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diff --git a/old/13018-8.txt b/old/13018-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5a3cef --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13018-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17172 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning +(1 of 2), by Frederic G. Kenyon + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1 of 2) + +Author: Frederic G. Kenyon + +Release Date: July 25, 2004 [EBook #13018] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROWNING LETTERS, VOL. 1 *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Jonathan Ingram, Bill Hershey and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: Elizabeth Barrett Browning] + + + + +THE LETTERS +OF +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING + + +EDITED WITH BIOGRAPHICAL ADDITIONS +BY +FREDERIC G. KENYON + +_WITH PORTRAITS_ + + +IN TWO VOLUMES + +VOLUME I. + +_THIRD EDITION_ + + +1898 + + + + +PREFACE + + +The writer of any narrative of Mrs. Browning's life, or the editor of +a collection of her letters, is met at the outset of his task by the +knowledge that both Mrs. Browning herself and her husband more than, +once expressed their strong dislike of any such publicity in regard to +matters of a personal and private character affecting themselves. The +fact that expressions to this effect are publicly extant is one which +has to be faced or evaded; but if it could not be fairly faced, and +the apparent difficulty removed, the present volumes would never +have seen the light. It would be a poor qualification for the task of +preparing a record of Mrs. Browning's life, to be willing therein to +do violence to her own expressed wishes and those of her husband. But +the expressions to which reference has been made are limited, either +formally or by implication, to publications made during their own +lifetime. They shrank, as any sensitive person must shrink, from +seeing their private lives, their personal characteristics, above +all, their sorrows and bereavements, offered to the inspection and +criticism of the general public; and it was to such publications that +their protests referred. They could not but be aware that the details +of their lives would be of interest to the public which read and +admired their works, and there is evidence that they recognised that +the public has some claims with regard to writers who have appealed +to, and partly lived by, its favour. They only claimed that during +their own lifetime their feelings should be consulted first; when they +should have passed away, the rights of the public would begin. + +It is in this spirit that the following collection of Mrs. Browning's +letters has now been prepared, in the conviction that the lovers of +English literature will be glad to make a closer and more intimate +acquaintance with one--or, it may truthfully be said, with two--of +the most interesting literary characters of the Victorian age. It is a +selection from a large mass of letters, written at all periods in Mrs. +Browning's life, which Mr. Browning, after his wife's death, reclaimed +from the friends to whom they had been written, or from their +representatives. No doubt, Mr. Browning's primary object was to +prevent publications which would have been excessively distressing +to his feelings; but the letters, when once thus collected, were +not destroyed (as was the case with many of his own letters), but +carefully preserved, and so passed into the possession of his son, +Mr. R. Barrett Browning, with whose consent they are now published. In +this collection are comprised the letters to Miss Browning (the poet's +sister, whose consent has also been freely given to the publication), +Mr. H.S. Boyd, Mrs. Martin, Miss Mitford, Mrs. Jameson, Mr. John +Kenyon, Mr. Chorley, Miss Blagden, Miss Haworth, and Miss Thomson +(Madame Emil Braun).[1] To these have been added a number of letters +which have been kindly lent by their possessors for the purpose of the +present volumes. + +[Footnote 1: Mrs. Sutherland-Orr had access to these letters for her +biography of Robert Browning, and quotes several passages from +them. With this exception, none of the letters have been published +previously; and the published letters of Miss Barrett to Mr. R.H. +Horne have not been drawn upon, except for biographical information.] + + +The duties of the editor have been mainly those of selection and +arrangement. With regard to the former task one word is necessary. It +may be thought that the almost entire absence of bitterness (except on +certain political topics), of controversy, of personal ill feeling +of any kind, is due to editorial excisions. This is not the case. +The number of passages that have been removed for fear of hurting the +feelings of persons still living is almost infinitesimal; and in +these the cause of offence is always something inherent in the facts +recorded, not in the spirit in which they are mentioned. No person had +less animosity than Mrs. Browning; it seems as though she could hardly +bring herself to speak harshly of anyone. The omissions that have been +made are almost wholly of passages containing little or nothing of +interest, or repetitions of what has been said elsewhere; and +they have been made with the object of diminishing the bulk and +concentrating the interest of the collection, never with the purpose +of modifying the representation of the writer's character. + +The task of arranging the letters has been more arduous owing to Mrs. +Browning's unfortunate habit of prefixing no date's, or incomplete +ones, to her letters. Many of them are dated merely by the day of the +week or month, and can only be assigned to their proper place in the +series on internal evidence. In some cases, however, the envelopes +have been preserved, and the date is then often provided by the +postmarks. These supply fixed points by which the others can be +tested; and ultimately all have fallen into line in chronological +order, and with at least approximate dates to each letter. + +The correspondence, thus arranged in chronological order, forms an +almost continuous record of Mrs. Browning's life, from the early +days in Herefordshire to her death in Italy in 1861; but in order to +complete the record, it has been thought well to add connecting links +of narrative, which should serve to bind the whole together into the +unity of a biography. It is a chronicle, rather than a biography in +the artistic sense of the term; a chronicle of the events of a life in +which there were but few external events of importance, and in which +the subject of the picture is, for the most part, left to paint her +own portrait, and that, moreover, unconsciously. Still, this is a +method which may be held to have its advantages, in that it can hardly +be affected by the feelings or prejudices of the biographer; and if +it does not present a finished portrait to the reader, it provides him +with the materials from which he can form a portrait for himself. The +external events are placed upon record, either in the letters or in +the connecting links of narrative; the character and opinions of Mrs. +Browning reveal themselves in her correspondence; and her genius is +enshrined in her poetry. And these three elements make up all that may +be known of her personality, all with which a biographer has to deal. + +It is essentially her character, not her genius, that is presented +to the reader of these letters. There are some letter-writers whose +genius is so closely allied with their daily life that it shines +through into their familiar correspondence with their friends, and +their letters become literature. Such, in their very different ways, +with very different types of genius and very different habits of daily +life, are Gray, Cowper, Lamb, perhaps Fitzgerald. But letter-writers +such as these are few. More often the correspondence of men and women +of letters is valuable for the light it throws upon the character and +opinions of those whose character and opinions we are led to regard +with admiration or respect, or at least interest, on account of their +other writings. In these cases it may be held that the publication +is justifiable or not, according as the character which it reveals is +affected favourably or the reverse. Not all truth, even about famous +men, is useful for publication, but only such as enables us to +appreciate better the works which have made them famous. Their highest +selves are expressed in their literary work; and it is a poor service +to truth to insist on bringing to light the fact that they also had +lower selves--common, dull, it may be vicious. What illustrates their +genius and enhances our respect for their character, may rightly be +made known; but what shakes our belief and mars our enjoyment in them, +is simply better left in obscurity. + +With regard to Mrs. Browning, however, there is no room for doubt +upon these points. These letters, familiarly written to her private +friends, without the smallest idea of publication, treating of the +thoughts that came uppermost in the ordinary language of conversation, +can lay no claim to make a new revelation of her genius. On the other +hand, perhaps because the circumstances of Mrs. Browning's life +cut her off to an unusual extent from personal intercourse with her +friends, and threw her back upon letter-writing as her principal means +of communication with them, they contain an unusually full revelation +of her character. And this is not wholly unconnected with her literary +genius, since her personal convictions, her moral character, entered +more fully than is often the case into the composition of her poetry. +Her best poetry is that which is most full of her personal emotions. +The 'Sonnets from the Portuguese,' the 'Cry of the Children,' +'Cowper's Grave,' the 'Dead Pan,' 'Aurora Leigh,' and all the Italian +poems, owe their value to the pure and earnest character, the strong +love of truth and right, the enthusiasm on behalf of what is oppressed +and the indignation against all kinds of oppression and wrong, which +were prominent elements in a personality of exceptional worth and +beauty. + +An editor can generally serve his readers best by remaining in the +background; but he is allowed one moment for the expression of his +personal feelings, when he thanks those who have assisted him in his +work. In the present case there are many to whom it is a pleasure to +offer such thanks. In the first place, I have to thank Mr. R. Barrett +Browning and Miss Browning most cordially for having accepted the +proposal of the publishers (Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co., to whom +likewise my gratitude is due) to put so pleasant and congenial a +task into my hands. Mr. Browning has also contributed a number of +suggestions and corrections while the sheets have been passing through +the press. I have also to thank those who have been kind enough to +offer letters in their possession for inclusion in these volumes: Lady +Alwyne Compton for the letters to Mr. Westwood; Mrs. Arthur Severn +for the letters to Mr. Ruskin; Mr. G.L. Craik for the letters to Miss +Mulock; Mrs. Commeline for the letters to Miss Commeline; Mr. T.J. +Wise for the letters to Mr. Cornelius Mathews; Mr. C. Aldrich for +the letter to Mrs. Kinney; Col. T.W. Higginson for a letter to Miss +Channing; and the Rev. G. Bainton for a letter to Mr. Kenyon. It +has not been possible to print all the letters which have been thus +offered; but this does not diminish the kindness of the lenders, nor +the gratitude of the editor. + +Finally, I should wish to offer my sincere thanks to Lady Edmond +Fitzmaurice for much assistance and advice in the selection and +revision of the letters; a labour which her friendship with Mr. +Browning towards the close of his life has prompted her to bestow most +freely and fully upon this memorial of his wife. + +F.G.K. + +_July 1897_. + + + + +CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME + + +CHAPTER I +1806-1835 + +Birth--Hope End--Early Poems--Sidmouth--'Prometheus' + + +CHAPTER II +1835-1841 + +London--Magazine Poems--'The Seraphim and other Poems'--Torquay--Death +of Edward Barrett--Return to London + + +CHAPTER III +1841-1843 + +Wimpole Street--'The Greek Christian Poets'--'The English +Poets'--'The New Spirit of the Age'--Miscellaneous Letters + + + + +CHAPTER IV +1844-1846 + +The 'Poems' of 1844--Miss Martineau and Mesmerism--Pro-posed +Journey to Italy + +CHAPTER V +1846-1849 + +Friendship with Robert Browning--Love and Marriage--Paris +and Pisa--Florence--Vallombrosa--Casa Guidi--Italian Politics +in 1848 + +CHAPTER VI +1849-1851 + +Birth of a Son--Death of Mrs. Browning, senior--Bagni di +Lucca--New Edition of Poems--Siena--Florentine Life + +PORTRAIT OF ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. _Frontispiece_ CASA GUIDI + + + + +THE LETTERS +OF +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING + + + +CHAPTER I + +1806-1835 + + +Elizabeth Barrett Barrett, still better known to the world as +Elizabeth Barrett Browning, was born on March 6, 1806, the eldest +child of Edward and Mary Moulton Barrett. I Both the date and place +of her birth have been matters of uncertainty and dispute, and even so +trustworthy an authority as the 'Dictionary of National Biography' is +inaccurate with respect to them. All doubt has, however, been set at +rest by the discovery of the entry of her birth in the parish register +of Kelloe Church, in the county of Durham.[2] She was born at Coxhoe +Hall, the residence of Mr. Barrett's only brother, Samuel, about +five miles south of the city of Durham. Her father, whose name was +originally Edward Barrett Moulton, had assumed the additional surname +of Barrett on the death of his maternal grandfather, to whose estates +in Jamaica he was the heir. Of Mr. Barrett it is recorded by Mr. +Browning, in the notes prefixed by him to the collected edition of his +wife's poems, that 'on the early death of his father he was brought +from Jamaica to England when a very young child, as a ward of the +late Chief Baron Lord Abinger, then Mr. Scarlett, whom he frequently +accompanied in his post-chaise when on circuit. He was sent to Harrow, +but received there so savage a punishment for a supposed offence +(burning the toast)'--which, indeed, has been a 'supposed offence' at +other schools than Harrow--'by the youth whose fag he had become, that +he was withdrawn from the school by his mother, and the delinquent +was expelled. At the age of sixteen he was sent by Mr. Scarlett to +Cambridge, and thence, for an early marriage, went to Northumberland.' +His wife was Miss Mary Graham-Clarke, daughter of J. Graham-Clarke, +of Fenham Hall, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, but of her nothing seems to be +known, and her comparatively early death causes her to be little heard +of in the record of her daughter's life. + +[Footnote 2: See _Notes and Queries_ for July 20, 1889, supplemented +by a note from Mr. Browning himself in the same paper on August 24.] + +Nothing is to be gained by trying to trace back the genealogy of the +Barrett family, and it need merely be noted that it had been +connected for some generations with the island of Jamaica, and owned +considerable estates there.[3] It is a curious coincidence that Robert +Browning was likewise in part of West Indian descent, and so, too, was +John Kenyon, the lifelong friend of both, by whose means the poet and +poetess were first introduced to one another. + +[Footnote 3: These estates still remain in the family, and Mr. Charles +Barrett, the eldest surviving brother of Mrs. Browning, now lives +there.] + +The family of Mr. Edward Barrett was a fairly large one, consisting, +besides Elizabeth, of two daughters, Henrietta and Arabel, and eight +sons--Edward, whose tragic death at Torquay saddened so much of his +sister's life, Charles (the 'Stormie' of the letters), Samuel, George, +Henry, Alfred, Septimus, and Octavius; Mr. Barrett's inventiveness +having apparently given out with the last two members of his family, +reducing him to the primitive method of simple enumeration, an +enumeration in which, it may be observed, the daughters counted for +nothing. Not many of these, however, can have been born at Coxhoe; for +while Elizabeth was still an infant--apparently about the beginning +of the year 1809--Mr. Barrett removed to his newly purchased estate +of Hope End, in Herefordshire, among the Malvern hills, and only a few +miles from Malvern itself. It is to Hope End that the admirers of Mrs. +Browning must look as the real home of her childhood and youth. Here +she spent her first twenty years of conscious life. Here is the scene +of the childish reminiscences which are to be found among her earlier +poems, of 'Hector in the Garden,' 'The Lost Bower,' and 'The Deserted +Garden.' And here too her earliest verses were written, and the +foundations laid of that omnivorous reading of literature of all sorts +and kinds, which was so strong a characteristic of her tastes and +leanings. + +On this subject she may be left to tell her own tale. In a letter +written on October 5, 1843, to Mr. R.H. Horne, she furnishes him with +the following biographical details for his study of her in 'The New +Spirit of the Age.' They supply us with nearly all that we know of her +early life and writings. + +'And then as to stories, my story amounts to the knife-grinder's, with +nothing at all for a catastrophe. A bird in a cage would have as good +a story, Most of my events, and nearly all my intense pleasures, have +passed in my _thoughts_. I wrote verses--as I dare say many have done +who never wrote any poems--very early; at eight years old and earlier. +But, what is less common, the early fancy turned into a will, and +remained with me, and from that day to this, poetry has been a +distinct object with me--an object to read, think, and live for. And I +could make you laugh, although you could not make the public laugh, +by the narrative of nascent odes, epics, and didactics crying aloud on +obsolete muses from childish lips. The Greeks were my demi-gods, and +haunted me out of Pope's Homer, until I dreamt more of Agamemnon than +of Moses the black pony. And thus my great "epic" of eleven or twelve +years old, in four books, and called "The Battle of Marathon," and of +which fifty copies were printed because papa was bent upon spoiling +me--is Pope's Homer done over again, or rather undone; for, although a +curious production for a child, it gives evidence only of an +imitative faculty and an ear, and a good deal of reading in a peculiar +direction. The love of Pope's Homer threw me into Pope on one side and +into Greek on the other, and into Latin as a help to Greek--and the +influence of all these tendencies is manifest so long afterwards as +in my "Essay on Mind," a didactic poem written when I was seventeen or +eighteen, and long repented of as worthy of all repentance. The poem +is imitative in its form, yet is not without traces of an individual +thinking and feeling--the bird pecks through the shell in it. With +this it has a pertness and pedantry which did not even then belong to +the character of the author, and which I regret now more than I do the +literary defectiveness. + +'All this time, and indeed the greater part of my life, we lived at +Hope End, a few miles from Malvern, in a retirement scarcely broken to +me except by books and my own thoughts, and it is a beautiful country, +and was a retirement happy in many ways, although the very peace of it +troubles the heart as it looks back. There I had my fits of Pope, and +Byron, and Coleridge, and read Greek as hard under the trees as some +of your Oxonians in the Bodleian; gathered visions from Plato and the +dramatists, and eat and drank Greek and made my head ache with it. Do +you know the Malvern Hills? The hills of Piers Plowman's Visions? They +seem to me my native hills; for, although I was born in the county of +Durham, I was an infant when I went first into their neighbourhood, +and lived there until I had passed twenty by several years. Beautiful, +beautiful hills they are! And yet, not for the whole world's beauty +would I stand in the sunshine and the shadow of them any more. It +would be a mockery, like the taking back of a broken flower to its +stalk.'[4] + +[Footnote 4: R.H. Horne, _Letters of E.B. Browning_, i. 158-161.] + +So, while the young Robert Browning was enthusiastically declaiming +passages of Pope's Homer, and measuring out heroic couplets with +his hand round the dining table in Camberwell, Elizabeth Barrett was +drinking from the same fount of inspiration among the Malvern Hills, +and was already turning it to account in the production of her first +epic. The fifty copies of the 'Battle of Marathon,' which Mr. Barrett, +proud of his daughter's precocity, insisted on having printed, bear +the date of 1819. Only five of them are now known to exist, and these +are all in private hands; even the British Museum possesses only the +reprint which the hero-worship of the present generation caused to be +produced in 1891. Seven years later, when she had just reached the +age of twenty, her first volume of verse was offered to the world +in general. It was entitled 'An Essay on Mind, and other Poems,' and +included, besides the didactic poem after the manner of Pope which +formed the _pièce de rèsistance_, a number of shorter pieces, several +of which, as she informed Horne,[5] had been written when she was not +more than thirteen. + +[Footnote 5: R.H. Horne, _Letters of E.B. Browning_, i. 164.] + +It was during the years at Hope End that Elizabeth Barrett was +first attacked by serious illness. 'At fifteen,' she says in her +autobiographical letter, already quoted in part, 'I nearly died;' and +this may be connected with a statement by Mrs. Richmond Ritchie, to +the effect that 'one day, when Elizabeth was about fifteen, the young +girl, impatient for her ride, tried to saddle her pony alone, in a +field, and fell with the saddle upon her, in some way injuring her +spine so seriously that she was for years upon her back.'[6] The +latter part of this statement cannot indeed be quite accurate; for +her period of long confinement to a sick-room was of later date, and +began, according to her own statement, from a different cause. Mr. +R. Barrett Browning states that the injury to the spine was not +discovered for some time, but was afterwards attributed, not to a +fall, but to a strain whilst tightening her pony's girths. No doubt +this injury contributed towards the general weakness of health to +which she was always subject. + +[Footnote 6: _Dict. of Nat. Biography_, vii. 78.] + +Of her earliest letters, belonging to the Hope End period, very few +have been preserved, and most of those which remain are of little +interest. The first to be printed here belongs to the period of her +mother's last illness, which ended in her death on October 1, 1828. It +is addressed to Mrs. James Martin, a lifelong friend, whose name will +appear frequently in these pages. At the time when it was written she +was living near Tewkesbury, within visiting distance of the Barretts. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Hope End: Thursday, [about September 1828]. + +My dear Mrs. Martin,--I am happy to be able to tell you that Mr. +Garden was here two days ago, and that he has not thought it necessary +to adopt any violent measure with regard to our beloved invalid. +He seems entirely to rely, for her ultimate restoration, upon a +discipline as to diet, and a course of strengthening medicine. This +is most satisfactory to us; and her spirits have been soothed and +tranquillised by his visit. She has slept quietly for the last few +nights, and reports herself to be _brisker_ and stronger, and to +be comparatively free from pain. This account is, perhaps, too +favorable,[7] and will appear so to you when you see her, as I am +afraid you will, not looking much better, _much_ more cheerful, than +when you paid us your last visit. But when we are very _willing_ to +hope, we are apt to be too _ready_ to hope: though really, without +being _too_ sanguine, we may consider quiet nights and diminished pain +to be satisfactory signs of amendment. I know you will be glad to hear +of them, and I hope you will _witness_ them very soon, in spite of +this repulsive snow. It will do mama good, and I am sure it will give +us all pleasure, to benefit by some of your charitable pilgrimages +over the hill. + +With our best regards, and sincerest thanks for your kind interest + +Believe me, dear Mrs. Martin, most truly yours, + +E.B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 7: Mrs. Browning usually spells such words as 'favour,' +'honour,' and the like, without the _u_, after the fashion which one +is accustomed to regard as American.] + + + +_To Miss Commeline_ +Hope End: Monday, [October 1828]. + +My dear Miss Commeline,--Thank you for the sympathy and interest +which you have extended towards us in our heavy affliction. Even _you_ +cannot know _all_ that we have lost; but God knows, and it has pleased +Him to take away the blessing that He gave. And all _must_ be right +since He doeth all! Indeed we did not foresee this great grief! If we +had we could not have felt it less; but I should not then have been +denied the consolation of being with her at the last. + +It is idle to speak now of such thoughts, and circumstances have +unquestionably been rightly and mercifully ordered. We are all well +and composed--poor papa supporting us by his own surpassing fortitude. +It is an inexpressible comfort to me to witness his calmness. + +I cannot say that we shall not be glad to see you, but the weather is +dreary and the distance long: and if you were to come, we might not be +able to meet you and to speak to you with calmness. In that case you +would receive a melancholy impression which I should like to spare +you. Perhaps it would be better for you and less selfish in us, if +we were to defer this meeting a little while longer--but do what you +prefer doing! I can never forget the regard and esteem entertained for +you by one whose tenderness and watchfulness I have felt every day +and hour since she gave me that life which her loss embitters--whose +memory is more precious to me than any earthly blessing left behind; I +have written what is ungrateful, and what I ought not to have written, +and what I ought not to feel, and do not always feel, but I did not +just then remember that I had so much left to love. + + +_To Mrs. Boyd_ +Hope End: Saturday morning, [1828-1832]. + +My dear Mrs. Boyd,--You were quite wrong in supposing that papa was +likely to complain about 'the number of letters from Malvern;' and as +to my doing so, why did you suggest that? To fill up a sentence, or +to conjure up some kind of limping excuse for idle people? Among +idle people, perhaps you have written _me_ down. But the reason of +my silence was far more reasonable than yours. I have been engaged in +alternately wishing in earnest and wishing in vain for the power of +saying when I could go to Malvern--and in being unwell besides. For +the last week I have not been at all well, and indeed was obliged +yesterday to go to bed after breakfast instead of after tea, where +I contrived to abstract myself out of a good deal of pain into Lord +Byron's Life by Moore. To-day this abstraction is not necessary; I am +much better; and, indeed, little remains of the indisposition but +the _vulgar fractions_ of a cough and cold. I dare say (and Occyta[8] +agrees with me) cold was at the bottom of it all, for I was so very +wise as to lie down upon the grass last Monday, when the sun was +shining deceitfully, though the snow was staring at me from the +hedges, with an expression anything but dog-daysical! + +Henrietta's face-ache is quite well, and I don't mean to give any more +bulletins to-day. I hope your 'tolerably well' is turned into 'quite +well' too by this time. + +In reply to your query, I will mention that _the existence_ actually +extended until Thursday without the visit here--a phenomenon in +physics and metaphysics. I was desired by a note a short time +previously, 'to embrace all my circle with the utmost tenderness,' +_as proxy_. Considering the extent of the said circle, this was a very +comprehensive request, and a very unreasonable one to offer to anyone +less than the hundred-armed Indian god Baly. I am glad that +your alternative of a house is so near to the right side of the +turnpike--in which case, a _miss_ is certainly not as _bad_ as +a _mile_. May Place is to be vacated in May, though its present +inhabitants do not leave Malvern. I mention this to you, but pray +don't _re-mention_ it to anybody. The rent is 15£. Mr. Boyd[9] will +not be angry with me for not going to see him sooner than I can. At +least, I am sure he ought not. Though you are all kind enough to wish +me to go, I always think and know (which is consolatory to everything +but my vanity) that no one can wish it half as much as I myself do. + +Believe me, dear Mrs. Boyd, affectionately yours, + +E.B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 8: Octavius, her youngest brother.] + +[Footnote 9: Hugh Stuart Boyd, the blind scholar whose friendship with +Elizabeth Barrett is commemorated in her poem, 'Wine of Cyprus,' +and in three sonnets expressly addressed to him. He was at this time +living at Great Malvern, where Miss Barrett frequently visited him, +reading and discussing Greek literature with him, especially the works +of the Greek Christian Fathers. But to call him her tutor, as has more +than once been done, is a mistake: see Miss Barrett's letter to; him +of March 3, 1845. Her knowledge of Greek was due to her volunteering +to share her brother Edward's work under his tutor, Mr. MacSwiney.] + + +The fear 1832 brought a great change in the fortunes of the Barrett +family, and may be said to mark the end of the purely formative period +in Elizabeth Barrett's life. Hitherto she had been living in the home +and among the surroundings of her childhood, absorbing literature +rather than producing it; or if producing it, still mainly for her own +amusement and instruction, rather than with any view of appealing to +the general public. But in 1832 this home was broken up by the sale, +of Hope End,[10] and with the removal thence we seem to find +her embarking definitely on literature as the avowed pursuit and +occupation of her life. Sidmouth in Devonshire was the place to which +the Barrett family now removed, and the letters begin henceforth to be +longer and more frequent, and to tell a more connected tale. + +[Footnote 10: Mr. Ingram, in his _Life of E.B. Browning_ ('Eminent +Women' Series) connects this fact with the abolition of colonial +slavery, and a consequent decrease in Mr. Barrett's income; but since +the abolition only took place in 1833, while Hope End was given up in +the preceding year, this conclusion does not appear to be certain.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +[Sidmouth: September 1832.] + +How can I thank you enough, dearest Mrs. Martin, for your letter? +How kind of you to write so soon and so very kindly! The postmark and +handwriting were in themselves pleasant sights to me, and the kindness +yet more welcome. Believe that I am grateful to you for _all_ your +kindness--for your kindness now, and your kindness in the days which +are past. Some of those past days were very happy, and some of them +very sorrowful--more sorrowful than even our last days at dear, dear +Hope End. _Then_, I well recollect, though I could not then thank you +as I ought, how you _felt for_ us and _with_ us. Do not think I can +ever forget _that time_, or _you_. I had written a note to you, which +the bearer of Bummy's and Arabel's to Colwall[11] omitted to take. +Afterwards I thought it best to spare you any more farewells, which +are upon human lips, of all words, the most natural, and of all the +most painful. + +They told us of our having past your carriage in Ledbury. Dear +Mrs. Martin, I cannot dwell upon the pain of that first hour of our +journey; but you will know what it must have been. The dread of it, +for some hours before, was almost worse; but it is all over now, +blessed be God. Before the first day's journey was at end, we felt +inexpressibly relieved--relieved from the restlessness and anxiety +which have so long oppressed us--and now we are calmer and happier +than we have been for very long. If we could only have papa and Bro +and Sette[12] with us! About half an hour before we set off, papa +found out that he _could not_ part with Sette, who sleeps with +him, and is always an amusing companion to him. Papa was, however, +unwilling to separate him perforce from his little playfellows, and +asked him whether he wished very much to go. Sette's heart was quite +full, but he answered immediately, 'Oh, no, papa, I would _much_ +rather stay with _you_.' He is a dear affectionate little thing. He +and Bro being with poor Papa, we are far more comfortable about him +than we should otherwise be--and perhaps our going was his sharpest +pang. I hope it was, as it is over. Do not think, dear Mrs. Martin, +that you or Mr. Martin can ever 'intrude'--you know you use that +word in your letter. I have often been afraid, on account of papa not +having been for so long a time at Colwall, lest you should fancy that +he did not value your society and your kindness. Do not fancy it. +Painful circumstances produce--as we have often had occasion to +observe--different effects upon different minds; and some feeling, +with which I certainly have no sympathy has made papa shrink from +society of any kind lately. He would not even attend the religious +societies in Ledbury, which he was so much pledged to support, and so +interested in supporting. If you knew how much he has talked of you, +and asked every particular about you, you could not fancy that his +regard for you was estranged. He has an extraordinary degree of +strength of mind on most points--and strong feeling, when it is not +allowed to run in the natural channel, will sometimes force its way +where it is not expected. You will think it strange; but never up to +this moment has he even alluded to the subject, before _us_--never, at +the moment of parting with us. And yet, though he had not power to say +_one word_, he could play at cricket with the boys on the very last +evening. + +We slept at the York House in Bath. Bath is a beautiful town _as +a town_, and the country harmonises well with it, without being a +beautiful country. As _mere country_, nobody would stand still to look +at it; though as town country, many bodies would. Somersetshire in +general seems to be hideous, and I could fancy from the walls which +intersect it in every direction, that they had been turned to stone +by looking at the _Gorgonic_ scenery. The part of Devonshire through +which our journey lay is nothing _very_ pretty, though it must be +allowed to be beautiful after Somersetshire. We arrived here almost +in the dark, and were besieged by the crowd of disinterested +tradespeople, who _would_ attend us through the town to our house, to +help to unload the carriages. This was not a particularly agreeable +reception in spite of its cordiality; and the circumstance of there +being not a human being in our house, and not even a rushlight +burning, did not reassure us. People were tired of expecting us every +day for three weeks. Nearly the whole way from Honiton to this place +is a descent. Poor dear Bummy said she thought we were going into +the _bowels of the earth_, but suspect she thought we were going +much deeper. Between you and me, she does not seem _delighted_ with +Sidmouth; but her spirits are a great deal better, and in time she +will, I dare say, be better pleased. _We_ like very much what we have +seen of it. The town is small and not superfluously clean, but, of +course, the respectable houses are not a part of the town. Ours is one +which the Grand Duchess Helena had, not at all _grand_, but extremely +comfortable and cheerful, with a splendid sea view in front, and +pleasant green, hills and trees behind. The drawing-room's four +windows all look to the sea, and I am never tired of looking out of +them. I was doing so, with a most hypocritical book before me, when +your letter arrived, and I _felt_ all that you said in it. I always +thought that the sea was the sublimest object in nature. Mont +Blanc--Niagara must be nothing to it. _There_, the Almighty's form +glasses itself in tempests--and not only in tempests, but in calm--in +space, in eternal motion, in eternal regularity. How can we look at +it, and consider our puny sorrows, and not say, 'We are dumb--because +_Thou_ didst it'? Indeed, dear Mrs. Martin, we must feel every hour, +and we shall feel every year, that what He did is _well done_--and not +only well, but mercifully. + +Mr. and Mrs. H----, with whom papa is slightly acquainted, have +called upon us, and shown us many kind attentions. They are West India +people, not very polished, but certainly _very_ good-natured. We hear +that the place is extremely full and gay; but this is, of course, only +an _on dit_ to us at present. I have been riding a donkey two or three +times, and enjoy very much going to the edge of the sea. The air has +made me sleep more soundly than I have done for some time, and I dare +say it will do me a great deal of good in every way. + +You may suppose what a southern climate this is, when I tell you that +myrtles and verbena, three or four feet high, and hydrangeas are in +flower in the gardens--even in ours, which is about a hundred and +fifty yards from the sea. I have written to the end of my paper. Give +our kindest regards to Mr. Martin, and ever believe me, + +Your affectionate and grateful +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 11: The Martins' home near Malvern, about a mile from Hope +End.] + +[Footnote 12: Her brothers Edward and Septimus.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +[Sidmouth:] Wednesday, September 27, 1832 [postmark]. + +How very kind of you, dearest Mrs. Martin, to write to me so much at +length and at such a time. Indeed, it was exactly the time when, if +we were where we have been, we should have wished you to walk over +the hill and talk to us; and although, after all that the most zealous +friends of letter writing can say for it, it is _not_ such a happy +thing as talking with those you care for, yet it is the next happiest +thing. I am sure I thought so when I read your letter ... + +And now I must tell you about ourselves. Papa and Bro and Sette have +made us so much happier by coming, and we have the comfort of seeing +dear papa in good spirits, and not only satisfied but pleased with +this place. It is scarcely possible, at least it seems so to me, to do +otherwise than admire the beauty of the country. It is the very land +of green lanes and pretty thatched cottages. I don't mean the kind of +cottages which are generally thatched, with pigstyes and cabbages and +dirty children, but thatched cottages with verandas and shrubberies, +and sounds from the harp or piano coming through the windows. When +you stand upon any of the hills which stand round Sidmouth, the whole +valley seems to be thickly wooded down to the very verge of the sea, +and these pretty villas to be springing from the ground almost as +thickly and quite as naturally as the trees themselves. There are +certainly many more houses out of the town than in it, and they all +stand apart, yet near, hiding in their own shrubberies, or behind the +green rows of elms which wall in the secluded lanes on either side. +Such a number of green lanes I never saw; some of them quite black +with foliage, where it is twilight in the middle of the day, and +others letting in beautiful glimpses of the spreading heathy hills +or of the sunny sea. I am sure you would like the transition from the +cliffs, from the bird's eye view to, I was going to say, the mole's +eye view, but I believe moles don't see quite clearly enough to suit +my purpose. There are a great number of people here. Sam was at an +evening party a week ago where there were a hundred and twenty people; +but they don't walk about the parade and show themselves as one might +expect. _We_ know only the Herrings and Mrs. and the Miss Polands +and Sir John Kean. Mrs. and Miss Weekes, and Mr. and Mrs. James have +called upon us, but we were out when they came. I suppose it will be +necessary to return their visits and to know them; and when we do, +you shall hear about them, and about everybody whom we know. I +am certainly much better in health, stronger than I was, and less +troubled with the cough. Every day I attend [_word torn out_] +their walks on my donkey, if we do not go in a boat, which is still +pleasanter. I believe Henrietta walks out about _three_ times a day. +She is looking particularly well, and often talks, and I am sure still +oftener thinks, of you. You know how fond of you she is. Papa walks +out with her--and _us_; and we all, down to + +Occyta, breakfast and drink tea together. The dining takes place at +five o'clock. To-morrow, if this lovely weather will stand still and +be accommodating, we talk of rowing to Dawlish, which is about ten +miles off. We have had a few cases of cholera, at least _suspicious_ +cases: one a fortnight before we arrived, and five since, in +the course of a month. All dead except one. I confess a little +nervousness; but it is wearing away. The disease does not seem to make +any progress; and for the last six days there have been no patients at +all. + +Do let us hear very soon, my dear Mrs. Martin, how you are--how your +spirits are, and whether Rome is still in your distance. Surely no +plan could be more delightful for you than this plan; and if you don't +stay _very_ long away, I shall be sorry to hear of your abandoning it. +Do you recollect your promise of coming to see us? _We_ do. + +You must have had quite enough now of my 'little hand' and of my +details. Do not go to Matton or to the Bartons or to Eastnor without +giving my love. How often my thoughts are at _home_! I cannot help +calling it so still in my thoughts. I may like other places, but no +other place can ever appear to me to deserve that name. + +Dearest Mrs. Martin's affectionate +E.B. BARRETT. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Sidmouth: December 14, 1832. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I hope you are very angry indeed with us for +not writing. We are as penitent as we ought to be--that is, I am, +for I believe I am the idle person; yet not altogether idle, but +procrastinating and waiting for news rather more worthy of being read +in Rome than any which even now I can send you.... And now, my dear +Mrs. Martin, I mean to thank you, as I ought to have done long ago, +for your kindness in offering to procure for me the _Archbishop of +Dublin's_[13] valuable opinion upon my 'Prometheus. I am sure that if +you have not thought me very ungrateful, you must be very indulgent. +My mind was at one time so crowded by painful thoughts, that they shut +out many others which are interesting to me; and among other things, I +forgot once or twice, when I had an opportunity, to thank _you_, dear +Mrs. Martin. I believe I should have taken advantage of your proposal, +but papa said to me, 'If he criticises your manuscript in a manner +which does not satisfy you, you won't be easy without defending +yourself, and he might be drawn into taking more trouble than you +have now any idea of giving him.' I sighed a little at losing such an +opportunity of gaining a great advantage, but there seemed to be some +reason in what papa said I have completed a preface and notes to my +translation; and since doing so, a work of exactly the same character +by a Mr. Medwin has been published, and commended in Bulwer's +magazine.[14] Therefore it is probable enough that my trouble, +excepting as far as my own amusement went, has been in vain. But papa +means to try Mr. Valpy, I believe. He left us since I began to write +this letter, with a promise of returning before Christmas Day. We +_do_ miss him. Mr. Boyd has made me quite angry by publishing his +translations by rotation in numbers of the 'Wesleyan Magazine,' +instead of making them up into a separate publication, as I had +persuaded him to do. There is the effect, you see, of going, even for +a time, out of my reach! The readers of the 'Wesleyan Magazine' are +pious people, but not cultivated, nor, for the most part, capable of +estimating either the talents of Gregory or his translator's. I have +begun already to _insist_ upon another publication in a separate form, +and shall gain my point, I dare say. I have been reading Bulwer's +novels and Mrs. Trollope's libels, and Dr. Parr's works. I am sure +_you_ are not an admirer of Mrs. Trollope's. She has neither the +delicacy nor the candour which constitute true nobility of mind and +her extent of talent forms but a scanty veil to shadow her other +defects. Bulwer has quite delighted me. He has all the dramatic talent +which Scott has, and all the passion which Scott has not, and +he appears to me to be besides a far profounder discriminator of +character. There are very fine things in his 'Denounced.' We subscribe +to the best library here, but the best is not a good one. I have, +however, a table-load of my own books, and with them I can always be +satisfied. Do you know that Mr. Curzon has left Ledbury? We were glad +to receive your letter from Dover although it told us that you were +removing so far from us. Do let us hear of your enjoying Italy. Is +there much English society in Rome, and is it like English society +here? I can scarcely fancy an invitation card, 'Mrs. Huggin-muggin at +home,' carried through the _Via Sacra_. I am sure my 'little hand' has +done its duty to-day. I shall leave the corners to Henrietta. Give +our kindest regards to Mr. Martin, and ever believe me, my dear Mrs. +Martin, + +Your affectionate +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 13: Archbishop Whately.] + +[Footnote 14: _The New Monthly Magazine_, at this time edited by +Bulwer, afterwards the first Lord Lytton.] + + +The letter just printed contains the first allusion in Miss Barrett's +letters to any of her own writings. The translation of the 'Prometheus +Bound' of Aeschylus was the first-fruits of the removal to Sidmouth. +It was written, as she told Horne eleven years afterwards, 'in twelve +days, and should have been thrown into the fire afterwards--the only +means of giving it a little warmth.'[15] Indeed, so dissatisfied +did she subsequently become with it, that she did what she could to +suppress it, and in the collected edition of 1850 substituted another +version, written in 1845, which she hoped would secure the final +oblivion of her earlier attempt.[16] The letter given above shows that +the composition of the earlier version took place at the end of 1832; +and in the following year it was published by Mr. Valpy, along with +some shorter poems, of which Miss Barrett subsequently wrote that 'a +few of the fugitive poems may be worth a little, perhaps; but they +have not so much goodness as to overcome the badness of the blasphemy +of Aeschylus.' The volume, which was published anonymously, received +two sentences of contemptuous notice from the 'Athenaeum,' in which +the reviewer advised 'those who adventure in the hazardous lists of +poetic translation to touch anyone rather than Aeschylus, and they may +take warning by the author before us.'[17] + +[Footnote 15: _Letters to R.H. Home_, i. 162.] + +[Footnote 16: It need hardly be said that the literary resurrectionist +has been too much for her, and the version of 1833 has recently +been reprinted. Of this reprint the best that can be said is that it +provides an occasion for an essay by Mrs. Meynell.] + +[Footnote 17: _Athenaeum_, June 8, 1833.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Sidmouth: May 27, 1833. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I am half afraid of your being very angry +indeed with me; and perhaps it would be quite as well to spare this +sheet of paper an angry look of yours, by consigning it over to +Henrietta. Yet do believe me, I have been anxious to write to you a +long time, and did not know where to direct my letter. The history +of all my unkindness to you is this: I delayed answering your kind +welcome letter from Rome, for three weeks, because Henrietta was at +Torquay, and I knew that she would like to write in it, and because +I was unreasonable enough to expect to hear every day of her coming +home. At the end of the three weeks, and on consulting your dates and +plans, I found out that you would probably have quitted Rome before +any letter of mine arrived there. Since then, I have been inquiring, +and all in vain, about where I could find you out. All I could hear +was, that you were somewhere between Italy and England; and all I +could do was, to wait patiently, and throw myself at your feet as soon +as you came within sight and hearing. And now do be as generous as you +can, my dear Mrs. Martin, and try to forgive one who never _could_ be +guilty of the fault of forgetting you, notwithstanding appearances. We +heard only yesterday of your being expected at Colwall. And although +we cannot welcome you there, otherwise than in this way, at the +distance of 140 miles, yet we must welcome you in this way, and assure +both of you how glad we are that the same island holds all of us once +more. It pleased us very much to hear how you were enjoying yourselves +in Rome; and you must please us now by telling us that you are +enjoying yourselves at Colwall, and that you bear the change with +English philosophy. The fishing at Abbeville was a link between +the past and the present; and would make the transition between the +eternal city and the eternal tithes a little less striking. My wonder +is how you could have persuaded yourselves to keep your promise and +leave Italy as soon as you did. Tell me how you managed it. And tell +me everything about yourselves--how you are and how you feel, and +whether you look backwards or forwards with the most pleasure, and +whether the influenza has been among your welcomers to England. +Henrietta and Arabel and Daisy[18] were confined by it to their beds +for several days and the two former are only now recovering their +strength. Three or four of the other boys had symptoms which were not +strong enough to put them to bed. As for me, I have been quite well +all the spring, and almost all the winter. I don't know when I have +been so long well as I have been lately; without a cough or anything +else disagreeable. Indeed, if I may place the influenza in a +parenthesis, we have all been perfectly well, in spite of our +fishing and boating and getting wet three times a day. There is good +trout-fishing at the Otter, and the noble river Sid, which, if I liked +to stand in it, _might_ cover my ankles. And lately, Daisy and +Sette and Occyta have studied the art of catching shrimps, and soak +themselves up to their waists like professors. My love of water +concentrates itself in the boat; and this I enjoy very much, when the +sea is as blue and calm as the sky, which it has often been lately. Of +society we have had little indeed; but Henrietta had more than much +of it at Torquay during three months; and as for me, you know I don't +want any though I am far from meaning to speak disrespectfully of _Mr. +Boyds_, which has been a pleasure and comfort to me. His house is +not farther than a five minutes' walk from ours; and I often make it +_four_ in my haste to get there. Ask Eliza Cliffe to lend you the May +number of the 'Wesleyan Magazine;' and if you have an opportunity of +procuring last December's number, _do_ procure _that_. There are +some translations in each of them, which I think you will like. The +December translation is my favourite, though I was amanuensis only +in the May one. Henrietta and Arabel have a drawing master, and are +meditating soon beginning to sketch out of doors--that is, if before +the meditation is at an end we do not leave Sidmouth. Our plans are +quite uncertain; and papa has not, I believe, made up his mind whether +or not to take this house on after the beginning of next month; +when our engagement with our present landlord closes. If we do leave +Sidmouth, you know as well as I do where we shall go. Perhaps to +Boulogne! perhaps to the Swan River. The West Indians are irreparably +ruined if the Bill passes. Papa says that in the case of its passing, +nobody in his senses would think of even attempting the culture of +sugar, and that they had better hang weights to the sides of the +island of Jamaica and sink it at once. Don't you think certain heads +might be found heavy enough for the purpose? No insinuation, I assure +you, against the Administration, in spite of the dagger in their right +hands. Mr. Atwood seems to me a demi-god of ingratitude! So much for +the 'fickle reek of popular breath' to which men have erected their +temple of the winds--who would trust a feather to it? I am almost more +sorry for poor Lord Grey who is going to ruin us, than for our poor +selves who are going to be ruined. You will hear that my 'Prometheus +and other Poems' came into light a few weeks ago--a fortnight ago, I +think. I dare say I shall wish it out of the light before I have done +with it. And I dare say Henrietta is wishing me anywhere, rather than +where I am. Certainly I have past _all bounds_. Do write soon, and +tell us everything about Mr. Martin and yourself. And ever believe me, +dearest Mrs. Martin, + +Your affectionate +E.B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 18: Alfred, the fifth brother.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Sidmouth: September 7, 1833. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Are you a _little_ angry _again_? I do hope +not. I should have written long ago if it had not been for Henrietta; +and Henrietta would have written very lately if it had not been for +me: and we must beg of you to forgive us both for the sake of each +other. Thank you for the kind letter which I have been so tardy in +thanking you for, but which was not, on that account, the less gladly +received. Do believe how much it pleases me _always_ to see and read +dear Mrs. Martin's handwriting. But I must try to tell you some +less ancient truths. We are still in the ruinous house. Without any +poetical fiction, the walls are too frail for even _me_, who enjoy the +situation in a most particularly particular manner, to have any desire +to pass the winter within them. One wind we have had the privilege of +hearing already; and down came the tiles while we were at dinner, and +made us all think that down something else was coming. We have had +one chimney pulled down to prevent it from tumbling down; and have +received especial injunctions from the bricklayers not to lean too +much out of the windows, for fear the walls should follow the destiny +of the chimney. Altogether there is every reasonable probability +that the whole house will in the course of next winter be as like +Persepolis as anything so ugly can be! If another house which will fit +us can be found in Sidmouth, I am sure papa will take it; but, as he +said the other day, 'If I can't find a house, I must go.' I hope he +may find one, and as near the sea as this ruin. I have enjoyed its +moonlight and its calmness all the summer; and am prepared to enjoy +its tempestuousness of the winter with as true an enjoyment. What we +shall do ultimately, I do not even dream; and, if I know papa, _he_ +does not. My visions of the future are confined to 'what shall I +write or read next,' and 'when shall we next go out in the boat,' and +_they_, you know, can do no harm to anybody. Of one thing I have a +comforting certainty--that wherever we may go or stay, the decree +which moves or fixes us will and must be the 'wisest virtuousest +discreetest best!' ... + +So, I will change the subject to myself. You told me that you were +going to read my book, and I want to know what you think of it. If you +were given to compliment and insincerity, I should be afraid of asking +you; because, among other _evident_ reasons, I might then appear to +be asking for your praise instead of your opinion. As it is--I want to +know what you think of my book. Is the translation stiff? If you know +me at all (and I venture to hope that you do) you will be certain that +I shall _like_ your honesty, and love you for being honest, even if +you put on the very blackest of black caps.... + +Of course you know that the late Bill has ruined the West Indians. +That is settled. The consternation here is very great. Nevertheless I +am glad, and always shall be, that the negroes are--virtually--free! + +May God bless you, dear Mrs. Martin! +Ever believe me, your affectionate +E.B. BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Sidmouth: Friday [1834]. + +My dear Friend,--I don't know how I shall begin to persuade you not to +be angry with me, but perhaps the best plan will be to confess as many +sins as would cover this sheet of paper, and then to go on with my +merits. Certainly I am altogether guiltless of your charge of not +noticing your book's arrival because no Calvinism arrived with it. +I told you the bare truth when I told you _why_ I did not write +immediately. The passage relating to Calvinism I certainly read, +and as certainly was sorry for; but as certainly as both those +certainties, such reading and such regret had nothing whatever to do +with the silence which made you so angry with me. + +The other particular thing of which I should have written is Mr. +Parker and my letters. I am more and, more sorry that you should have +sent them to him at all--not that their loss is any loss to anybody, +but that I scarcely like the idea--indeed, I don't like it at all--of +their remaining, worthless as they are, at Mr. P.'s mercy. As for +my writing about them, I should not be able to make up my mind to +do _that_. You know I had nothing to do with their being sent to Mr. +Parker, and was indeed in complete ignorance of it. Besides, I should +be half ashamed to write to him now on any subject. A very long +interregnum took place in our correspondence, which was his own work; +and when he wrote to me the summer before last, I delayed from week +to week, and then from month to month, answering it. And now I feel +ashamed to write at all. + +Perhaps you will wonder why I am not ashamed to write to _you_. Indeed +I have meant to do it very, very often. Don't be severe upon me. I am +always afraid of writing to you too often, and so the opposite fault +is apt to be run into--of writing too seldom. IF THAT is a _fault_. +You see my scepticism is becoming faster and faster developed. + +Let me hear from you soon, if you are not angry. I have been reading +the Bridgewater treatise, and am now trying to understand Prout upon +Chemistry. I shall be worth something at last, shall I not? Who knows +but what I may die a glorious death under the _pons asinorum_ after +all? Prout (if I succeed in understanding him) does not hold that +matter is infinitely divisible; and so I suppose the seeds of +matter--the ultimate molecules--are a kind of _tertium quid_ between +matter and spirit. Certainly I can't believe that any kind of matter, +primal or ultimate, can be _indivisible_, which it must according to +his view. + +Chalmers's treatise is, as to eloquence, surpassingly beautiful; as to +matter, I could not walk with him all the way, although I longed to +do it, for he walked on flowers, and under shade--'no tree on which a +fine bird did not sit.' ... + +Believe me, your affectionate friend, +E.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Sidmouth: September 14, [1834]. + +My dear Mr. Boyd,--I won't ask you to forgive me for not writing +before, because I know very well that you would rather have not heard +from me immediately.... And so, you and Mrs. Mathew have been tearing +to pieces--to the very rags--all my elaborate theology! And when Mr. +Young is 'strong enough,' he is to help you at your cruel work! 'The +points upon which you and I differed' are so numerous, that if I +really _am_ wrong upon every one of them, Mrs. Mathew has indeed +reason to 'punish me with hard thoughts.' Well, she can't help my +feeling for her much esteem, although I never saw her. And if I _were_ +to see her, I would not argue with her; I would only ask her to let me +love her. I am weary of controversy in religion, and should be so +were I stronger and more successful in it than I am or care to be. The +command is not 'argue with one another,' but 'love one another.' It +is better to love than to convince. They who lie on the bosom of Jesus +must lie there _together_! + +Not a word about your book![19] Don't you mean to tell me anything +of it? I saw a review of it--rather a satisfactory one--I think in an +_August_ number of the 'Athenaeum.' If you will look into 'Fraser's +Magazine' for August, at an article entitled 'Rogueries of Tom Moore,' +you will be amused with a notice of the 'Edinburgh Review's' criticism +in the text, and of yourself in a note. We have had a crowded Bible +meeting, and a Church Missionary and London Missionary meeting +besides; and I went last Tuesday to the Exmouth Bible meeting with +Mrs. Maling, Miss Taylor, and Mr. Hunter. We did not return until +half-past one in the morning.... The Bishop of Barbadoes and the Dean +of Winchester were walking together on the beach yesterday, making +Sidmouth look quite episcopal. You would not have despised it _half so +much_, had you been here. + +Do you know any person who would like to send his or her son to +Sidmouth, for the sake of the climate, and private instruction: and +if you do, will you mention it to me? I am very sorry to hear of Mrs. +Boyd being so unwell. Arabel had a letter two days ago from Annie, and +as it mentions Mrs. Boyd's having gone to Dover, I trust that she is +well again. Should she be returned, give my love to her. + +The black-edged paper may make you wonder at its cause. Our dear +aunt Mrs. Butler died last month at Dieppe--and died _in Jesus_. Miss +Clarke is going, if she is not gone, to Italy for the winter. + +Believe me, affectionately yours, +E.B. BARRETT. + +Write to me whenever you _dislike it least_, and tell me what your +plans are. I hear nothing about our leaving Sidmouth. + +[Footnote 19: _The Fathers not Papists_, including a reprint of some +translations from the Greek Fathers, which Mr. Boyd had published +previously.] + + +_To Miss Commeline_ +September 22, 1834 [Sidmouth]. + +I am afraid that there can be no chance of my handwriting at least +being unforgotten by you, dear Miss Commeline, but in the case of your +having a very long memory you may remember the name which shall be +written at the end of this note, and which belongs to one who does +not, nor is likely to forget you! I was much, _much_ obliged to you +for the kind few lines you wrote to me--how long ago! No, do not +remember how long--do not remember _that_ for fear you should think me +unkind, and--what I am not! I have intended again and again to answer +your note, and I am doing it--_at last_! Are you all quite well? Mrs. +Commeline and all of you? Shall I ever see any of you again? Perhaps +I shall not; but even if I do not, I shall not cease to wish you to be +well and happy 'in the body or out of the body.' + +We came to Sidmouth for two months, and you see we are here still; and +when we are likely to go is as uncertain as ever. I like the place, +and some of its inhabitants. I like the greenness and the tranquillity +and the sea; and the solitude of one dear seat which hangs over it, +and which is too far or too lonely for many others to like besides +myself. We are living in a thatched cottage, with a green lawn bounded +by a _Devonshire lane_. Do you know what that is? Milton did when he +wrote of 'hedgerow elms and hillocks green.' Indeed Sidmouth is a nest +among elms; and the lulling of the sea and the shadow of the hills +make it a peaceful one. But there are no majestic features in the +country. It is all green and fresh and secluded; and the grandeur is +concentrated upon the ocean without deigning to have anything to do +with the earth. I often find my thoughts where my footsteps once used +to be! but there is no use in speaking of that.... + +Pray believe me, affectionately yours, +E.B. BARRETT. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Sidmouth: Friday, December 19, 1834 [postmark]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--... We have lately had deep anxiety with +regard to our dear papa. He left us two months ago to do his London +business: and a few weeks since we were told by a letter from him that +he was ill; he giving us to understand that his complaint was of +a rheumatic character. By the next coach, we were so daring (I can +scarcely understand how we managed it) as to send Henry to him: +thinking that it would be better to be scolded than to suffer him to +be alone and in suffering at a London hotel. We were not scolded: but +my prayer to be permitted to follow Henry was condemned to silence: +and what was said being said emphatically, I was obliged to submit, +and to be + +thankful for the unsatisfactory accounts which for many days +afterwards we received.... I cannot help being anxious and fearful. +You know he is _all_ left to us--and that without him we should indeed +be orphans and desolate. Therefore you may well know what feelings +those are with which we look back upon his danger; and forwards to any +threatening of a return of it.... It may not be so. Do not, when you +write, allude to my fearing about it. Our only feeling now should +certainly be a deep feeling of thankfulness towards that God of all +consolation Who has permitted us to know His love in the midst of many +griefs; and Who while He has often cast upon us the sorrow and the +shadow, has yet enabled us to recognise it as that 'shadow of the +wings of the Almighty,' wherein we may 'rejoice.' We shall probably +see our dear papa next week. At least we know that he is only waiting +for strength and that he is already able to go out--I fear, not to +_walk_ out. Here we are all well. Belle Vue is sold, and we shall +probably have to leave it in March: but I do not think that we shall +do so before. Henrietta is still very anxious to leave Sidmouth +altogether; and I still feel that I shall very much grieve to leave +it: so that it is happy for us that neither is the _decider_ on this +point. I have often thought that it is happier _not_ to do what one +pleases, and perhaps you will agree with me--if you don't please at +the present moment to do something very particular. And do tell me, +dear Mrs. Martin, what you are pleasing to do, and what you are doing: +for it seems to me, and indeed is, a long time since I heard of +you and Mr. Martin _in detail_. Miss Maria Commeline sent a note to +Henrietta a fortnight ago: and in it was honorable mention of you--but +I won't interfere with the sublimities of your imagination, by telling +you what it was.... I should like to hear something of Hope End: +whether there are many alterations, and whether the new lodge, of +which I heard, is built. Even now, the thought stands before me +sometimes like an object in a dream that I shall see no more those +hills and trees which seemed to me once almost like portions of my +existence. This is not meant for murmuring. I have had much happiness +at Sidmouth, though with a character of its own. Henrietta and Arabel +and I are the only guardians just now of the three youngest boys, the +only ones at home: and I assure you, we have not too little to do. +They are no longer _little_ boys. There is an anxiety among us just +now to have letters from Jamaica--from my dear dear Bro--but the +packet is only 'expected.' The last accounts were comforting ones; +and I am living on the hope of seeing him back again in the spring. +Stormie and Georgie are doing well at Glasgow. So Dr. Wardlaw says.... +Henrietta's particular love to you; and _do_ believe me always, + +Your affectionate +E.B. BARRETT. + +You have of course heard of poor Mrs. Boyd's death. Mr. Boyd and his +daughter are both in London, and likely, I think, to remain there. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Sidmouth: Tuesday [spring 1835]. + +My dear Mr. Boyd,--... Now I am going to tell you the only good news I +know, and you will be glad, I know, to be told what I am going to +tell you. Dear Georgie has taken his degree, and very honorably, at +Glasgow, and is coming to us in all the dignity of a Bachelor of Arts. +He was examined in Logic, Moral Philosophy, Greek and Latin, of course +publicly: and we have heard from a fellow student of his, that his +answers were more pertinent than those of any other of the examined, +and elicited much applause. Mr. Groube is the fellow student--but he +has ceased to be one, having found the Glasgow studies too heavy for +his health. Stormie shrank from the public examination, on account of +the hesitation in his speech. He would not go up; although, according +to report, as well qualified as Georgie. Mr. Groube says that the +ladies of Glasgow are preparing to break their hearts for Georgie's +departure: and he and Stormie leave Glasgow on May I. Now, I am sure +you will rejoice with me in the result of the examination. Do you not, +dear friend? I was very anxious about it; and almost resigned to hear +of a failure--for Georgie was in great alarm and prepared us for the +very worst. Therefore the surprise and pleasure were great. + +I can't tell you of our plans; although the Glasgow students come to +us in a week and this house will be too small to receive them. We +may leave Sidmouth immediately, or not at all. I shall soon be quite +qualified to write a poem on the 'Pleasures of _Doubt_'--and a very +good subject it will be. The pleasures of certainty are generally far +less enjoyable--I mean as pleasures go in this unpleasing world. Papa +is in London, and much better when we heard from him last--and we are +awaiting his decree.... + +And now what remains for me to tell you? I believe I have read more +Hebrew than Greek lately; yet the dear Greek is not less dear than +ever. Who reads Greek to you? Who holds my office? Some one, I hope, +with an articulation of more congenial slowness. + +Give Annie my kind love. May God preserve both of you! + +Believe me, your affectionate friend, +E.B. BARRETT. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +1835-1841 + +The residence of the Barretts at Sidmouth had never been a very +settled one--never intended to be permanent, and yet never having a +fixed term nor any reason for a fixed term. Hence it spread itself +gradually over a space of nearly three years, before the long +contemplated move to London actually took place. During the latter +part of that period, however, extant letters of Miss Barrett are +almost wholly wanting, and there is little information from any other +source as to the course of her life. It was apparently in the summer +of 1835 that Sidmouth was finally left behind, Mr. Barrett having +then taken a house at 74 Gloucester Place (near Baker Street), which, +though never regarded as more than a temporary residence, continued to +be the home of his family for the next three years. + +The move to London was followed by two results of great importance +for Elizabeth Barrett. In the first place, her health, which had never +been strong, broke down altogether in the London atmosphere, and it is +from some time shortly after the arrival in Gloucester Place that +the beginning of her invalid life must be dated. On the other hand, +residence in London brought her into the neighbourhood of new friends; +and although the number of those admitted to see her in her sick-room +was always small, we yet owe to this fact the commencement of some of +her closest friendships, notably those with her distant cousin, John +Kenyon, and with Miss Mitford, the authoress of 'Our Village,' and of +a correspondence on a much fuller and more elaborate scale than any of +the earlier period. To this, no doubt, the fact of her confinement to +her room contributed not a little; for being unable to go out and see +her friends, much of her communication with them was necessarily by +letter. At the same time her literary activity was increasing. She +began to contribute poems to various magazines, and to be brought +thereby into connection with literary men; and she was also employed +on the longer compositions which went to make up her next volume of +published verse. + +All this was, however, only of gradual development; and for some time +her correspondence is limited to Mr. Boyd, who was now living in St. +John's Wood, and Mrs. Martin. The exact date of the first letter is +uncertain, but it seems to belong to a time soon after the arrival of +the Barretts in town. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[74 Gloucester Place, London: autumn 1835.] + +My dear Mr. Boyd,--As Georgie is going to do what I am afraid I shall +not be able to do to-day--namely, to visit _you_--he must take with +him a few lines from _Porsonia_ _greeting_, to say how glad I am to +feel myself again at only a short distance from you, and how still +gladder I shall be when the same room holds both of us. Don't be angry +because I have not visited you immediately. You know--or you _will_ +know, if you consider--I cannot open the window and fly. + +Papa and I were very much obliged to you for the poison--and are ready +to smile upon you whenever you give us the opportunity, as graciously +as Socrates did upon his executioner. How much you will have to say +to me about the Greeks, unless you begin first to abuse me about +the _Romans_; and if you begin _that_, the peroration will be a +very pathetic one, in my being turned out of your doors. Such is my +prophecy. + +Papa has been telling me of your abusing my stanzas on Mrs. Hemans's +death. I had a presentiment that you would: and behold, why I said +nothing to you of them. Of course, I maintain, _versus_ both you and +papa, that they are very much to be admired: as well as everything +else proceeding from or belonging to ME. Upon which principle, I hope +you will admire George particularly. + +Believe me, dear Mr. Boyd, your affectionate friend, +E.B. BARRETT. + +Arabel's and my love to Annie. Won't she come to see us? + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +74 Gloucester Place, Portman Square, London: Jan. I, 1836. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I am half willing and half unwilling to write +to you when, among such dearer interests and deep anxieties, you may +perhaps be scarcely at liberty to attend to what I write. And yet I +_will_ write, if it be only briefly, that you may not think--if you +think of us at all--that we have changed our hearts with our residence +so much as to forget to sympathise with you, dear Mrs. Martin, or to +neglect to apprise you ourselves of our movements. Indeed, a letter +to you should have been written among my first letters on arriving in +London, only Henrietta (my scape-goat, _you_ will say) said, '_I_ will +write to Mrs. Martin.' And then after I had waited, and determined +to write without waiting any longer, we heard of poor Mrs. Hanford's +affliction and your anxiety, and I have considered day after day +whether or not I should intrude upon you; until I find myself--_thus_! + +I do hope that you have from the hand of God those consolations which +only He in Jesus Christ can give to the so afflicted. For I know well +that you are afflicted with the afflicted, and that with you sympathy +is suffering; and that while the tenderest earthly comfort is +administered by your presence and kindness to your dear friends, you +will feel bitterly for them what a little thing earthly comfort is, +when the earthly beloved perish before them. May He who is the Beloved +in the sight of His Father and His Church be near to them and you, and +cause you to _feel_ as well as _know_ the truth, that what is sudden +sorrow, to our judgments, is only long-prepared mercy in _His_ will +whose names are _Wisdom_ and _Love_. Should it not be, dear friend, +that the tears of our human eyes ought to serve the happy and touching +purpose of reminding us of those tears of Jesus which He shed in +assuming our sorrow with our flesh? And the memory of those tears +involves all comfort. A recognition of the oneness of the human nature +of that Divine Saviour who ever liveth, with ours which perishes and +sorrows so; an assurance drawn from thence of _His_ sympathy who sits +on the throne of God, with us who suffer in the dust of earth, and +of all those doctrines of redemption and sanctification and happiness +which come from Him and by Him. + +Now you will forgive me for writing all this, dearest Mrs. Martin. I +like to write my thoughts and feelings out of my own head and heart, +just as they suggest themselves, when I write to you; and I cannot +think of affliction, particularly when it comes near to me in the +affliction or anxiety of dear friends, without looking back and +remembering what voice of God used to sound softly to me when none +other could speak comfort. You will forgive me, and not be angry with +me for trying, or seeming to try, to be a sermon writer. + +Perhaps, dear Mrs. Martin, when you do feel inclined and able to +write, you would write me a few lines. Remember, I do not ask for them +_now_. No, do not think of writing now. I shall very much like to hear +how your dear charge is--whether there should appear any prospect of +improvement; and how poor Mrs. Hanford bears up against this heavy +calamity; and whether the anxiety and nursing affect your health. But +we shall try to hear this from the Biddulphs; and so do put me out of +your head, except when its thoughts would dwell on those on earth who +sympathise with you and care for you. + +You see we are in London after all, and poor Sidmouth left afar. I +am almost inclined to say 'poor us' instead of 'poor Sidmouth.' But +I dare say I shall soon be able to see in my dungeon, and begin to be +amused with the spiders. Half my soul, in the meantime, seems to have +stayed behind on the seashore, which I love more than ever now that I +cannot walk on it in the body. London is wrapped up like a mummy, in +a yellow mist, so closely that I have had scarcely a glimpse of its +countenance since we came. Well, I am trying to like it all very much, +and I dare say that in time I may change my taste and my senses--and +succeed. We are in a house large enough to hold us, for four months, +at the end of which time, if the experiment of our being able to live +in London succeed, I _believe_ that papa's intention is to take an +unfurnished house and have his furniture from Ledbury. You may wonder +at me, but I wish that were settled _so_, and _now_. I am _satisfied_ +with London, although I cannot enjoy it. We are not likely, in the +case of leaving it, to return to Devonshire, and I should look with +weary eyes to another strangership and pilgrimage even among green +fields that know not these fogs. Papa's object in settling here refers +to my brothers. George will probably enter as a barrister student at +the Inner Temple on the fifth or sixth of this month, and he will +have the advantage of his home by our remaining where we are. Another +advantage of London is, that we shall see here those whom we might see +nowhere else. This year, dear Mrs. Martin, may it bring with it the +true pleasure of seeing _you_! Three have gone, and we have not seen +you.... May God bless you and all that you care for, being with you +always as the God of consolation and peace. + +Your affectionate +E.B. BARRETT. + +It is from the middle of this year that Miss Barrett's active +appearance as an author may be dated. Hitherto her publications had +been confined to a few small anonymous volumes, printed rather to +please herself and her friends than with any idea of appealing to a +wider public. She was now anxious to take this farther step, and, with +that object, to obtain admission to some of the literary magazines. +This was obtained through the instrumentality of Mr. R.H. Home, +subsequently best known as the author of 'Orion.' He was at this +time personally unknown to Miss Barrett, but an application through a +common friend led both to the opening to the poetess of the pages of +the 'New Monthly Magazine,' then edited by Bulwer, and also to the +commencement of a friendship which has left its mark in the two +volumes of published letters to Mr. Home. The following is Mr. Home's +account of the opening of the acquaintance ('Letters,' i. 7, 8): + + + 'My first introduction to Miss Barrett was by a note from Mrs. + Orme, inclosing one from the young lady containing a short + poem with the modest request to be frankly told whether it + might be ranked as poetry or merely verse. As there could be + no doubt in the recipient's mind on that point, the poem was + forwarded to Colburn's "New Monthly," edited at that time by + Mr. Bulwer (afterwards the late [first] Lord Lytton), where it + duly appeared in the current number. The next manuscript sent + to me was "The Dead Pan," and the poetess at once started on + her bright and noble career.' + +The poem with which Miss Barrett thus made her bow to the world of +letters was 'The Romaunt of Margret,'[20] which appeared in the July +number of the magazine. Mr. Home must, however, have been in error +in speaking of 'The Dead Pan' as its successor, since that was not +written till some years later. More probably it was 'The Poet's +Vow,[21] which was printed in the October number of the 'New Monthly.' + +[Footnote 20: _Poetical Works_, ii. 3.] + +[Footnote 21: _Ib_. i. 277.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[London:] October 14, Friday [1836]. + +My dear Friend,--Be as little angry with me as you can. I have not +been very well for a day or two, and shall enjoy a visit to you on +Monday so much more than I shall be able to do to-day, that I will ask +you to forgive my not going to you this week, and to receive me kindly +on that day instead--provided, you know, it is not wet. + +The [Greek: Achaiides] approach the [Greek: Achaioi][22] more +tremblingly than usual, with the 'New Monthly Magazine' in their +hands. Now pray don't annoy yourself by reading a single word which +you would rather not read except for the sake of being kind to me. +And my prophecy is, that even by annoying yourself and making a +_strenuous_ effort, the whole force of friendship would not carry you +down the first page. Georgie says you want to know the verdict of the +'Athenaeum.' That paper unfortunately has been lent out of the house; +but my memory enables me to send you the words very correctly, I +think. After some observations on other periodicals, the writer goes +on to say: 'The "New Monthly Magazine" has not one heavy article. It +is rich in poetry, including some fine sonnets by the Corn Law Rhymer, +and a fine although too dreamy ballad, "The Poet's Vow." We are +almost tempted to pause and criticise the work of a writer of so much +inspiration and promise as the author of this poem, and exhort him +once again, to greater clearness of expression and less quaintness in +the choice of his phraseology; but this is not the time or place for +digression.' + +You see my critic has condemned me with a very gracious countenance. +Do put on yours, + +And believe me, affectionately yours, +E.B. BARRETT. + + +I forgot to say that you surprised and pleased me at the same time by +your praise of my 'Sea-mew.'[23] Love to Annie. We were glad to hear +that she did not _continue_ unwell, and that you are well again, too. +I hope you have had no return of the rheumatic pain. + +[Footnote 22: Miss Barrett's Greek is habitually written without +accents or breathings.] + +[Footnote 23: _Poetical Works_, ii. 278.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[74 Gloucester Place:] Saturday, [October 1836]. + +My dear Friend,--I am much disappointed in finding myself at the end +of this week without having once seen you--particularly when your two +notes are waiting all this time to be answered. Do believe that they +were not, either of them, addressed to an ungrateful person, and that +the only reason of their being received _silently_ was my hope of +answering them more agreeably to both of us--by talking instead of +writing. + +Yes; you have read my mystery.