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 such a demonstration to recognise the depth and purity of the sources from which genuine poetry springs, even at the price of some shock to our sense of decorum. The only question is, whether the same result might not have been achieved with a less sweeping revelation. I will not venture to express any distinct opinion, because I do not quite see the force of Mr. Browning's dilemma; but I will suggest a consideration or two which seem to me to be relevant.

The world at large, as Miss Barrett says, has a right to the 'soul secrets' of eminent people. Is that true? In a sense, one may fully accept the doctrine. It is well to know the truth about the men and women who have left us intellectual legacies; it is well, even if the truth be not, as in this case it certainly is, altogether gratifying. Every such life has what we call its 'lesson,' and one not the less instructive if the career implies some of the worst human qualities. Pope could lie enormously, and Burns could be decidedly coarse, and Byron was not a pattern of domestic excellence. I should wish the essence of the character to be revealed to me in every case; and should be profoundly interested by the truth, though I might not extract a definite moral or learn what is called a lesson.