
(C
(C
Delayed it may be for more lives yet,
Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few:
Much is to learn, much to forget
Ere the time be come for taking you." *
Still the time will come when the awakened need
shall be satisfied; for the need was created in order
to be satisfied.
Wherefore did I contrive for thee that ear
Hungry for music, and direct thine eye
To where I hold a seven-stringed instrument,
Unless I meant thee to beseech me play?"†
The movement onward is thus a movement in know-
ledge, as well as in every other form of good. The
lover of Evelyn Hope, looking back in imagination
on the course he has travelled on earth and after,
exclaims-
"I have lived (I shall say) so much since then,
Given up myself so many times,
Gained me the gains of various men,
Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes."
In these earlier poems, there is not, as in the later
* Evelyn Hope.
Two Camels.
Evelyn Hope.
•A
I2
354
ROBERT BROWNING.
**
1
ones, a maimed, or one-sided, evolution-a progress
towards perfect love on the side of the heart, and
towards an illusive ideal on the side of the intellect.
Knowledge, too, has its value, and he who lived to
settle "Hoti's business, properly based Oun," and
who gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De," was,
to the poet,
""
66
"Still loftier than the world suspects,
Living and dying.
"Here's the top-peak; the multitude below
Live, for they can, there :
This man decided not to Live but Know-
Bury this man there?
Here-here's his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form,
Lightnings are loosened,
Stars come and go.” *
No human effort goes to waste, no gift is delusive;
but every gift and every effort has its proper place
as a stage in the endless process. The soul bears
in it all its conquests.
There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as
before ;
The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound;
What was good, shall be good, with, for evil, so much good
more;
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect
round." †
The apparent failure" of knowledge, like every ·
apparent failure, is "a triumph's evidence for the
fulness of the days." The doubts that knowledge
† Abt Vogler.
* A Grammarian's Funeral.
"
CONCLUSION.
355
brings, instead of implying a defective intelligence
doomed to spend itself on phantom phenomena,
sting to progress towards the truth. He bids us
'Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge
the throe."
""
"Rather I prize the doubt
Low kinds exist without,
Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark." *
Similarly, defects in art, like defects in character,,
contain the promise of further achievement.
"Are they perfect of lineament, perfect of stature?
In both, of such lower types are we
Precisely because of our wider nature;
For time, their's-ours, for eternity.
"To-day's brief passion limits their range;
It seethes with the morrow for us and more.
They are perfect-how else? They shall never change :
We are faulty-why not? We have time in store.” †
Prior to the period when a sceptical philosophy
came down like a blight, and destroyed the bloom
of his art and faith, he thus recognized that growing
knowledge was an essential condition of growing
goodness. Pompilia shone with a glory that mere
knowledge could not give (if there were such a thing
as mere knowledge).
'Everywhere
I see in the world the intellect of man,
That sword, the energy his subtle spear,
The knowledge which defends him like a shield-
* Rabbi Ben Ezra.
† Old Pictures in Florence.
<<
356
ROBERT BROWNING.
Everywhere; but they make not up, I think,
The marvel of a soul like thine, earth's flower
She holds up to the softened gaze of God." *
But yet she recognized with patient pain the loss
she had sustained for want of knowledge.
"The saints must bear with me, impute the fault
To a soul i' the bud, so starved by ignorance,
Stinted of warmth, it will not blow this year
Nor recognize the orb which Spring-flowers know." †
Further on in the Pope's soliloquy, the poet shows
that, at that time, he fully recognized the risk of
entrusting the spiritual interests of man to the
enthusiasm of elevated feeling, or to the mere
intuitions of a noble heart. Such intuitions will
sometimes guide a man happily, as in the case of
Caponsacchi :
"Since ourselves allow
He has danced, in gaiety of heart, i' the main
The right step through the maze we bade him foot." ‡
But, on the other hand, such impulses, not in-
structed by knowledge of the truth, and made
steadfast to the laws of the higher life by a reasoned
conviction, lead man rightly only by accident. In
such a career there is no guarantee of con-
stancy; other impulses might lead to other ways
of life.
"But if his heart had prompted to break loose
And mar the measure? Why, we must submit,
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1013-1019.
† The Ring and the Book-Pompilia, 1515-1518.
The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1915-1917.
CONCLUSION.
357
And thank the chance that brought him safe so far.
Will he repeat the prodigy? Perhaps.
Can he teach others how to quit themselves,
Show why this step was right while that were wrong?
How should he? 'Ask your hearts as I asked mine,
And get discreetly through the morrice too;
If your hearts misdirect you,-quit the stage,
And make amends,-be there amends to make.'"*
If the heart proved to Caponsacchi a guide to all
that is good and glorious, "the Abate, second in
the suite," puts in the testimony of another ex-
perience: "His heart answered to another tune."
"I have my taste too, and tread no such step!