[24] + +You paid a tithe to your human nature in reading only _nine-tenths_ +of it, and the rest was a pure gift to your friendship for me, and is +taken and will be remembered as such. But you have a cruel heart for +a parody, and this one tried my sensibility so much that I cried--with +laughing. I confess to you notwithstanding, it was _very fair_, and +dealt its blow with a shining pointed weapon. + +But what will you say to me when I confess besides that, in the face +of all your kind encouragement, my Drama of the Angels[25] has never +been touched until the last three days? It was _not_ out of pure +idleness on my part, nor of disregard to your admonition; but when my +thoughts were distracted with other things, books just begun inclosing +me all around, a whole load of books upon my conscience, I could not +possibly rise up to the gate of heaven and write about my angels. +You know one can't sometimes sit down to the sublunary, occupation +of reading Greek, unless one feels _free_ to it. And writing poetry +requires a double liberty, and an inclination which comes only of +itself. + +But I have begun. I tried the blank metre once, and it _would not +do_, and so I had to begin again in lyrics. Something above an hundred +lines is written, and now I am in two panics, just as if one were not +enough. First, because it seems to me a very daring subject--a subject +almost beyond our sympathies, and therefore quite beyond the sphere of +human poetry. Perhaps when all is written courageously, I shall have +no courage left to publish it. Secondly, because all my tendencies +towards mysticism will be called into terrible operation by this +dreaming upon angels. + + Yes; you _will_ read a mystery, + +but don't make any rash resolutions about reading anything. As I have +begun, I certainly will go on with the writing. + +Here is a question for you: + +Am I to accept your generous sacrifice of reading nine-tenths of my +'Vow,' as an atonement for your WANT OF CONFIDENCE IN ME? Oh, +your conscience will understand very well what I mean, without a +dictionary. + +Arabel and I intend to pay you a visit on Monday, and if we can, and +it is convenient to you, we are inclined to invite ourselves to your +dinner table. But this is all dependent on the weather. + +Believe me, dear Mr. Boyd, your affectionate friend, +E.B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 24: An allusion to the first line of 'The Poet's Vow.'] + +[Footnote 25: The 'Seraphim,' published in 1838.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[74 Gloucester Place:] November 26, 1836 [postmark]. + +My dear Mr. Boyd,--I have been so busy that I have not been able until +this morning to take breath or _inspiration_ to answer your lyrics. +You shall see me soon, but I am sorry to say it can't be Monday or +Tuesday. + +I have had another note from the editor of the 'New Monthly +Magazine'--very flattering, and praying for farther supplies. The +Angels were not ready, and I was obliged to send something else, which +I will not ask you to read. So don't be very uneasy. + +Arabel's and my best love to Annie. And believe me in a great hurry, +for I won't miss this post, + +Yours affectionately, +E.B. BARRETT. + + Your lyrics found me dull as prose + Among a file of papers + And analysing London fogs + To nothing but the vapours. + + They knew their part; but through the fog + Their flaming lightning raising; + They missed my fancy, and instead, + My choler set a-blazing. + + Quoth I, 'I need not care a pin + For charge unjust, unsparing; + Yet oh! for ancient bodkin[26] keen, + To punish this _Pindáring_. + + 'Yet oh! that I, a female Jove, + These fogs sublime might float on, + Where, eagle-like, my dove might show + A very [Greek: _ugron nôton_].[27] + + 'Then lightning should for lightning flash, + Vexation for vexation, + And shades of St. John's Wood should glow + In awful conflagration.' + + I spoke; when lo! my birds of peace, + The vengeance disallowing, + Replied, 'Coo, coo!' But _keep in mind_, + That _cooing_ is not _cowing_.[28] + +[Footnote 26: The bodkin seems to be a favourite weapon with ancient +dames whose genius was for killing (note by E.B.B.).] + +[Footnote 27: A reference to Pindar, _Pyth_.i. 9.] + +[Footnote 28: These verses are inclosed with the foregoing letter, as +a retort to Mr. Boyd's parody.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +74 Gloucester Place: December 7, 1836. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Indeed I have long felt the need of writing +to you (I mean the need to myself), and although so many weeks and +even months have passed away in silence, they have not done so in lack +of affection and thought. + +I had wished very much to have been able to tell you in this letter +where we had taken our house, or where we were going to take it. We +remain, however, in our usual state of conscious ignorance, although +there is a good deal of talking and walking about a house in Wimpole +Street--which, between ourselves, I am not very anxious to live in, +on account of the gloominesses of that street, and of that part of the +street, whose walls look so much like Newgate's turned inside out. I +would rather go on, in my old way, inhabiting castles in the air than +that particular house. Nevertheless, if it _is_ decided upon, I dare +say I shall contrive to be satisfied with it, and sleep and wake very +much as I should in any other. It will certainly be a point gained +to be settled somewhere, and I do so long to sit in my own +armchair--strange as it will look out of my own room--and to read from +my own books.... For our own particular parts, our healths continue +good--none of us, I think, the worse for fog or wind. As to wind, we +were almost elevated into the prerogative of _pigs_ in the late storm. +We could almost _see_ it, and the feeling it might have been fatal to +us. Bro and I were moralising about shipwrecks, in the dining-room, +when down came the chimney through the skylight into the entrance +passage. You may imagine the crashing effect of the bricks bounding +from the staircase downwards, breaking the stone steps in the process, +in addition to the falling in of twenty-four large panes of glass, +frames and all. We were terrified out of all propriety, and there has +been a dreadful calumny about Henrietta and me--that we had the hall +door open for the purpose of going out into the street with our +hair on end, if Bro had not _encouraged_ us by shutting the door and +locking it. I confess to opening the door, but deny the purpose of +it--at least, maintain that I only meant to keep in reserve a way of +escape, _in case_, as seemed probable, the whole house was on its +way to the ground. Indeed, we should think much of the _mercy_ of the +escape. Bro had been on the staircase only five minutes before. Sarah +the housemaid was actually there. She looked up accidentally and saw +the nodding chimneys, and ran down into the drawing-room to papa, +shrieking, but escaping with one graze of the hand from one brick. How +did _you_ fare in the wind? I never much imagined before that anything +so true to nature as a real live storm could make itself heard in our +streets. But it has come too surely, and carried away with it, besides +our chimney, all that was left to us of the country, in the shape of +the Kensington Garden trees. Now do write to me, dearest Mrs. Martin, +and soon, and tell me all you can of your chances and mischances, and +how Mr. Martin is getting on with the parish, and yourself with the +parishioners. But you have more the name of living at Colwall than the +thing. You seem to me to lead a far more wandering life than we, +for all our homelessness and 'pilgrim shoon.' Why, you have been in +Ireland since I last said a word to you, even upon paper.... + +I sometimes think that a pilgrim's life is the wisest--at least, the +most congenial to the 'uses of this world.' We give our sympathies and +associations to our hills and fields, and then the providence of God +gives _them_ to another, It is better, perhaps, to keep a stricter +_identity_, by calling only our thoughts our own. + +Was there anybody in the world who ever loved London for itself? Did +Dr. Johnson, in his paradise of Fleet Street, love the pavement and +the walls? I doubt _that_--whether I ought to do so or not--though I +don't doubt at all that one may be contented and happy here, and love +much _in_ the place. But the place and the privileges of it don't mix +together in one's love, as is done among the hills and by the seaside. + +I or Henrietta must have told you that one of my privileges has been +to see Wordsworth twice. He was very kind to me, and let me hear +his conversation. I went with him and Miss Mitford to Chiswick, and +thought all the way that I must certainly be dreaming. I saw her +almost every day of her week's visit to London (this was all long ago, +while you were in France); and she, who overflows with warm affections +and generous benevolences, showed me every present and absent +kindness, professing to love me, and asking me to write to her. Her +novel is to be published soon after Christmas, and I believe a new +tragedy is to appear about the same time, 'under the protection of Mr. +Forrest.' Papa has given me the first two volumes of Wordsworth's new +edition. The engraving in the first is his _own face_. You might think +me affected if I told you all I felt in seeing the living face. +His manners are very simple, and his conversation not at all +_prominent_--if you quite understand what I mean by _that_. I do +myself, for I saw at the same time Landor--the brilliant Landor!--and +_felt_ the difference between great genius and eminent talent; All +these visions have passed now. I hear and see nothing, except my doves +and the fireplace, and am doing little else than [_words torn out_] +write all day long. And then people ask me what I _mean_ in [_words +torn out_]. I hope you were among the six who understood or half +understood my 'Poet's Vow'--that is, if you read it at all. Uncle +Hedley made a long pause at the first part. But I have been reading, +too, Sheridan Knowles's play of the 'Wreckers.' It is full of passion +and pathos, and made me shed a great many tears. How do you get on +with the reading society? Do you see much or anything of Lady Margaret +Cocks, from whom I never hear now? I promised to let her have 'Ion,' +if I could, before she left Brighton, but the person to whom it was +lent did not return it to me in time. Will you tell her this, if you +do see her, and give her my kind regards at the same time? Dear Bell +was so sorry not to have seen you. If she had, you would have thought +her looking _very_ well, notwithstanding the thinness--perhaps, in +some measure, on account of it--and in _eminent_ spirits. I have not +seen her in such spirits for very, very long. And there she is, down +at Torquay, with the Hedleys and Butlers, making quite a colony of it, +and everybody, in each several letter, grumbling in an undertone at +the dullness of the place. What would _I_ give to see the waves once +more! But perhaps if I were there, I should grumble too. It is a +happiness to them to be _together_, and that, I am sure, they all +feel.... + +Believe me, dearest Mrs. Martin, your affectionate +E.B.B. + +Oh that you would call me Ba![29] + + +[Footnote 29: Elizabeth Barrett's 'pet name' (see her poem, _Poetical +Works_, ii. 249), given to her as a child by her brother Edward, and +used by her family and friends, and by herself in her letters to them, +throughout her life.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[74 Gloucester Place:] +Thursday, December 15, 1836 [postmark]. + +My dear Mr. Boyd,--... Two mornings since, I saw in the paper, under +the head of literary news, that a change of editorship was taking +place in the 'New Monthly Magazine;' and that Theodore Hook was to +preside in the room of Mr. Hall. I am so much too modest and too wise +to expect the patronage of two editors in succession, that I expect +both my poems in a return cover, by every twopenny post. Besides, what +has Theodore Hook to do with Seraphim? So, I shall leave that poem of +mine to your imagination; which won't be half as troublesome to you as +if I asked you to read it; begging you to be assured--to write it down +in your critical rubric--that it is the very finest composition you +ever read, _next_ (of course) to the beloved 'De Virginitate' of +Gregory Nazianzen.[30] + +Mr. Stratten has just been here. I admire him more than I ever did, +for his admiration of my doves. By the way, I am sure he thought them +the most agreeable of the whole party; for he said, what he never did +before, that he could sit here for an hour! Our love to Annie--and +forgive me for Baskettiring a letter to you. I mean, of course, as to +size, not type. + +Yours affectionately, +E.B. BARRETT. + +Is your poem printed yet? + + [Footnote 30:Do you mind that deed of Até + Which you bound me to so fast,-- + Reading 'De Virginitate,' + From the first line to the last? + How I said at ending solemn, + As I turned and looked at you, + That Saint Simeon on the column + Had had somewhat less to do? + +'Wine of Cyprus' (_Poetical Works_, iii. 139)] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[74 Gloucester Place:] Tuesday [Christmas 1836]. + +My dear Friend,--I am very much obliged to you for the _two_ copies +of your poem, so beautifully printed, with such 'majestical' types, +on such 'magnifical' paper, as to be almost worthy of Baskett himself. +You are too liberal in sending me more than one copy; and pray accept +in return a duplicate of gratitude. + +As to my 'Seraphim,' they are not returned to me, as in the case of +their being unaccepted, I expressly begged they might be. Had the old +editor been the present one, my inference would of course be, that +their insertion was a determined matter; but as it is, I don't +know what to think.[31] A long list of great names, belonging to +_intending_ contributors, appeared in the paper a day or two ago, and +among them was Miss Mitford's. + +Are you wroth with me for not saying a word about going to see +you? Arabel and I won't affirm it mathematically--but we are, +metaphysically, _talking_ of paying our visit to you next Tuesday. +Don't expect us, nevertheless. + +Yours affectionately, +E.B. BARRETT. + +What are my Christmas good wishes to be? That you may hold a Field in +your right hand, and a Baskerville in your left, before the year is +out! That degree of happiness will satisfy at least the _bodily_ part +of you. + +You may wish, in return, for _me_, that I may learn to write rather +more legibly than 'at these presents.' + +Our love to Annie. + +Won't you send your new poem to Mr. Barker, to the care of Mr. Valpy, +with your Christmas benedictions? + +[Footnote 31: As a matter of fact, 'The Seraphim' was not printed in +the _New Monthly_, being probably thought too long.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_. +[74 Gloucester Place:] January 23, 1837 [postmark]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I am standing in Henrietta's place, she +says--but not, _I_ say, to answer your letter to _her_ yesterday, but +your letter to _me_, some weeks ago--which I meant to answer much +more immediately if the _ignis fatuus_ of a house (you see to what +a miserable fatuity I am reduced, of applying your pure country +metaphors to our brick pollutions) had not been gliding just +before us, and I had not much wished to be able to tell you of our +settlement. As it is, however, I must write, and shall keep a solemn +silence on the solemn subject of our shifting plans.... + +No! I was not at all disappointed in Wordsworth, although perhaps I +should not have singled him from the multitude as a great man. There +is a _reserve_ even in his countenance, which does not lighten +as Landor's does, whom I saw the same evening. His eyes have more +meekness than brilliancy; and in his slow even articulation there +is rather the solemnity and calmness of _truth_ itself, than the +animation and energy of those who seek for it. As to my being quite at +my ease when I spoke to him, why how could you ask such a question? I +trembled both in my soul and body. But he was very kind, and sate +near me and talked to me as long as he was in the room--and recited +a translation by Cary of a sonnet of Dante's--and altogether, it was +quite a dream! Landor too--Walter Savage Landor ... in whose hands +the ashes of antiquity burn again--gave me two Greek epigrams he had +lately written ... and talked brilliantly and prominently until Bro +(he and I went together) abused him for _ambitious_ singularity and +affectation. But it was very interesting. And dear Miss Mitford too! +and Mr. Raymond, a great Hebraist and the ancient author of 'A Cure +for a Heartache!' I never walked in the skies before; and perhaps +never shall again, when so many stars are out! I shall at least see +dear Miss Mitford, who wrote to me not long ago to say that she would +soon be in London with 'Otto,' her new tragedy, which was written at +Mr. Forrest's own request, he in the most flattering manner having +applied to her a stranger, as the authoress of 'Rienzi,' for a +dramatic work worthy of his acting--after rejecting many plays offered +to him, and among them Mr. Knowles's.... She says that her play will +be quite opposed, in its execution, to 'Ion,' as unlike it 'as a +ruined castle overhanging the Rhine, to a Grecian temple.' And I do +not doubt that it will be full of ability; although my own opinion +is that she stands higher as the authoress of 'Our Village' than of +'Rienzi,' and writes prose better than poetry, and transcends rather +in Dutch minuteness and high finishing, than in Italian ideality and +passion. I think besides that Mr. Forrest's rejection of any play +of Sheridan Knowles must refer rather to its unfitness for the +development of his own personal talent, than to its abstract demerit, +whatever Transatlantic tastes he may bring with him. The published +title of the last play is 'The Daughter,' not 'The Wreckers,' although +I believe it was acted as the last. I am very anxious to read 'Otto,' +not to _see_ it. I am not going to see it, notwithstanding an offered +temptation to sit in the authoress's own box. With regard to 'Ion,' +I think it is a beautiful work, but beautiful _rather_ morally than +intellectually. Is this right or not? Its moral tone is very noble, +and sends a grand and touching harmony into the midst of the full +discord of this utilitarian age. As dramatic _poetry_, it seems to me +to want, not beauty, but power, passion, and condensation. This is my +_doxy_ about 'Ion.' Its author[32] made me very proud by sending it to +me, although we do not know him personally. I have _heard_ that he is +a most amiable man (who else could have written 'Ion'?), but that he +was a little _elevated_ by his popularity last year!... + +I have read Combe's 'Phrenology,' but not the 'Constitution of Man.' +The 'Phrenology' is very clever, and amusing; but I do not think it +logical or satisfactory. I forget whether 'slowness of the pulse' _is_ +mentioned in it as a symptom of the poetical aestus. I am afraid, if +it be a symptom, I dare not take my place even in the 'forlorn hope of +poets' in this age so forlorn as to its poetry; for my pulse is in a +continual flutter and my feet not half cold enough for a pedestal--so +I must make my honours over to poor papa straightway. He has been +shivering and shuddering through the cold weather; and partaking our +influenza in the warmer. I am very sorry that you should have been a +sufferer too. It seems to have been a universal pestilence, even down +in Devonshire, where dear Bummy and the whole colony have had their +share of 'groans.' And one of my doves shook its pretty head and +ruffled its feathers and shut its eyes, and became subject to pap and +nursing and other infirmities for two or three days, until I was in +great consternation for the result. But it is well again--cooing as +usual; and so indeed we all are. But indeed, I can't write a +sentence more without saying some of the evil it deserves--of the +utilitarianisms of this corrupt age--among some of the chief of which +are steel pens! + +I am so glad that you liked my 'Romaunt,' and so resigned that you did +not understand some of my 'Poet's Vow,' and so obliged that you should +care to go on reading what I write. They vouchsafed to publish in the +first number of the new series of the 'New Monthly' a little poem of +mine called 'The Island,'[33] but so incorrectly that I was glad at +the additional oblivion of my signature. If you see it, pray alter the +last senseless line of the first page into 'Leaf sounds with water, in +your ear,' and put 'amreeta' instead of 'amneta' on the second page; +and strike out '_of_' in the line which names Aeschylus! There are +other blunders, [but] these are intolerable, and cast me out of my +'contentment' for some time. I have begged for [proof] sheets in +future; and as none have come for the ensuing month, I suppose I shall +have nothing in the next number. They have a lyrical dramatic poem of +mine, 'The Two Seraphim,' which, whenever it appears, I shall like to +have your opinion of. As to the incomprehensible line in the 'Poet's +Vow' of which you asked me the meaning, 'One making one in strong +compass,' I meant to express how that oneness of God, 'in whom are all +things,' produces a oneness or sympathy (sympathy being the tendency +of many to become one) in all things. Do you understand? or is the +explanation to be explained? The unity of God preserves a unity in +men--that is, a perpetual sympathy between man and man--which sympathy +we must be subject to, if not in our joys, yet in our griefs. I +believe the subject itself involves the necessity of some mysticism; +but I must make no excuses. I am afraid that my very Seraphim will not +be thought to stand in a very clear light, even at heaven's gate. But +this is much _asay_ about nothing ... + +The Bishop of Exeter is staying and preaching at Torquay. Do you not +envy them all for making part of his congregation? I am sure I do +_as much_. I envy you your before-breakfast activity. I am never a +_complete man_ without my breakfast--it seems to be some integral part +of my soul. _You_ 'read all O'Connell's speeches.' I never read any of +them--unless they take me by surprise. I keep my devotion for _unpaid_ +patriots; but Miss Mitford is another devotee of Mr. O'Connell ... + +Dearest Mrs. Martin's affectionate +E.B. BARRETT. + +Thank you for the 'Ba' in Henrietta's letter. If you knew how many +people, whom I have known only within this year or two, whether I like +them or not, say 'Ba, Ba,' quite naturally and pastorally, you would +not come to me with the detestable 'Miss B.' + +[Footnote 32: Serjeant Talfourd.] + +[Footnote 33: _Poetical Works_, ii. 248.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +London: August 16, 1837. + +My dear Mrs. Martin,--It seems a long long time since we had any +intercourse; and the answer to your last pleasant letter to Henrietta +_must_ go to you from me. We have heard of you that you don't mean to +return to England before the spring--which news proved me a prophet, +and disappointed me at the same time, for one can't enjoy even a +prophecy in this world without something vexing. Indeed, I do long to +see you again, dearest Mrs. Martin, and should always have the same +pleasure in it, and affection for you, if my friends and acquaintances +were as much multiplied as you _wrongly_ suppose them to be. But the +truth is that I have almost none at all, in this place; and, except +our relative Mr. Kenyon, not one literary in any sense. Dear Miss +Mitford, one of the very kindest of human beings, lies buried in +geraniums, thirty miles away. I could not conceive what Henrietta +had been telling you, or what you meant, for a long time--until we +conjectured that it must have been something about Lady Dacre, who +kindly sent me her book, and intimated that she would be glad to +receive me at her conversations--and you know me better than to +doubt whether I would go or not. There was an equal unworthiness and +unwillingness towards the honor of it. Indeed, dearest Mrs. Martin, +it is almost surprising how we contrive to be as dull in London as in +Devonshire--perhaps more so, for the sight of a multitude induces a +sense of seclusion which one has not without it; and, besides, there +were at Sidmouth many more known faces and listened-to voices than we +see and hear in this place. No house yet! And you will scarcely +have patience to read that papa has seen and likes another house in +Devonshire Place, and that he _may_ take it, and we _may_ be settled +in it, before the year closes. I myself think of the whole business +indifferently. My thoughts have turned so long on the subject of +houses, that the pivot is broken--and now they won't turn any more. +All that remains is, a sort of consciousness, that we should be more +comfortable in a house with cleaner carpets, and taken for rather +longer than a week at a time. Perhaps, after all, we are quite as well +_sur le tapis_ as it is. It is a thousand to one but that the feeling +of four red London walls closing around us for seven, eleven, or +twenty-five years, would be a harsh and hard one, and make us cry +wistfully to 'get out.' I am sure you will look up to your mountains, +and down to your lakes, and enter into this conjecture. + +Talking of mountains and lakes is itself a trying thing to us poor +prisoners. Papa has talked several times of taking us into the country +for two months this summer, and we have dreamt of it a hundred times +in addition; but, after all, we are not likely to go I dare say. It +would have been very delightful--and who knows what may take place +next summer? We may not absolutely _die_, without seeing a tree. +Henrietta has seen a great many. You will have heard, I dare say, of +the enjoyment she had in her week at Camden House. She seems to have +walked from seven in the morning to seven at night; and was quite +delighted with the kindness within doors and the sunshine without. I +assure you that, fresh as she was from the air and dew, she saluted us +amidst the sentiment of our sisterly meeting just in this way--it was +almost her first exclamation--'What a very disagreeable smell there is +here!' And this, although she had brought geraniums enough from Camden +to perfume the Haymarket!... + +I am happy to announce to you that a new little dove has appeared +from a shell--over which nobody had prognosticated good--on August +16, 1837. I and the senior doves appear equally delighted, and we +all three, in the capacity of good sitters and indefatigable +pullers-about, take a good deal of credit upon ourselves.... + +Arabel has begun oil painting, and without a master--and you can't +think how much effect and expression she has given to several of her +own sketches, notwithstanding all difficulties. Poor Henrietta is +without a piano, and is not to have one again _until we have another +house_! This is something like 'when Homer and Virgil are forgotten.' +_Speaking of Homer and Virgil_, I have been writing a 'Romance of the +Ganges,'[34] in order to illustrate an engraving in the new annual +to be edited by Miss Mitford, Finden's tableaux for 1838. It does not +sound a _very_ Homeric undertaking--I confess I don't hold any kind of +annual, gild it as you please, in too much honour and awe--but from +my wish to please her, and from the necessity of its being done in a +certain time, I was 'quite frightful,' as poor old Cooke used to +say, in order to express his own nervousness. But she was quite +pleased--she is very soon pleased--and the ballad, gone the way of +all writing, now-a-days, to the press. I do wish I could send you some +kind of news that would interest you; but you see scarcely any except +all this selfishness is in my beat. Dearest Bro draws and reads +German, and I fear is dull notwithstanding. But we are every one of +us more reconciled to London than we were. Well! I must not write +any more. Whenever you think of me, dearest Mrs. Martin, remember how +deeply and unchangeably I must regard you--both with my _mind_, my +_affections_, and that part of either, called my gratitude. BA. + +Henrietta's kindest love and thanks for your letter. She desires me +to say that she and Bro are going to dine with Mrs. Robert Martin +to-morrow. I must tell you that Georgie and I went to hear Dr. +Chalmers preach, three Sundays ago. His sermon was on a text whose +extreme beauty would diffuse itself into any sermon preached upon +it--God is love. His eloquence was very great, and his views noble and +grasping. I expected much from his imagination, but not so much from +his knowledge. It was truer to Scripture than I was prepared for, +although there seemed to me some _want_ on the subject of the work +of the Holy Spirit on the heart, which work we cannot dwell upon too +emphatically. 'He worketh in us to will and to do,' and yet we are apt +to will and do without a transmission of the praise to Him. May God +bless you. + +[Footnote 34: _Poetical Works_, ii. 83.] + + +_To Miss Commeline_ +London: August 19, 1837. + +My dear Miss Commeline,--I could not hear of your being in affliction +without very frequent thoughts of you and a desire to express some of +them in this way, and although so much time has passed I do hope that +you will believe in the sympathy with which I, or rather _we_, have +thought of you, and in the regard we shall not cease to feel for you +even if we meet no more in this world. It is blessed to know both +for ourselves and for each other that while there is a darkness that +_must_ come to all, there is a light which _may_; and may He who is +the light in the dark place be with you [now] and always, causing you +to feel rather the glory that is in Him than the shadow which is in +all beside--that so the sweetness of the consolation may pass the +bitterness of even grief. Do give my love to Mrs. Commeline and to +your sisters, and believe me, all of you, that the friends who have +gone from your neighbourhood have not gone from my old remembrance, +either of your kindness to them, or of their own feelings of interest +in you. + +Trusting to such old remembrances, I will believe that you care to +know what we are doing and how we are settling--that word which has +now been on our lips for years, which it is marvellous to think how +it got upon human lips at all. We came from Sidmouth to try London and +ourselves, and see whether or not we could live together; and after +more than a year and a half close contact with smoke we find no very +good excuse for not remaining in it; and papa is going on with his +eternal hunt for houses--the wild huntsman in the ballad is nothing +to him, all except the sublimity--intending very seriously to take +the first he can. He is now about one in particular, but I won't tell +where it is because we have considered so many houses in particular +that our considerations have come to be a jest in general. I shall +be heartily glad, at least I _think_ so, for it is possible that +the reality of being bricked up for a lease time may not be very +agreeable. I think I shall be heartily glad when a house is taken, and +we have made it look like our own with our furniture and pictures and +books. I am so anxious to see my old books. I believe I shall begin at +the beginning and read every story book through in the joy of meeting, +and shall be as sedentary as ever I was in my own arm-chair. I +remember when I was a child spreading my vitality, not over trees and +flowers (I do that still--I still believe they have a certain animal +susceptibility to pleasure and pain; 'it is my creed,' and, being +Wordsworth's besides, I am not ashamed of it), but over chairs and +tables and books in particular, and being used to fancy a kind of love +in them to suit my love to them. And so if I were a child I should +have an intense pity for my poor folios, quartos, and duodecimos, to +say nothing of the arm-chair, shut up all these weeks and months in +boxes, without a rational eye to look upon them. Pray forgive me if I +have written a great deal of nonsense--'Je m'en doute.' + +Henrietta has spent a fortnight at Chislehurst with the Martins, and +was very joyous there, and came back to us with that happy triumphant +air which I always fancy people 'just from the country' put on towards +us hapless Londoners. + +But you must not think I am a discontented person and grumble all day +long at being in London. _There are many advantages here_, as I say to +myself whenever it is particularly disagreeable; and if we can't see +even a leaf or a sparrow without soot on it, there are the parrots at +the Zoological Gardens and the pictures at the Royal Academy; and real +live poets above all, with their heads full of the trees and birds and +sunshine of paradise. I have stood face to face with Wordsworth and +Landor; and Miss Mitford, who is in herself what she is in her books, +has become a dear friend of mine, but a distant one. She visits London +at long intervals, and lives thirty miles away.... + +Bro and I were studying German together all last summer with Henry, +before he left us to become a German, and I believe this is the last +of my languages, for I have begun absolutely to detest the sight of a +dictionary or grammar, which I never liked except as a means, and love +poetry with an intenser love, if that be possible, than I ever did. +Not that Greek is not as dear to me as ever, but I write more than I +read, even of Greek poetry, and am resolute to work whatever little +faculty I have, clear of imitations and conventionalisms which +cloud and weaken more poetry (particularly now-a-days) than would be +believed possible without looking into it.... + +As to society in London, I assure you that none of us have much, and +that as for me, you would wonder at seeing how possible it is to +live as secludedly in the midst of a multitude as in the centre +of solitude. My doves are my chief acquaintances, and I am so very +intimate with _them_ that they accept and even demand my assistance in +building their innumerable nests. Do tell me if there is any hope of +seeing any of you in London at any time. I say 'do tell me,' for I +will venture to ask you, dear Miss Commeline, to write me a few lines +in one of the idlest hours of one of your idlest days just to tell me +a little about you, and whether Mrs. Commeline is tolerably well. Pray +believe me under all circumstances, + +Yours sincerely and affectionately, +E.B. BARRETT. + +The spring of 1838 was marked by two events of interest to Miss +Barrett and her family. In the first place, Mr. Barrett's apparently +interminable search for a house ended in his selection of 50 Wimpole +Street, which continued to be his home for the rest of his life, and +which is, consequently, more than any other house in London, to +be associated with his daughter's memory. The second event was +the publication of 'The Seraphim, and other Poems,' which was Miss +Barrett's first serious appearance before the public, and in her +own name, as a poet. The early letters of this year refer to the +preparation of this volume, as well as to the authoress's health, +which was at this time in a very serious condition, owing to the +breaking of a blood-vessel. Indeed, from this time until her marriage +in 1846 she held her life on the frailest of tenures, and lived in all +respects the life of an invalid. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Monday morning, March 27, 1838 [postmark]. + +My dear Friend,--I do hope that you may not be very angry, but papa +thinks--and, indeed, I think--that as I have already _had_ two proof +sheets and forty-eight pages, and the printers have gone on to the +rest of the poem, it would not be very welcome to them if we were +to ask them to retrace their steps. Besides, I would rather--_I_ for +myself, _I_--that you had the whole poem at once and clearly printed +before you, to insure as many chances as possible of your liking it. +I am _promised_ to see the volume completed in three weeks from this +time, so that the dreadful moment of your reading it--I mean the +'Seraphim' part of it--cannot be far off, and perhaps, the season +being a good deal advanced even now, you might not, on consideration, +wish me to retard the appearance of the book, except for some very +sufficient reason. I feel very nervous about it--far more than I did +when my 'Prometheus' crept out [of] the Greek, or I myself out of +the shell, in the first 'Essay on Mind.' Perhaps this is owing to Dr. +Chambers's medicines, or perhaps to a consciousness that my present +attempt _is_ actually, and will be considered by others, more a trial +of strength than either of my preceding ones. + +Thank you for the books, and especially for the _editio rarissima_, +which I should as soon have thought of your trusting to me as of your +admitting me to stand with gloves on within a yard of Baxter. This +extraordinary confidence shall not be abused. + +I thank you besides for your kind inquiries about my health. Dr. +Chambers did not think me worse yesterday, notwithstanding the last +cold days, which have occasioned some uncomfortable sensations, and he +still thinks I shall be better in the summer season. In the meantime +he has ordered me to take ice--out of sympathy with nature, I suppose; +and not to speak a word, out of contradiction to my particular, human, +feminine nature. + +Whereupon I revenge myself, you see, by talking all this nonsense upon +paper, and making you the victim. + +To propitiate you, let me tell you that your commands have been +performed to the letter, and that one Greek motto (from 'Orpheus') +is given to the first part of 'The Seraphim,' and another from +_Chrysostom_ to the second. + +Henrietta desires me to say that she means to go to see you very soon. +Give my very kind remembrance to Miss Holmes, and believe me, + +Your affectionate friend, +E.B. BARRETT. + +I saw Mr. Kenyon yesterday. He has a book just coming out.[35] I +should like you to read it. If you would, you would thank me for +saying so. + +[Footnote 35: _Poems, for the most part occasional_, by John Kenyon.] + + +_To John Kenyon_[36] +[1838.] + +Thank you, dearest Mr. Kenyon; and I should (and _shall_) thank Miss +Thomson too for caring to spend a thought on me after all the Parisian +glories and rationalities which I sympathise with by many degrees +nearer than you seem to do. We, in this England here, are just social +barbarians, to my mind--that is, we know how to read and write and +think, and even talk on occasion; but we carry the old rings in our +noses, and are proud of the flowers pricked into our cuticles. By so +much are they better than we on the Continent, I always think. Life +has a thinner rind, and so a livelier sap. And _that_ I can see in the +books and the traditions, and always understand people who like living +in France and Germany, and should like it myself, I believe, on some +accounts. + +Where did you get your Bacchanalian song? Witty, certainly, but +the recollection of the _scores_ a little ghastly for the occasion, +perhaps. You have yourself sung into silence, too, all possible songs +of Bacchus, as the god and I know. + +Here is a delightful letter from Miss Martineau. I cannot be so +selfish as to keep it to myself. The sense of natural beauty and the +_good_ sense of the remarks on rural manners are both exquisite of +their kinds, and Wordsworth is Wordsworth as she knows him. Have I +said that Friday will find me expecting the kind visit you promise? +_That_, at least, is what I meant to say with all these words. + +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 36: John Kenyon (1784-1856) was born in Jamaica, the son +of a wealthy West Indian landowner, but came to England while quite +a boy, and was a conspicuous figure in literary society during the +second quarter of the century. He published some volumes of minor +verse, but is best known for his friendships with many literary men +and women, and for his boundless generosity and kindliness to all with +whom he was brought into contact. Crabb Robinson described him as a +man 'whose life is spent in making people happy.' He was a distant +cousin of Miss Barrett, and a friend of Robert Browning, who dedicated +to him his volume of 'Dramatic Romances,' besides writing and sending +to him 'Andrea del Sarto' as a substitute for a print of the painter's +portrait which he had been unable to find. The best account of Kenyon +is to be found in Mrs. Crosse's 'John Kenyon and his Friends' (in +_Red-Letter Days of My Life_, vol. i.).] + + +_To John Kenyon_ +Wimpole Street: Sunday evening [1838?]. + +My dear Mr. Kenyon,--I am _so_ sorry to hear of your going, and I not +able to say 'good-bye' to you, that--I am _not_ writing this note on +that account. + +It is a begging note, and now I am wondering to myself whether you +will think me very childish or womanish, or silly enough to be both +together (I know your thoughts upon certain parallel subjects), if +I go on to do my begging fully. I hear that you are going to Mr. +Wordsworth's--to Rydal Mount--and I want you to ask _for yourself_, +and then to send to me in a letter--by the post, I mean, two cuttings +out of the garden--of myrtle or geranium; I care very little which, or +what else. Only I say 'myrtle' because it is less given to die and I +say _two_ to be sure of my chances of saving one. Will you? You would +please me very much by doing it; and certainly not _dis_ please me by +refusing to do it. Your broadest 'no' would not sound half so strange +to me as my 'little crooked thing' does to you; but you see everybody +in the world is fanciful about something, and why not _E.B.B._? + +Dear Mr. Kenyon, I have a book of yours--M. Rio's. If you want it +before you go, just write in two words, 'Send it,' or I shall infer +from your silence that I may keep it until you come back. No necessity +for answering this otherwise. Is it as bad as asking for autographs, +or worse? At any rate, believe me _in earnest_ this time--besides +being, with every wish for your enjoyment of mountains and lakes and +'cherry trees,' + +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[May 1838.] + +My dear friend,--I am rather better than otherwise within the last +few days, but fear that nothing will make me essentially so except +the invisible sun. I am, however, a little better, and God's will is +always done in mercy. + +As to the poems, do forgive me, dear Mr. Boyd; and refrain from +executing your cruel threat of suffering 'the desire of reading them +to pass away.' + +I have not one sheet of them; and papa--and, to say the truth, I +myself--would so very much prefer your reading the preface first, that +you must try to indulge us in our phantasy. The book Mr. Bentley half +promises to finish the printing of this week. At any rate it is likely +to be all done in the next: and you may depend upon having a copy _as +soon_ as I have power over one. + +With kind regards to Miss Holmes, +Believe me, your affectionate friend, +E.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street; Wednesday [May 1838]. + +Thank you for your inquiry, my dear friend. I had begun to fancy that +between Saunders and Otley and the 'Seraphim' I had fallen to the +ground of your disfavour. But I do trust to be able to send you a copy +before next Sunday. + +I am thrown back a little just now by having caught a very bad cold, +which has of course affected my cough. The worst seems, however, to be +past, and Dr. Chambers told me yesterday that he expected to see me +in two days nearly as well as before this casualty. And I have been, +thank God, pretty well lately; and although when the stethoscope was +applied three weeks ago, it did not speak very satisfactorily of the +state of the lungs, yet Dr. Chambers seems to be hopeful still, and to +talk of the wonders which the summer sunshine (when it does come) may +be the means of doing for me. And people say that I look rather better +than worse, even now. + +Did you hear of an autograph of Shakespeare's being sold lately for a +very large sum (I _think_ it was above a hundred pounds) on the credit +of its being the only genuine autograph extant? Is yours quite safe? +And are _you_ so, in your opinion of its veritableness? + +I have just finished a very long barbarous ballad for Miss Mitford and +the Finden's tableaux of this year. The title is 'The Romaunt of the +Page,'[37] and the subject not of my own choosing. + +I believe that you will certainly have 'The Seraphim' this week. Do +macadamise the frown from your brow in order to receive them. + +Give my love to Miss Holmes. +Your affectionate friend, +E.B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 37: _Poetical Works_, ii. 40.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +June 7, 1838 [postmark]. + +My dear Mr. Boyd,--Papa is scarcely inclined, nor am I for myself, to +send my book or books to the East Indies. Let them alone, poor things, +until they can walk about a little! and then it will be time enough +for them to 'learn to _fly_.' + +I am so sorry that Emily Harding saw Arabel and went away without this +note, which I have been meaning to write to you for several days, and +have been so absorbed and drawn away (all except my thoughts) by +other things necessary to be done, that I was forced to defer it. My +ballad,[38] containing a ladye dressed up like a page and galloping +off to Palestine in a manner that would scandalise you, went to Miss +Mitford this morning. But I augur from its length that she will not be +able to receive it into Finden. + +Arabel has told me what Miss Harding told her of your being in the act +of going through my 'Seraphim' for the second time. For the feeling +of interest in me which brought this labour upon you, I thank you, my +dear friend. What your opinion _is_, and _will_ be, I am prepared to +hear with a good deal of awe. You will _certainly not approve of the +poem_. + +There now! You see I am prepared. Therefore do not keep back one rough +word, for friendship's sake, but be as honest as--you could not help +being, without this request. + +If I should live, I shall write (_I believe_) better poems than 'The +Seraphim;' which belief will help me to survive the condemnation heavy +upon your lips. + +Affectionately yours, +E.B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 38: 'The Romaunt of the Page.'] + + +'The Seraphim, and other Poems,' a duodecimo of 360 pages, at last +made its appearance at the end of May. At the time of its publication, +English poetry was experiencing one of its periods of ebb between +two flood tides of great achievement. Shelley, Keats, Byron, Scott, +Coleridge were dead; Wordsworth had ceased to produce poetry of the +first order; no fresh inspiration was to be expected from Landor, +Southey, Rogers, Campbell, and such other writers of the Georgian era +as still were numbered with the living. On the other hand, Tennyson, +though already the most remarkable among the younger poets, was still +but exercising himself in the studies in language and metrical music +by which his consummate art was developed; Browning had published only +'Pauline,' 'Paracelsus,' and 'Strafford;' the other poets who have +given distinction to the Victorian age had not begun to write. And +between the veterans of the one generation and the young recruits of +the next there was a singular want of writers of distinction. There +was thus every opportunity for a new poet when Miss Barrett entered +the lists with her first volume of acknowledged verse. + +Its reception, on the whole, does credit alike to its own merits and +to the critics who reviewed it. It does not contain any of those poems +which have proved the most popular among its authoress's complete +works, except 'Cowper's Grave;' but 'The Seraphim' was a poem which +deserved to attract attention, and among the minor poems were 'The +Poet's Vow,' 'Isobel's Child,' 'The Romaunt of Margret,' 'My Doves,' +and 'The Sea-mew.' The volume did not suffice to win any wide +reputation for Miss Barrett, and no second edition was called for; on +the other hand, it was received with more than civility, with genuine +cordiality, by several among the reviewers, though they did not fail +to note its obvious defects. The 'Athenaeum'[39] began its review with +the following declaration: + + This is an extraordinary volume--especially welcome as an + evidence of female genius and accomplishment--but it is hardly + less disappointing than extraordinary. Miss Barrett's genius + is of a high order; active, vigorous, and versatile, but + unaccompanied by discriminating taste. A thousand strange and + beautiful views flit across her mind, but she cannot look on + them with steady gaze; her descriptions, therefore, are + often shadowy and indistinct, and her language wanting in the + simplicity of unaffected earnestness. + +[Footnote 39: July 7, 1838.] + +The 'Examiner,'[40] after quoting at length from the preface and 'The +Seraphim,' continued: + + Who will deny to the writer of such verses as these (and they + are not sparingly met with in the volume) the possession of + many of the highest qualities of the divine art? We regret + to have some restriction to add to an admission we make so + gladly. Miss Barrett is indeed a genuine poetess, of no common + order; yet is she in danger of being spoiled by over-ambition; + and of realising no greater or more final reputation than + a hectical one, like Crashaw's. She has fancy, feeling, + imagination, expression; but for want of some just equipoise + or other, between the material and spiritual, she aims + at flights which have done no good to the strongest, and + therefore falls infinitely short, except in such detached + passages as we have extracted above, of what a proper exercise + of her genius would infallibly reach.... Very various, and + in the main beautiful and true, are the minor poems. But the + entire volume deserves more than ordinary attention. + +[Footnote 40: June 24, 1838.] + +The 'Atlas,'[41] another paper whose literary judgments were highly +esteemed at that date, was somewhat colder, and dwelt more on +the faults of the volume, but added nevertheless that 'there are +occasional passages of great beauty, and full of deep poetical +feeling. In 'The Romaunt of Margret' it detected the influence of +Tennyson--a suggestion which Miss Barrett repudiated rather warmly; +and it concluded with the declaration that the authoress 'possesses +a fine poetical temperament, and has given to the public, in this +volume, a work of considerable merit.' + +[Footnote 41: June 23, 1838.] + +Such were the principal voices among the critical world when Miss +Barrett first ventured into its midst; and she might well be satisfied +with them. Two years later, the 'Quarterly Review'[42] included her +name in a review of 'Modern English Poetesses,' along with Caroline +Norton, 'V.,' and others whose names are even less remembered to-day. +But though the reviewer speaks of her genius and learning in high +terms of admiration, he cannot be said to treat her sympathetically. +He objects to the dogmatic positiveness of her prefaces, and protests +warmly against her 'reckless repetition of the name of God'--a charge +which, in another connection, will be found fully and fairly met in +one of her later letters. On points of technique he criticises +her frequent use of the perfect participle with accented final +syllable--'kissed,' 'bowed,' and the like--and her fondness for the +adverb 'very;' both of which mannerisms he charges to the example of +Tennyson. He condemns the 'Prometheus,' though recognising it as 'a +remarkable performance for a young lady.' He criticises the subject of +'The Seraphim,' 'from which Milton would have shrunk;' but adds, 'We +give Miss Barrett, however, the full credit of a lofty purpose, and +admit, moreover, that several particular passages in her poem +are extremely fine; equally profound in thought and striking in +expression.' He sums up as follows: + +[Footnote 42: September 1840.] + + In a word, we consider Miss Barrett to be a woman of undoubted + genius and most unusual learning; but that she has indulged + her inclination for themes of sublime mystery, not certainly + without displaying great power, yet at the expense of that + clearness, truth, and proportion, which are essential to + beauty; and has most unfortunately fallen into the trammels + of a school or manner of writing, which, of all that ever + existed--Lycophron, Lucan, and Gongora not forgotten--is most + open to the charge of being _vitiis imitabile exemplar_. + +So much for the reception of 'The Seraphim' volume by the outside +world. The letters show how it appeared to the authoress herself. + +The first of them deserves a word of special notice, because it is +likewise the first in these volumes addressed to Miss Mary Russell +Mitford, whose name holds a high and honourable place in the roll +of Miss Barrett's friends. Her own account of the beginning of the +friendship should be quoted in any record of Mrs. Browning's life. + +'My first acquaintance with Elizabeth Barrett commenced about fifteen +years ago.[43] She was certainly one of the most interesting persons +that I had ever seen. Everybody who then saw her said the same; +so that it is not merely the impression of my partiality or my +enthusiasm. Of a slight, delicate figure, with a shower of dark curls +falling on either side of a most expressive face, large tender eyes, +richly fringed by dark eyelashes, a smile like a sunbeam, and such +a look of youthfulness that I had some difficulty in persuading a +friend, in whose carriage we went together to Chiswick, that the +translatress of the "Prometheus" of Aeschylus, the authoress of the +"Essay on Mind," was old enough to be introduced into company, +in technical language, was 'out.' Through the kindness of another +invaluable friend,[44] to whom I owe many obligations, but none so +great as this, I saw much of her during my stay in town. We met so +constantly and so familiarly that, in spite of the difference of +age,[45] intimacy ripened into friendship, and after my return into +the country we corresponded freely and frequently, her letters being +just what letters ought to be--her own talk put upon paper.'[46] + +[Footnote 43: This was written about the end of 1851.] + +[Footnote 44: Probably John Kenyon, whom Miss Mitford elsewhere calls +'the pleasantest man in London;' he, on his side, said of Miss Mitford +that 'she was better and stronger than any of her books.'] + +[Footnote 45: Nineteen years, Miss Mitford having been born in 1787.] + +[Footnote 46: _Recollections of a Literary Life_, by Mary Russell +Mitford, p. 155 (1859).] + +Miss Barrett's letters show how warmly she returned this feeling of +friendship, which lasted until Miss Mitford's death in 1855. Of the +earlier letters many must have disappeared: for it is evident from +Miss Mitford's just quoted words, and also from many references in +her published correspondence, that they were in constant communication +during these years of Miss Barrett's life in London. After her +marriage, however, the extant letters are far more frequent, and will +be found to fill a considerable place in the later pages of this work. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +50 Wimpole Street: Thursday [June 1838]. + +We thank you gratefully, dearest Miss Mitford. Papa and I and all of +us thank you for your more than kindnesses. The extracts were both +gladdening and surprising--and the one the more for being the other +also. Oh! it was _so_ kind of you, in the midst of your multitude of +occupations, to make time (out of love) to send them to us! + +As to the ballad, dearest Miss Mitford, which you and Mr. Kenyon are +indulgent enough to like, remember that he passed his criticism +over it--before it went to you--and so if you did not find as many +obscurities as he did in it, the reason is--_his_ merit and not mine. +But don't believe him--no!--don't believe even Mr. Kenyon--whenever +he says that I am _perversely_ obscure. Unfortunately obscure, not +perversely--that is quite a wrong word. And the last time he used it +to me (and then, I assure you, another word still worse was with it) +I begged him to confine them for the future to his jesting moods. +Because, _indeed_, I am not in the very least degree perverse in this +fault of mine, which is my destiny rather than my choice, and comes +upon me, I think, just where I would eschew it most. So little has +perversity to do with its occurrence, that my fear of it makes me +sometimes feel quite nervous and thought-tied in composition.... + +I have not seen Mr. Kenyon since I wrote last. All last week I was +not permitted to get out of bed, and was haunted with leeches and +blisters. And in the course of it, Lady Dacre was so kind as to call +here, and to leave a note instead of the personal greeting which I was +not able to receive. The honor she did me a year ago, in sending me +her book, encouraged me to offer her my poems. I hesitated about doing +so at first, lest it should appear as if my vanity were dreaming of +a _return_; but Mr. Kenyon's opinion turned the balance. I was very +sorry not to have seen Lady Dacre and have written a reply to her +note expressive of this regret. But, after all, this inaudible voice +(except in its cough) could have scarcely made her understand that I +was obliged by her visit, had I been able to receive it. + +Dr. Chambers has freed me again into the drawing-room, and I am much +better or he would not have done so. There is not, however, much +strength or much health, nor any near prospect of regaining either. +It is well that, in proportion to our feebleness, we may feel our +dependence upon God. + +I feel as if I had not said half, and they have come to ask me if I +have not said _all_! My beloved friend, may you be happy in all ways! + +Do write whenever you wish to talk and have no one to talk to nearer +you than I am! _Indeed_, I did not forget Dr. Mitford when I wrote +those words, although they look like it. + +Your gratefully affectionate +E.B. BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street: Wednesday morning [June 1838]. + +My dear Friend,--Do not think me depraved in ingratitude for not +sooner thanking you for the pleasure, made so much greater by the +surprise, which your note of judgment gave me. The truth is that I +have been very unwell, and delayed answering it immediately until the +painful physical feeling went away to make room for the pleasurable +moral one--and this I fancied it would do every hour, so that I might +be able to tell you at ease all that was in my thoughts. The fancy was +a vain one. The pain grew worse and worse, and Dr. Chambers has been +here for two successive days shaking his head as awfully as if it bore +all Jupiter's ambrosial curls; and is to be here again to-day, but +with, I trust, a less grave countenance, inasmuch as the leeches last +night did their duty, and I feel much better--God be thanked for the +relief. But I am not yet as well as before this attack, and am still +confined to my bed--and so you must rather imagine than read what I +thought and felt in reading your wonderful note. Of course it pleased +me very much, very very much--and, I dare say, would have made me vain +by this time, if it had not been for the opportune pain and the sight +of Dr. Chambers's face. + +I sent a copy of my book to Nelly Bordman _before_ I read your +suggestion. I knew that her kind feeling for me would interest her in +the sight of it. + +Thank you once more, dear Mr. Boyd! May all my critics be gentle after +the pattern of your gentleness! + +Believe me, affectionately yours, +E.B. BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street: June 17 [1838]. + +My dear Friend,--I send you a number of the 'Atlas' which you may +keep. It is a favorable criticism, certainly--but I confess this of my +vanity, that it has not altogether pleased me. You see what it is to +be spoilt. + +As to the 'Athenaeum,' although I am _not_ conscious of the quaintness +and mannerism laid to my charge, and am very sure that I have always +written too naturally (that is, too much from the impulse of thought +and feeling) to have studied '_attitudes_,' yet the critic was quite +right in stating his opinion, and so am I in being grateful to him for +the liberal praise he has otherwise given me. Upon the whole, I like +his review better than even the 'Examiner,' notwithstanding my being +perfectly satisfied with _that_. + +Thank you for the question about my health. I am very tolerably +well--for _me_: and am said to look better. At the same time I am +aware of being always on the verge of an increase of illness--I mean, +in a very excitable state--with a pulse that flies off at a word +and is only to be caught by digitalis. But I am better--for the +present--while the sun shines. + +Thank you besides for your criticisms, which I shall hold in memory, +and use whenever I am not particularly _obstinate_, in all my +SUCCEEDING EDITIONS! + +You will smile at that, and so do _I._ + +Arabel is walking in the Zoological Gardens with the Cliffes--but I +think you will see her before long. + +Your affectionate friend, +E.B. BARRETT. + +Don't let me forget to mention the Essays[47]. You shall have +yours--and Miss Bordman hers--and the delay has not arisen from either +forgetfulness or indifference on my part--although I never deny that +I don't like giving the Essay to anybody because I don't like it. +Now that sounds just like 'a woman's reason,' but it isn't, albeit so +reasonable! I meant to say 'because I don't like the ESSAY.' + +[Footnote 47: i.e. copies of the _Essay on Mind_.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street: Thursday, June 21 [1838]. + +My dear Friend,--Notwithstanding this silence so ungrateful in +appearance, I thank you at last, and very sincerely, for your kind +letter. It made me laugh, and amused me--and gratified me besides. +Certainly your 'quality of mercy is not strained.' + +My reason for not writing more immediately is that Arabel has meant, +day after day, to go to you, and has had a separate disappointment for +every day. She says now, '_Indeed_, I hope to see Mr. Boyd to-morrow.' +But _I_ say that I will not keep this answer of mine to run the risk +of another day's contingencies, and that _it_ shall go, whether _she_ +does or not. + +I am better a great deal than I was last week, and have been allowed +by Dr. Chambers to come downstairs again, and occupy my old place +on the sofa. My health remains, however, in what I cannot help +considering myself, and in what, I _believe_, Dr. Chambers considers, +a very precarious state, and my weakness increases, of course, under +the remedies which successive attacks render necessary. Dr. Chambers +deserves my confidence--and besides the skill with which he has met +the different modifications of the complaint, I am grateful to him +for a feeling and a sympathy which are certainly rare in such of his +profession as have their attention diverted, as his must be, by an +immense practice, to fifty objects in a day. But, notwithstanding all, +one breath of the east wind undoes whatever he labours to do. It is +well to look up and remember that in the eternal reality these second +causes are no causes at all. + +Don't leave this note about for Arabel to see. I am anxious not to +alarm her, or any one of my family: and it may please God to make me +as well and strong again as ever. And, indeed, I am twice as well this +week as I was last. + +Your affectionate friend, dear Mr. Boyd, +E.B. BARRETT. + +I have seen an extract from a private letter of Mr. Chorley, editor +of the 'Athenaeum,'[48] which speaks _huge_ praises of my poems. If he +were to say a tithe of them in print, it would be nine times above my +expectation! + +[Footnote 48: This is an error. Mr. Chorley was not editor of the +_Athenaeum_, though he was one of its principal contributors.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[June 1838.] + +My dear Friend,--I begged your servant to wait--how long ago I am +afraid to think--but certainly I must not make this note very long. I +did intend to write to you to-day in any case. Since Saturday I have +had my thanks ready at the end of my fingers waiting to slide along +to the nib of my pen. Thank you for all your kindness and criticism, +which is kindness too--thank you at last. Would that I deserved the +praises as well as I do most of the findings-fault--and there is no +time now to say more of _them_. Yet I believe I have something to say, +and will find a time to say it in. + +Dr. Chambers has just been here, and does not think me quite as well +as usual. The truth is that I was rather excited and tired yesterday +by rather too much talking and hearing talking, and suffer for it +to-day in my _pulse_. But I am better on the whole. + +Mr. Cross,[49] the great lion, the insect-making lion, came yesterday +with Mr. Kenyon, and afterwards Lady Dacre. She is kind and gentle in +her manner. She told me that she had 'placed my book in the hands of +Mr. Bobus Smith, the brother of Sidney Smith, and the best judge +in England,' and that it was to be returned to her on Tuesday. If I +_should_ hear the 'judgment,' I will tell you, whether you care to +hear it or not. There is no other review, as far as I am aware. + +Give my love to Miss Bordman. When is she coming to see me? + +The thunder did not do me any harm. + +Your affectionate friend, in great haste, although your servant is not +likely to think so, E.B.B. + +[Footnote 49: Andrew Crosse, the electrician, who had recently +published his observations of a remarkable development of insect life +in connection with certain electrical experiments--a discovery which +caused much controversy at the time, on account of its supposed +bearings on the origin of life and the doctrine of creation.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[June 1838.] + +My dear Friend,--You must let me _feel_ my thanks to you, even when +I do not _say_ them. I have put up your various notes together, and +perhaps they may do me as much good hereafter, as they have already, +for the most part, given me pleasure. + +The 'burden pure _have_ been' certainly was a misprint, as certainly +'nor man nor nature satisfy'[50] is ungrammatical. But I am _not_ so +sure about the passage in Isobel: + +I am not used to tears at nights Instead of slumber--nor to prayer. + +Now I think that the passage may imply a repetition of the words with +which it begins, after 'nor'--thus--'nor _am I used_ to prayer,' &c. +Either you or I may be right about it, and either 'or' or 'nor' may be +grammatical. At least, so I pray.[51] + +You did not answer one question. Do you consider that '_apolyptic_' +stands without excuse?[52] + +I never read Greek to any person except yourself and Mr. MacSwiney, +my brother's tutor. To him I read longer than a few weeks, but then +it was rather guessing and stammering and tottering through parts of +Homer and extracts from Xenophon than reading. _You_ would not have +called it reading if you had heard it. + +I studied hard by myself afterwards, and the kindness with which +afterwards still you assisted me, if yourself remembers gladly _I_ +remember _gratefully_ and gladly. + +I have just been told that your servant was desired by you _not to +wait a minute_. + +The wind is unfavorable for the sea. I do not think there is the least +probability of my going before the end of next week, if then. You +shall hear. + +Affectionately yours, +E.B. BARRETT. + +I am tolerably well. I have been forced to take digitalis again, which +makes me feel weak; but still I am better, I think. + +[Footnote 50: Altered in later editions to 'satisfies.'] + +[Footnote 51: In later editions 'not' is repeated instead of 'nor,' +which looks like a compromise between her own opinion and Mr. Boyd's.] + +[Footnote 52: The poem entitled 'Sounds,' in the volume of 1838, +contained the line 'As erst in Patmos apolyptic John,' presumably for +'apocalyptic.' This being naturally held to be 'without excuse,' +the line was altered in subsequent editions to 'As the seer-saint of +Patmos, loving John.'] + + +In the course of this year the failure in Miss Barrett's health had +become so great that her doctor advised removal to a warmer climate +for the winter. Torquay was the place selected, and thither she +went in the autumn, accompanied by her brother Edward, her favourite +companion from childhood. Other members of the family, including Mr. +Barrett, joined them from time to time. At Torquay she was able to +live, but no more, and it was found necessary for her to stay during +the summers as well as the winters of the next three years. Letters +from this period are scarce, though it is clear from Miss Mitford's +correspondence that a continuous interchange of letters was kept up +between the two friends, and her acquaintanceship with Horne was now +ripening into a close literary intimacy. A story relating to Bishop +Phillpotts of Exeter, the hero of so many racy anecdotes, is contained +in a letter of Miss Barrett's which must have been written about +Christmas of either 1838 or 1839:-- + +'He [the bishop] was, however, at church on Christmas Day, and upon +Mr. Elliot's being mercifully inclined to omit the Athanasian Creed, +prompted him most episcopally from the pew with a "whereas;" and +further on in the Creed, when the benign reader substituted the +word _condemnation_ for the terrible one--"Damnation!" exclaimed the +bishop. The effect must have been rather startling.' + +A slight acquaintance with the words of the Athanasian Creed will +suggest that the story had suffered in accuracy before it reached Miss +Barrett, who, of course, was unable to attend church, and whose own +ignorance on the subject may be accounted for by remembering that +she had been brought up as a Nonconformist. With a little correction, +however, the story may be added to the many others on record with +respect to 'Henry of Exeter.' + +The following letter is shown, by the similarity of its contents +to the one which succeeds it, to belong to November 1839, when Miss +Barrett was entering on her second winter in Torquay. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Beacon Terrace, Torquay: November 24 [1839]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Henrietta _shall not_ write to-day, whatever +she may wish to do. I felt, in reading your unreproaching letter +to her, as self-reproachful as anybody could with a great deal of +innocence (in the way of the world) to fall back upon. I felt sorry, +very sorry, not to have written something to you something sooner, +which was a possible thing--although, since the day of my receiving +your welcome letter, I have written scarcely at all, nor that little +without much exertion. Had it been with me as usual, be sure that +you should not have had any silence to complain of. Henrietta knew I +wished to write, and felt, I suppose, unwilling to take my place when +my filling it myself before long appeared possible. A long story--and +not as entertaining as Mother Hubbard. But I would rather tire +you than leave you under any wrong impression, where my regard and +thankfulness to you, dearest Mrs. Martin, are concerned. + +To reply to your kind anxiety about me, I may call myself decidedly +better than I have been. Since October I I have not been out of +bed--except just for an hour a day, when I am lifted to the sofa with +the bare permission of my physician--who tells me that it is so much +easier to make me worse than better, that he dares not permit anything +like exposure or further exertion. I like him (Dr. Scully) very +much, and although he evidently thinks my case in the highest degree +precarious, yet knowing how much I bore last winter and understanding +from him that the worst _tubercular_ symptoms have not actually +appeared, I am willing to think it may be God's will to keep me here +still longer. I would willingly stay, if it were only for the sake of +that tender affection of my beloved family which it so deeply affects +me to consider. Dearest papa is with us now--to my great comfort +and joy: and looking very well!--and astonishing everybody with his +eternal youthfulness! Bro and Henrietta and Arabel besides, I can +count as companions--and then there is dear Bummy! We are fixed at +Torquay for the winter--that is, until the end of May: and after that, +if I have any will or power and am alive to exercise either, I do +trust and hope to go away. The death of my kind friend Dr. Bury +was, as you suppose, a great grief and shock to me. How could it be +otherwise, after his daily kindness to me for a year? And then his +young wife and child--and the rapidity (a three weeks' illness) with +which he was hurried away from the energies and toils and honors of +professional life to the stillness of _that_ death! + +'_God's Will_' is the only answer to the mystery of the world's +afflictions.... + +Don't fancy me worse than I am--or that this bed-keeping is the result +of a gradual sinking. It is not so. A feverish attack prostrated me +on October 2--and such will leave their effects--and Dr. Scully is so +afraid of leading me into danger by saying, 'You may get up and dress +as usual' that you should not be surprised if (in virtue of being the +senior Torquay physician and correspondingly prudent) he left me +in this durance vile for a great part of the winter. I am decidedly +better than I was a month ago, really and truly. + +May God bless you, dearest Mrs. Martin! My best and kindest regards +to Mr. Martin. Henrietta desires me to promise for her a letter to +Colwall soon; but I think that one from Colwall should come first. May +God bless you! Bro's fancy just now is painting in water colours and +he performs many sketches. Do you ever in your dreams of universal +benevolence dream of travelling into Devonshire? + +Love your affectionate BA, + +--found guilty of egotism and stupidity 'by this sign' and at once! + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +1 Beacon Terrace, Torquay: +Wednesday, November 27, 1839. + +If you can forgive me, my ever dear friend, for a silence which has +not been intended, there will be another reason for being thankful to +you, in addition to the many. To do myself justice, one of my earliest +impulses on seeing my beloved Arabel, and recurring to the kindness +with which you desired that happiness for me long before I possessed +it, was to write and tell you how happy I felt. But she had promised, +she said, to write herself, and moreover she and only she was to send +you the ballad--in expectation of your dread judgment upon which I +delayed my own writing. It came in the first letter we received in our +new house, on the first of last October. An hour after reading it, I +was upon my bed; was attacked by fever in the night, and from that +bed have never even been lifted since--to these last days of +November--except for one hour a day to the sofa at two yards' +distance. I am very much better now, and have been so for some time; +but my physician is so persuaded, he says, that it is easier to do +me harm than good, that he will neither permit any present attempt at +further exertion, nor hint at the time when it may be advisable for +him to permit it. Under the circumstances it has of course been more +difficult than usual for me to write. Pray believe, my dear and kind +friend, in the face of all circumstances and appearances, that I never +forget you, nor am reluctant (oh, how could that be?) to write to you; +and that you shall often have to pay 'a penny for my thoughts' under +the new Postage Act--if it be in God's wisdom and mercy to spare me +through the winter. Under the new act I shall not mind writing ten +words and then stopping. As it is, they would scarcely be worth eleven +pennies. + +Thank you again and again for your praise of the ballad, which both +delighted and _surprised_ me ... as I had scarcely hoped that you +might like it at all. Think of Mr. Tilt's never sending me a proof +sheet. The consequences are rather deplorable, and, if they had +occurred to you, might have suggested a deep melancholy for life. +In my case, _I_, who am, you know, hardened to sins of carelessness, +simply look _aghast_ at the misprints and mispunctuations coming in as +a flood, and sweeping away meanings and melodies together. The annual +itself is more splendid than usual, and its vignettes have illustrated +my story--angels, devils and all--most beautifully. Miss Mitford's +tales (in prose) have suffered besides by reason of Mr. Tilt--but are +attractive and graphic notwithstanding--and Mr. Horne has supplied a +dramatic poem of great power and beauty. + +How I rejoice with you in the glorious revelation (about to be) of +Gregory's second volume! The 'De Virginitate' poem will, in its new +purple and fine linen, be more dazzling than ever. + +Do you know that George is barrister-at-law of the Inner Temple--_is_? +I have seen him gazetted. + +My dearest papa is with me now, making me very happy of course. I have +much reason to be happy--more to be grateful--yet am more obedient +to the former than to the latter impulse. May the Giver of good +give gratitude with as full a hand! May He bless _you_--and bring us +together again, if no more in the flesh, yet in the spirit! + +Your ever affectionate friend, +E.B. BARRETT. + +Do write--when you are able and _least_ disinclined. Do you approve of +Prince Albert or not?[53] + +[Footnote 53: The engagement of Prince Albert to Queen Victoria took +place in October 1839.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Torquay: May 29, 1840. + +My ever dear Friend,--It was very pleasant to me to see your seal +upon a letter once more; and although the letter itself left me with +a mournful impression of your having passed some time so much less +happily than I would wish and pray for you, yet there remains the +pleasant thought to me still that you have not altogether forgotten +me. Do receive the expression of my most affectionate sympathy under +this and every circumstance--and I fear that the shock to your nerves +and spirits could not be a light one, however impressed you might be +and must be with the surety and verity of God's love working in all +His will. Poor poor Patience! Coming to be so happy with you, with +that joyous smile I thought so pretty! Do you not remember my telling +you so? Well--it is well and better for her; happier for her, if God +in Christ Jesus have received her, than her hopes were of the holiday +time with you. The holiday is _for ever_ now.... + +I heard from Nelly Bordman only a few days before receiving your +letter, and so far from preparing me for all this sadness and +gloom, she pleased me with her account of you whom she had lately +seen--dwelling upon your retrograde passage into youth, and the +delight you were taking in the presence and society of some still +more youthful, fair, and gay _monstrum amandum_, some prodigy of +intellectual accomplishment, some little Circe who never turned +anybodies into pigs. I learnt too from her for the first time that you +were settled at Hampstead! Whereabout at Hampstead, and for how long? +She didn't tell me _that_, thinking of course that I knew something +more about you than I do. Yes indeed; you _do_ treat me very shabbily. +I agree with you in thinking so. To think that so many hills and woods +should interpose between us--that I should be lying here, fast bound +by a spell, a sleeping beauty in a forest, and that _you_, who used +to be such a doughty knight, should not take the trouble of cutting +through even a hazel tree with your good sword, to find out what +had become of me. Now do tell me, the hazel tree being down at last, +whether you mean to live at Hampstead, whether you have taken a +house there and have carried your books there, and wear Hampstead +grasshoppers in your bonnet (as they did at Athens) to prove yourself +of the soil. + +All this nonsense will make you think I am better, and indeed I am +pretty well just now--quite, however, confined to the bed--except when +lifted from it to the sofa baby-wise while they make it; even then +apt to faint. Bad symptoms too do not leave me; and I am obliged to be +blistered every few days--but I am free from any attack just now, and +am a good deal less feverish than I am occasionally. There has been +a consultation between an Exeter physician and my own, and they agree +exactly, both hoping that with care I shall pass the winter, and rally +in the spring, both hoping that I may be able to go about again with +some comfort and independence, although I never can be fit again for +anything like exertion.... + +Do you know, did you ever hear anything of Mr. Horne who wrote 'Cosmo +de Medici,' and the 'Death of Marlowe,' and is now desecrating his +powers (I beg your pardon) by writing the life of Napoleon? By the +way, he is the author of a dramatic sketch in the last Finden. + +He is in my mind one of the very first poets of the day, and has +written to me so kindly (offering, although I never saw him in my +life, to cater for me in literature, and send me down anything likely +to interest me in the periodicals), that I cannot but think his +amiability and genius do honor to one another. + + +Do you remember Mr. Caldicott who used to preach in the infant +schoolroom at Sidmouth? He died here the death of a saint, as he had +lived a saintly life, about three weeks ago. It affected me a good +deal. But he was always so associated in my thoughts more with heaven +than earth, that scarcely a transition seems to have passed upon his +locality. 'Present with the Lord' is true of him now; even as 'having +his conversation in heaven' was formerly. There is little difference. + +May it be so with us all, with you and with me, my ever and very dear +friend! In the meantime do not forget me. I never can forget _you_. + +Your affectionate and grateful +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +Arabel desires her love to be offered to you. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +1 Beacon Terrace, Torquay: July 8, 1840. + +My ever dear Friend,--I must write to you, although it is so very +long, or at least seems so, since you wrote to me. But you say to +Arabel in speaking of me that I '_used_ to care for what is poetical;' +therefore, perhaps you say to yourself sometimes that I _used_ to +care for _you_! I am anxious to vindicate my identity to you, in that +respect above all. + +It is a long, dreary time since I wrote to you. I admit the pause on +my own part, while I charge you with another. But _your_ silence has +embraced more pleasantness and less suffering to you than mine has to +me, and I thank God for a prosperity in which my unchangeable regard +for you causes me to share directly.... + +I have not rallied this summer as soon and well as I did last. I was +very ill early in April at the time of our becoming conscious to our +great affliction--so ill as to believe it utterly improbable, speaking +humanly, that I ever should be any better. I am, however, a very great +deal better, and gain strength by sensible degrees, however slowly, +and do hope for the best--'the best' meaning one sight more of London. +In the meantime I have not yet been able to leave my bed. + +To prove to you that I who 'used to care' for poetry do so still, and +that I have not been absolutely idle lately, an 'Athenaeum' shall +be sent to you containing a poem on the subject of the removal of +Napoleon's ashes.