"Glory to Man in the highest! For Man is the master of things"
About this Quote
Glory language is doing a sneaky job here: it borrows the cadence of Christian praise ("Glory... in the highest") and then pointedly swaps the object of worship. Not God. Man. Swinburne isn’t just being provocative for sport; he’s staging a coup in a single exclamation, using the sound of a hymn to smuggle in a manifesto of secular supremacy.
The line lands in the hot zone of Victorian confidence, when industrial power, imperial reach, and scientific prestige made human agency feel newly absolute. "Master of things" hums with that era’s faith in technique: nature becomes inventory, matter becomes tool, even fate starts to look negotiable. Swinburne’s punch is that he frames this as doxology - not argument. He doesn’t prove humanity’s dominion; he demands it be celebrated, as if reverence is the missing technology that will finalize the takeover.
The subtext is double-edged. On the surface, it’s humanist exhilaration: a refusal of inherited authority and a thrill at self-authorship. Underneath, the overstatement tips toward satire or at least self-aware excess. "Master of things" is grand enough to invite suspicion. Master of which things? The world’s material resources, certainly, but also the human impulses that keep sabotaging progress? That uncertainty is the crack Swinburne leaves open: a triumphal declaration that simultaneously advertises its own hubris. The line works because it feels like a victory chant and a warning siren in the same breath.
The line lands in the hot zone of Victorian confidence, when industrial power, imperial reach, and scientific prestige made human agency feel newly absolute. "Master of things" hums with that era’s faith in technique: nature becomes inventory, matter becomes tool, even fate starts to look negotiable. Swinburne’s punch is that he frames this as doxology - not argument. He doesn’t prove humanity’s dominion; he demands it be celebrated, as if reverence is the missing technology that will finalize the takeover.
The subtext is double-edged. On the surface, it’s humanist exhilaration: a refusal of inherited authority and a thrill at self-authorship. Underneath, the overstatement tips toward satire or at least self-aware excess. "Master of things" is grand enough to invite suspicion. Master of which things? The world’s material resources, certainly, but also the human impulses that keep sabotaging progress? That uncertainty is the crack Swinburne leaves open: a triumphal declaration that simultaneously advertises its own hubris. The line works because it feels like a victory chant and a warning siren in the same breath.
Quote Details
| Topic | Deep |
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