You choose the glorious life, and may for me!
like the lowest of life's appetites,-
So you judge—but the very truth of joy
To my own apprehension which decides."†
Mere emotion is thus an insecure guide to con-
duct, for its authority can be equally cited in
support of every course of life. No one can say
to his neighbour, Thou art wrong." Every im-
pulse is right to the individual who has it, and so
long as he has it. De gustibus non disputandum.
Without a universal criterion there is no praise
or blame.
(c
"Call me knave and you get yourself called fool!
I live for greed, ambition, lust, revenge;
Attain these ends by force, guile: hypocrite,
To-day, perchance to-morrow recognized
The rational man, the type of common-sense." ‡
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1916-1927.
† Ibid., 1932-1936.
‡ Ibid., 1937-1941.
Cate
358
ROBERT BROWNING.
This poem which, both in its moral wisdom and
artistic worth, marks the high tide of Browning's
poetic insight, while he is not as yet concerned with
the defence of any theory or the discussion of any
abstract question, contrasts strongly with the later
poems, where knowledge is dissembling ignorance,
faith is blind trust, and love is a mere impulse of
the heart. Having failed to meet the difficulties.
of reflection, the poet turned upon the intellect.
Knowledge becomes to him an offence, and to
save his faith he plucked out his right eye and
entered into the kingdom maimed. In Rabbi Ben
Ezra the ascent into another life is triumphant,
like that of a conqueror bearing with him the spoils
of earth; but in the later poems he escapes with a
bare belief, and the loss of all his rich possessions of
knowledge, like a shipwrecked mariner whose goods
have been thrown overboard. His philosophy was
a treacherous ally to his faith.
But there is another consideration which shows
that the poet, as artist, recognized the need of
giving to reason a larger function than seems to be
possible according to the theory in his later works.
In the early poems there is no hint of the doctrine
that demonstrative knowledge of the good, and of
the necessity of its law, would destroy freedom.
On the contrary, there are suggestions which point
to the opposite doctrine, according to which know-
ledge is the condition of freedom.
While in his later poems the poet speaks of love
as an impulse-either blind or bound to erring
CONCLUSION.
359
knowledge-and of the heart as made to love, in
his earlier ones he seems to treat man as free to
work out his own purposes, and act out his own
ideals. Browning here finds himself able to main-
tain the dependence of man upon God without
destroying morality. He regards man's impulses
not as blind instincts, but as falling within his
rational nature, and constituting the forms of its
activity. He recognizes the distinction between a
mere impulse, in the sense of a tendency to act,
which is directed by a foreign power, and an impulse
informed, that is, directed by reason. According to
this view, it is reason which at once gives man
the independence of foreign authority, which is
implied in morality, and constitutes that affinity
between man and God, which is implied by religion.
No doubt, the impulse to know, like the impulse to
love, was put into man: his whole nature is a gift,
and he is therefore, in this sense, completely de-
pendent upon God-" God's all, man's nought."
But, on the other hand, it is a rational nature
which has been put into him, and not an irrational
impulse. Or, rather, the impulse that constitutes
his life as man, is the self-evolving activity of
S
reason.
>> *
"Who speaks of man, then, must not sever
Man's very elements from man.
However the rational nature of man has come to
be, whether by emanation or creation, it neces-
sarily brings freedom with it, and all its risks and
* Christmas-Eve.
360
ROBERT BROWNING.
possibilities. It is of the very essence of reason
that it should find its law within itself.
God's all, man's nought :
But also, God, whose pleasure brought
Man into being, stands away
<<
(6
As it were a hand-breadth off, to give
Room for the newly-made to live,
And look at Him from a place apart,
And use his gifts of brain and heart,
Given, indeed, but to keep for ever." *
Thus, while insisting on the absolute priority of
God, and the original receptivity of man; while
recognizing that love, reason, and every inner power
and outer opportunity are lent to man, Browning
does not forget what these powers are. Man can
only act as man; he must obey his nature, as the
stock or stone or plant obeys its nature. But to
act as man is to act freely, and man's nature is not
that of a stock or stone. He is rational, and cannot
but be rational. Hence he can neither be ruled, as
dead matter is ruled, by natural law; nor live, like
a bird, the life of innocent impulse or instinct. He
is placed, from the very first, on "the table land
whence life upsprings aspiring to be immortality."
He is a spirit,-responsible because he is free, and
free because he is rational.
Man, therefore, stands on his own stock
Of love and power as a pin-point rock,
And, looks to God who ordained divorce
Of the rock from His boundless continent."
Christmas-Eve.
+ Ibid.
't
·
CONCLUSION.
361
The divorce is real, although ordained, but it is
possible only in so far as man, by means of reason,
constitutes his own ends of action. Impulse can-
not bring it about. It is reason that enables
man to free himself from the despotic authority of
outer law, to relate himself to an inner law, and
by reconciling inner and outer to attain to good-
ness. Thus reason is the source of all morality.
