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Sir James sent him instructions by telegram to proceed at once to Kurland and Livonia, where Citizen Browning was abroad again, and town and countryside blazed in revolt. It was a roving commission, and for two months Trent followed his luck. It served him not less well than usual. He was the only correspondent who saw General Dragilew killed in the street at Volmar by a girl of eighteen.
And all the time he had talked so beautifully and had quoted Browning and Keats. And finally he had told her that she had only to say the word, and leave the mill with him forever. But where, she did not even care only to get away from the mill, from her disgrace, from her drunken father, from her wretched life.
But nobody there, except a small knot of pre-Raffaellite men, pretend to do him justice. Mr. Forster has done the best, in the press. As a sort of lion, Robert has his range in society and for the rest, you should see Chapman's returns! While, in America he is a power, a writer, a poet he is read he lives in the hearts of the people. "Browning readings" here in Boston "Browning evenings" there.
Besides, the servant's room enabled them to take in two boarders instead of one. Martin placed the Swinburne and Browning on the chair, took off his coat, and sat down on the bed. A screeching of asthmatic springs greeted the weight of his body, but he did not notice them.
No poets at all approaching the first class can be said to have been born within a decade either way of Tennyson and Browning, though some extremely interesting writers of verse of about the same date will have to be noticed in the latter part of this chapter.
This queer trait in Browning, his inability to keep a kind of demented ingenuity even out of poems in which it was quite inappropriate, is a thing which must be recognised, and recognised all the more because as a whole he was a very perfect artist, and a particularly perfect artist in the use of the grotesque.
"I've found a book with a portrait of my beloved Elizabeth Browning. Look at that sweet, gentle face, surrounded with ringlets: it's just as I imagined her. I love her all the better now." They had opened other books written by women and, leaning over the table, were comparing the frontispiece portraits of the authors, interesting or handsome, grave or smiling, young or old.
But since my friend is fond of quoting Browning, I also will quote him, and let the poet say in the flash of three lines what the dialectician would need a page to say: All service ranks the same with God, God's puppets, best and worst, Are we: there is no last nor first,
There are few more pleasant pages in this book than those which record Tennyson’s relations with another poet who was blessed in his wife—Browning. Knowles at the Hollies, Clapham Common.
Even Browning, though his popularity came late, found himself carried into all the nooks and corners of the reading public.
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