issue with sin in the world, that there is no way of attaining goodness except through conflict with evil, and that moral life, as the poet so frequently insists, is a process which converts all actual attainment into a dead self, from which we can rise to higher things—­a self, therefore, which is relatively evil—­would, and does, inspire morality.  It is the deification of evil not negated or overcome, of evil as it is in itself and apart from all process, which destroys morality.  And the same is equally true of a pantheistic optimism, which asserts that all things are good.  But it is not true of a Christian optimism, which asserts that all things are working together for good.  For such optimism implies that the process of negating or overcoming evil is essential to the attainment of goodness; it does not imply that evil, as evil, is ever good.  Evil is unreal, only in the sense that it cannot withstand the power which is set against it.  It is not mere semblance, a mere negation or absence of being; it is opposed to the good, and its opposition can be overcome, only by the moral effort which it calls forth.  An optimistic faith of this kind can find room for morality; and, indeed, it furnishes it with the religious basis it needs.  Browning, however, has confused these two forms of optimism; and, therefore, he has been driven to condemn knowledge, because he knew no alternative but that of either making evil eternally real, or making it absolutely unreal.  A third alternative, however, is supplied by the conception of moral evolution.  Knowledge of the conditions on which good can be attained—­a knowledge that amounts to conviction—­is the spring of all moral effort; whereas an attitude of permanent doubt as to the distinction between good and evil would paralyse it.  Such a doubt must be solved before man can act at all, or choose one end rather than another.  All action implies belief, and the ardour and vigour of moral action can only come from a belief which is whole-hearted.

The further assertion, which the poet makes in La Saisiaz, and repeats elsewhere, that sure knowledge of the consequences that follow good and evil actions would necessarily lead to the choice of good and the avoidance of evil, and destroy morality by destroying liberty of choice, raises the whole question of the relation of knowledge and conduct, and cannot be adequately discussed here.  It may be said, however, that it rests upon a confusion between two forms of necessity:  namely, natural and spiritual necessity.  In asserting that knowledge of the consequences of evil would determine human action in a necessary way, the poet virtually treats man as if he were a natural being.  But the assumption that man is responsible and liable to punishment, involves that he is capable of withstanding all such determination.  And knowledge does not and cannot lead to such necessary determination.  Reason brings freedom; for reason constitutes the ends of action.