And it also is the principle of religion, for it
implies the highest and fullest manifestation of the
absolute.
*:
Although the first aspect of self-consciousness is
its independence, which is, in turn, the first con-
dition of morality, still this is only the first aspect.
The rational being plants himself on his own
individuality, stands aloof and alone in the rights
of his freedom, in order that he may set out from
thence to take possession, by means of knowledge
and action, of the world in which he is placed.
Reason is potentially absolute, capable of finding
itself everywhere. So that in it man is honour-
clothed and glory-crowned."
(C
"This is the honour,-that no thing I know,
Feel or conceive, but I can make my own
Somehow, by use of hand, or head, or heart." *
Man, by his knowledge, overcomes the resistance
and hostility of the world without him, or rather,
discovers that there is not hostility, but affinity
between it and himself.
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
362
ROBERT BROWNING.
"This is the glory,—that in all conceived,
Or felt or known, I recognize a mind
Not mine but like mine,—for the double joy,
Making all things for me and me for Him." *
That which is finite is hemmed in by other things,
as well as determined by them; but the infinite is
all-inclusive. There exists for it no other thing
to limit or determine it. There is nothing finally
alien or foreign to reason. Freedom and infini-
tude, self-determination and absoluteness, imply
each other. In so far as man is free, he is lifted
above the finite. It was God's plan to make man
on His own image :—
"C
"To create man and then leave him
Able, His own word saith, to grieve Him,
But able to glorify Him too,
As a mere machine could never do,
That prayed or praised, all unaware
Of its fitness for aught but praise or prayer,
Made perfect as a thing of course." "†
Man must find his law within himself, be the source
of his own activity, not passive or receptive, but
outgoing and effective.
Rejoice we are allied
To That which doth provide
And not partake, effect and not receive !
A spark disturbs our clod;
Nearer we hold of God
Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe." †
* Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau.
† Christmas-Eve.
+ Rabbi Ben Ezra.
CONCLUSION.
363
This near affinity between the divine and human
is just what Browning seems to repudiate in his
later poems, when he speaks as if the absolute, in
order to maintain its own supremacy over man, had
to stint its gifts and endow him only with a de-
fective reason. In the earlier period of the poet
there is far less timidity. He then saw that the
greater the gift, the greater the Giver; that only
spirit can reveal spirit; that "God is glorified in
man," and that love is at its fullest only when it
gives itself.
In insisting on such identity of the human spirit
with the divine, our poet does not at any time run
the risk of forgetting that the identity is not abso-
lute. Absolute identity would be pantheism, which
leaves God lonely and loveless, and extinguishes
man, as well as his morality.
CC
Man is not God, but hath God's end to serve,
A Master to obey, a course to take,
Somewhat to cast off, somewhat to become." *
Man, at best, only moves towards his ideal: God is
conceived as the ever-existing ideal. God, in short,
is the term which signifies for us the Being who is
eternally all in all, and who, therefore, is hidden
from us who are only moving towards perfection,
in the excess of the brightness of His own glory.
Nevertheless, as Browning recognizes, the grandeur
of God's perfection is just His outflowing love. And
that love is never complete in its manifestation, till
* A Death in the Desert.
364
ROBERT BROWNING.
it has given itself. Man's life, as spirit, is thus
one in nature with that of the absolute. But the
unity is not complete, because man is only poten-
tially perfect. He is the process of the ideal; his
life is the divine activity within him. Still, it is
also man's activity. For the process, being the
process of spirit, is a free process-one in which
man himself energizes; so that, in doing God's
will, he is doing his own highest will, and, in obey-
ing the law of his own deepest nature, he is obey-
ing God. The unity of divine and human within
the spiritual life of man is a real unity, just because
man is free; the identity manifests itself through
the difference, and the difference is possible through
the unity.
Thus, in the light of an ideal which is moral,
and therefore perfect-an ideal gradually realizing
itself in a process which is endless-the poet is
able to maintain at once the community between
man and God, which is necessary to religion, and
their independence, which is necessary to morality.
The conception of God as giving, which is the
main doctrine of Christianity, and of man as akin
with God, is applied by him to the whole spiritual
nature of man, and not merely to his emotion.
The process of evolution is thus a process towards
truth, as well as goodness; in fact, goodness and
truth are known as inseparable. Knowledge, too,
is a Divine endowment. "What gift of man is
not from God descended?" What gift of God can
be deceptive?
I
CONCLUSION.
365
"Take all in a word: the truth in God's breast
Lies trace for trace upon ours impressed :
Though He is so bright and we so dim,
We are made in His image to witness Him." *
The Pope recognizes clearly the inadequacy of
human knowledge; but he also recognizes that it
has a Divine source.
