“And her smile it seemed half holy,
  As if drawn from thoughts more far
  Than our common jestings are.”

Mrs. Browning’s character was wellnigh perfect.  Patient in long suffering, she never spoke of herself, except when the subject was forced upon her by others, and then with no complaint.  She judged not, saving when great principles were imperilled, and then was ready to sacrifice herself upon the altar of Right.  Forgiving as she wished to be forgiven, none approached her with misgivings, knowing her magnanimity.  She was ever ready to accord sympathy to all, taking an earnest interest in the most insignificant, and so humble in her greatness that her friends looked upon her as a divinity among women.  Thoughtful in the smallest things for others, she seemed to give little thought to herself; and believing in universal goodness, her nature was free from worldly suspicions.  The first to see merit, she was the last to censure faults, and gave the praise that she felt with a generous hand.  No one so heartily rejoiced at the success of others, no one was so modest in her own triumphs, which she looked upon more as a favor of which she was unworthy than as a right due to her.  She loved all who offered her affection, and would solace and advise with any.  She watched the progress of the world with tireless eye and beating heart, and, anxious for the good of the whole world, scorned to take an insular view of any political question.  With her a political question was a moral question as well.  Mrs. Browning belonged to no particular country; the world was inscribed upon the banner under which she fought.  Wrong was her enemy; against this she wrestled, in whatever part of the globe it was to be found.

A noble devotion to and faith in the regeneration of Italy was a prominent feature in Mrs. Browning’s life.  To her, Italy was from the first a living fire, not the bed of dead ashes at which the world was wont to sneer.  Her trust in God and the People was supreme; and when the Revolution of 1848 kindled the passion of liberty from the Alps to Sicily, she, in common with many another earnest spirit, believed that the hour for the fulfilment of her hopes had arrived.  Her joyful enthusiasm at the Tuscan uprising found vent in the “Eureka” which she sang with so much fervor in Part First of “Casa Guidi Windows.”

  “But never say ‘No more’
  To Italy’s life!  Her memories undismayed
  Still argue ‘Evermore’; her graves implore
  Her future to be strong and not afraid;
  Her very statues send their looks before.”

And even she was ready to believe that a Pope might be a reformer.

  “Feet, knees, and sinews, energies divine,
  Were never yet too much for men who ran
  In such hard ways as must be this of thine,
  Deliverer whom we seek, whoe’er thou art,
  Pope, prince, or peasant!  If, indeed, the first,
  The noblest therefore! since the heroic heart
  Within thee must be great enough to burst
  Those trammels buckling to the baser part
  Thy saintly peers in Rome, who crossed and cursed
  With the same finger.”