of the outer world; for that in his own 'Yet must I leave thee, woman, to thy shame. Idylls' was due partly to the sentiment of the book, which in Elaine' especially is very lovely, partly to the modernization of the antique which it contains, an eternal source of interest (though the new and old elements here are not blent in perfect harmony), and partly to the easiness of the style; for many people who had been accustomed to regard Mr. Tennyson as a very difficult writer though a great poet, now found on a sudden that he had written a work which they could understand as well as the last novel from the circulating library. It would be unjust to deny that the Idylls' have in one way merit of a very high order; some of the single lines have a beauty and profundity that has rarely been exceeded. Yet, on the whole, we agree with that acute critic, M. Taine, that both the Idylls' and Enoch Arden are far surpassed by Maud'; for notwithstanding the extravagance of the beginning and end of Maud,' there is in the middle a flow of soft and exquisite poetry, of which we can only instance particularly we wish we had space to quote-the two lyrics beginning I have led her home, my love, my only friend,' and 'O that 'twere possible.' There is less of the artist in Maud' than in any other of Mr. Tennyson's works, and this, though it may seem like blame, is in reality praise; for he is, for the most part, over careful about the artistic effect of what he writes. For being thro' his cowardice allow'd Her station, taken everywhere for pure, She like a new disease, unknown to men, Creeps, no precaution used, among the crowd, Makes wicked lightnings of her eyes, and saps The fealty of our friends, and stirs the pulse With devil's leaps, and poisons half the young.' Surely this is too elaborate to be natural on such an occasion! Moral maxims and reasonings are not the language in which keen injury expresses itself. But Arthur talks as if he had just been attending Mr. Matthew Arnold's lectures on the grand style. And for the whole character of The want of comprehensiveness which Arthur: he is intended as a man with a marks Mr. Tennyson's treatment of his high though impracticable ideal, and it is subject is equally apparent in his manner meant that we should admire him. But of dealing with intellectual problems. That such men are admirable, or mere dreamers, he has been an intellectual force in our day, according as they do or do not appreciate we know well; but he has not been an irtelwith some measure of accuracy the antago- lectual discoverer, he has not exercised a nistic forces of the world around them, the penetrative research in unknown regions, real nature of men and of things. A man he has even in some directions manifestly foiled in the pursuit of an ideal may be failed to compass the thoughts of other worthy of our highest admiration; but a inquirers. What may be said of him is, man pursuing an ideal blindly, without any that he has brought a singularly pure mind observation, prudence, or design, is a weak to the consideration of questions of religion character. And in Mr. Tennyson, whether and philosophy, which are commonly obwe are to consider Arthur as the chief of scured by bad passions and vehement and uncivilized tribes, or as the more polished cloudy argumentation on the part of instatesman, is all one; in neither case does quirers. He has not solved these queshe display any of the qualities of wisdom; tions; he has formed no new conceptions, he pursues his ideal blindly, and that ideal drawn no fine distinctions, though as a is neither a very admirable nor a very intel-highly educated man he has entered into ligible one. And does either Merlin, or the conceptions and distinctions of others. Geraint, or Lancelot, display, and force us But he has surveyed imaginatively that to admire in them, any real ability, intellect, fertility in device, readiness in expedients? We are sure they do not; they show great feeling, and remarkable examples of the force of conscience, but that is all. Indeed, the great popularity of the which we mean by the mysterious words, God, Man, Immortality; he has brought them nearer, not to our intellects but to our feelings; he has brooded over them and associated them with our terrestrial experience, our love, our hope. He has thus, as we said, been an intellectual force, not by virtue of pre-eminent original intellect, but because his powers of sympathy and of realization, disarming prejudice, have served as a link between ordinary men and profound speculators. And that brevity of his style, which we have already noticed, lends dignity to his utterance. There can be no doubt of the impressiveness of the following lines: "O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer shock, Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure. "That we may lift from out the dust A voice as unto him that hears, The truths that never can be proved Many passages in In Memoriam' are more simple in style than the above; but here, as always, the thought is perfectly simple. There are, however, topics where not simplicity, but complexity of thought is required; and here Mr. Tennyson fails. His political reflections are, as we have said, rare; when they occur, they are too frequently narrow and unjust, as in the following passage: Or, to take another topic; how differently would Mr. Browning have treated the speculations of physiological science from the manner in which they are disposed of in the following lines: "I trust I have not wasted breath: I think we are not wholly brain, Magnetic mockeries; not in vain, Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death. 