"Yet my poor spark had for its source, the sun ;
Thither I sent the great looks which compel
Light from its fount: all that I do and am
Comes from the truth, or seen or else surmised,
Remembered or divined, as mere man may." †
The last words indicate a suspicion of a certain
defect in knowledge, which is not recognized in
human love; nevertheless, in these earlier poems,
the poet does not analyze human nature into a
finite and infinite, or seek to dispose of his diffi-
culties by the deceptive solvent of a dualistic
agnosticism. He treats spirit as a unity, and
refuses to set love and reason against each other.
Man's life, for the poet, and not merely man's love,
begins with God, and returns back to God in the
rapt recognition of God's perfect being by reason,
and in the identification of man's purposes with His
by means of will and love.
"What is left for us, save, in growth
Of soul, to rise up, far past both,
From the gift looking to the giver,
And from the cistern to the river,
And from the finite to infinity
And from man's dust to God's divinity?" ‡
* Christmas-Eve.
†The Ring and the Book The Pope, 1285-1289.
Christmas-Eve.
366
ROBERT BROWNING.
•
It is this movement of the absolute in man, this
aspiration towards the full knowledge and perfect
goodness which can never be completely attained,
that constitutes man.
"Man, therefore, thus conditioned, must expect
He could not, what he knows now, know at first :
What he considers that he knows to-day,
Come but to-morrow, he will find mis-known;
Getting increase of knowledge, since he learns
Because he lives, which is to be a man,
Set to instruct himself by his past self:
First, like the brute, obliged by facts to learn,
Next, as man may, obliged by his own mind,
Bent, habit, nature, knowledge turned to law.
God's gift was that man shall conceive of truth
And yearn to gain it, catching at mistake,
As midway help till he reach fact indeed ? "*
"Progress," the poet says, is "man's distinctive
mark alone.' The endlessness of the progress, the
fact that every truth known to-day seems mis-
known to-morrow, that every ideal once achieved
only points to another and becomes itself a stepping
stone, does not, as in his later days, bring despair
to him. For the consciousness of failure is possible
in knowledge, as in morality, only because there
has come a fuller light. Browning does not, as
yet, dwell exclusively on the negative element in
progress, or forget that it is possible only through
a deeper positive. He does not think that, because
we turn our backs on what we have gained, we are
therefore not going forward; nay, he asserts the
* A Death in the Desert.
"
CONCLUSION.
367
contrary. Failure, even the failure of knowledge, is
triumph's evidence in these earlier days; and com-
plete failure, the unchecked rule of evil in any form,
is therefore impossible. We deny
'Recognized truths, obedient to some truth
Unrecognized yet, but perceptible,-
Correct the portrait by the living face,
Man's God, by God's God in the mind of man.
CC
Q
""*
Thus the poet ever returns to the conception of
God in the mind of man. God is the beginning
and the end; and man is the self-conscious worker
of God's will, the free process whereby the last
which is first, returns to itself. The process, the
growth, is man's life and being; and it falls within
the ideal, which is eternal and all in all. The
spiritual life of man, which is both intellectual and
moral, is a dying into the eternal, not to cease to
be in it, but to live in it more fully; for spirits
necessarily commune. He dies to the temporal
interests and narrow ends of the exclusive self, and
lives an ever-expanding life in the life of others,
manifesting more and more that spiritual principle
which is the life of God, who lives and loves in
all things. "God is a being in whom we exist;
with whom we are in principle one; with whom
the human spirit is identical, in the sense that
He is all which the human spirit is capable of
becoming." †
From this point of view, and in so far as Browning
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1871-1874.
† Green's Prolegomena to Ethics, p. 198.
368
ROBERT BROWNING.
is loyal to the conception of the community of the
divine and human, he is able to maintain his faith.
in God, not in spite of knowledge, but through
the very movement of knowledge within him.
He is not obliged, as in his later works, to look
for proofs, either in nature, or elsewhere; nor to
argue from the emotion of love in man, to a cause
of that emotion. He needs no syllogistic process
to arrive at God; for the very activity of his own
spirit as intelligence, as the reason which thinks and
acts, is the activity of God within him. Scepticism
is impossible, for the very act of doubting is the
activity of reason, and a profession of the know-
ledge of the truth.
"
66 'I
Put no such dreadful question to myself,
Within whose circle of experience burns
The central truth, Power, Wisdom, Goodness,-God:
I must outlive a thing ere know it dead :
When I outlive the faith there is a sun,
When I lie, ashes to the very soul,-
Someone, not I, must wail above the heap,
'He died in dark whence never morn arose.
•
B
And this view of God as immanent in man's ex-
perience also forecloses all possibility of failure.
Beneath the failure, the possibility of which is in-
volved in a moral life, lies the divine element,
working through contradiction to its own fulfilment.
Failure is necessary for man, because he grows:
but, for the same reason, the failure is not final.