[54] It is a fitter subject for you than for me. +Napoleon is no idol of _mine. I_ never made a 'setting sun' of him. +But my physician suggested the subject as a noble one and then there +was something suggestive in the consideration that the 'Bellerophon' +lay on those very bay-waters opposite to my bed. + +Another poem (which you won't like, I dare say) is called 'The Lay of +the Rose,'[55] and appeared lately in a magazine. Arabel is going to +write it out for you, she desires me to tell you with her best love. +Indeed, I have written lately (as far as manuscript goes) a good deal, +only on all sorts of subjects and in as many shapes. + +Lazarus would make a fine poem, wouldn't he? I lie here, weaving a +great many schemes. I am seldom at a loss for thread. + +Do write sometimes to me, and tell me if you do anything besides +hearing the clocks strike and bells ring. My beloved papa is with me +still. There are so many mercies close around me (and his presence +is far from the least), that God's _Being_ seems proved to me, +_demonstrated_ to me, by His manifested love. May His blessing in +the full lovingness rest upon you always! Never fancy I can forget or +think of you coldly. + +Your affectionate and grateful +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 54: 'Crowned and Buried' _(Poetical Works_, iii. 9).] + +[Footnote 55: _Poetical Works_, iii. 152.] + + +The above letter was written only three days before the tragedy which +utterly wrecked Elizabeth Barrett's life for a time, and cast a +deep shadow over it which never wholly passed away--the death of her +brother Edward through drowning. On July 11, he and two friends had +gone for a sail in a small boat. They did not return when they were +expected, and presently a rumour came that a boat, answering in +appearance to theirs, had been seen to founder in Babbicombe Bay; +but it was not until three days later that final confirmation of the +disaster was obtained by the discovery of the bodies. What this blow +meant to the bereaved sister cannot be told: the horror with which she +refers to it, even at a distance of many years, shows how deeply it +struck. It was the loss of the brother whom she loved best of all; and +she had the misery of thinking that it was to attend on her that he +had come to the place where he met his death. Little wonder if Torquay +was thenceforward a memory from which she shrank, and if even the +sound of the sea became a horror to her. + +One natural consequence of this terrible sorrow is a long break in her +correspondence. It is not until the beginning of 1841 that she seems +to have resumed the thread of her life and to have returned to her +literary occupations. Her health had inevitably suffered under the +shock, and in the autumn of 1840 Miss Mitford speaks of not daring to +expect more than a few months of lingering life. But when things were +at the worst, she began unexpectedly to take a turn for the better. +Through the winter she slowly gathered strength, and with strength the +desire to escape from Torquay, with its dreadful associations, and +to return to London. Meanwhile her correspondence with her friends +revived, and with Horne in particular she was engaged during 1841 in +an active interchange of views with regard to two literary projects. +Indeed, it was only the return to work that enabled her to struggle +against the numbing effect of the calamity which had overwhelmed her. +Some time afterwards (in October 1843) she wrote to Mrs. Martin: +'For my own part and experience--I do not say it as a phrase or +in exaggeration, but from very clear and positive conviction--I do +believe that I should be _mad_ at this moment, if I had not forced +back--dammed out--the current of rushing recollections by work, work, +work.' One of the projects in which she was concerned was 'Chaucer +Modernised,' a scheme for reviving interest in the father of English +poetry, suggested in the first instance by Wordsworth, but committed +to the care of Horne, as editor, for execution. According to the +scheme as originally planned, all the principal poets of the day were +to be invited to share the task of transmuting Chaucer into modern +language. Wordsworth, Leigh Hunt, Horne, and others actually executed +some portions of the work; Tennyson and Browning, it was hoped, would +lend a hand with some of the later parts. Horne invited Miss Barrett +to contribute, and, besides executing modernisations of 'Queen +Annelida and False Arcite' and 'The Complaint of Annelida,'[56] she +also advised generally on the work of the other writers during its +progress through the press. The other literary project was for a +lyrical drama, to be written in collaboration with Horne. It was to be +called 'Psyché Apocalypté,' and was to be a drama on the Greek model, +treating of the birth and self-realisation of the soul of man. + +[Footnote 56: These versions are not reprinted in her collected +_Poetical Works_, but are to be found in 'Poems of Geoffrey Chaucer +modernised,' (1841).] + +The sketch of its contents, given in the correspondence with Horne, +will make the modern reader accept with equanimity the fact that it +never progressed beyond the initial stage of drafting the plot. It is +allegorical, philosophical, fantastic, unreal--everything which was +calculated to bring out the worst characteristics of Miss Barrett's +style and to intensify her faults. Fortunately her removal from +Torquay to London interrupted the execution of the scheme. It +was never seriously taken up again, and, though never explicitly +abandoned, died a natural death from inanition, somewhat to the relief +of Miss Barrett, who had come to recognise its impracticability. + +Apart from the correspondence with Horne, which has been published +elsewhere, very few letters are left from this period; but those which +here follow serve to bridge over the interval until the departure +from Torquay, which closes one well-marked period in the life of the +poetess. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +December 11, 1840. + +My ever dearest Mrs. Martin,--I should have written to you without +this last proof of your remembrance--this cape, which, warm and pretty +as it is, I value so much more as the work of your hands and gift of +your affection towards me. Thank you, dearest Mrs. Martin, and thank +you too for _all the rest_--for all your sympathy and love. And do +believe that although grief had so changed me from myself and warped +me from my old instincts, as to prevent my looking forwards with +pleasure to seeing you again, yet that full amends are made in the +looking back with a pleasure more true because more tender than any +old retrospections. Do give my love to dear Mr. Martin, and say what I +could not have said even if I had seen him. + +Shall you really, dearest Mrs. Martin, come again? Don't think we do +not think of the hope you left us. Because we do indeed. + +A note from papa has brought the comforting news that my dear, dear +Stormie is in England again, in London, and looking perfectly well. It +is a mercy which makes me very thankful, and would make me joyful if +anything could. But the meanings of some words change as we live on. +Papa's note is hurried. It was a sixty-day passage, and that is all he +tells me. Yes--there is something besides about Sette and Occy being +either unknown or misknown, through the fault of their growing. Papa +is not near returning, I think. He has so much to do and see, and so +much cause to be enlivened and renewed as to spirits, that I begged +him not to think about me and stay away as long as he pleased. And the +accounts of him and of all at home are satisfying, I thank God.... + +There is an east wind just now, which I feel. Nevertheless, Dr. Scully +has said, a few minutes since, that I am as well as he could hope, +considering the season. + +May God bless you ever! +Your gratefully attached +BA. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +March 29, 1841. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Have you thought 'The dream has come true'? +I mean the dream of the flowers which you pulled for me and I wouldn't +look at, even? I fear you must have thought that the dream about my +ingratitude has come true. + +And yet it has not. Dearest Mrs. Martin, it has _not_. I have not +forgotten you or remembered you less affectionately through all the +silence, or longed less for the letters I did not ask for. But the +truth is, my faculties seem to hang heavily now, like flappers when +the spring is broken. _My_ spring _is_ broken, and a separate exertion +is necessary for the lifting up of each--and then it falls down again. +I never felt so before: there is no wonder that I should feel so now. +Nevertheless, I don't give up much to the pernicious languor--the +tendency to lie down to sleep among the snows of a weary journey--I +don't give up much to it. Only I find it sometimes at the root of +certain negligences--for instance, of this toward _you_. + +Dearest Mrs. Martin, receive my sympathy, _our_ sympathy, in the +anxiety you have lately felt so painfully, and in the rejoicing for +its happy issue. Do say when you write (I take for granted, you see, +that you will write) how Mrs. B---- is now--besides the intelligence +more nearly touching me, of your own and Mr. Martin's health and +spirits. May God bless you both! + +Ah! but you did not come: I was disappointed! + +And Mrs. Hanford! Do you know, I tremble in my reveries sometimes, +lest you should think it, guess it to be half unkind in me not to have +made an exertion to see Mrs. Hanford. It was not from want of interest +in her--least of all from want of love to _you_. But I have not +stirred from my bed yet. But, to be honest, that was not the reason--I +did not feel as if I _could_, without a painful effort, which, on the +other hand, could not, I was conscious, result in the slightest shade +of satisfaction to her, receive and talk to her. Perhaps it is hard +for you to _fancy_ even how I shrink away from the very thought of +seeing a human face--except those immediately belonging to me in love +or relationship--(yours _does_, you know)--and a stranger's might be +easier to look at than one long known.... + +For my own part, my dearest Mrs. Martin, my heart has been lightened +lately by kind, _honest_ Dr. Scully (who would never give an opinion +just to please me), saying that I am 'quite right' to mean to go to +London, and shall probably be fit for the journey early in June. +He says that I may pass the winter there moreover, and with +impunity--that wherever I am it will probably be necessary for me +to remain shut up during the cold weather, and that under such +circumstances it is quite possible to warm a London room to as safe +a condition as a room _here_. So my heart is lightened of the fear +of opposition: and the only means of regaining whatever portion of +earthly happiness is not irremediably lost to me by the Divine decree, +I am free to use. In the meantime, it really does seem to me that I +make some progress in health--if the word in my lips be not a mockery. +Oh, I fancy I shall be strengthened to get home! + +Your remarks on Chaucer pleased me very much. I am glad you liked what +I did--or tried to do--and as to the criticisms, you were right--and +they sha'n't be unattended to if the opportunity of correction be +given to me. + +Ever your affectionate +BA. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +August 28, 1841. + +My very dear Friend,--I have fluctuated from one shadow of uncertainty +and anxiety to another, all the summer, on the subject to which my +last earthly wishes cling, and I delayed writing to you to be able to +say I am going to London. I may say so now--as far as the human may +say 'yes' or 'no' of their futurity. The carriage, a patent carriage +with a bed in it, and set upon some hundreds of springs, is, I +believe, on its road down to me, and immediately upon its arrival +we begin our journey. Whether we shall ever complete it remains +uncertain--_more_ so than other uncertainties. My physician appears a +good deal alarmed, calls it an undertaking full of hazard, and myself +the 'Empress Catherine' for insisting upon attempting it. But I must. +I go, as 'the doves to their windows,' to the only earthly daylight I +see here. I go to rescue myself from the associations of this dreadful +place. I go to restore to my poor papa the companionships family. +Enough has been done and suffered for _me_. I thank God I am going +home at last. + +How kind it was in you, my very kind and ever very dear friend, to ask +me to visit you at Hampstead! I felt myself smiling while I read that +part of your letter, and laid it down and suffered the vision to arise +of your little room and your great Gregory and your dear self scolding +me softly as in the happy olden times for not reading slow enough. +Well--we do not know what _may_ happen! I _may_ (even that is +probable) read to you again. But now--ah, my dear friend--if you could +imagine me such as I am!--you would not think I could visit you! Yet +I am wonderfully better this summer; and if I can but reach home +and bear the first painful excitement, it will do me more good than +anything--I know it will! And if it does not, it will be _well_ even +so. + +I shall tell them to send you the 'Athenaeum' of last week, where I +have a 'House of Clouds,'[57] which papa likes so much that he would +wish to live in it if it were not for the damp. There is not a clock +in one room--that's another objection. How are your clocks? Do they +go? and do you like their voices as well as you used to do? + +I think Annie is not with you; but in case of her still being so, do +give her (and yourself too) Arabel's love and mine. I wish I heard of +you oftener. Is there nobody to write? May God bless you! + +Your ever affectionate friend, +E.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +August 31, 1831 [_sic_]. + +Thank you, my ever dear friend, with almost my last breath at Torquay, +for your kindness about the Gregory, besides the kind note itself. It +is, however, too late. We go, or mean at present to go, to-morrow; +and the carriage which is to waft us through the air upon a thousand +springs has actually arrived. You are not to think severely upon Dr. +Scully's candour with me as to the danger of the journey. He _does_ +think it 'likely to do me harm;' therefore, you know, he was justified +by his medical responsibility in laying before me all possible +consequences. I have considered them all, and dare them gladly and +gratefully. Papa's domestic comfort is broken up by the separation in +his family, and the associations of this place lie upon me, struggle +as I may, like the oppression of a perpetual night-mare. It is an +instinct of self-preservation which impels me to escape--or to try +to escape. And In God's mercy--though God forbid that I should deny +either His mercy or His justice, if He should deny me--we may be +together in Wimpole Street in a few days. Nelly Bordman has kindly +written to me Mr. Jago's favourable opinion of the patent carriages, +and his conviction of my accomplishing the journey without +inconvenience. + +May God bless you, my dear dear friend! Give my love to dearest Annie! +Perhaps, if I am ever really in Wimpole Street, _safe enough for +Greek_, you will trust the poems to me which you mention. I care as +much for poetry as ever, and could not more. + +Your affectionate and grateful +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 57: _Poetical Works_, iii. 186.] + + + + +CHAPTER III + +1841-1843 + + +In September 1841 the journey from Torquay was actually achieved, and +Miss Barrett returned to her father's house in London, from which she +was never to be absent for more than a few hours at a time until the +day, five years later, when she finally left it to join her husband, +Robert Browning. Her life was that of an invalid, confined to her room +for the greater part of each year, and unable to see any but a +few intimate friends. Still, she regained some sort of strength, +especially during the warmth of the summer months, and was able to +throw herself with real interest into literary work. In a life such +as this there are few outward events to record, and its story is best +told in Miss Barrett's own letters, which, for the most part, need +little comment. The letters of the end of 1841 and beginning of 1842 +are almost entirely written to Mr. Boyd, and the main subject of them +is the series of papers on the Greek Christian poets and the English +poets which, at the suggestion of Mr. Dilke, then editor of the +'Athenaeum,' she contributed to that periodical. Of the composition of +original poetry we hear less at this time. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street: October 2, 1841. + +My very dear Friend,--I thank you for the letter and books which +crossed the threshold of this house before me, and looked like your +welcome to me home. I have read the passages you wished me to read--I +have read them _again_: for I remember reading them under your star +(or the greater part of them) a long while ago. You, on the other +hand, may remember of _me_, that I never could concede to you much +admiration for your Gregory as a poet--not even to his grand work 'De +Virginitate.' He is one of those writers, of whom there are instances +in our own times, who are only poetical in prose. + +The passage imitative of Chryses I cannot think much of. Try to be +forgiving. It is toasted dry between the two fires of the Scriptures +and Homer, and is as stiff as any dry toast out of the simile. To be +sincere, I like dry toast better. + +The Hymns and Prayers I very much prefer; and although I remembered a +good deal about them, it has given me a pleasure you will approve of +to go through them in this edition. The one which I like best, which I +like far best, which I think worth all the rest ('De Virginitate' +and all put together), is the _second_ upon page 292, beginning 'Soi +charis.' It is very fine, I think, written out of the heart and for +the heart, warm with a natural heat, and not toasted dry and brown and +stiff at a fire by any means. + +Dear Mr. Boyd, I coveted Arabel's walk to you the other day. I shall +often covet my neighbour's walks, I believe, although (and may God be +praised for it!) I am more happy--that is, nearing to the feeling of +happiness now--than a month since I could believe possible to a heart +so bruised and crushed as mine has [been] be at home is a blessing and +a relief beyond what these words can say. + +But, dear Mr. Boyd, you said something in a note to Arabel some little +time ago, which I will ask of your kindness to avoid saying again. I +have been through the whole summer very much better; and even if it +were not so I should dread being annoyed by more medical speculations. +Pray do not suggest any. I am not in a state to admit of experiments, +and my case is a very clear and simple one. I have not _one symptom_ +like those of my old illness; and after more than fifteen years' +absolute suspension of them, their recurrence is scarcely probable. My +case is very clear: not tubercular consumption, not what is called a +'decline,' but an affection of the lungs which leans towards it. You +know a blood-vessel broke three years ago, and I never quite got over +it. Mr. Jago, not having seen me, could scarcely be justified in a +conjecture of the sort, when the opinions of four able physicians, +two of them particularly experienced in diseases of the chest, and +the other two the most eminent of the faculty in the east and west of +England, were decided and contrary, while coincident with each other. +Besides, you see, I am becoming better--and I could not desire more +than that. Dear Mr. Boyd, do not write a word about it any more, +either to me or others. I am sure you would not willingly disturb me. +Nelly Bordman is good and dear, but I can't let her prescribe for me +anything except her own affection. + +I hope Arabel expressed for me my thankful sense of Mrs. Smith's kind +intention. But, indeed, although I would see _you_, dear Mr. Boyd, +gladly, or an angel or a fairy or any very particular friend, I am +not fit either in body or spirit for general society. I _can't_ see +people, and if I could it would be very bad for me. Is Mrs. Smith +writing? Are you writing? Part of me is worn out; but the poetical +part--that is, the _love_ of poetry--is growing in me as freshly and +strongly as if it were watered every day. Did anybody ever love it and +stop in the middle? I wonder if anybody ever did?... Believe me your +affectionateE.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street: December 29, 1841. + +My dear Friend,--I should not have been half as idle about +transcribing these translations[58] if I had fancied you could care so +much to have them as Arabel tells me you do. They are recommended to +your mercy, O Greek Daniel! The _last_ sounds in my ears most like +English poetry; but I assure you I took the least pains with it. The +second is obscure as its original, if it do not (as it does not) equal +it otherwise. The first is yet more unequal to the Greek. I praised +that Greek poem above all of Gregory's, for the reason that it has +_unity and completeness_, for which, to speak generally, you may +search the streets and squares and alleys of Nazianzum in vain. Tell +me what you think of my part. + +Ever affectionately yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +Have you a Plotinus, and would you trust him to me in that case? Oh +no, you do not tempt me with your musical clocks. My time goes to the +best music when I read or write; and whatever money I can spend upon +my own pleasures flows away in books. + +[Footnote 58: Translations of three poems of Gregory Nazianzen, +printed in the _Athenaeum_ of January 8, 1842.] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_[59] +50 Wimpole Street: January 2, 1842. + +Miss Barrett, inferring Mr. Westwood from the handwriting, begs his +acceptance of the unworthy little book[60] he does her the honour of +desiring to see. + +It is more unworthy than he could have expected when he expressed that +desire, having been written in very early youth, when the mind was +scarcely free in any measure from trammels and Popes, and, what is +worse, when flippancy of language was too apt to accompany immaturity +of opinion. The miscellaneous verses are, still more than the chief +poem, 'childish things' in a strict literal sense, and the whole +volume is of little interest even to its writer except for personal +reasons--except for the traces of dear affections, since rudely +wounded, and of that _love_ of poetry which began with her sooner than +so soon, and must last as long as life does, without being subject +to the changes of life. Little more, therefore, can remain for such +a volume than to be humble and shrink from circulation. Yet Mr. +Westwood's kind words win it to his hands. Will he receive at the same +moment the expression of touched and gratified feelings with which +Miss Barrett read what he wrote on the subject of her later volumes, +still very imperfect, although more mature and true to the _truth_ +within? Indeed she is thankful for what he said so kindly in his note +to her. + +[Footnote 59: Mr. Thomas Westwood was the author of a volume of +'Poems,' published in 1840, 'Beads from a Rosary' (1843), 'The Burden +of the Bell' (1850), and other volumes of verse. Several of his +compositions were appearing occasionally in the _Athenaeum_ at the +time when this correspondence with Miss Barrett commenced.] + +[Footnote 60: The _Essay on Mind_.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street: January 6, 1842. + +My dear Friend,--I have done your bidding and sent the translations +to the 'Athenaeum,' attaching to them an infamous prefatory note which +says all sorts of harm of Gregory's poetry. You will be very angry +with it and me. + +And you _may_ be angry for another reason--that in the midst of my +true thankfulness for the emendations you sent me, I ventured to +reject one or two of them. You are right, probably, and I wrong; but +still, I thought within myself with a womanly obstinacy not altogether +peculiar to me,--'If he and I were to talk together about them, he +would kindly give up the point to me--so that, now we cannot talk +together, _I might as well take it_.' Well, you will see what I have +done. Try not to be angry with me. You shall have the 'Athenaeum' as +soon as possible. + +My dear Mr. Boyd, you know how I disbelieved the probability of these +papers being accepted. You will comprehend my surprise on receiving +last night a very courteous: note from the editor, which I would +send to you if it were legible to anybody except people used to +learn reading from the pyramids. He wishes me to contribute to the +'Athenaeum' some prose papers in the form of reviews--'the review +being a mere form, and the book a mere text.' He is not very +clear--but I fancy that a few translations of _excerpta_, with a prose +analysis and synthesis of the original author's genius, might suit +his purpose. Now suppose I took up some of the early Christian Greek +poets, and wrote a few continuous papers _so_?[61] Give me your +advice, my dear friend! I think of Synesius, for one. Suppose you send +me a list of the names which occur to you! _Will_ you advise me? Will +you write directly? Will you make allowance for my teazing you? Will +you lend me your little Synesius, and Clarke's book? I mean the one +commenced by Dr. Clarke and continued by his son. Above all things, +however, I want the advice. + +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Wednesday, January 13, 1842 (postmark). + +My dear Friend,--Thank you, thank you, for your kind suggestion and +advice altogether. I had just (when your note arrived) finished two +hymns of Synesius, one being the seventh and the other the ninth. +Oh! I do remember that you performed upon the latter, and my modesty +should have certainly bid me 'avaunt' from it. Nevertheless, it is so +fine, so prominent in the first class of Synesius's beauties, that I +took courage and dismissed my scruples, and have produced a version +which I have not compared to yours at all hitherto, but which probably +is much rougher and _rather_ closer, winning in faith what it loses +in elegance. 'Elegance' isn't a word for me, you know, generally +speaking. The barbarians herd with me, 'by two and three.' + +I had a letter to-day from Mr. Dilke, who agrees to everything, closes +with the idea about 'Christian Greek poets' (only begging me to keep +away from theology), and suggesting a subsequent reviewal of English +poetical literature, from Chaucer down to our times.[62] Well, but +the Greek poets. With all your kindness, I have scarcely sufficient +materials for a full and minute survey of them. I have won a sight of +the 'Poetae Christiani,' but the price is ruinous--_fourteen guineas_, +and then the work consists almost entirely of Latin poets, deducting +Gregory and Nonnus, and John Damascenus, and a cento from Homer by +somebody or other. Turning the leaves rapidly, I do not see much else; +and you know I may get a separate copy of John Dam., and have access +to the rest. Try to turn in your head what I should do. Greg. Nyssen +did not write poems, did he? Have I a chance of seeing your copy of +Mr. Clarke's book? It would be useful in the matters of chronology. + +I humbly beg your pardon, and Gregory's, for the insolence of my note. +It was as brief as it could be, and did not admit of any extended +reference and admiration to his qualities as an orator. But whoever +read it to you should have explained that when I wrote 'He was an +orator,' the word _orator_ was marked emphatically, so as to appear +printed in capital letters of emphasis. Do not say 'you _chose_,' 'you +_chose_.' I didn't and don't choose to be obstinate, indeed; but I +can't see the sense of that 'heavenly soul.' + +Ever your grateful and affectionate +E.B.B. + +I shall have room for praising Gregory in these papers. + +[Footnote 61: The series of papers on the Greek Christian Poets +appeared in the _Athenaeum_ for February and March 1842; they are +reprinted in the _Poetical Works_, v. 109-200.] + +[Footnote 62: This scheme took shape in the series of papers on the +English Poets which appeared in the _Athenaeum_ in the course of June +and August 1842 (reprinted in _Poetical Works_, v. 201-290).] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +February 4, 1842. + +My dear Friend,--You must be thinking, if you are not a St. Boyd for +good temper, that among the Gregorys and Synesiuses I have forgotten +everything about you. No; indeed it has not been so. I have never +_stopped_ being grateful to you for your kind notes, and the two last +pieces of Gregory, although I did not say an overt 'Thank you;' but +I have been very very busy besides, and thus I answered to myself for +your being kind enough to pardon a silence which was compelled rather +than voluntary. + +Do you ever observe that as vexations don't come alone, occupations +don't, and that, if you happen to be engaged upon one particular +thing, it is the signal for your being waylaid by bundles of letters +desiring immediate answers, and proof sheets or manuscript works whose +writers request your opinion while their 'printer waits'? The old +saints are not responsible for all the filling up of my time. I have +been _busy upon busy_. + +The first part of my story about the Greek poets went to the +'Athenaeum' some days ago, but, although graciously received by the +editor, it won't appear this week, or I should have had a proof sheet +(which was promised to me) before now. I must contrive to include all +I have to say on the subject in _three parts_. They will admit, they +tell me, a fourth _if I please_, but evidently they would prefer as +much brevity as I could vouchsafe. Only two poets are in the first +notice, and _twenty_ remain--and neither of the two is Gregory. + +Will you let me see that volume of Gregory which contains the +'Christus Patiens'? Send it by any boy on the heath, and I will +remunerate him for the walk and the burden, and thank you besides. Oh, +don't be afraid! I am not going to charge it upon Gregory, but on the +younger Apollinaris, whose claim is stronger, and I rather wish to +refresh my recollection of the height and breadth of that tragic +misdemeanour. + +It is quite true that I never have suffered much pain, and equally so +that I continue most decidedly better, notwithstanding the winter. I +feel, too--I do hope not ungratefully--the blessing granted to me in +the possibility of literary occupation,--which is at once occupation +and distraction. Carlyle (not the infidel, but the philosopher) calls +literature a 'fireproof pleasure.' How truly! How deeply I have felt +that truth! + +May God bless you, dear Mr. Boyd. I don't despair of looking in your +face one day yet before my last. + +Ever your affectionate and obliged +E.B.B. + +Arabel's love. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +March 2, 1842. + +My ever very dear Friend,--Do receive the assurance that whether I +leave out the right word or put in the wrong one, you never can be +other to me than just _that_ while I live, and why not after I have +ceased to live? And now--what have I done in the meantime, to be +called 'Miss Barrett'? 'I pause for a reply.' + +Of course it gives me very great pleasure to hear you speak so kindly +of my first paper. Some _bona avis_ as good as a nightingale must have +shaken its wings over me as I began it; and if it will but sit on +the same spray while I go on towards the end, I shall rejoice exactly +four-fold. The third paper went to Mr. Dilke to-day, and I was so +fidgety about getting it away (and it seemed to cling to my writing +case with both its hands), that I would not do any writing, even as +little as this note, until it was quite gone out of sight. You know it +is possible that he, the editor, may not please to have the _fourth_ +paper; but even in that case, it is better for the 'Remarks' to remain +fragmentary, than be compressed till they are as dry as a _hortus +siccus_ of poets. + +Certainly you do and must praise my number one too much. Number one +(that's myself) thinks so. I do really; and the supererogatory virtue +of kindness may be acknowledged out of the pale of the Romish Church. + +In regard to Gregory and Synesius, you will see presently that I have +not wronged them altogether. + +As you have ordered the 'Athenaeums,' I will not send one to-morrow +so as to repeat my ill fortune of being too late. But tell me if you +would like to have any from me, and how many. + +It was very kind in you to pat Flush's[63] head in defiance of danger +and from pure regard for me. I kissed his head where you had patted +it; which association of approximations I consider as an imitation +of shaking hands with you and as the next best thing to it. You +understand--don't you?--that Flush is my constant companion, my +friend, my amusement, lying with his head on one page of my folios +while I read the other. (Not _your_ folios--I respect _your_ books, +be sure.) Oh, I dare say, if the truth were known, Flush understands +Greek excellently well. + +I hope you are right in thinking that we shall meet again. Once I +wished _not_ to live, but the faculty of life seems to have sprung up +in me again, from under the crushing foot of heavy grief. + +Be it all as God wills. + +Believe me, your ever affectionate + +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 63: Miss Barrett's dog, the gift of Miss Mitford. His praise +is sung in her poem, 'To Flush, my Dog' (_Poetical Works_, iii. 19), +and in many of the following letters. He accompanied his mistress to +Italy, lived to a good old age, and now lies buried in the vaults of +Casa Guidi.] + + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Saturday night, March 5, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--I am quite angry with myself for forgetting your +questions when I answered your letter. + +Could you really imagine that I have not looked into the Greek +tragedians for years, with my true love for Greek poetry? That is +asking a question, you will say, and not answering it. Well, then, +I answer by a 'Yes' the one you put to me. I had two volumes of +Euripides with me in Devonshire, and have read him as well as +Aeschylus and Sophocles--that is _from_ them--both before and since +I went there. You know I have gone through every line of the three +tragedians long ago, in the way of regular, consecutive reading. + +You know also that I had at different times read different dialogues +of Plato; but when three years ago, and a few months previous to my +leaving home, I became possessed of a complete edition of his works, +edited by Bekker, why then I began with the first volume and went +through the whole of his writings, both those I knew and those I did +not know, one after another: and have at this time read, not only all +that is properly attributed to Plato, but even those dialogues and +epistles which pass falsely under his name--everything except two +books I think, or three, of the treatise 'De Legibus,' which I shall +finish in a week or two, as soon as I can take breath from Mr. Dilke. + +Now the questions are answered. + +Ever your affectionate and grateful friend, +E.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Thursday, March 10, 1842 [postmark]. + +My very dear Friend,--I did not know until to-day whether the paper +would appear on Saturday or not; but as I have now received the proof +sheets, there can be no doubt of it. I have been and _am_ hurried and +hunted almost into a corner through the pressing for the fourth paper, +and the difficulty about books. You will forgive a very short note to +night. + +I have read of Aristotle only his Poetics, his Ethics, and his work +upon Rhetoric, but I mean to take him regularly into both hands when I +finish Plato's last page. Aristophanes I took with me into Devonshire; +and after all, I do not know much more of _him_ than three or four of +his plays may stand for. Next week, my very dear friend, I shall be at +your commands, and sit in spirit at your footstool, to hear and answer +anything you may care to ask me--but oh! what have I done that you +should talk to _me_ about 'venturing,' or 'liberty,' or anything of +that kind? + +From your affectionate and grateful catechumen, +E.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_. +March 29, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--I received your long letter and receive your +short one, and thank you for the pleasure of both. Of course I am very +_very_ glad of your approval in the matter of the papers, and your +kindness could not have wished to give me more satisfaction than +it gave actually. Mr. Kenyon tells me that Mr. Burgess[64] has been +reading and commending the papers, and has brought me from him a newly +discovered scene of the 'Bacchae' of Euripides, edited by Mr. Burgess +himself for the 'Gentlemen's Magazine,' and of which he considers that +the 'Planctus Mariae,' at least the passage I extracted from it, is an +imitation. Should you care to see it? Say 'Yes,'--and I will send it +to you. + +Do you think it was wrong to make _eternity_ feminine? I knew that +the Greek word was not feminine; but imagined that the English +personification should be so. Am I wrong in this? Will you consider +the subject again? + +Ah, yes! That was a mistake of mine about putting Constantine for +Constantius. I wrote from memory, and the memory betrayed me. But say +nothing about it. Nobody will find it out. I send you Silentiarius and +some poems of Pisida in the same volume. Even if you had not asked for +them, I should have asked you to look at some passages which are fine +in both. It appears to me that Silentiarius writes difficult Greek, +overlaying his description with a multitude of architectural and +other far fetched words! Pisida is hard, too, occasionally, from other +causes, particularly in the 'Hexaëmeron,' which is not in the book +I send you but in another very gigantic one (as tall as the Irish +giants), which you may see if you please. I will send a coach and six +with it if you please. + +John Mauropus, of the Three Towns, I owe the knowledge of to _you. +You_ lent me the book with his poems, you know. He is a great favorite +of mine in all ways. I very much admire his poetry. + +Believe me, ever your affectionate and grateful + +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +Pray tell me what you think. I am sorry to observe that the book I +send you is marked very irregularly; that is, marked in some places, +unmarked in others, just as I happened to be near or far from +my pencil and inkstand. Otherwise I should have liked to compare +judgments with you. + +Keep the book as long as you please; it is my own. + +[Footnote 64: George Burges, the classical scholar. He had in 1832 +contributed to the _Gentleman's Magazine_ (under a pseudonym) some +lines purporting to be a newly discovered portion of the _Bacchae_, +but really composed by himself on the basis of a parallel passage +in the _Christus Patiens_. It is apparently to these lines that Miss +Barrett alludes, though the 'discovery' was then nearly ten years +old.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street: April 2, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--... As to your kind desire to hear whatever in +the way of favorable remark I have gathered together for fruit of my +papers, I put on a veil and tell you that Mr. Kenyon thought it well +done, although 'labour thrown away, from the unpopularity of +the subject;' that Miss Mitford was very much pleased, with the +warmheartedness common to her; that Mrs. Jamieson [_sic_] read them +'with great pleasure' unconsciously of the author; and that Mr. Home +the poet and Mr. Browning the poet were not behind in approbation. Mr. +Browning is said to be learned in Greek, especially in the dramatists; +and of Mr. Home I should suspect something similar. Miss Mitford and +Mrs. Jamieson, although very gifted and highly cultivated women, +are not Grecians, and therefore judge the papers simply as English +compositions. + +The single unfavorable opinion _is_ Mr. Hunter's, who thinks that +the criticisms are not given with either sufficient seriousness or +diffidence, and that there is a painful sense of effort through the +whole. Many more persons may say so whose voices I do not hear. I am +glad that yours, my dear indulgent friend, is not one of them. + +Believe me, your ever affectionate + +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +May 17, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--Have you thought all unkindness out of my +silence? Yet the inference is not a true one, however it may look in +logic. + +You do not like Silentiarius _very much_ (that is _my_ inference), +since you have kept him so short a time. And I quite agree with you +that he is not a poet of the same interest as Gregory Nazianzen, +however he may appear to me of more lofty cadence in his +versification. My own impression is that John of Euchaita is worth two +of each of them as a poet. His poems strike me as standing in the very +first class of the productions of the Christian centuries. Synesius +and John of Euchaita! I shall always think of those two together--not +by their similarity, but their dignity. + +I return you the books you lent me with true thanks, and also those +which Mrs. Smith, I believe, left in your hands for me. I thank _you_ +for them, and _you_ must be good enough to thank _her_. They were of +use, although of a rather sublime indifference for poets generally.... + +I shall send you soon the series of the Greek papers you asked for, +and also perhaps the first paper of a Survey of the English Poets, +under the pretence of a review of 'The Book of the Poets,' a +bookseller's selection published lately. I begin from Langland, of +Piers Plowman and the Malvern Hills. The first paper went to the +editor last week, and I have heard nothing as to whether it will +appear on Saturday or not, and perhaps if it does you won't care +to have it sent to you. Tell me if you do or don't. I have suffered +unpleasantly in the heart lately from this tyrannous dynasty of east +winds, but have been well otherwise, and am better, in _that_. Flushie +means to bark the next time he sees you in revenge for what you say of +him. + +Good bye, dear Mr. Boyd; think of me as + +Your ever affectionate +E.B.B. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +June 3, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--I disobeyed you in not simply letting you know +of the publication of my 'English Poets,' because I did not know +myself when the publication was to take place, and I hope you will +forgive the innocent crime and accept the first number going to you +with this note. I warn you that there will be two numbers more at +_least_. Therefore do not prepare yourself for perhaps the impossible +magnanimity of reading them through. + +And now I am fit for rivalship with your clocks, papa having given me +an Aeolian harp for the purpose. Do you know the music of an Aeolian +harp, and that nothing below the spherical harmonies is so sweet +and soft and mournfully wild? The amusing part of it is (after the +poetical) that Flushie is jealous and thinks it is alive, and takes +it as very hard that I should say 'beautiful' to anything except his +ears! + +Arabel talks of going to see you; but if you are sensible to this +intense and most overcoming heat, you will pardon her staying away for +the present. + +We have heard to-day that Annie proposes to publish her Miscellany by +subscription; and although I know it to be the only way, compatible +with publication at all, to avoid a pecuniary loss, yet the custom +is so entirely abandoned except in the case of persons of a lower +condition of life than _your daughter_, that I am sorry to think of +the observations it may excite. The whole scheme has appeared to me +from the beginning _most foolish_, and if you knew what I know of +the state and fortune of our ephemeral literature, you would use +what influence you have with her to induce her to condemn her +'contributions' to the adorning of a private annual rather than the +purpose in unhappy question. I wish I dared to appeal through my true +love for her to her own good sense once more. + +My very dear friend's affectionate and grateful +E.B.B. + +If you _do_ read any of the papers, let me know, I beseech you, your +full and free opinion of them. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +June 22, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--I thank you gratefully for your two notes, with +their united kindness and candour--the latter still rarer than the +former, if less 'sweet upon the tongue.' Sir William Alexander's +tragedy _(that_ is the right name, I think, Sir William Alexander, +Earl of Stirling) you will not find mentioned among my dramatic +notices, because I was much pressed for room, and had to treat the +whole subject as briefly as possible, striking off, like the Roman, +only the heads of the flowers, and I did not, besides, receive your +injunction until my third paper on the dramatists was finished and in +the press. When you read it you will find some notice of that tragedy +by Marlowe, the first knowledge of which I owe to you, my dear Mr. +Boyd, as how much besides? And then comes the fourth paper, and I +tremble to anticipate the possible--nay, the very probable--scolding I +may have from you, upon my various heresies as to Dryden and Pope and +Queen Anne's versificators. In the meantime you have breathing time, +for Mr. Dilke, although very gracious and courteous to my offence of +extending the two papers he asked for _into four_,[65] yet could find +no room in the 'Athenaeum' last week for me, and only _hopes_ for it +this week. And after this week comes the British Association business, +which always fills every column for a month, so that a further delay +is possible enough. 'It will increase,' says Mr. Dilke, 'the zest of +the reader,' whereas _I_ say (at least think) that it will help him +quite to forget me. I explain all this lest you should blame me for +neglect to yourself in not sending the papers. I am so pleased that +you like at least the second article. That is encouragement to me. + +Flushie did not seem to think the harp alive when it was taken out of +the window and laid close to him. He examined it particularly, and +is a philosophical dog. But I am sure that at first and while it was +playing he thought so. + +In the same way he can't bear me to look into a glass, because he +thinks there is a little brown dog inside every looking glass, and he +is jealous of its being so close to _me_. He used to tremble and bark +at it, but now he is _silently_ jealous, and contents himself with +squeezing close, close to me and kissing me expressively. + +My very dear friend's ever gratefully affectionate +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 65: Ultimately five.] + + +_To John Kenyon_ +50 Wimpole Street: Sunday night [September 1842]. + +My dear Mr. Kenyon,--Having missed my pleasure to-day by a coincidence +worse for me than for you, I must, tired as I am to-night, tell +you--ready for to-morrow's return of the books--what I have waited +three whole days hoping to tell you by word of mouth. But mind, before +I begin, I don't do so out of despair ever to see you again, because I +trust steadfastly to your kindness to _come_ again when _you_ are not +'languid' and I am alone as usual; only that I dare not keep back from +you any longer the following message of Miss Mitford. She says: 'Won't +he take us in his way to Torquay? or from Torquay? Beg him to do +so--and of all love, to tell us _when_.' Afterwards, again: 'I think +my father is better. Tell Mr. Kenyon what I say, and stand my friend +with him and beg him to come.' + +Which I do in the most effectual way--in her own words. + +She is much pleased by means of your introduction. 'Tell dear Mr. +Kenyon how very very much I like Mrs. Leslie. She seems all that is +good and kind, and to add great intelligence and agreeableness to +these prime qualities.' + +Now I have done with being a messenger of the gods, and verily my +caduceus is trembling in my hand. + +O Mr. Kenyon! what have you done? You will know the interpretation of +the reproach, your conscience holding the key of the cypher. + +In the meantime I ought to be thanking you for your great kindness +about this divine Tennyson.[66] Beautiful! beautiful! After all, it +is a noble thing to be a poet. But notwithstanding the poetry of the +novelties--and you will observe that his two preceding volumes (only +one of which I had seen before, having inquired for the other vainly) +are included in these two--nothing appears to me quite equal to +'Oenone,' and perhaps a few besides of my ancient favorites. That is +not said in disparagement of the last, but in admiration of the +first. There is, in fact, more thought--more bare brave working of the +intellect--in the latter poems, even if we miss something of the high +ideality, and the music that goes with it, of the older ones. Only I +am always inclined to believe that philosophic thinking, like music, +is involved, however occultly, in high ideality of any kind. + +You have not a key to the cypher of this at least, and I am so tired +that one word seems tumbling over another all the way. + +Ever affectionately yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +You will let me keep your beautiful ballad and the gods[67] a little +longer. + +[Footnote 66: This refers to the recent publication of Tennyson's +_Poems_, in two volumes, the first containing a re-issue of poems +previously published, while the second was wholly new, and included +such poems as the 'Morte d'Arthur,' 'Ulysses,' and 'Locksley Hall.'] + +[Footnote 67: No doubt Mr. Kenyon's translation of Schiller's 'Gods +of Greece,' which was the occasion of Miss Barrett's poem 'The Dead +Pan.'] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +September 14, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--I have made you wait a long time for the 'North +American Review,' because when your request came it was no longer +within my reach, and because since then I have not been so well +as usual from a sweep of the wing of the prevailing epidemic. Now, +however, I am _better_ than I was even before the attack, only wishing +that it were possible to hook-and-eye on another summer to the hem +of the garment of this last sunny one. At the end of such a double +summer, to measure things humanly, I might be able to go to see you at +Hampstead. Nevertheless, winters and adversities are more fit for us +than a constant sun. + +I suppose, dear Mr. Boyd, you want only to have this review read to +you, and not _written_. Because it isn't out of laziness that I send +the book to you; and Arabel would copy whatever you please willingly, +provided you wished it. Keep the book as long as you please. I have +put a paper mark and a pencil mark at the page and paragraph where I +am taken up. It seems to me that the condemnation of 'The Seraphim' is +not too hard. The poem wants _unity_. + +As to your 'words of fire' about Wordsworth, if I had but a cataract +at command I would try to quench them. His powers should not be judged +of by my extracts or by anybody's extracts from his last-published +volume.[68] Do you remember his grand ode upon Childhood--worth, to my +apprehension, just twenty of Dryden's 'St. Cecilia's Day'--his sonnet +upon Westminster Bridge, his lyric on a lark, in which the lark's +music swells and exults, and the many noble and glorious passages +of his 'Excursion'? You must not indeed blame me for estimating +Wordsworth at _his height_, and on the other side I readily confess to +you that he is occasionally, and not unfrequently, heavy and dull, and +that Coleridge had an intenser genius. Tell me if you know anything of +Tennyson. He has just published two volumes of poetry, one of which is +a republication, but both full of inspiration. + +Ever my very dear friend's affectionate and grateful +E.B.B. + + +[Footnote 68: _Poems, chiefly of early and late years, including The +Borderers, a Tragedy_ (1842).] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +50 Wimpole Street: October 22, 1842. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Waiting first for you to write to me, and +then waiting that I might write to you cheerfully, has ended by making +so long a silence that I am almost ashamed to break it. And perhaps, +even if I were not ashamed, you would be angry--perhaps you _are_ +angry, and don't much care now whether or not you ever hear from me +again. Still I must write, and I must moreover ask you to write to me +again; and I must in particular assure you that I have continued to +love you sincerely, notwithstanding all the silence which might seem +to say the contrary. What I should like best just now is to have a +letter speaking comfortable details of your being comparatively well +again; yet I hope on without it that you really are so much better as +to be next to quite well. It was with great concern that I heard +of the indisposition which hung about you, dearest Mrs. Martin, +so long--I who had congratulated myself when I saw you last on the +promise of good health in your countenance. May God bless you, and +keep you better! And may you take care of yourself, and remember how +many love you in the world, from dear Mr. Martin down to--E.B.B. + +Well, now I must look around me and consider what there is to tell +you. But I have been uneasy in various ways, sometimes by reason and +sometimes by fantasy; and even now, although my dear old friend Dr. +Scully is something better, he lies, I fear, in a very precarious +state, while dearest Miss Mitford's letters from the deathbed of her +father make my heart ache as surely almost as the post comes. There +is nothing more various in character, nothing which distinguishes +one human being from another more strikingly, than the expression of +feeling, the manner in which it influences the outward man. If I were +in her circumstances, I should sit paralysed--it would be impossible +to me to write or to cry. And she, who loves and feels with the +intensity of a nature warm in everything, seems to turn to sympathy +by the very instinct of grief, and sits at the deathbed of her last +relative, writing there, in letter after letter, every symptom, +physical or moral--even to the very words of the raving of a delirium, +and those, heart-breaking words! I could not write such letters; but I +know she feels as deeply as any mourner in the world can. And all this +reminds me of what you once asked me about the inscriptions in +Lord Brougham's villa at Nice. There are probably as many different +dialects for the heart as for the tongue, are there not?... + +And now you will kindly like to have a word said about myself, and it +need not be otherwise than a word to give your kindness pleasure. The +long splendid summer, exhausting as the heat was to me sometimes, did +me essential good, and left me walking about the room and equal to +going downstairs (which I achieved four or five times), and even to +going out in the chair, without suffering afterwards. And, best of +all, the spitting of blood (I must tell you), which more or less kept +by me continually, _stopped quite_ some six weeks ago, and I have thus +more reasonable hopes of being really and essentially better than +I could have with such a symptom loitering behind accidental +improvements. Weak enough, and with a sort of pulse which is not +excellent, I certainly remain; but still, if I escape any decided +attack this winter--and I am in garrison now--there are expectations +of further good for next summer, and I may recover some moderate +degree of health and strength again, and be able to _do_ good instead +of receiving it only. + +I write under the eyes of Wordsworth. Not Wordsworth's living eyes, +although the actual living poet had the infinite kindness to ask Mr. +Kenyon twice last summer when he was in London, if he might not +come to see me. Mr. Kenyon said 'No'--I couldn't have said 'No' to +Wordsworth, though I had never gone to sleep again afterwards. But +this Wordsworth who looks on me now is Wordsworth in a picture. Mr. +Haydon the artist, with the utmost kindness, has sent me the portrait +he was painting of the great poet--an unfinished portrait--and I am +to keep it until he wants to finish it. Such a head! such majesty! and +the poet stands musing upon Helvellyn! And all that--poet, Helvellyn, +and all--is in my room![69] + +Give my kind love to Mr. Martin--_our_ kind love, indeed, to both of +you--and believe me, my dearest Mrs. Martin, + +Your ever affectionate BA. + +Is there any hope for us of you before the winter ends? Do consider. + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Monday, October 31, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--I have put off from day to day sending you +these volumes, and in the meantime _I have had a letter from the great +poet_! Did Arabel tell you that my sonnet on the picture was sent to +Mr. Haydon, and that Mr. Haydon sent it to Mr. Wordsworth? The result +was that Mr. Wordsworth wrote to me. King John's barons were never +better pleased with their Charta than I am with this letter.[70] + +But I won't tell you any more about it until you have read the poems +which I send you. Read first, to put you into good humour, the sonnet +written on Westminster Bridge, vol. iii. page 78. Then take from the +sixth volume, page 152, the passage beginning 'Within the soul' down +to page 153 at 'despair,' and again at page 155 beginning with + + I have seen + A curious child, &c. + +down to page 157 to the end of the paragraph. If you admit these +passages to be fine poetry, I wish much that you would justify me +further by reading, out of the _second_ volume, the two poems called +'Laodamia' and 'Tintern Abbey' at page 172 and page 161. I will not +ask you to read any more; but I dare say you will rush on of your own +account, in which case there is a fine ode upon the 'Power of Sound' +in the same volume. Wordsworth is a philosophical and Christian poet, +with depths in his soul to which poor Byron could never reach. Do be +candid. Nay, I need not say so, because you always are, as I am, + +Your ever affectionate +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 69: It was this picture that called forth the sonnet, 'On +a Portrait of Wordsworth by B.R. Haydon' (_Poetical Works_, iii. 62), +alluded to in the next letter.] + +[Footnote 70: The following is the letter from Wordsworth which gave +such pleasure to Miss Barrett, and which she treasured among her +papers for the rest of her life. Two slips of the pen have been +corrected between brackets. + +'Rydal Mount: Oct. 26, '42. + +'Dear Miss Barrett,--Through our common friend Mr. Haydon I have +received a sonnet which his portrait of me suggested. I should have +thanked you sooner for that effusion of a feeling towards myself, with +which I am much gratified, but I have been absent from home and much +occupied. + +'The conception of your sonnet is in full accordance with the +painter's intended work, and the expression vigorous; yet the word +"ebb," though I do not myself object to it, nor wish to have it +altered, will I fear prove obscure to nine readers out of ten. + + "A vision free + And noble, Haydon, hath thine art released." + +Owing to the want of inflections in our language the construction here +is obscure. Would it not be a little [better] thus? I was going to +write a small change in the order of the words, but I find it would +not remove the objection. The verse, as I take it, would be somewhat +clearer thus, if you would tolerate the redundant syllable: + + "By a vision free + And noble, Haydon, is thine art released." + +I had the gratification of receiving, a good while ago, two copies of +a volume of your writing, which I have read with much pleasure, and +beg that the thanks which I charged a friend to offer may be repeated +[to] you. + +'It grieved me much to hear from Mr. Kenyon that your health is so +much deranged. But for that cause I should have presumed to call upon +you when I was in London last spring. + +'With every good wish, I remain, dear Miss Barrett, your much obliged + +'WM. WORDSWORTH.' + +[Postmark: Ambleside, Oct. 28, 1842.] + +It may be added that although Miss Barrett altered the passage +criticised by the great poet, she did not accept his amendment. It now +runs + + 'A noble vision free + Our Haydon's hand has flung out from the mist. + + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +December 4, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--You will think me in a discontented state of +mind when I knit my brows like a 'sleeve of care' over your kind +praises. But the truth is, I _won't_ be praised for being liberal in +Calvinism and love of Byron. _I_ liberal in commending Byron! Take out +my heart and try it! look at it and compare it with yours; and answer +and tell me if I do not love and admire Byron more warmly than you +yourself do. I suspect it indeed. Why, I am always reproached for my +love to Byron. Why, people say to me, '_You_, who overpraise Byron!' +Why, when I was a little girl (and, whatever you may think, my +tendency is not to cast off my old loves!) I used to think seriously +of dressing up like a boy and running away to be Lord Byron's page. +And _I_ to be praised now for being 'liberal' in admitting the merit +of his poetry! _I_! + +As for the Calvinism, I don't choose to be liberal there either. +I don't call myself a Calvinist. I hang suspended between the two +doctrines, and hide my eyes in God's love from the sights which other +people _say_ they see. I believe simply that the saved are saved by +grace, and that they shall hereafter know it fully; and that the lost +are lost by their choice and free will--by choosing to sin and die; +and I believe absolutely that the deepest damned of all the lost will +not dare to whisper to the nearest devil that reproach of Martha: 'If +the Lord had been near me, I had not died.' But of the means of the +working of God's grace, and of the time of the formation of the +Divine counsels, I know nothing, guess nothing, and struggle to +guess nothing; and my persuasion is that when people talk of what was +ordained or approved by God before the foundations of the world, their +tendency is almost always towards a confusion of His eternal nature +with the human conditions of ours; and to an oblivion of the fact that +with _Him_ there can be no after nor before. + +At any rate, I do not find it good for myself to examine any more the +brickbats of controversy--there is more than enough to think of in +truths clearly revealed; more than enough for the exercise of the +intellect and affections and adorations. I would rather not suffer +myself to be disturbed, and perhaps irritated, where it is not likely +that I should ever be informed. And although you tell me that your +system of investigation is different from some others, answer me with +your accustomed candour, and admit, my very dear friend, that this +argument does not depend upon the construction of a Greek sentence or +the meaning of a Greek word. Let a certain word[71] be 'fore-know' or +'publicly _favor_,' room for a stormy controversy yet remains. I went +through the Romans with you partially, and wholly by myself, by your +desire, and in reference to the controversy, long ago; and I could not +then, and cannot now, enter into that view of Taylor and Adam Clarke, +and yourself I believe, as to the _Jews and Gentiles_. Neither could +I conceive that a particular part of the epistle represents an actual +dialogue between a Jew and Gentile, since the form of question and +answer appears to me there simply rhetorical. The Apostle Paul was +learned in rhetoric; and I think he described so, by a rhetorical and +vivacious form, that struggle between the flesh and the spirit common +to all Christians; the spirit being triumphant through God in Christ +Jesus. These are my impressions. Yours are different. And since we +should not probably persuade each other, and since we are both of us +fond of and earnest in what we fancy to be the truth, why should +we cast away the thousand sympathies we rejoice in, religious and +otherwise, for the sake of a fruitless contention? 'What!' you would +say (by the time we had quarrelled half an hour), 'can't you talk +without being excited?' Half an hour afterwards: 'Pray _do_ lower +your voice--it goes through my head!' In another ten minutes: 'I could +scarcely have believed you to be so obstinate.' In another: 'Your +prejudices are insurmountable, and your reason most womanly--you are +degenerated to the last degree.' In another--why, _then_ you would +turn me and Flush out of the room and so finish the controversy +victoriously. + +Was I wrong too, dearest Mr. Boyd, in sending the poems to the +'Athenaeum'? Well, I meant to be right. I fancied that you would +rather they were sent; and as your _name_ was not attached, there +could be no harm in leaving them to the editor's disposal. They +are not inserted, as I anticipated. The religious character was a +sufficient objection--their character of _prayer_. Mr. Dilke begged me +once, while I was writing for him, to write the name of God and Jesus +Christ as little as I could, because those names did not accord with +the secular character of the journal! + +Ever your affectionate and grateful +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +Tell me how you like the sonnet; but you won't (I prophesy) like it. +Keep the 'Athenaeum.' + +[Footnote 71: The Greek [Greek: progignôskein], used in Romans viii. +29.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +December 24, 1842. + +My very dear Friend,--I am afraid that you will infer from my silence +that you have affronted me into ill temper by your parody upon my +sonnet. Yet 'lucus a non lucendo' were a truer derivation. I laughed +and thanked you over the parody, and put off writing to you until I +had the headache, which forced me to put it off again.... + +May God bless you, my dear Mr. Boyd. Mr. Savage Landor once said that +anybody who could write a parody deserved to be shot; but as he has +written one himself since saying so, he has probably changed his mind. +Arabel sends her love. + +Ever your affectionate and grateful +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +January 5, 1842 [1843]. + +My very dear Friend,--My surprise was inexpressible at your utterance +of the name. What! Ossian superior as a poet to Homer! Mr. Boyd saying +so! Mr. Boyd treading down the neck of Aeschylus while he praises +Ossian! The fact appears to me that anomalous thing among believers--a +miracle without an occasion. + +I confess I never, never should have guessed the name; not though +I had guessed to Doomsday. In the first place I do not believe in +Ossian, and having partially examined the testimony (for I don't +pretend to any exact learning about it) I consider him as the poetical +_lay figure_ upon which Mr. Macpherson dared to cast his personality. +There is a sort of phraseology, nay, an identity of occasional +phrases, from the antique--but that these so-called Ossianic poems +were ever discovered and translated as they stand in their present +form, I believe in no wise. As Dr. Johnson wrote to Macpherson, so I +would say, 'Mr. Macpherson, I thought you an impostor, and think so +still.' + +It is many years ago since I looked at Ossian, and I never did much +delight in him, as that fact proves. Since your letter came I have +taken him up again, and have just finished 'Carthon.' There are +beautiful passages in it, the most beautiful beginning, I think, +'Desolate is the dwelling of Moina,' and the next place being filled +by that address to the sun you magnify so with praise. But the charm +of these things is the _only_ charm of all the poems. There is a sound +of wild vague music in a monotone--nothing is articulate, nothing +_individual_, nothing various. Take away a few poetical phrases from +these poems, and they are colourless and bare. Compare them with the +old burning ballads, with a wild heart beating in each. How cold they +grow in the comparison! Compare them with Homer's grand breathing +personalities, with Aeschylus's--nay, but I cannot bear upon my lips +or finger the charge of the blasphemy of such comparing, even for +religion's sake.... + +I had another letter from America a few days since, from an American +poet of Boston who is establishing a magazine, and asked for +contributions from my pen. The Americans are as good-natured to me as +if they took me for the high Radical I am, you know. + +You won't be angry with me for my obliquity (as you will consider it) +about Ossian. You know I always talk sincerely to you, and you have +not made me afraid of telling you the truth--that is, _my_ truth, the +truth of my belief and opinions. + +I do not defend much in the 'Idiot Boy.' Wordsworth is a great poet, +but he does not always write equally. + +And that reminds me of a distinction you suggest between Ossian and +Homer. _I_ fashion it in this way: Homer sometimes nods, but Ossian +_makes his readers nod_. + +Ever your affectionate +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +Did I tell you that I had been reading through a manuscript +translation of the 'Gorgias' of Plato, by Mr. Hyman of Oxford, who is +a stepson of Mr. Haydon's the artist? It is an excellent translation +with learned notes, but it is _not elegant_. He means to try the +public upon it, but, as I have intimated to him, the Christians of the +present day are not civilised enough for Plato. + +Arabel's love. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[About the end of January 1843.] + +My very dear Friend,--The image you particularly admire in Ossian, I +admire with you, although I am not sure that I have not seen it or its +like somewhere in a classical poet, Greek or Latin. Perhaps Lord +Byron remembered it when in the 'Siege of Corinth' he said of +his Francesca's uplifted arm, 'You might have seen the moon shine +through.' It reminds me also that Maclise the artist, a man of +poetical imagination, gives such a transparency to the ghost of Banquo +in his picture of Macbeth's banquet, that we can discern through it +the lights of the festival. That is good poetry for a painter, is it +not? + +I send you the magazines which I have just received from America, and +which contain, one of them, 'The Cry of the Human,' and the other, +four of my sonnets. My correspondent tells me that the 'Cry' is +considered there one of the most successful of my poems, but you +probably will not think so. Tell me exactly what you do think. At +page 343 of 'Graham's Magazine,' _Editor's Table_, is a review of +me, which, however extravagant in its appreciation, will give your +kindness pleasure. I confess to a good deal of pleasure myself from +these American courtesies, expressed not merely in the magazines, +but in the newspapers; a heap of which has been sent to me by my +correspondent--the 'New York Tribune,' 'The Union,' 'The Union Flag,' +&c.--all scattered over with extracts from my books and benignant +words about their writer. Among the extracts is the whole of the +review of Wordsworth from the London 'Athenaeum,' an unconscious +compliment, as they do not guess at the authorship, and one which you +won't thank them for. Keep the magazines, as I have duplicates. + +Dearest Mr. Boyd, since you admit that I am not prejudiced about +Ossian, I take courage to tell you what I am thinking of. + +_I am thinking_ (this is said in a whisper, and in confidence--of two +kinds), _I am thinking that you don't admire him quite as much as you +did three weeks ago_. + +Ever most affectionately yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +Arabel not being here, I send her love without asking for it. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +January 30, 1843. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Thank you for your letter and for dear Mr. +Martin's thought of writing one! Ah! _I_ thought he would not write, +but not for the reason you say; it was something more palpable and +less romantic! Well, I will not grumble any more about not having my +letter, since you are coming, and since you seem, my dear Mrs. Martin, +something in better spirits than your note from Southampton bore +token of. Madeira is the Promised Land, you know; and you should hope +hopefully for your invalid from his pilgrimage there. You should hope +with those who hope, my dearest Mrs. Martin.... + +Our '_event_' just now is a new purchase of a 'Holy Family,' supposed +to be by Andrea del Sarto. It has displaced the Glover over the +chimney-piece in the drawing-room, and dear Stormie and Alfred nearly +broke their backs in carrying it upstairs for me to see before the +placing. It is probably a fine picture, and I seem to see my +way through the dark of my ignorance, to admire the grouping and +colouring, whatever doubt as to the expression and divinity may occur +otherwise. Well, you will judge. I won't tell you _how_ I think of it. +And you won't care if I do. There is also a new very pretty landscape +piece, and you may imagine the local politics of the arrangement and +hanging, with their talk and consultation; while _I_, on the storey +higher, have my arranging to manage of my pretty new books and my +three hyacinths, and a pot of primroses which dear Mr. Kenyon had the +good nature to carry himself through the streets to our door. But all +the flowers forswear me, and die either suddenly or gradually as soon +as they become aware of the want of fresh air and light in my room. +Talking of air and light, what exquisite weather this is! What a +summer in winter! It is the fourth day since I have had the fire wrung +from me by the heat of temperature, and I sit here _very warm indeed_, +notwithstanding that bare grate. Nay, yesterday I had the door thrown +open for above an hour, and was warm still! You need not ask, you see, +how I am. + +Tell me, have you read Mr. Dickens's 'America;' and what is your +thought of it like? If I were an American, it would make me rabid, and +certain of the free citizens _are_ furious, I understand, while others +'speak peace and ensue it,' admire as much of the book as deserves +any sort of admiration, and attribute the blameable parts to the +prejudices of the party with whom the writer 'fell in,' and not to +a want of honesty or brotherhood in his own intentions. I admire Mr. +Dickens as an imaginative writer, and I love the Americans--I cannot +possibly admire or love this book. Does Mr. Martin? Do _you_? + +Henrietta would send her love to you if I could hear her voice nearer +than I do actually, as she sings to the guitar downstairs. And her +love is not the only one to be sent. Give mine to dear Mr. Martin, +though he can't make up his mind to the bore of writing to me. And +remember us all, both of you, as we do you. + +Dearest Mrs. Martin, your affectionate BA. + + +_To James Martin_ +February 6, 1843. + +You make us out, my dear Mr. Martin, to be such perfect parallel lines +that I should be half afraid of completing the definition by our never +meeting, if it were not for what you say afterwards, of the coming +to London, and of promising to come and see Flush. If you should be +travelling while I am writing, it was only what happened to me when I +wrote not long ago to dearest Mrs. Martin, and everybody in this house +cried out against the fatuity of the coincidence. As if I could know +that she was travelling, when nobody told me, and I wasn't a witch! +If the same thing happens to-day, believe in the innocence of my +ignorance. I shall be consoled if it does--for certain reasons. But +for none in the world can I help thanking you for your letter, which +gave me so much pleasure from the first sight of the handwriting to +the thought of the kindness spent upon me in it, that after all I +cannot thank you as I would. + +Yet I won't let you fancy me of such an irrational state of simplicity +as not to be fully aware that _you_, with your 'nature of the fields +and forests,' look down disdainfully and with an inward heat of +glorying, upon _me_ who have all my pastime in books--dead and +seethed. Perhaps, if it were a little warmer, I might even grant that +you are right in your pride. As it is, I grumble feebly to myself +something about the definition of _nature_, and how we in the town +(which 'God made' just as He made your hedges) have _our_ share +of nature too; and then I have secret thoughts of the state of the +thermometer, and wonder how people can breathe out of doors. In the +meantime, Flush, who is a better philosopher, pushes deep into +my furs, and goes to sleep. Perhaps I should fear the omen for my +correspondent. + +Oh yes! That picture in 'Boz' is beautiful. For my own part, and by a +natural womanly contradiction, I have never cared so much in my life +for flowers as since being shut out from gardens--unless, indeed, in +the happy days of old when I had a garden of my own, and cut it out +into a great Hector of Troy, in relievo, with a high heroic box nose +and shoeties of columbine.[72] But that was long ago. Now I count the +buds of my primrose with a new kind of interest, and you never +saw such a primrose! I begin to believe in Ovid, and look for a +metamorphosis. The leaves are turning white and springing up as high +as corn. Want of air, and of sun, I suppose. I should be loth to think +it--want of friendship to _me_! + +Do you know that the royal Boz lives close to us, three doors from Mr. +Kenyon in Harley Place? The new numbers appear to me admirable, and +full of life and blood--whatever we may say to the thick rouging and +extravagance of gesture. There is a beauty, a tenderness, too, in the +organ scene, which is worthy of the gilliflowers. But my admiration +for 'Boz' fell from its 'sticking place,' I confess, a good furlong, +when I read Victor Hugo; and my creed is, that, _not_ in his +tenderness, which is as much his own as his humour, but in his serious +powerful Jew-trial scenes, he has followed Hugo closely, and never +scarcely looked away from 'Les Trois Jours d'un Condamné.' + +If you should not be on the road, I hope you won't be very long +before you are, and that dearest Mrs. Martin will put off building her +greenhouse--you see I believe she _will_ build it--until she gets home +again. + +How kind of you and of her to have poor old Mrs. Barker at Colwall! + +Do believe me, both of you, with love from all of _us_, + +Very affectionately yours, +BA. + +[Footnote 72: See 'Hector in the Garden' (_Poetical Works_, iii. 37).] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +February 21, 1843. + +Thank you, my very dear friend, I am as well as the east wind will +suffer me to be; and _that_, indeed, is not very well, my heart being +fuller of all manner of evil than is necessary to its humanity. But +the wind is changed, and the frost is gone, and it is not quite out of +my fancy yet that I may see you next summer. _You and summer are not +out of the question yet_. Therefore, you see, I cannot be very deep +in tribulation. But you may consider it a bad symptom that I have just +finished a poem of some five hundred lines in stanzas, called 'The +Lost Bower,'[73] and about nothing at all in particular. + +As to Arabel, she is not an icicle. There are flowers which blow in +the frost--when we brambles are brown with their inward death--and she +is of them, dear thing. _You_ are not a bramble, though, and I hope +that when you talk of 'feeling the cold,' you mean simply to refer +to your sensation, and not to your health. Remember also, dearest Mr. +Boyd, what a glorious winter we have had. Take away the last ten days +and a few besides, and call the whole summer rather than winter. Ought +we to complain, really? Really, no. + +I venture another prophecy upon the shoulders of the ast, though my +hand shakes so that nobody will read it. + +_You can't abide my 'Cry of the Human,' and four sonnets_. They have +none of them found favor in your eyes. + +In or out of favor, + +Ever your affectionate E.B.B. + +Do you think that next summer you _might, could_, or _would_ walk +across the park to see me--supposing always that I fail in my +aspiration to go and see you? I only ask by way of _hypothesis_. +Consider and revolve it so. We live on the verge of the town rather +than in it, and our noises are cousins to silence; and you should pass +into a room where the silence is most absolute. Flush's breathing is +my loudest sound, and then the watch's tickings, and then my own heart +when it beats too turbulently. Judge of the quiet and the solitude! + +[Footnote 73: _Poetical Works_, iii. 105.