sudden transformation but a continuation of the slow educative process
of earth in a succession of preliminary heavens before the consummate
state is reached. "Progress," in short, was too deeply ingrained in
Browning's conception of what was ultimately good, and therefore
ultimately real, not to find entrance into his heaven, were it only by
some casual backdoor of involuntary intuition. Even in that more
gracious state "achievement lacked a gracious somewhat"[126] to his
indomitable fighting instinct.

[Footnote 125: _Saul_, xvii.]

[Footnote 126: _One Word More_.]

"Soul resteth not, and mine must still advance,"

he had said in _Pauline_, and the soul that ceased to advance ceased for
Browning, in his most habitual mood, to exist. The "infinity" of the
soul was not so much a gift as a destiny, a power of hungering for ever
after an ideal completeness which it was indefinitely to pursue and to
approach, but not to reach. Far from having to await a remote
emancipation to become completely itself, the soul's supremest life was
in its hours of heroic stress, when it kept some dragon of unbelief
quiet underfoot, like Michael,

"Who stands calm, just because he feels it writhe."

It was at this point that the athletic energy of Browning's nature told
most palpably upon the complexion of his thought. It did not affect its
substance, but it altered the bearing of the parts, giving added weight
to all its mundane and positive elements. It gave value to every