Thus, the poet, instead of denying the evidence of
his intellect as to the existence of evil, or casting
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1631-1639.
CONCLUSION.
369
doubt on the distinction between right and wrong,
or reducing the chequered course of human history
into a phantasmagoria of mere mental appear-
ances, can regard the conflict between good and
evil as real and earnest. He can look evil in the
face, recognize its stubborn resistance to the good,
and still regard the victory of the latter as sure
and complete. He has not to reduce it into a
phantom, or mere appearance, in order to give it
a place within the divine order. He sees the night,
but he also sees the day succeed it. Man falls
into sin, but he cannot rest in it. It is contra-
dictory to his nature, he cannot content himself
with it, and he is driven through it. Mephis-
topheles promised more than he could perform,
when he undertook to make Faust declare him-
self satisfied. There is not within the kingdom of
evil what will satisfy the spirit of man, whose last
law is goodness, whose nature, however obscured,
is God's gift of Himself.
"While I see day succeed the deepest night—
How can I speak but as I know ?-my speech
Must be, throughout the darkness. It will end:
,
'The light that did burn, will burn! Clouds obscure—
But for which obscuration all were bright ?
Too hastily concluded! Sun-suffused,
A cloud may soothe the eye made blind by blaze,—
Better the very clarity of heaven:
The soft streaks are the beautiful and dear.
What but the weakness in a faith supplies
The incentive to humanity, no strength
Absolute, irresistible, comports?
How can man love but what he yearns to help?
And that which men think weakness within strength,
S
370
ROBERT BROWNING.
But angels know for strength and stronger yet-
What were it else but the first things made new,
But repetition of the miracle,
The divine instance of self-sacrifice
That never ends and aye begins for man?
So, never I miss footing in the maze,
No, I have light nor fear the dark at all.” *
* The Ring and the Book-The Pope, 1640-1660.
THE END.
APR 2 6 1921
ESTABLISHED 1798

$14.
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AND SONS
PRINTERS AND
PUBLISHERS
THE

NELSON LIBRARY
OF NOTABLE BOOKS.
Uniform with this Volume and same Price.
FORTHCOMING VOLUMES.
A LIFE OF COUNT TOLSTOY.
Charles Sarolea, Ph.D.
This new Life of Tolstoy, by the distinguished Lecturer
on French Literature in Edinburgh University, appears
appositely at the same time as Tolstoy's posthumous
stories (with which, incidentally, the author deals). Dr.
Sarolea is one of the most learned of European scholars,
and a master of many literatures. The book will be
found a fascinating and judicious guide to the work and
teaching of one who was probably the greatest writer of
our day.
(January.)
FROM PARIS TO NEW YORK BY LAND.
H. De Windt.
In this book Mr. De Windt recounts an adventurous
journey through Europe, across Siberia, and then viâ
Alaska to New York. He covered a good deal of un-
explored country, and travelled at a pace which few
explorers have ever approached. It is a fascinating
narrative of adventure in little known countries.
(February.)
III
ALREADY ISSUED.
THE GREAT ANDES OF THE EQUATOR.
Edward Whymper.
This is Mr. Whymper's second great travel book, the
continuation to "Scrambles Amongst the Alps." He
was the pioneer of the great volcanoes of Ecuador, and
made the first ascents of Chimborazo and Cotopaxi.
The book is fully illustrated.
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY VIGNETTES.
Austin Dobson.
Mr. Austin Dobson in his poetry has long made the
eighteenth century his special province. No English
writer has more completely recaptured its delicate evasive
grace. In his "Eighteenth Century Vignettes" he gives
us prose studies of eighteenth century characters and
scenes, and his prose is no less engaging than his poetry.
THE EARLY LIFE OF CHARLES JAMES FOX.
Sir George O. Trevelyan.
Sir George O. Trevelyan in this work, and in the
subsequent volumes of his "American Revolution,”
has written the political history of England around
the life of his hero. It is not only a brilliant study of
character and politics, but a picture of the inner life
of the later eighteenth century. Like his uncle, Lord
Macaulay, Sir George Trevelyan is so fully the master
of his subject that he can give it the picturesqueness
and vivacity of a modern chronicle seen by an eye-
witness. In his hands scientific history is invested.
with all the charm of romance.
1
LONDON POLICE COURTS. Thomas Holmes.
Mr. Thomas Holmes is well known as one of the chief
authorities on prison life. In the present volume he gives
his experiences as a police court missionary.
TV
A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. Dean Hole.
Dean Hole was chiefly famous as an expert rose grower,
but his garden interests were not confined to one de-
partment, and in the present volume he gossips wisely
and entertainingly about all the thousand and one
things which come within the limits of a garden.
SIR FRANK LOCKWOOD.
Augustine Birrell, K.C., M.P.
Sir Frank Lockwood, who was Solicitor-General in Mr.
