onjecture. Wordsworth, Southey, and Charles Kingsley, all of whom
had gone from radicalism in their youth to conservatism in their old
age, were severally proposed as the original of Browning's portrait. The
poem was published in 1845, two years after Wordsworth was made poet
laureate. Early in 1845 Wordsworth was presented at court, a proceeding
which aroused comment--sometimes amused, sometimes indignant--from those
who recalled the poet's early scorn of rank and titles. Browning and
Miss Barrett exchanged several gay letters on this subject in May, 1845.
In commenting on a letter from Miss Martineau describing Wordsworth in
his home in 1846, Browning wrote, "Did not Shelley say long ago, 'He had
no more imagination than a pint-pot'--though in those days he used to
walk about France and Flanders like a man. _Now_, he is 'most
comfortable in his worldly affairs' and just this comes of it! He lives
the best twenty years of his life after the way of his own heart--and
when one presses in to see the result of his rare experiment--what the
_one_ alchemist whom fortune has allowed to get all his coveted
materials and set to work at last with fire and melting pot--what he
produces after all the talk of him and the like of him; why, you get
_pulvis et cinis_--a man at the mercy of the tongs and shovel." In later
life, however, Browning spoke of Wordsworth in a different tone. In a
letter to Mr. Grosart, written Feb. 24, 1875, he said, "I have been
asked the question you now address me with, and as duly answered, I
can't remember how many times. There is no sort of objection to one more
assurance, or rather confession, on my part, that I _did_ in my hasty
youth presume to use the great and venerated personality of Wordsworth
as a sort of painter's model; one from which this or the other
particular feature may be selected and turned to account. Had I intended
more--above all such a boldness as portraying the entire man--I should
not have talked about 'handfuls of silver and bits of ribbon.' These
never influenced the change of politics in the great poet--whose
defection, nevertheless, accompanied as it was by a regular face-about
of his special party, was, to my private apprehension, and even mature
consideration, an event to deplore. But, just as in the tapestry on my
wall I can recognize figures which have _struck out_ a fancy, on
occasion, that though truly enough thus derived, yet would be
preposterous as a copy; so, though I