'Not only cunning casts in clay: Let Science prove we are, and then What matters Science unto men, At least to me? I would not stay. Let him, the wisest man who springs Hereafter, up from childhood shape His actions like the greater ape, But I was born to other things.' We own 'we are quite at rest as to the fear expressed in these lines. Can science disprove the fact of our wishes, desires, delights; can it disprove the fact that men can sacrifice their own happiness to that of others; can it disprove counsels of love, humility, and patience; can it, in short, disprove that we are, actually, men? How, with all these things remaining, can we be a' magnetic mockery?' Would it make us less men now, supposing even we were proved to have sprung from apes? No one, certainly, can contemplate the discoveries or the theories of scientific men, and not feel an intense curiosity as to what the links may be which join such discoveries or theories to our moral nature our personal self. The twofold world in which we live-the world of mind and matter, which, in spite of all philosophical efforts to comprise it in the unity of a single principle, still remains twofold-this is a topic which indeed must call for strenuous meditation on our part; many things, doubtless, are now hidden from us which will some day be known; many new points of view will be opened out, of which now we have no conception. But of what use is it merely to express indignation, as Mr. Tennyson does here, at the fanatical materialist? There are such men, no doubt, just as there are fanatical theologians; but it is not good to deal with them; even argument is in general useless; and certainly to hold up the hands and cry out upon them is not likely to have a beneficial effect. It is difficult enough even for moderate men to arrive at a knowledge of each others' principles and modes of thinking: but this, at all events, is an effort worth making. The intellectual subtlety which is alien to striking characteristic. Mr. Tennyson, is Mr. Browning's most Both these two poets have interested themselves deeply in the unknown mysteries of the universe. But in the manner of their dealing with them there is an absolute contrast. To put it roughly, Mr. Tennyson never writes about them a line that does not base itself upon some common thought; Mr. Browning. never puts down on paper an idea that could possibly have occurred to any man but himself. Mr. Tennyson is always trying to assimilate and adapt himself to others; Mr. Browning, to sever himself off from others, to hold them at arms' length, and look at them from without. The whole effort of Mr. Tennyson is to obtain a mas tery over common things; the whole effort | on which satire can be tolerable. For it is The Judgment-Day: to retrocede (I uttered to myself), "that Day!" All darkness from my spirit too: There stood I, found and fixed, I knew, I My brain held ne'ertheless compact That was too hard! Nor did the cry But Thou, who knowest all, dost know The severity of Mr. Browning's intellect is so great, that even when he is most personal, as here, he yet contemplates himself from the outside; and keen satirist as he is, he yet tests and tries himself with greater stringency than he exercises towards any one else, which indeed is the only condition nyson, is not his habit. He seldom at- "I heard a voice, perchance I heard So that scarce a care it stirred If the voice was real or no : I heard it in my youth when first The waters of my life outburst: ' 1 "Thinketh, such shows nor right nor wrong in Him, high hopes, and what becomes of those who | is it fit, after all, for men to boast much of have failed. It will be seen at once how their moral elevation? There may be bewidely different this is from Mr. Tennyson's ings as superior to us as we are to Caliban. position. Mr. Tennyson feels the simple Caliban, then, gives his views respecting sorrow which pervades mortals at the con- the Deity thus: templation either of their own or of another's pain. This,' he says, 'cannot be ! Surely we are formed for happiness; surely pain is a transient condition; and he appeals for an answer to the principle of the universe, to Nature, to God, as to whether it is not so. But Mr. Browning discerns erroneous purpose, selfishness, that is, the exclusive desire of our own happiness, as the cause of pain; this is the object of his sorrow, this he endeavours to disclose and lay bare in all its secret hiding-places. It is from this vantage-ground that Mr. Browning exercises his satire. Thus it is the satire not of a man of the world, but that of a philosopher. Now, philosophers have been seldom satirists; for it is hard to combine with deep thinking that lightness of touch which must accompany good satire. Plato, however, is a satirist; and so is Mr. Carlyle, and so is Mr. Browning. And this it is which lends its peculiar character to all Mr. Browning's maturer poems, and notably to that which we are disposed to regard as the finest of all, Caliban upon Setebos.' Men have been wont, in every age, to clothe God with their own qualities; to picture Him as in His attributes like to themselves, and differing only by reason of His greater power. And indeed to a certain extent this method Nor kind, nor cruel: He is strong and Lord. Calvinism, to which Caliban has clearly some leanings, is not very popular now. But we seem to ourselves to have heard inculcated from the lips of very celebrated preachers that physical fear and dread of the Divine power which shows itself so prominently in Caliban, and than which nothing can be more lowering: the worst sort of anthropomorphism, since it materializes the action of God, and renders Christianity, the most spiritual of all creeds, a creed of mere physical penalties and rewards. But let us quote the concluding passage of this poem, which, among other things, has the merit of remarkable pictur ་ esqueness: What, what? A curtain o'er the world at once! It was fool's play, this prattling! Ha! The wind move, And fast invading fires begin! White blaze- His thunder follows! Fool to gibe at Him! —whether it be called anthropomorphism or by some other name is necessary; for it is only through mind that we can understand mind. Divinity is intelligible to us only through the contemplation of Humanity; nor can words that describe a living spirit have any meaning to us except as interpreted through that which we know of our own spirits. But still those eternal aims and desires, those possibilities of a happiness lasting not merely for short intervals but for ever, which really exist in the na- There is, indeed, this to be remarked ture of man, are by much the least