Gladstone's last administration, was one of the best-
loved men of his time. The bluff Yorkshireman carried
a breath of fresh air into politics and law and wherever
he moved. Like Lord Bowen, he was one of that rare
class a true legal humorist, and his sayings will long
be preserved as a tradition of the Bar. The book is writ-
ten by Mr. Augustine Birrell, and is illustrated by several
delightful cartoons and caricatures from Sir Frank's
pen.
OF SIR HENRY
REMINISCENCES
THE
!
HAWKINS (Lord Brampton).
The late Lord Brampton was the most original figure on
the Bench during the last twenty years, and while at
the Bar he was employed in nearly every notable case,
from the Tichborne Case downwards. In popular
estimation "Henry Hawkins" enjoyed a fame which
no lawyer has probably ever equalled. His "Reminis-
cences," edited by a distinguished brother lawyer, is a
fascinating record of a great legal career, and a mine of
good stories and good sayings.
MEXICO AS I SAW IT.
Mrs. Alec Tweedie.
The future of Mexico is one of the chief modern
problems of statecraft. Mrs. Tweedie's vigorous nar-
rative, which she has revised and brought up to date,
is the best existing picture of modern Mexico and its
varied interests.
V
A MODERN UTOPIA.
H. G. Wells.
This is Mr. Wells's dream of an ideal future when
society shall have been reconstructed on principles of
justice and good sense. The book is a brilliant fantasy,
full of stimulating and original thought.
THE RING AND THE BOOK. Robert Browning.
The publishers are glad to be able to add to their
Library the greatest of modern epics. "The Ring and
the Book" is not only Browning's greatest poem, but it
is probably the finest poetical achievement of the nine-
teenth century. It shows how every actor in a human
drama has his own case, and that even with the vilest
there is a point of view from which their actions are
intelligible.
POT-POURRI FROM A SURREY GARDEN.
Mrs. Earle.
Mrs. Earle's "Pot-pourri from a Surrey Garden" has
become the chief classic in modern garden literature.
It deals with many things besides gardening, and most
branches of the conduct and art of life are touched
upon with shrewd and kindly wisdom.
This new
edition, which has been corrected by the author, will, it
is hoped, bring the book into the hands of thousands
who need precisely such a manual of advice and enter-
tainment.
THE GOLDEN AGE.
Kenneth Grahame.
Mr. Kenneth Grahame has produced a classic of child-
life which has had no rivals since "Alice in Wonder-
land.” The “Golden Age" is a book both for children
and grown-ups, since it is the work of a cultivated and
original mind, reflecting upon the past, and seeing deep
into the tangled philosophies of childhood.
VI
MY CONFIDENCES.
Frederick Locker-Lampson.
The late Mr. Locker-Lampson, the author of "London
Lyrics," was one of the best modern writers of light
verse and one of the foremost connoisseurs of his day.
In this book he tells the story of his life. It is full
of the best kind of talk and delightful confessions as
to his preferences in art, literature, and human nature.
THE GREAT BOER WAR. A. Conan Doyle
This is by far the most popular and picturesque account
of the South African War, and its fairness and accuracy
have never been questioned.
It is the only single
volume history of the war.
THE LIFE OF GLADSTONE.
H. W. Paul.
Mr. Herbert Paul's "Life of Gladstone" appeared before
Mr. Morley's larger "Life," and is still by far the best
short biography of this statesman. The book is not only
good history, but from its charm of style is an admirable
piece of literary portraiture.
LIFE OF DEAN STANLEY.
R. E. Prothero.
As Dean of Westminster Dean Stanley exercised an
influence which is without parallel in modern ecclesi-
astical history. His friendship with Queen Victoria and
with all the great men of the Victorian era makes his life
a wonderful epitome of the history of his times.
SELECTED ESSAYS.
Augustine Birrell.
The little books in which Mr. Birrell has published
his "Essays" have been cherished by all lovers of good
literature. The present volume consists of a selection
from half a dozen of his books. The selection has
been approved by Mr. Birrell himself, and may be
taken as an anthology of his best work.
VII
SERMONS BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON.
Selected and Edited by Sir W. Robertson Nicoll, LL.D.
All who are interested in the fine art of oratory, all
lovers of a pure English style, as well as the myriads
who found inspiration in Mr. Spurgeon's teaching,
should welcome this selection from his best work.
LETTERS AND RECOLLECTIONS OF SIR
WALTER SCOTT. Mrs. Hughes of Uffington.
Edited by Horace G. Hutchinson.
This delightful book will be welcomed in its cheap
edition by all lovers of Sir Walter. No right-minded
reader can get too much of Scott's life, and those who
have exhausted Lockhart and the "Journal" will find
here further entertainment.
CULTURE AND ANARCHY.
Matthew Arnold.
