The book by which
Mr. Browning was best known was the two green volumes of "Men and Women."
In these, I still think, is the heart of his genius beating most
strenuously and with an immortal vitality. Perhaps this, for its
compass, is the collection of poetry the most various and rich of modern
English times, almost of any English times. But just as Mr. Fitzgerald
cared little for what Lord Tennyson wrote after 1842, so I have never
been able to feel quite the same enthusiasm for Mr. Browning's work after
"Men and Women." He seems to have more influence, though that influence
is vague, on persons who chiefly care for thought, than on those who
chiefly care for poetry. I have met a lady who had read "The Ring and
the Book" often, the "Lotus Eaters" not once. Among such students are
Mr. Browning's disciples of the Inner Court: I dwell but in the Court of
the Gentiles. While we all--all who attempt rhyme--have more or less
consciously imitated the manner of Lord Tennyson, Mr. Swinburne, Mr.
Rossetti, such imitations of Mr. Browning are uncommonly scarce. He is
lucky enough not to have had the seed of his flower stolen and sown
everywhere till--
"Once again the people
Called it but a weed."
The other new poet of these days was Mr. Clough, who has many
undergraduate qualities. But his peculiar wistful scepticism in religion
had then no influence on such of us as were still happily in the ages of
faith.
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