contrives, by some fine instinct, to get behind
and within the people of whom he writes, sees with their eyes, hears
with their ears, though he speaks with his own lips. But one must
observe that the judgment of none of his characters is a final
judgment; the artist, the lover, the cynic, the charlatan, the sage,
the priest--they none of them provide a solution to life; they set out
on their quest, they make their guesses, they reveal their aims, but
they never penetrate the inner secret. It is all inference and hope;
Browning himself seems to believe in life, not because of the reasons
which his characters give for believing in it, but in spite of all
their reasons. Like little boats, the reasons seem to strand, one by
one, some sooner, some later, on the sands beneath the shallow sea;
and then the great serene large faith of the poet comes flooding in,
and bears them on their way.

It is somewhat thus that we must deal with life; it is no good making
up a philosophy which just keeps us gay when all is serene and
prosperous. Unpleasant, tedious, vexing, humiliating, painful,
shattering things befall us all by the way. That is the test of our
belief in life, if nothing daunts us, if nothing really mars our
serenity of mood.

And so what this little book of mine tries to recommend is that we
should bestir ourselves to design, plan, use, practise life; not drift
helplessly on its current, shouting for joy when all is bright,
helplessly bemoaning ourselves when all is dark; and that we should do
this by guarding ourselves from impulse and whim, by feeding our minds
and hearts on all the great words, high examples, patient endurances,
splendid acts, of those whom we recognise to have been the finer sort
of men. One of the greatest blessings of our time is that we can do
that so easily. In the dullest, most monotonous life we can stay
ourselves upon this heavenly manna, if we have the mind. We need not
feel alone or misunderstood or unappreciated, even if we are
surrounded by harsh, foolish, dry, discontented, mournful persons. The
world is fuller now than it ever was of brave and kindly people who
will help us if we ask for help. Of course if we choose to perish
without a struggle, we can do that. And my last word of advice to
people into whose hands this book may fall, who are suffering from a
sense of dim failure, timid bewilderment, with a vague desire in the
background to make something finer and stronger out of life