Matthew Arnold's most notable prose work, in which
he expounds his philosophy of conduct and educa-
tion. It contains his famous division of the English
people into "Barbarians," "Philistines," and "The
Populace," and that gospel of self-development and
culture which is chiefly associated with his name.
LORD RUSSELL OF KILLOWEN. R. B. O'Brien.
Sir Charles Russell was the greatest of modern advocates
after Sir Henry Hawkins, and he was certainly the
most impressive figure on the modern Bench. He
played a great part also in political life, as his work in
connection with the Parnell Commission bore witness.
The book gives us a wonderful picture of a massive
personality, fearless, just, subtle, and passionate.
VIII
IN INDIA.
G. W. Steevens.
This is probably, after "With Kitchener to Khartum,"
the most brilliant of the late Mr. Steevens's books. He
went to India when Lord Curzon went out, and spent
some months traversing the peninsula and turning his
searchlight on the conditions of native and Europear.
life. Those familiar with the country have declared
that no other book is so accurate, and one critic has
said that the reader can almost smell the East in Mr.
Steevens's pages.
THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION.
W. Bagehot.
It seems desirable, now that constitutional questions
are so much in the air, to republish the most famous of
British constitutional manuals. Since Bagehot wrote in
1872 there have been some changes in our constitu-
tional position, but nothing has materially affected the
argument of his book. Bagehot was an observer of
extraordinary acuteness, and as a writer he had a
crystal limpidity of style which makes his treatment of
arid subjects not only perfectly clear but highly
interesting.
THE ALPS FROM END TO END.
Sir William Martin Conway.
This story of the complete traverse of the Alps from
the Maritime Alps to the Tyrol is a delightful holiday
book, and the best introduction that could be found to
the scenery of the "Playground of Europe." Sir Martin
Conway is not only a famous traveller and mountaineer,
but an admirable writer, and no one can reproduce
more vividly the charms of a landscape and the atmos-
phere of the different mountain regions.
IX
WHERE BLACK RULES WHITE.
H. Hesketh Prichard.
In this book Mr. Hesketh Prichard tells of a visit to
that little-known country, the Republic of Hayti. He
describes the extraordinary methods of the government
and the curious social conditions in a land "where black
rules white." It is a fascinating and original travel book,
and the only authoritative work on the subject yet
published.
THE LIFE OF PARNELL.
R. Barry O'Brien.
This is a reprint, for which Mr. John Redmond has
written a preface, of the standard "Life" of the great
Irish leader. Parnell's career was the most amazing
romance of modern politics, and Mr. Barry O'Brien
well brings out its dramatic aspects. It is essentially a
book for the times, now that the legacy of policy which
Parnell left is being re-examined by all parties.
LIFE OF CANON AINGER.
Edith Sichel.
Canon Ainger as Master of the Temple was for long
one of the best known English preachers, and as the
editor and biographer of Charles Lamb held a high
position in modern letters. His "Life," by Miss Sichel,
is a sympathetic study of a rare and fascinating person-
ality-one who, while a lover of old ways, was in close
touch with all that is best in the modern world.
}
THE ROMANCE OF A PRO-CONSUL (SIR
GEORGE GREY).
James Milne.
Sir George Grey, creator in large part of both modern
New Zealand and modern South Africa, was one of the
first prophets of a united empire. The story of his
brilliant career and his far-reaching imperial dream is
well told in Mr. Milne's biography.
X
LIFE OF JOHN NICHOLSON.
Captain Trotter.
John Nicholson was the man of destiny of our Indian
Empire, and we have to go back to the Elizabethans to
parallel so romantic a figure. In view of the present
unrest in India, and the reviving interest in the story
of the Mutiny, this new edition will be welcomed by
many readers.
COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRY NEWBOLT.
This volume is the reprint of Mr. Newbolt's earlier
works—“The Island Race" (which includes "Admirals
All") and "The Sailing of the Long Ships." Equally
with Mr. Kipling, Mr. Newbolt is the poet of English
endeavour, and many of his verses, such as "Drake's
Drum," have long been classics. All lovers of poetry
will welcome a collection of some of the most inspiring
songs in the language.
THE LIFE OF GENERAL GORDON.
Demetrius C. Boulger.
Mr. Boulger was an intimate friend of General Gordon's,
especially during his latter years, and his "Life" is
the only full "Life of Gordon" as yet published. It
is frankly partisan, but it is always vigorous and
dramatic; and readers will get from it a fuller idea of
the Bayard of modern Imperial history.
THE MAKING OF A FRONTIER.
Col. Durand
The frontier in question is the wild piece of country to
the north and west of Kashmir, where Colonel Duranc
was stationed from 1889 to 1894. All who ar
interested in the strange No-man's Land, which form
the barrier between Indian and Russian territory, wil
find this book full of information and charm.
XI
MEMORIES GRAVE AND GAY. Dr. John Kerr.
