I

have grown wise
At home in Eng-

and gaily clad, while you are miserable and poor? But
you must confess that there is too little happiness to
stretch out over the whole human family. Let the robe
of happiness be cut up, and be content that the pieces
be distributed among a score or so, because, if these be
acknowledged happy, it shows there is such a thing as
happiness in the world, and gives you something to aim
at for the rest. Seeing these peasant girls, I can imagine
all creatures gay and joyous like themselves. This is
what I ask now for the race. 'Let us,' I say, 'have
every one strong and healthy.'
enough to limit my prayer to that.
land I meant to claim that all were intended to excel in
mind as in body-each at once chief and poet; but
Venice teaches me a lesson on the subject. It is a type
of life. As it lies a stripe between blue expanses of
water, so the Something called Life lies between nothing
and nothing; and you might as well try to save my
treading any slippery stones on the Square, or to make
me sail on only the clean canals, as keep me from coming
across evil as well as good in life. Only do, I say to
myself, work out some idea into a complete poem! For
the credit of our race, show that most of us are happy,
whatever we may assert to be the source of their happi-
ness, and give assurance that the wretched creatures we
send to crouch in hidden corners have somehow chanced
to miss the joy for which they were naturally formed.

738-771.

ghost,

This was the idea I had just adopted in the course of my musing, and here your coming baulks it already! But the Scarcely have I begun to arrange happiness of some Suffering kind or other for the majority of mankind when you, Humanity, irresistibly pale and suffering One, find me; and in your presence claims him such a theory of life immediately stands exposed. And as her bard. to think that, while I am so sure about your being my queen, you should distrust me! Yet you have reason; for many who have meant to devote themselves to your service have grown weary of your thin trembling lips and your lashless tear-shot eyes. Stop! I mean you

771-783. Whereat, as one whose

duty is made plain, he rejoices.

no insult.

Remember I am not your slave, that I should be afraid of you; your friend I am, and must speak out. Besides, to me you are really more interesting and attractive-in fact, I had always a secret sympathy with the broken and unfortunate than Happy Humanity, who-as I thought when, years ago, far across the sea in England, there came a whisper bidding me take the whole human race as the mistress to whom I should devote myself heart and soul in song -would be my goddess in the temple of earth. You may guess now that I had a premonition that you would claim me. Rough fellow that I am, with loose garments and a few odd ornaments, I saunter through Venice careless and alone, giving out chance bits of song; but, passing all the grand folk, you come to me for help. And then what a luxury I enjoy when I hesitate, and pretend that to give you aught is an unexampled grace; whereas I simply dare not withhold my gifts, which I feel are destined for your service!

No

To tell the truth, I am not much grieved that Humanity, who appeared at first to me as bright and happy, and about to step upon a pedestal, seems now, in this silent city, to fall toward me in very weakness. wreath is hers: she only weeps herself to rest upon my breast. Strange it is, Humanity, that experience should have so changed my earlier youth's idea of what thou art! Warped souls and bodies-such, in truth, are men. It was otherwise, and more pleasantly, that I had thought to use my poetic powers; but this way my duty lies, and at all costs it must be done. Other things I may desire for my art, but I cut them off.' Yes, Sordello, God selects our poetic yoke, as you may find before your day is done!

698. 'e'en her disguised.' The girl who is the emblem Humanity as Great and Happy (1. 719). In England Browning expected she would be queen to him and inspire his poetry (1. 750), and now she mingles with the light-hearted Italians who are the emblems of Life as Happy on the whole (1. 721).

738. Fastuous.' Proud. (Lat. fastuosus, fastosus - from

fastus, 'pride.')

746. 'shent.' Harshly rebuked.

"How in my words soever she be shent."

-Hamlet, Act III. sc. ii.

"Right sore I fear lest with unworthy blames
This odious argument my rymes should shend.”

-The Faerie Queene, Canto IX.

750. 'her I looked should foot.' Humanity as Great and Happy. Browning does not contrast the joyous portion of humanity with the miserable portion. It was an early purpose to devote his poetry to the service of man ('thy race'): he has to decide whether he will regard him as a being essentially grand and gladsome, or as happy on the whole, or as one in whose soul great suffering of some kind dwells. In the paraphrase the two aspects are for convenience entitled Happy Humanity and Suffering Humanity, between the two being Humanity Happy on the whole. The full stop at the end of the line is impossible

punctuation.

755. had I.' As you came along?