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +April 19, 1843. + +My very dear Friend,--The earth turns round, to be sure, and we turn +with it, but I never anticipated the day and the hour for _you_ to +turn round and be guilty of high treason to our Greeks. I cry '_Ai_! +_ai_!' as if I were a chorus, and all vainly. For, you see, arguing +about it will only convince you of my obstinacy, and not a bit of +Homer's supremacy. Ossian has wrapt you in a cloud, a fog, a true +Scotch mist. You have caught cold in the critical faculty, perhaps. At +any rate, I can't see a bit more of your reasonableness than I can see +of Fingal. _Sic transit_! Homer like the darkened half of the moon +in eclipse! You have spoilt for me now the finest image in your +Ossian-Macpherson. + +My dearest Mr. Boyd, you will find as few believers in the genuineness +of these volumes among the most accomplished antiquarians in poetry +as in the genuineness of Chatterton's Rowley, and of Ireland's +Shakespeare. The latter impostures boasted of disciples in the first +instance, but the discipleship perished by degrees, and the place +thereof, during this present 1843, knows it no more. So has it been +with the belief in Macpherson's Ossian. Of those who believed in the +poems at the first sight of them, who kept his creed to the end? And +speaking so, I speak of Macpherson's contemporaries whom you respect. + +I do not consider Walter Scott a great poet, but he was highly +accomplished in matters of poetical antiquarianism, and is certainly +citable as an authority on this question. + +Try not to be displeased with me. I cannot conceal from you that my +astonishment is profound and unutterable at your new religion--your +new faith in this pseud-Ossian--and your desecration, in his service, +of the old Hellenic altars. And by the way, my own figure reminds me +to inquire of you whether you are not sometimes struck with a _want_ +in him--a want very grave in poetry, and very strange in antique +poetry--the want of devotional feeling and conscience of God. Observe, +that all antique poets rejoice greatly and abundantly in their divine +mythology; and that if this Ossian be both antique and godless, he is +an exception, a discrepancy, a monster in the history of letters and +experience of humanity. As such I leave him. + +Oh, how angry you will be with me. But you seemed tolerably prepared +in your last letter for my being in a passion.... Ever affectionately +yours, + +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +Why should I be angry with Flush? _He_ does not believe in Ossian. Oh, +I assure you he doesn't. + + +The following letter was called forth by a criticism of Mr. Kenyon's +on Miss Barrett's poem, _The Dead Pan_, which he had seen in +manuscript; but it also meets some criticisms which others had made +upon her last volume (see above, p. 65). + + +_To John Kenyan_ +Wimpole Street: March 25, 1843. + +My very dear Cousin,--Your kindness having touched me much, and your +good opinion, whether literary or otherwise, being of great price to +me, it is even with tears in my eyes that I begin to write to you upon +a difference between us. And what am I to say? To admit, of course, +in the first place, the injuriousness to the 'popularity,' of the +scriptural tone. But am I to sacrifice a principle to popularity? +Would you advise me to do so? Should I be more worthy of your kindness +by doing so? and could you (apart from the kindness) call my refusal +to do so either perverseness or obstinacy? Even if you could, I hope +you will try a little to be patient with me, and to forgive, at least, +what you find it impossible to approve. + +My dear cousin, if you had not reminded me of Wordsworth's +exclamation-- + + I would rather be + A pagan, suckled in a creed outworn-- + +and if he had never made it, I do think that its significance would +have occurred to me, by a sort of instinct, in connection with this +discussion. Certainly _I_ would rather be a pagan whose religion +was actual, earnest, continual--for week days, work days, and song +days--than I would be a _Christian_ who, from whatever motive, shrank +from hearing or uttering the name of Christ out of a 'church.' I am no +fanatic, but I like truth and earnestness in all things, and I cannot +choose but believe that such a Christian shows but ill beside such +a pagan. What pagan poet ever thought of casting his gods out of +his poetry? In what pagan poem do they not shine and thunder? And if +_I_--to approach the point in question--if _I_, writing a poem the +end of which is the extolment of what I consider to be Christian truth +over the pagan myths shrank even _there_ from naming the name of my +God lest it should not meet the sympathies of some readers, or lest it +should offend the delicacies of other readers, or lest, generally, +it should be unfit for the purposes of poetry in what more forcible +manner than by that act (I appeal to Philip against Philip) can I +controvert my own poem, or secure to myself and my argument a logical +and unanswerable shame? If Christ's name is improperly spoken in that +poem, then indeed is Schiller right, and the true gods of poetry are +to be sighed for mournfully. For be sure that _Burns_ was right, and +that a poet without devotion is below his own order, and that poetry +without religion will gradually lose its elevation. And then, my dear +friend, we do not live among dreams. The Christian religion is true or +it is not, and if it is true it offers the highest and purest objects +of contemplation. And the poetical faculty, which expresses the +highest moods of the mind, passes naturally to the highest objects. +Who can separate these things? Did Dante? Did Tasso? Did Petrarch? Did +Calderon? Did Chaucer? Did the poets of our best British days? Did any +one of these shrink from speaking out Divine names when the occasion +came? Chaucer, with all his jubilee of spirit and resounding laughter, +had the name of Jesus Christ and God as frequently to familiarity on +his lips as a child has its father's name. You say 'our religion +is not vital--not week-day--enough.' Forgive me, but _that_ is a +confession of a wrong, not an argument. And if a poet be a poet, it is +his business to work for the elevation and purification of the public +mind, rather than for his own popularity! while if he be not a poet, +no sacrifice of self-respect will make amends for a defective faculty, +nor _ought_ to make amends. + +My conviction is that the _poetry of Christianity_ will one day be +developed greatly and nobly, and that in the meantime we are wrong, +poetically as morally, in desiring to restrain it. No, I never felt +repelled by any Christian phraseology in Cowper--although he is not a +favorite poet of mine from other causes--nor in Southey, nor even +in James Montgomery, nor in Wordsworth where he writes +'ecclesiastically,' nor in Christopher North, nor in Chateaubriand, +nor in Lamartine. + +It is but two days ago since I had a letter--and not from a +fanatic--to reproach my poetry for not being Christian enough, and +this is not the first instance, nor the second, of my receiving such +a reproach. I tell you this to open to you the possibility of another +side to the question, which makes, you see, a triangle of it! + +Can you bear with such a long answer to your letter, and forbear +calling it a 'preachment'? There may be such a thing as an awkward and +untimely introduction of religion, I know, and I have possibly +been occasionally guilty in this way. But for _my principle_ I must +contend, for it is a poetical principle _and more_, and an entire +sincerity in respect to it is what I owe to you and to myself. Try to +forgive me, dear Mr. Kenyon. I would propitiate your indulgence for me +by a libation of your own eau de Cologne poured out at your feet! +It is excellent eau de Cologne, and you are very kind to me, +but, notwithstanding all, there is a foreboding within me that my +'conventicleisms' will be inodorous in your nostrils. + +[_Incomplete_.] + + +_To John Kenyon_ +Tuesday [about March 1843]. + +My very dear Cousin,--I have read your letter again and again, and +feel your kindness fully and earnestly. You have advised me about the +poem,[74] entering into the questions referring to it with the warmth +rather of the author of it than the critic of it, and this I am +sensible of as absolutely as anyone can be. At the same time, I have a +strong perception rather than opinion about the poem, and also, if you +would not think it too serious a word to use in such a place, I have +a _conscience_ about it. It was not written in a desultory fragmentary +way, the last stanzas thrown in, as they might be thrown out, but with +a _design_, which leans its whole burden on the last stanzas. In fact, +the last stanzas were in my mind to say, and all the others presented +the mere avenue to the end of saying them. Therefore I cannot throw +them out--I cannot yield to the temptation even of pleasing _you_ by +doing so; I make a compromise with myself, and _do not throw them +out, and do not print the poem_. Now say nothing against this, my dear +cousin, because I am obstinate, as you know, as you have good evidence +for knowing. I _will not_ either alter or print it. Then you have your +manuscript copy, which you can cut into any shape you please as long +as you keep it out of print; and seeing that the poem really does +belong to you, having had its origin in your paraphrase of Schiller's +stanzas, I see a great deal of poetical justice in the manuscript +copyright remaining in your hands. For the rest I shall have quite +enough to print and to be responsible for without it, and I am quite +satisfied to let it be silent for a few years until either I or you +(as may be the case even with _me_!) shall have revised our judgments +in relation to it. + +This being settled, you must suffer me to explain (for mere personal +reasons, and not for the good of the poem) that no mortal priest (of +St. Peter's or otherwise) is referred to in a particular stanza, but +the Saviour Himself. Who is 'the High Priest of our profession,' and +the only 'priest' recognised in the New Testament. In the same way the +altar candles are altogether spiritual, or they could not be supposed, +even by the most amazing poetical exaggeration, to 'light the earth +and skies.' I explain this, only that I may not appear to you to have +compromised the principle of the poem, by compromising any truth (such +in my eyes) for the sake of a poetical effect. + +And now I will not say any more. I know that you will be inclined +to cry, 'Print it in any case,' but I will entreat of your kindness, +which I have so much right to trust in while entreating, _not to say +one such word. Be kind, and let me follow my own way silently_. I have +not, indeed, like a spoilt child in a fret, thrown the poem up because +I would not alter it, though you have done much to spoil me. I act +advisedly, and have made up my mind as to what is the wisest and best +thing to do, and personally the pleasantest to myself, after a good +deal of serious reflection. 'Pan is dead,' and so best, for the +present at least. + +I shall take your advice about the preface in every respect, and +thanks for the letter and Taylor's memoirs. + +Miss Mitford talks of coming to town for a day, and of bringing Flush +with her, as soon as the weather settles, and to-day looks so like +it that I have mused this morning on the possibility of breaking +my prison doors and getting into the next room. Only there is a +forbidding north wind, they say. + +Don't be vexed with me, dear Mr. Kenyon. You know there are +obstinacies in the world as well as mortalities, and thereto +appertaining. And then you will perceive through all mine, that it is +difficult for me to act against your judgment so far as to put my own +tenacity into print. + +Ever gratefully and affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 74: 'The Dead Pan' (_Poetical Works_, iii. 280).] + + +It is to the honour of America that it recognised from the first the +genius of Miss Barrett; and for a large part of her life some of the +closest of her personal and literary connections were with Americans. +The same is true in both respects of Robert Browning. As appears from +some letters printed farther on in these volumes, at a time when the +sale of his poems in England was almost infinitesimal, they were known +and highly prized in the United States. Expressions of Mrs. Browning's +sympathy with America and of gratitude for the kindly feelings of +Americans recur frequently in the letters, and it is probable that +there are still extant in the States many letters written to friends +and correspondents there. Only three or four such have been made +available for the present collection; and of these the first follows +here in its place in the chronological sequence. It was written to Mr. +Cornelius Mathews, then editor of 'Graham's Magazine,' who had +invited Miss Barrett to send contributions to his periodical. The warm +expression in it of sympathy with the poetry of Robert Browning, whom +she did not yet know personally, is especially interesting to readers +of this later day, who, like the spectators at a Greek tragedy, watch +the development of a drama of which the _dénouement_ is already known +to them. + + +_To Cornelius Mathews_ +50 Wimpole Street: April 28, 1843. + +My dear Mr. Mathews,--In replying to your kind letter I send some +more verse for Graham's, praying such demi-semi-gods as preside over +contributors to magazines that I may not appear over-loquacious to +my editor. Of course it is not intended to thrust three or four poems +into one number. My pluralities go to you simply to 'bide your +time,' and be used one by one as the opportunity is presented. In the +meanwhile you have received, I hope, a short letter written to explain +my unwillingness to apply, as you desired me at first, to Wiley and +Putnam--an unwillingness justified by what you told me afterwards. +I did not apply, nor have I applied, and I would rather not apply +at all. Perhaps I shall hear from them presently. The pamphlet on +International Copyright is welcome at a distance, but it has not come +near me yet; and for all your kindness in relation to the prospective +gift of your works I thank you again and earnestly. You are kind to me +in many ways, and I would willingly know as much of your intellectual +habits as you teach me of your genial feelings. This 'Pathfinder' +(what an excellent name for an American journal!) I also owe to you, +with the summing up of your performances in it, and with a notice +of Mr. Browning's 'Blot on the Scutcheon,' which would make one +poet furious (the 'infelix Talfourd') and another a little +melancholy--namely, Mr. Browning himself. There is truth on both +sides, but it seems to me hard truth on Browning. I do assure you I +never saw him in my life--do not know him even by correspondence--and +yet, whether through fellow-feeling for Eleusinian mysteries, or +whether through the more generous motive of appreciation of his +powers, I am very sensitive to the thousand and one stripes with which +the assembly of critics doth expound its vocation over him, and the +'Athenaeum,' for instance, made me quite cross and misanthropical last +week.[75] The truth is--and the world should know the truth--it is +easier to find a more faultless writer than a poet of equal genius. +Don't let us fall into the category of the sons of Noah. Noah was once +drunk, indeed, but once he built the ark. Talking of poets, would +your 'Graham's Miscellany' care at all to have occasional poetical +contributions from Mr. Horne? I am in correspondence with him, and +I think I could manage an arrangement upon the same terms as my +engagement rests on, if you please and your friends please, that is, +and without formality, if it should give you any pleasure. He is a +writer of great power, I think. And this reminds me that you may be +looking all the while for the 'Athenaeum's' reply to your friend's +proposition--of which I lost no time in apprising the editor, Mr. +Dilke, and here are some of his words: 'An American friend who had +been long in England, and often conversed with me on the subject, +resolved on his return to establish such a correspondence. In all +things worth knowing--all reviews of good books' (which 'are published +first or simultaneously,' says Mr. Dilke, 'in London'), 'he was +anticipated, and after some months he was driven of necessity to +geological surveys, centenary celebrations, progress of railroads, +manufactures, &c., and thus the prospect was abandoned altogether.' +Having made this experiment, Mr. Dilke is unwilling to risk another. +Neither must we blame him for the reserve. When the international +copyright shall at once protect the national _meum_ and _tuum_ in +literature and give it additional fullness and value, we shall cease +to say insolently to you that what we want of your books we will get +without your help, but as it is, the Mr. Dilkes of us have nothing +much more courteous to do. I wish I could have been of any use to +your friend--I have done what I could. In regard to critical papers +of mine, I would willingly give myself up to you, seeing your good +nature; but it is the truth that I never published any prose papers +at all except the series on the Greek Christian poets and the other +series on the English poets in the 'Athenaeum' of last year, and both +of which you have probably seen. Afterwards I threw up my brief and +went back to my poetry, in which I feel that I must do whatever I am +equal to doing at all. That life is short and art long appears to us +more true than usual when we lie all day long on a sofa and are as +frightened of the east wind as if it were a tiger. Life is not only +short, but uncertain, and art is not only long, but absorbing. What +have I to do with writing '_scandal_' (as Mr. Jones would say) upon +my neighbour's work, when I have not finished my own? So I threw up my +brief into Mr. Dilke's hands, and went back to my verses. Whenever I +print another volume you shall have it, if Messrs. Wiley and Putnam +will convey it to you. How can I send you, by the way, anything I may +have to send you? Why will you not, as a nation, embrace our great +penny post scheme, and hold our envelopes in all acceptation? You do +not know--cannot guess--what a wonderful liberty our Rowland Hill has +given to British spirits, and how we '_flash_ a thought' instead of +'wafting' it from our extreme south to our extreme north, paying 'a +penny for our thought' and for the electricity included. I recommend +you our penny postage as the most successful revolution since the +'glorious three days' of Paris. + +And so, you made merry with my scorn of my 'Prometheus.' Believe +me--believe me absolutely--I did not strike that others might spare, +but from an earnest remorse. When you know me better, you will know, +I hope, that I am _true_, whether right or wrong, and you know already +that I am right in this thing, the only merit of the translation being +its closeness. Can I be of any use to you, dear Mr. Mathews? When I +can, make use of me. You surprise and disappoint me in your sketch of +the Boston poet, for the letter he wrote to me struck me as frank and +honest. I wonder if he made any use of the verses I sent him; and +I wonder what I sent him--for I never made a note of it, through +negligence, and have quite forgotten. Are you acquainted with +Mrs. Sigourney? She has offended us much by her exposition of Mrs. +Southey's letter, and I must say not without cause. I rejoice in the +progress of 'Wakondah,' wishing the influences of mountain and river +to be great over him and in him. And so I will say the 'God bless you' +your kindness cares to hear, and remain, + +Sincerely and thankfully yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +_(Endorsed in another hand)_ +E.B. Barrett, London, received May 12, 1843, +4 poems, previously furnished to _Graham's Magazine_, $50. + +[Footnote 75: The _Athenaeum_ of April 22 contained a review of +Browning's 'Dramatic Lyrics,' charging him with taking pleasure in +being enigmatical, and declaring this to be a sign of weakness, not +strength. It spoke of many of the pieces composing the volume as being +rather fragments and sketches than having any right to independent +existence.] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +May 1, 1843 + +My dear Cousin,--Here is my copyright for you, and you will see that I +have put 'word' instead of 'sound,' as certainly the proper 'word.' Do +let me thank you once more for all the trouble and interest you have +taken with me and in me. Observe besides that I have altered the title +according to your unconscious suggestion, and made it 'The Dead +Pan,' which is a far better name, I think, than the repetition of the +_refrain_. + +But I spoil my exemplary docility so far, by confessing that I don't +like 'scornful children' half--no, not half so well as my 'railing +children,' although, to be sure, you proved to me that the last was +nigh upon nonsense. You proved it--that is, you almost proved it, for +don't we say--at least, _mightn't_ we say--'the thunder was silent'? +'_thunder_' involving the idea of noise, as much as 'railing children' +do. Consider this--I give it up to you.[76] + +I am ashamed to have kept Carlyle so long, but I quite failed in +trying to read him at my "usual pace--he _won't_ be read quick. After +all, and full of beauty and truth as that book is, and strongly as it +takes hold of my sympathies, there is nothing new in it--not even a +new Carlyleism, which I do not say by way of blaming the book, because +the author of it might use words like the apostle's: 'To write the +same things unto you, to me indeed is not grievous, and to you it is +safe.' The world being blind and deaf and rather stupid, requires a +reiteration of certain uncongenial truths.... + +Thank you for the address. +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + +I observe that the _most questionable rhymes_ are not objected to by +Mr. Merivale; also--but this letter is too long already. + +[Footnote 76: Mr. Kenyon's view evidently prevailed, for stanza 19 now +has 'scornful children.'] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +May 3, 1843. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--If _you_ promised (which you did), _I_ ought +to have promised--and therefore we may ask each other's pardon.... + +How is the dog? and how does dear Mr. Martin find himself in Arcadia? +Do we all stand in his recollection like a species of fog, or a +concentrated essence of brick wall? How I wish--and since I said it +aloud to you I have often wished it over in a whisper--that you would +put away your romance, or cut it in two, and spend six months of the +year in London with us! Miss Mitford believes that wishes, if wished +hard enough, realise themselves, but my experience has taught me a +less cheerful creed. Only if wishes _do_ realise themselves! + +Miss Mitford is at Bath, where she has spent one week and is about to +spend two, and then goes on her way into Devonshire. She amused me so +the other day by desiring me to look at the date of Mr. Landor's poems +in their first edition, because she was sure that it must be fifty +years since, and she finds him at this 1843, the very Lothario +of Bath, enchanting the wives, making jealous the husbands, and +'enjoying,' altogether, the worst of reputations. I suggested that +if she proved him to be seventy-five, as long as he proved himself +enchanting, it would do no manner of good in the way of practical +ethics; and that, besides, for her to travel round the world to +investigate gentlemen's ages was invidious, and might be alarming as +to the safe inscrutability of ladies' ages. She is delighted with the +_scenery of Bath_, which certainly, take it altogether, marble and +mountains, is the most beautiful town I ever looked upon. Cheltenham, +I think, is a mere commonplace to it, although the avenues are +beautiful, to be sure.... + +Mrs. Southey complains that she has lost half her income by her +marriage, and her friend Mr. Landor is anxious to persuade, by the +means of intermediate friends, Sir Robert Peel to grant her a pension. +She is said to be in London now, and has at least left Keswick for +ever. It is not likely that Wordsworth should come here this year, +which I am sorry for now, although I should certainly be sorry if he +did come. A happy state of contradiction, not confined either to that +particular movement or no-movement, inasmuch as I was gratified by his +sending me the poem you saw, and yet read it with such extreme pain as +to incapacitate me from judging of it. Such stuff we are made of! + +This is a long letter--and you are tired, I feel by instinct! + +May God bless you, my dearest Mrs. Martin. Give my love to Mr. Martin, +and think of me as + +Your very affectionate, + +BA. + +Henry and Daisy have been to see the _lying in state_, as lying stark +and dead is called whimsically, of the Duke of Sussex. It was a fine +sight, they say. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +May 9, 1843 [postmark]. + +My very dear Friend,--I thank you much for the copies of your +'Anti-Puseyistic Pugilism.' The papers reached my hands quite safely +and so missed setting the world on fire; and I shall be as wary of +them evermore (be sure) as if they were gunpowder. Pray send them +to Mary Hunter. Why not? Why should you think that I was likely to +'object' to your doing so? She will laugh. _I_ laughed, albeit in no +smiling mood; for I have been transmigrating from one room to another, +and your packet found me half tired and half excited, and _whole_ +grave. But I could not choose but laugh at your Oxford charge; and +when I had counted your great guns and javelin points and other +military appurtenances of the Punic war, I said to myself--or to +Flush, 'Well, Mr. Boyd will soon be back again with the dissenters.' +Upon which I think Flush said, 'That's a comfort.' + +Mary's direction is, 111 London Road, Brighton. You ought to send +the verses to her yourself, if you mean to please her entirely: and +I cannot agree with you that there is the slightest danger in sending +them by the post. Letters are never opened, unless you tempt the flesh +by putting sovereigns, or shillings, or other metallic substances +inside the envelope; and if the devil entered into me causing me +to write a libel against the Queen, I would send it by the post +fearlessly from John o' Groat's to Land's End inclusive. + +One of your best puns, if not the best, + + Hatching succession apostolical, + With other falsehoods diabolical, + +lies in an octosyllabic couplet; and what business has _that_ in your +heroic libel? + +The 'pearl' of maidens sends her love to you. + +Your very affectionate +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +May 14, 1843. + +My very dear Friend,--I hear with wonder from Arabel of your +repudiation of my word 'octosyllabic' for the two lines in your +controversial poem. Certainly, if you count the syllables on your +fingers, there are ten syllables in each line: of _that_ I am +perfectly aware; but the lines are none the less belonging to the +species of versification called octosyllabic. Do you not observe, my +dearest Mr. Boyd, that the final accent and rhyme fall on the eighth +syllable instead of the tenth, and that _that_ single circumstance +determines the class of verse--that they are in fact octosyllabic +verses with triple rhymes? + + Hatching succession apostolical, + With other falsehoods diabolical. + +Pope has double rhymes in his heroic verses, but how does he manage +them? Why, he admits eleven syllables, throwing the final accent and +rhyme on the tenth, thus: + + Worth makes the man, and want of it the f_e_llow, + The rest is nought but leather and prun_e_lla. + +Again, if there is a double rhyme to an octosyllabic verse, there +are always _nine_ syllables in that verse, the final accent and rhyme +falling on the eighth syllable, thus: + + Compound for sins that we're incl_i_ned to, + By damning those we have no m_i_nd to. + +('Hudibras.') + +Again, if there is a triple rhyme to an octosyllabic verse (precisely +the present case) there must always be ten syllables in that verse, +the final accent and rhyme falling on the eighth syllable; thus from +'Hudibras' again: + + Then in their robes the penit_e_ntials + Are straight presented with cred_e_ntials. + Remember how in arms and p_o_litics, + We still have worsted all your h_o_ly tricks. + +You will admit that these last couplets are precisely of the same +structure as yours, and certainly they are octosyllabics, and made use +of by Butler in an octosyllabic poem, whereas yours, to be rendered of +the heroic structure, should run thus: + + Hatching at ease succession apostolical, + With many other falsehoods diabolical. + +I have written a good deal about an oversight on your part of little +consequence; but as you charged me with a mistake made in cold blood +and under corrupt influences from Lake-mists, why I was determined to +make the matter clear to you. And as to the _influences_, if I were +guilty of this mistake, or of a thousand mistakes, Wordsworth would +not be guilty _in_ me. I think of him now, exactly as I thought of him +during the first years of my friendship for you, only with _an equal_ +admiration. He was a great poet to me always, and always, while I have +a soul for poetry, will be so; yet I said, and say in an under-voice, +but steadfastly, that Coleridge was the grander genius. There is +scarcely anything newer in my estimation of Wordsworth than in the +colour of my eyes! + +Perhaps I was wrong in saying '_a pun._' But I thought I apprehended a +double sense in your application of the term 'Apostolical succession' +to Oxford's 'breeding' and 'hatching,' words which imply succession in +a way unecclesiastical. + +After all which quarrelling, I am delighted to have to talk of your +coming nearer to me--within reach--almost within my reach. Now if I am +able to go in a carriage at all this summer, it will be hard but that +I manage to get across the park and serenade you in Greek under your +window. + +Your ever affectionate +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +May 18, 1843. + +My very dear Friend,--Yes, you have surprised me! + +I always have thought of you, and I always think and say, that you are +truthful and candid in a supreme degree, and therefore it is not your +candour about Wordsworth which surprises me. + +He had the kindness to send me the poem upon Grace Darling when it +first appeared; and with a curious mixture of feelings (for I was much +gratified by his attention in sending it) I yet read it with _so_ much +pain from the nature of the subject, that my judgment was scarcely +free to consider the poetry--I could scarcely determine to myself what +I _thought_ of it from feeling too much. + +_But_ I do confess to you, my dear friend, that I suspect--through the +mist of my sensations--the poem in question to be very inferior to his +former poems; I confess that the impression left on my mind is, of +its decided inferiority, and I have heard that the poet's friends and +critics (all except _one_) are mourning over its appearance; sighing +inwardly, 'Wordsworth is old.' + +One thing is clear to me, however, and over _that_ I rejoice and +triumph greatly. If you can esteem this poem of 'Grace Darling,' you +must be susceptible to the grandeur and beauty of the poems which +preceded it; and the cause of your past reluctance to recognise the +poet's power must be, as I have always suspected, from your having +given a very partial attention and consideration to his poetry. You +were partial in your attention _I_, perhaps, was injudicious in my +extracts; but with your truth and his genius, I cannot doubt but that +the time will come for your mutual amity. Oh that I could stand as a +herald of peace, with my wool-twisted fillet! I do not understand the +Greek metres as well as you do, but I understand Wordsworth's genius +better, and do you forgive that it should console me. + +I will ask about his collegian extraction. Such a question never +occurred to me. Apollo taught him under the laurels, while all the +Muses looked through the boughs. + +Your ever affectionate +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT, + +Oh, yes, it delights me that you should be nearer. Of course you know +that Wordsworth is Laureate.[77] + +[Footnote 77: Wordsworth was nominated Poet Laureate after the death +of Southey in March 1843.] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +May 19, 1843, + +Thank you, my dear cousin, for all your kindness to me. There is +ivy enough for a thyrsus, and I almost feel ready to enact a sort of +Bacchus triumphalis 'for jollitie,' as I see it already planted, and +looking in at me through the window. I never thought to see such a +sight as _that_ in my London room, and am overwhelmed with my own +glory. + +And then Mr. Browning's note! Unless you say 'nay' to me, I shall keep +this note, which has pleased me so much, yet not more than it ought. +_Now_, I forgive Mr. Merivale for his hard thoughts of my easy rhymes. +But all this pleasure, my dear Mr. Kenyon, I owe to _you_, and shall +remember that I do. + +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +May 26, 1843. + +... I thank you for your part in the gaining of my bed, dearest Mrs. +Martin, most earnestly; and am quite ready to believe that it +was gained by _wishdom_, which believing is wisdom! No, you would +certainly never recognise my prison if you were to see it. The bed, +like a sofa and no Bed; the large table placed out in the room, +towards the wardrobe end of it; the sofa rolled where a sofa should be +rolled--opposite the arm-chair: the drawers crowned with a coronal +of shelves fashioned by Sette and Co. (of papered deal and crimson +merino) to carry my books; the washing table opposite turned into a +cabinet with another coronal of shelves; and Chaucer's and Homer's +busts in guard over these two departments of English and Greek +poetry; three more busts consecrating the wardrobe which there was no +annihilating; and the window--oh, I must take a new paragraph for the +window, I am out of breath. + +In the window is fixed a deep box full of soil, where are _springing +up_ my scarlet runners, nasturtiums, and convolvuluses, although they +were disturbed a few days ago by the revolutionary insertion among +them of a great ivy root with trailing branches so long and wide that +the top tendrils are fastened to Henrietta's window of the higher +storey, while the lower ones cover all my panes. It is Mr. Kenyon's +gift. He makes the like to flourish out of mere flowerpots, and +embower his balconies and windows, and why shouldn't this flourish +with me? But certainly--there is no shutting my eyes to the fact that +it does droop a little. Papa prophesies hard things against it every +morning, 'Why, Ba, it looks worse and worse,' and everybody preaches +despondency. I, however, persist in being sanguine, looking out for +new shoots, and making a sure pleasure in the meanwhile by listening +to the sound of the leaves against the pane, as the wind lifts them +and lets them fall. Well, what do you think of my ivy? Ask Mr. Martin, +if he isn't jealous already. + +Have you read 'The Neighbours,' Mary Howitt's translation of Frederica +Bremer's Swedish? Yes, perhaps. Have you read 'The Home,'[1] fresh +from the same springs? _Do_, if you have not. It has not only charmed +me, but made me happier and better: it is fuller of Christianity than +the most orthodox controversy in Christendom; and represents to +my perception or imagination a perfect and beautiful embodiment of +Christian outward life from the inward, purely and tenderly. At the +same time, I should tell you that Sette says, 'I might have liked it +ten years ago, but it is too young and silly to give me any pleasure +now.' For _me_, however, it is not too young, and perhaps it won't be +for you and Mr. Martin. As to Sette, he is among the patriarchs, to +say nothing of the lawyers--and there we leave him.... + +Ever your affectionate +BA. + +_To John Kenyan_ +50 Wimpole Street: +Wednesday, or is it Thursday? [summer 1843]. + +My dear Cousin,--... I send you my friend Mr. Horne's new epic,[78] +and beg you, if you have an opportunity, to drop it at Mr. Eagles' +feet, so that he may pick it up and look at it. I have not gone +through it (I have another copy), but it appears to me to be full of +fine things. As to the author's fantasy of selling it for a farthing, +I do not enter into the secret of it--unless, indeed, he should +intend a sarcasm on the age's generous patronage of poetry, which is +possible. + +[Footnote 78: _Orion_, the early editions of which were sold at a +farthing, in accordance with a fancy of the author. Miss Barrett +reviewed it in the _Athenaum_ (July 1843).] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +June 30, 1843. + +Thank you, my dear Mr. Kenyon, for the Camden Society books, and also +for these which I return; and also for the hope of seeing you, which +I kept through yesterday. I honor Mrs. Coleridge for the readiness of +reasoning and integrity in reasoning, for the learning, energy, and +impartiality which she has brought to her purpose, and I agree with +her in many of her objects; and disagree, by opposing her opponents +with a fuller front than she is always inclined to do. In truth, I +can never see anything in these sacramental ordinances except a +prospective sign in one (Baptism), and a memorial sign in the +other, the Lord's Supper, and could not recognise either under any +modification as a peculiar instrument of grace, mystery, or the like. +The tendencies we have towards making mysteries of God's simplicities +are as marked and sure as our missing the actual mystery upon +occasion. God's love is the true mystery, and the sacraments are only +too simple for us to understand. So you see I have read the book in +spite of prophecies. After all I should like to cut it in two--it +would be better for being shorter--and it might be clearer also. There +is, in fact, some dullness and perplexity--a few passages which are, +to my impression, contradictory of the general purpose--something +which is not generous, about nonconformity--and what I cannot help +considering a superfluous tenderness for Puseyism. Moreover she is +certainly wrong in imagining that the ante-Nicene fathers did not as +a body teach regeneration by baptism--even Gregory Nazianzen, the most +spiritual of many, did, and in the fourth century. But, after all, +as a work of theological controversy it is very un-bitter and +well-poised, gentle, and modest, and as the work of a woman _you_ must +admire it and _we_ be proud of it--_that_ remains certain at last. + +Poor Mr. Haydon! I am so sorry for his reverse in the cartoons.[79] It +is a thunderbolt to him. I wonder, in the pauses of my regret, whether +Mr. Selous is _your_ friend--whether 'Boadicea visiting the Druids,' +suggested by you, I think, as a subject, is this victorious 'Boadicea' +down for a hundred pound prize? You will tell me when you come. + +I have just heard an uncertain rumour of the arrival of your brother. +If it is not all air, I congratulate you heartily upon a happiness +only not past my appreciation. + +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + +I send the copy of 'Orion' for _yourself_, which you asked for. It is +in the fourth edition. + +[Footnote 79: This refers to the competition for the cartoons to be +painted in the Houses of Parliament, in which Haydon was unsuccessful. +The disappointment was the greater, inasmuch as the scheme for +decorating the building with historical pictures was mainly due to his +initiative.] + + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +July 8, 1843. + +Thank you, my dearest Mrs. Martin, for your kind sign of interest in +the questioning note, although I will not praise the _stenography_ of +it. I shall be as brief to-day as you, not quite out of revenge, +but because I have been writing to George and am the less prone to +activities from having caught cold in an inscrutable manner, and being +stiff and sore from head to foot and inclined to be a little feverish +and irritable of nerves. No, it is not of the slightest consequence; +I tell you the truth. But I would have written to you the day before +yesterday if it had not been for this something between cramp and +rheumatism, which was rather unbearable at first, but yesterday was +better, and is to-day better than better, and to-morrow will leave me +quite well, if I may prophesy. I only mention it lest you should have +upbraided me for not answering your note in a moment, as it deserved +to be answered. So don't put any nonsense into Georgie's head--forgive +me for beseeching you! I have been very well--downstairs seven or +eight times; lying on the floor in Papa's room; meditating _the +chair_, which would have amounted to more than a meditation except +for this little contrariety. In a day or two more, if this cool warmth +perseveres in serving me, and no Ariel refills me 'with aches,' I +shall fulfil your kind wishes perhaps and be out--and so, no more +about me!... + +Oh, I do believe you think me a Cockney--a metropolitan barbarian! But +I persist in seeing no merit and no superior innocence in being shut +up even in precincts of rose-trees, away from those great sources +of human sympathy and occasions of mental elevation and instruction +without which many natures grow narrow, many others gloomy, and +perhaps, if the truth were known, very few prosper entirely, lit is +not that I, who have always lived a good deal in solitude and live +in it still more now, and love the country even painfully in my +recollections of it, would decry either one or the other--solitude +is most effective in a contrast, and if you do not break the bark +you cannot bud the tree, and, in short (not to be _in long_), I could +write a dissertation, which I will spare you, 'about it and about it.' +... + +Tell George to lend you--nay, I think I will be generous and let him +give you, although the author gave me the book--the copy of the new +epic, 'Orion,' which he has with him. You have probably observed the +advertisement, and are properly instructed that Mr. Horne the poet, +who has sold three editions already at a farthing a copy, and is +selling a fourth at a shilling, and is about to sell a fifth at half +a crown (on the precise principle of the aërial machine--launching +himself into popularity by a first impulse on the people), is my +unknown friend, with whom I have corresponded these four years without +having seen his face. Do you remember the beech leaves sent to me from +Epping Forest? Yes, you must. Well, the sender is the poet, and the +poem I think a very noble one, and I want you to think so too. So +hereby I empower you to take it away from George and keep it for my +sake--if you will! + +Dear Mr. Martin was so kind as to come and see me as you commanded, +and I must tell you that I thought him looking so better than well +that I was more than commonly glad to see him. Give my love to him, +and join me in as much metropolitan missionary zeal as will bring you +both to London for six months of the year. Oh, I wish you would come! +Not that it is necessary for _you_, but that it will be _so_ good for +_us_. + +My ivy is growing, and I have _green blinds_, against which there is +an outcry. They say that I do it out of envy, and for the equalisation +of complexions. + +Ever your affectionate, +BA. + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +50 Wimpole Street: August 1843. + +Dear Mr. Westwood,--I thank you very much for the kindness of your +questioning, and am able to answer that notwithstanding the, as it +seems to you, fatal significance of a woman's silence, I am alive +enough to be sincerely grateful for any degree of interest spent upon +me. As to Flush, he should thank you too, but at the present moment he +is quite absorbed in finding a cool place in this room to lie down in, +having sacrificed his usual favorite place at my feet, his head upon +them, oppressed by the torrid necessity of a thermometer above 70. To +Flopsy's acquaintance he would aspire gladly, only hoping that Flopsy +does not 'delight to bark and bite,' like dogs in general, because if +he does Flush would as soon be acquainted with a _cat_, he says, for +he does not pretend to be a hero. Poor Flush! 'the bright summer days +on which I am ever likely to take him out for a ramble over hill and +meadow' are never likely to shine! But he follows, or rather leaps +into my wheeled chair, and forswears merrier company even now, to be +near me. I am a good deal better, it is right to say, and look forward +to a possible prospect of being better still, though I may be shut out +from climbing the Brocken otherwise than in a vision. + +You will see by the length of the 'Legend'[80] which I send to you (in +its only printed form) _why_ I do not send it to you in manuscript. +Keep the book as long as you please. My new volume is not yet in the +press, but I am writing more and more in a view to it, pleased with +the thought that some kind hands are already stretched out in welcome +and acceptance of what it may become. Not as idle as I appear, I have +also been writing some fugitive verses for American magazines. This is +my confession. Forgive its tediousness, and believe me thankfully and +very sincerely yours, + +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 80: _The Lay of the Brown Rosary_.] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +50 Wimpole Street: September 2, 1843. + +Dear Mr. Westwood,--Your letter comes to remind me how much I ought to +be ashamed of myself.... I received the book in all safety, and read +your kind words about my 'Rosary' with more grateful satisfaction than +appears from the evidence. It is great pleasure to me to have written +for such readers, and it is great hope to me to be able to write for +them. The transcription of the 'Rosary' is a compliment which I never +anticipated, or you should have had the manuscript copy you asked for, +although I have not a perfect one in my hands. The poem is full of +faults, as, indeed, all my poems appear to myself to be when I look +back upon them instead of looking down. I hope to be worthier in +poetry some day of the generous appreciation which you and your +friends have paid me in advance. + +Tennyson is a great poet, I think, and Browning, the author of +'Paracelsus,' has to my mind very noble capabilities. Do you know Mr. +Horne's 'Orion,' the poem published for a farthing, to the wonder of +booksellers and bookbuyers who could not understand 'the speculation +in its eyes?' There are very fine things in this poem, and altogether +I recommend it to your attention. But what is 'wanting' in Tennyson? +He can think, he can feel, and his language is highly expressive, +characteristic, and harmonious. I am very fond of Tennyson. He makes +me thrill sometimes to the end of my fingers, as only a true great +poet can. + +You praise me kindly, and if, indeed, the considerations you speak of +could be true of me, I am not one who could lament having 'learnt in +suffering what I taught in song.' In any case, working for the future +and counting gladly on those who are likely to consider any work of +mine acceptable to themselves, I shall be very sure not to forget my +friends at Enfield. + +Dear Mr. Westwood, I remain sincerely yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +September 4, 1843. Finished September 5. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin, ... I have had a great gratification within +this week or two in receiving a letter--nay, two letters--from Miss +Martineau, one of the last strangers in the world from whom I had any +right to expect a kindness. Yet most kind, most touching in kindness, +were both of these letters, so much so that I was not far from crying +for pleasure as I read them. She is very hopelessly ill, you are +probably aware, at Tynemouth in Northumberland, suffering agonies from +internal cancer, and conquering occasional repose by the strength of +opium, but 'almost forgetting' (to use her own words) 'to wish for +health, in the intense enjoyment of pleasures independent of the +body.' She sent me a little work of hers called 'Traditions of +Palestine.' Her friends had hoped by the stationary character of some +symptoms that the disease was suspended, but lately it is said to be +gaining ground, and the serenity and elevation of her mind are more +and more triumphantly evident as the bodily pangs thicken.... + +And now I am going to tell you what will surprise you, if you do not +know it already. Stormie and Georgie are passing George's vacation on +the Rhine. You are certainly surprised if you did not know it. Papa +signed and sealed them away on the ground of its being good and +refreshing for both of them, and I was even mixed up a little with the +diplomacy of it, until I found _they were going_, and then it was a +hard, terrible struggle with me to be calm and see them go. But _that_ +was childish, and when I had heard from them at Ostend I grew more +satisfied again, and attained to think less of the fatal influences of +_my star_. They went away in great spirits, Stormie 'quite elated,' to +use his own words, and then at the end of the six weeks they _must_ be +at home at Sessions; and no possible way of passing the interim could +be pleasanter and better and more exhilarating for themselves. The +plan was to go from Ostend by railroad to Brussels and Cologne, then +to pass down the Rhine to Switzerland, spend a few days at Geneva, and +a week in Paris as they return. The only fear is that Stormie won't go +to Paris. We have too many friends there--a strange obstacle. + +Dearest Mrs. Martin, I am doing something more than writing you a +letter, I think. + +May God bless you all with the most enduring consolations! Give my +love to Mr. Martin, and believe also, both of you, in my sympathy. I +am glad that your poor Fanny should be so supported. May God bless her +and all of you! + +Dearest Mrs. Martin's affectionate +BA. + +I am very well for _me_, and was out in the chair yesterday. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +September 8, 1843. + +My very dear Friend,--I ask you humbly not to fancy me in a passion +whenever I happen to be silent. For a woman to be silent is ominous, I +know, but it need not be significant of anything quite so terrible as +ill-humour. And yet it always happens so; if I do not write I am sure +to be cross in your opinion. You set me down directly as 'hurt,' which +means _irritable_; or 'offended,' which means _sulky_; your ideal of +me having, in fact, 'its finger in its eye' all day long. + +I, on the contrary, humbled as I was by your hard criticism of my soft +rhymes about Flush,[81] waited for Arabel to carry a message for me, +begging to know whether you would care at all to see my 'Cry of the +Children'[82] before I sent it to you. But Arabel went without telling +me that she was going: twice she went to St. John's Wood and made no +sign; and now I find myself thrown on my own resources. Will you see +the 'Cry of the Human'[83] or not? It will not please you, probably. +It wants melody. The versification is eccentric to the ear, and the +subject (the factory miseries) is scarcely an agreeable one to the +fancy. Perhaps altogether you had better not see it, because I know +you think me to be deteriorating, and I don't want you to have further +hypothetical evidence of so false an opinion. Humbled as I am, I say +'so false an opinion.' Frankly, if not humbly, I believe myself to +have gained power since the time of the publication of the 'Seraphim,' +and lost nothing except happiness. Frankly, if not humbly! + +With regard to the 'House of Clouds'[84] I disagree both with you and +Miss Mitford, thinking it, comparatively with my other poems, neither +so bad nor so good as you two account it. It has certainly been +singled out for great praise both at home and abroad, and only +the other day Mr. Horne wrote to me to reproach me for not having +mentioned it to him, because he came upon it accidentally and +considered it 'one of my best productions.' Mr. Kenyon holds the same +opinion. As for Flush's verses, they are what I call cobweb verses, +thin and light enough; and Arabel was mistaken in telling you that +Miss Mitford gave the prize to them. Her words were, 'They are as +tender and true as anything you ever wrote, but nothing is equal to +the "House of Clouds."' Those were her words, or to that effect, and I +refer to them to you, not for the sake of Flush's verses, which really +do not appear even to myself, their writer, worth a defence, but for +the sake of _your_ judgment of _her_ accuracy in judging. + +Lately I have received two letters from the profoundest woman thinker +in England, Miss Martineau--letters which touched me deeply while they +gave me pleasure I did not expect. + +My poor Flush has fallen into tribulation. Think of Catiline, the +great savage Cuba bloodhound belonging to this house, attempting last +night to worry him just as the first Catiline did Cicero. Flush was +rescued, but not before he had been wounded severely: and this morning +he is on three legs and in great depression of spirits. My poor, poor +Flushie! He lies on my sofa and looks up to me with most pathetic +eyes. + +Where is Annie? If I send my love to her, will it ever be found again? + +May God bless you both! +Dearest Mr. Boyd's affectionate and grateful +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 81: 'To Flush, my dog' (_Poetical Works_, iii. 19).] + +[Footnote 82: Published in _Blackwood's Magazine_ for August 1843, and +called forth by Mr. Horne's report as assistant commissioner on the +employment of children in mines and manufactories.] + +[Footnote 83: Evidently a slip of the pen for 'Children.'] + +[Footnote 84: _Poetical Works_, iii. 186. Mr. Boyd's opinion of it may +be learnt from Miss Barrett's letter to Horne, dated August 31, 1843 +(_Letters to R.H. Horne_, i. 84): 'Mr. Boyd told me that he had read +my papers on the Greek Fathers with the more satisfaction because he +had inferred from my "House of Clouds" that illness had _impaired my +faculties_.'] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Monday, September 19, 1843. + +My own dear Friend,--I should have written instantly to explain myself +out of appearances which did me injustice, only I have been in such +distress as to have no courage for writing. Flush was stolen away, +and for three days I could neither sleep nor eat, nor do anything much +more rational than cry. _Confiteor tibi_, oh reverend father. And if +you call me very silly, I am so used to the reproach throughout the +week as to be hardened to the point of vanity. The worst of it is, +now, that there will be no need of more 'Houses of Clouds' to prove to +you the deterioration of my faculties. Q.E.D. + +In my own defence, I really believe that my distress arose somewhat +less from the mere separation from dear little Flushie than from the +consideration of how he was breaking his heart, cast upon the cruel +world. Formerly, when he has been prevented from sleeping on my bed he +has passed the night in moaning piteously, and often he has refused to +eat from a strange hand. And then he loves me, heart to heart; there +was no exaggeration in my verses about him, if there was no poetry. +And when I heard that he cried in the street and then vanished, there +was little wonder that I, on my part, should cry in the house. + +With great difficulty we hunted the dog-banditti into their caves of +the city, and bribed them into giving back their victim. Money was the +least thing to think of in such case; I would have given a thousand +pounds if I had had them in my hand. The audacity of the wretched men +was marvellous. They said that they had been 'about stealing Flush +these two years,' and warned us plainly to take care of him for the +future. + +The joy of the meeting between Flush and me would be a good subject +for a Greek ode--I recommend it to you. It might take rank next to the +epical parting of Hector and Andromache. He dashed up the stairs into +my room and into my arms, where I hugged him and kissed him, black as +he was--black as if imbued in a distillation of St. Giles's. Ah, I +can break jests about it _now_, you see. Well, to go back to the +explanations I promised to give you, I must tell you that Arabel +_perfectly forgot_ to say a word to me about 'Blackwood' and your wish +that I should send the magazine. It was only after I heard that you +had procured it yourself, and after I mentioned this to her, that she +remembered her omission all at once. Therefore I am quite vexed and +disappointed, I beg you to believe--_I_, who have pleasure in giving +you any printed verses of mine that you care to have. Never mind! I +may print another volume before long, and lay it at your feet. In +the meantime, you _endure_ my 'Cry of the Children' better than I had +anticipated--just because I never anticipated your being able to read +it to the end, and was over-delicate of placing it in your hands +on that very account. My dearest Mr. Boyd, you are right in your +complaint against the rhythm. The first stanza came into my head in a +hurricane, and I was obliged to make the other stanzas like it--_that_ +is the whole mystery of the iniquity. If you look Mr. Lucas from head +to foot, you will never find such a rhythm on his person. The whole +crime of the versification belongs to _me_. So blame _me_, and by no +means another poet, and I will humbly confess that I deserve to be +blamed in some _measure_. There is a roughness, my own ear being +witness, and I give up the body of my criminal to the rod of your +castigation, kissing the last as if it were Flush. + +A report runs in London that Mr. Boyd says of Elizabeth Barrett: 'She +is a person of the most perverted judgment in England.' Now, if this +be true, I shall not mend my evil position in your opinion, my very +dear friend, by confessing that I differ with you, the more the longer +I live, on the ground of what you call 'jumping lines.' I am speaking +not of particular cases, but of the principle, the general principle, +of these cases, and the tenacity of my judgment does not arise from +the teaching of 'Mr. Lucas,' but from the deeper study of the old +master-poets--English poets--those of the Elizabeth and James ages, +before the corruption of French rhythms stole in with Waller and +Denham, and was acclimated into a national inodorousness by Dryden +and Pope. We differ so much upon this subject that we must proceed +by agreeing to differ, and end, perhaps, by finding it agreeable to +differ; there can be no possible use in an argument. Only you must be +upright in justice, and find Wordsworth innocent of misleading me. So +far from having read him more within these three years, I have read +him _less_, and have taken no new review, I do assure you, of his +position and character as a poet, and these facts are testified unto +by the other fact that my poetry, neither in its best features nor its +worst, is adjusted after the fashion of his school. + +But I am writing too much; you will have no patience with me. 'The +Excursion' is accused of being lengthy, and so you will tell me that I +convict myself of plagiarism, _currente calamo_. + +I have just finished a poem of some eight hundred lines, called +'The Vision of Poets,'[85] philosophical, allegorical--anything but +popular. It is in stanzas, every one an octosyllabic triplet, which +you will think odd, and I have not _sanguinity_ enough to defend. + +May God bless you, my dearest Mr. Boyd! Yes, I heard--I was glad to +hear--of your having resumed that which used to be so great a pleasure +to you--Miss Marcus's society. I remain, + +Affectionately and gratefully yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +My love to dear Annie. + +[Footnote 85: _Poetical Works_, i. 223.] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +October 1843. + +You are probably right in respect to Tennyson, for whom, with all +my admiration of him, I would willingly secure more exaltation and a +broader clasping of truth. Still, it is not possible to have so +much beauty without a certain portion of truth, the position of the +Utilitarians being true in the inverse. But I think as I did of 'uses' +and 'responsibilities,' and do hold that the poet is a preacher and +must look to his doctrine. + +Perhaps Mr. Tennyson will grow more solemn, like the sun, as his day +goes on. In the meantime we have the noble 'Two Voices,' and, among +other grand intimations of a teaching power, certain stanzas to J.K. +(I think the initials are) on the death of his brother,[86] which very +deeply affected me. + +Take away the last stanzas, which should be applied more definitely +to the _body_, or cut away altogether as a lie against eternal verity, +and the poem stands as one of the finest of monodies. The nature of +human grief never surely was more tenderly intimated or touched--it +brought tears to my eyes. Do read it. He is not a Christian poet, up +to this time, but let us listen and hear his next songs. He is one of +God's singers, whether he knows it or does not know it. + +I am thinking, lifting up my pen, what I can write to you which +is likely to be interesting to you. After all I come to chaos and +silence, and even old night--it is growing so dark. I live in London, +to be sure, and except for the glory of it I might live in a desert, +so profound is my solitude and so complete my isolation from things +and persons without. I lie all day, and day after day, on the sofa, +and my windows do not even look into the street. To abuse myself with +a vain deceit of rural life I have had ivy planted in a box, and it +has flourished and spread over one window, and strikes against the +glass with a little stroke from the thicker leaves when the wind blows +at all briskly. _Then_ I think of forests and groves; it is my triumph +when the leaves strike the window pane, and this is not a sound like +a lament. Books and thoughts and dreams (almost too consciously +_dreamed_, however, for me--the illusion of them has almost passed) +and domestic tenderness can and ought to leave nobody lamenting. +Also God's wisdom, deeply steeped in His love, _is_ as far as we can +stretch out our hands. + +[Footnote 86: The lines 'To J.S.,' which begin: + + 'The wind that beats the mountain blows + More softly round the open wold.' + + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +50 Wimpole Street: December 26, 1843. + +Dear Mr. Westwood,--You think me, perhaps, and not without apparent +reason, ungrateful and insensible to your letter, but indeed I am +neither one nor the other, and I am writing now to try and prove it to +you. I was much touched by some tones of kindness in the letter, and +it was welcome altogether, and I did not need the 'owl' which came +after to waken me, because I was wide awake enough from the first +moment; and now I see that you have been telling your beads, while I +seemed to be telling nothing, in that dread silence of mine. May all +true saints of poetry be propitious to the wearer of the 'Rosary.' + +In answer to a question which you put to me long ago on the subject +of books of theology, I will confess to you that, although I have read +rather widely the divinity of the Greek Fathers, Gregory, Chrysostom, +and so forth, and have of course informed myself in the works +generally of our old English divines, Hooker, Jeremy Taylor, and so +forth, I am not by any means a frequent reader of books of theology as +such, and as the men of our times have made them. I have looked into +the 'Tracts' from curiosity and to hear what the world was talking +of, and I was disappointed _even_ in the degree of intellectual power +displayed in them. From motives of a desire of theological instruction +I very seldom read any book except God's own. The minds of persons are +differently constituted; and it is no praise to mine to admit that +I am apt to receive less of what is called edification from human +discourses on divine subjects, than disturbance and hindrance. I read +the Scriptures every day, and in as simple a spirit as I can; thinking +as little as possible of the controversies engendered in that great +sunshine, and as much as possible of the heat and glory belonging to +it. It is a sure fact in my eyes that we do not require so much _more +knowledge_, as a stronger apprehension, by the faith and affections, +of what we already know. + +You will be sorry to hear that Mr. Tennyson is not well, although +his friends talk of nervousness, and do not fear much ultimate +mischief....[87] + +It is such a lovely _May_ day, that I am afraid of breaking the spell +by writing down Christmas wishes. + +Very faithfully yours, +ELIZABETH BARRETT. + +[Footnote 87: About the same date she writes to Home (_Letters to R.H. +Horne_, i. 86): 'I am very glad to hear that nothing really very bad +is the matter with Tennyson. If anything were to happen to Tennyson, +the world should go into mourning.'] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +50 Wimpole Street: December 31, 1843. + +If you do find the paper I was invited to write upon Wordsworth[88], +you will see to which class of your admiring or abhorring friends +I belong. Perhaps you will cry out quickly, 'To the blind admirers, +certes.' And I have a high admiration of Wordsworth. His spirit has +worked a good work, and has freed into the capacity of work other +noble spirits. He took the initiative in a great poetic movement, and +is not only to be praised for what he has done, but for what he +has helped his age to do. For the rest, Byron has more passion and +intensity, Shelley more fancy and music, Coleridge could see further +into the unseen, and not one of those poets has insulted his own +genius by the production of whole poems, such as I could name of +Wordsworth's, the vulgarity of which is childish, and the childishness +vulgar. Still, the wings of his genius are wide enough to cast a +shadow over its feet, and our gratitude should be stronger than our +critical acumen. Yes, I _will_ be a blind admirer of Wordsworth's. I +_will_ shut my eyes and be blind. Better so, than see too well for the +thankfulness which is his due from me.... + +Yes, I mean to print as much as I can find and make room for, 'Brown +Rosary' and all. I am glad you liked 'Napoleon,'[89] but I shall be +more glad if you decide when you see this new book that I have made +some general progress in strength and expression. Sometimes I rise +into hoping that I may have done so, or may do so still more. + +The poet's work is no light work. His wheat will not grow without +labour any more than other kinds of wheat, and the sweat of the +spirit's brow is wrung by a yet harder necessity. And, thinking so, I +am inclined to a little regret that you should have hastened your book +even for the sake of a sentiment. Now you will be angry with me.... + +There are certain difficulties in the way of the critic +unprofessional, as I know by experience. Our most sweet voices +are scarcely admissible among the most sour ones of the regular +brotherhood.... + +Harriet Martineau is quite well,'trudging miles together in the snow,' +when the snow was, and in great spirits. Wordsworth is to be in London +in the spring. Tennyson is dancing the polka and smoking cloud upon +cloud at Cheltenham. Robert Browning is meditating a new poem, and an +excursion on the Continent. Miss Mitford came to spend a day with me +some ten days ago; sprinkled, as to the soul, with meadow dews. Am I +at the end of my account? I think so. + +Did you read 'Blackwood'? and in that case have you had deep delight +in an exquisite paper by the Opium-eater, which my heart trembled +through from end to end? What a poet that man is! how he vivifies +words, or deepens them, and gives them profound significance.... + +I understand that poor Hood is supposed to be dying, really dying, at +last. Sydney Smith's last laugh mixes with his, or nearly so. But +Hood had a deeper heart, in one sense, than Sydney Smith, and is the +material of a greater man. + +And what are you doing? Writing--reading--or musing of either? Are you +a reviewer-man--in opposition to the writer? Once, reviewing was my +besetting sin, but now it is only my frailty. Now that I lie here +at the mercy of every reviewer, I save myself by an instinct of +self-preservation from that 'gnawing tooth' (as Homer and Aeschylus +did rightly call it), and spring forward into definite work and +thought. Else, I should perish. Do you understand that? If you are a +reviewer-man you will, and if not, you must set it down among those +mysteries of mine which people talk of as profane. + +May God bless you, &c. &c. +ELIZABETH BARRETT. + +[Footnote 88: In the _Athenaeum_.] + +[Footnote 89: 'Crowned and Buried' (_Poetical Works_, iii. 9).] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +[Undated.] + +You know as well as I do how the plague of rhymers, and of bad rhymes, +is upon the land, and it was only three weeks ago that, at a 'Literary +Institute' at Brighton, I heard of the Reverend somebody Stoddart +gravely proposing 'Poetry for the Million' to his audience; he +assuring them that 'poets made a mystery of their art,' but that in +fact nothing except an English grammar, and a rhyming dictionary, and +some instruction about counting on the fingers, was necessary in order +to make a poet of any man! + +_This_ is a fact. And to this extent has the art, once called divine, +been desecrated among the educated classes of our country. + +Very sincerely yours, +ELIZABETH BARRETT. + +Besides the poems, to which reference has been made in the above +letters, Miss Barrett was engaged, during the year 1843, in +co-operating with her friend Mr. Home in the production of his great +critical enterprise, 'The New Spirit of the Age.' In this the much +daring author undertook no less a task than that of passing a sober +and serious judgment on his principal living comrades in the world of +letters. Not unnaturally he ended by bringing a hornets' nest about +his ears--alike of those who thought they should have been mentioned +and were not, and of those who were mentioned but in terms which did +not satisfy the good opinion of themselves with which Providence had +been pleased to gift them. The volumes appeared under Home's name +alone, and he took the whole responsibility; but he invited assistance +from others, and in particular used the collaboration of Miss Barrett +to no small extent. She did not indeed contribute any complete essay +to his work; but she expressed her opinion, when invited, on several +writers, in a series of elaborate letters, which were subsequently +worked up by Home into his own criticisms.[90] The secret of her +cooperation was carefully kept, and she does not appear to have +suffered any of the evil consequences of his indiscretions, real or +imagined. Another contribution from her consisted of the suggestion of +mottoes appropriate to each writer noticed at length; and in this work +she had an unknown collaborator in the person of Robert Browning. So +ends the somewhat uneventful year of 1843. + +[Footnote 90: Her contributions to the essays on Tennyson and Carlyle +have recently been printed in Messrs. Nichols and Wise's _Literary +Anecdotes of the Nineteenth Century_, i. 33, ii. 105.] + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +1844-46 + + +The year 1844 marks an important epoch in the life of Mrs. Browning. +It was in this year that, as a result of the publication of her two +volumes of 'Poems,' she won her general and popular recognition as a +poetess whose rank was with the foremost of living writers. It was six +years since she had published a volume of verse; and in the meanwhile +she had been gaining strength and literary experience. She had tried +her wings in the pages of popular periodicals. She had profited by +the criticisms on her earlier work, and by intercourse with men of +letters; and though her defects in literary art were by no means +purged away, yet the flights of her inspiration were stronger and +more assured. The result is that, although the volumes of 1844 do not +contain absolutely her best work--no one with the 'Sonnets from the +Portuguese' in his mind can affirm so much as that--they contain that +which has been most generally popular, and which won her the position +which for the rest of her life she held in popular estimation among +the leaders of English poetry. + +The principal poem in these two volumes is the 'Drama of Exile.' Of +the genesis of this work, Miss Barrett gives the following account in +a letter to Home, dated December 28 1843: + +'A volume full of manuscripts had been ready for more than a year, +when suddenly, a short time ago, when I fancied I had no heavier work +than to make copy and corrections, I fell upon a fragment of a sort +of masque on "The First Day's Exile from Eden"--or rather it fell upon +me, and beset me till I would finish it.'[91] + +[Footnote 91: _Letters to R.H. Home_, ii. 146.] + +At one time it was intended to use its name as the title to the two +volumes; but this design was abandoned, and they appeared under the +simple description of 'Poems, by Elizabeth Barrett Barrett.' The +'Vision of Poets' comes next in length to the 'Drama'; and among the +shorter pieces were several which rank among her best work, 'The Cry +of the Children,' 'Wine of Cyprus,' 'The Dead Pan,' 'Bertha in the +Lane,' 'Crowned and Buried,' 'The Mourning Mother,' and 'The Sleep,' +together with such popular favourites as 'Lady Geraldine's Courtship,' +'The Romaunt of the Page,' and 'The Rhyme of the Duchess May.' Since +the publication of 'The Seraphim' volume, the new era of poetry had +developed itself to a notable extent. Tennyson had published the +best of his earlier verse, 'Locksley Hall,' 'Ulysses,' the 'Morte +d'Arthur,' 'The Lotus Eaters,' 'A Dream of Fair Women,' and many more; +Browning had issued his wonderful series of 'Bells and Pomegranates,' +including 'Pippa Passes,' 'King Victor and King Charles,' 'Dramatic +Lyrics,' 'The Return of the Druses,' and 'The Blot on the 'Scutcheon'; +and it was among company such as this that Miss Barrett, by general +consent, now took her place. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +January 8, 1844. + +Thank you again and again, my dearest Mrs. Martin, for your flowers, +and the verses which gave them another perfume. The 'incense of the +heart' lost not a grain of its perfume in coming so far, and not a +leaf of the flowers was ruffled, and to see such gorgeous colours all +on a sudden at Christmas time was like seeing a vision, and almost +made Flush and me rub our eyes. Thank you, dearest Mrs. Martin; how +kind of you! The grace of the verses and the brightness of the flowers +were too much for me altogether. And when George exclaimed, 'Why, she +has certainly laid bare her greenhouse,' I had not a word to say in +justification of myself for being the cause of it. + +Papa admired the branch of Australian origin so much that he walked +all over the house with it. Beautiful it is indeed; but my eyes turn +back to the camellias. I do believe that I like to look at a camellia +better than at a rose; and then _these_ have a double association.... + +I meant to write a long letter to you to-day, but Mr. Kenyon has +been to see me and cut my time short before post time. You remember, +perhaps, how his brother married a German, and, after an exile of many +years in Germany, returned last summer to England to settle. Well, he +can't bear us any longer! His wife is growing paler and paler with the +pressure of English social habits, or rather unsocial habits; and he +himself is a German at heart; and besides, being a man of a singularly +generous nature, and accustomed to give away in handfuls of silver +and gold one-third of every year's income, he dislikes the social +obligation of _spending_ it here. So they are going back. Poor Mr. +Kenyon! I am full of sympathy with him. This returning to England +was a dream of all last year to him. He gave up his house to the new +comers, and bought a new one; and talked of the brightness secured to +his latter years by the presence of his only remaining near relative; +and I see that, for all his effort towards a bright view of the +matter, he is disappointed--very. Should you suppose that four hundred +pounds in Vienna go as far as a thousand in England? I should never +have fancied it. + +You shall hear from me, my dearest Mrs. Martin, in another few days; +and I send this as it is, just because I am benighted by the post +hour, and do not like to pass your kindness with even one day's +apparent neglect. + +May God bless you and dear Mr. Martin. The kindest wishes for the long +slope of coming year, and for the many, I trust, beyond it, belong to +you from the deepest of our hearts. + +But shall you not be coming--setting out--very soon, before I can +write again? + +Your affectionate +BA. + + +_To John Kenyan_ +[?January 1844.] + +I am so sorry, dear Mr. Kenyon, to hear--which I did, last night, for +the first time--of your being unwell. I had hoped that to-day would +bring a better account, but your note, with its next week prospect, is +disappointing. The 'ignominy' would have been very preferable--to us, +at least, particularly as it need not have lasted beyond to-day, +dear Georgie being quite recovered, and at his law again, and no more +symptoms of small-pox in anybody. We should all be well, if it were +not for me and my cough, which is better, but I am not quite well, nor +have yet been out. + +A letter came to me from dear Miss Mitford a few days since, which +I had hoped to talk to you about. Some of the subject of it is Mr. +Kenyon's '_only fault_,' which ought, of course, to be a large one to +weigh against the multitudinous ones of other people, but which seems +to be: 'He has the habit of walking in without giving notice. He +thinks it saves trouble, whereas in a small family, and at a distance +from a town, the effect is that one takes care to be provided for the +whole time that one expects him, and then, by some exquisite ill luck, +on the only day when one's larder is empty, in he comes!' And so, if +you have not written to interrupt her in this process of indefinite +expectation, the 'only fault' will, in her eyes, grow, as it ought, as +large as fifty others. + +I do hope, dear Mr. Kenyon, soon to hear that you are better--and +well--and that your course of prophecy may not run smooth all through +next week. + +Very truly yours, +E. BARRETT. + + +Saturday. +_To John Kenyon_ +Saturday night [about March 1844]. + +I return Mr. Burges's criticism, which I omitted to talk to you of +this morning, but which interested me much in the reading. Do let him +understand how obliged to him I am for permitting me to look, for a +moment, according to his view of the question. Perhaps my poetical +sense is not convinced all through, and certainly my critical sense +is not worth convincing, but I am delighted to be able to call by +the name of Aeschylus, under the authority of Mr. Burges, those noble +electrical lines (electrical for double reasons) which had struck +me twenty times as Aeschylean, when I read them among the recognised +fragments of Sophocles. You hear Aeschylus's footsteps and voice in +the lines. No other of the gods could tread so heavily, or speak so +like thundering. + +I wrote all this to begin with, hesitating how else to begin. My +very dear and kind friend, you understand--do you not?--through an +expression which, whether written or spoken, must remain imperfect, to +what deep, full feeling of gratitude your kindness has moved me.[92] +The good you have done me, and just at the moment when I should have +failed altogether without it, and in more than one way, and in a +deeper than the obvious degree--all this I know better than you do, +and I thank you for it from the bottom of my heart. I shall never +forget it, as long as I live to remember anything. The book may fail +signally after all--_that_ is another question; but I shall not fail, +to begin with, and _that_ I owe to _you_, for I was falling to pieces +in nerves and spirits when you came to help me. I had only enough +instinct left to be ashamed, a little, afterwards, of having sent you, +in company, too, with Miss Martineau's heroic cheerfulness, that note +of weak because unavailing complaint. It was a long compressed feeling +breaking suddenly into words. Forgive and forget that I ever so +troubled you--no, 'troubled' is not the word for your kindness!--and +remember, as I shall do, the great good you have done me. + +May God bless you, my dear cousin. + +Affectionately yours always, +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 92: Referring to Mr. Kenyon's encouraging comments on the +'Drama of Exile,' which he had seen in manuscript at a time when Miss +Barrett was very despondent about it.] + + +This note is not to be answered. + +I am thinking of writing to Moxon, as there does not seem much to +arrange. The type and size of Tennyson's books seem, upon examination, +to suit my purpose excellently. + + +_To John Kenyan_ +March 21, 1844. + +No, you never sent me back Miss Martineau's letter, my dear cousin; +but you will be sure, or rather Mr. Crabb Robinson will, to find it in +some too safe a place; and then I shall have it. In the meantime here +are the other letters back again. You will think that I was keeping +them for a deposit, a security, till I 'had my ain again,' but I have +only been idle and busy together. They are the most interesting that +can be, and have quite delighted me. By the way, _I_, who saw nothing +to object to in the 'Life in the Sick Room,' object very much to her +argument in behalf of it--an argument certainly founded on a miserable +misapprehension of the special doctrine referred to in her letter. +There is nothing so elevating and ennobling to the nature and mind +of man as the view which represents it raised into communion with God +Himself, by the justification and purification of God Himself. Plato's +dream brushed by the gate of this doctrine when it walked highest, and +won for him the title of 'Divine.' That it is vulgarised sometimes by +narrow-minded teachers in theory, and by hypocrites in action, might +be an argument (if admitted at all) against all truth, poetry, and +music! + +On the other hand, I was glad to see the leaning on the Education +question; in which all my friends the Dissenters did appear to me so +painfully wrong and so unworthily wrong at once. + +And Southey's letters! I did quite delight in _them_! They are more +_personal_ than any I ever saw of his; and have more warm every-day +life in them. + +The particular Paul Pry in question (to come down to _my_ life) never +'intrudes.' It is his peculiarity. And I put the stop exactly where I +was bid; and was going to put Gabriel's speech,[93] only--with the +pen in my hand to do it--I found that the angel was a little too +exclamatory altogether, and that he had cried out, 'O ruined earth!' +and 'O miserable angel!' just before, approaching to the habit of a +mere caller of names. So I altered the passage otherwise; taking care +of your full stop after 'despair.' Thank you, my dear Mr. Kenyon. + +Also I sent enough manuscript for the first sheet, and a note to +Moxon yesterday, last night, thanking him for his courtesy about Leigh +Hunt's poems; and following your counsel in every point. 'Only last +night,' you will say! But I have had _such_ a headache--and some very +painful vexation in the prospect of my maid's leaving me, who has been +with me throughout my illness; so that I am much attached to her, +with the best reasons for being so, while the idea of a stranger is +scarcely tolerable to me under my actual circumstances. + +The 'Palm Leaves'[94] are full of strong thought and good +thought--thought expressed excellently well; but of poetry, in +the true sense, and of imagination in any, I think them bare and +cold--somewhat wintry leaves to come from the East, surely, surely! + +May the change of air be rapid in doing you good--the weather seems to +be softening on purpose for you. May God bless you, dear Mr. Kenyon; +I never can thank you enough. When you return I shall be rustling my +'proofs' about you, to prove my faith in your kindness. + +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 93: In the 'Drama of Exile,' near the beginning (_Poetical +Works_, i. 7).] + +[Footnote 94: By Monckton Milnes, afterwards Lord Houghton.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +March 22, 1844. + +My dearest Mr. Boyd,--I heard that once I wrote three times too long +a letter to you; I am aware that nine times too long a silence is +scarcely the way to make up for it. Forgive me, however, as far as you +can, for every sort of fault. When I once begin to write to you, I do +not know how to stop; and I have had so much to do lately as scarcely +to know how to begin to write to you. _Hence these_ faults--not quite +tears--in spite of my penitence and the quotation. + +At last my book is in the press. My great poem (in the modest +comparative sense), my 'Masque of Exile' (as I call it at last[95]), +consists of some nineteen hundred or two thousand lines, and I call it +'Masque of _Exile_' because it refers to Lucifer's exile, and to that +other mystical exile of the Divine Being which was the means of the +return homewards of my Adam and Eve. After the exultation of boldness +of composition, I fell into one of my deepest fits of despondency, and +at last, at the end of most painful vacillations, determined not to +print it. Never was a manuscript so near the fire as my 'Masque' was. +I had not even the instinct of applying for help to anybody. In the +midst of this Mr. Kenyon came in by accident, and asked about my poem. +I told him that I had given it up, despairing of my republic. In the +kindest way he took it into his hands, and proposed to carry it home +and read it, and tell me his impression. 'You know,' he said, 'I have +a prejudice against these sacred subjects for poetry, but then I have +another prejudice _for you_, and one may neutralise the other.' The +next day I had a letter from him with the returned manuscript--a +letter which I was absolutely certain, before I opened it, would +counsel _against_ the publication. On the contrary! His impression is +clearly in favour of the poem, and, while he makes sundry criticisms +on minor points, he considers it very superior as a whole to anything +I ever did before--more sustained, and fuller in power. So my nerves +are braced, and I grow a man again; and the manuscript, as I told you, +is in the press. Moreover, you will be surprised to hear that I think +of bringing out _two volumes of poems_ instead of one, by advice +of Mr. Moxon, the publisher. Also, the Americans have commanded an +American edition, to come out in numbers, either a little before or +simultaneously with the English one, and provided with a separate +preface for themselves. + +There now! I have told you all this, knowing your kindness, and that +you will care to hear of it. + +It has given me the greatest concern to hear of dear Annie's illness, +and I do hope, both for your sake and for all our sakes, that we may +have better news of her before long. + +But I don't mean to fall into another scrape to-day by writing too +much. May God bless you, my very dear friend! + +I am ever your affectionate +E.B.B. + + +[Footnote 95: There was, however, a still later last, when it became +the 'Drama of Exile.'] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +April I, 1844. + +My very dear Friend,--Your kind letter I was delighted to receive. You +mistake a good deal the capacities in judgment of 'the man.'[96] The +'man' is highly refined in his tastes, and leaning to the classical +(I was going to say to _your_ classical, only suddenly I thought of +Ossian) a good deal more than I do. He has written satires in the +manner of Pope, which admirers of Pope have praised warmly and +deservedly. If I had hesitated about the conclusiveness of his +judgments, it would have been because of his confessed indisposition +towards subjects religious and ways mystical, and his occasional +insufficient indulgence for rhymes and rhythms which he calls +'_Barrettian_.' But these things render his favourable inclination +towards my 'Drama of Exile' still more encouraging (as you will see) +to my hopes for it. + +Still, I do tremble a good deal inwardly when I come to think of +what your own thoughts of my poem, and poems in their two-volume +development, may finally be. I am afraid of you. You will tell me the +truth as it appears to you--upon _that_ I may rely; and I should not +wish you to suppress a single disastrous thought for the sake of the +unpleasantness it may occasion to me. My own faith is that I have made +progress since 'The Seraphim,' only it is too possible (as I confess +to myself and you) that your opinion may be exactly contrary to it. + +You are very kind in what you say about wishing to have some +conversation, as the medium of your information upon architecture, +with Octavius--Occy, as we call him. He is very much obliged to you, +and proposes, if it should not be inconvenient to you, to call upon +you on Friday, with Arabel, at about one o'clock. Friday is mentioned +because it is a holiday, no work being done at Mr. Barry's. Otherwise +he is engaged every day (except, indeed, Sunday) from nine in the +morning to five in the afternoon. May God bless you, dearest Mr. Boyd. +I am ever + +Your affectionate +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 96: John Kenyon: see the last letter.] