his character, every kind of subjectivity is repulsive to him. He hands
to his readers "his work, his scroll, theirs to take or leave: his soul
he proffers not." For him "shop was shop only"; and though he dealt in
gems, and throws

"You choice of jewels, every one,
Good, better, best, star, moon, and sun,"[A]

[Footnote A: _Shop_.]

he still _lived_ elsewhere, and had "stray thoughts and fancies
fugitive" not meant for the open market. The poems in which Browning has
spoken without the disguise of another character are very few. There are
hardly more than two or three of much importance which can be considered
as directly reflecting his own ideas, namely, _Christmas Eve_ and
_Easter Day, La Saisiaz_, and _One Word More_--unless, spite of the
poet's warning, we add _Pauline_.

But, although the dramatic element in Browning's poetry renders it
difficult to construct his character from his works, while this is
comparatively easy in the case of Wordsworth or Byron; and although it
throws a shade of uncertainty on every conclusion we might draw as to
any specific doctrine held by him, still Browning lives in a certain
atmosphere, and looks at his characters through a medium, whose subtle
influence makes all his work indisputably _his_. The light he throws on
his men and women is not the unobtrusive light of day, which reveals
objects, but not itself. Though a true dramatist, he is not objective
like Shakespeare and Scott, whose characters seem never to have had an
author. The reader feels, rather, that Browning himself attends him
through all the sights and wonders of the world of man; he never escapes