promi- about Caliban upon Setebos,- that Mr. nent portions of that nature; what come Browning has put into Caliban a great deal before us most vividly are temporary pas- of his own specialities, his keen observation sions, that pass away after a short season and argumentative power. And this in of their exercise. So that what is com- general is true of Mr. Browning's represenmonly meant by anthropomorphism consists tations of character. He does not make in the attributing these temporary passions his characters show themselves purely and to the Spiritual Centre of the Universe, simply as they would have done in actual and this is clearly untenable; yet with the life; he makes them survey themselves large class of unintelligent good people from an external point of view, which benothing is more common. To such people, longs to none other than Mr. Browning then, Mr. Browning takes up his parable. himself. Some philosopher or other has Caliban, as his lights go, is a pious creature; said that we shall never understand instinct his morality is certainly of a low order; but until a man has been able to spend his leisure hours in the brain of an animal with-ity is too peculiar for it not often to obout being that animal. Whether this be trude in his representations of others. But true or not, the process exactly represents of his power there can never be a question, Mr. Browning's mode of procedure with his and he has written no more powerful poems characters. The real Caliban would, we than those of which we have been speaking. imagine, have been inapt in thought and We prefer, however, at present, to speak sparing of speech. But Mr. Browning of other of his poems in which he has shown takes up his station in Caliban's brain; he less acuteness and more tenderness. For marshals the vague fears, the dull, slow Mr. Browning's tenderness is great: he transitions from one idea to another; he fails utterly when he tries to be effusive, puts them in trim order and logical cohe- but there is a certain meditative pathos in rence; and, lo, Caliban is eloquent! And which he is pre-eminent. 'Andrea del what Mr. Browning does with Caliban he Sarto' is a great instance of this. The does likewise with Bishop Blougram; with calm Italian evening, the sorrow for genius David in his Saul; with the apostle St. that has fallen below its mark, and hopes John in his poem A Death in the Desert.' frustrated not without fault, the sense of For instance, to take the last of these: if love that was and has been withdrawn, are there is one thing more than another notice- felt to breathe through the verses. Most, able in St. John's writings, it is the absence however, of Mr. Browning's poems of this of consecutive argument. I saw, I heard, sort are in rhyme. We think, indeed, that I know,' is his style; not This is true, there are great shortcomings in his rhythmiergo that is true.' But in Mr. Browning's cal productions. His style is always rough poem the apostle presents himself not mere- and unmusical: this is the disadvantage ly as an elaborate reasoner, but as fully fur- that naturally counterbalances his delight nished with the latest modern philosophy. in intellectual exercise, but it is a disadvanBishop Blougram' is a scarcely less strong tage that in blank verse can be overcome instance of Mr. Browning's manner. The by the excellence of the matter. In rhythm, bishop as those who have read his poem his failure in this respect is more importwill well remember is a sceptic, with a ant; and we confess ourselves quite unable strong inclination to infidelity; and he here to understand how he could have acquiesced defends himself against the charge of hypoc-in such lines as the fourth of those that folrisy for holding, under these circumstances, low :— rhythm and meaning: his bishopric. The acuteness and plausi-I said-Then, dearest, since 'tis so, bility of his defence is certainly surprising. Since now at length my fate I know, In a manner he is even successful; he Since nothing all my love avails, proves, contrary to the expectation of all, Since all, my life seemed meant for, fails, the consistency of his career. He shows Since this was written and needs must be,' &c. that his life is modelled according to a rule; Or in the jostling of consonants in the first he asks you (and you find it difficult to answer) why he should not follow the prin- of these lines:— ciples to which he is devoted. For certain-Thou let'st the stranger's glove lie where it fell; ly, if a man openly and undisguisedly fol- If old things remain old things, all is well,' &c. lows his own selfish interest to the exclusion Yet here is a stanza beautiful at once in of the interest of all other people, it is not easy to propound an argument that shall convince him himself that he is wrong. But,How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired! nevertheless, in the ordinary language of I think how I should view the earth and skies mankind, such people are called rascals; And sea, when once again my brow was bared they are not thought well of, and this must After thy healing, with such different eyes. have been perfectly well known to Bishop world, as God has made it! all is beauty: And knowing this is love, and love is duty. Blougram. We say, then, that a real bishWhat further may be sought for or declared?' op of this character would not have exhibited himself so openly; he would, even to We ought not to leave Mr. Browning himself, have slurred over with ambiguous without some notice, however slight, of the language the intense selfishness of his aims; remarkable poem the Ring and the much less would he have forfeited the good Book'- which he has just published. It opinion of a hearer for the sake of demon- deserves a fuller consideration than we can strating his own impregnability to logical give to it here; but in a general estimate of his works it cannot be entirely passed over. The first thought which the Ring and the Book' arouses, we do not say in the reader of it, but in any one who surveys attack. Mr. Browning's genius does not, therefore, appear to us so dramatic as it is sometimes thought to be. His own individual |