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +April 16, 1844. + +... Surely, surely, it was not likely I should lean to utilitarianism +in the notice on Carlyle, as I remember the writer of that +article leans somewhere--_I_, who am reproached with +trans-trans-transcendentalisms, and not without reason, or with +insufficient reason. + +Oh, and I should say also that Mr. Home, in his kindness, has enlarged +considerably in his annotations and reflections on me personally.[97] +My being in correspondence with all the Kings of the East, for +instance, is an exaggeration, although literary work in one way will +bring with it, happily, literary association in others.... Still, I am +not a great letter writer, and I don't write 'elegant Latin verses,' +as all the gods of Rome know, and I have not been shut up in the dark +for seven years by any manner of means. By the way, a barrister said +to my barrister brother the other day, 'I suppose your sister is +dead?' 'Dead?' said he, a little struck; 'dead?' 'Why, yes. After Mr. +Home's account of her being sealed up hermetically in the dark for so +many years, one can only calculate upon her being dead by this time.' + +ELIZABETH BARRETT. + +Several of the letters to Mr. Boyd which follow refer to that +celebrated gift of Cyprus wine which led to the composition of one of +Miss Barrett's best known and most quoted poems. + +[Footnote 97: In _The New Spirit of the Age_.] + + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +June 18, 1844. + +Thank you, my very dear friend! I write to you drunk with Cyprus. +Nothing can be worthier of either gods or demi-gods; and if, as you +say, Achilles did not drink of it, I am sorry for him. I suppose +Jupiter had it instead, just then--Hebe pouring it, and Juno's ox-eyes +bellowing their splendour at it, if you will forgive me that broken +metaphor, for the sake of Aeschylus's genius, and my own particular +intoxication. + +Indeed, there _never was_, in modern days, such wine. Flush, to whom +I offered the last drop in my glass, felt it was supernatural, and +ran away. I have an idea that if he had drunk that drop, he would have +talked afterwards--either Greek or English. + +Never was such wine! The very taste of ideal nectar, only stiller, +from keeping. If the bubbles of eternity were on it, _we_ should run +away, perhaps, like Flush. + +Still, the thought comes to me, ought I to take it from you? Is it +right of me? are you not too kind in sending it? and should you be +allowed to be too kind? In any case, you must, not think of sending me +more than you have already sent. It is more than enough, and I am not +less than very much obliged to you. + +I have passed the middle of my second volume, and I only hope that +critics may say of the rest that it smells of Greek wine. Dearest Mr. +Boyd's + +Ever affectionate +E.B. BARRETT. + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +June 28, 1844. + +My dear Mr. Westwood,--I have certainly and considerably increased +the evidence of my own death by the sepulchral silence of the last few +days. But after all I am not dead, not even _at heart_, so as to be +insensible to your kind anxiety, and I can assure you of this, upon +very fair authority, neither is the book dead yet. It has turned the +corner of the _felo de se_, and if it is to die, it will be by the +critics. The mystery of the long delay, it would not be very easy for +me to explain, notwithstanding I hear Mr. Moxon says: 'I suppose Miss +Barrett is not in a hurry about her publication;' and _I_ say: 'I +suppose Moxon is not in a hurry about the publication.' There may be +a little fault on my side, when I have kept a proof a day beyond the +hour, or when 'copy' has put out new buds in my hands as I passed it +to the printer's. Still, in my opinion, it is a good deal more the +fault of Mr. Moxon's not being in a hurry, than in the excessive +virtue of my patience, or vice of my indolence. Miss Mitford says, as +you do, that she never heard of so slow-footed a book. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +50 Wimpole Street: +Wednesday, August I, 1844 [postmark]. + +My very dear Friend,--Have you expected to hear from me? and are you +vexed with me? I am a little ambitious of the first item--yet hopeful +of an escape from the last. If you did but know how I am pressed for +time, and how I have too much to do every day, you would forgive +me for my negligence; even if you had sent me nectar instead of +mountain,[98] and I had neglected laying my gratitude at your +feet. Last Saturday, upon its being discovered that my first volume +consisted of only 208 pages, and my second of 280 pages, Mr. Moxon +uttered a cry of reprehension, and wished to tear me to pieces by his +printers, as the Bacchantes did Orpheus. Perhaps you might have heard +my head moaning all the way to St. John's Wood! He wanted to tear away +several poems from the end of the second volume, and tie them on to +the end of the first! I could not and would not hear of this, because +I had set my mind on having 'Dead Pan' to conclude with. So there was +nothing for it but to finish a ballad poem called 'Lady Geraldine's +Courtship,' which was lying by me, and I did so by writing, i.e. +composing, _one hundred and forty lines last Saturday!_[99] I seemed +to be in a dream all day! Long lines too--with fifteen syllables in +each! I see you shake your head all this way off. Moreover it is a +'romance of the age,' treating of railroads, routes, and all manner +of 'temporalities,' and in so radical a temper that I expect to be +reproved for it by the Conservative reviews round. By the way, did I +tell you of the good news I had from America the third of this month? +The 'Drama of Exile' is in the hands of a New York publisher; and +having been submitted to various chief critics of the country on its +way, was praised loudly and extravagantly. This was, however, by a +_private reading_ only. A bookseller at Philadelphia had announced it +for publication--he intended to take it up when the English edition +reached America; but upon its being represented to him that the New +York publisher had proof sheets direct from the author and would give +copy money, he abandoned his intention to the other. I confess I feel +very much pleased at the kind spirit--the spirit of eager kindness +indeed--with which the Americans receive my poetry. It is not wrong +to be pleased, I hope. In this country there may be mortifications +waiting for me; quite enough to keep my modesty in a state of +cultivation. I do not know. I hope the work will be out this week, and +_then_! Did I explain to you that what 'Lady Geraldine's Courtship' +was wanted for was to increase the size of the first volume, so as to +restore the equilibrium of volumes, without dislocating 'Pan'? Oh, how +anxious I shall be to hear your opinion! If you tell me that I have +lost my intellects, what in the world shall I do _then_--what _shall_ +I do? My Americans--that is, my Americans who were in at the private +reading, and perhaps I myself--are of opinion that I have made +great progress since 'The Seraphim.' It seems to me that I have more +_reach_, whether in thought or language. But then, to _you_ it may +appear quite otherwise, and I shall be very melancholy if it does. +Only you must tell me the _precise truth_; and I trust to you that you +will let me have it in its integrity. + +All the life and strength which are in me, seem to have passed into my +poetry. It is my _pou sto_--not to move the world; but to live on in. + +I must not forget to tell you that there is a poem towards the end of +the second volume, called 'Cyprus Wine,' which I have done myself the +honor and pleasure of associating with your name. I thought that you +would not be displeased by it, as a proof of grateful regard from me. + +Talking of wines, the Mountain has its attraction, but certainly is +not to be compared to the Cyprus. You will see how I have praised the +latter. Well, now I must say 'good-bye,' which you will praise _me_ +for! + +Dearest Mr. Boyd's affectionate +E.B.B. + +P.S.--_Nota bene_--I wish to forewarn you that I have cut away in the +text none of my vowels by apostrophes. When I say 'To efface,' +wanting two-syllable measure, I do not write 'T' efface' as in the old +fashion, but 'To efface' full length. This is the style of the day. +Also you will find me a little lax perhaps in metre--a freedom which +is the result not of carelessness, but of _conviction_, and indeed of +much patient study of the great Fathers of English poetry--not meaning +Mr. Pope. Be as patient with me as you can. You shall have the volumes +as soon as they are ready. + + +[Footnote 98: Evidently a reference to the name of some wine (perhaps +Montepulciano) sent her by Mr. Boyd. See the end of the letter.] + +[Footnote 99: It will be observed that this is not quite the same as +the current legend, which asserts that the whole poem (of 412 lines) +was composed in twelve hours.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +August 6, 1844. + +My very dear Friend,--I cannot be certain, from my recollections, +whether I did or did not write to you before, as you suggest; but +as you never received the letter and I was in a continual press of +different thoughts, the probability is that I did not write. The +Cyprus wine in the second vial I certainly _did_ receive; and was +grateful to you with the whole force of the aroma of it. And now I +will tell you an anecdote. + +In the excess of my filial tenderness, I poured out a glass for papa, +and offered it to him with my right hand. + +'_What is this_?' said he. + +'_Taste it_,' said I as laconically, but with more emphasis. + +He raised it to his lips; and, after a moment, recoiled, with such +a face as sinned against Adam's image, and with a shudder of deep +disgust. + +'Why,' he said, 'what most beastly and nauseous thing is this? Oh,' he +said, 'what detestable drug is this? Oh, oh,' he said, 'I shall never, +never, get this horrible taste out of my mouth.' + +I explained with the proper degree of dignity that 'it was Greek wine, +Cyprus wine, and of very great value.' + +He retorted with acrimony, that 'it might be Greek, twice over; but +that it was exceedingly beastly.' + +I resumed, with persuasive argument, that 'it could scarcely be +beastly, inasmuch as the taste reminded one of oranges and orange +flower together, to say nothing of the honey of Mount Hymettus.' + +He took me up with stringent logic, 'that any wine must positively be +beastly, which, pretending to be wine, tasted sweet as honey, and +that it was beastly on my own showing!' I send you this report as an +evidence of a curious opinion. But drinkers of port wine cannot be +expected to judge of nectar--and I hold your 'Cyprus' to be pure +nectar. + +I shall have pleasure in doing what you ask me to do--that is, +I _will_--if you promise never to call me Miss Barrett again. +You have often quite vexed me by it. There is +Ba--Elizabeth--Elzbeth--Ellie--any modification of my name you may +call me by--but I won't be called Miss Barrett by _you_. Do you +understand? Arabel means to carry your copy of my book to you. And I +beg you not to fancy that I shall be impatient for you to read the +two volumes through. If you _ever_ read them through, it will be +a sufficient compliment, and indeed I do not expect that you _ever +will_. + +May God bless you, dearest Mr. Boyd. + +I remain, + +Your affectionate and grateful +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +The date of this last letter marks, as nearly as need be, the date of +publication of Miss Barrett's volumes. The letters which follow deal +mainly with their reception, first at the hand of friends, and then by +the regular critics. The general verdict of the latter was extremely +complimentary. Mr. Chorley, in the 'Athenaeum,'[100] described the +volumes as 'extraordinary,' adding that 'between her [Miss Barrett's] +poems and the slighter lyrics of most of the sisterhood, there is all +the difference which exists between the putting-on of "singing robes" +for altar service, and the taking up lute or harp to enchant an +indulgent circle of friends and kindred.' In the 'Examiner,'[101] John +Forster declared that 'Miss Barrett is an undoubted poetess of a high +and fine order as regards the first requisites of her art--imagination +and expression.... She is a most remarkable writer, and her volumes +contain not a little which the lovers of poetry will never willingly +let die,' a phrase then not quite so hackneyed as it has since become. +The 'Atlas'[102] asserted that 'the present volumes show extraordinary +powers, and, abating the failings of which all the followers of +Tennyson are guilty, extraordinary genius.' More influential even than +these, 'Blackwood'[103] paid her the compliment of a whole article, +criticising her faults frankly, but declaring that 'her poetical +merits infinitively outweigh her defects. Her genius is profound, +unsullied, and without a flaw.' All agreed in assigning her a high, +or the highest, place among the poetesses of England; but, as +Miss Barrett herself pointed out, this, in itself, was no great +praise.[104] + +[Footnote 100: August 24, 1844.] + +[Footnote 101: October 5, 1844.] + +[Footnote 102: September 31, 1844.] + +[Footnote 103: November 1844.] + +[Footnote 104: See letter of January 3, 1845.] + +With regard to individual poems, the critics did not take kindly to +the 'Drama of Exile,' and 'Blackwood' in particular criticised it at +considerable length, calling it 'the least successful of her works.' +The subject, while half challenging comparison with Milton, lends +itself only too readily to fancifulness and unreality, which were +among the most besetting sins of Miss Barrett's genius. The minor +poems were incomparably more popular, and the favourite of all was +that masterpiece of rhetorical sentimentality, 'Lady Geraldine's +Courtship.' It must have been a little mortifying to the authoress to +find this piece, a large part of which had been dashed off at a single +heat in order to supply the printers' needs, preferred to others on +which she had employed all the labour of her deliberate art; but with +the general tone of all the critics she had every reason to be as +content as her letters show her to have been. Only two criticisms +rankled: the one that she was a follower of Tennyson, the other that +her rhymes were slovenly and careless. And these appeared, in varying +shapes, in nearly all the reviews. + +The former of these allegations is of little weight. Whatever +qualities Miss Barrett may have shared with Tennyson, her substantial +independence is unquestionable. It is a case rather of coincidence +than imitation; or if imitation, it is of a slight and unconscious +kind. The second criticism deserves fuller notice, because it is +constantly repeated to this day. The following letters show how +strongly Miss Barrett protested against it. As she told Horne,[105] +with reference to this very subject: 'If I fail ultimately before the +public--that is, before the people--for an ephemeral popularity does +not appear to me to be worth trying for--it will not be because I have +shrunk from the amount of labour, where labour could do anything. I +have _worked_ at poetry; it has not been with me reverie, but art.' +That her rhymes were inexact, especially in such poems as 'The Dead +Pan,' she did not deny; but her defence was that the inexactness was +due to a deliberate attempt to widen the artistic capabilities of the +English language. Partly, perhaps, as a result of her acquaintance +with Italian literature, she had a marked fondness for disyllabic +rhymes; and since pure rhymes of this kind are not plentiful in +English, she tried the experiment of using assonances instead. Hence +such rhymes as _silence_ and _islands_, _vision_ and _procession_, +_panther_ and _saunter_, examples which could be indefinitely +multiplied if need were. Now it may be that a writer with a very +sensitive ear would not have attempted such an experiment, and it is a +fact that public taste has not approved it; but the experiment itself +is as legitimate as, say, the metrical experiments in hexameters and +hendecasyllabics of Longfellow or Tennyson, and whether approved +or not it should be criticised as an experiment, not as mere +carelessness. That Mrs. Browning's ear was quite-capable of discerning +true rhymes is shown by the fact that she tacitly abandoned her +experiment in assonances. Not only in the pure and high art of the +'Sonnets from the Portuguese,' but even in 'Casa Guidi Windows,' the +rhetorical and sometimes colloquial tone of which might have been +thought to lend itself to such devices, imperfect rhymes occur but +rarely not exceeding the limits allowed to himself by every poet who +has rhymed _given_ and _heaven_; and the roll of those who have _not_ +done so must be small indeed. + +[Footnote 105: _Letters to R.H. Horne_, ii. 119.] + +The point has seemed worth dwelling on, because it touches a +commonplace of criticism as regards Mrs. Browning; but we may now make +way for her own comments on her critics and friends. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Tuesday, August 13, 1844 [postmark]. + +My very dear Friend,--I must thank you for the great kindness with +which you have responded to a natural expression of feeling on +my part, and for all the pleasure of finding you pleased with the +inscription of 'Cyprus Wine.' Your note has given me much true +pleasure. Yes; if my verses survive me, I should wish them to relate +the fact of my being your debtor for many happy hours. + +And now I must explain to you that most of the 'incorrectnesses' you +speak of may be 'incorrectnesses,' but are not _negligences_. I have +a theory about double rhymes for which--I shall be attacked by the +critics, but which I could justify perhaps on high authority, or at +least analogy. In fact, these volumes of mine have more double rhymes +than any two books of English poems that ever to my knowledge were +printed; I mean of English poems _not comic_. Now, of double rhymes +in use, which are perfect rhymes, you are aware how few there are, and +yet you are also aware of what an admirable effect in making a rhythm +various and vigorous, double rhyming is in English poetry. Therefore +I have used a certain licence; and after much thoughtful study of the +Elizabethan writers, have ventured it with the public. And do _you_ +tell me, _you_ who object to the use of a different _vowel_ in a +double rhyme, _why_ you rhyme (as everybody does, without blame from +anybody) 'given' to 'heaven,' when you object to my rhyming 'remember' +and 'chamber'? The analogy surely is all on my side, and I _believe_ +that the spirit of the English language is also. + +I write all this because you will find many other sins of the sort, +besides those in the 'Cyprus Wine;' and because I wish you to consider +the subject as _a point for consideration_ seriously, and not to blame +me as a writer of careless verses. If I deal too much in licences, it +is not because I am idle, but because I am speculative for freedom's +sake. It is possible, you know, to be wrong conscientiously; and I +stand up for my conscience only. + +I thank you earnestly for your candour hitherto, and I beseech you to +be candid to the end. + + It is tawny as Rhea's lion. + +I know (although you don't say so) you object to that line. Yet +consider its structure. Does not the final 'y' of 'tawny' suppose an +apostrophe and apocope? Do you not run 'tawny as' into two syllables +naturally? I want you to see my principle. + +With regard to blank verse, the great Fletcher admits sometimes +seventeen syllables into his lines. + +I hope Miss Heard received her copy, and that you will not think me +arrogant in writing freely to you. + +Believe me, I write only freely and not arrogantly; and I am impressed +with the conviction that my work abounds with far more faults than you +in your kindness will discover, notwithstanding your acumen. + +Always your affectionate and grateful +ELIBET. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Wednesday, August 14, 1844 [postmark]. + +My dearest Mr. Boyd,--I must thank you for the great great pleasure +with which I have this moment read your note, the more welcome, +as (without hypocrisy) I had worked myself up into a nervous +apprehension, from your former one, that I should seem so 'rudis atque +incomposita' to you, in consequence of certain licences, as to end by +being intolerable. I know what an ear you have, and how you can hear +the dust on the wheel as it goes on. Well, I wrote to you yesterday, +to beg you to be patient and considerate. + +But you are always given to surprise me with abundant kindness--with +supererogatory kindness. I believe in _that_, certainly. + +I am very very glad that you think me stronger and more perspicuous. +For the perspicuity, I have struggled hard.... + +Your affectionate and grateful +ELZBETH. + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +50 Wimpole Street: August 22, 1844. + +... Thank you for your welcome letter, so kind in its candour, _I_ +angry that you should prefer 'The Seraphim'! Angry? No _indeed, +indeed_, I am grateful for 'The Seraphim,' and not exacting for the +'Drama,' and all the more because of a secret obstinate persuasion +that the 'Drama' will have a majority of friends in the end, and +perhaps deserve to have them. Nay, why should I throw perhapses over +my own impressions, and be insincere to you who have honoured me by +being sincere? Why should I dissemble my own belief that the 'Drama' +is worth two or three 'Seraphims'--_my own_ belief, you know, which is +worth nothing, writers knowing themselves so superficially, and having +such a natural leaning to their last work. Still, I may say honestly +to you, that I have a far more modest value for 'The Seraphim' than +your kindness suggests, and that I have seemed to myself to have a +clear insight into the fact that that poem was only borne up by the +minor poems published with it, from immediate destruction. There is a +want of unity in it which vexes me to think of, and the other faults +magnify themselves day by day, more and more, in my eyes. Therefore +it is not that I care _more_ for the 'Drama,' but I care less for 'The +Seraphim.' Both poems fall short of my aspiration and desire, but the +'Drama' seems to me fuller, freer and stronger, and worth the other +three times over. If it has anything new, I think it must be something +new into which I have lived, for certainly I wrote it sincerely and +from an inner impulse. In fact, I never wrote any poem with so much +sense of pleasure in the composition, and so rapidly, with continuous +flow--from fifty to a hundred lines a day, and quite in a glow of +pleasure and impulse all through. Still, you have not been used to see +me in blank verse, and there may be something in that. That the poem +is full of faults and imperfections I do not in the least doubt. I +have vibrated between exultations and despondencies in the correcting +and printing of it, though the composition went smoothly to an end, +and I am prepared to receive the bastinado to the critical degree, I +do assure you. The few opinions I have yet had are all to the effect +that my advance on the former publication is very great and obvious, +but then I am aware that people who thought exactly the contrary would +be naturally backward in giving me their opinion.... Indeed, I thank +you most earnestly. Truth and kindness, how rarely do they come +together! I am very grateful to you. It is curious that 'Duchess May' +is not a favorite of mine, and that I have sighed one or two secret +wishes towards its extirpation, but other writers besides yourself +have singled it out for praise in private letters to me. There has +been no printed review yet, I believe; and when I think of them, I +try to think of something else, for with no private friends among +the critical body (not that I should desire to owe security in such a +matter to private friendship) it is awful enough, this looking forward +to be reviewed. Never mind, the ultimate prosperity of the book lies +far above the critics, and can neither be mended nor made nor unmade +by _them_. + + +_To John Kenyan_ +Wednesday morning [August 1844]. + +I return Mr. Chorley's[106] note, my dear cousin, with thankful +thoughts of him--as of you. I wish I could persuade you of the +rightness of my view about 'Essays on Mind' and such things, and how +the difference between them and my present poems is not merely the +difference between two schools, as you seemed to intimate yesterday, +nor even the difference between immaturity and maturity; but that it +is the difference between the dead and the living, between a copy and +an individuality, between what is myself and what is not myself. To +you who have a personal interest and--may I say? affection for me, +the girl's exercise assumes a factitious value, but to the public +the matter is otherwise and ought to be otherwise. And for the +'psychological' side of the question, _do_ observe that I have not +reputation enough to suggest a curiosity about _my legends_. Instead +of your 'legendary lore,' it would be just a legendary bore. Now you +understand what I mean. I do not underrate Pope nor his school, but I +_do_ disesteem everything which, bearing the shape of a book, is not +the true expression of a mind, and I know and feel (and so do _you_) +that a girl's exercise written when all the experience lay in books, +and the mind was suited rather for intelligence than production, +lying like an infant's face with an undeveloped expression, must +be valueless in itself, and if offered to the public directly or +indirectly as a work of mine, highly injurious to me. Why, of the +'Prometheus' volume, even, you know what I think and desire. 'The +Seraphim,' with all its feebleness and shortcomings and obscurities, +yet is the first utterance of my own individuality, and therefore the +only volume except the last which is not a disadvantage to me to have +thought of, and happily for me, the early books, never having been +advertised, nor reviewed, except by accident, once or twice, are as +safe from the public as manuscript. + +Oh, I shudder to think of the lines which might have been 'nicked in,' +and all through Mr. Chorley's good nature. As if I had not sins enough +to ruin me in the new poems, without reviving juvenile ones, sinned +when I knew no better. Perhaps you would like to have the series of +epic poems which I wrote from nine years old to eleven. They might +illustrate some doctrine of innate ideas, and enrich (to that end) the +myths of metaphysicians. + +And also agree with me in reverencing that wonderful genius _Keats_, +who, rising as a grand exception from among the vulgar herd of +juvenile versifiers, was an individual _man_ from the beginning, and +spoke with his own voice, though surrounded by the yet unfamiliar +murmur of antique echoes.[107] Leigh Hunt calls him 'the young poet' +very rightly. Most affectionately and gratefully yours, + +E.B.B. + +Do thank Mr. Chorley for me, will you? + +[Footnote 106: Henry Fothergill Chorley (1808-1872) was one of the +principal members of the staff of the _Athenaeum_, especially in +literary and musical matters. Dr. Garnett (in the _Dictionary of +National Biography_) says of him, shortly after his first joining the +staff in 1833, that 'his articles largely contributed to maintain the +reputation the _Athenaeum_ had already acquired for impartiality at a +time when puffery was more rampant than ever before or since, and +when the only other London literary journal of any pretension was +notoriously venal.' He also wrote several novels and dramas, which met +with but little popular success.] + +[Footnote 107: Compare Aurora Leigh's asseveration: + + 'By Keats' soul, the man who never stepped + In gradual progress like another man, + But, turning grandly on his central self, + Ensphered himself in twenty perfect years + And died, _not_ young.' + +('Aurora Leigh,' book i.; _Poetical Works_, vi. 38.)] + + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Thursday, August 1844. + +Thank you, my dearest Mrs. Martin, for your most kind letter, a reply +to which should certainly, as you desired, have met you at Colwall; +only, right or wrong, I have been flurried, agitated, put out of the +way altogether, by Stormie's and Henry's plan of going to Egypt. Ah, +now you are surprised. Now you think me excusable for being silent +two days beyond my time--yes, and _they have gone_, it is no vague +speculation. You know, or perhaps you don't know, that, a little time +back, papa bought a ship, put a captain and crew of his own in it, and +began to employ it in his favourite 'Via Lactea' of speculations. It +has been once to Odessa with wool, I think; and now it has gone to +Alexandria with coals. Stormie was wild to go to both places; and with +regard to the last, papa has yielded. And Henry goes too. This was all +arranged weeks ago, but nothing was said of it until last Monday +to me; and when I heard it, I was a good deal moved of course, and +although resigned now to their having their way in it, and their +_pleasure_, which is better than their way, still I feel I have +entered a new anxiety, and shall not be quite at ease again till they +return.... + +And now to thank you, my ever-dearest Mrs. Martin, for your kind and +welcome letter from the Lakes. I knew quite at the first page, and +long before you said a word specifically, that dear Mr. Martin was +better, and think that such a scene, even from under an umbrella, must +have done good to the soul and body of both of you. I wish I could +have looked through your eyes for once. But I suppose that neither +through yours, nor through my own, am I ever likely to behold that +sight. In the meantime it is with considerable satisfaction that I +hear of your _failure of Wordsworth_, which was my salvation in a very +awful sense. Why, if you had done such a thing, you would have put me +to the shame of too much honor. The speculation consoles me entirely +for your loss in respect to Rydal Hall and its poet. By the way, I +heard the other day that Rogers, who was intending to visit him, said, +'It is a bad time of year for it. The god is on his pedestal; and +can only give gestures to his worshippers, and no conversation to his +friends.' ... + +Although you did not find a letter from me on your return to Colwall, +I do hope that you found _me_--viz. my book, which Mr. Burden took +charge of, and promised to deliver or see delivered. When you have +read it, _do_ let me hear your own and Mr. Martin's true impression; +and whether you think it worse or better than 'The Seraphim.' The only +review which has yet appeared or had time to appear has been a very +kind and cordial one in the 'Athenaeum.' ... + +Your ever affectionate +BA. + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +August 31, 1844. + +My dear Mr. Westwood,--I send you the manuscript you ask for, and also +my certificate that, although I certainly was once a little girl, +yet I never in my life had fair hair, or received lessons when you +mention. I think a cousin of mine, now dead, may have done it. The +'Barrett Barrett' seems to specify my family. I have a little cousin +with bright fair hair at this moment who is an Elizabeth Barrett (the +subject of my 'Portrait'[108]), but then she is a 'Georgiana' besides, +and your friend must refer to times past. My hair is very dark indeed, +and always was, as long as I remember, and also I have a friend who +makes serious affidavit that I have never changed (except by being +rather taller) since I was a year old. Altogether, you cannot make a +case of identity out, and I am forced to give up the glory of being so +long remembered for my cleverness. + +You do wrong in supposing me inclined to underrate Mr. Melville's +power. He is inclined to High-Churchism, and to such doctrines as +apostolical succession, and I, who, am a Dissenter, and a believer in +a universal Christianity, recoil from the exclusive doctrine. + +But then, that is not depreciatory of his power and eloquence--surely +not. + +E.B. + +[Footnote 108: _Poetical Works_, iii. 172.] + + +_To Mr. Chorley_ +50 Wimpole Street: Monday. +[About the end of August 1844.] + +Dear Mr. Chorley,--Kindnesses are more frequent things with me than +gladnesses, but I thank you earnestly for both in the letter I have +this moment received.[109] You have given me a quick sudden pleasure +which goes deeper (I am very sure) than self-love, for it must be +something better than vanity that brings the tears so near the eyes. I +thank you, dear Mr. Chorley. + +After all, we are not quite strangers. I have had some early +encouragement and direction from you, and much earlier (and later) +literary pleasures from such of your writings as did not refer to me. +I have studied 'Music and Manners'[110] under you, and found an excuse +for my love of romance-reading from your grateful fancy. Then, as dear +Miss Mitford's friend, you could not help being (however against your +will!) a little my acquaintance; and this she daringly promised to +make you in reality some day, till I took the fervour for prophecy. + +Altogether I am justified, while I thank you as a stranger, to say one +more word as a friend, and _that_ shall be the best word--'_May God +bless you_!' The trials with which He tries us all are different, but +our faces may be turned towards the end in cheerfulness, for '_to_ the +end He has loved us.' I remain, + +Very faithfully, your obliged +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +You may trust me with the secret of your kindness to me. It shall not +go farther. + +[Footnote 109: A summary of its contents is given in the next letter +but one.] + +[Footnote 110: _Music and Manners in France and Germany: a Series of +Travelling Sketches of Art and Society_, published by Mr. Chorley in +1841.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Monday, September 1, 1844. + +My dearest Mr. Boyd,--I thank you for the Cyprus, and also for a still +sweeter amreeta--your praise. Certainly to be praised as you praise +me might well be supposed likely to turn a sager head than mine, but +I feel that (with all my sensitive and grateful appreciation of such +words) I am removed rather below than above the ordinary temptations +of vanity. Poetry is to me rather a passion than an ambition, and +the gadfly which drives me along that road pricks deeper than an +expectation of fame could do. + +Moreover, there will be plenty of counter-irritation to prevent me +from growing feverish under your praises. And as a beginning, I hear +that the 'John Bull' newspaper has cut me up with sanguinary gashes, +for the edification of its Sabbath readers. I have not seen it yet, +but I hear so. The 'Drama' is the particular victim. Do not send for +the paper. I will let you have it, if you should wish for it. + +One thing is left to me to say. Arabel told you of a letter I had +received from a professional critic, and I am sorry that she should +have told you so without binding you to secrecy on the point at the +same time. In fact, the writer of the letter begged me _not_ to speak +of it, and I took an engagement to him _not_ to speak of it. Now it +would be very unpleasant to me, and dishonorable to me, if, after +entering into this engagement, the circumstance of the letter should +come to be talked about. Of course you will understand that I do not +object to your having been informed of the thing, only Arabel should +have remembered to ask you not to mention again the name of the critic +who wrote to me. + +May God bless you, my very dear friend. I drink thoughts of you in +Cyprus every day. + +Your ever affectionate +ELIBET. + +There is no review in the 'Examiner' yet, nor any continuation in the +'Athenaeum.'[111] + +[Footnote 111: The _Athenaeum_ had reserved the two longer poems, the +'Drama of Exile' and the 'Vision of Poets,' for possible notice in a +second article, which, however, never appeared.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +September 10, 1844. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I will not lose a post in assuring you that +I was not silent because of any disappointment from your previous +letter. I could only feel the _kindness_ of that letter, and this was +certainly the chief and uppermost feeling at the time of reading it, +and since. Your preference of 'The Seraphim' one other person besides +yourself has acknowledged to me in the same manner, and although I +myself--perhaps from the natural leaning to last works, and perhaps +from a wise recognition of the complete failure of the poem called +'The Seraphim '--do disagree with you, yet I can easily forgive you +for such a thought, and believe that you see sufficient grounds for +entertaining it. More and more I congratulate myself (at any rate) +for the decision I came to at the last moment, and in the face of +some persuasions, to call the book 'Poems,' instead of trusting its +responsibility to the 'Drama,' by such a title as 'A Drama of Exile, +and Poems.' It is plain, as I anticipated, that for one person who is +ever so little pleased with the 'Drama,' fifty at least will like the +smaller poems. And perhaps they are right. The longer sustaining of a +subject requires, of course, more power, and I may have failed in it +altogether. + +Yes, I think I may say that I am satisfied so far with the aspect of +things in relation to the book. You see there has scarcely been time +yet to give any except a sanguine or despondent judgment--I mean, +there is scarcely room yet for forming a very rational inference of +what will ultimately be, without the presentiments of hope or fear. +The book came out too late in August for any chance of a mention in +the September magazines, and at the dead time of year, when the +very critics were thinking more of holiday innocence than of their +carnivorous instincts. This will not hurt it ultimately, although it +might have hurt a _novel_. The regular critics will come back to it; +and in the meantime the newspaper critics are noticing it all round, +with more or less admissions to its advantage. The 'Atlas' is the best +of the newspapers for literary notices; and it spoke graciously on +the whole; though I do protest against being violently attached to +a 'school.' I have faults enough, I know; but it is just to say that +they are at least my own. Well, then! It is true that the 'Westminster +Review' says briefly what is great praise, and promises to take the +earliest opportunity of reviewing me 'at large.' So that with regard +to the critics, there seems to be a good prospect. Then I have had +some very pleasant private letters--one from Carlyle; an oath from +Miss Martineau to give her whole mind to the work and tell me her free +and full opinion, which I have not received yet; an assurance from an +acquaintance of Mrs. Jameson that she was much pleased. But the letter +which pleased me most was addressed to me by a professional critic, +personally unknown to me, who wrote to say that he had traced me up, +step by step, ever since I began to print, and that my last volumes +were so much better than any preceding them, and were such _living +books_, that they restored to him the impulses of his youth and +constrained him to thank me for the pleasant emotions they had +excited. I cannot say the name of the writer of this letter, because +he asked me not to do so, but of course it was very pleasant to read. +Now you will not call me vain for speaking of this. I would not +speak of it; only I want (you see) to prove to you how faithfully +and gratefully I have a trust in your kindness and sympathy. It is +certainly the best kindness to speak the truth to me. I have written +those poems as well as I could, and I hope to write others better. I +have not reached my own ideal; and I cannot expect to have satisfied +other people's expectation. But it is (as I sometimes say) the least +ignoble part of me, that I love poetry better than I love my own +successes in it. + +I am glad that you like 'The Lost Bower.' The scene of that poem is +the wood above the garden at Hope End. + +It is very true, my dearest Mrs. Martin, all that you say about the +voyage to Alexandria. And I do not feel the anxiety I _thought I +should_. In fact, _I am surprised to feel so little anxiety_. Still, +when they are at home again, I shall be happier than I am now, _that_ +I feel strongly besides. + +What I missed most in your first letter was what I do not miss in the +second, the good news of dear Mr. Martin. Both he and you are very +vainglorious, I suppose, about O'Connell; but although I was delighted +on every account at his late victory,[112] or rather at the late +victory of justice and constitutional law, he never was a hero of mine +and is not likely to become one. If he had been (by the way) a hero of +mine, I should have been quite ashamed of him for being so unequal to +his grand position as was demonstrated by the speech from the balcony. +Such poetry in the position, and such prose in the speech! He has not +the stuff in him of which heroes are made. There is a thread of cotton +everywhere crossing the silk.... + +With our united love to both of you, +Ever, dearest Mrs. Martin, most affectionately yours, +BA. + + + +[Footnote 112: The reversal by the House of Lords of his conviction in +Ireland for conspiracy, which the English Court of Queen's Bench had +confirmed.] + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Wednesday [about September 1844]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin, ... Did I tell you that Miss Martineau had +promised and vowed to me to tell me the whole truth with respect to +the poems? Her letter did not come until a few days ago, and for a +full month after the publication; and I was so fearful of the probable +sentence that my hands shook as they broke the seal. But such a +pleasant letter! I have been overjoyed with it. She says that her +'predominant impression is of the _originality_'--very pleasant to +hear. I must not forget, however, to say that she complains of 'want +of variety' in the general effect of the drama, and that she 'likes +Lucifer less than anything in the two volumes.' You see how you have +high backers. Still she talks of 'immense advances,' which consoles me +again. In fact, there is scarcely a word to _require_ consolation +in her letter, and what did not please me least--nay, to do myself +justice, what put all the rest out of my head for some minutes with +joy--is the account she gives of herself. For she is better and likely +still to be better; she has recovered appetite and sleep, and lost the +most threatening symptoms of disease; she has been out for the first +time for four years and a half, lying on the grass flat, she says, +with my books open beside her day after day. (That _does_ sound vain +of me, but I cannot resist the temptation of writing it!) And +the means--the means! Such means you would never divine! It is +_mesmerism_. She is thrown into the magnetic trance twice a day; and +the progress is manifest; and the hope for the future clear. Now, +what do you both think? Consider what a case it is! No case of a +weak-minded woman and a nervous affection; but of the most manlike +woman in the three kingdoms--in the best sense of man--a woman gifted +with admirable fortitude, as well as exercised in high logic, a woman +of sensibility and of imagination certainly, but apt to carry her +reason unbent wherever she sets her foot; given to utilitarian +philosophy and the habit of logical analysis; and suffering under a +disease which has induced change of structure and yielded to no tried +remedy! Is it not wonderful, and past expectation? She suggests that +I should try the means--but I understand that in cases like mine the +remedy has done harm instead of good, by over-exciting the system. But +her experience will settle the question of the reality of magnetism +with a whole generation of infidels. For my own part, I have long been +a believer, _in spite of papa_. Then I have had very kind letters from +Mrs. Jameson, the 'Ennuyée'[113] and from Mr. Serjeant Talfourd and +some less famous persons. And a poet with a Welsh name wrote to me +yesterday to say that he was writing a poem 'similar to my "Drama of +Exile,"' and begged me to subscribe to it. Now I tell you all this to +make you smile, and because some of it will interest you more gravely. +It will prove to dear unjust Mr. Martin that I do not distrust your +sympathy. How could he think so of me? I am half vexed that he should +think so. Indeed--indeed I am not so morbidly vain. Why, if you had +told me that the books were without any sort of value in your eyes, +do you imagine that I should not have valued you, reverenced you +ever after for your truth, so sacred a thing in friendship? I really +believe it would have been my predominant feeling. But you proved your +truth without trying me so hardly; I had _both_ truth and praise from +you, and surely quite enough, and _more_ than enough, as many would +think, of the latter. + +My dearest papa left us this morning to go for a few days into +Cornwall for the purpose of examining a quarry in which he has bought +or is about to buy shares, and he means to strike on for the Land's +End and to see Falmouth before he returns. It depresses me to think +of his being away; his presence or the sense of his nearness having +so much cheering and soothing influence with me; but it will be an +excellent change for him, even if he does not, as he expects, dig an +immense fortune out of the quarries.... + +Your affectionate and ever obliged +BA. + +[Footnote 113: Mrs. Jameson's earliest book, and one which achieved +considerable popularity, was her _Diary of an Ennuyée_.] + + +_To Cornelius Mathews_ +London, 50 Wimpole Street: October 1, 1844. + +My dear Mr. Mathews,--I have just received your note, which, on the +principle of single sighs or breaths being wafted from Indies to the +poles, arrived quite safely, and I was very glad to have it. I shall +fall into monotony if I go on to talk of my continued warm sense of +your wonderful kindness to me, a stranger according to the manner of +men; and, indeed, I have just this moment been writing a note to +a friend two streets away, and calling it 'wonderful kindness.' +I cannot, however, of course, allow you to run the tether of your +impulse and furnish me with the reviews of my books and other things +you speak of at your own expense, and I should prefer, if you would +have the goodness to give the necessary direction to Messrs. Putnam +& Co., that they should send what would interest me to see, together +with a note of the pecuniary debt to themselves. I shall like to see +the reviews, of course; and that you should have taken the first word +of American judgment into your own mouth is a pleasant thought to +me, and leaves me grateful. In England I have no reason so far to +be otherwise than well pleased. There has not, indeed, been much yet +besides newspaper criticisms--except 'Ainsworth's Magazine,' which +is benignant!--there has not been time. The monthly reviews give +themselves 'pause' in such matters to set the plumes of their dignity, +and I am rather glad than otherwise not to have the first fruits of +their haste. The 'Atlas,' the best newspaper for literary reviews, +excepting always the 'Examiner,' who does not speak yet, is generous +to me, and I have reason to be satisfied with others. And our most +influential quarterly (after the 'Edinburgh' and right 'Quarterly'), +the 'Westminster Review,' promises an early paper with passing words +of high praise. What vexed me a little in one or two of the journals +was an attempt made to fix me in a school, and the calling me +a follower of Tennyson for my habit of using compound words, +noun-substantives, which I used to do before I knew a page of +Tennyson, and adopted from a study of our old English writers, and +Greeks and even Germans. The custom is so far from being peculiar to +Tennyson, that Shelley and Keats and Leigh Hunt are all redolent of +it, and no one can read our old poets without perceiving the leaning +of our Saxon to that species of coalition. Then I have had letters of +great kindness from 'Spirits of the Age,' whose praises are so many +crowns, and altogether am far from being out of spirits about the +prospect of my work. I am glad, however, that I gave the name of +'Poems' to the work instead of admitting the 'Drama of Exile' into the +title-page and increasing its responsibility; for one person who likes +the 'Drama,' ten like the other poems. Both Carlyle and Miss Martineau +select as favorite 'Lady Geraldine's Courtship,' which amuses and +surprises me somewhat. In that poem I had endeavoured to throw +conventionalities (turned asbestos for the nonce) into the fire of +poetry, to make them glow and glitter as if they were not dull things. +Well, I shall soon hear what _you_ like best--and worst. I wonder if +you have been very carnivorous with me! I tremble a little to think of +your hereditary claim to an instrument called the tomahawk. Still, I +am sure I shall have to think _most_, ever as now, of your kindness; +and _truth_ must be sacred to all of us, whether we have to suffer +or be glad by it. As for Mr. Horne, I cannot answer for what he has +received or not received. I had one note from him on silver paper +(fear of postage having reduced him to a transparency) from Germany, +and that is all, and I did not think him in good spirits in what he +said of himself. I will tell him what you have the goodness to say, +and something, too, on my own part. He has had a hard time of it with +his 'Spirit of the Age;' the attacks on the book here being bitter in +the extreme. Your 'Democratic' does not comfort him for the rest, by +the way, and, indeed, he is almost past comfort on the subject. I had +a letter the other day from Dr. Shelton Mackenzie, whom I do not know +personally, but who is about to publish a 'Living Author Dictionary,' +and who, by some association, talked of the effeminacy of 'the +American poets,' so I begged him to read your poems on 'Man' and +prepare an exception to his position. I wish to write more and must +not. + +Most faithfully yours, +E.B.B. + +Am I the first with the great and good news for America and England +that Harriet Martineau is better and likely to be better? She told me +so herself, and attributes the change to the agency of _mesmerism_. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +October 4, 1844. + +My dearest Mr. Boyd,--... As to 'The Lost Bower,' I am penitent about +having caused you so much disturbance. I sometimes fancy that a little +varying of the accents, though at the obvious expense of injuring +the smoothness of every line considered separately, gives variety +of cadence and fuller harmony to the general effect. But I do not +question that I deserve a great deal of blame on this point as on +others. Many lines in 'Isobel's Child' are very slovenly and weak from +a multitude of causes. I hope you will like 'The Lost Bower' better +when you try it again than you did at first, though I do not, of +course, expect that you will not see much to cry out against. The +subject of the poem was an actual fact of my childhood. + +Oh, and I think I told you, when giving you the history of 'Lady +Geraldine's Courtship,' that I wrote the _thirteen_ last pages of it +in one day. I ought to have said _nineteen_ pages instead. But don't +tell anybody; only keep the circumstance in your mind when you need it +and see the faults. Nobody knows of it except you and Mr. Kenyon and +my own family for the reason I told you. I sent off that poem to the +press piece-meal, as I never in my life did before with any poem. +And since I wrote to you I have heard of Mr. Eagles, one of the first +writers in 'Blackwood' and a man of very refined taste, adding another +name to the many of those who have preferred it to anything in the +two volumes. He says that he has read it at least six times aloud to +various persons, and calls it a 'beautiful _sui generis_ drama.' On +which Mr. Kenyon observes that I am 'ruined for life, and shall be +sure never to take pains with any poem again.' + +The American edition (did Arabel tell you?) was to be out in New +York a week ago, and was to consist of fifteen hundred copies in two +volumes, as in England. + +She sends you the verses and asks you to make allowances for the delay +in doing so. I cannot help believing that if you were better read in +Wordsworth you would appreciate him better. Ever since I knew what +poetry is, I have believed in him as a great poet, and I do not +understand how reasonably there can be a doubt of it. Will you +remember that nearly all the first minds of the age have admitted +his power (without going to intrinsic evidence), and then say that +he _can_ be a mere Grub Street writer? It is not that he is only or +chiefly admired by the _profanum vulgus_, that he is a mere popular +and fashionable poet, but that men of genius in this and other +countries unite in confessing his genius. And is not this a +significant circumstance--significant, at least?... + +Believe me, yourself, your affectionate and grateful +ELIBET B.B. + +How kind you are, far too kind, about the Cyprus wine; I thank you +very much. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +October 5, 1844. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--... Well, papa came back from Cornwall just +as I came back to my own room, and he was as pleased with his quarry +as I was to have the sight again of his face. During his absence, +Henrietta had a little polka (which did not bring the house down on +its knees), and I had a transparent blind put up in my open window. +There is a castle in the blind, and a castle gate-way, and two walks, +and several peasants, and groves of trees which rise in excellent +harmony with the fall of my green damask curtains--new, since you +saw me last. Papa insults me with the analogy of a back window in a +confectioner's shop, but is obviously moved when the sunshine lights +up the castle, notwithstanding. And Mr. Kenyon and everybody in +the house grow ecstatic rather than otherwise, as they stand in +contemplation before it, and tell me (what is obvious without their +evidence) that the effect is beautiful, and that the whole room +catches a light from it. Well, and then Mr. Kenyon has given me a new +table, with a rail round it to consecrate it from Flush's paws, and +large enough to hold all my varieties of vanities. + +I had another letter from Miss Martineau the other day, and she says +she has a 'hat of her own, a parasol of her own,' and that she can +'walk a mile with ease.' _What do miracles mean_? Miracle or not, +however, one thing is certain--it is very joyful; and her own +sensations on being removed suddenly from the verge of the prospect +of a most painful death--a most painful and lingering death--must be +strange and overwhelming. + +I hope I may hear soon from you that you had much pleasure at Clifton, +and some benefit in the air and change, and that dear Mr. Martin and +yourself are both as well as possible. Do you take in 'Punch'? If not, +you _ought_. Mr. Kenyon and I agreed the other day that we should be +more willing 'to take our politics' from 'Punch' than from any other +of the newspaper oracles. 'Punch' is very generous, and I like him for +everything, except for his rough treatment of Louis Philippe, whom +I believe to be a great man--for a king. And then, it is well worth +fourpence to laugh once a week. I do recommend 'Punch' to you.[114] +Douglas Jerrold is the editor, I fancy, and he has a troop of 'wits,' +such as Planché, Titmarsh, and the author of 'Little Peddlington,' to +support him.... + +Now I have written enough to tire you, I am sure. May God bless +you both! Did you read 'Coningsby,' that very able book, without +character, story, or specific teaching? It is well worth reading, and +worth wondering over. D'Israeli, who is a man of genius, has written, +nevertheless, books which will live longer, and move deeper. But +everybody should read 'Coningsby.' It is a sign of the times. Believe +me, my dearest Mrs. Martin, + +Your very affectionate +BA. + + +_To John Kenyon_ +Tuesday, October 8, 1844. + +Thank you, my dearest cousin, for your kind little note, which I run +the chance of answering by that Wednesday's post you think you may +wait for. So (_via_ your table) I set about writing to you, and the +first word, of course, must be an expression of my contentment with +the 'Examiner' review. Indeed, I am more than contented--delighted +with it. I had some dread, vaguely fashioned, about the 'Examiner'; +the very delay looked ominous. And then, I thought to myself, though +I did not say, that if Mr. Forster praised the verses on Flush to you, +it was just because he had no sympathy for anything else. But it is +all the contrary, you see, and I am the more pleased for the want of +previous expectation; and I must add that if _you_ were so kind as to +be glad of being associated with me by Mr. Forster's reference, _I_ +was so _human_ as to be very very glad of being associated with _you_ +by the same. Also you shall criticise 'Geraldine' exactly as you +like--mind, I don't think it all so rough as the extracts appear to +be, and some variety is attained by that playing at ball with +the _pause_, which causes the apparent roughness--still you shall +criticise 'Geraldine' exactly as you like. I have a great fancy for +writing some day a longer poem of a like class--a poem comprehending +the aspect and manners of modern life, and flinching at nothing of the +conventional. I think it might be done with good effect. You said once +that Tennyson had done it in 'Locksley Hall,' and I half agreed with +you. But looking at 'Locksley Hall' again, I find that not much has +been done in that _way_, noble and passionate and _full_ as the poem +is in other ways. But there is no story, no _manners_, no modern +allusion, except in the grand general adjuration to the 'Mother-age,' +and no approach to the treatment of a conventionality. But Crabbe, as +you say, has done it, and Campbell in his 'Theodore' in a few touches +was near to do it; but _Hayley_ clearly apprehends the species of poem +in his 'Triumphs of Temper' and 'Triumphs of Music,' and so did Miss +Seward, who called it the '_poetical novel_.' Now I do think that a +true poetical novel--modern, and on the level of the manners of the +day--might be as good a poem as any other, and much more popular +besides. Do you not think so? + +I had a letter from dear Miss Mitford this morning, with yours, but I +can find nothing in it that you will care to hear again. She complains +of the vagueness of 'Coningsby,' and praises the French writers--a +sympathy between us, that last, which we wear hidden in our sleeves +for the sake of propriety. Not a word of coming to London, though I +asked. Neither have I heard again from Miss Martineau.... + +Ever most affectionately and gratefully yours, +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 114: It will be remembered that 'Punch' had only been in +existence for three years at this time, which will account for this +apparently superfluous advice.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +October 15, 1844. + +... Not a word more have I heard from Miss Martineau; and shall not +soon, perhaps, as she is commanded not to write, not to read--to do +nothing, in fact, except the getting better. I am not, I confess, +quite satisfied myself. But she herself appears to be so altogether, +and she speaks of '_symptoms_ having given way,' implying a structural +change. Yes, I use the common phrase in respect to mesmerism, and +think 'there is something in it.' Only I think, besides, that, +if something, there must be a great deal in it. Clairvoyance has +precisely the same evidence as the phenomenon of the trance has, and +scientific and philosophical minds are recognising all the phenomena +_as facts_ on all sides of us. Mr. Kenyon's is the best distinction, +and the immense quantity of _humbug_ which embroiders the truth +over and over, and round and round, makes it needful: 'I believe in +mesmerism, but not in _mesmerists_.' + +We have had no other letter from our Egyptians, but can wait a little +longer without losing our patience. + +The blind rises in favour, and the ivy would not fall, if it would but +live. Alas! I am going to try _guano_ as a last resource. You see, in +painting the windows, papa was forced to have it taken down, and the +ivy that grows on ruins and oaks is not usually taken down 'for the +nonce.' I think I shall have a myrtle grove in two or three large pots +inside the window. I have a mind to try it. + +I heard twice from dear Mr. Kenyon at Dover, where he was detained by +the weather, but not since his entrance into France. Which is grand +enough word for the French Majesty itself--'entrance into France.' By +the way, I do hope you have some sympathy with me in my respect for +the King of the French--that right kingly king, Louis Philippe. If +France had _borne_ more liberty, he would not have withheld it, and, +for the rest, and in all truly royal qualities, he is the noblest +king, according to my idea, in Europe--the most royal king in the +encouragement of art and literature, and in the honoring of artists +and men of letters. Let a young unknown writer accomplish a successful +tragedy, and the next day he sits at the king's table--not in a +metaphor, but face to face. See how different the matter is in our +court, where the artists are shown up the back stairs, and where no +poet (even by the back stairs) can penetrate, unless so fortunate +as to be a banker also. What is the use of kings and queens in these +days, except to encourage arts and letters? Really I cannot see. +Anybody can hunt an otter out of a box--who has nerve enough. + +I had a letter from America to-day, and heard that my book was not +published there until the fifth of this October. Still, a few copies +had preceded the publication, and made way among the critics, and +several reviews were in the course of germinating very greenly. Yes, +I was delighted with the 'Examiner,' and all the more so from having +interpreted the long delay of the notice, the gloomiest manner +possible. My friends try to persuade me that the book is making some +impression, and I am willing enough to be convinced. Thank you for all +your kind sympathy, my dear friend. + +Now, do write to me soon again! Have you read Dr. Arnold's Life? I +have not, but am very anxious to do so, from the admirable extracts +in the 'Examiner' of last Saturday, and also from what I hear of it in +other quarters. That Dr. Arnold must have been _a man_, in the largest +and noblest sense. May God bless you, both of you! I think of you, +dearest Mrs. Martin, much, and remain + +Your very affectionate +BA. + + +_To John Kenyon_ +Saturday, October 29, 1844. + +The moral of your letter, my dearest cousin, certainly is that no +green herb of a secret will spring up and flourish between you and me. + +The loss of Flush was a secret. My aunt's intention of coming to +England (for I know not how to explain what she said to you, but by +the supposition of an unfulfilled intention!) was a secret. And Mr. +Chorley's letter to me was a third secret. All turned into light! + +For the last, you may well praise me for discretion. The letter he +wrote was pleasanter to me than many of the kindnesses (apart from +your own) occasioned by my book--and when you asked me once 'what +letters I had received,' if ever a woman deserved to be canonised +for her silence, _I_ did! But the effort was necessary--for he +particularly desired that I would not mention to 'our common friends' +the circumstance of his having written to me; and 'common friends' +could only stand for 'Mr. Kenyon and Miss Mitford.' Of course what you +tell me, of his liking the poems better still, is delightful to hear; +but he reviewed them in the 'Athenaeum' surely! The review we read in +the 'Athenaeum' was by his hand--could not be mistaken ... + +Well; but Flushie! It is too true that he has been lost--lost and won; +and true besides that I was a good deal upset by it _meo more_; and +that I found it hard to eat and sleep as usual while he was in the +hands of his enemies. It is a secret too. We would not tell papa of +it. Papa would have been angry with the unfortunate person who took +Flush out without a chain; and would have kicked against the pricks of +the necessary bribing of the thief in order to the getting him back. +Therefore we didn't tell papa; and as I had a very bad convenient +headache the day my eyes were reddest, I did not see him (except once) +till Flush was on the sofa again. As to the thieves, you are very kind +to talk daggers at them; and I feel no inclination to say 'Don't.' It +is quite too bad and cruel. And think of their exceeding insolence +in taking Flush away from this very door, while Arabel was waiting to +have the door opened on her return from her walk; and in observing (as +they gave him back for six guineas and a half) that they intended to +have him again at the earliest opportunity and that _then_ they must +have _ten_ guineas! I tell poor Flushie (while he looks very earnestly +in my face) that he and I shall be ruined at last, and that I shall +have no money to buy him cakes; but the worst is the anxiety! Whether +I am particularly silly, or not, I don't know; they say here, that I +am; but it seems to me impossible for anybody who really cares for a +dog, to think quietly of his being in the hands of those infamous men. +And then I know how poor Flushie must feel it. When he was brought +home, he began to cry in his manner, whine, as if his heart was full! +It was just what I was inclined to do myself--' and thus was Flushie +lost and won.' + +But we are both recovered now, thank you; and intend to be very +prudent for the future. I am delighted to think of your being in +England; it is the next best thing to your being in London. In regard +to Miss Martineau, I agree with you word for word; but I cannot +overcome an additional _horror_, which you do not express, or feel +probably. + +There is an excellent refutation of Puseyism in the 'Edinburgh +Review'--by whom? and I have been reading besides the admirable +paper by Macaulay in the same number. And now I must be done; having +resolved to let you hear without a post's delay. Otherwise I might +have American news for you, as I hear that a packet has come in. + +My brothers arrived in great spirits at Malta, after a _three weeks' +voyage_ from Gibraltar; and must now be in Egypt, I think and trust. + +May God bless you, my dear cousin. + +Most affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + + +_To John Kenyan_ +50 Wimpole Street: November 5, 1844. + +Well, but am I really so bad? ' _Et tu_!' Can _you_ call me careless? +Remember all the altering of manuscript and proof--and remember how +the obscurities used to fly away before your cloud-compelling, when +you were the Jove of the criticisms! That the books (I won't call +them _our_ books when I am speaking of the faults) are remarkable for +defects and superfluities of evil, I can see quite as well as another; +but then I won't admit that ' it comes' of my carelessness, and +refusing to take pains. On the contrary, my belief is, that very few +writers called ' correct ' who have selected classical models to work +from, pay more laborious attention than I do habitually to the forms +of thought and expression. ' Lady Geraldine ' was an exception in her +whole history. If I write fast sometimes (and the historical fact is +that what has been written fastest, has pleased most), l am not apt +to print without consideration. I appeal to Philip sober, if I am! +My dearest cousin, do remember! As to the faults, I do not think of +defending them, be very sure. My consolation is, that I may try to do +better in time, if I may talk of time. The worst fault of all, as far +as expression goes (the adjective-substantives, whether in prose or +verse, I cannot make up my mind to consider faulty), is that kind of +obscurity which is the same thing with inadequate expression. Be very +sure--try to be very sure--that I am not obstinate and self-opiniated +beyond measure. To _you_ in case, who have done so much for me, and +who think of me so more than kindly, I feel it to be both duty and +pleasure to defer and yield. Still, you know, we could not, if we were +ten years about it, alter down the poems to the terms of all these +reviewers. You would not desire it, if it were possible. I do not +remember that you suggested any change in the verse on Aeschylus. The +critic[115] mistakes my allusion, which was to the fact that in the +acting of the Eumenides, when the great tragic poet did actually +'frown as the gods did,' women fell down fainting from the benches. +I did not refer to the effect of his human countenance 'during +composition.' But I am very grateful to the reviewer whoever he may +be--very--and with need. See how the 'Sun' shines in response to +'Blackwood' (thank you for sending me that notice), when previously we +had had but a wintry rag from the same quarter! No; if I am not spoilt +by _your kindness_, I am not likely to be so by any of these exoteric +praises, however beyond what I expected or deserved. And then I am +like a bird with one wing broken. Throw it out of the window; and +after the first feeling of pleasure in liberty, it falls heavily. I +have had moments of great pleasure in hearing whatever good has been +thought of the poems; but the feeling of _elation_ is too strong or +rather too _long_ for me.... + +Can it be true that Mr. Newman has at last joined the Church of +Rome?[116] If it is true, it will do much to prove to the most +illogical minds the real character of the late movement. It will prove +what the _point of sight_ is, as by the drawing of a straight line. +Miss Mitford told me that he had lately sent a message to a R. +Catholic convert from the English Church, to the effect--'you have +done a good deed, but not at a right time.' It can but be a question +of time, indeed, to the whole party; at least to such as are +logical--and honest.... [_Unsigned_] + +[Footnote 115: In _Blackwood_.] + +[Footnote 116: Newman did not actually enter the Church of Rome until +nearly a year later, in October 1845.] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +50 Wimpole Street: November 8, 1844. + +Thank you, my dear dear cousin, for the kind thought of sending me Mr. +Eagles's letter, and most for your own note. You know we _both_ saw +that he couldn't have written the paper in question; we _both_ were +poets and prophets by that sign, but I hope he understands that I +shall gratefully remember what his intention was. As to his 'friend' +who told him that I had 'imitated Tennyson,' why I can only say and +feel that it is very particularly provoking to hear such things said, +and that I wish people would find fault with my 'metre' in the place +of them. In the matter of 'Geraldine' I shall not be puffed up. I +shall take to mind what you suggest. Of course, if you find it hard to +read, it must be my fault. And then the fact of there being a _story_ +to a poem will give a factitious merit in the eyes of many critics, +which could not be an occasion of vainglory to the consciousness of +the most vainglorious of writers. You made me smile by your suggestion +about the aptitude of critics aforesaid for courting Lady Geraldines. +Certes--however it may be--the poem has had more attention than its +due. Oh, and I must tell you that I had a letter the other day +from Mr. Westwood (one of my correspondents unknown) referring to +'Blackwood,' and observing on the mistake about Goethe. 'Did you not +mean "fell" the verb,' he said, 'or do _I_ mistake?' So, you see, some +people in the world did actually understand what I meant. I am eager +to prove that possibility sometimes. + +How full of life of mind Mr. Eagles's letter is. Such letters always +bring me to think of Harriet Martineau's pestilent plan of doing to +destruction half of the intellectual life of the world, by suppressing +every mental breath breathed through the post office. She was not in +a state of clairvoyance when she said such a thing. I have not heard +from her, but you observed what the 'Critic' said of William Howitt's +being empowered by her to declare the circumstances of her recovery? + +Again and again have I sent for Dr. Arnold's 'Life,' and I do hope to +have it to-day. I am certain, by the extracts, besides your opinion, +that I shall be delighted with it. + +Why shouldn't Miss Martineau's apocalyptic housemaid[117] tell us +whether Flush has a soul, and what is its 'future destination'? As +to the fact of his soul, I have long had a strong opinion on it. The +'grand peut-être,' to which 'without revelation' the human argument is +reduced, covers dog-nature with the sweep of its fringes. + +Did you ever read Bulwer's 'Eva, or the Unhappy Marriage'? _That_ is +a sort of poetical novel, with modern manners inclusive. But Bulwer, +although a poet in prose, writes all his rhythmetical compositions +somewhat prosaically, providing an instance of that curious difference +which exists between the poetical writer and the poet. It is easier +to give the instance than the reason, but I suppose the cause of the +rhythmetical impotence must lie somewhere in the want of the power of +concentration. For is it not true that the most prolix poet is capable +of briefer expression than the least prolix prose writer, or am I +wrong?... + +Your ever affectionate +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 117: Miss Martineau, besides having been cured by mesmerism +herself, was blest with a housemaid who had visions under the same +influence, concerning which Miss Martineau subsequently wrote at great +length in the _Athenaeum_.] + + +_To Cornelius Mathews_ +50 Wimpole Street: November 14, 1844. + +My dear Mr. Mathews,--I write to tell you--only that there is nothing +to tell--only in guard of my gratitude, lest you should come to +think all manner of evil of me and of my supposed propensity to let +everything pass like Mr. Horne's copies of the American edition of his +work, _sub silentio_. Therefore I must write, and you are to please to +understand that I have not up to this moment received either letter or +book by the packet of October 10 which was charged, according to your +intimation, with so much. I, being quite out of patience and out of +breath with expectation, have repeatedly sent to Mr. Putnam, and he +replies with undisturbed politeness that the ship has come in, and +that his part and lot in her, together with mine, remain at the +disposal of the Custom-house officers, and may remain some time +longer. So you see how it is. I am waiting--simply _waiting_, and it +is better to let you know that I am not forgetting instead. + +In the meantime, your kindness will be glad to learn of the prosperity +of my poems in my own country. I am more than satisfied in my most +sanguine hope for them, and a little surprised besides. The critics +have been good to me. 'Blackwood' and 'Tait' have this month both been +generous, and the 'New Monthly' and 'Ainsworth's Magazine' did what +they could. Then I have the 'Examiner' in my favor, and such heads and +hearts as are better and purer than the purely critical, and I am very +glad altogether, and very grateful, and hope to live long enough to +acknowledge, if not to justify, much unexpected kindness. Of course, +some hard criticism is mixed with the liberal sympathy, as you will +see in 'Blackwood,' but some of it I deserve, even in my own eyes; and +all of it I am willing to be patient under. The strange thing is, that +without a single personal friend among these critics, they should have +expended on me so much 'gentillesse,' and this strangeness I feel +very sensitively. Mr. Horne has not returned to England yet, and in a +letter which I received from him some fortnight ago he desired to have +my book sent to him to Germany, just as if he never meant to return to +England again. I answered his sayings, and reiterated, in a way +that would make you smile, my information about your having sent the +American copies to him. I made my _oyez_ very plain and articulate. +He won't say again that he never heard of it--be sure of _that_. Well, +and then Mr. Browning is not in England either, so that whatever you +send for _him_ must await his return from the east or the west or +the south, wherever he is. The new spirit of the age is a wandering +spirit. Mr. Dickens is in Italy. Even Miss Mitford _talks_ of going to +France, which is an extreme case for _her_. Do you never feel inclined +to flash across the Atlantic to us, or can you really remain still in +one place? + +I must not forget to assure you, dear Mr. Mathews, as I may +conscientiously do, even before I have looked into or received the +'Democratic Review,' that whatever fault you may find with me, my +strongest feeling on reading your article will or must be _the sense +of your kindness_. Of course I do not expect, nor should I wish, that +your personal interest in me (proved in so many ways) would destroy +your critical faculty in regard to me. Such an expectation, if I had +entertained it, would have been scarcely honorable to either of us, +and I may assure you that I never did entertain it. No; be at +rest about the article. It is not likely that I shall think it +'inadequate.' And I may as well mention in connection with it that +before you spoke of reviewing me _I_ (in my despair of Mr. Horne's +absence, and my impotency to assist your book) had thrown into my +desk, to watch for some opportunity of publication, a review of your +'Poems on Man,' from my own hand, and that I am still waiting and +considering and taking courage before I send it to some current +periodical. There is a difficulty--there is a feeling of shyness on +my part, because, as I told you, I have no personal friend or +introduction among the pressmen or the critics, and because the +'Athenaeum,' which I should otherwise turn to first, has already +treated of your work, and would not, of course, consent to reconsider +an expressed opinion. Well, I shall do it somewhere. Forgive me the +_appearance_ of my impotency under a general aspect. + +Ah, you cannot guess at the estate of poetry in the eyes of even +such poetical English publishers as Mr. Moxon, who can write sonnets +himself. Poetry is in their eyes just a desperate speculation. A poet +must have tried his public before he tries the publisher--that is, +before he expects the publisher to run a risk for him. But I will make +any effort you like to suggest for any work of yours; I only tell you +how _things are_. By the way, if I ever told you that Tennyson was +ill, I may as rightly tell you now that he is well, again, or was +when I last heard of him. I do not know him personally. Also Harriet +Martineau can walk five miles a day with ease, and believes in +mesmerism with all her strength. Mr. Putnam had the goodness to write +and open his reading room to me, who am in prison instead in mine. + +May God bless you. Do let me hear from you soon, and believe me ever +your friend, + +E.B. BARRETT. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +November 16, 1844. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin, ... To-day I perceive in the 'contents' of the +new 'Westminster Review' that my poems are reviewed in it, and I hope +that you will both be interested enough in my fortunes to read at the +library what may be said of them. Did George tell you that he imagined +(as I also did) the 'Blackwood' paper to be by Mr. Phillimore the +barrister? Well, Mr. Phillimore denies it altogether, has in fact +quarrelled with Christopher North, and writes no more for him, so that +I am quite at a loss now where to carry my gratitude. + +Do write to me soon. I hear that everybody should read Dr. Arnold's +'Life.' Do you know also 'E[=o]then,' a work of genius? You have read, +perhaps, Hewitt's 'Visits to Remarkable Places' in the first series +and second; and Mrs. Jameson's 'Visits and Sketches' and 'Life +in Mexico.' Do you know the 'Santa Fé Expedition,' and Custine's +'Russia,' and 'Forest Life' by Mrs. Clavers? You will think that my +associative process is in a most disorderly state, by all this running +up and down the stairs of all sorts of subjects, in the naming of +books. I would write a list, more as a list should be written, if I +could see my way better, and this will do for a beginning in any case. +You do not like romances, I believe, as I do, and then nearly every +romance now-a-days sets about pulling the joints of one's heart and +soul out, as a process of course. 