This book was first published in 1 you, wird was weleens
as the best wolume of Scotch reminiscences and good
stories since Dean Ramsay's famous work
THE STRENUOUS LIFE. Theodore Roosevelt.
This is the confession of faith of come wino must be
regarded as the most powerful (gure in the politics of
the world to-day.
HISTORICAL MYSTERIES.
Andrew Lang
Mr. Andre Lang is one of the most brilliant essayists
e day, and he is also one of the mo
and crit

am14:
Bast
TR'
B.
learned pastors. The present volume is a selection
鲁
​#
•13 ho
14
of chips from is historical dealing with some
of the blind alleys of history which have never becn
fully penetrates
MENGAJAR
THE LIFE OF CORDEN.
Viscount Morley.
Speaking at Rochdale in 1881, John Bright said about
this book: "I hope the time will come before very
long when it will
will sinkt the publishers to give it in one
volume ata moderate prifts, for I can conceive of
hardly anything better than that this volume should
enter into scores of themands of homes to instruct
scores of thousands of families in this sumury. The
publissers now offer the first cheap library edition of
this classic work. It is needioss to praise the brilliance
of Loid Morley's treatment, or the inherent interest of
the subject
་་པ་་
LIFE OF FRANK BUCKLAND.
G. C. Bompas.
Frank Backlund was the most whimsical and original
of modern rajandists, and this cheap and popular edition
of the story of his life will buy welcomed by many readers.
XN
REMINISCENCES OF LADY DOROTHY
SC
NEVILL
Lady Dorothy Nevill, who was born in 1816, has passed
a long life in the heart of the best society. She has
known every statesman, poef, and artist of note from
Lord Palmerston downwards. Her Reminiscences'
are a kind of “history of our own Limes" written with a
skilful hand by a very shrewd and wing observer. As
one of Disraeli's most intimate friends, she has much to
say about that most mysterious of British statesinen.
THE AMATEUR POACHER. Richard Tefferies.
"The Amateur Poacher" as perhaps the most widely
popular of Richard Jellier's works It contains some
of his closest observation and much of his mocet beautiful
descriptive wo k.
A SOCIAL DEPARTURE.
་་
Sara J. Duncan.
This is a tale of the travels of two ladies rind the
world. Unchaperoned and untarmelled the set out
to see peoples and cities, and Httle escapes their notice
from Canada. to Japan. Readers of Tra: Simple
Adventures vi a Merasalıb” know how light and sure
is the author's touch. The present volume will be
foured not less witty and light-hearted and picuresque.
THE UNVEILING OF LHASA. Edmund Candler.
Mr. Candler was the Daily Mal's correspondent with
Sir Francis Younghusband's Tibetan expedition. He
ma severely wounded in the first basic, losing an arm,
but recovered, and entered has with the expedition.
Els book is a brilliant hevount of the work of the army
end the romance of the "Hidden Land.”
HALA
NELSON LIBRARY OF NOTABLE BOOKS.
CONDENSED LIST.
Life of Alexander Hamilton.
From the Cape to Cairo.
Making of Modern Egypt.
Lord Russell of Killowen.
Birrell's Selected Essays.
Idylls of the Sea.
Reminiscences of Sir Henry
The Golden Age. [Hawkins.
The Forest. I Memories.
Life of W. E. Gladstone.
Wild Life in a Southern County.
The Psalms in Human Life.
Life of John Nicholson.
The Great Boer War.
Collections and Recollections.
The Ring and the Book.
A Book about the Garden.
Culture and Anarchy.
Life of Frank Buckland.
A Modern Utopia.
With Kitchener to Khartum.
Unveiling of Lhasa.
Life of Lord Dufferin.
Life of Dean Stanley.
Astronomy for Amateurs.
Life of Canon Ainger.
The Path to Rome.
A Social Departure.
Literature and Dogma.
Sir Frank Lockwood.
Dream Days.
Round the World
Wheel.
on
Letters and Recollections of
Sir Walter Scott.
Sermons by the Rev. C. H.
My Confidences. [Spurgeon.
The Making of a Frontier.
Life of General Gordon.
Newbolt's Collected Poems.
Pot-Pourri from a Surrey
Garden.
The Alps from End to End.
Life of Parnell | Life of Cobden
Up from Slavery. | In India.
Recollections of the Right
Hon. Sir Algernon West.
Great Englishmen of the Six.
teenth Century.
Where Black Rules White.
The Strenuous Life.
Memories Grave and Gay.
Life of Danton.
A Pocketful of Sixpences.
The Romance of a Pro-consul.
A Book about Roses.
Random Reminiscences.
The London Police Courts.
The Amateur Poacher.
Atthe Works | The Bancrofts.
Mexico as I Saw It.
Eighteenth Century Vignettes.
Great Andes of the Equator.
The Early Life of C. J. Fox.
aThrough the Heart of Pata-
gonia.
Others in Preparation.
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS.
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