_.]

In this way, therefore, the poet argues back from the moral
consciousness of man to the goodness of God. And he finds the ultimate
proof of this goodness in the very pessimism and scepticism and despair,
that come with the view of the apparently infinite waste in the world
and the endless miseries of humanity. The source of this despair,
namely, the recognition of evil and wrong, is just the Godhood in man.
There is no way of accounting for the fact that "Man hates what is and
loves what should be," except by "blending the quality of man with the
quality of God." And "the quality of God" is the fundamental fact in
man's history. Love is the last reality the poet always reaches. Beneath
the pessimism is love: without love of the good there were no
recognition of evil, no condemnation of it, and no despair.

But the difficulty still remains as to the permission of evil, even
though it should prove in the end to be merely apparent.

"Wherefore should any evil hap to man--
From ache of flesh to agony of soul--
Since God's All-mercy mates All-potency?
Nay, why permits He evil to Himself--
Man's sin, accounted such? Suppose a world
Purged of all pain, with fit inhabitant--
Man pure of evil in thought, word, and deed--
Were it not well? Then, wherefore otherwise?"[A]

[Footnote A: _Mihrab Shah_.]

The poet finds an answer to this difficulty in the very nature of moral
goodness, which, as we have seen, he regards as a progressive
realization of an infinitely high ideal. The demand for a world purged
of all pain and sin is really, he teaches us, a demand for a sphere
where

"Time brings
No hope, no fear: as to-day, shall be
To-morrow: advance or retreat need we
At our stand-still through eternity?"[A]

[Footnote A: _Rephan_--_Asolando_.]

What were there to "bless or curse, in such a uniform universe,"

"Where weak and strong,
The wise and the foolish, right and wrong,
Are merged alike in a neutral Best."[B]

[Footnote B: _Ibid_.]

There is a better way of life, thinks Browning, than such a state of
stagnation.

"Why should I speak? You divine the test.
When the trouble grew in my pregnant breast
A voice said, So would'st thou strive, not rest,

"Burn and not smoulder, win by worth,
Not rest content with a wealth that's dearth,
Thou art past Rephan, thy place be Earth."[C]

[Footnote C: _Ibid_.]

The discontent of man, the consciousness