ius, that is presented
to the reader of these letters. There are some letter-writers whose
genius is so closely allied with their daily life that it shines
through into their familiar correspondence with their friends, and
their letters become literature. Such, in their very different ways,
with very different types of genius and very different habits of daily
life, are Gray, Cowper, Lamb, perhaps Fitzgerald. But letter-writers
such as these are few. More often the correspondence of men and women
of letters is valuable for the light it throws upon the character and
opinions of those whose character and opinions we are led to regard
with admiration or respect, or at least interest, on account of their
other writings. In these cases it may be held that the publication
is justifiable or not, according as the character which it reveals is
affected favourably or the reverse. Not all truth, even about famous
men, is useful for publication, but only such as enables us to
appreciate better the works which have made them famous. Their highest
selves are expressed in their literary work; and it is a poor service
to truth to insist on bringing to light the fact that they also had
lower selves--common, dull, it may be vicious. What illustrates their
genius and enhances our respect for their character, may rightly be
made known; but what shakes our belief and mars our enjoyment in them,
is simply better left in obscurity.

With regard to Mrs. Browning, however, there is no room for doubt
upon these points. These letters, familiarly written to her private
friends, without the smallest idea of publication, treating of the
thoughts that came uppermost in the ordinary language of conversation,
can lay no claim to make a new revelation of her genius. On the other
hand, perhaps because the circumstances of Mrs. Browning's life
cut her off to an unusual extent from personal intercourse with her
friends, and threw her back upon letter-writing as her principal means
of communication with them, they contain an unusually full revelation
of her character. And this is not wholly unconnected with her literary
genius, since her personal convictions, her moral character, entered
more fully than is often the case into the composition of her poetry.
Her best poetry is that which is most full of her personal emotions.
The 'Sonnets from the Portuguese,' the 'Cry of the Children,'
'Cowper's Grave,' the 'Dead Pan,' 'Aurora Leigh,' and all the Italian
po