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    Chapter 3

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    CHAPTER III

    BROWNING AND HIS MARRIAGE

    Robert Browning had his faults, and the general direction of those
    faults has been previously suggested. The chief of his faults, a
    certain uncontrollable brutality of speech and gesture when he was
    strongly roused, was destined to cling to him all through his life,
    and to startle with the blaze of a volcano even the last quiet years
    before his death. But any one who wishes to understand how deep was
    the elemental honesty and reality of his character, how profoundly
    worthy he was of any love that was bestowed upon him, need only study
    one most striking and determining element in the question--Browning's
    simple, heartfelt, and unlimited admiration for other people. He was
    one of a generation of great men, of great men who had a certain
    peculiar type, certain peculiar merits and defects. Carlyle, Tennyson,
    Ruskin, Matthew Arnold, were alike in being children of a very
    strenuous and conscientious age, alike in possessing its earnestness
    and air of deciding great matters, alike also in showing a certain
    almost noble jealousy, a certain restlessness, a certain fear of other
    influences. Browning alone had no fear; he welcomed, evidently without
    the least affectation, all the influences of his day. A very
    interesting letter of his remains in which he describes his pleasure
    in a university dinner. "Praise," he says in effect, "was given very
    deservedly to Matthew Arnold and Swinburne, and to that pride of
    Oxford men, Clough." The really striking thing about these three names
    is the fact that they are united in Browning's praise in a way in
    which they are by no means united in each other's. Matthew Arnold, in
    one of his extant letters, calls Swinburne "a young pseudo-Shelley,"
    who, according to Arnold, thinks he can make Greek plays good by
    making them modern. Mr. Swinburne, on the other hand, has summarised
    Clough in a contemptuous rhyme:--

    "There was a bad poet named Clough,
    Whom his friends all united to puff.
    But the public, though dull,
    Has not quite such a skull
    As belongs to believers in Clough."

    The same general fact will be found through the whole of Browning's

    life and critical attitude. He adored Shelley, and also Carlyle who
    sneered at him. He delighted in Mill, and also in Ruskin who rebelled
    against Mill. He excused Napoleon III. and Landor who hurled
    interminable curses against Napoleon. He admired all the cycle of
    great men who all contemned each other. To say that he had no streak
    of envy in his nature would be true, but unfair; for there is no
    justification for attributing any of these great men's opinions to
    envy. But Browning was really unique, in that he had a certain
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