759. 'slouch bonnet.' Browning is describing himself as the Untidy Poet, his style being the garments.

766. Corpus Domini.' Or Corpus Christi, the greatest festival of the R.C. Church, held in honour of the consecrated host.

782. 'Of right-hand, foot and eye.' Matt. v. 29-31. To be the poet of Suffering Humanity, as duty bids him, Browning must sacrifice a good deal that one expects to find in poetry, and, consequently, a measure of popularity.

'selects our yoke.' Yet we are told to beware of imagining that Browning had a 'message.' His readers know how he remained true to his purpose of being the poet of 'warped souls and bodies.'

Ll. 784-832.

Such poetic work for the race is not vain. The worst of men is not beyond hope, since, amid all his evil, he retains at least the idea of truth; and the only way in which the poet may help him is, while honestly recognising the hardness of life, to show him wherein the true good of his nature lies, and the way to reach it.

Sleep, then, upon my shoulder, Suffering Humanity,

784-804.

No man is beyond hope of restoration.

804-825. Your drawing-roomtable poet only makes things worse.

826-832.

The helpful poet looks

life in the face.

and never mind those who talk of evil men beyond hope. Say to such: "Doesn't each manage to secure a kind of life in spite of his evil? Amid all his lies, does he not retain his own idea of what is the one true thing for him? All his dishonest conduct is only the way, which you don't understand, by which he seeks what he takes to be his good. When he did wrong, some good he fancied ought to be his afforded a secret excuse for doing it he was surely entitled to secure by hook or by crook one pleasure out of all that the world denied him." Then you might say that from this it would appear that a man must think all other men better than himself, since he takes for granted that, though he is injuring them in seeking his object, they will not injure him; but don't say that. Explain his conduct thus: "Each thinks all others less sharp than he is, he alone, as he fancies, being able to see how an evil course will lead to good to understand the complicated scheme by which he does evil that good may come."

But it's no great help, one may object, merely to know the disease of which you are dying and nothing else. Well, perhaps we can do a little more; but, in any case, let us not pretend that life, after all, is not so bad. The worst thing we can do is to increase our ignorance tenfold by hinting again and again that it would be easy to put the world right-that it would be a specially easy task if we only took the trouble to discover the source of evil. "In the meantime," says the poet that gives such brilliant advice, "just listen to my pretty little song about the dewdrop in the mugwort." What, you blockhead! Here we are in life's parching wilderness, in which we seem shut up without hope of escape; and now, when we are crying out for the very necessities of the soul, you come with your dainty little pieces on outof-the-way subjects, and wonder why we are making such a to-do! You should be stoned! And meanwhile here is a bard who is in terrible earnest and does some good in his own clumsy way-who strikes the rock and

brings a real supply of water-though for his pains he
forgo the promised land of popularity, have his carcass
claimed by Satan, and be jeered at as a metaphysical
poet. It is hard work: "Strife!" But genuine water
begins to ooze forth; then, when men are really being
helped, yourself among the number, tell
explained what it was best to do.

me who

815. 'the mugwort.' The Artemisia vulgaris. It was called 'mugwort' because it was used to give a bitter flavour to drink. It has a red rough stem, and grows to a height of from two to four feet. (See Step's Wayside and Woodland Blossoms.)

817. 'Zin.' Numbers, ch. xx.

825. 'With founts about.' Are the founts the Potiphar-tales and Ass-sonnets? The madrigal on the mugwort with the dewdrop should be a source of refreshment also, but, if it is, what is the force of 'meantime'?

'Gibeonites.' What had they to do with potsherding ? 828. 'have Satan claim.' Jude, ver. 9.

829. as Metaphysic Poet.' Is there a reference here, or has the illustrative Moses turned into Browning?

830. 'Meribah.' Numbers, ch. xx. Cp. Exod. xvii. 7.

Ll. 833-861.

Human society is not a machine in working order: we do not understand what the present scheme of things is aiming at. The machine is only being fitted together in preparation for producing certain results in another life.

833-861.

society is a marvel machine in Why, process of

What

construction.

"But it is presumptuous," some one interrupts, "to claim such a high function for any poet." But I don't Human really claim much. It is you, my brother, who at and magnify such office. "Office," say you? my work is scarcely entitled to such a name. are we doing in this life? We are simply experimenting on one another's powers, and wondering how matters would go if, say, you and I changed places. In fact, we are only watching human society being built up like a machine. In the case of a finished one, our whole concern is with the work it can do; but at present,