last word shall be a refutation of disbelief to come. This disbelief will be two-headed, disbelief in Christ being other than a projection from man's mind(doubt of the Love), and disbelief in a Divine governance associated with miracles, in view of the early superstitions of 'will' everywhere resolved into 'law' -(doubt of the Power). To these doubts John prophetically replies that . . . 'Miracles' guided the child, they are not to coerce the man. Because man knows love and will in himself, and must feel that the acknowledgment of a Divine Love and Power solves earth's problem as nothing else does, he is preferring death to life if he rejects the solution. In reply to the objection against partial truth, imperfect revelation, John urges that only such truth and revelation give men a chance of progressing through the very struggle to obtain better. God gives a gleam, that men may do their part, which is to grow into fuller light through working their own way to it. Browning, through John, accepts this age's doubt as a test and stimulus to faith.

Caliban upon Setebos is one of the most truly creative of Browning's works. Imagining the rudimentary religion of Shakspere's most poor credulous monster, it is in extraordinary contrast with the preceding poem and with Browning's general transcendentalism. It accords with the scientific and strictly natural explanation of the evolution of religion. Caliban's 'moral sense' is the check of fear. He credits Setebos with his own purposeless malignity, sullen

jealousy, and cunning, these being his rudimentary idea of Will. Caliban evidences the dualism of primitive belief in his notion of a certain 'Quiet' above Setebos, this being his rudimentary idea of Law. The germ of rites and sacrifices lives in Caliban, the idea of Love is entirely latent. Browning makes his uncouth creature speak of himself in the third person, to suggest his undeveloped sense of personality. This decharacterisation is not the least brilliant stroke of the poem.

Confessions is a perfect piece of the art of realism, distilling from every-day things a tragic comedy of life.

May and Death has the true touch of nature, recognisable by every one who knows the poignancy of some sight, scent, or sound that is associated with the memory of the dead.

Deaf and Dumb (not included till 1868) was written for Woolner's sculptured group of Sir Thomas Fairbairn's deaf and dumb children. Subject and statues suggested an idea germane to Browning's general conviction that all life's hindrances and limitations contain compensatory blessings.

Prospice is a brave soul's greeting to the enemy, death. With unbandaged eyes, the strong man will essay the last conflict, mindful of its dreadfulness, yet confident in the faith that arms him against fear.

Eurydice to Orpheus (not included till 1868) is an expression of overmastering love. The lines appeared in the Academy Catalogue, 1864, to describe the face of Eurydice, in Sir Frederick Leighton's picture.

K

Youth and Art is a lighter variation of the theme of Cristina and Dis Aliter Visum. Two people missed love, once, and once only, within their reach, and, missing love, they miss the best in life.

A Face records a wish to have a certain 'little head' painted in the style most advantageous to its beauty.

A Likeness dwells on the instinct to keep certain associations secret and sacred, and the feeling, half delight, half irritation, when one's heart's hidden. treasure is noticed and admired by others. Marc Antonio (Raimondi) was the first famous Italian engraver (sixteenth century). Giovanni Volpato was Bartolozzi's great pupil (1733-1802).

Mr. Sludge, "The Medium," is, with the exception of Count Guido Franceschini, the only one of Browning's special pleadings which is almost undiluted falsehood. The 'medium,' found cheating and brought to bay, gives his own account of the rise and progress of his 'medium'-ship. That his life has been a tissue of the most unwholesome fraud is beyond argument, so he endeavours to throw its odium on his 'patrons,' who may indeed be considered half responsible for the garbage of his soul. They encouraged him from point to point of rappings and manifestations till the production of them became skilled labour. They egged him on to emulate the 'Pennsylvanian mediums.' They petted him for each deeper dip in the morass. They accounted for every ignorance and improbability of the spirits. Sludge loathsomely

insinuates that he has at all events been helpful to the cause of religion against atheists. The whole of the 'apology' is eaten through and through with the despicable artifices of luxuriant moral disease, cowardice, and untruthfulness. In the second part, Sludge plausibly expresses his 'belief' in the connection between this world and the supernatural, in divine intervention in so-called 'small' events, and in the selection of certain persons (so why not Sludge?) to gather and interpret such communications. The unmasked character of Sludge only looks through when, Mr. Hiram H. Horsfall leaving him, he is free to indulge in vituperation, and to compose the story whereby he intends to explain their dissolution of amity.

Apparent Failure gives the reflections raised in Browning's mind by the sight of three corpses in the Morgue, and expresses a noble trust in the compassion-and the justice-of God (cp. In Memoriam

liv.)

Epilogue represents three religious phases: the jubilant worship of David, the bereaved desolateness of Renan, and lastly, a renewed faith, dispensing with symbolism, which Browning declares as his own.

Book, 1868-69, Brownthe longest poems of the

The Ring and the ing's masterpiece, is one of century and deals with more life, action, and character than any other. It consists of twelve monologues on one subject, Count Guido Frances

chini's murder-case. The first book and the closing one are Browning's prologue and winding up of his huge epic drama. The other ten retrospective monologues are spoken by characters themselves, nine in all, for Count Guido, the defendant, speaks twice, once before his condemnation, once after. Each character recounts the case throughout, and any one monologue, read alone, would, in a sense, give the complete story. So many tellings, and yet no two are alike, and there is no sameness. Each new version gives facts unnoticed by the others, every observation and inference being always exquisitely characteristic of its speaker. The Ring and the Book is most free from what Guido calls

'Artistry's haunting curse, the Incomplete.

We feel that Browning has said all that was sayable concerning the celebrated cause which was the talk of Rome early in 1698, and looked at it from the standpoint of all manner of men. Notwithstanding the ring-like clasp of the one poetic imagination, we feel as if we could not be reading one man's work, but as if a magic mirror had been flashed upon the individual mind of each long dead speaker. We are chiefly conscious of this feeling some time after reading the poem, when the recognisable accent of Browning has partially faded, and the mental conceptions remain all the stronger. For us, those obscure Italian people live with more vividness than real, historical characters. The most unskilful reader