s second part of the
monologue has been construed by some readers into a genuine plea for the
theory and practice of "spiritualism." Nothing, however, could be more
opposed to the general tenour of Mr. Browning's work. He is simply
showing us what such a man might say in his own behalf, supposing that
the credulity of others had tempted him into a cheat, or that his own
credulity had made him a self-deceiver; or, what was equally possible,
in even the present case, that both processes had gone on at the same
time. The amount of abstract truth which the monologue is intended to
convey is in itself small, and more diluted with exaggeration and
falsehood than in any other poem of this group.

Sludge has been found cheating in the house of his principal patron and
dupe. The raps indicating the presence of a departed mother have been
distinctly traced to the medium's toes. There is no lying himself out of
it this time, so he offers to confess, on condition that the means of
leaving the country are secured to him. There is a little bargaining on
this subject, and he then begins:--

"He never meant to cheat. It is the gentlefolk who have teased him into
doing it; they _would_ be taken in. If a poor boy like him tells a lie
about money, or anything else in which they are 'up,' they are ready
enough to thrash it out of him; but when it is something out of their
way, like saying: he has had a vision--he has seen a ghost--it's 'Oh,
how curious! Tell us all about it. Sit down, my boy. Don't be
frightened, &c. &c.;' and so they lead him on. Presently he is obliged
to invent. They have found out he is a medium. A medium he has got to
be. 'Couldn't you hear this? Didn't you see that? Try again. Other
mediums have done it, perhaps you may.' And, of course, the next night
he sees and hears what is expected of him."

"He gets well into his work. He sees visions; peeps into the glass ball;
makes spirits write and rap, and the rest of it. There is nothing to
stop him. If he mixes up Bacon and Cromwell, it only proves that they
are both trying to speak through him at once. If he makes Locke talk
gibberish, and Beethoven play the Shakers' hymn, and a dozen other such
things: 'Oh! the spirits are using him and suiting themselves out of his
stock.' When he guesses right, it shows his truth. When he doesn't, it
shows his honesty. A hit is good and a miss is better. When he boggles
outright, 'he is confused with the phenomena.' And when this h