and service done to him.

==
. . . They always treat me gently in `Punch' -- why don't you do the same

by the Browning Society? I see you emphasize Miss Hickey's acknowledgement
of defects in time and want of rehearsal: but I look for no great perfection

in a number of kindly disposed strangers to me personally,
who try to interest people in my poems by singing and reading them.

They give their time for nothing, offer their little entertainment
for nothing, and certainly get next to nothing in the way of thanks --

unless from myself who feel grateful to the faces I shall never see,
the voices I shall never hear. The kindest notices I have had,

or at all events those that have given me most pleasure,
have been educed by this Society -- A. Sidgwick's paper,

that of Professor Corson, Miss Lewis' article in this month's `Macmillan' --
and I feel grateful for it all, for my part, -- and none the less

for a little amusement at the wonder of some of my friends
that I do not jump up and denounce the practices which must annoy me so much.

Oh! my `gentle Shakespeare', how well you felt and said --
`never anything can be amiss when simpleness and duty tender it.'

So, dear Lady, here is my duty and simplicity tendering itself to you,
with all affection besides, and I being ever yours,

R. Browning.
==

That general disposition of the London world which left
the ranks of the little Society to be three-fourths recruited among persons,

many living at a distance, whom the poet did not know,
became also in its way a satisfaction. It was with him a matter of course,

though never of indifference, that his closer friends of both sexes
were among its members; it was one of real gratification

that they included from the beginning such men as Dean Boyle of Salisbury,
the Rev. Llewellyn Davies, George Meredith, and James Cotter Morison --

that they enjoyed the sympathy and co-operation of such a one
as Archdeacon Farrar. But he had an ingenuous pride

in reading the large remainder of the Society's lists of names,
and pointing out the fact that there was not one among them

which he had ever heard. It was equivalent to saying,
`All these people care for me as a poet. No social interest,

no personal prepossession, has attracted them to my work.'
And when the unknown name was not only appended to a list; when it formed

the signature of a paper -- excellent or indifferent as might be --
but in either case bearingwitness to a careful and unobtrusive

study of his poems, by so much was the gratification increased.
He seldom weighed the intrinsic merit of such productions;

he did not read them critically. No man was ever more adverse
to the seeming ungraciousness of analyzing the quality of a gift.

In real life indeed this power of gratitude sometimes defeated its own end,
by neutralizing his insight into the motive or effort involved

in different acts of kindness, and placing them all successively
on the same plane.

In the present case, however, an ungraduated acceptance
of the labour bestowed on him was part of the neutral attitude

which it was his constantendeavour to maintain. He always refrained
from noticing any erroneous statement concerning himself or his works

which might appear in the Papers of the Society: since, as he alleged,
if he once began to correct, he would appear to endorse

whatever he left uncorrected, and thus make himself responsible,
not only for any interpretation that might be placed on his poems, but,

what was far more serious, for every eulogium that was bestowed upon them.
He could not stand aloof as entirely as he or even his friends desired,

since it was usual with some members of the Society to seek from him
elucidations of obscure passages which, without these, it was declared,

would be a stumbling-block to future readers. But he disliked
being even to this extent drawn into its operation; and his help was,

I believe, less and less frequently invoked. Nothing could be more false
than the rumour which once arose that he superintended those performances

of his plays which took place under the direction of the Society.
Once only, and by the urgent desire of some of the actors,

did he witness a last rehearsal of one of them.
It was also a matter of course that men and women brought together

by a pre-existing interest in Mr. Browning's work should often ignore
its authorized explanations, and should read and discuss it

in the light of personal impressions more congenial to their own mind;
and the various and circumstantial views sometimes elicited by a given poem

did not serve to render it more intelligible. But the merit of true poetry
lies so largely in its suggestiveness, that even mistaken impressions of it

have their positive value and also their relative truth;
and the intellectualfriction which was thus created,

not only in the parent society, but in its offshoots in England and America,
was not their least important result.

These Societies conferred, it need hardly be said, no less real benefits
on the public at large. They extended the sale of Mr. Browning's works,

and with it their distinct influence for intellectual and moral good.
They not only created in many minds an interest in these works,

but aroused the interest where it was latent, and gave it expression
where it had hitherto found no voice. One fault, alone,

could be charged against them; and this lay partly in the nature
of all friendly concerted action: they stirred a spirit of enthusiasm

in which it was not easy, under conditions equallygenuine,
to distinguish the individual element from that which was due to contagion;

while the presence among us of the still living poet
often infused into that enthusiasm a vaguelyemotional element,

which otherwise detracted from its intellectual worth.
But in so far as this was a drawback to the intended action of the Societies,

it was one only in the most negative sense; nor can we doubt, that,
to a certain extent, Mr. Browning's best influence was promoted by it.

The hysterical sensibilities which, for some years past,
he had unconsciously but not unfrequently aroused in the minds of women,

and even of men, were a morbid development of that influence,
which its open and systematicextension tended rather to diminish

than to increase.
It is also a matter of history that Robert Browning had many

deep and constant admirers in England, and still more in America,*
long before this organized interest had developed itself.

Letters received from often remote parts of the United States
had been for many years a detail of his daily experience;

and even when they consisted of the request for an autograph,
an application to print selections from his works, or a mere expression

of schoolboy pertness or schoolgirl sentimentality, they bore witness
to his wide reputation in that country, and the high esteem

in which he was held there.** The names of Levi and Celia Thaxter of Boston
had long, I believe, been conspicuous in the higher ranks of his disciples,

though they first occur in his correspondence at about this date.
I trust I may take for granted Mrs. Thaxter's permission

to publish a letter from her.
--

* The cheapening of his works in America, induced by the absence
of internationalcopyright, accounts of course in some degree

for their wider diffusion, and hence earlier appreciation there.
** One of the most curious proofs of this was the Californian Railway

time-table edition of his poems.
--

==
Newtonville, Massachusetts: March 14, 1880.

My dear Mr. Browning:
Your note reached me this morning, but it belonged to my husband,

for it was he who wrote to you; so I gave it to him,
glad to put into his hands so precious a piece of manuscript,

for he has for you and all your work an enthusiasticappreciation
such as is seldom found on this planet: it is not possible

that the admiration of one mortal for another can exceed his feeling for you.
You might have written for him,

I've a friend over the sea,
. . . .

It all grew out of the books I write, &c.
You should see his fine wrath and scorn for the idiocy