Grove, who had formerly been for seven years in Browning’s service, the particulars as to how an ordinary day during the London season went by at Warwick Crescent.  Browning rose without fail at seven, enjoyed a plate of whatever fruit—­strawberries, grapes, oranges—­were in season; read, generally some piece of foreign literature, for an hour in his bedroom; then bathed; breakfasted—­a light meal of twenty minutes; sat by the fire and read his Times and Daily News till ten; from ten to one wrote in his study or meditated with head resting on his hand.  To write a letter was the reverse of a pleasure to him, yet he was diligent in replying to a multitude of correspondents.  His lunch, at one, was of the lightest kind, usually no more than a pudding.  Visits, private views of picture exhibitions and the like followed until half-past five.  At seven he dined, preferring Carlowitz or claret to other wines, and drinking little of any.  But on many days the dinner was not at home; once during three successive weeks he dined out without the omission of a day.  He returned home seldom at a later hour than half-past twelve; and at seven next morning the round began again.  During his elder years, says Mr Grove, he took little interest in politics.  He was not often a church-goer, but discussed religious matters earnestly with his clerical friends.  He loved not only animals but flowers, and when once a Virginia creeper entered the study window at Warwick Crescent, it was not expelled but trained inside the room.  To his servants he was a considerate friend rather than a master.

So far Mr Grove as reported in the Pall Mall Gazette (Dec 16, 1889).

Many persons have attempted to describe Browning as he appeared in society; there is a consensus of opinion as to the energy and cordiality of his way of social converse; but it is singular that, though some records of his out-pourings as a talker exist, very little is on record that possesses permanent value.  Perhaps the best word that can be quoted is that remembered by Sir James Paget—­Browning’s recommendation of Bach’s “Crucifixus—­et sepultus—­et resurrexit” as a cure for want of belief.  He did not fling such pointed shafts as those of Johnson which still hang and almost quiver where they struck.  His energy did not gather itself up into sentences but flowed—­and sometimes foamed—­in a tide.  Cordial as he was, he could be also vehemently intolerant, and sometimes perhaps where his acquaintance with the subject of his discourse was not sufficient to warrant a decided opinion.[121] He appeared, says his biographer, “more widely sympathetic in his works than in his life”; with no moral selfishness he was, adds Mrs Orr, intellectually self-centred; and unquestionably the statement is correct.  He could suffer fools, but not always gladly.  Speaking of earlier days in Italy, T.A.  Trollope observes that, while he was never rough or discourteous even to the most exasperating fool, “the men