'Ellen Middleton' (which I have +not read yet) is said to be very painful. Do you know Leigh Hunt's +exquisite essays called 'The Indicator and Companion' &c., published +by Moxon? I hold them at once in delight and reverence. May God bless +you both. + +I am ever your affectionate +BA. + + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +50 Wimpole Street: +Tuesday, November 26, 1844 [postmark]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I thank you much for your little notes; and +you know too well how my sympathy answers you, 'as face to face in a +glass,' for me to assure you of it here. Your account of yourselves +altogether I take to be satisfactory, because I never expected anybody +to gain strength very _rapidly_ while in the actual endurance of hard +medical discipline. I am glad you have found out a trustworthy adviser +at Dover, but I feel nevertheless that you may _both trust_ and _hope_ +in Dr. Bright, of whom I heard the very highest praises the other +day.... + +Now really I don't know why I should fancy you to be so deeply +interested in Dr. Bright, that all this detail should be necessary. +What I _do_ want you to be interested in, is in Miss Martineau's +mesmeric experience,[118] for a copy of which, in the last +'Athenaeum,' I have sent ever since yesterday, in the intention of +sending it to you. You will admit it to be curious as philosophy, and +beautiful as composition; for the rest, I will not answer. Believing +in mesmerism as an agency, I hesitate to assent to the necessary +connection between Miss Martineau's cure and the power; and also I am +of opinion that unbelievers will not very generally become converts +through her representations. There is a tone of exaltation which +will be observed upon, and one or two sentences are suggestive to +scepticism. I will send it to you when I get the number. I understand +that an intimate friend of hers (a lady) travelled down from the +south of England to Tynemouth, simply to try to prevent the public +exposition, but could not prevail. Mr. Milnes has, besides, been her +visitor. He is fully a believer, she says, and affirms to having seen +the same phenomena in the East, but regards the whole subject with +_horror_. This still appears to be Mrs. Jameson's feeling, as you +know it is mine. Mrs. Jameson came again to this door with a note, and +overcoming by kindness, was let in on Saturday last; and sate with me +for nearly an hour, and so ran into what my sisters call 'one of my +sudden intimacies' that there was an embrace for a farewell. Of course +she won my affections through my vanity (Mr. Martin will be sure to +say, so I hasten to anticipate him) and by exaggerations about my +poetry; but really, and although my heart beat itself almost to pieces +for fear of seeing her as she walked upstairs, I do think I should +have liked her _without the flattery_. She is very light--has the +lightest of eyes, the lightest of complexions; no eyebrows, and what +looked to me like very pale red hair, and thin lips of no colour at +all. But with all this indecision of exterior the expression is +rather acute than soft; and the conversation in its principal +characteristics, analytical and examinative; throwing out no thought +which is not as clear as glass--critical, in fact, in somewhat of +an austere sense. I use 'austere,' of course, in its intellectual +relation, for nothing in the world could be kinder, or more graciously +kind, than her whole manner and words were to me. She is coming again +in two or three days, she says. Yes, and she said of Miss Martineau's +paper in the 'Athenaeum,' that she very much doubted the wisdom of +publishing it now; and that for the public's sake, if not for her own, +Miss M. should have waited till the excitement of recovered health +had a little subsided. She said of mesmerism altogether that she was +inclined to believe it, but had not finally made up her convictions. +She used words so exactly like some I have used myself that I must +repeat them, 'that if there was _anything_ in it, there was _so much_, +it became scarcely possible to limit consequences, and the subject +grew awful to contemplate.' ... + +On Saturday I had some copies of my American edition, which dazzle the +English one; and one or two reviews, transatlantically transcendental +in 'oilie flatterie.' And I heard yesterday from the English publisher +Moxon, and he was 'happy to tell me that the work was selling very +well,' and this without an inquiry on my part. To say the truth, I +was _afraid_ to inquire. It is good news altogether. The 'Westminster +Review' won't be out till next month. + +Wordsworth is so excited about the railroad that his wife persuaded +him to go away to recover his serenity, but he has returned raging +worse than ever. He says that fifty members of Parliament have +promised him their opposition. He is wrong, I think, but I also +consider that if the people remembered his genius and his age, and +suspended the obnoxious Act for a few years, they would be right.... + +May God bless you both. + +Most affectionately yours, +BA. + +[Footnote 118: The _Athenaum_ of November 23 contained the first of +a series of articles by Miss Martineau, giving her experiences of +mesmerism.] + + +_To James Martin_ +December 10, 1844. + +I have been thinking of you, my dear Mr. Martin, more and more the +colder it has been, and had made up my mind to write to-day, let me +feel as dull as I might. So, the vane only turns to _you_ instead +of to dearest Mrs. Martin in consequence of your letter--your letter +makes _that_ difference. I should have written to Dover in any +case.... + +You are to know that Miss Martineau's mesmeric experience is only +peculiar as being Harriet Martineau's, otherwise it exhibits the mere +commonplaces of the agency. You laugh, I see. I wish I could laugh +too. I mean, I seriously wish that I could disbelieve in the reality +of the power, which is in every way most repulsive to me.... + +Mrs. Martin is surprised at me and others on account of our 'horror.' +Surely it is a natural feeling, and she would herself be liable to it +if she were _more credulous_. The agency seems to me like the shaking +of the flood-gates placed by the Divine Creator between the unprepared +soul and the unseen world. Then--the subjection of the will and vital +powers of one individual to those of another, to the extent of the +apparent solution of the very identity, is abhorrent from me. And then +(as to the expediency of the matter, and to prove how far believers +may be carried) there is even now a religious sect at Cheltenham, of +persons who call themselves advocates of the 'third revelation,' and +profess to receive their system of theology entirely from patients in +the sleep. + +In the meantime, poor Miss Martineau, as the consequence of her desire +to speak the truth as she apprehends it, is overwhelmed with atrocious +insults from all quarters. For my own part I would rather fall into +the hands of God than of man, and suffer as she did in the body, +instead of being the mark of these cruel observations. But she has +singular strength of mind, and calmly continues her testimony. + +Miss Mitford writes to me: 'Be sure it is _all true_. I see it every +day in my Jane'--her maid, who is mesmerised for deafness, but not, +I believe, with much success curatively. As a remedy, the success +has been far greater in the Martineau case than in others. With +Miss Mitford's maid, the sleep is, however, produced; and the girl +professed, at the third _séance_, to be able to _see behind her_. + +I am glad I have so much interesting matter to look forward to in the +'Eldon Memoirs' as Pincher's biography. I am only in the first volume. +Are English chancellors really made of such stuff? I couldn't have +thought it. Pincher will help to reconcile me to the Law Lords +perhaps. + +And, to turn from Tory legislators, I am vainglorious in announcing to +you that the Anti-Corn-Law League has taken up my poems on the top of +its pikes as antithetic to 'War and Monopoly.' Have I not had a sonnet +from Gutter Lane? And has not the journal called the 'League' reviewed +me into the third heaven, high up--above the pure ether of the five +points? Yes, indeed. Of course I should be a (magna) chartist for +evermore, even without the previous predilection. + +And what do you and Mrs. Martin say about O'Connell? Did you read +last Saturday's 'Examiner'? Tell her that I welcomed her kind letter +heartily, and that this is an answer to both of you. My best love +to her always. May God bless you, dear Mr. Martin! Probably I have +written your patience to an end. If papa or anybody were in the room, +I should have a remembrance for you. + +I remain, myself, + +Affectionately yours, +BA. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Wednesday [December 1844]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Hardly had my letter gone to you yesterday, +when your kind present and not _et_ arrived. I thank you for my boots +with more than the warmth of the worsted, and feel all their merits to +my soul (each sole) while I thank you. A pair of boots or shoes +which 'can't be kicked off' is something highly desirable for me, in +Wilson's opinion; and this is the first thing which struck _her_. +But the 'great idea' 'à propos des bottes,' which occurred to myself, +ought to be unspeakable, like Miss Martineau's great ideas--for I do +believe it was--that I needn't have the trouble every morning, _now_, +of putting on my stockings.... + +My voice is thawing too, with all the rest. If the cold had lasted +I should have been dumb in a day or two more, and as it was, I was +forced to refuse to see Mrs. Jameson (who had the goodness to come +again) because I couldn't speak much above my breath. But I was +tolerably well and brave upon the whole. Oh, these murderous English +winters. The wonder is, how anybody can live through them.... + +Did I tell you, or Mr. Martin, that Rogers the poet, at eighty-three +or four years of age, bore the bank robbery[119] with the +light-hearted bearing of a man 'young and bold,' went out to dinner +two or three times the same week, and said witty things on his own +griefs. One of the other partners went to bed instead, and was not +likely, I heard, to 'get over it.' I felt quite glad and proud for +Rogers. He was in Germany last year, and this summer in Paris; but he +_first_ went to see Wordsworth at the Lakes. + +It is a fine thing when a light burns so clear down into the socket, +isn't it? I, who am not a devout admirer of the 'Pleasures of Memory,' +do admire this perpetual youth and untired energy; it is a fine thing +to my mind. Then, there are other noble characteristics about this +Rogers. A common friend said the other day to Mr. Kenyon, 'Rogers +hates me, I know. He is always saying bitter speeches in relation to +me, and yesterday he said so and so. _But_,' he continued, 'if I were +in distress, there is one man in the world to whom I would go without +doubt and without hesitation, at once, and as to a brother, and _that_ +man is _Rogers_.' Not that I would choose to be obliged to a man who +hated me; but it is an illustration of the fact that if Rogers is +bitter in his words, which we all know he is, he is always benevolent +and generous in his deeds. He makes an epigram on a man, and gives +him a thousand pounds; and the deed is the truer expression of his own +nature. An uncommon development of character, in any case. + +May God bless you both! + +Your most affectionate +BA. + +I am going to tell you, in an antithesis, of the popularising of my +poems. I had a sonnet the other day from Gutter Lane, Cheapside, and +I heard that Count d'Orsay had written one of the stanzas of 'Crowned +and Buried' at the bottom of an engraving of Napoleon which hangs in +his room. Now I allow you to laugh at my vaingloriousness, and then +you may pin it to Mrs. Best's satisfaction in the dedication to +Dowager Majesty. By the way--no, out of the way--it is whispered that +when Queen Victoria goes to Strathfieldsea[120] (how do you spell it?) +she means to visit Miss Mitford, to which rumour Miss Mitford (being +that rare creature, a sensible woman) says: 'May God forbid.' + +[Footnote 119: A great robbery from Rogers' bank on November 23, +1844, in which the thieves carried off 40,000£ worth of notes, besides +specie and securities.] + +[Footnote 120: Strathfieldsaye, the Duke of Wellington's house.] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +Wednesday morning [about December 1844]. + +I thank you, my dear cousin, and did so silently the day before +yesterday, when you were kind enough to bring me the review and write +the good news in pencil. I should be delighted to see you (this is to +certify) notwithstanding the frost; only my voice having suffered, and +being the ghost of itself, you might find it difficult to _hear_ me +without inconvenience. Which is for _you_ to consider, and not +for _me_. And indeed the fog, in addition to the cold, makes it +inexpedient for anyone to leave the house except upon business and +compulsion. + +Oh no--we need not mind any scorn which assails Tennyson and _us_ +together. There is a dishonor that does honor--and 'this is of it.' I +never heard of Barnes.[121] + +Were you aware that the review you brought was in a newspaper called +the 'League,' and laudatory to the utmost extravagance--praising us +too for courage in opposing 'war and monopoly'?--the 'corn ships in +the offing' being duly named. I have heard that it is probably written +by Mr. Cobden himself, who writes for the journal in question, and is +an enthusiast in poetry. If I thought so to the point of conviction, +_do you know, I should be very much pleased_? You remember that I am a +sort of (magna) chartist--only going a little farther! + +Flush was properly ashamed of himself when he came upstairs again for +his most ungrateful, inexplicable conduct towards you; and I lectured +him well; and upon asking him to 'promise never to behave ill to you +again,' he kissed my hands and wagged his tail most emphatically. It +altogether amounted to an oath, I think. The truth is that Flush's +nervous system rather than his temper was in fault, and that, in that +great cloak, he saw you as in a cloudy mystery. And then, when you +stumbled over the bell rope, he thought the world was come to an end. +He is not accustomed, you see, to the vicissitudes of life. Try to +forgive him and me--for his ingratitude seems to 'strike through' to +me; and I am not without remorse. + +Ever most affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + +I inclose Mr. Chorley's note which you left behind you, but which +I did not see until just now. _You_ know that I am not ashamed of +'_progress_.' On the contrary, my only hope is in it. But the question +is not _there_, nor, I think, for the public, except in cases of ripe, +established reputations, as I said before. + +[Footnote 121: William Barnes, the Dorsetshire poet, the first part of +whose _Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect_ appeared in 1844.] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +(On returning some illustrations of Spenser by Mr. Woods) +December 11, 1844. + +... With many thanks, cordial and true, I thank you for the pleasure I +have enjoyed in connection with these proofs of genius. To be honest, +it is my own personal opinion (I give it to you for as much as it +is worth--not much!) that many of the subjects of these drawings +are unfit for graphic representation. What we can bear to see in the +poet's vision, and sustained on the wings of his divine music, we +shrink from a little when brought face to face with, as drawn out +in black and white. You will understand what I mean. The horror and +terror preponderate in the drawings, and what is sublime in the +poet is apt to be extravagant in the artist--and this, not from a +deficiency of power in the latter, but from a treading on ground +forbidden except to the poet's foot. I may be wrong, perhaps--I do +not pretend to be right. I only tell you (as you ask for them) what my +impressions are. + +I need not say that I wish all manner of success to your friend the +artist, and laurels of the weight of gold while of the freshness of +grass--alas! an impossible vegetable!--fabulous as the Halcyon! + + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Monday, December 24, 1844 [postmark]. + +My dearest Mr. Boyd,--I wish I had a note from you to-day--which +optative aorist I am not sure of being either grammatical or +reasonable! Perhaps you have expected to hear from _me_ with more +reason.... + +I fancied that you would be struck by Miss Martineau's lucid and able +style. She is a very admirable woman--and the most logical intellect +of the age, for a woman. On this account it is that the men throw +stones at her, and that many of her own sex throw dirt; but if I +begin on this subject I shall end by gnashing my teeth. A righteous +indignation fastens on me. I had a note from her the other day, +written in a noble spirit, and saying, in reference to the insults +lavished on her, that she was prepared from the first for _publicity_, +and ventured it all for the sake of what she considered the truth--she +was sustained, she said, by the recollection of Godiva. + +Do you remember who Godiva was--or shall I tell you? Think of +it--Godiva of Coventry, and peeping Tom. The worst and basest is, that +in this nineteenth century there are thousands of Toms to one. + +I think, however, myself, and with all my admiration for Miss +Martineau, that her statement and her reasonings on it are not free +from vagueness and apparent contradictions. She writes in a state of +enthusiasm, and some of her expressions are naturally coloured by her +mood of mind and nerve. + +May this Christmas give you ease and pleasantness, in various ways, my +dearest friend! My Christmas wish for myself is to hear that you are +well. I cannot bear to think of you suffering. Are the nights better? +May God bless you. Shall you not think it a great thing if the poems +go into a second edition within the twelvemonth? I am surprised at +your not being satisfied. Consider what poetry is, and that four +months have not passed since the publication of mine; and that, where +poems have to make their way by force of _themselves_, and not of name +nor of fashion, the first three months cannot present the period +of the quickest sale. That must be for afterwards. Think of me on +Christmas Day, as of one who gratefully loves you. + +ELIBET. + + +A passing reference in a previous letter (above, p. 217) has told of +the beginning of another friendship, which was to hold a large place +in Miss Barrett's later life; and the next letter is the first now +extant which was written to this new friend, Anna Jameson. Mrs. +Jameson had not at this time written the works on sacred art with +which her name is now chiefly associated; but she was already engaged +in her long struggle to earn her livelihood by her pen. Her first +work, 'The Diary of an Ennuyée' (1826), written before her marriage, +had attracted considerable attention. Since then she had written +her 'Characteristics of Women,' 'Essays on Shakespeare's Female +Characters,' 'Visits and Sketches,' and a number of compilations +of less importance. Quite recently she had been engaged to write +handbooks to the public and private art galleries of London, and had +so embarked on the career of art authorship in which her best work was +done. + +The beginning and end of the following letter are lost. The subject of +it is the long and hostile comment which appeared in the 'Athenaeum' +for December 28 on Miss Martineau's letters on mesmerism. + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +[End of December 1844.] + +... For the 'Athenaeum,' I have always held it as a journal, first--in +the very first rank--both in ability and integrity; and knowing Mr. +Dilke _is_ the 'Athenaeum,' I could make no mistake in my estimation +of himself. I have personal reasons for gratitude to both him and his +journal, and I have always felt that it was honorable to me to have +them. Also, I do not at all think that because a woman is a woman, +she is on that account to be spared the ordinary risks of the arena +in literature and philosophy. I think no such thing. Logical chivalry +would be still more radically debasing to us than any other. It is not +therefore at all as a Harriet Martineau, but as a thinking and feeling +Martineau (now _don't_ laugh), that I hold her to have been hardly +used in the late controversy. And, if you don't laugh at _that_, don't +be too grave either, with the thought of your own share and position +in the matter; because, as must be obvious to everyone (yourself +included), you did everything possible to you to prevent the +catastrophe, and no man and no friend could have done better. My +brother George told me of his conversation with you at Mr. Lough's, +but _are_ you not mistaken in fancying that she blames you, that +she is cold with you? I really think you must be. Why, if she is +displeased with you she must be unjust, _and is she ever unjust_? I +ask you. _I_ should imagine not, but then, with all my insolence of +talking of her as my friend, I only admire and love her at a distance, +in her books and in her letters, and do not know her face to face, and +in living womanhood at all. She wrote to me once, and since we have +corresponded; and as in her kindness she has called me her friend, I +leap hastily at an unripe fruit, perhaps, and echo back the word. She +is your friend in a completer, or, at least, a more ordinary sense; +and indeed it is impossible for me to believe without strong evidence +that she could cease to be your friend on such grounds as are +apparent. Perhaps she does not write because she cannot contain her +wrath against Mr. Dilke (which, between ourselves, she cannot, very +well), and respects your connection and regard for him. Is not _that_ +a 'peradventure' worth considering? I am sure that you have no _right_ +to be uneasy in any case. + +And now I do not like to send you this letter without telling you +my impression about mesmerism, lest I seem reserved and 'afraid of +committing myself,' as prudent people are. I will confess, then, +that my _impression_ is in favour of the reality of mesmerism to some +unknown extent. I particularly dislike believing it, I would rather +believe most other things in the world; but the evidence of the 'cloud +of witnesses' does thunder and lightning so in my ears and eyes, +that I believe, while my blood runs cold. I would not be practised +upon--no, not for one of Flushie's ears, and I hate the whole +theory. It is hideous to my imagination, especially what is called +phrenological mesmerism. After all, however, truth is to be accepted; +and testimony, when so various and decisive, is an ascertainer of +truth. Now do not tell Mr. Dilke, lest he excommunicate me. + +But I will not pity you for the increase of occupation produced by an +increase of such comfort as your mother's and sister's presence must +give. What it will be for you to have a branch to sun yourself on, +after a long flight against the wind! + + +_To Mr. Chorley_ +50 Wimpole Street: January 3, 1845. + +Dear Mr. Chorley,--I hope it will not be transgressing very much +against the etiquette of journalism, or against the individual +delicacy which is of more consequence to both of us, if I venture +to thank you by one word for the pages which relate to me in your +excellent article in the 'New Quarterly.' It is not my habit to thank +or to remonstrate with my reviewers, and indeed I believe I may tell +you that I never wrote to thank anyone before on these grounds. I +could not thank anyone for praising me--I would not thank him for +praising me against his conscience; and if he praised me to the +measure of his conscience only, I should have little (as far as the +praise went) to thank him for. Therefore I do not thank you for the +praise in your article, but for the kind cordial spirit which pervades +both praise and blame, for the willingness in praising, and for the +gentleness in finding fault; for the encouragement without unseemly +exaggeration, and for the criticisms without critical scorn. Allow me +to thank you for these things and for the pleasure I have received by +their means. I am bold to do it, because I hear that you confess the +reviewership; and am the bolder, because I recognised your hand in +an act of somewhat similar kindness in the 'Athenaeum' at the first +appearance of the poems. + +While I am writing of the 'New Quarterly,' I take the liberty of +making a remark, not of course in relation to myself--I know too well +my duty to my judges--but to your view of the Vantage ground of the +poetesses of England. It is a strong impression with me that previous +to Joanna Baillie there was no such thing in England as a poetess; +and that so far from triumphing over the rest of the world in that +particular product, we lay until then under the feet of the world. +We hear of a Marie in Brittany who sang songs worthy to be mixed with +Chaucer's for true poetic sweetness, and in Italy a Vittoria Colonna +sang her noble sonnets. But in England, where is our poetess before +Joanna Baillie--poetess in the true sense? Lady Winchilsea had an +_eye_, as Wordsworth found out; but the Duchess of Newcastle had +more poetry in her--the comparative praise proving the negative +position--than Lady Winchilsea. And when you say of the French, that +they have only epistolary women and wits, while we have our Lady Mary, +why what would Lady Mary be to us _but_ for her letters and her wit? +Not a poetess, surely! unless we accept for poetry her graceful _vers +de société_. + +Do forgive me if an impulse has carried me too far. It has been long +'a fact,' to my view of the matter, that Joanna Baillie is the first +female poet in all senses in England; and I fell with the whole weight +of fact and theory against the edge of your article. + +I recall myself now to my first intention of being simply, but not +silently, grateful to you; and entreating you to pardon this letter +too quickly to think it necessary-to answer it.... + +I remain, very truly yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + + +_To Mr. Chorley_ +50 Wimpole Street: January 7, 1845. + +Dear Mr. Chorley,--You are very good to deign to answer my +impertinences, and not to be disgusted by my defamations of 'the +grandmothers,' and (to diminish my perversity in your eyes) I am ready +to admit at once that we are generally too apt to run into premature +classification--the error of all imperfect knowledge; and into +unreasonable exclusiveness--the vice of it. We spoil the shining +surface of life by our black lines drawn through and through, as +if ominously for a game of the fox and goose. For my part, however +imperfect my practice may be, I am intimately convinced--and more and +more since my long seclusion--that to live in a house with windows on +every side, so as to catch both the morning and evening sunshine, is +the best and brightest thing we have to do--to say nothing about the +justest and wisest. Sympathies are our opportunities of good. + +Moreover, I know nothing of your 'sweet mistress Anne.'[122] I never +read a verse of hers. Ignorance goes for much, you see, in all our +mal-criticisms, and my ignorance goes to this extent. I cannot write +to you of your Anglo-American poetess. + +Also, in my sweeping speech about the grandmothers, I should have +stopped before such instances as the exquisite ballad of 'Auld Robin +Gray,' which is attributed to a woman, and the pathetic 'Ballow my +Babe,' which tradition calls 'Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament.' I have +certain doubts of my own, indeed, in relation to both origins, and +with regard to 'Robin Gray' in particular; but doubts are not worthy +stuff enough to be taken into an argument, and certainly, therefore, +I should have admitted those two ballads as worthy poems before the +_Joannan aera_. + +For what I ventured to say otherwise, would you not consent to +join our sympathies, and receive the 'choir' (ah! but you are very +cunningly subtle in your distinctions; I am afraid I was too simple +for you) as agreeable writers of verses sometimes, leaving the word +_poet_ alone? Because, you see, what you call the 'bad dispensation' +by no means accounts for the want of the faculty of poetry, strictly +so called. England has had many learned women, not merely readers +but writers of the learned languages, in Elizabeth's time and +afterwards--women of deeper acquirements than are common now in the +greater diffusion of letters; and yet where were the poetesses? The +divine breath which seemed to come and go, and, ere it went, +filled the land with that crowd of true poets whom we call the old +dramatists--why did it never pass, even in the lyrical form, over the +lips of a woman? How strange! And can we deny that it was so? I look +everywhere for grandmothers and see none. It is not in the filial +spirit I am deficient, I do assure you--witness my reverent love of +the grandfathers! + +Seriously, I do not presume to enter into argument with you, and this +in relation to a critical paper which I admire in so many ways and +am grateful for in some; but is not the poet a different man from the +cleverest versifier, and is it not well for the world to be taught +the difference? The divineness of poetry is far more to me than either +pride of sex or personal pride, and, though willing to acknowledge the +lowest breath of the inspiration, I cannot the 'powder and patch.' As +powder and patch I may, but not as poetry. And though I in turn may +suffer for this myself--though I too (_anch' io_) may be turned out of +'Arcadia,' and told that I am not a poet, still, I should be content, +I hope, that the divineness of poetry be proved in my humanness, +rather than lowered to my uses. + +But you shall not think me exclusive. Of poor L.E.L., for instance, +I could write with _more_ praiseful appreciation than you can. It +appears to me that she had the gift--though in certain respects she +dishonored the art--and her latter lyrics are, many of them, of great +beauty and melody, such as, having once touched the ear of a reader, +live on in it. I observe in your 'Life of Mrs. Hemans' (shall I tell +you how often I have read those volumes?) she (Mrs. H.) never appears, +in any given letter or recorded opinion, to esteem her contemporary. +The antagonism lay, probably, in the higher parts of Mrs. Hemans's +character and mind, and we are not to wonder at it. + +It is very pleasant to me to have your approbation of the sonnets on +George Sand, on the points of feeling and lightness, on which all my +readers have not absolved me equally, I have reason to know. I am more +a latitudinarian in literature than it is generally thought expedient +for women to be; and I have that admiration for _genius_, which dear +Mr. Kenyon calls my 'immoral sympathy with power;' and if Madame +Dudevant[123] is not the first female genius of any country or +age, I really do not know who is. And then she has certain +noblenesses--granting all the evil and 'perilous stuff'--noblenesses +and royalnesses which make me loyal. Do pardon me for intruding all +this on you, though you cannot justify me--_you_, who are occupied +beyond measure, and _I_, who know it! I have been under the delusion, +too, during this writing, of having something like a friend's claim +to write and be troublesome. I have lived so near your friends that I +keep the odour of them! A mere delusion, alas! my only personal +right in respect to you being one that I am not likely to forget or +waive--the right of being grateful to you. + +But so, and looking again at the last words of your letter, I see that +you 'wish,' in the kindest of words, 'to do something more for me.' +I hope some day to take this 'something more' of your kindness out +in the pleasure of personal intercourse; and if, in the meantime, you +should consent to flatter my delusion by letting me hear from you now +and then, if ever you have a moment to waste and inclination to waste +it, why I, on my side, shall always be ready to thank you for the +'something more' of kindness, as bound in the duty of gratitude. In +any case I remain + +Truly and faithfully yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 122: Probably Miss Anne Seward, a minor poetess who enjoyed +considerable popularity at the end of the eighteenth century. Her +elegies on Captain Cook and Major André went through several editions, +as did her _Louisa_, a poetical novel, a class of composition in +which she was the predecessor of Mrs. Browning herself. Her collected +poetical works were edited after her death by Sir Walter Scott +(1810).] + +[Footnote 123: The real name of George Sand.] + + +_To Mr. Chorley_ +[_The beginning of this letter is lost_] +[1845] + +... to the awful consideration of the possibility of my reading +a novel or caring for the story of it (_proh pudor!_), that I am +probably, not to say certainly, the most complete and unscrupulous +romance reader within your knowledge. Never was a child who cared more +for 'a story' than I do; never even did I myself, _as_ a child, care +more for it than I do. My love of fiction began with my breath, and +will end with it; and goes on increasing; and the heights and depths +of the consumption which it has induced you may guess at perhaps, +but it is a sublime idea from its vastness, and will gain on you but +slowly. On my tombstone may be written '_Ci-gît_ the greatest novel +reader in the world,' and nobody will forbid the inscription; and I +approve of Gray's notion of paradise more than of his lyrics, when he +suggests the reading of romances ever new, [Greek: _eis tous aiônas_.] +Are you shocked at me? Perhaps so. And you see I make no excuses, as +an invalid might. Invalid or not, I should have a romance in a drawer, +if not behind a pillow, and I might as well be true and say so. +There is the love of literature, which is one thing, and the love +of fiction, which is another. And then, I am not fastidious, as Mrs. +Hemans was, in her high purity, and therefore the two loves have a +race-course clear. + +This is a long preface to coming to speak of the 'Improvisatore.'[124] +I had sent for it already to the library, and shall dun them for it +twice as much for the sake of what you say. Only I hope I may care for +the story. I shall try. + +And for the _rococo_, I have more feeling for it, in a sense, than I +once had, for, some two years ago, I passed through a long dynasty +of French memoirs, which made me feel quite differently about the +littlenesses of greatnesses. I measured them all from the heights +of the 'tabouret,'[125] and was a good Duchess, in the 'non-natural' +meaning, for the moment. Those memoirs are charming of their kind, and +if life were cut in filagree paper would be profitable reading to the +soul. Do you not think so? And you mean besides, probably, that you +care for _beauty in detail_, which we all should do if our senses were +better educated. + +So the confession is not a dreadful one, after all, and mine may +involve more evil, and would to ninety-nine out of a hundred 'sensible +and cultivated people.' Think what Mrs. Ellis would say to the 'Women +of England' about me in her fifteenth edition, if she knew! + +And do _you_ know that dear Miss Mitford spent this day week with me, +notwithstanding the rain? + +Very truly yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +I have forgotten what I particularly wished to say--viz. that I never +thought of _expecting_ to hear from you. I understand that when you +write it is pure grace, and never to be expected. You have too much to +do, I understand perfectly. + +The east wind seems to be blowing all my letters about to-day; +the _t's_ and _e's_ wave like willows. Now if crooked _e's_ mean a +'greenshade' (not taken rurally), what awful significance can have the +whole crooked alphabet? + +[Footnote 124: By Hans Andersen; an English translation by Mary Howitt +was published in 1845.] + +[Footnote 125: Duchesses in the French court had the privilege of +seating themselves on a _tabouret_ or stool while the King took his +meals; hence the _droit du tabouret_ comes to mean the rank of a +duchess.] + + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Saturday, January 1844 [should be 1845].[126] + +I must tell you, my dearest Mrs. Martin, Mr. Kenyon has read to me an +extract from a private letter addressed by H. Martineau to Moxon the +publisher, to the effect that Lord Morpeth was down on his knees +in the middle of the room a few nights ago, in the presence of the +somnambule J., and conversing with her in Greek and Latin, that the +four Miss Liddels were also present, and that they five talked to +her during one _séance_ in five foreign languages, viz. Latin, Greek, +French, Italian, and German. When the mesmeriser touches the organ of +_imitation_ on J.'s head, while the strange tongue is in the course of +being addressed to her, she translates into English word for word +what is said; but when the organ of _language_ is touched, she simply +answers in English what is said. + +My 'few words of comment' upon this are, that I feel to be more and +more standing on my head--which does not mean, you will be pleased to +observe, that I understand. + +Well, and how are you both going on? My voice is quite returned; and +papa continues, I am sorry to say, to have a bad cold and cough. He +means to stay in the house to-day and try what prudence will do. + +We have heard from Henry, at Alexandria still, but a few days before +sailing, and he and Stormie are bringing home, as a companion to +Flushie, a beautiful little gazelle. What do you think of it? I would +rather have it than the 'babby,' though the flourish of trumpets on +the part of the possessors seems quite in favor of the latter. + +And I had a letter from Browning the poet last night, which threw me +into ecstasies--Browning, the author of 'Paracelsus,' and king of the +mystics. + +[_The rest of this letter is missing_.] + +[Footnote 126: The mention of her brothers being at Alexandria is +sufficient to show that 1845 must be the true date.] + + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Saturday, January 1845. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I believe our last letters crossed, and we +might draw lots for the turn of receiving one, so that you are to take +it for supererogatory virtue in me altogether if I begin to write to +you as 'at these presents.' But I want to know how you both are, and +if your last account may continue to be considered the true one. You +have been poising yourself on the equal balance of letters, as weak +consciences are apt to do, but I write that you may write, and also, +a little, that I may thank you for the kindness of your last letter, +which was so very kind. + +No, indeed, dearest Mrs. Martin. If I do not say oftener that I have +a strong and grateful trust in your affection for me, and therefore +in your interest in all that concerns me, it is not that it is less +strong and grateful. What I said or sang of Miss Martineau's letter +was no consequence of a distrust of _you_, but of a feeling within +myself that for me to show about such a letter was scarcely becoming, +and, in the matter of modesty, nowise discreet. I suppose I was +writing excuses to myself for showing it to you. I cannot otherwise +account for the saying and singing. And, for the rest, nobody can say +or sing that I am not frank enough to you--to the extent of telling +all manner of nonsense about myself which can only be supposed to be +interesting on the ground of your being presupposed to care a little +for the person concerned. Now am I not frank enough? And by the way, I +send you 'The Seraphim'[127] at last, by this day's railroad. + +Thursday. + +To prove to you that I had not forgotten you before your letter came, +here is the fragment of an unfinished one which I send you, to begin +with--an imperfect fossil letter, which no comparative anatomy will +bring much sense out of--except the plain fact _that you were not +forgotten_.... + +From Alexandria we heard yesterday that they sailed from thence on the +first of January, and the home passage may be long. + +The _changes_ in Mary Minto on account of mesmerism were merely +imaginary as far as I can understand. Nobody here observed any change +in her. Oh no. These things will be fancied sometimes. That she is an +enthusiastic girl, and that the subject took strong hold upon her, is +true enough, and not the least in the world--according to my mind--to +be wondered at. By the way, I had a letter and the present of a work +on mesmerism--Mr. Newnham's--from his daughter, who sent it to me the +other day, in the kindest way, 'out of gratitude for my poetry,' as +she says, and from a desire that it might do me physical good in the +matter of health. I do not at all know her. I wrote to thank her, of +course, for the kindness and sympathy which, as she expressed them, +quite touched me; and to explain how I did not stand in reach just +now of the temptations of mesmerism. I might have said that I shrank +nearly as much from these 'temptations' as from Lord Bacon's stew of +infant children for the purposes of witchcraft. + +Well, then, I am getting deeper and deeper into correspondence with +Robert Browning, poet and mystic, and we are growing to be the truest +of friends. If I live a little longer shut up in this room, I shall +certainly know everybody in the world. Mrs. Jameson came again +yesterday, and was very agreeable, but tried vainly to convince me +that the 'Vestiges of Creation,' which I take to be one of the most +melancholy books in the world, is the most comforting, and that Lady +Byron was an angel of a wife. I persisted (in relation to the former +clause) in a 'determinate counsel' not to be a fully developed monkey +if I could help it, but when Mrs. J. assured me that she knew all +the circumstances of the separation, though she could not betray a +confidence, and entreated me 'to keep my mind open' on a subject which +would one day be set in the light, I stroked down my feathers as well +as I could, and listened to reason. You know--or perhaps you do +_not_ know--that there are two women whom I have hated all my life +long--_Lady Byron and Marie Louise_. To prove how false the public +effigy of the former is, however, Mrs. Jameson told me that she knew +_nothing of mathematics, nothing of science_, and that the element +preponderating in her mind is the _poetical_ element--that she cares +much for _my_ poetry! How deep in the knowledge of the depths of +vanity must Mrs. J. be, to tell me _that_--now mustn't she? But there +was--yes, and is--a strong adverse feeling to work upon, and it is not +worked away. + +Then, I have seen a copy of a note of Lord Morpeth to H. Martineau, to +the effect that he considered the mesmeric phenomena witnessed by him +(inclusive, remember, of the _languages_) to be 'equally beautiful, +wonderful, and _undeniable_' but he is prudent enough to desire that +no use should be made of this letter ... And now no more for to-day. + +With love to Mr. Martin, ever believe me +Your affectionate +BA. + +[Footnote 127: A copy of the 1838 volume for which Mrs. Martin had +asked.] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +Saturday, February 8, 1845. + +I return to you, dearest Mr. Kenyon, the two numbers of Jerold +Douglas's[128] magazine, and I wish 'by that same sign' I could invoke +your presence and advice on a letter I received this morning. You +never would guess what it is, and you will wonder when I tell you that +it offers a request from the _Leeds Ladies' Committee_, authorised and +backed by the London _General Council of the League_, to your cousin +Ba, that she would write them a poem for the Corn Law Bazaar to be +holden at Covent Garden next May. Now my heart is with the cause, and +my vanity besides, perhaps, for I do not deny that I am pleased with +the request so made, and if left to myself I should be likely at once +to say 'yes,' and write an agricultural-evil poem to complete the +factory-evil poem into a national-evil circle. And I do not myself +see how it would be implicating my name with a political party to the +extent of wearing a badge. The League is not a party, but 'the meeting +of the waters' of several parties, and I am trying to persuade papa's +Whiggery that I may make a poem which will be a fair exponent of the +actual grievance, leaving the remedy free for the hands of fixed-duty +men like him, or free-trade women like myself. As to wearing the badge +of a party, either in politics or religion, I may say that never in my +life was I so far from coveting such a thing. And then poetry breathes +in another outer air. And then there is not an existent set of +any-kind-of-politics I could agree with if I tried--_I_, who am a +sort of fossil republican! You shall see the letters when you +come. Remember what the 'League' newspaper said of the 'Cry of the +Children.' + +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 128: Evidently a slip of the pen for Douglas Jerrold, whose +'Shilling Magazine' began to come out in 1845.] + + +_To Miss Commeline_ +50 Wimpole Street: [February-March 1845]. + +My dear Miss Commeline,--I do hope that you will allow me to appear +to remember you as I never have ceased to do in reality, and at a time +when sympathy of friends is generally acceptable, to offer you mine +as if I had some right of friendship to do so. And I am encouraged the +more to attempt this because I never shall forget that in the hour of +the bitterest agony of my life your brother wrote me a letter which, +although I did not read it, I was too ill and distracted, I was yet +shown the outside of some months afterwards and enabled to appreciate +the sympathy fully. Such a kindness could not fail to keep alive in +me (if the need of keeping alive _were_!) the memory of the various +kindnesses received by me and mine from all your family, nor fail to +excite me to desire to impress upon you my remembrance of _you_ and +my regard, and the interest with which I hear of your joys and sorrows +whenever they are large enough to be seen from such a distance. Try +to believe this of me, dear Miss Commeline, yourself, and let your +sisters and your brother believe it also. If sorrow in its reaction +makes us think of our friends, let my name come among the list of +yours to you, and with it let the thought come that I am not the +coldest and least sincere. May God bless and comfort you, I say, with +a full heart, knowing what afflictions like yours are and must be, +but confident besides that 'we know not what we do' in weeping for the +dearest. In our sorrow we see the rough side of the stuff; in our joys +the smooth; and who shall say that when the taffeta is turned the most +_silk_ may not be in the sorrows? It is true, however, that sorrows +are heavy, and that sometimes the conditions of life (which sorrows +are) seem hard to us and overcoming, and I believe that much suffering +is necessary before we come to learn that the world is a good place to +live in and a good place to die in for even the most affectionate and +sensitive. + +How glad I should be to hear from you some day, when it is not +burdensome for you to write at length and fully concerning all of +you--of your sister Maria, and of Laura, and of your brother, and +of all your occupations and plans, and whether it enters into your +dreams, not to say plans, ever to come to London, or to follow the +track of your many neighbours across the seas, perhaps.... + +For ourselves we have the happiness of seeing our dear papa so well, +that I am almost justified in fancying happily that you would not +think him altered. He has perpetual youth like the gods, and I may +make affidavit to your brother nevertheless that we never boiled him +up to it. Also his spirits are good and his 'step on the stair' so +light as to comfort me for not being able to run up and down them +myself. I am essentially better in health, but remain weak and +shattered and at the mercy of a breath of air through a crevice; and +thus the unusually severe winter has left me somewhat lower than usual +without surprising anybody. Henrietta and Arabel are quite well and at +home; George on circuit, always obliged by your proffered hospitality; +and Charles John and Henry returning from a voyage to Alexandria in +papa's own vessel, the 'Statira.' I set you an imperfect example of +egotism, and hope that you will double my _I's_ and _we's_, and kindly +trust to me for being interested in yours.... + +Yours affectionately, +E.B. BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Saturday, March 3, 1845. + +My dearest Friend,--I am aware that I should have written to you +before, but the cold weather is apt to disable me and to make me feel +idle when it does not do so quite. Now I am going to write about your +remarks on the 'Dublin Review.' + +Certainly I agree with you that there can be no necessity for +explaining anything about the tutorship if you do not kick against the +pricks of the insinuation yourself, and especially as I consider that +you _were_ in a sense my 'tutor,' inasmuch as I may say, both that +nobody ever taught me so much Greek as you, and also that without you +I should have probably lived and died without any knowledge of the +Greek Fathers. The Greek classics I should have studied by love +and instinct; but the Fathers would probably have remained in their +sepulchres, as far as my reading them was concerned. Therefore, very +gratefully do I turn to you as my 'tutor' in the best sense, and the +more persons call you so, the better it is for the pleasures of my +gratitude. The review amused me by hitting on the right meaning there, +and besides by its percipiency about your remembering me during your +travels in the East, and sending me home the Cyprus wine. Some of +these reviewers have a wonderful gift at inferences. The 'Metropolitan +Magazine' for March (which is to be sent to you when papa has read +it) contains a flaming article in my favour, calling me 'the friend of +Wordsworth,' and, moreover, a very little lower than the angels. You +shall see it soon, and it is only just out, of course, being the March +number. The praise is beyond thanking for, and then I do not know whom +to thank--I cannot at all guess at the writer. + +I have had a kind note from Lord Teynham, whose oblivion I had ceased +to doubt, it seemed so _proved_ to me that he had forgotten me. But +he writes kindly, and it gave me pleasure to have some sign of +recollection, if not of regard, from one whom I consider with +unalterable and grateful respect, and shall always, although I am +aware that he denies all sympathy to my works and ways in literature +and the world. In fact, and to set my poetry aside, he has joined that +'strait sect' of the Plymouth Brethren, and, of course, has straitened +his views since we met, and I, by the reaction of solitude and +suffering, have broken many bands which held me at that time. He was +always straiter than I, and now the difference is immense. For I think +the world wider than I once thought it, and I see God's love broader +than I once saw it. To the 'Touch not, taste not, handle not' of the +strict religionists, I feel inclined to cry, 'Touch, taste, handle, +_all things are pure_.' But I am writing this for you and not for +him, and you probably will agree with me, if you think as you used to +think, at least. + +But I do not agree with _you_ on the League question, nor on the woman +question connected with it, only we will not quarrel to-day, and I +have written enough already without an argument at the end. + +Can you guess what I have been doing lately? Washing out my +conscience, effacing the blot on my escutcheon, performing an +expiation, translating over again from the Greek the 'Prometheus' of +Aeschylus. + +Yes, my very dear friend, I could not bear to let that frigid, rigid +exercise, called a version and called mine, cold as Caucasus, and +flat as the neighbouring plain, stand as my work. A palinodia, a +recantation was necessary to me, and I have achieved it. Do you blame +me or not? Perhaps I may print it in a magazine, but this is not +decided. How delighted I am to think of your being well. It makes me +very happy. + +Your ever affectionate and grateful +ELIBET. + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +March 4, 1845. + +I reproach myself, dear Mr. W., for my silence, and began to do so +before your kind note reminded me of its unkindness. I had indeed +my pen in my hand three days ago to write to you, but a cross fate +plucked at my sleeve for the ninety-ninth time, and left me guilty. +And you do not write to reproach me! You only avenge yourself softly +by keeping back all news of your health, and by not saying a word +of the effect on you of the winter which has done its spiriting +so ungently. Which brings me down to myself. For somebody has been +dreaming of me, and dreams, you know, must go by contraries. And +how could it be otherwise? Although I am on the whole essentially +better--on the whole!--yet the peculiar severity of the winter has +acted on me, and the truth is that for the last month, precisely +the last month, I have been feeling (off and on, as people say) +very uncomfortable. Not that I am essentially worse, but essentially +better, on the contrary, only that the feeling of discomfort and +trouble at the heart (physically) _will_ come with the fall of the +thermometer, and the voice will go!... + +And then I have another question to enunciate--will the oracle answer? + +Do you know _who wrote the article in the 'Metropolitan'_? Beseech +you, answer me. I have a suspicion, true, that the critics have been +supernaturally kind to me, but the kindness of this 'Metropolitan' +critic so passes the ordinary limit of kindness, metropolitan or +critical, that I cannot but look among my personal friends for the +writer of the article. Coming to personal friends, I reject one on one +ground and one on another--for one the graciousness is too graceful, +and for another the grace almost too gracious. I am puzzled and dizzy +with doubt; and--is it you? Answer me, will you? If so, I should owe +so much gratitude to you. Suffer me to pay it!--permit the pleasure to +me of paying it!--for I know too much of the pleasures of gratitude to +be willing to lose one of them. + + +_To John Kenyan_ +March 6, [1845]. + +Thank you, dearest Mr. Kenyon--they are very fine. The poetry is in +_them_, rather than in Blair. And now I send them back, and Cunningham +and Jerrold, with thanks on thanks; and if you will be kind enough not +to insist on my reading the letters to Travis[129] within the 'hour,' +they shall wait for the 'Responsibility,' and the two go to you +together. + +And as to the tiring, it has not been much, and the happy day was well +worth being tired _for_. It is better to be tired with pleasure than +with frost; and if I have the last fatigue too, why it is March, +and it is the hour of my martyrdom always. But I am not ill--only +uncomfortable. + +Ah, the 'relenting'! it is rather a bad sign, I am afraid; +notwithstanding the subtilty of your consolations; but I stroke down +my philosophy, to make it shine, like a cat's back in the dark. +The argument from more deserving poets who prosper less is not very +comforting, is it? I trow not. + +But as to the review, be sure--be very sure that it is not Mr. +Browning's. How you could _think_ even of Mr. Browning, surprises me. +Now, as for me, I know as well _as he does himself_ that he has had +nothing to do with it. + +I should rather suspect Mr. Westwood, the author of some fugitive +poems, who writes to me sometimes; and the suspicion having occurred +to me, I have written to put the question directly. You shall hear, if +I hear in reply. + +May God bless you always. I have heard from dear Miss Mitford. + +Ever affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 129: By Porson, on the authenticity of I John v. 7.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +March 29, 1845 [postmark]. + +My dearest Mr. Boyd,--As Arabel has written out for you the +glorification of 'Peter of York,'[130] I shall use an edge of the same +paper to 'fall on your sense' with my gratitude about the Cyprus wine. +Indeed, I could almost upbraid you for sending me another bottle. It +is most supererogatory kindness in you to think of such a thing. And +I accept it, nevertheless, with thanks instead of remonstrances, and +promise you to drink your health in and the spring in together, and +the east wind out, if you do not object to it. I have been better for +several days, but my heart is not yet very orderly--not being able to +recover the veins, I suppose, all in a moment. + +For the rest, you always mean what is right and affectionate, and I am +not apt to mistake your meanings in this respect. Be indulgent to me +as far as you can, when it appears to you that I sink far below your +religious standard, as I am sure I must do oftener than you remind +me. Also, it certainly does appear, to my mind, that we are not, as +Christians, called to the exclusive expression of Christian doctrine, +either in poetry or prose. All truth and all beauty and all music +belong to God--He is in all things; and in speaking of all, we speak +of Him. In poetry, which includes all things, 'the diapason closeth +full in God.' I would not lose a note of the lyre, and whatever He has +included in His creation I take to be holy subject enough for _me_. +That I am blamed for this view by many, I know, but I cannot see it +otherwise, and when you pay your visit to 'Peter of York' and me, and +are able to talk everything over, we shall agree tolerably well, I do +not doubt. + +Ah, what a dream! What a thought! Too good even to come true! + +I did not think that you would much like the 'Duchess May;' but among +the _profanum vulgus_ you cannot think how successful it has been. +There was an account in one of the fugitive reviews of a lady falling +into hysterics on the perusal of it, although _that_ was nothing to +the gush of tears of which there is a tradition, down the Plutonian +cheeks of a lawyer unknown, over 'Bertha in the Lane.' But these +things should not make anybody vain. It is the _story_ that has power +with people, just what _you_ do not care for! + +About the reviews you ask a difficult question; but I suppose the +best, as reviews, are the 'Dublin Review,' 'Blackwood,' the 'New +Quarterly,' and the last 'American,' I forget the title at this +moment, the _Whig_ 'American,' _not_ the Democratic. The most +favorable to me are certainly the American unremembered, and the late +'Metropolitan,' which last was written, I hear, by Mr. Charles Grant, +a voluminous writer, but no poet. I consider myself singularly +happy in my reviews, and to have full reason for gratitude to the +profession. + +I forgot to say that what the Dublin reviewer did me the honor of +considering an Irishism was the expression 'Do you mind' in 'Cyprus +Wine.' But he was wrong, because it occurs frequently among our elder +English writers, and is as British as London porter. + +Now see how you throw me into figurative liquids, by your last Cyprus. +It is the true celestial, this last. But Arabel pleased me most by +bringing back so good an account of _you_. + +Your ever affectionate and grateful +ELIBET. + +[Footnote 130: A monster bell for York Minster, then being exhibited +at the Baker Street Bazaar. Mr. Boyd was an enthusiast on bells and +bell ringing.] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +Friday [about January-March 1845]. + +Dearest Mr. Kenyon,--If your good nature is still not at ease, through +doubting about how to make Lizzy happy in a book, you will like +to hear perhaps that I have thought of a certain 'Family Robinson +Crusoe,' translated from the _German_, I think, _not_ a Robinson +_purified_, mind, but a Robinson multiplied and compounded.[131] +Children like reading it, I believe. And then there is a 'Masterman +Ready,' or some name like it, by Captain Marryat, also popular with +young readers. Or 'Seaward's Narrative,' by Miss Porter, would delight +her, as it did _me_, not so many years ago. + +I mention these books, but know nothing of their price; and only +because you asked me, I do mention them. The fact is that she is not +hard to please as to literature, and will be delighted with anything. + +To-day Mr. Poe sent me a volume containing his poems and tales +collected, so now I _must_ write and thank him for his dedication. +What is to be said, I wonder, when a man calls you the 'noblest of +your sex'? 'Sir, you are the most discerning of yours.' Were you +thanked for the garden ticket yesterday? No, everybody was ungrateful, +down to Flush, who drinks day by day out of his new purple cup, and +had it properly explained how _you_ gave it to him (_I_ explained +_that_), and yet never came upstairs to express to you his sense of +obligation. + +Affectionately yours always, +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 131: No doubt _The Swiss Family Robinson_.] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +Saturday [beginning of April 1845]. + +My dearest Cousin,--After all _I_/ said to _you_, said the other day, +about Apuleius, and about what couldn't, shouldn't, and mustn't be +done in the matter, I ended by trying the unlawful art of translating +this prose into verse, and, one after another, have done all the +subjects of the Poniatowsky gems Miss Thompson sent the list of, +except _two_, which I am doing and shall finish anon.[132] In the +meantime it comes into my head that it is just as well for you to look +over my doings, and judge whether anything in them is to the purpose, +or at all likely to be acceptable. Especially I am anxious to impress +on you that, if I could think for a moment _you would hesitate about +rejecting the whole in a body_, from any consideration for _me_, I +should not merely be vexed but pained. Am I not your own cousin, to be +ordered about as you please? And so take notice that I will not _bear_ +the remotest approach to ceremony in the matter. What is wrong? what +is right? what is too much? those are the only considerations. + +Apuleius is _florid_, which favored the poetical design on his +sentences. Indeed he is more florid than I have always liked to make +my verses. It is not, of course, an absolute translation, but as a +running commentary on the text it is sufficiently faithful. + +But probably (I say to myself) you do not want so many illustrations, +and all too from one hand? + +The two I do not send are 'Psyche contemplating Cupid asleep,' and +'Psyche and the Eagle.' + +And I wait to hear how Polyphemus is to _look_--and also Adonis. + +The Magazine goes to you with many thanks. The sonnet is full of force +and expression, and I like it as well as ever I did--better even! + +Oh--such happy news to-day! The 'Statira' is at Plymouth, and my +brothers quite well, notwithstanding their hundred days on the sea! +_It makes me happy_. + +Yours most affectionately, +BA. + +You shall have your 'Radical' almost immediately. I am ashamed. _In +such haste_. + +[Footnote 132: These versions were not published in Mrs. Browning's +lifetime, but were included in the posthumous _Last Poems_ (1862). +They now appear in the _Poetical Works_, v. 72-83.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +April 3, 1845. + +My very dear Friend,--I have been intending every day to write to tell +you that the Cyprus wine is as nectareous as possible, so fit for the +gods, in fact, that I have been forced to leave it off as unfit for +_me_; it made me so feverish. But I keep it until the sun shall have +made me a little less mortal; and in the meantime recognise thankfully +both its high qualities and _your_ kind ones. How delightful it is to +have this sense of a summer at hand. _Shall_ I see you this summer, I +wonder. That is a question among my dreams. + +By the last American packet I had two letters, one from a poet of +Massachusetts, and another from a poetess: the _he_, Mr. Lowell, and +the _she_, Mrs. Sigourney. She says that the sound of my poetry is +stirring the 'deep green forests of the New World;' which sounds +pleasantly, does it not? And I understand from Mr. Moxon that a new +edition will be called for before very long, only not immediately.... + +Your affectionate and grateful friend, +ELIBET. + +Arabel and Mr. Hunter talk of paying you a visit some day. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +April 3, 1845. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I wrote to you not many days ago, but I must +tell you that our voyagers are safe in Sandgate break in 'an ugly +hulk' (as poor Stormie says despondingly), suffering three or four +days of quarantine agony, and that we expect to see them on Monday or +Tuesday in the full bloom of their ill humour. I am happy to think, +according to the present symptoms, that the mania for sea voyages +is considerably abated. 'Nothing could be more miserable,' exclaims +Storm; 'the only comfort of the whole four months is the safety of +the beans, tell papa'--and the safety of the beans is rather a +Pythagoraean[133] equivalent for four months' vexation, though not +a bean of them all should have lost in freshness and value! He could +scarcely write, he said, for the chilblains on his hands, and was in +utter destitution of shirts and sheets. Oh! I have very good hopes +that for the future Wimpole Street may be found endurable. + +Well, and you are at once angry and satisfied, I suppose, about +Maynooth; just as I am! satisfied with the justice as far as it goes, +and angry and disgusted at the hideous shrieks of intolerance and +bigotry which run through the country. The dissenters have very nearly +disgusted me, what with the Education clamour, and the Presbyterian +chapel cry, and now this Maynooth cry; and certainly it is wonderful +how people can see rights as rights in their own hands, and as wrongs +in the hands of their opposite neighbours. Moreover it seems to me +atrocious that we who insist on seven millions of Catholics supporting +a church they call heretical, should _dare_ to talk of our scruples +(conscientious scruples forsooth!) about assisting with a poor +pittance of very insufficient charity their 'damnable idolatry.' Why, +every cry of complaint we utter is an argument against the wrong we +have been committing for years and years, and must be so interpreted +by every honest and disinterested thinker in the world. Of course I +should prefer the Irish establishment coming down, to any endowment +at all; I should prefer a trial of the voluntary system throughout +Ireland; but as it is adjudged on all hands impossible to attempt this +in the actual state of parties and countries, why this Maynooth grant +and subsequent endowment of the Catholic Church in Ireland seem the +simple alternative, obviously and on the first principles of justice. +Macaulay was very great, was he not? He appeared to me _conclusive_ in +logic and sentiment. The sensation everywhere is extraordinary, I am +sorry really to say! + +Wordsworth is in London, having been commanded up to the Queen's ball. +He went in Rogers's court dress, or did I tell you so the other day? +And I hear that the fair Majesty of England was quite 'fluttered' at +seeing him. 'She had not a word to say,' said Mrs. Jameson, who came +to see me the other day and complained of the omission as 'unqueenly;' +but I disagreed with her and thought the being '_fluttered_' far the +highest compliment. But she told me that a short time ago the Queen +confessed she never had read Wordsworth, on which a maid of honour +observed, 'That is a pity, he would do your Majesty a great deal of +good.' Mrs. Jameson declared that Miss Murray, a maid of honour, very +deeply attached to the Queen, assured her (Mrs. J.) of the answer +being quite as abrupt as _that_; as direct, and to the purpose; and +no offence intended or received. I like Mrs. Jameson better the more +I see her, and with grateful reason, she is so kind. Now do write +directly, and let me hear of you [in d]etail. And tell Mr. Martin to +make a point of coming home to us, with no grievances but political +ones. The Bazaar is to be something sublime in its degree, and I shall +have a sackcloth feeling all next week. All the rail carriages will +be wound up to radiate into it, I hear, and the whole country is to be +shot into the heart of London. + +May God bless you. + +Your ever affectionate +BA. + +I hear that Guizot suffers intensely, and that there are fears lest he +may sink. Not that the complaint is mortal. + +[Footnote 133: Referring to the Pythagorean doctrine of the sanctity +of beans.] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +Wimpole Street: April 9, 1845. + +Poor Hood! Ah! I had feared that the scene was closing on him. And I +am glad that a little of the poor gratitude of the world is laid down +at his door just now to muffle to his dying ear the harsher sounds +of life. I forgive much to Sir Robert for the sake of that +letter--though, after all, the minister is not high-hearted, or made +of heroic stuff.[134] + +I am delighted that you should appreciate Mr. Browning's high +power--very high, according to my view--very high, and various. Yes, +'Paracelsus' you _should_ have. 'Sordello' has many fine things in +it, but, having been thrown down by many hands as unintelligible, and +retained in mine as certainly of the Sphinxine literature, with all +its power, I hesitate to be imperious to you in my recommendations of +it. Still, the book _is_ worth being _studied_--study is necessary +to it, as, indeed, though in a less degree, to all the works of this +poet; study is peculiarly necessary to it. He is a true poet, and a +poet, I believe, of a large '_future in-rus, about to be_.' He is only +growing to the height he will attain. + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +April 1845. + +The sin of Sphinxine literature I admit. Have I not struggled hard to +renounce it? Do I not, day by day? Do you know that I have been +told that _I_ have written things harder to interpret than Browning +himself?--only I cannot, cannot believe it--he is so very hard. Tell +me honestly (and although I attributed the excessive good nature of +the 'Metropolitan' criticism to you, I _know_ that you can speak the +truth _truly_!) if anything like the Sphinxineness of Browning, you +discover in me; take me as far back as 'The Seraphim' volume and +answer! As for Browning, the fault is certainly great, and the +disadvantage scarcely calculable, it is so great. He cuts his language +into bits, and one has to join them together, as young children do +their dissected maps, in order to make any meaning at all, and to +study hard before one can do it. Not that I grudge the study or the +time. The depth and power of the significance (when it is apprehended) +glorifies the puzzle. With you and me it is so; but with the majority +of readers, even of readers of poetry, it is not and cannot be so. + +The consequence is, that he is not read except in a peculiar circle +very strait and narrow. He will not die, because the principle of +life is in him, but he will not live the warm summer life which is +permitted to many of very inferior faculty, because he does not come +out into the sun. + +Faithfully your friend, +E.B. BARRETT. + +[Footnote 134: Hood died on May 3, 1845; while on his deathbed he +received from Sir Robert Peel the notification that he had conferred +on him a pension of 100£ a year, with remainder to his wife.] + + +The following letter relates to the controversy raging round Miss +Martineau and her mesmerism. Miss Barrett had evidently referred to it +in a letter to Mr. Chorley, which has not been preserved. + + +_To Mr. Chorley_ +50 Wimpole Street: April 28, 1845. + +Dear Mr. Chorley,--I felt quite sure that you would take my postscript +for a womanish thing, and a little doubtful whether you would not +take the whole allusion (in or out of a postscript) for an impertinent +thing; but the impulse to speak was stronger than the fear of +speaking; and from the peculiarities of my position, I have come to +write by impulses just as other people talk by them. Still, if I had +known that the subject was so painful to you, I certainly would not +have touched on it, strong as my feeling has been about it, and full +and undeniable as is my sympathy with our noble-minded friend, both as +a woman and a thinker. Not that I consider (of course I cannot) that +she has made out anything like a '_fact_' in the Tynemouth story--not +that I think the evidence offered in any sort sufficient; take it as +it was in the beginning and unimpugned--not that I have been otherwise +than of opinion throughout that she was precipitate and indiscreet, +however generously so, in her mode and time of advocating the mesmeric +question; but that she is at liberty as a thinking being (in my mind) +to hold an opinion, the grounds of which she cannot yet justify to +the world. Do you not think she may be? Have you not opinions yourself +beyond what you can prove to others? Have we not all? And because some +of the links of the outer chain of a logical argument fail, or seem to +fail, are we therefore to have our 'honours' questioned, because we +do not yield what is suspended to an inner uninjured chain of at once +subtler and stronger formation? For what I venture to object to in the +argument of the 'Athenaeum' is the making a _moral obligation_ of an +_intellectual act_, which is the first step and gesture (is it not?) +in all persecution for opinion; and the involving of the 'honour' of +an opponent in the motion of recantation she is invited to. This I do +venture to exclaim against. I do cry aloud against this; and I do say +this, that when we call it 'hard,' we are speaking of it softly. Why, +consider how it is! The 'Athenaeum' has done quite enough to _disprove +the proving_ of the wreck story,[135] and no more at all. The +disproving of the proof of the wreck story is indeed enough to +disprove the wreck story and to disprove mesmerism itself (as far as +the proof of mesmerism depends on the proof of the wreck story, and +no farther) with all doubters and undetermined inquirers; but with the +very large class of previous _believers_, this disproof of a proof +is a mere accident, and cannot be expected to have much logical +consequence. Believing that such things may be as this revelation of +a wreck, they naturally are less exacting of the stabilities of the +proving process. What we think probable we do not call severely for +the proof of. Moreover Miss Martineau is not only a believer in the +mysteries of mesmerism (and she wrote to me the other day that in +Birmingham, where she is, she has present cognisance of _three cases +of clairvoyance_), but she is a believer in the personal integrity +of her witnesses. She has what she has well called an 'incommunicable +confidence.' And this, however incommunicable, is sufficiently +comprehensible to all persons who know what personal faith is, to +place her 'honour,' I do maintain, high above any suspicion, any +charge with the breath of man's lips. I am sure you agree with me, +dear Mr. Chorley--ah! it will be a comfort and joy together. Dear Miss +Mitford and I often quarrel softly about literary life and its toils +and sorrows, she against and I in favour of; but we never could differ +about the worth and comfort of domestic affection. + +Ever sincerely yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + +I am delighted to hear of the novel. And the comedy? + +[Footnote 135: One of the visions of Miss Martineau's 'apocalyptic +housemaid' related to the wreck of a vessel in which the Tynemouth +people were much interested. Unfortunately it appeared that news of +the wreck had reached the town shortly before her vision, and that she +had been out of doors immediately before submitting to the mesmeric +trance.] + + +_To Mr. Chorley_ +50 Wimpole Street: April 28, 1845. + +Dear Mr. Chorley,--... For Miss Martineau, is it not true that she +_has_ admitted her wreck story to have no proof? Surely she has. +Surely she said that the evidence was incapable, at this point of +time, of justification to the _exoteric_, and that the question had +sunk now to one of character, to which her opponent answered that it +had always _been_ one of character. And you must admit that the direct +and unmitigated manner of depreciating the reputation, not merely +of Jane Arrowsmith, but of Mrs. Wynyard, a personal friend of Miss +Martineau's to whom she professes great obligations, could not be +otherwise than exasperating to a woman of her generous temper, and +this just in the crisis of her gratitude for her restoration to life +and enjoyment by the means (as she considers it) of this friend. Not +that I feel at all convinced of her having been cured by mesmerism; +I have told her openly that I doubt it a little, and she is not angry +with me for saying so. Also, the wreck story, and (as you suggest) +the three new cases of clairvoyance; why, one _cannot_, you know, give +one's specific convictions to general sweeping testimonies, with a +mist all round them. Still, I do lean to believing this _class_ of +mysteries, and I see nothing more incredible in the apocalypse of +the wreck and other marvels of clairvoyance, than in that singular +adaptation of another person's senses, which is a common phenomenon +of the simple forms of mesmerism. If it is credible that a person in +a mesmeric sleep can taste the sourness of the vinegar on +another person's palate, I am ready to go the whole length of the +transmigration of senses. But after all, except from hearing so much, +I am as ignorant as you are, in my own experience. One of my sisters +was thrown into a sort of swoon, and could not open her eyelids, +though she heard what passed, once or twice or thrice; and she might +have been a prophetess by this time, perhaps, if, partly from her own +feeling on the subject, and partly from mine, she had not determined +never to try the experiment again. It is hideous and detestable to my +imagination; as I confessed to you, it makes my blood run backwards; +and if I were _you_, I would not (with the nervous weakness you speak +of) throw myself into the way of it, I really would not. Think of a +female friend of mine begging me to give her a lock of my hair, or +rather begging my sister to 'get it for her,' that she might send +it to a celebrated prophet of mesmerism in Paris, to have an oracle +concerning me. Did you ever, since the days of the witches, hear a +more ghastly proposition? It shook me so with horror, I had scarcely +voice to say 'no,' hough I _did_ say it very emphatically at last, I +assure you. A lock of my hair for a Parisian prophet? Why, if I had +yielded, I should have felt the steps of pale spirits treading as +thick as snow all over my sofa and bed, by day and night, and pulling +a corresponding lock of hair on my head at awful intervals. _I_, who +was born with a double set of nerves, which are always out of +order; the most excitable person in the world, and nearly the most +superstitious. I should have been scarcely sane at the end of a +fortnight, I believe of myself! Do you remember the little spirit in +gold shoe-buckles, who was a familiar of Heinrich Stilling's? Well, +I should have had a French one to match the German, with Balzac's +superfine boot-polish in place of the buckles, as surely as I lie here +a mortal woman. + +I congratulate you (amid all cares and anxieties) upon the view +of Naples in the distance, but chiefly on your own happy and just +estimate of your selected position in life. It does appear to me +wonderfully and mournfully wrong, when men of letters, as it is too +much the fashion for them to do, take to dishonoring their profession +by fruitless bewailings and gnashings of teeth; when, all the time, +it must be their own fault if it is not the noblest in the world. Miss +Mitford treats me as a blind witness in this case; because I have seen +nothing of the literary world, or any other sort of world, and yet cry +against her 'pen and ink' cry. It is the cry I least like to hear from +her lips, of all others; and it is unworthy of them altogether. On the +lips of a woman of letters, it sounds like jealousy (which it +cannot be with _her_), as on the lips of a woman of the world, like +ingratitude. Madame Girardin's 'Ecole des Journalistes' deserved Jules +Janin's reproof of it; and there is something noble and touching in +that feeling of brotherhood among men of letters, which he invokes. +I am so glad to hear you say that I am right, glad for your sake and +glad for mine. In fact, there is something which is attractive to +_me_, and which has been attractive ever since I was as high as this +table, even in the old worn type of Grub Street authors and garret +poets. Men and women of letters are the first in the whole world to +me, and I would rather be the least among them, than 'dwell in the +courts of princes.' + +Forgive me for writing so fast and far. Just as if you had nothing to +do but to read me. Oh, for patience for the novel. + +I am, faithfully yours, +ELIZABETH B. BARRETT. + + +_To Miss Thomson_[136] +50 Wimpole Street: Friday, May 16, 1845 [postmark]. + +I write one line to thank you, dear Miss Thomson, for _your_ +translation (so far too liberal, though true to the spirit of my +intention) of my work for your album. How could it _not_ be a pleasure +to me to work for you? + +As to my using those manuscripts otherwise than in your service, I +do not at all think of it, and I wish to say this. Perhaps I do not +(also) partake quite your 'divine fury' for converting our sex into +Greek scholarship, and I do not, I confess, think it as desirable as +you do. Where there is a love for poetry, and thirst for beauty strong +enough to justify labour, let these impulses, which are noble, be +obeyed; but in the case of the multitude it is different; and the +mere _fashion of scholarship_ among women would be a disagreeable vain +thing, and worse than vain. You, who are a Greek yourself, know that +the Greek language is not to be learnt in a flash of lightning and +by Hamiltonian systems, but that it swallows up year after year of +studious life. Now I have a 'doxy' (as Warburton called it), that +there is no exercise of the mind so little profitable to the mind +as the study of languages. It is the nearest thing to a passive +recipiency--is it not?--as a mental action, though it leaves one as +weary as ennui itself. Women want to be made to _think actively_: +their apprehension is quicker than that of men, but their defect lies +for the most part in the logical faculty and in the higher mental +activities. Well, and then, to remember how our own English poets +are neglected and scorned; our poets of the Elizabethan age! I would +rather that my countrywomen began by loving _these_. + +Not that I would blaspheme against Greek poetry, or depreciate the +knowledge of the language as an attainment. I congratulate _you_ on +it, though I never should think of trying to convert other women into +a desire for it. Forgive me. + +To think of Mr. Burges's comparing my Nonnus to the right Nonnus makes +my hair stand on end, and the truth is I had flattered myself that +nobody would take such trouble. I have not much reverence for Nonnus, +and have pulled him and pushed him and made him stand as I chose, +never fearing that my naughty impertinences would be brought to light. +For the rest, I thank you gratefully (and may I respectfully and +gratefully thank Miss Bayley?) for the kind words of both of you, both +in this letter and as my sister heard them. It is delightful to me +to find such grace in the eyes of dearest Mr. Kenyon's friends, and I +remain, dear Miss Thomson, + + +Truly yours, and gladly, +E.B.B. + +If there should be anything more at any time for me to do, I trust to +your trustfulness. + +[Footnote 136: Afterwards Mdme. Emil Braun; see the letter of +January 9, 1850. At this time she was engaged in editing an album +or anthology, to which she had asked Miss Barrett to contribute some +classical translations.] + + +_To Miss Thomson_ +50 Wimpole Street: Monday [1845]. + +My dear Miss Thomson,--Believe of me that it can only give me pleasure +when you are affectionate enough to treat me as a friend; and for +the rest, nobody need apologise for taking another into the +vineyards--least Miss Bayley and yourself to _me_. At the first +thought I felt sure that there must be a great deal about vines in +these Greeks of ours, and am surprised, I confess, in turning from one +to another, to find how few passages of length are quotable, and how +the images drop down into a line or two. Do you know the passage in +the seventh 'Odyssey' where there is a vineyard in different stages of +ripeness?--of which Pope has made the most, so I tore up what I +began to write, and leave you to him. It is in Alcinous' gardens, and +between the first and second hundred lines of the book. The one from +the 'Iliad,' open to Miss Bayley's objection, is yet too beautiful +and appropriate, I fancy, for you to throw over. Curious it is that +my first recollection went from that shield of Achilles to Hesiod's +'Shield of Hercules,' from which I send you a version--leaving out +of it what dear Miss Bayley would object to on a like ground with the +other: + + Some gathered grapes, with reap-hooks in their hands, + While others bore off from the gathering hands + Whole baskets-full of bunches, black and white, + From those great ridges heaped up into fight, + With vine-leaves and their curling tendrils. So + They bore the baskets ... + + ... Yes! and all were saying + Their jests, while each went staggering in a row + Beneath his grape-load to the piper's playing. + The grapes were purple-ripe. And here, in fine, + Men trod them out, and there they drained the wine. + +In the 'Works and Days' Hesiod says again, what is not worth your +listening to, perhaps: + + And when that Sinus and Orion come + To middle heaven, and when Aurora--she + O' the rosy fingers--looks inquiringly + Full on Arcturus, straightway gather home + The general vintage. And, I charge you, see + All, in the sun and open air, outlaid + Ten days and nights, and five days in the shade. + The sixth day, pour in vases the fine juice-- + The gift of Bacchus, who gives joys for use. + +Anacreon talks to the point so well that you must forgive him, I +think, for being Anacreontic, and take from his hands what is not +defiled. The translation you send me does not 'smell of Anacreon,' nor +please me. Where did you get it? Would this be at all fresher? + + Grapes that wear a purple skin, + Men and maidens carry in, + Brimming baskets on their shoulders, + Which they topple one by one + Down the winepress. Men are holders + Of the place there, and alone + Tread the grapes out, crush them down, + Letting loose the soul of wine-- + Praising Bacchus as divine, + With the loud songs called his own! + +You are aware of the dresser of the vine in Homer's 'Hymn to Mercury' +translated so exquisitely by Shelley, and of a very beautiful single +figure in Theocritus besides. Neither probably would suit your +purpose. In the 'Pax' of Aristophanes there is an idle 'Chorus' who +talks of looking at the vines and watching the grapes ripen, and +eating them at last, but there is nothing of vineyard work in it, so I +dismiss the whole. + +For 'Hector and Andromache,' would you like me to try to do it for +you? It would amuse me, and you should not be bound to do more with +what I send you than to throw it into the fire if it did not meet +your wishes precisely. The same observation applies, remember, to this +little sheet, which I have _kept_--delayed sending--just because I +wanted to let you have a trial of my strength on 'Andromache' in the +same envelope; but the truth is that it is not _begun_ yet, partly +through other occupation, and partly through the lassitude which the +cold wind of the last few days always brings down on me. Yesterday I +made an effort, and felt like a broken stick--not even a bent one! +So wait for a warm day (and what a season we have had! I have been +walking up and down stairs and pretending to be quite well), and I +will promise to do my best, and certainly an inferior hand may get +nearer to touch the great Greek lion's mane than Pope's did. + +Will you give my love to dear Miss Bayley? She shall hear from me--and +_you_ shall, in a day or two. And do not mind Mr. Kenyon. He 'roars as +softly as a sucking dove;' nevertheless he is an intolerant monster, +as I half told him the other day. + +Believe me, dear Miss Thomson, +Affectionately yours, +E.B.B. + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +50 Wimpole Street: May 22, 1845. + +Did you persevere with 'Sordello'? I hope so. Be sure that we may all +learn (as poets) much and deeply from it, for the writer speaks true +oracles. When you have read it through, then read for relaxation +and recompense the last 'Bell and Pomegranate' by the same poet, his +'Colombo's Birthday,' which is exquisite. Only 'Pippa Passes' I lean +to, or kneel to, with the deepest reverence. Wordsworth has been in +town, and is gone. Tennyson is still here. He likes London, I hear, +and hates Cheltenham, where he resides with his family, and he smokes +pipe after pipe, and does not mean to write any more poems. Are we to +sing a requiem? + +Believe me, faithfully yours, +ELIZABETH BARRETT BARRETT. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Saturday, July 21, 1845 [postmark]. + +My very dear Friend,--You are kind to exceeding kindness, and I am as +grateful as any of your long-ago kind invitations ever found me. It is +something pleasant, indeed, and like a return to life, to be asked by +you to spend two or three days in your house, and I thank you for this +pleasantness, and for the goodness, on your own part, which induced +it. You may be perfectly sure that no Claypon, though he should live +in Arcadia, would be preferred by me to _you_ as a host, and I wonder +how you could entertain the imagination of such a thing. Mr. Kenyon, +indeed, has asked me repeatedly to spend a few hours on a sofa in his +house, and, the Regent's Park being so much nearer than you are, I +had promised to think of it. But I have not yet found it possible to +accomplish even that quarter of a mile's preferment, and my ambition +is forced to be patient when I begin to think of St. John's Wood. I am +considerably stronger, and increasing in strength, and in time, with +a further advance of the summer, I may do 'such things--what they are +yet, I know not.' Yes, I _know_ that they relate to _you_, and that I +have a hope, as well as an earnest, affectionate desire, to sit face +to face with you once more before this summer closes. Do, in the +meantime, believe that I am very grateful to you for your kind, +considerate proposal, and that it is not made in vain for my wishes, +and that I am not likely willingly 'to spend two or three days' with +anybody in the world before I do so with yourself. + +Mr. Hunter has not paid us his usual Saturday's visit, and therefore +I have no means of answering the questions you put in relation to him. +We will ask him about 'times and seasons' when next we see him, and +you shall hear. + +Did you ever hear much of Robert Montgomery, commonly called Satan +Montgomery because the author of 'Satan,' of the 'Omnipresence of the +Deity,' and of various poems which pass through edition after +edition, nobody knows how or _why_? I understand that his pew (he is +a clergyman) is sown over with red rosebuds from ladies of the +congregation, and that the same fair hands have made and presented to +him, in the course of a single season, one hundred pairs of slippers. +Whereupon somebody said to this Reverend Satan, 'I never knew before, +Mr. Montgomery, that you were a _centipede_' + +Dearest Mr. Boyd's affectionate and grateful +ELIBET. + + +Through the summer of 1845, Miss Barrett, as usual, recovered +strength, but so slightly that her doctor urged that she should not +face the winter in England. Plans were accordingly made for her +going abroad, to which the following letters refer, but the scheme +ultimately broke down before the prohibition of Mr. Barrett--a +prohibition for which no valid reason was put forward, and which, to +say the least, bore the colour of unaccountable indifference to his +daughter's health and wishes. The matter is of some importance on +account of its bearing on the action taken by Miss Barrett in the +autumn of the following year. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Monday, July 29, 1845 [postmark]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--I am ashamed not to have written before, and +yet have courage enough to ask you to write to me as soon as you +can. Day by day I have had good intentions enough (the fact is) +about writing, to seem to deserve some good deeds from you, which +is contrary to all wisdom and reason, I know, but is rather natural, +after all. What _my_ deeds have been, you will be apt to ask. Why, all +manner of idleness, which is the most interrupting, you know, of +all things. The Hedleys have been flitting backwards and forwards, +staying, some of them, for a month at a time in London, and then +going, and then coming again; and I have had other visitors, few but +engrossing 'after their kind.' And I have been _getting well_--which +is a process--going out into the carriage two or three times a week, +abdicating my sofa for my armchair, moving from one room to another +now and then, and walking about mine quite as well as, and with +considerably more complacency than, a child of two years old. +Altogether, I do think that if you were kind enough to be glad to see +me looking better when you were in London, you would be kind enough to +be still gladder if you saw me now. Everybody praises me, and I +look in the looking-glass with a better conscience. Also, it is an +improving improvement, and will be, until, you know, the last hem of +the garment of summer is lost sight of, and then--and then--I must +either follow to another climate, or be ill again--_that_ I know, and +am prepared for. It is but dreary work, this undoing of my Penelope +web in the winter, after the doing of it through the summer, and the +more progress one makes in one's web, the more dreary the prospect of +the undoing of all these fine silken stitches. But we shall see.... + +Ever your affectionate +BA. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Tuesday [October 1845]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Do believe that I have not been, as I have +seemed, perhaps, forgetful of you through this silence. This last +proof of your interest and affection for me--in your letter to +Henrietta--quite rouses me to _speak out_ my remembrance of you, and +I have been remembering you all the time that I did not speak, only I +was so perplexed and tossed up and down by doubts and sadnesses as +to require some shock from without to force the speech from me. Your +verses, in their grace of kindness, and the ivy from Wordsworth's +cottage, just made me think to myself that I would write to you before +I left England, but when you talk really of coming to see me, why, I +must speak! You overcome me with the sense of your goodness to me. + +Yet, after all, I will not have you come! The farewells are bad enough +which come to us, without our going to seek them, and I would rather +wait and meet you on the Continent, or in England again, than see you +now, just to part from you. And you cannot guess how shaken I am, and +how I cling to every plank of a little calm. Perhaps I am going on the +17th or 20th. Certainly I have made up my mind to do it, and shall do +it as a bare matter of duty; and it is one of the most painful acts +of duty which my whole life has set before me. The road is as rough as +possible, as far as I can see it. At the same time, being absolutely +convinced from my own experience and perceptions, and the unhesitating +advice of two able medical men (Dr. Chambers, one of them), that to +escape the English winter will be _everything for me_, and that it +involves the comfort and usefulness of the rest of my life, I have +resolved to do it, let the circumstances of the doing be as painful +as they may. If you were to see me you would be astonished to see the +work of the past summer; but all these improvements will ebb away with +the sun--while I am assured of permanent good if I leave England. The +struggle with me has been a very painful one; I cannot enter on the +how and wherefore at this moment. I had expected more help than I have +found, and am left to myself, and thrown so on my own sense of duty as +to feel it right, for the sake of future years, to make an effort to +stand by myself as I best can. At the same time, I will not tell you +that at the last hour something may not happen to keep me at home. +_That_ is neither impossible nor improbable. If, for instance, I find +that I cannot have one of my brothers with me, why, the going in that +case would be out of the question. Under ordinary circumstances I +shall go, and if the experiment of going fails, why, then I shall have +had the satisfaction of having tried it, and of knowing that it is +God's will which keeps me a prisoner, and makes me a burden. As it is, +I have been told that if I had gone years ago I _should be well +now_; that one lung is very slightly affected, but the nervous system +_absolutely shattered_, as the state of the pulse proves. I am in the +habit of taking forty drops of laudanum a day, and _cannot do with +less_, that is, the medical man _told me_ that I could not do with +less, saying so with his hand on the pulse. The cold weather, they +say, acts on the lungs, and produces the weakness indirectly, whereas +the necessary shutting up acts on the _nerves_ and prevents them from +having a chance of recovering their tone. And thus, without any mortal +disease, or any disease of equivalent seriousness, I am thrown out of +life, out of the ordinary sphere of its enjoyment and activity, and +made a burden to myself and to others. Whereas there is a means of +escape from these evils, and God has opened the door of escape, as +wide as I see it! + +In all ways, for my own _happiness's sake_ I do need _a proof_ that +the evil is irremediable. And this proof (or the counter-proof) I am +about to seek in Italy. + +Dr. Chambers has advised _Pisa_, and I go in the direct steamer from +the Thames to Leghorn. I have good courage, and as far as my own +strength goes, sufficient means. + +Dearest Mrs. Martin, more than I thought at first of telling you, I +have told you. Much beside there is, painful to talk of, but I hope +I have determined to do what is right, and that the determination +has not been formed ungently, unscrupulously, nor unaffectionately in +respect to the feelings of others. I would die for some of those, but +there, has been affection opposed to affection. + +This in confidence, of course. May God bless both of you! Pray for me, +dearest Mrs. Martin. Make up your mind to go somewhere soon--shall you +not?--before the winter shuts the last window from which you see the +sun. + +Dr. Chambers said that he would 'answer for it' that the voyage would +rather do me good than harm. Let me suffer sea sickness or not, he +said, he would answer for its doing me no harm. + +I hope to take Arabel with me, and either Storm or Henry. This is my +hope. + +Gratefully and affectionately I think of all your kindness and +interest. May dear Mr. Martin lose nothing in this coming winter! I +shall think of you, and not cease to love you. Moreover, you shall +hear again from + +Your ever affectionate +BA. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +October 27, 1845 [postmark]. + +My very dear Friend,--It is so long since I wrote that I must write, I +must ruffle your thoughts with a little breath from my side. Listen +to me, my dear friend. That I have not written has scarcely been my +fault, but my misfortune rather, for I have been quite unstrung and +overcome by agitation and anxiety, and thought that I should be able +to tell you at last of being calmer and happier, but it was all in +vain. I do not leave England, my dear friend. It is decided that I +remain on in my prison. It was my full intention to go. I considered +it to be a clear duty, and I made up my mind to perform it, let the +circumstances be ever so painfully like obstacles; but when the +moment came it appeared impossible for me to set out alone, and also +impossible to take my brother and sister with me without involving +them in difficulties and displeasure. Now what I could risk for myself +I could not risk for others, and the very kindness with which they +desired me not to think of them only made me think of them more, as +was natural and just. So Italy is given up, and I fall back into the +hands of God, who is merciful, trusting Him with the time that shall +be. + +Arabel would have gone to tell you all this a fortnight since, but one +of my brothers has been ill with fever which was not exactly typhus, +but of the typhoid character, and we knew that you would rather +not see her under the circumstances. He is very much better (it is +Octavius), and has been out of bed to-day and yesterday. + +Do not reproach me either for not writing or for not going, my very +dear friend. I have been too heavy-hearted for words; and as to the +deeds, you would not have wished me to lead others into difficulties, +the extent and result of which no one could calculate. It would not +have been just of me. + +And _you_, how are you, and what are you doing? + +May God bless you, my dear dear friend! + +Ever yours I am, affectionately and gratefully, +E.B.B. + + +_To Mr. Chorley_ +50 Wimpole Street: November 1845. + +I must trouble you with another letter of thanks, dear Mr. Chorley, +now that I have to thank you for the value of the work as well as +the kindness of the gift, for I have read your three volumes of +'Pomfret'[137] with interest and moral assent, and with great pleasure +in various ways: it is a pure, true book without effort, which, in +these days of gesture and rolling of the eyes, is an uncommon thing. +Also you make your 'private judgment' work itself out quietly as a +simple part of the love of truth, instead of being the loud heroic +virtue it is so apt in real life to profess itself, seldom moving +without drums and trumpets and the flying of party colours. All these +you have put down rightly, wisely, and boldly, and it was, in my mind, +no less wise than bold of you to let in that odour of Tyrrwhitism into +the folds of the purple, and so prevent the very possibility of any +'prestige.' If I complained it might be that your 'private judgment' +confines its reference to 'public opinion,' and shuns, too proudly +perhaps, the higher and deeper relations of human responsibility. But +there are difficulties, I see, and you choose your path advisedly, of +course. The best character in the book I take to be _Rose_; I +cannot hesitate in selecting him. He is so lifelike with the world's +conventional life that you hear his footsteps when he walks, and, +indeed, I think his boots were apt to creak just the _soupçon_ of +a creak, just as a gentleman's boots might, and he is excellently +consistent, even down to the choice of a wife whom he could patronise. +I hope you like your own Mr. Rose, and that you will forgive me for +jilting Grace for Helena, which I could not help any more than Walter +could. But now, may I venture to ask a question? Would it not have +been wise of you if, on the point of _reserve_, you had thrown a +deeper shade of opposition into the characters or rather manners of +these women? Helena sits like a statue (and could Grace have done +more?) when she wins Walter's heart in Italy. Afterwards, and by fits +at the time, indeed, the artist fire bursts from her, but there was a +great deal of smouldering when there should have been a clear heat to +justify Walter's change of feeling. And then, in respect to _that_, +do you really think that your Grace was generous, heroic (with the +evidence she had of the change) in giving up her engagement? For her +own sake, could she have done otherwise? I fancy not; the position +seems surrounded by its own necessities, and no room for a doubt. +I write on my own doubts, you see, and you will smile at them, or +understand all through them that if the book had not interested me +like a piece of real life, I should not find myself _backbiting_ as if +all these were 'my neighbours.' The pure tender feeling of the closing +scenes touched me to better purpose, believe me, and I applaud from +my heart and conscience your rejection of that low creed of 'poetical +justice' which is neither justice nor poetry which is as degrading +to virtue as false to experience, and which, thrown from your book, +raises it into a pure atmosphere at once. + + +I could go on talking, but remind myself (I do hope in time) that I +might show my gratitude better. With sincere wishes for the success +of the work (for just see how practically we come to trust to poetical +justices after all our theories--_I_, I mean, and _mine_!), and with +respect and esteem for the writer, + +I remain very truly yours, +ELIZABETH BARRETT BARRETT. + +[Footnote 137: A novel by Mr. Chorley, a copy of which he had +presented to Miss Barrett.] + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +50 Wimpole Street: December 1, 1845. + +My dear Mrs. Jameson,--I receive your letter, as I must do every sign +of your being near and inclined to think of me in kindness, gladly, +and assure you at once that whenever you can spend a half-hour on me +you will find me enough myself to have a true pleasure in welcoming +you, say any day except next Saturday or the Monday immediately +following. + +As soon as I heard of your return to England I ventured to hope that +some good might come of it to me in my room here, besides the general +good, which I look for with the rest of the public, when the censer +swings back into the midst of us again. And how good of you, dear Mrs. +Jameson, to think of me there where the perfumes were set burning; it +makes me glad and grand that you should have been able to do so. Also +the kind wishes which came with the thoughts (you say) were not in +vain, for I have been very idle and very _well_; the angel of the +summer has done more for me even than usual, and till the last wave of +his wing I took myself to be quite well and at liberty, and even now +I am as well as anyone can be who has heard the prison door shut for a +whole winter at least, and knows it to be the only English alternative +of a grave. Which is a gloomy way of saying that I am well but forced +to shut myself up with disagreeable precautions all round, and I ought +to be gratified instead of gloomy. Believe me that I _shall_ be so +when you come to see me, remaining in the meanwhile + +Most truly yours, +ELIZABETH BARRETT. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Friday [about December 1845]. + +I am the guilty person, dearest Mrs. Martin! You would have heard from +Henrietta at least yesterday, only I persisted in promising to write +instead of her; and so, if there are reproaches, let them fall. Not +that I am audacious and without shame! But I have grown familiar with +an evil conscience as to these matters of not writing when I ought; +and long ago I grew familiar with your mercy and power of pardoning; +and then--and then--if silence and sulkiness are proved crimes of mine +to ever such an extreme, why it would not be unnatural. Do you think I +was born to live the life of an oyster, such as I _do_ live here? And +so, the moaning and gnashing of teeth are best done alone and without +taking anyone into confidence. And so, this is all I have to say for +myself, which perhaps you will be glad of; for you will be ready +to agree with me that next to such faults of idleness, negligence, +silence (call them by what names you please!) as I have been guilty +of, is the repentance of them, if indeed the latter be not the most +unpardonable of the two. + +And what are you doing so late in Herefordshire? Is dear Mr. Martin +too well, and tempting the demons? I do hope that the next news of you +will be of your being about to approach the sun and visit us on the +road. You do not give your wisdom away to your friends, all of it, I +hope and trust--not even to Reynolds. + +Tell Mr. Martin that a new great daily newspaper, professing +'_ultraism_' at the right end (meaning his and mine), is making +'mighty preparation,' to be called the 'Daily News,'[138] to be +edited by Dickens and to combine with the most liberal politics such +literature as gives character to the French journals--the objects +being both to help the people and to give a _status_ to men of +letters, socially and politically--great objects which will not +be attained, I fear, by any such means. In the first place, I have +misgivings as to Dickens. He has not, I think, _breadth_ of mind +enough for such work, with all his gifts; but we shall see. An immense +capital has been offered and actually advanced. Be good patriots +and order the paper. And talking of papers, I hope you read in the +'Morning Chronicle' Landor's verses to my friend and England's poet, +Mr. Browning.[139] They have much beauty. + +You know that Occy has been ill, and that he is well? I hope you are +not so behindhand in our news as not to know. For me, I am not yet +undone by the winter. I still sit in my chair and walk about the room. +But the prison doors are shut close, and I could dash myself +against them sometimes with a passionate impatience of the need-less +captivity. I feel so intimately and from evidence, how, with air and +warmth together in any fair proportion, I should be as well and happy +as the rest of the world, that it is intolerable--well, it is better +to sympathise quietly with Lady--and other energetic runaways, than +amuse you with being riotous to no end; and it is _best_ to write +one's own epitaph still more quietly, is it not?... + +And oh how lightly I write, and then sigh to think of what different +colours my spirits and my paper are. Do you know what it is to +laugh, that you may not cry? Yet I hold a comfort fast.... Your very +affectionate + +BA. + +[Footnote 138: The first number of the _Daily News_ appeared on +January 2l, 1846, under the editorship of Charles Dickens.] + +[Footnote 139: The well-known lines beginning, 'There is delight in +singing.' They appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_ for November 22, +1845.] + + + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Saturday [February-March 1846]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Indeed it has been tantalising and provoking +to have you close by without being able to gather a better advantage +from it than the knowledge that you were suffering. So passes the +world and the glory of it. I have been vexed into a high state of +morality, I assure you. Now that you are gone away I hear from you +again; and it does seem to me that almost always it happens so, and +that you come to London to be ill and leave it before you can be well +again. It is a comfort in every case to know of your being better, and +Hastings is warm and quiet, and the pretty country all round (mind you +go and see the 'Rocks' _par excellence_)! will entice you into very +gentle exercise. At the same time, don't wish me into the house you +speak of. I can lose nothing here, shut up in my prison, and the +nightingales come to my windows and sing through the sooty panes. If +I were at Hastings I should risk the chance of recovering liberty, and +the consolations of slavery would not reach me as they do here. Also, +if I were to set my heart upon Hastings, I might break it at leisure; +there would be exactly as much difficulty in turning my face that way +as towards Italy--ah, you do not understand! And _I do, at last_, I am +sorry to say; and it has been very long, tedious and reluctant work, +the learning of the lesson.... + +Did Henrietta tell you that I heard at last from Miss Martineau, who +thought me in Italy, she said, and therefore was silent? She has sent +me her new work (have you read it?) and speaks of her strength and of +being able to walk fifteen miles a day, which seems to me like a fairy +tale, or the 'Three-leagued Boots' at least. + +What am I doing, to tell you of? Nothing! The winter is kind, and +this divine 'muggy' weather (is _that_ the technical word and spelling +thereof?), which gives all reasonable people colds in their heads, +leaves _me_ the hope of getting back to the summer without much +injury. A friend of mine--one of the greatest poets in England +too--brought me primroses and polyanthuses the other day, as they are +grown in Surrey![140] Surely it must be nearer spring than we think. + +Dearest Mrs. Martin, write and say how you are. And say, God bless +you, both the yous, and mention Mr. Martin particularly, and what your +plans are. + +Ever your affectionate +BA. + +[Footnote 140: + + Beloved, them hast brought me many flowers + Plucked in the garden, all the summer through, + And winter, and it seemed as if they grew + In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers. + +_Sonnets from the Portuguese_, xliv.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Tuesday [end of June 1846]. + +So, my dearest Mrs. Martin, you are quite angry with all of us and +with me chiefly. Oh, you need not say no! I see it, I understand it, +and shall therefore take up my own cause precisely as if I were an +injured person. In the first place, dearest Mrs. Martin, when you +wrote to me (at last!) to say that we were both guilty correspondents, +you should have spoken in the singular number; for I was not guilty +at all, I beg to say, while you were on the Continent. You were +uncertain, you said, on going, where you should go and how long +you should stay, and you promised to write and give me some sort of +address--a promise never kept--and where was I to write to you? I +heard for the first time, from the Peytons, of your being at Pau, and +then you were expected at home. So innocent I am, and because it is +a pleasure rather rare to make a sincere profession of innocence, I +meant to write to you at least ten days ago; and then (believe me you +will, without difficulty) the dreadful death of poor Mr. Haydon,[141] +the artist, quite upset me, and made me disinclined to write a word +beyond necessary ones. I thank God that I never saw him--poor gifted +Haydon--but, a year and a half ago, we had a correspondence which +lasted through several months and was very pleasant while it lasted. +Then it was dropped, and only a few days before the event he wrote +three or four notes to me to ask me to take charge of some papers +and pictures, which I acceded to as once I had done before. He was +constantly in pecuniary difficulty, and in apprehension of the seizure +of goods; and nothing of _fear_ suggested itself to my mind--nothing. +The shock was very great. Oh! I do not write to you to write of this. +Only I would have you understand the real case, and that it is not an +excuse, and that it was natural for me to be shaken a good deal. No +artist is left behind with equal largeness of poetical conception! If +the hand had always obeyed the soul, he would have been a genius of +the first order. As it is, he lived on the _slope_ of greatness +and could not be steadfast and calm. His life was one long agony of +self-assertion. Poor, poor Haydon! See how the world treats those who +try too openly for its gratitude! 'Tom Thumb for ever' over the heads +of the giants. + +So you heard that I was quite well? Don't believe everything you hear. +But I am really in _a way_ to be well, if I could have such sunshine +as we have been burning in lately, and a fair field of peace besides. +Generally, I am able to go out every day, either walking or in +the carriage--'_walking_' means as far as Queen Anne's Street. The +wonderful winter did not cast me down, and the hot summer helps me up +higher. Now, to _keep in the sun_ is the problem to solve; and if +I can do it, I shall be 'as well as anybody.' If I can't, as ill as +ever. Which is the _résumé_ of me, without a word more.... + +Your ever affectionate +BA. + +[Footnote 141: He committed suicide on June 22, under the influence +of the disappointment caused by the indifference of the public to his +pictures, the final instance of which was its flocking to see General +Tom Thumb and neglecting Haydon's large pictures of 'Aristides' +and 'Nero,' which were being exhibited in an adjoining room of the +Egyptian Hall.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +June 27, 1846 [postmark]. + +Dearest Mr. Boyd,--Let me be clear of your reproaches for not going +to you this week. The truth is that I have been so much shocked and +shaken by the dreadful suicide of poor Mr. Haydon, the artist, I had +not spirits for it. He was not personally my friend. I never saw him +face to face. But we had corresponded, and one of his last acts was an +act of _trust_ towards me. Also I admired his genius. And all to end +_so_! It has naturally affected me much. + +So I could not come, but in a few days I _will_ come; and in the +meantime, I have had the sound of your voice to think of, more than +I could think of the deep melodious bells, though they made the right +and solemn impression. How I felt, to be under your roof again! + + May God bless you, my very dear friend. + These words in the greatest haste. + +From your ever affectionate +ELIBET + + + + +CHAPTER V + +1846-1849 + + +It is now time to tell the story of the romance which, during the last +eighteen months, had entered into Elizabeth Barrett's life, and was +destined to divert its course into new and happier channels. It is +a story which fills one of the brightest pages in English literary +history. + +The foregoing letters have shown something of Miss Barrett's +admiration for the poetry of Robert Browning, and contain allusions +to the beginning of their personal acquaintance. Her knowledge of his +poetry dates back to the appearance of 'Paracelsus,' not to 'Pauline,' +of which there is no mention in her letters, and which had been +practically withdrawn from circulation by the author. Her personal +acquaintance with him was of much later date, and was directly due +to the publication of the 'Poems' in 1844. Chancing to express his +admiration of them to Mr. Kenyon, who had been his friend since 1839 +and his father's school-fellow in years long distant, Mr. Browning +was urged by him to write to Miss Barrett himself, and tell her of +his pleasure in her work. Possibly the allusion to him in 'Lady +Geraldine's Courtship' may have been felt as furnishing an excuse for +addressing her; however that may be, he took Mr. Kenyon's advice, +and in January 1845 we find Miss Barrett in 'ecstasies' over a letter +(evidently the first) from 'Browning the poet, Browning the author of +"Paracelsus" and king of the mystics' (see p. 236, above). + +The correspondence, once begun, continued to flourish, and in the +course of the same month Miss Barrett tells Mrs. Martin that she is +'getting deeper and deeper into correspondence with Robert Browning, +poet and mystic; and we are growing to be the truest of friends.' At +the end of May, when the return of summer brought her a renewal of +strength, they met face to face for the first time; and from that time +Robert Browning was included in the small list of privileged friends +who were admitted to visit her in person. + +How this friendship ripened into love, and love into courtship, it is +not for us to inquire too closely. Something has been told already in +Mrs. Orr's 'Life of Robert Browning;' something more is told in the +long and most interesting letter which stands first in the present +chapter. More precious than either is the record of her fluctuating +feelings which Mrs. Browning has enshrined for ever in her 'Sonnets +from the Portuguese,' and in the handful of other poems--'Life +and Love,' 'A Denial,' 'Proof and Disproof,' 'Inclusions,' +'Insufficiency,'[142] which likewise belong to this period and +describe its hesitations, its sorrows and its overwhelming joys. In +the difficult circumstances under which they were placed, the conduct +of both was without reproach. Mr. Browning knew that he was asking to +be allowed to take charge of an invalid's life--believed indeed +that she was even worse than was really the case, and that she was +hopelessly incapacitated from ever standing on her feet--but was sure +enough of his love to regard that as no obstacle. Miss Barrett, for +her part, shrank from burdening the life of the man she loved with +a responsibility so trying and perhaps so painful, and refused his +unchanging devotion for his sake, not for her own. + +[Footnote 142: _Poetical Works_, iv. 20-32.] + +The situation was complicated by the character of Mr. Barrett, and by +the certainty--for such it was to his daughter--that he would refuse +to entertain the idea of her marriage, or, indeed, that of any of his +children. The truth of this view was absolutely vindicated not only in +the case of Elizabeth, but also in those of two others of the family +in later years. The reasons for his feeling it is probable he could +not have explained to himself. He was fond of his family after his own +fashion--proud, too, of his daughter's genius; but he could not, +it would seem, regard them in any other light than as belonging to +himself. The wish to leave his roof and to enter into new relations +was looked upon as unfilial treachery; and no argument or persuasion +could shake him from his fixed idea. So long as this disposition could +be regarded as the result of a devoted love of his children, it +could be accepted with respect, if not with full acquiescence; but +circumstances brought the proof that this was not the case, and +thereby ultimately paved the way to Elizabeth's marriage. + +These circumstances are stated in several of her letters, and alluded +to in several others, but it may help to the understanding of them +if a brief summary be given here. In the autumn of 1845, as described +above, Miss Barrett's doctors advised her to winter abroad. The +advice was strongly pressed, as offering a good prospect of a real +improvement of health, and as the only way of avoiding the annual +relapse brought on by the English winter. One or more of her brothers +could have gone with her, and she was willing and able to try the +experiment; but in face of this express medical testimony, Mr. Barrett +interposed a refusal. This indifference to her health naturally +wounded Miss Barrett very deeply; but it also gave her the right of +taking her fate into her own hands. Convinced at last that no refusal +on her part could alter Mr. Browning's devotion to her, and that +marriage with him, so far from being an increase of risk to her +health, offered the only means by which she might hope for an +improvement in it, she gave him the conditional promise that if she +came safely through the then impending winter, she would consent to a +definite engagement. + +The winter of 1845-6 was an exceptionally mild one, and she suffered +less than usual; and in the spring of 1846 her lover claimed her +promise. Throughout the summer she continued to gain strength, being +able, not only to drive out, but even to walk short distances, and to +visit a few of her special friends such as Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Boyd. +Accordingly it was agreed that at the end of the summer they should +be married, and leave England for Italy before the cold weather should +return. The uselessness of asking her father's consent was so evident, +and the certainty that it would only result in the exclusion of Mr. +Browning from the house so clear, that no attempt was made to obtain +it. Only her two sisters were aware of what was going on; but even +they were not informed of the final arrangements for the marriage, in +order that they might not be involved in their father's anger when it +should become known. For the same reason the secret was kept from so +close a friend of both parties as Mr. Kenyon; though both he and Mr. +Boyd, and possibly also Mrs. Jameson, had suspicions amounting to +different degrees of certainty as to the real state of affairs. It had +been intended that they should wait until the end of September, but +a project for a temporary removal of the family into the country +precipitated matters; and on September 12, accompanied only by her +maid, Wilson, Miss Barrett slipped from the house and was married to +Robert Browning in Marylebone Church.[143] The associations which that +ponderous edifice has gained from this act for all lovers of English +poetry tempt one to forgive its unromantic appearance, and to remember +rather the pilgrimages which Robert Browning on his subsequent visits +to England never failed to pay to its threshold. + +[Footnote 143: Mrs. Sutherland Orr says that the marriage took place +in St. Pancras Church; but this is a mistake, as the parish register +of St. Marylebone proves.] + +For a week after the marriage Mrs. Browning--by which more familiar +name we now have the right to call her--remained in her father's +house; her husband refraining from seeing her, since he could not now +ask for her by her proper name without betraying their secret. +Then, on September 19, accompanied once more by her maid and the +ever-beloved Flushie, she left her home, to which she was never +to return, crossed the Channel with her husband to Havre, and so +travelled on to Paris. Her father's anger, if not loud, was deep and +unforgiving. From that moment he cast her off and disowned her. He +would not read or open her letters; he would not see her when she +returned to England. Even the birth of her child brought no relenting; +he expressed no sympathy or anxiety, he would not look upon its face. +He died as he lived, unrelenting, cut off by his own unbending anger +from a daughter who could with difficulty bring herself to speak a +harsh word of him, even to her most intimate friends. + +It was a more unexpected and consequently an even more bitter blow to +find that her brothers at first disapproved of her action; the +more so, since they had sympathised with her in the struggle of the +previous autumn. This disapprobation was, however, less deep-seated, +resting partly upon doubts as to the practical prudence of the match, +partly, no doubt, upon a natural annoyance at having been kept in the +dark. Such an estrangement could only be temporary, and as time went +on was replaced by a full renewal of the old affection towards herself +and a friendly acceptance of her husband. With her sisters, on the +other hand, there was never a shadow of difference or estrangement. +That love remained unaffected; and almost the only circumstance that +caused Mrs. Browning to regret her enforced absence from England was +the separation which it entailed from her two sisters. + +In Paris the fugitives found a friend who proved a friend indeed. A +few weeks earlier Mrs. Jameson, knowing of the needs of Miss Barrett's +health, had offered to take her to Italy; but her offer had been +refused. Her astonishment may be imagined when, after this short +interval of time, she found her invalid friend in Paris as the wife of +Robert Browning. The prospect filled her with almost as much dismay as +pleasure. 'I have here,' she wrote to a friend from Paris, 'a poet +and a poetess--two celebrities who have run away and married under +circumstances peculiarly interesting, and such as to render imprudence +the height of prudence. Both excellent; but God help them! for I know +not how the two poet heads and poet hearts will get on through this +prosaic world.'[144] Mrs. Jameson, who was travelling with her young +niece, Miss Geraldine Bate,[145] lent her aid to smooth the path of +her poet friends, and it was in her company that, after a week's rest +in Paris, the Brownings proceeded on their journey to Italy. It is +easy to imagine what a comfort her presence must have been to the +invalid wife and her naturally anxious husband; and this journey +sealed a friendship of no ordinary depth and warmth. Mrs. Browning +bore the journey wonderfully, though suffering much from fatigue. +During a rest of two days at Avignon, a pilgrimage was made to +Vaucluse, in honour of Petrarch and his Laura; and there, as Mrs. +Macpherson has recorded in an often quoted passage of her biography of +her aunt, 'there, at the very source of the "chiare, fresche e dolci +acque," Mr. Browning took his wife up in his arms, and carrying her +across the shallow, curling water, seated her on a rock that rose +throne-like in the middle of the stream. Thus love and poetry took +a new possession of the spot immortalised by Petrarch's loving +fancy.'[146] + +[Footnote 144: _Memoirs of Anna Jameson_, by G. Macpherson, p. 218.] + +[Footnote 145: Afterwards Mrs. Macpherson, and Mrs. Jameson's +biographer.] + +[Footnote 146: _Memoirs_, p. 231.] + +So at the beginning of October the party reached Pisa; and there +the newly wedded pair settled for the winter. Here first since the +departure from London was there leisure to renew the intercourse with +friends at home, to answer congratulations and good wishes, to explain +what might seem strange and unaccountable. From this point Mrs. +Browning's correspondence contains nearly a full record of her life, +and can be left to tell its own story in better language than the +biographer's. The first letter to Mrs. Martin is an 'apologia pro +connubio suo' in fullest detail; the others carry on the story from +the point at which that leaves it. + +With regard to this first letter, full as it is of the most intimate +personal and family revelations, it has seemed right to give it +entire. The marriage of Robert and Elizabeth Browning has passed into +literary history, and it is only fair that it should be set, once for +all, in its true light. Those who might be pained by any expressions +in it have passed away; and those in whose character and reputation +the lovers of English literature are interested have nothing to fear +from the fullest revelation. If anything were kept back, false and +injurious surmises might be formed; the truth leaves little room for +controversy, and none for slander. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Collegio Ferdinando, Pisa; October 20(?), 1846.[147] + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Will you believe that I began a letter to you +before I took this step, to give you the whole story of the impulses +towards it, feeling strongly that I owed what I considered my +justification to such dear friends as yourself and Mr. Martin, that +you might not hastily conclude that you had thrown away upon one +who was quite unworthy the regard of years? I had begun such a +letter--when, by the plan of going to Little Bookham, my plans were +all hurried forward--changed--driven prematurely into action, and the +last hours of agitation and deep anguish--for it was the deepest +of its kind, to leave Wimpole Street and those whom I tenderly +loved--_so_ would not admit of my writing or thinking: only I was able +to think that my beloved sisters would send you some account of me +when I was gone. And now I hear from them that your generosity has not +waited for a letter from me to do its best for me, and that instead +of being vexed, as you might well be, at my leaving England without +a word sent to you, you have used kind offices in my behalf, you +have been more than the generous and affectionate friend I always +considered you. So my first words must be that I am deeply grateful +to you, my very dear friend, and that to the last moment of my life I +shall remember the claim you have on my gratitude. Generous people are +inclined to acquit generously; but it has been very painful to me to +observe that with all my mere friends I have found more sympathy and +_trust_, than in those who are of my own household and who have +been daily witnesses of my life. I do not say this for papa, who is +peculiar and in a peculiar position; but it pained me that----, who +_knew_ all that passed last year--for instance, about Pisa--who knew +that the alternative of making a single effort to secure my health +during the winter was the severe displeasure I have incurred now, and +that the fruit of yielding myself a prisoner was the sense of being of +no use nor comfort to any soul; papa having given up coming to see +me except for five minutes, a day; ==--, who said to me with his own +lips, 'He does not love you--do not think it' (said and repeated it +two months ago)--that ---- should now turn round and reproach me for +want of affection towards my family, for not letting myself drop +like a dead weight into the abyss, a sacrifice without an object and +expiation--this did surprise me and pain me--pained me more than all +papa's dreadful words. But the personal feeling is nearer with most of +us than the tenderest feeling for another; and my family had been so +accustomed to the idea of my living on and on in that room, that while +my heart was eating itself, their love for me was consoled, and at +last the evil grew scarcely perceptible. It was no want of love in +them, and quite natural in itself: we all get used to the thought of a +tomb; and I was buried, that was the whole. It was a little thing even +for myself a short time ago, and really it would be a pneumatological +curiosity if I could describe and let you see how perfectly for years +together, after what broke my heart at Torquay, I lived on the outside +of my own life, blindly and darkly from day to day, as completely dead +to hope of any kind as if I had my face against a grave, never feeling +a personal instinct, taking trains of thought to carry out as an +occupation absolutely indifferent to the _me_ which is in every human +being. Nobody quite understood this of me, because I am not morally +a coward, and have a hatred of all the forms of audible groaning. But +God knows what is within, and how utterly I had abdicated myself and +thought it not worth while to put out my finger to touch my share of +life. Even my poetry, which suddenly grew an interest, was a thing on +the outside of me, a thing to be done, and then done! What people said +of it did not touch _me_. A thoroughly morbid and desolate state it +was, which I look back now to with the sort of horror with which one +would look to one's graveclothes, if one had been clothed in them by +mistake during a trance. + +[Footnote 147: The date at the head of the letter is October 2, +but that is certainly a slip of the pen, since at that date, as the +following letter to Miss Mitford shows, they had not reached Pisa. +See also the reference to 'six weeks of marriage' on p. 295. The Pisa +postmark appears to be October 20 (or later), and the English postmark +is November 5.] + +And now I will tell you. It is nearly two years ago since I have known +Mr. Browning. Mr. Kenyon wished to bring him to see me five years ago, +as one of the lions of London who roared the gentlest and was best +worth my knowing; but I refused then, in my blind dislike to seeing +strangers. Immediately, however, after the publication of my last +volumes, he wrote to me, and we had a correspondence which ended in my +agreeing to receive him as I never had received any other man. I +did not know why, but it was utterly impossible for me to refuse to +receive him, though I consented against my will. He writes the most +exquisite letters possible, and has a way of putting things which I +have not, a way of putting aside--so he came. He came, and with +our personal acquaintance began his attachment for me, a sort of +_infatuation_ call it, which resisted the various denials which were +my plain duty at the beginning, and has persisted past them all. I +began with--a grave assurance that I was in an exceptional position +and saw him just in consequence of it, and that if ever he recurred to +that subject again I never could see him again while I lived; and +he believed me and was silent. To my mind, indeed, it was a bare +impulse--a generous man of quick sympathies taking up a sudden +interest with both hands! So I thought; but in the meantime the +letters and the visits rained down more and more, and in every one +there was something which was too slight to analyse and notice, but +too decided not to be understood; so that at last, when the 'proposed +respect' of the silence gave way, it was rather less dangerous. +So then I showed him how he was throwing into the ashes his best +affections--how the common gifts of youth and cheerfulness were behind +me--how I had not strength, even of _heart_, for the ordinary duties +of life--everything I told him and showed him. 'Look at this--and +this,' throwing down all my disadvantages. To which he did not answer +by a single compliment, but simply that he had not then to choose, +and that I might be right or he might be right, he was not there to +decide; but that he loved me and should to his last hour. He said +that the freshness of youth had passed with him also, and that he +had studied the world out of books and seen many women, yet had never +loved one until he had seen me. That he knew himself, and knew that, +if ever so repulsed, he should love me to his last hour--it should be +first and last. At the same time, he would not tease me, he would wait +twenty years if I pleased, and then, if life lasted so long for both +of us, then when it was ending perhaps, I might understand him and +feel that I might have trusted him. For my health, he had believed +when he first spoke that I was suffering from an incurable injury of +the spine, and that he never could hope to see me stand up before his +face, and he appealed to my womanly sense of what a pure attachment +should be--whether such a circumstance, if it had been true, was +inconsistent with it. He preferred, he said, of free and deliberate +choice, to be allowed to sit only an hour a day by my side, to the +fulfilment of the brightest dream which should exclude me, in any +possible world. + +I tell you so much, my ever dear friend, that you may see the manner +of man I have had to do with, and the sort of attachment which for +nearly two years has been drawing and winning me. I know better than +any in the world, indeed, what Mr. Kenyon once unconsciously said +before me--that 'Robert Browning is great in everything.' Then, when +you think how this element of an affection so pure and persistent, +cast into my dreary life, must have acted on it--how little by little +I was drawn into the persuasion that something was left, and that +still I could do something to the happiness of another--and he what he +was, for I have deprived myself of the privilege of praising him--then +it seemed worth while to take up with that unusual energy (for me!), +expended in vain last year, the advice of the physicians that I should +go to a warm climate for the winter. Then came the Pisa conflict +of last year. For years I had looked with a sort of indifferent +expectation towards Italy, knowing and feeling that I should escape +there the annual relapse, yet, with that _laisser aller_ manner which +had become a habit to me, unable to form a definite wish about it. But +last year, when all this happened to me, and I was better than +usual in the summer, I _wished_ to make the experiment--to live the +experiment out, and see whether there was hope for me or not hope. +Then came Dr. Chambers, with his encouraging opinion. 'I wanted simply +a warm climate and _air_,' he said; 'I might be well if I pleased.' +Followed what you know--or do not precisely know--the pain of it was +acutely felt by me; for I never had doubted but that papa would catch +at any human chance of restoring my health. I was under the delusion +always that the difficulty of making such trials lay in _me_, and not +in _him_. His manner of acting towards me last summer was one of the +most painful griefs of my life, because it involved a disappointment +in the affections. My dear father is a very peculiar person. He is +naturally stern, and has exaggerated notions of authority, but these +things go with high and noble qualities; and as for feeling, the water +is under the rock, and I had faith. Yes, and have it. I admire such +qualities as he has--fortitude, integrity. I loved him for his courage +in adverse circumstances which were yet felt by him more literally +than I could feel them. Always he has had the greatest power over my +heart, because I am of those weak women who reverence strong men. By a +word he might have bound me to him hand and foot. Never has he spoken +a gentle word to me or looked a kind look which has not made in me +large results of gratitude, and throughout my illness the sound of his +step on the stairs has had the power of quickening my pulse--I have +loved him so and love him. Now if he had said last summer that he was +reluctant for me to leave him--if he had even allowed me to think +_by mistake_ that his affection for me was the motive of such +reluctance--I was ready to give up Pisa in a moment, and I told him +as much. Whatever my new impulses towards life were, my love for him +(taken so) would have resisted all--I loved him so dearly. But his +course was otherwise, quite otherwise, and I was wounded to the +bottom of my heart--cast off when I was ready to cling to him. In the +meanwhile, at my side was another; I was driven and I was drawn. Then +at last I said, 'If you like to let this winter decide it, you may. I +will allow of no promises nor engagement. I cannot go to Italy, and I +know, as nearly as a human creature can know any fact, that I shall be +ill again through the influence of this English winter. If I am, you +will see plainer the foolishness of this persistence; if I am not, I +will do what you please.' And his answer was, 'If you are ill and keep +your resolution of not marrying me under those circumstances, I will +keep mine and love you till God shall take us both.' This was in last +autumn, and the winter came with its miraculous mildness, as you know, +and I was saved as I dared not hope; my word therefore was claimed +in the spring. Now do you understand, and will you feel for me? An +application to my father was certainly the obvious course, if it had +not been for his peculiar nature and my peculiar position. But there +is no speculation in the case; it is a matter of _knowledge_ that if +Robert had applied to him in the first instance he would have been +forbidden the house without a moment's scruple; and if in the last (as +my sisters thought best as a respectable _form_), I should have been +incapacitated from any after-exertion by the horrible scenes to which, +as a thing of course, I should have been exposed. Papa will not bear +some subjects, it is a thing _known_; his peculiarity takes that +ground to the largest. Not one of his children will ever marry without +a breach, which we all know, though he probably does not--deceiving +himself in a setting up of _obstacles_, whereas the real obstacle is +in his own mind. In my case there was, or would have been, a great +deal of apparent reason to hold by; my health would have been motive +enough--ostensible motive. I see that precisely as others may see +it. Indeed, if I were charged now with want of generosity for casting +myself so, a dead burden, on the man I love, nothing of the sort could +surprise me. It was what occurred to myself, that thought was, and +what occasioned a long struggle and months of agitation, and which +nothing could have overcome but the very uncommon affection of a very +uncommon person, reasoning out to me the great fact of love making its +own level. As to vanity and selfishness blinding me, certainly I +may have made a mistake, and the future may prove it, but still more +certainly I was not blinded _so_. On the contrary, never have I been +more humbled, and never less in danger of considering any personal +pitiful advantage, than throughout this affair. You, who are generous +and a woman, will believe this of me, even if you do not comprehend +the _habit_ I had fallen into of casting aside the consideration of +possible happiness of my own. But I was speaking of papa. Obvious it +was that the application to him was a mere form. I knew the result of +it. I had made up my mind to act upon my full right of taking my own +way. I had long believed such an act (the most strictly personal act +of one's life) to be within the rights of every person of mature age, +man or woman, and I had resolved to exercise that right in my own case +by a resolution which had slowly ripened. All the other doors of life +were shut to me, and shut me in as in a prison, and only before +this door stood one whom I loved best and who loved me best, and who +invited me out through it for the good's sake which he thought I +could do him. Now if for the sake of the mere form I had applied to +my father, and if, as he would have done directly, he had set up his +'curse' against the step I proposed to take, would it have been doing +otherwise than placing a knife in his hand? A few years ago, merely +through the reverberation of what he said to another on a subject like +this, I fell on the floor in a fainting fit, and was almost delirious +afterwards. I cannot bear some words. I would much rather have blows +without them. In my actual state of nerves and physical weakness, it +would have been the sacrifice of my whole life--of my convictions, +of my affections, and, above all, of what the person dearest to me +persisted in calling _his_ life, and the good of it--if I had observed +that 'form.' Therefore, wrong or right, I determined not to observe +it, and, wrong or right, I did and do consider that in not doing so I +sinned against no duty. That I was _constrained_ to act clandestinely, +and did not _choose_ to do so, God is witness, and will set it down as +my heavy misfortune and not my fault. Also, up to the very last act we +stood in the light of day for the whole world, if it pleased, to judge +us. I never saw him out of the Wimpole Street house; he came twice a +week to see me--or rather, three times in the fortnight, openly in +the sight of all, and this for nearly two years, and neither more +nor less. Some jests used to be passed upon us by my brothers, and I +allowed them without a word, but it would have been infamous in me to +have taken any into my confidence who would have suffered, as a direct +consequence, a blighting of his own prospects. My secrecy towards them +all was my simple duty towards them all, and what they call want of +affection was an affectionate consideration for them. My sisters did +indeed know the truth to a certain point. They knew of the attachment +and engagement--I could not help that--but the whole of the event I +kept from them with a strength and resolution which really I did not +know to be in me, and of which nothing but a sense of the injury to +be done to them by a fuller confidence, and my tender gratitude +and attachment to them for all their love and goodness, could have +rendered me capable. Their faith in me, and undeviating affection for +me, I shall be grateful for to the end of my existence, and to +the extent of my power of feeling gratitude. My dearest +sisters!--especially, let me say, my own beloved Arabel, who, with +no consolation except the exercise of a most generous tenderness, has +looked only to what she considered my good--never doubting me, never +swerving for one instant in her love for me. May God reward her as I +cannot. Dearest Henrietta loves me too, but loses less in me, and has +reasons for not misjudging me. But both my sisters have been faultless +in their bearing towards me, and never did I love them so tenderly as +I love them now. + +The only time I met R.B. clandestinely was in the parish church, where +we were married before two witnesses--it was the first and only time. +I looked, he says, more dead than alive, and can well believe it, for +I all but fainted on the way, and had to stop for sal volatile at a +chemist's shop. The support through it all was _my trust in him_, +for no woman who ever committed a like act of trust has had stronger +motives to hold by. Now may I not tell you that his genius, and all +but miraculous attainments, are the least things in him, the moral +nature being of the very noblest, as all who ever knew him admit? Then +he has had that wide experience of men which ends by throwing the mind +back on itself and God; there is nothing incomplete in him, except +as all humanity is incompleteness. The only wonder is how such a man, +whom any woman could have loved, should have loved _me_; but men of +genius, you know, are apt to love with their imagination. Then there +is something in the sympathy, the strange, straight sympathy which +unites us on all subjects. If it were not that I look up to him, we +should be too alike to be together perhaps, but I know my place better +than he does, who is too humble. Oh, you cannot think how well we +get on after six weeks of marriage. If I suffer again it will not be +through _him_. Some day, dearest Mrs. Martin, I will show you and dear +Mr. Martin how his _prophecy was fulfilled_, saving some picturesque +particulars. I did not know before that Saul was among the prophets. + +My poor husband suffered very much from the constraint imposed on him +by my position, and did, for the first time in his life, for my sake +do that in secret which he could not speak upon the housetops. _Mea +culpa_ all of it! If one of us two is to be blamed, it is I, at whose +representation of circumstances he submitted to do violence to his +own self-respect. I would not suffer him to tell even our dear common +friend Mr. Kenyon. I felt that it would be throwing on dear Mr. Kenyon +a painful responsibility, and involve him in the blame ready to fall. +And dear dear Mr. Kenyon, like the noble, generous friend I love so +deservedly, comprehends all at a word, sends us _not_ his forgiveness, +but his sympathy, his affection, the kindest words which can be +written! I cannot tell you all his inexpressible kindness to us both. +He justifies us to the uttermost, and, in that, all the grateful +attachment we had, each on our side, so long professed towards him. +Indeed, in a note I had from him yesterday, he uses this strong +expression after gladly speaking of our successful journey: 'I +considered that you had _perilled your life_ upon this undertaking, +and, reflecting upon your last position, I thought that _you had done +well_.' But my life was not perilled in the journey. The agitation and +fatigue were evils, to be sure, and Mrs. Jameson, who met us in Paris +by a happy accident, thought me 'looking horribly ill' at first, and +persuaded us to rest there for a week on the promise of accompanying +us herself to Pisa to help Robert to take care of me. He, who was in +a fit of terror about me, agreed at once, and so she came with us, she +and her young niece, and her kindness leaves us both very grateful. So +kind she was, and is--for still she is in Pisa--opening her arms to +us and calling us 'children of light' instead of ugly names, and +declaring that she should have been 'proud' to have had anything to +do with our marriage. Indeed, we hear every day kind speeches and +messages from people such as Mr. Chorley of the 'Athenaeum,' who 'has +tears in his eyes,' Monckton Milnes, Barry Cornwall, and other friends +of my husband's, but who only know _me_ by my books, and I want the +love and sympathy of those who love me and whom I love. I was talking +of the influence of the journey. The change of air has done me +wonderful good notwithstanding the fatigue, and I am renewed to the +point of being able to throw off most of my invalid habits; and of +walking quite like a woman. Mrs. Jameson said the other day, 'You are +not _improved_, you are _transformed_.' We have most comfortable rooms +here at Pisa and have taken them for six months, in the best situation +for health, and close to the Duomo and Leaning Tower. It is a +beautiful, solemn city, and we have made acquaintance with Professor +Ferucci, who is about to admit us to [a sight][148] of the [University +Lib]rary. We shall certainly [spend] next summer in Italy _somewhere_, +and [talk] of Rome for the next winter, but, of course, this is all in +air. Let me hear + +from you, dearest Mrs. Martin, and direct, 'M. Browning, Poste +Restante, Pisa'--it is best. Just before we left Paris I wrote to my +aunt Jane, and from Marseilles to Bummy, but from neither have I heard +yet. + +With best love to dearest Mr. Martin, ever both my dear kind friends, + +Your affectionate and grateful +BA. + +[Footnote 148: The original is torn here.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_[149] +Moulins: October 2, 1846. + +I began to write to you, my beloved friend, earlier, that I might +follow your kindest wishes literally, and also to thank you at once +for your goodness to me, for which may God bless you. But the fatigue +and agitation have been very great, and I was forced to break off--as +now I dare not revert to what is behind. I will tell you more another +day. At Orleans, with your kindest letter, I had one from my dearest, +gracious friend Mr. Kenyon, who, in his goodness, does more than +exculpate--even _approves_--he wrote a joint letter to both of us. +But oh, the anguish I have gone through! You are good, you are kind. I +thank you from the bottom of my heart for saying to me that you would +have gone to the church with me. _Yes, I know you would_. And for +that very reason I forbore involving you in such a responsibility and +drawing you into such a net. I took Wilson with me. I had courage to +keep the secret to my sisters for their sakes, though I will tell you +in strict confidence that it was known to them _potentially_, that +is, the attachment and engagement were known, the necessity remaining +that, for stringent reasons affecting their own tranquillity, they +should be able to say at last, 'We were not instructed in this and +this.' The dearest, fondest, most affectionate of sisters they are to +me, and if the sacrifice of a life, or of all prospect of happiness, +would have worked any lasting good to them, it should have been made +even in the hour I left them. I knew _that_ by the anguish I suffered +in it. But a sacrifice, without good to anyone--I shrank from it. And +also, it was the sacrifice of _two_. And _he_, as you say, had done +everything for me, had loved me for reasons which had helped to weary +me of myself, loved me heart to heart persistently--in spite of my own +will--drawn me back to life and hope again when I had done with both. +My life seemed to belong to him and to none other at last, and I had +no power to speak a word. Have faith in me, my dearest friend, till +you can know him. The intellect is so little in comparison to all the +rest, to the womanly tenderness, the inexhaustible goodness, the high +and noble aspiration of every hour. Temper, spirits, manners: there is +not a flaw anywhere. I shut my eyes sometimes and fancy it all a dream +of my guardian angel. Only, if it had been a dream, the pain of some +parts of it would have awakened me before now; it is not a dream. I +have borne all the emotion of fatigue miraculously well, though, of +course, a good deal exhausted at times. We had intended to hurry on +to the South at once, but at Paris we met Mrs. Jameson, who opened her +arms to us with the most literal affectionateness, _kissed us both_, +and took us by surprise by calling us 'wise people, wild poets or +not.' Moreover, she fixed us in an apartment above her own in the +Hôtel de la Ville de Paris, that I might rest for a week, and crowned +the rest of her goodnesses by agreeing to accompany us to Pisa, where +she was about to travel with her young niece. Therefore we are five +travelling, Wilson being with me. Oh, yes, Wilson came; her attachment +to me never shrank for a moment. And Flush came and I assure you that +nearly as much attention has been paid to Flush as to me from the +beginning, so that he is perfectly reconciled, and would be happy +if the people at the railroads were not barbarians, and immovable in +their evil designs of shutting him up in a box when we travel that +way. + +You understand now, ever dearest Miss Mitford, how the pause has +come about writing. The week at Paris! Such a strange week it was, +altogether like a vision. Whether in the body or out of the body I +cannot tell scarcely. Our Balzac should be flattered beyond measure +by my thinking of him at all. Which I did, but of _you_ more. I will +write and tell you more about Paris. You should go there indeed. And +to our hotel, if at all. Once we were at the Louvre, but we kept very +still of course, and were satisfied with the _idea_ of Paris. I +could have borne to live on there, it was all so strange and full of +contrast.... + +Now you will write--I feel my way on the paper to write this. +Nothing is changed between us, nothing can ever interfere with sacred +confidences, remember. I do not show letters, you need not fear my +turning traitress.... Pray for me, dearest friend, that the bitterness +of old affections may not be too bitter with me, and that God may turn +those salt waters sweet again. + +Pray for your grateful and loving +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 149: This letter is of earlier date than the last, having +been written _en route_ between Orleans and Lyons; but it has seemed +better to place the more detailed narrative first.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +[Pisa:] November 5, [1846]. + +It was pleasant to me, my dearest friend, to think while I was reading +your letter yesterday, that almost by that time you had received mine, +and could not even seem to doubt a moment longer whether I admitted +your claim of hearing and of speaking to the uttermost. I recognised +you too entirely as my friend. Because you had put faith in me, so +much the more reason there was that I should justify it as far as I +could, and with as much frankness (which was a part of my gratitude to +you) as was possible from a woman to a woman. Always I have felt that +you have believed in me and loved me; and, for the sake of the past +and of the present, your affection and your esteem are more to me than +I could afford to lose, even in these changed and happy circumstances. +So I thank you once more, my dear kind friends, I thank you both--I +never shall forget your goodness. I feel it, of course, the more +deeply, in proportion to the painful disappointment in other +quarters.... Am I, bitter? The feeling, however, passes while I write +it out, and my own affection for everybody will wait patiently to +be 'forgiven' in the proper form, when everybody shall be at leisure +properly. Assuredly, in the meanwhile, however, my case is not to be +classed with other cases--what happened to me could not have happened, +perhaps, with any other family in England.... I hate and loathe +everything too which is clandestine--we _both_ do, Robert and I; and +the manner the whole business was carried on in might have instructed +the least acute of the bystanders. The flowers standing perpetually +on my table for the last two years were brought there by one hand, +as everybody knew; and really it would have argued an excess of +benevolence in an unmarried man with quite enough resources in London, +to pay the continued visits he paid to me without some strong motive +indeed. Was it his fault that he did not associate with everybody in +the house as well as with me? He desired it; but no--that was not to +be. The endurance of the pain of the position was not the least proof +of his attachment to me. How I thank you for believing in him--how +grateful it makes me! He will justify to the uttermost that faith. We +have been married two months, and every hour has bound me to him more +and more; if the beginning was well, still better it is now--that is +what he says to me, and I say back again day by day. Then it is an +'advantage,' to have an inexhaustible companion who talks wisdom of +all things in heaven and earth, and shows besides as perpetual a +good humour and gaiety as if he were--a fool, shall I say? or a +considerable quantity more, perhaps. As to our domestic affairs, it is +not to _my_ honour and glory that the 'bills' are made up every week +and paid more regularly 'than hard beseems,' while dear Mrs. Jameson +laughs outright at our miraculous prudence and economy, and declares +that it is past belief and precedent that we should not burn the +candles at both ends, and the next moment will have it that we remind +her of the children in a poem of Heine's who set up housekeeping in +a tub, and inquired gravely the price of coffee. Ah, but she has +left Pisa at last--left it yesterday. It was a painful parting to +everybody. Seven weeks spent in such close neighbourhood--a month of +it under the same roof and in the same carriages--will fasten +people together, and then travelling _shakes_ them together. A more +affectionate, generous woman never lived than Mrs. Jameson, and it +is pleasant to be sure that she loves us both from her heart, and not +only _du bout des lèvres_. Think of her making Robert promise (as he +has told me since) that in the case of my being unwell he would write +to her instantly, and she would come at once if anywhere in Italy. So +kind, so like her. She spends the winter in Rome, but an intermediate +month at Florence, and we are to keep tryst with her somewhere in the +spring, perhaps at Venice. If not, she says that she will come back +here, for that certainly she will see us. She would have stayed +altogether perhaps, if it had not been for her book upon art which she +is engaged to bring out next year, and the materials for which are to +be _sought_. As to Pisa, she liked it just as we like it. Oh, it is so +beautiful and so full of repose, yet not _desolate_: it is rather the +repose of sleep than of death. Then after the first ten days of rain, +which seemed to refer us fatally to Alfieri's 'piove e ripiove,' came +as perpetual a divine sunshine, such cloudless, exquisite weather that +we ask whether it may not be June instead of November. Every day I am +out walking while the golden oranges look at me over the walls, and +when I am tired Robert and I sit down on a stone to watch the lizards. +We have been to your seashore, too, and seen your island, only he +insists on it (Robert does) that it is not Corsica but Gorgona, and +that Corsica is not in sight. _Beautiful_ and blue the island was, +however, in any case. It might have been Romero's instead of either. +Also we have driven up to the foot of mountains, and seen them +reflected down in the little pure lake of Ascuno, and we have seen the +pine woods, and met the camels laden with faggots all in a line. So +now ask me again if I enjoy my liberty as you expect. My head goes +round sometimes, that is all. I never was happy before in my life. Ah, +but, of course, the painful thoughts recur! + +There are some whom I love too tenderly to be easy under their +displeasure, or even under their injustice. Only it, seems to me +that with time and patience my poor dearest papa will be melted into +opening his arms to us--will be melted into a clearer understanding of +motives and intentions; I cannot believe that he will forget me, as he +says he will, and go on thinking me to be dead rather than alive and +happy. So I manage to hope for the best, and all that remains, all +my life here, _is_ best already, could not be better or happier. And +willingly tell dear Mr. Martin I would take him and you for witnesses +of it, and in the meanwhile he is not to send me tantalising messages; +no, indeed, unless you really, really, should let yourselves be wafted +our way, and could you do so much better at Pau? particularly if Fanny +Hanford should come here. Will she really? The climate is described by +the inhabitants as a 'pleasant spring throughout the winter,' and if +you were to see Robert and me threading our path along the shady side +everywhere to avoid the 'excessive heat of the sun' in this November +(!) it would appear a good beginning. We are not in the warm orthodox +position by the Arno because we heard with our ears one of the best +physicians of the place advise against it. 'Better,' he said, 'to have +cool rooms to live in and warm walks to go out along.' The rooms we +have are rather over-cool perhaps; we are obliged to have a little +fire in the sitting-room, in the mornings and evenings that is; but +I do not fear for the winter, there is too much difference to my +feelings between this November and any English November I ever knew. +We have our dinner from the Trattoria at two o'clock, and can dine our +favorite way on thrushes and chianti with a miraculous cheapness, and +no trouble, no cook, no kitchen; the prophet Elijah or the lilies of +the field took as little thought for their dining, which exactly suits +us. It is a continental fashion which we never cease commending. Then +at six we have coffee, and rolls of milk, made of milk, I mean, and at +nine our supper (call it supper, if you please) of roast chestnuts and +grapes. So you see how primitive we are, and how I forget to praise +the eggs at breakfast. The worst of Pisa is, or would be to some +persons, that, socially speaking, it has its dullnesses; it is not +lively like Florence, not in that way. But we do not want society, we +shun it rather. We like the Duomo and the Campo Santo instead. Then +we know a little of Professor Ferucci, who gives us access to the +University library, and we subscribe to a modern one, and we have +plenty of writing to do of our own. If we can do anything for Fanny +Hanford, let us know. It would be too happy, I suppose, to have to do +it for yourselves. Think, however, I am quite well, quite well. I can +thank God, too, for being alive and well. Make dear Mr. Martin keep +well, and not forget himself in the Herefordshire cold--draw him into +the sun somewhere. Now write and tell me everything of your plans and +of you both, dearest friends. My husband bids me say that he desires +to have my friends for his own friends, and that he is grateful to you +for not crossing that feeling. Let him send his regards to you. And +let me be throughout all changes, + +Your ever faithful and most affectionate +BA. + +I am expecting every day to hear from my dearest sisters. Write to +them and love them for me. + +This letter has been kept for several days from different causes. Will +you inclose the little note to Miss Mitford? I do not hear from home, +and am uneasy. + +May God bless you! + + +November 9. + +I am so vexed about those poems appearing just now in +'Blackwood.'[150] Papa must think it _impudent_ of me. It is +unfortunate. + +[Footnote 150: _Blackwood's Magazine_ for October 1846 contained +the following poems by Mrs. Browning, some phrases in which might +certainly be open to comment if they were supposed to have been +deliberately chosen for publication at this particular time: 'A +Woman's Shortcomings,' 'A Man's Requirements,' 'Maude's Spinning,' 'A +Dead Rose,' 'Change on Change,' 'A Reed,' and 'Hector in the Garden.'] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +[Pisa]: November 5, 1846. + +I have your letter, ever dearest Miss Mitford, and it is welcome even +more than your letters have been used to be to me--the last charm +was to come, you see, by this distance. For all your affection and +solicitude, may you trust my gratitude; and if you love me a little, +I love you indeed, and never shall cease. The only difference shall be +that two may love you where one did, and for my part I will answer for +it that if you could love the poor one you will not refuse any love +to the other when you come to know him. I never could bear to speak to +you of _him_ since quite the beginning, or rather I never could dare. +But when you know him and understand how the mental gifts are scarcely +half of him, you will not wonder at your friend, and, indeed, two +years of steadfast affection from such a man would have, overcome any +woman's heart. I have been neither much wiser nor much foolisher than +all the shes in the world, only much happier--the difference is in the +happiness. Certainly I am not likely to repent of having given myself +to him. I cannot, for all the pain received from another quarter, the +comfort for which is that my conscience is pure of the sense of having +broken the least known duty, and that the same consequence would +follow any marriage of any member of my family with any possible man +or woman. I look to time, and reason, and natural love and pity, and +to the justification of the events acting through all; I look on so +and hope, and in the meanwhile it has been a great comfort to have had +not merely the indulgence but the approbation and sympathy of most +of my old personal friends--oh, such kind letters; for instance, +yesterday one came from dear Mrs. Martin, who has known me, she and +her husband, since the very beginning of my womanhood, and both of +them are acute, thinking people, with heads as strong as their hearts. +I in my haste left England without a word to them, for which they +might naturally have reproached me; instead of which they write to say +that never _for a moment_ have they doubted my having acted for the +best and happiest, and to assure me that, having sympathised with me +in every sorrow and trial, they delightedly feel with me in the new +joy; nothing could be more cordially kind. See how I write to you as +if I could speak--all these little things which are great things when +seen in the light. Also R, and I are not in the least tired of one +another notwithstanding the very perpetual _tête-à-tête_ into which +we have fallen, and which (past the first fortnight) would be rather a +trial in many cases. Then our housekeeping may end perhaps in being a +proverb among the nations, for at the beginning it makes Mrs. Jameson +laugh heartily. It disappoints her theories, she admits--finding that, +albeit poets, we abstain from burning candles at both ends at once, +just as if we did statistics and historical abstracts by nature +instead. And do not think that the trouble falls on me. Even the +pouring out of the coffee is a divided labour, and the ordering of the +dinner is quite out of my hands. As for me, when I am so good as to +let myself be carried upstairs, and so angelical as to sit still on +the sofa, and so considerate, moreover, as _not_ to put my foot into +a puddle, why _my_ duty is considered done to a perfection which is +worthy of all adoration; it really is not very hard work to please +this taskmaster. For Pisa, we both like it extremely. The city is +full of beauty and repose, and the purple mountains gloriously seem +to beckon us on deeper into the vineland. We have rooms close to the +Duomo and Leaning Tower, in the great Collegio built by Vasari, three +excellent bedrooms and a sitting-room, matted and carpeted, looking +comfortable even for England. For the last fortnight, except the very +last few sunny days, we have had rain; but the climate is as mild as +possible, no cold, with all the damp. Delightful weather we had for +the travelling. Ah, you, with your terrors of travelling, how you +amuse me! Why, the constant change of air in the continued fine +weather made me better and better instead of worse. It did me +infinite good. Mrs. Jameson says she 'won't call me _improved_, but +_transformed_ rather.' I like the new sights and the movement; my +spirits rise; I live--I can adapt myself. If you really tried it and +got as far as Paris you would be drawn on, I fancy, and on--on to the +East perhaps with H. Martineau, or at least as near it as we are here. +By the way, or out of the way, it struck me as unfortunate that my +poems should have been printed _just now_ in 'Blackwood;' I wish it +had been otherwise. Then I had a letter from one of my Leeds readers +the other day to expostulate about the _inappropriateness_ of certain +of them! The fact is that I sent a heap of verses swept from my desk +and belonging to old feelings and impressions, and not imagining that +they were to be used in that quick way. There can't be very much to +like, I fear, apart from your goodness for what calls itself mine. +Love me, dearest dear Miss Mitford, my dear kind friend--love me, I +beg of you, still and ever, only ceasing when I cease to think of you; +I will allow of that clause. Mrs. Jameson and Gerardine are staying at +the hotel here in Pisa still, and we manage to see them every day; so +good and true and affectionate she is, and so much we shall miss +her when she goes, which will be in a day or two now. She goes to +Florence, to Siena, to Rome to complete her work upon art, which +is the object of her Italian journey. I read your vivid and glowing +description of the picture to her, or rather I showed your picture +to her, and she quite believes with you that it is most probably a +_Velasquez_. Much to be congratulated the owner must be. I mean to +know something about pictures some day. Robert does, and I shall get +him to open my eyes for me with a little instruction. You know that +in this place are to be seen the first steps of art, and it will be +interesting to trace them from it as we go farther ourselves. Our +present residence we have taken for six months; but we have dreams, +dreams, and we discuss them like soothsayers over the evening's +roasted chestnuts and grapes. Flush highly approves of Pisa (and the +roasted chestnuts), because here he goes out every day and speaks +Italian to the little dogs. Oh, Mr. Chorley, such a kind, feeling +note he wrote to Robert from Germany, when he read of our marriage +in 'Galignani;' we were both touched by it. And Monckton Milnes and +others--very kind all. But in a particular manner I remember the +kindness of my valued friend Mr. Horne, who never failed me nor could +fail. Will you explain to him, or rather ask him to understand, why I +did not answer his last note? I forget even Balzac here; tell me what +he writes, and help me to love that dear, generous Mr. Kenyon, whom I +can love without help. And let me love you, and you love me. + +Your ever affectionate and grateful +E.B.B. + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +Collegio Ferdinando [Pisa]: +Saturday, November 23, 1846 [postmark]. + +We were delighted to have your note, dearest Aunt Nina, and I answer +it with my feet on your stool, so that my feet are full of you even if +my head is not, always. Now, I shall not go a sentence farther without +thanking you for that comfort; you scarcely guessed perhaps what a +comfort it would be, that stool of yours. I am even apt to sit on it +for hours together, leaning against the sofa, till I get to be scolded +for putting myself so into the fire, and prophesied of in respect to +the probability of a 'general conflagration' of stools and Bas; on +which the prophet is to leap from the Leaning Tower, and Flush to +be left to make the funeral oration of the establishment. In the +meantime, it really is quite a comfort that our housekeeping should be +your 'example' at Florence; we have edifying countenances whenever we +think of it. And Robert will not by any means believe that you passed +us on our own ground, though the eleven pauls a week for breakfast, +and my humility, seemed to suggest something of the sort. I am so +glad, we are both so glad, that you are enjoying yourself at the +fullest and highest among the wonders of art, and cannot be chilled +in the soul by any of those fatal winds you speak of. For me, I am +certainly better here at Pisa, though the penalty is to see Frate +Angelico's picture with the remembrance of you rather than the +presence. Here, indeed, we have had a little too much cold for two +days; there was a feeling of frost in the air, and a most undeniable +east wind which prevented my going out, and made me feel less +comfortable than usual at home. But, after all, one felt ashamed to +call it _cold_, and Robert found the heat on the Arno insupportable; +which set us both mourning over our 'situation' at the Collegio, where +one of us could not get out on such days without a blow on the chest +from the 'wind at the corner.' Well, experience teaches, and we shall +be taught, and the cost of it is not so very much after all. We have +seen your professor once since you left us (oh, the leaving!), or +_spoken_ to him once, I should say, when he came in one evening and +caught us reading, sighing, yawning over 'Nicolò de' Lapi,' a romance +by the son-in law of Manzoni. Before we could speak, he called it +'excellent, très beau,' one of their very best romances, upon which, +of course, dear Robert could not bear to offend his literary and +national susceptibilities by a doubt even. _I_, not being so humane, +thought that any suffering reader would be justified (under the +rack-wheel) in crying out against such a book, as the dullest, +heaviest, stupidest, lengthiest. Did you ever read it? If not, +_don't_. When a father-in-law imitates Scott, and a son-in-law +imitates his father-in-law, think of the consequences! Robert, in his +zeal for Italy and against Eugène Sue, tried to persuade me at first +(this was before the scene with your professor) that 'really, Ba, it +wasn't so bad,' 'really you are too hard to be pleased,' and so on; +but after two or three chapters, the dullness grew too strong for even +his benevolence, and the yawning catastrophe (supposed to be peculiar +to the 'Guida') overthrew him as completely as it ever did me, though +we both resolved to hold on by the stirrup to the end of the two +volumes. The catalogue of the library (for observe that we subscribe +now--the object is attained!) offers a most melancholy insight +into the actual literature of Italy. Translations, translations, +translations from third and fourth and fifth rate French and English +writers, chiefly French; the roots of thought, here in Italy, seem +dead in the ground. It is well that they have great memories--nothing +else lives. + +We have had the kindest of letters from dear noble Mr. Kenyon; who, +by the way, speaks of you as we like to hear him. Dickens is going to +Paris for the winter, and Mrs. Butler[151] (he adds) is expected +in London. Dear Mr. Kenyon calls me 'crotchety,' but Robert 'an +incarnation of the good and the true,' so that I have everything to +thank him for. There are noble people who take the world's side and +make it seem 'for the _nonce_' almost respectable; but he gives up all +the talk and fine schemes about money-making, and allows us to wait to +see whether we want it or not--the money, I mean. + +It is Monday, and I am only finishing this note. In the midst came +letters from my sisters, making me feel so glad that I could not +write. Everybody is well and happy, and dear papa _in high spirits_ +and _having people to dine with him every day_, so that I have not +really done anyone harm in doing myself all this good. It does not +indeed bring us a step nearer to the forgiveness, but to hear of his +being in good spirits makes me inclined to jump, with Gerardine.[152] +Dear Geddie! How pleased I am to hear of her being happy, particularly +(perhaps) as she is not too happy to forget _me_. Is all that glory of +art making her very ambitious to work and enter into the court of the +Temple?... + +Robert's love to you both. We often talk of our prospect of meeting +you again. And for the _past_, dearest Aunt Nina, believe of me that +I feel to you more gratefully than ever I can say, and remain, while I +live, + +Your faithful and affectionate +BA. + +[Footnote 151: Better known as Fanny Kemble.] + +[Footnote 152: Miss Gerardine Bate, Mrs. Jameson's niece.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Pisa: December 19, [1846]. + +Ever dearest Miss Mitford, your kindest letter is three times welcome +as usual. On the day you wrote it in the frost, I was sitting out of +doors, just in my summer mantilla, and complaining 'of the heat this +December!' But woe comes to the discontented. Within these three or +four days we too have had frost--yes, and a little snow, for the +first time, say the Pisans, during five years. Robert says that +the mountains are powdered toward Lucca, and I, who cannot see the +mountains, can see the cathedral--the Duomo--how it glitters whitely +at the summit, between the blue sky and its own walls of yellow +marble. Of course I do not stir an inch from the fire, yet have to +struggle a little against my old languor. Only, you see, this can't +last! it is exceptional weather, and, up to the last few days, has +been divine. And then, after all we talk of frost, my bedroom, which +has no fireplace, shows not an English sign on the window, and the +air is not _metallic_ as in England. The sun, too, is so hot that +the women are seen walking with fur capes and parasols, a curious +combination. + +I hope you had your visit from Mr. Chorley, and that you both had the +usual pleasure from it. Indeed I _am_ touched by what you tell me, and +was touched by his note to my husband, written in the first surprise; +and because Robert has the greatest regard for him, besides my own +personal reasons, I do count him in the forward rank of our friends. +You will hear that he has obliged us by accepting a trusteeship to +a settlement, forced upon me in spite of certain professions or +indispositions of mine; but as my husband's gifts, I had no right, it +appeared, by refusing it to place him in a false position for the sake +of what dear Mr. Kenyon calls my 'crotchets.' Oh, dear Mr. Kenyon! His +kindness and goodness to us have been past thinking of, past thanking +for; we can only fall into silence. He has thrust his hand into the +fire for us by writing to papa himself, by taking up the management of +my small money-matters when nearer hands let them drop, by justifying +us with the whole weight of his personal influence; all this in the +very face of his own habits and susceptibilities. He has resolved +that I shall not miss the offices of father, brother, friend, nor the +tenderness and sympathy of them all. And this man is called a mere man +of the world, and would be called so rightly if the world were a place +for angels. I shall love him dearly and gratefully to my last breath; +we both shall.... + +Robert and I are deep in the fourth month of wedlock; there has not +been a shadow between us, nor a _word_ (and I have observed that all +married people confess to _words_), and that the only change I can lay +my finger on in him is simply and clearly an increase of affection. +Now I need not say it if I did not please, and I should not please, +you know, to tell a story. The truth is, that I who always did +certainly believe in love, yet was as great a sceptic as you about the +evidences thereof, and having held twenty times that Jacob's serving +fourteen years for Rachel was not too long by fourteen days, I was +not a likely person (with my loathing dread of marriage as a loveless +state, and absolute contentment with single life as the alternative +to the great majorities of marriages), I was not likely to accept a +feeling not genuine, though from the hand of Apollo himself, crowned +with his various godships. Especially too, in my position, I could +not, would not, should not have done it. Then, genuine feelings are +genuine feelings, and do not pass like a cloud. We are as happy as +people can be, I do believe, yet are living in a way to _try_ this +new relationship of ours--in the utmost seclusion and perpetual +_téte-à-téte_--no amusement nor distraction from without, except some +of the very dullest Italian romances which throw us back on the +memory of Balzac with reiterated groans. The Italians seem to hang on +translations from the French--as we find from the library--not merely +of Balzac, but Dumas, your Dumas, and reaching lower--long past De +Kock--to the third and fourth rate novelists. What is purely Italian +is, as far as we have read, purely dull and conventional. There is no +breath nor pulse in the Italian genius. Mrs. Jameson writes to us +from Florence that in politics and philosophy the people are getting +alive--which may be, for aught we know to the contrary, the poetry and +imagination leave them room enough by immense vacancies. + +Yet we delight in Italy, and dream of 'pleasures new' for the +summer--_pastures_ new, I should have said--but it comes to the same +thing. The _padrone_ in this house sent us in as a gift (in gracious +recognition, perhaps, of our lawful paying of bills) an immense dish +of oranges--two hanging on a stalk with the green leaves still moist +with the morning's dew--every great orange of twelve or thirteen with +its own stalk and leaves. Such a pretty sight! And better oranges, I +beg to say, never were eaten, when we are barbarous enough to eat them +day by day after our two o'clock dinner, softening, with the vision +of them, the winter which has just shown itself. Almost I have been +as pleased with the oranges as I was at Avignon by the _pomegranate_ +given to me much in the same way. Think of my being singled out of +all our caravan of travellers--Mrs. Jameson and Gerardine Jameson[153] +both there--for that significant gift of the pomegranates! I had never +seen one before, and, of course, proceeded instantly to cut one 'deep +down the middle'[154]--accepting the omen. Yet, in shame and confusion +of face, I confess to not being able to appreciate it properly. Olives +and pomegranates I set on the same shelf, to be just looked at and +called by their names, but by no means eaten bodily. + +But you mistake me, dearest friend, about the 'Blackwood' verses. I +never thought of writing _applicative poems_--the heavens forfend! +Only that just _then_, [in] the midst of all the talk, _any_ verses +of mine should come into print--and some of them to that _particular +effect_--looked unlucky. I dare say poor papa (for instance) thought +me turned suddenly to brass itself. Well, it is perhaps more my +fancy than anything else, and was only an impression, even there. Mr. +Chorley will tell you of a play of his, which I hope will make its +way, though I do wonder how people can bear to write for the theatres +in the present state of things. Robert is busy preparing a new edition +of his collected poems which are to be so clear that everyone who has +understood them hitherto will lose all distinction. We both mean to +be as little idle as possible.... We shall meet one day in joy, I do +hope, and then you will love my husband for his own sake, as for mine +you do not hate him now. + +Your ever affectionate +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 153: This surname is a mistake on Mrs. Browning's part; see +her letter of October 1, 1849.] + +[Footnote 154: See _Lady Geraldine's Courtship_, stanza xli.] + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +[Pisa:] December 21 [1846]. + +You must let me tell you, my dearest Mr. Boyd, that I dreamed of you +last night, and that you were looking very well in my dream, and that +you told me to break a crust from a loaf of bread which lay by you +on the table; which I accept on recollection as a sacramental sign +between us, of peace and affection. Wasn't it strange that I should +dream so of you? Yet no; thinking awake of you, the sleeping thoughts +come naturally. Believe of me this Christmas time, as indeed at every +time, that I do not forget you, and that all the distance and change +of country can make no difference. Understand, too (for _that_ will +give pleasure to your goodness), that I am very happy, and not unwell, +though it is almost Christmas.... + +Dearest friend, are you well and in good spirits? Think of me over +the Cyprus, between the cup and the lip, though bad things are said to +fall out so. We have, instead of Cyprus, _Montepulciano_, the famous +'King of Wine,' crowned king, you remember, by the grace of a poet! +Your Cyprus, however, keeps supremacy over me, and will not abdicate +the divine right of being associated with you. I speak of wine, but we +live here the most secluded, quiet life possible--reading and writing, +and talking of all things in heaven and earth, and a little besides; +and sometimes even laughing as if we had twenty people to laugh with +us, or rather _hadn't_. We know not a creature, I am happy to say, +except an Italian professor (of the university here) who called on us +the other evening and praised aloud the scholars of England. 'English +Latin was best,' he said, 'and English Greek foremost.' Do you clap +your hands? + +The new pope is more liberal than popes in general, and people write +odes to him in consequence. + +Robert is going to bring out a new edition of his collected poems, +and you are not to read any more, if you please, till this is done. +I heard of Carlyle's saying the other day 'that he hoped more from +Robert Browning, for the people of England, than from any living +English writer,' which pleased me, of course. I am just sending off +an anti-slavery poem for America,[155] too ferocious, perhaps, for the +Americans to publish: but they asked for a poem and shall have it. + +If I ask for a letter, shall I have it, I wonder? Remember me and +love me a little, and pray for me, dearest friend, and believe how +gratefully and ever affectionately + +I am your + +ELIBET, + +though Robert always calls me _Ba_, and thinks it the prettiest name +in the world! which is a proof, you will say, not only of blind love +but of deaf love. + +[Footnote 155: 'The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim's Point' _(Poetical +Works_, ii. 192). It was first printed in a collection called _The +Liberty Bell_, for sale at the Boston National Anti-slavery Bazaar +of 1848. It was separately printed in England in 1849 as a small +pamphlet, which is now a rare bibliographical curiosity.] + + +It was during the stay at Pisa, and early in the year 1847, that Mr. +Browning first became acquainted with his wife's 'Sonnets from +the Portuguese.' Written during the course of their courtship and +engagement, they were not shown even to him until some months after +their marriage. The story of it was told by Mr. Browning in later +life to Mr. Edmund Gosse, with leave to make it known to the world in +general; and from Mr. Gosse's publication it is here quoted in his own +words.[156] + +[Footnote 156: '_Critical Kit-Kats_,' by E. Gosse, p. 2 (1896).] + +'Their custom was, Mr. Browning said, to write alone, and not to show +each other what they had written. This was a rule which he sometimes +broke through, but she never. He had the habit of working in a +downstairs room, where their meals were spread, while Mrs. Browning +studied in a room on the floor above. One day, early in 1847, their +breakfast being over, Mrs. Browning went upstairs, while her husband +stood at the window watching the street till the table should be +cleared. He was presently aware of some one behind him, although the +servant was gone. It was Mrs. Browning, who held him by the shoulder +to prevent his turning to look at her, and at the same time pushed +a packet of papers into the pocket of his coat. She told him to read +that, and to tear it up if he did not like it; and then she fled again +to her own room.' + +The sonnets were intended for her husband's eye alone; in the first +instance, not even for his. No poems can ever have been composed with +less thought of the public; perhaps for that very reason they are +unmatched for simplicity and sincerity in all Mrs. Browning's work. +Her genius in them has full mastery over its material, as it has in +few of her other poems. All impurities of style or rhythm are purged +away by the fire of love; and they stand, not only highest among the +writings of their authoress, but also in the very forefront of English +love-poems. With the single exception of Rossetti, no modern English +poet has written of love with such genius, such beauty, and such +sincerity, as the two who gave the most beautiful example of it in +their own lives. + +Fortunately for all those who love true poetry, Mr. Browning judged +rightly of the obligation laid upon him by the possession of these +poems. 'I dared not,' he said, 'reserve to myself the finest sonnets +written in any language since Shakespeare's.' Accordingly he persuaded +his wife to commit the printing of them to her friend, Miss Mitford; +and in the course of the year they appeared in a slender volume, +entitled 'Sonnets, by E.B.B.,' with the imprint 'Reading, 1847,' and +marked 'Not for publication.' It was not until three years later that +they were offered to the general public, in the volumes of 1850. +Here first they appeared under the title of 'Sonnets from the +Portuguese'--a title suggested by Mr. Browning (in preference to his +wife's proposal, 'Sonnets translated from the Bosnian') for the sake +of its half-allusion to her other poem, 'Catarina to Camoens,' which +was one of his chief favourites among her works. + +To these sonnets there is, however, no allusion in the letters here +published, which say little for some time of her own work. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +February 8, 1847. + +But, my dearest Miss Mitford, your scheme about Leghorn is drawn out +in the clouds. Now just see how impossible. Leghorn is fifteen miles +off, and though there is a railroad there is no liberty for French +books to wander backwards and forwards without inspection and seizure. +Why, do remember that we are in Italy after all! Nevertheless, I will +tell you what we have done: transplanted our subscription from the +Italian library, which was wearing us away into a misanthropy, or at +least despair of the wits of all Southerns, into a library which has +a tolerable supply of French books, and gives us the privilege +besides of having a French newspaper, the 'Siècle,' left with us every +evening. Also, this library admits (is allowed to admit on certain +conditions) some books forbidden generally by the censureship, which +is of the strictest; and though Balzac appears very imperfectly, I +am delighted to find him at all, and shall dun the bookseller for the +'Instruction criminelle,' which I hope discharges your Lucien as a +'forçat'--neither man nor woman--and true poet, least of all.... + +The 'Siècle' has for a _feuilleton_ a new romance of Soulié's, called +'Saturnin Fichet,' which is really not good, and tiresome to boot. +Robert and I began by each of us reading it, but after a little while +he left me alone, being certain that no good could come of such a +work. So, of course, ever since, I have been exclaiming and exclaiming +as to the wonderful improvement and increasing beauty and glory of +it, just to justify myself, and to make him sorry for not having +persevered! The truth is, however, that but for obstinacy I should +give up too. Deplorably dull the story is, and there is a crowd of +people each more indifferent than each, to you; the pith of the plot +being (very characteristically) that the hero has somebody exactly +like him. To the reader, it's _all one_ in every sense--who's who, and +what's what. Robert is a warm admirer of Balzac and has read most of +his books, but certainly--oh certainly--he does not in a general way +appreciate our French people quite with our warmth; he takes too high +a standard, I tell him, and won't listen to a story for a story's +sake. I can bear to be amused, you know without a strong pull on my +admiration. So we have great wars sometimes, and I put up Dumas' flag, +or Soulié's, or Eugène Sue's (yet he was properly possessed by the +'Mystères de Paris') and carry it till my arms ache. The plays and +vaudevilles he knows far more of than I do, and always maintains +they are the happiest growth of the French school--setting aside the +_masters_, observe--for Balzac and George Sand hold all their honours; +and, before your letter came, he had told me about the 'Kean' and the +other dramas. Then we read together the other day the 'Rouge et Noir,' +that powerful book of Stendhal's (Beyle), and he thought it very +striking, and observed--what I had thought from the first and again +and again--that it was exactly like Balzac _in the raw_, in the +material and undeveloped conception. What a book it is really, and so +full of pain and bitterness, and the gall of iniquity! The new Dumas +I shall see in time, perhaps, and it is curious that Robert had just +been telling me the very story you speak of in your letter, from the +'Causes Célèbres.' I never read it--the more shame! Dearest friend, +all this talk of French books and no talk about _you_--the _most_ +shame! You don't tell me enough of yourself, and I want to hear, +because (besides the usual course of reasons) Mr. Chorley spoke of you +as if you were not as cheerful as usual; do tell me. Ah! if you fancy +that I do not love you as near, through being so far, you are unjust +to me as you never were before. For myself, the brightness round me +has had a cloud on it lately by an illness of poor Wilson's.... She +would not go to Dr. Cook till I was terrified one night, while she was +undressing me, by her sinking down on the sofa in a shivering fit. Oh, +so frightened I was, and Robert ran out for a physician; and I could +have shivered too, with the fright. But she is convalescent now, +thank God! and in the meanwhile I have acquired a heap of practical +philosophy, and have learnt how it is possible (in certain conditions +of the human frame) to comb out and twist up one's own hair, and lace +one's very own stays, and cause hooks and eyes to meet behind one's +very own back, besides making toast and water for Wilson--which last +miracle, it is only just to say, was considerably assisted by Robert's +counsels 'not quite to set fire to the bread' while one was toasting +it. He was the best and kindest all that time, as even _he_ could be, +and carried the kettle when it was too heavy for me, and helped me +with heart and head. Mr. Chorley could not have praised him too much, +be very sure. I, who always rather appreciated him, do set down the +thoughts I had as merely unjust things; he exceeds them all, indeed. +Yes, Mr. Chorley has been very kind to us. I had a kind note myself +from him a few days since, and do you know that we have a sort of hope +of seeing him in Italy this year, with dearest Mr. Kenyon, who has the +goodness to crown his goodness by a 'dream' of coming to see us? We +leave Pisa in April (did I tell you that?) and pass through Florence +towards the north of Italy--to _Venice_, for instance. In the way of +writing, I have not done much yet--just finished my rough sketch of +an anti-slavery ballad and sent it off to America, where nobody will +print it, I am certain, because I could not help making it bitter. If +they _do_ print it, I shall thank them more boldly in earnest than +I fancy now. Tell me of Mary Howitt's new collection of ballads--are +they good? I warmly wish that Mr. Chorley may succeed with his play; +but how can Miss Cushman promise a hundred nights for an untried +work?... Perhaps you may find the two last numbers of the 'Bells and +Pomegranates' less obscure--it seems so to me. Flush has grown an +absolute monarch and barks one distracted when he wants a door opened. +Robert spoils him, I think. Do think of me as your ever affectionate +and grateful + +BA. + +Have you seen 'Agnes de Misanie,' the new play by the author of +'Lucretia'? A witty feuilletoniste says of it that, besides all the +unities of Aristotle, it comprises, from beginning to end, _unity of +situation_. Not bad, is it? Madame Ancelot has just succeeded with a +comedy, called 'Une Année à Paris.' By the way, _shall you go to Paris +this spring_?[157] + +[Footnote 157: A list of the works composing Balzac's _Comédie +Humaine_ is attached to this letter for Miss Mitford's benefit.] + + +From Mr. Browning's family, though she had as yet had no opportunity +of making acquaintance with them face to face, Mrs. Browning from the +first met with an affectionate reception. The following is the first +now extant of a series of letters written by her to Miss Browning, +the poet's sister. The abrupt and private nature of the marriage +never seems to have caused the slightest coldness of feeling in this +quarter, though it must have caused anxiety; and the tone of the early +letters, in which so new and unfamiliar a relation had to be taken up, +does equal honour to the writer and to the recipient. + + +_To Miss Browning_ +[Pisa: about February 1847.] + +I must begin by thanking dearest Sarianna again for her note, and by +assuring her that the affectionate tone of it quite made me happy and +grateful together--that I am grateful to _all of you_: do _feel_ that +I am. For the rest, when I see (afar off) Robert's minute manuscripts, +a certain distrust steals over me of anything I can possibly tell you +of our way of living, lest it should be the vainest of repetitions, +and by no means worth repeating, both at once. Such a quiet silent +life it is--going to hear the Friar preach in the Duomo, a grand event +in it, and the wind laying flat all our schemes about Volterra and +Lucca! I have had to give up even the Friar for these three days past; +there is nothing for me when I have driven out Robert to take his +necessary walk but to sit and watch the pinewood blaze. He is grieved +about the illness of his cousin, only I do hope that your next letter +will confirm the happy change which stops the further anxiety, and +come soon for that purpose, besides others. Your letters never can +come too often, remember, even when they have not to speak of illness, +and I for my part must always have a thankful interest in your cousin +for the kind part he took in the happiest event of my life. You have +to tell us too of your dear mother--Robert is so anxious about her +always. How deeply and tenderly he loves her and all of you, never +could have been more manifest than now when he is away from you and +has to talk _of_ you instead of _to_ you. By the way (or rather out +of the way) I quite took your view of the purposed ingratitude to poor +Miss Haworth[158]--it would have been worse in him than the sins of +'Examiner' and 'Athenaeum.' If authors won't feel for one another, +there's an end of the world of writing! Oh, I think he proposed it in +a moment of hardheartedness--we all put on tortoiseshell now and then, +and presently come out into the sun as sensitively as ever. Besides +Miss Haworth has written to us very kindly; and kindness doesn't +spring up everywhere, like the violets in your gravel walks. See how I +understand Hatcham. Do try to love me a little, dearest Sarianna, and +(with my grateful love always to your father and mother) let me be +your affectionate sister, + +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING, +or rather BA. + +[Footnote 158: Miss E.F. Haworth (several letters to whom are given +farther on) was an old friend of Robert Browning's, and published a +volume of verse in 1847, to which this passage seems to allude.] + + +The correspondence with Mr. Westwood, which had lapsed for a +considerable time, was resumed with the following letter: + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +Collegio Ferdinando, Pisa: March 10, 1847. + +If really, my dear Mr. Westwood, it was an 'ill temper' in you, +causing the brief note, it was a most flattering ill temper, and I +thank you just as I have had reason to do for the good nature which +has caused you to bear with me so often and so long. You have been +misled on some points. I did not go to Italy last year, or rather the +year before last! I was disappointed and forced to stay in Wimpole +Street after all; but the winter being so mild, so miraculously mild +for England you may remember, I was spared my winter relapse and +left liberty for new plans such as I never used to think were in +my destiny! Such a change it is to me, such a strange happiness and +freedom, and you must not in your kindness wish me back again, but +rather be contented, like a friend as you are, to hear that I am very +happy and very well, and still doubtful whether all the brightness can +be meant for _me_! It is just as if the sun rose again at 7 o'clock +P.M. The strangeness seems so great.... + +I am now very well, and so happy as not to think much of it, except +for the sake of another. And do you fancy how I feel, carried; into +the visions of nature from my gloomy room. Even now I walk as in a +dream. We made a pilgrimage from Avignon to Vaucluse in right poetical +duty, and I and my husband sate upon two stones in the midst of the +fountain which in its dark prison of rocks flashes and roars and +testifies to the memory of Petrarch. It was louder and fuller than +usual when we were there, on account of the rains; and Flush, though +by no means born to be a hero, considered my position so outrageous +that he dashed through the water to me, splashing me all over, so he +is baptised in Petrarch's name. The scenery is full of grandeur, the +rocks sheathe themselves into the sky, and nothing grows there except +a little cypress here and there, and a straggling olive tree; and the +fountain works out its soul in its stony prison, and runs away in a +green rapid stream. Such a striking sight it is. I sate upon deck, +too, in our passage from Marseilles to Genoa, and had a vision of +mountains, six or seven deep, one behind another. As to Pisa, call it +a beautiful town, you cannot do less with Arno and its palaces, and +above all the wonderful Duomo and Campo Santo, and Leaning Tower and +Baptistery, all of which are a stone's throw from our windows. We +have rooms in a great college-house built by Vasari, and fallen into +desuetude from collegiate purposes; and here we live the quietest and +most _tête-à-tête_ of lives, knowing nobody, hearing nothing, and for +nearly three months together never catching a glimpse of a paper. Oh, +how wrong you were about the 'Times'! Now, however, we subscribe to a +French and Italian library, and have a French newspaper every evening, +the 'Siècle,' and so look through a loophole at the world. Yet, not +too proud are we, even now, for all the news you will please to send +us in charity: 'da obolum Belisario!' + +What do you mean about poor Tennyson? I heard of him last on his +return from a visit to the Swiss mountains, which 'disappointed him,' +he was _said to say_. Very wrong, either of mountains or poet! + +Tell me if you make acquaintance with Mrs. Hewitt's new ballads. + +Mrs. Jameson is engaged in a work on art which will be very +interesting.... + +Flush's love to your Flopsy. Flush has grown very overbearing in this +Italy, I think because my husband spoils him (if not for the glory +at Vaucluse); Robert declares that the said Flush considers him, my +husband, to be created for the especial purpose of doing him service, +and really it looks rather like it. + +Never do I see the 'Athenaeum' now, but before I left England some +pure gushes between the rocks reminded me of you. Tell me all you can; +it will all be like rain upon dry ground. My husband bids me offer his +regards to you--if you will accept them; and that you may do it ask +your heart. I will assure you (aside) that his poetry is as the prose +of his nature: he himself is so much better and higher than his own +works. + + +In the middle of April the Brownings left Pisa and journeyed to +Florence, arriving there on April 20. There, however, the programme +was arrested, and, save for an abortive excursion to Vallombrosa, +whence they were repulsed by the misogynist principles of the monks, +they continued to reside in Florence for the remainder of the year. +Their first abode was in the Via delle Belle Donne; but after the +return from Vallombrosa, in August, they moved across the river, and +took furnished rooms in the Palazzo Guidi, the building which, under +the name of 'Casa Guidi,' is for ever associated with their memory. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Florence: April 24, 1847. + +I received your letter, my dearest friend, by this day's post, and +wrote a little note directly to the office as a trap for the feet +of your travellers. If they escape us after all, therefore, they may +praise their stars for it rather than my intentions--_our_ intentions, +I should say, for Robert will gladly do everything he can in the way +of expounding a text or two of the glories of Florence, and we both +shall be much pleased and cordially pleased to learn more of Fanny +and her brother than the glance at Pisa could teach us. As for me, she +will let me have a little talking for my share: I can't walk about or +see anything. I lie here flat on the sofa in order to be wise; I rest +and take port wine by wineglasses; and a few more days of it will +prepare me, I hope and trust, for an interview with the Venus de' +Medici. Think of my having been in Florence since Tuesday, this +being Saturday, and not a step taken into the galleries. It seems a +disgrace, a sort of involuntary disgraceful act, or rather no-act, +which to complain of relieves one to some degree. And how kind of you +to wish to hear from me of myself! There is nothing really much the +matter with me; I am just _weak_, sleeping and eating dreadfully well +considering that Florence isn't seen yet, and 'looking well,' too, +says Mrs. Jameson, who, with her niece, is our guest just now. It +would have been wise if I had rested longer at Pisa, but, you see, +there was a long engagement to meet Mrs. Jameson here, and she +expressed a very kind unwillingness to leave Italy without keeping it: +also she had resolved to come out of her way on purpose for this, and, +as I had the consent of my physician, we determined to perform our +part of the compact; and in order to prepare for the longer journey I +went out in the carriage a little too soon, perhaps, and a little too +long. At least, if I had kept quite still I should have been strong +by this time--not that I have done myself harm in the serious sense, +observe--and now the affair is accomplished, I shall be wonderfully +discreet and self-denying, and resist Venuses and Apollos like some +one wiser than the gods themselves. My chest is very well; there has +been no symptom of evil in that quarter.... We took the whole coupé +of the diligence--but regretted our first plan of the _vettura_ +nevertheless--and now are settled in very comfortable rooms in the +'Via delle Belle Donne' just out of the Piazza Santa Maria Novella, +very superior rooms to our apartment in Pisa, in which we were cheated +to the uttermost with all the subtlety of Italy and to the full +extent of our ignorance; think what _that_ must have been! Our present +apartment, with the hire of a grand piano and music, does not cost us +so much within ever so many francisconi. Oh, and you don't frighten me +though we are on the north side of the Arno! We have taken our rooms +for two months, and may be here longer, and the fear of the heat was +stronger with me than the fear of the cold, or we might have been in +the Pitti and 'arrostiti' by this time. We expected dear Mrs. +Jameson on Saturday, but she came on Friday evening, having suddenly +remembered that it was Shakespeare's birthday, and bringing with her +from Arezzo a bottle of wine to 'drink to his memory with two other +poets,' so there was a great deal of merriment, as you may fancy, and +Robert played Shakespeare's favorite air, 'The Light of Love,' and +everybody was delighted to meet everybody, and Roman news and Pisan +dullness were properly discussed on every side. She saw a good deal +of Cobden in Rome, and went with him to the Sistine Chapel. He has no +feeling for art, and, being very true and earnest, could only do his +best to _try_ to admire Michael Angelo; but here and there, where he +understood, the pleasure was expressed with a blunt characteristic +simplicity. Standing before the statue of Demosthenes, he said: +'That man is persuaded himself of what he speaks, and will therefore +persuade others.' She liked him exceedingly. For my part, I should +join in more admiration if it were not for his having _accepted +money_, but paid patriots are no heroes of mine. 'Verily they have +their reward.' O'Connell had arrived in Rome, and it was considered +that he came only to die. Among the artists, Gibson and Wyatt were +doing great things; she wishes us to know Gibson particularly. As to +the Pope he lives in an atmosphere of love and admiration, and 'he is +doing _what he can_,' Mrs. Jameson believes. Robert says: 'A dreadful +situation, after all, for a man of understanding and honesty! I pity +him from my soul, for he can, at best, only temporise with truth.' +But human nature is doomed to pay a high price for its opportunities. +Delighted I am to have your good account of dear Mr. Martin, though +you are naughty people to persist in going to England so soon. Do +write to me and tell me all about both of you. I will do what I +can--like the Pope--but what can I do? Yes, indeed, I mean to enjoy +art and nature too; one shall not exclude the other. This Florence +seems divine as we pass the bridges, and my husband, who knows +everything, is to teach and show me all the great wonders, so that I +am reasonably impatient to try my advantages. His kind regards to you +both, and my best love, dearest friends.... + +Your very affectionate +BA. + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +Florence: May 12, [1847]. + +I was afraid, we both were afraid for you, dearest friend, when we +saw the clouds gather and heard the rain fall as it did that day at +Florence. It seemed impossible that you should be beyond the evil +influence, should you have travelled ever so fast; but, after all, +a storm in the Apennines, like many a moral storm, will be better +perhaps than a calm to look back upon. We talked of you and thought of +you, and missed you at coffee time, and regretted that so pleasant a +week (for us) should have gone so fast, as fast as a dull week, or, +rather, a good deal faster. Dearest friend, do believe that we _felt_ +your goodness in Coming to us--in making us an object--before you left +Italy; it fills up the measure of goodness and kindness for which we +shall thank and love you all our lives. Never fancy that we can forget +you or be less touched by the memory of what you have been to us in +affection and sympathy--never. And don't _you_ lose sight of _us_; do +write often, and do, _do_ make haste and come back to Italy, and +then make use of us in any and every possible way as house-takers +or house-mates, for we are ready to accept the lowest place or the +highest. The week you gave us would be altogether bright and glad if +it had not been for the depression and anxiety on your part. May God +turn it all to gain and satisfaction in some unlooked-for way. To be a +_road-maker_ is weary work, even across the Apennines of life. We +have not science enough for it if we have strength, which we haven't +either. Do you remember how Sindbad shut his eyes and let himself +be carried over the hills by an eagle? _That_ was better than to set +about breaking stones. Also what you could do you have done; you have +finished your part, and the sense of a fulfilled duty is in itself +satisfying--is and must be. My sympathies go with you entirely, while +I wish your dear Gerardine to be happy; I wish it from my heart.... +Just after you left us arrived our box with the precious deeds, which +are thrown into the cabinet for want of witnesses. And then Robert +has had a letter from Mr. Forster with the date of _Shakespeare's +birthday_, and overflowing with kindness really both to himself and +me. It quite touched me, that letter. Also we have had a visitation +from an American, but on the point of leaving Florence and very tame +and inoffensive, and we bore it very well considering. He sent us +a new literary periodical of the old world, in which, among other +interesting matter, I had the pleasure of reading an account of my own +'blindness,' taken from a French paper (the 'Presse'), and mentioned +with humane regret. Well! and what more news is there to tell you? +I have been out once, only once, and only for an inglorious glorious +drive round the Piazza Gran Duca, past the Duomo, outside the walls, +and in again at the Cascine. It was like the trail of a vision in the +evening sun. I saw the Perseus in a sort of flash. The Duomo is more +after the likeness of a Duomo than Pisa can show; I like those masses +in ecclesiastical architecture. Now we are plotting how to, engage +a carriage for a month's service without ruining ourselves, for we +_must_ see, and I _can't_ walk and see, though much stronger than when +we parted, and looking much better, as Robert and the looking glass +both do testify. I have seemed at last 'to leap to a conclusion' of +convalescence. But the heat--oh, so hot it is. If it is half as hot +with you, you must be calling on the name of St. Lawrence by this +time, and require no 'turning.' I should not like to travel under +such a sun. It would be too like playing at snapdragon. Yes, 'brightly +happy.' Women generally _lose_ by marriage, but I have gained the +world by mine. If it were not for some griefs, which are and must be +griefs, I should be too happy perhaps, which is good for nobody. May +God bless you, my dear, dearest friend! Robert must be content with +sending his love to-day, and shall write another day. We both love you +every day. My love and a kiss to dearest Gerardine, who is to remember +to write to me. + +Your ever affectionate +BA. + + +_To H.S. Boyd_ +Florence: May 26, 1847. + + + + + + +I should have answered your letter, my dearest friend, more quickly, +but when it came I was ill, as you may have heard, and afterwards I +wished to wait until I could send you information about the Leaning +Tower and the bells[159]. The book you required, about the cathedral, +Robert has tried in vain to procure for you. Plenty of such books, +but _not in English_. In London such things are to be found, I +should think, without difficulty, for instance, 'Murray's Handbook +to Northern Italy,' though rather dear (12_s._), would give you +sufficiently full information upon the ecclesiastical glories both of +Pisa and of this beautiful Florence, from whence I write to you.... I +will answer for the harmony of the bells, as we lived within a stone's +throw of them, and they began at four o'clock every morning and +rang my dreams apart. The Pasquareccia (the fourth) especially has +a profound note in it, which may well have thrilled horror to the +criminal's heart.[160] It was ghastly in its effects; dropped into +the deep of night like a thought of death. Often have I said, 'Oh, how +ghastly!' and then turned on my pillow and dreamed a bad dream. But if +the bell founders at Pisa have a merited reputation, let no one say as +much for the bellringers. The manner in which all the bells of all +the churches in the city are shaken together sometimes would certainly +make you groan in despair of your ears. The discord is fortunately +indescribable. Well--but here we are at Florence, the most beautiful +of the cities devised by man.... + +In the meanwhile I have seen the Venus, I have seen the divine +Raphaels. I have stood by Michael Angelo's tomb in Santa Croce. I +have looked at the wonderful Duomo. This cathedral! After all, the +elaborate grace of the Pisan cathedral is one thing, and the massive +grandeur of this of Florence is another and better thing; it struck +me with a sense of the sublime in architecture. At Pisa we say, 'How +beautiful!' here we say nothing; it is enough if we can breathe. The +mountainous marble masses overcome as we look up--we feel the weight +of them on the soul. Tesselated marbles (the green treading its +elaborate pattern into the dim yellow, which seems the general hue of +the structure) climb against the sky, self-crowned with that prodigy +of marble domes. It struck me as a wonder in architecture. I had +neither seen nor imagined the like of it in any way. It seemed +to carry its theology out with it; it signified more than a mere +building. Tell me everything you want to know. I shall like to answer +a thousand questions. Florence is beautiful, as I have said before, +and must say again and again, most beautiful. The river rushes through +the midst of its palaces like a crystal arrow, and it is hard to tell, +when you see all by the clear sunset, whether those churches, and +houses, and windows, and bridges, and people walking, in the water or +out of the water, are the real walls, and windows, and bridges, and +people, and churches. The only difference is that, down below, there +is a double movement; the movement of the stream besides the movement +of life. For the rest, the distinctness of the eye is as great in one +as in the other.... Remember me to such of my friends as remember me +kindly when unreminded by me. I am very happy--happier and happier. + +ELIBET. + +Robert's best regards to you always. + +[Footnote 159: It will be remembered that Mr. Boyd took a great +interest in bells and bell ringing. The passage omitted below contains +an extract from Murray's _Handbook_ with reference to the bells of +Pisa.] + +[Footnote 160: This bell was tolled on the occasion of an execution.] + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +Palazzo Guidi, Via Maggio, Florence: +August 7, 1847 [postmark]. + +You will be surprised perhaps, and perhaps not, dearest friend, +to find that we are still at Florence. Florence 'holds us with a +glittering eye;' there's a charm cast round us, and we can't get away. +In the first place, your news of Recoaro came so late that, as you +said yourself, we ought to have been there before your letter reached +us. Nobody would encourage us to go north on any grounds, indeed, +and if anybody speaks a word now in favour of Venice, straight comes +somebody else speaking the direct contrary. Altogether, we took to +making a plan of our own--a great, wild, delightful plan of plunging +into the mountains and spending two or three months at the monastery +of Vallombrosa, until the heat was passed, and dear Mr. Kenyon +decided, and we could either settle for the winter at Florence or pass +on to Rome. Could anything look more delightful than that? Well, we +got a letter of recommendation to the abbot, and left our apartment, +Via delle Belle Donne, a week before our three months were done, +thoroughly burned out by the sun; set out at four in the morning, +reached Pelago, and from thence travelled five miles along a 'via non +rotabile' through the most romantic scenery. Oh, such mountains!--as +if the whole world were alive with mountains--such ravines--black in +spite of flashing waters in them--such woods and rocks--travelled +in basket sledges drawn by four white oxen--Wilson and I and the +luggage--and Robert riding step by step. We were four hours doing the +five miles, so you may fancy what rough work it was. Whether I was +most tired or charmed was a _tug_ between body and soul. The worst was +that, there being a new abbot at the monastery--an austere man jealous +of his sanctity and the approach of women--our letter, and Robert's +eloquence to boot, did nothing for us, and we were ingloriously and +ignominiously expelled at the end of five days. For three days we were +welcome; for two more we kept our ground; but after _that_, out we +were thrust, with baggage and expectations. Nothing could be much more +provoking. And yet we came back very merrily for disappointed people +to Florence, getting up at three in the morning, and rolling or +sliding (as it might happen) down the precipitous path, and seeing +round us a morning glory of mountains, clouds, and rising sun, such +as we never can forget--back to Florence and our old lodgings, and an +eatable breakfast of coffee and bread, and a confession one to another +that if we had won the day instead of losing it, and spent our summer +with the monks, we should have grown considerably _thinner_ by the +victory. They make their bread, I rather imagine, with the sawdust of +their fir trees, and, except oil and wine--yes, and plenty of beef +(of _fleisch_, as your Germans say, of all kinds, indeed), which isn't +precisely the fare to suit us--we were thrown for nourishment on the +great sights around. Oh, but so beautiful were mountains and forests +and waterfalls that I could have kept my ground happily for the two +months--even though the only book I saw there was the chronicle of +their San Gualberto. Is he not among your saints? Being routed fairly, +and having breakfasted fully at our old apartment, Robert went out to +find cool rooms, if possible, and make the best of our position, and +now we are settled magnificently in this Palazzo Guidi on a first +floor in an apartment which _looks_ quite beyond our means, and _would +be_ except in the dead part of the season--a suite of spacious rooms +opening on a little terrace and furnished elegantly--rather to suit +our predecessor the Russian prince than ourselves--but cool and in a +delightful situation, six paces from the Piazza Pitti, and with right +of daily admission to the Boboli gardens. We pay what we paid in the +Via Belle Donne. Isn't this prosperous? You would be surprised to see +_me_, I think, I am so very well (and look so)--dispensed from being +carried upstairs, and inclined to take a run, for a walk, every now +and then. I scarcely recognise myself or my ways, or my own spirits, +all is so different.... + +We have made the acquaintance of Mr. Powers,[161] who is +delightful--of a most charming simplicity, with those great burning +eyes of his. Tell me what you think of his boy listening to the +shell. Oh, your Raphaels! how divine! And M. Angelo's sculptures! His +pictures I leap up to in vain, and fall back regularly. Write of your +book and yourself, and write soon; and let me be, as always, your +affectionate BA. + +We are here for two months certain, and perhaps longer. Do write. + +Dear Aunt Nina,--Ba has said something for me, I hope. In any case, my +love goes with hers, I trust you are well and happy, as we are, and as +we would make you if we could. Love to Geddie. Ever yours, [R.B.] + +[Footnote 161: The American sculptor.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Florence: August 7, 1847. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--How I have been longing to get this letter, +which comes at last, and justifies the longing by the pleasure it +gives!... How kind, how affectionate you are to me, and how strong +your claim is that I should thrust on you, in defiance of good taste +and conventions, every evidence and assurance of my happiness, so +as to justify your _faith_ to yourselves and others. Indeed, indeed, +dearest Mrs. Martin, you may 'exult' for me--and this though it should +all end here and now. The uncertainties of life and death seem nothing +to me. A year (nearly) is saved from the darkness, and if that +one year has compensated for those that preceded it--which it has, +abundantly--why, let it for those that shall follow, if it so please +God. Come what may, I feel as if I never could have a right to murmur. +I have been happy enough. Brought about too it was, indeed, by a sort +of miracle which to this moment, when I look back, bewilders me to +think of; and if you knew the details, counted the little steps, +and could; compare my moral position three years and a half ago with +_this_, you would come to despise San Gualberto's miraculous tree at +Vallombrosa, which, being dead, gave out green leaves in recognition +of his approach, as testified by the inscription--do you remember? But +you can't stop to-day to read mine, so rather I shall tell you of our +exploit in the mountains. Only one thing I must say first, one thing +which you must forgive me for the vanity of resolving to say at last, +having had it in my head very often. There's a detestable engraving, +which, if you have the ill luck to see (and you _may_, because, +horrible to relate, it is in the shop windows), will you have the +kindness, for my sake, not to fancy _like Robert_?--it being, as he +says himself, the very image of '_a young man at Waterloo House_, in +a moment of inspiration--"A lovely blue, ma'am."' It is as like Robert +as Flush. And now I am going to tell you of Vallombrosa. You heard how +we meant to stay two months there, and you are to imagine how we got +up at three in the morning to escape the heat (imagine me!)--and with +all our possessions and a 'dozen of port' (which my husband doses me +with twice a day because once it was necessary) proceeded to Pelago +by vettura, and from thence in two sledges, drawn each by two +white bullocks up to the top of the holy mountain. (Robert was on +horseback.) Precisely it must be as you left it. Who can make a road +up a house? We were four hours going five miles, and I with all my +goodwill was dreadfully tired, and scarcely in appetite for the beef +and oil with which we were entertained at the House of Strangers. We +are simple people about diet, and had said over and over that we would +live on eggs and milk and bread and butter during these two months. We +might as well have said that we would live on manna from heaven. +The things we had fixed on were just the impossible things. Oh, that +bread, with the fetid smell, which stuck in the throat like Macbeth's +amen! I am not surprised, you recollect it! The hens had 'got them to +a nunnery,' and objected to lay eggs, and the milk and the holy water +stood confounded. But of course we spread the tablecloth, just as you +did, over all drawbacks of the sort; and the beef and oil, as I +said, and the wine too, were liberal and excellent, and we made our +gratitude apparent in Robert's best Tuscan--in spite of which we +were turned out ignominiously at the end of five days, having been +permitted to overstay the usual three days by only two. No, nothing +could move the lord abbot. He is a new abbot, and; given to sanctity, +and has set his face against women. 'While he is abbot,' he said to +our mediating monk, 'he _will_ be abbot. So he is abbot, and we had to +come back to Florence.' As I read in the 'Life of San Gualberto,' laid +on the table for the edification of strangers, the brothers attain to +sanctification, among other means, by cleaning out pigsties with +their bare hands, without spade or shovel; but _that_ is uncleanliness +enough--they wouldn't touch the little finger of a woman. Angry I was, +I do assure you. I should have liked to stay there, in spite of the +bread. We should have been only a little thinner at the end. And +the scenery--oh, how magnificent! How we enjoyed that great, silent, +ink-black pine wood! And do you remember the sea of mountains to the +left? How grand it is! We were up at three in the morning again to +return to Florence, and the glory of that morning sun breaking the +clouds to pieces among the hills is something ineffaceable from my +remembrance. We came back ignominiously to our old rooms, but found it +impossible to stay on account of the suffocating heat, yet we scarcely +could go far from Florence, because of Mr. Kenyon and our hope of +seeing him here (since lost). A perplexity ended by Robert's discovery +of our present apartments, on the Pitti side of the river (indeed, +close to the Grand Duke's palace), consisting of a suite of spacious +and delightful rooms, which come within our means only from the +deadness of the summer season, comparatively quite cool, and with +a terrace which I enjoy to the uttermost through being able to walk +there without a bonnet, by just stepping out of the window. The church +of San Felice is opposite, so we haven't a neighbour to look through +the sunlight or moonlight and take observations. Isn't that pleasant +altogether? We ordered back the piano and the book subscription, and +settled for two months, and forgave the Vallombrosa monks for the +wrong they did us, like secular Christians. What is to come after, I +can't tell you. But probably we shall creep slowly along toward Rome, +and spend some hot time of it at Perugia, which is said to be cool +enough. I think more of other things, wishing that my dearest, kindest +sisters had a present as bright as mine--to think nothing at all of +the future. Dearest Henrietta's position has long made me uneasy, and, +since she frees me into confidence by her confidence to you, I will +tell you so. Most undesirable it is that this should be continued, and +yet where is there a door open to escape?[162] ... My dear brothers +have the illusion that nobody should marry on less than two thousand a +year. Good heavens! how preposterous it does seem to me! _We_ scarcely +spend three hundred, and I have every luxury, I ever had, and which +it would be so easy to give up, at need; and Robert wouldn't sleep, +I think, if an unpaid bill dragged itself by any chance into another +week. He says that when people get into 'pecuniary difficulties,' his +'sympathies always go with the butchers and bakers.' So we keep out of +scrapes yet, you see.... + +Your grateful and most affectionate +BA. + +We have had the most delightful letter from Carlyle, who has the +goodness to say that not for years has a marriage occurred in his +private circle in which he so heartily rejoiced as in ours. He is a +personal friend of Robert's, so that I have reason to be very proud +and glad. + +Robert's best regards to you both always, and he is no believer in +magnetism (only _I_ am). Do mention Mr. C. Hanford's health. How +strange that he should come to witness my marriage settlement! Did you +hear? + +[Footnote 162: Miss Henrietta Barrett was engaged to Captain Surtees +Cook, an engagement of which her brothers, as well as her father, +disapproved, partly on the ground of insufficiency of income. +Ultimately the difficulty was solved in the same way as in the case of +Mrs. Browning.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: August 20, [1847], + +I have received your letter at last, my ever dearest Miss Mitford, not +the missing letter, but the one which comes to make up for it and to +catch up my thoughts, which were grumbling at high tide, I do assure +you.... As you observed last year (not without reason), these are the +days of marrying and giving in marriage. Mr. Horne, you see[163] ... +With all my heart I hope he may be very happy. Men risk a good deal in +marriage, though not as much as women do; and on the other hand, the +singleness of a man when his youth is over is a sadder thing than the +saddest which an unmarried woman can suffer. Nearly all my friends +of both sexes have been draining off into marriage these two years, +scarcely one will be left in the sieve, and I may end by saying that +I have happiness enough for my own share to be divided among them all +and leave everyone, contented. For me, I take it for pure magic, this +life of mine. Surely nobody was ever so happy before. I shall wake +some morning with my hair all dripping out of the enchanted bucket, +or if not we shall both claim the 'Flitch' next September, if you can +find one for us in the land of Cockaigne, drying in expectancy of the +revolution in Tennyson's 'Commonwealth.' Well, I don't agree with Mr. +Harness in admiring the lady of 'Locksley Hall.' I _must_ either pity +or despise a woman who could have married Tennyson and chose a common +man. If happy in her choice, I despise her. That's matter of opinion, +of course. You may call it matter of foolishness when I add that I +personally would rather be teased a little and smoked over a good deal +by a man whom I could look up to and be proud of, than have my feet +kissed all day by a Mr. Smith in boots and a waistcoat, and thereby +chiefly distinguished. Neither I nor another, perhaps, had quite a +right to expect a combination of qualities, such as meet, though, in +my husband, who is as faultless and pure in his private life as any +Mr. Smith of them all, who would not owe five shillings, who lives +like a woman in abstemiousness on a pennyworth of wine a day, never +touches a cigar even.... Do you hear, as we do, from Mr. Forster, that +his[164] new poem is his best work? As soon as you read it, let me +have your opinion. The subject seems almost identical with one of +Chaucer's. Is it not so? We have spent here the most delightful of +summers, notwithstanding the heat, and I begin to comprehend the +possibility of St. Lawrence's ecstasies on the gridiron. Very hot it +certainly has been and is, yet there have been cool intermissions; and +as we have spacious and airy rooms, and as Robert lets me sit all day +in my white dressing gown without a single masculine criticism, and +as we can step out of the window on a sort of balcony terrace which is +quite private and swims over with moonlight in the evenings, and as +we live upon water melons and iced water and figs and all manner of +fruit, we bear the heat with an angelic patience and felicity which +really are edifying. We tried to make the monks of Vallombrosa let +us stay with them for two months, but their new abbot said or +implied that Wilson and I stank in his nostrils, being women, and San +Gualberto, the establishes of their order, had enjoined on them only +the mortification of cleaning out pigsties without fork or shovel. +So here a couple of women besides was (as Dickens's American said) 'a +piling it up rayther too mountainious.' So we were sent away at the +end of five days. So provoking! Such scenery, such hills, such a +sea of hills looking alive among the clouds. _Which_ rolled, it was +difficult to discern. Such pine woods, supernaturally silent, with the +ground black as ink, such chestnut and beech forests hanging from the +mountains, such rocks and torrents, such chasms and ravines. There +were eagles there, too, [and] there was _no road_. Robert went on +horseback, and Flush, Wilson, and I were drawn in a sledge (i.e. +an old hamper, a basket wine hamper without a wheel) by two white +bullocks up the precipitous mountains. Think of my travelling in that +fashion in those wild places at four o'clock in the morning, a little +frightened, dreadfully tired, but in an ecstasy of admiration above +all! It was a sight to see before one died and went away to another +world. Well, but being expelled ignominiously at the end of five days, +we had to come back to Florence, and find a new apartment cooler than +the old, and wait for dear Mr. Kenyon. And dear Mr. Kenyon does +not come (not this autumn, but he may perhaps at the first dawn of +spring), and on September 20 we take up our knapsacks and turn our +faces towards Rome, I think, creeping slowly along, with a pause at +Arezzo, and a longer pause at Perugia, and another perhaps at Terni. +Then we plan to take an apartment we have heard of, over the Tarpeian +Rock, and enjoy Rome as we have enjoyed Florence. More can scarcely +be. This Florence is unspeakably beautiful, by grace both of nature +and art, and the wheels of life slide on upon the grass (according +to continental ways) with little trouble and less expense. Dinner, +'unordered,' comes through the streets and spreads itself on our +table, as hot as if we had smelt cutlets hours before. The science +of material life is understood here and in France. Now tell me, what +right has England to be the dearest country in the world? But I love +dearly dear England, and we hope to spend many a green summer in her +yet. The winters you will excuse us, will you not? People who are, +like us, neither rich nor strong, claim such excuses. I am wonderfully +well, and far better and stronger than before what you call the Pisan +'crisis.' Robert declares that nobody would know me, I _look_ so much +better. And you heard from dearest Henrietta. Ah, both of my dearest +sisters have been perfect to me. No words can express my feelings +towards their goodness. Otherwise, I have good accounts from home of +my father's excellent health and spirits, which is better even than +to hear of his loving and missing me. I had a few kind lines yesterday +from Miss Martineau, who invites us from Florence to Westmoreland. She +wants to talk to me, she says, of 'her beloved Jordan.' She is +looking forward to a winter of work by the lakes, and to a summer of +gardening. The kindest of letters Robert has had from Carlyle, who +makes us very happy by what he says of our marriage. Shakespeare's +favorite air of the 'Light of Love,' with the full evidence of +its being Shakespeare's favorite air, is given in Charles Knight's +edition. Seek for it there. Now do write to me and at length, and tell +me everything of yourself. Flush hated Vallombrosa, and was frightened +out of his wits by the pine forests. Flush likes civilised life, and +the society of little dogs with turned-up tails, such as Florence +abounds with. Unhappily it abounds also with _fleas_, which afflict +poor Flush to the verge sometimes of despair. Fancy Robert and me +down on our knees combing him, with a basin of water on one side! He +suffers to such a degree from fleas that I cannot bear to witness it. +He tears off his pretty curls through the irritation. Do you know of a +remedy? Direct to me, Poste Restante, Florence. Put _via_ France. Let +me hear, do; and everything of yourself, mind. Is Mrs. Partridge in +better spirits? Do you read any new French books? Dearest friend, let +me offer you my husband's cordial regards, with the love of your own +affectionate + +E.B.B., BA. + +[Footnote 163: Mr. Horne was just engaged to be married.] + +[Footnote 164: Tennyson's _Princess_ had just been published.] + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +Florence: September 1847. + +Yes, indeed, my dear Mr. Westwood, I have seen 'friars.' We have been +on a pilgrimage to Vallombrosa, and while my husband rode up and down +the precipitous mountain paths, I and my maid and Flush were dragged +in a hamper by two white bullocks--and such scenery; such hilly peaks, +such black ravines and gurgling waters, and rocks and forests above +and below, and at last such a monastery and such friars, who wouldn't +let us stay with them beyond five days for fear of corrupting the +fraternity. The monks had a new abbot, a St. Sejanus of a holy +man, and a petticoat stank in his nostrils, said he, and all the I +beseeching which we could offer him with joined hands was classed with +the temptations of St. Anthony. So we had to come away as we went, and +get the better as we could of our disappointment, and really it was +a disappointment not to be able to stay our two months out in the +wilderness as we had planned it, to say nothing of the heat of +Florence, to which at the moment it was not pleasant to return. But +we got new lodgings in the shade and comforted ourselves as well as we +could. 'Comforted'--there's a word for Florence--that ingratitude was +a slip of the pen, believe me. Only we had set our hearts upon a two +months' seclusion in the deep of the pine forests (which have such +a strange dialect in the silence they speak with), and the mountains +were divine, and it was provoking to be crossed in our ambitions by +that little holy abbot with the red face, and to be driven out of +Eden, even to Florence. It is said, observe, that Milton took his +description of Paradise from Vallombrosa--so driven out of Eden we +were, literally. To Florence, though! and what Florence is, the tongue +of man or poet may easily fail to describe. The most beautiful of +cities, with the golden Arno shot through the breast of her like an +arrow, and 'non dolet' all the same. For what helps to charm here +is the innocent gaiety of the people, who, for ever at feast day and +holiday celebrations, come and go along the streets, the women in +elegant dresses and with glittering fans, shining away every thought +of Northern cares and taxes, such as make people grave in England. +No little orphan on a house step but seems to inherit, naturally +his slice of water-melon and bunch of purple grapes, and the rich +fraternise with the poor as we are unaccustomed to see them, listening +to the same music and walking in the same gardens, and looking at the +same Raphaels even! Also we were glad to be here just now, when there +is new animation and energy given to Italy by this new wonderful +Pope, who is a great man and doing greatly. I hope you give him your +sympathies. Think how seldom the liberation of a people begins from +the throne, _à fortiori_ from a papal throne, which is so high and +straight.[165] And the spark spreads! here is even our Grand +Duke conceding the civic guard,[166] and forgetting his Austrian +prejudices. The world learns, it is pleasant to observe.... + +So well I am, dear Mr. Westwood, and so happy after a year's trial of +the stuff of marriage, happier than ever, perhaps, and the revolution +is so complete that one has to learn to stand up straight and steadily +(like a landsman in a sailing ship) before one can do any work with +one's hand and brain. + +We have had a delightful letter from Carlyle, who loves my husband, I +am proud to say. + + [Footnote 165:'This country saving is a glorious thing: + And if a common man achieved it? well. + Say, a rich man did? excellent. A king? + That grows sublime. A priest? Improbable. + A pope? Ah, there we stop, and cannot bring + Our faith up to the leap, with history's bell + + So heavy round the neck of it--albeit + We fain would grant the possibility + For thy sake, Pio Nono!' + +_Casa Guidi Windows_, part i.] + +[Footnote 166: The grant of a National Guard was made by the Grand +Duke of Tuscany on September 4, 1847, in defiance of the threat of +Austria to occupy any Italian state in which such a concession was +made to popular aspirations.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +[Florence:] October I, 1847 [postmark]. + +Ever dearest Miss Mitford,--I am delighted to have your letter, and +lose little time in replying to it. The lost letter meanwhile does not +appear. The moon has it, to make more shine on these summer nights; if +still one may say 'summer' now that September is deep and that we are +cool as people hoped to be when at hottest.... Do tell me your full +thought of the commonwealth of women.[168] I begin by agreeing with +you as to his implied under-estimate of women; his women are +too voluptuous; however, of the most refined voluptuousness. His +gardener's daughter, for instance, is just a rose: and 'a Rose,' +one might beg all poets to observe, is as precisely _sensual_ as +fricasseed chicken, or even boiled beef and carrots. Did you read Mrs. +Butler's 'Year of Consolation,' and how did you think of it in the +main? As to Mr. Home's illustrations of national music, I don't know; +I feel a little jealous of his doing well what many inferior men have +done well--men who couldn't write 'Orion' and the 'Death of Marlowe.' +Now, dearest dear Miss Mitford, you shall call him 'tiresome' if you +like, because I never heard him talk, and he may be tiresome for aught +I know, of course; but you _sha'n't_ say that he has not done some +fine things in poetry. Now, you _know_ what the first book of 'Orion' +is, and 'Marlowe,' and 'Cosmo;' and you _sha'n't_ say that you don't +know it, and that when you forgot it for a moment, I did not remind +you.... It was our plan to leave Florence on the 21st. We stay, +however, one month longer, half through temptation, half through +reason. Which is strongest, who knows? We quite love Florence, and +have delightful rooms; and then, though I am quite well now as to my +general health, it is thought better for me to travel a month hence. +So I suppose we shall stay. In the meanwhile our Florentines kept the +anniversary of our wedding day (and the establishment of the civic +guard) most gloriously a day or two or three ago, forty thousand +persons flocking out of the neighbourhood to help the expression of +public sympathy and overflowing the city. The procession passed under +our eyes into the Piazza Pitti, where the Grand Duke and all his +family stood at the palace window melting into tears, to receive the +thanks of his people. The joy and exultation on all sides were most +affecting to look upon. Grave men kissed one another, and grateful +young women lifted up their children to the level of their own smiles, +and the children themselves mixed their shrill little _vivas_ with +the shouts of the people. At once, a more frenetic gladness and a more +innocent manifestation of gladness were never witnessed. During three +hours and a half the procession wound on past our windows, and every +inch of every house seemed alive with gazers all that time, the white +handkerchiefs fluttering like doves, and clouds of flowers and laurel +leaves floating down on the heads of those who passed. Banners, too, +with inscriptions to suit the popular feeling--'Liberty'--the 'Union +of Italy'--the 'Memory of the Martyrs'--'Viva Pio Nono'--'Viva +Leopoldo Secondo'--were quite stirred with the breath of the shouters. +I am glad to have seen that sight, and to be in Italy at this moment, +when such sights are to be seen.[167] My wrist aches a little even now +with the waving I gave to my handkerchief, I assure you, for Robert +and I and Flush sate the whole sight out at the window, and would not +be reserved with the tribute of our sympathy. Flush had his two +front paws over the window sill, with his ears hanging down, but he +confessed at last that he thought they were rather long about it, +particularly as it had nothing to do with dinner and chicken bones +and subjects of consequence. He is less tormented and looks better; +in excellent spirits and appetite always--and _thinner_, like your +Flush--and very fond of Robert, as indeed he ought to be. On the +famous evening of that famous day I have been speaking of, we lost +him--he ran away and stayed away all night--which was too bad, +considering that it was our anniversary besides, and that he had no +right to spoil it. But I imagine he was bewildered with the crowd and +the illumination, only as he _did_ look so very guilty and conscious +of evil on his return, there's room for suspecting him of having been +very much amused, 'motu proprio,' as our Grand Duke says in the +edict. He was found at nine o'clock in the morning at the door of our +apartment, waiting to be let in--mind, I don't mean the Grand Duke. +Very few acquaintances have we made at Florence, and very quietly +lived out our days. Mr. Powers the sculptor is our chief friend and +favorite, a most charming, simple, straight-forward, genial American, +as simple as the man of genius he has proved himself needs be. He +sometimes comes to talk and take coffee with us, and we like him much. +His wife is an amiable woman, and they have heaps of children from +thirteen downwards, all, except the eldest boy, Florentines, and the +sculptor has eyes like a wild Indian's, so black and full of light. +You would scarcely wonder if they clave the marble without the help of +his hands. We have seen besides the Hoppners, Lord Byron's friends at +Venice, you will remember. And Miss Boyle, the niece of the Earl +of Cork, and authoress and poetess on her own account, having been +introduced once to Robert in London at Lady Morgan's, has hunted +us out and paid us a visit. A very vivacious little person, with +sparkling talk enough. Lord Holland has lent her mother and herself +the famous Careggi Villa, where Lorenzo the Magnificent died, and they +have been living there among the vines these four months. These and a +few American visitors are all we have seen at Florence. We live a +far more solitary life than you do, in your village and with +the 'prestige' of the country wrapping you round. Pray give your +sympathies to our Pope, and call him a great man. For liberty +to spring from a throne is wonderful, but from a papal throne is +miraculous. That's my doxy. I suppose dear Mr. Kenyon and Mr. Chorley +are still abroad. French books I get at, but at scarcely a new one, +which is very provoking. At Rome it may be better. I have not read +'Martin' even, since the first volume in England, nor G. Sand's +'Lucretia.' + +May God bless you. Think sometimes of your ever affectionate + +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 167: In Tennyson's _Princess_.] + +[Footnote 168: A picture of the same scene in verse will be found in +_Casa Guidi Windows_, part i.: + + 'Shall I say + What made my heart beat with exulting love + A few weeks back,' &c.] + +The 'month' lengthened itself out, and December found the Brownings +still in Florence, and definitely established there for the winter. +During this time, although there is no allusion to it in the letters, +Mrs. Browning must have been engaged in writing the first part of +'Casa Guidi Windows' with its hopeful aspirations for Italian liberty. +It was, indeed, a time when hope seemed justifiable. Pius IX. had +ascended the papal throne--then a temporal as well as a spiritual +sovereignty--in June 1846, with the reputation of being anxious to +introduce liberal reforms, and even to promote the formation of a +united Italy. The English Government was diplomatically advocating +reform, in spite of the opposition of Austria; and its representative, +Lord Minto, who was sent on a special mission to Italy to bring this +influence to bear on the rulers of the various Italian States, was +received with enthusiastic joy by the zealots for Italian liberty. The +Grand Duke of Tuscany, as was noticed above, had taken the first +step in the direction of popular government by the institution of a +National Guard; and Charles Albert of Piedmont was always supposed to +have the cause of Italy at heart in spite of the vacillations of his +policy. The catastrophe of 1848 was still in the distance; and for +the moment a friend of freedom and of Italy might be permitted to hope +much. + +Yet a difference will be noticed between the tone of Mrs. Browning's +letters at this time and that which marks her language in 1859. In +1847 she was still comparatively new to the country. She is interested +in the experiment which she sees enacted before her; she feels, as any +poet must feel, the attraction of the idea of a free and united Italy. +But her heart is not thrown into the struggle as it was at a later +time. She can write, and does, for the most part, write, of other +matters. The disappointment of Milan and Novara could not break her +heart, as the disappointment of Villafranca went near to doing. They +are not, indeed, so much as mentioned in detail in the letters that +follow. It is in 'Casa Guidi Windows'--the first part written +in 1847-8, the second in 1851--that her reflections upon Italian +politics, alike in their hopes and in their failures, must be sought. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: December 8, 1847. + +Have you thought me long, my dearest Miss Mitford, in writing? When +your letter came we were distracted by various uncertainties, torn by +wild horses of sundry speculations, and then, when one begins by delay +in answering a letter, you are aware how a silence grows and grows. +Also I heard _of_ you through my sisters and Mrs. Duprey[?], and +_that_ made me lazier still. Now don't treat me according to the +Jewish law, an eye for an eye; no! but a heart for a heart, if you +please; and you never can have reason to reproach mine for not loving +you. Think what we have done since I wrote last to you. Taken two +houses, that is, two apartments, each for six months, presigning the +contract. You will set it down as excellent poet's work in the way of +domestic economy; but the fault was altogether mine as usual, and +my husband, to please me, took rooms which I could not be pleased +by three days, through the absence of sunshine and warmth. The +consequence was that we had to pay heaps of guineas away for leave +to go away ourselves, any alternative being preferable to a return of +illness, and I am sure I should have been ill if we had persisted in +staying there. You can scarcely fancy the wonderful difference which +the sun makes in Italy. Oh, he isn't a mere 'round O' in the air in +this Italy, I assure you! He makes us feel that he rules the day to +all intents and purposes. So away we came into the blaze of him here +in the Piazza Pitti, precisely opposite the Grand Duke's palace, I +with my remorse, and poor Robert without a single reproach. Any other +man, a little lower than the angels, would have stamped and sworn a +little for the mere relief of the thing, but as to _his_ being angry +with _me_ for any cause, except not eating enough dinner, the said +sun would turn the wrong way first. So here we are on the Pitti till +April, in small rooms yellow with sunshine from morning to evening; +and most days I am able to get out into the piazza, and walk up and +down for some twenty minutes without feeling a shadow of breath from +the actual winter. Also it is pleasant to be close to the Raffaels, +to say nothing of the immense advantage of the festa days, when, +day after day, the civic guard comes to show the whole population of +Florence, their Grand Duke inclusive, the new helmets and epaulettes +and the glory thereof. They have swords, too, I believe, somewhere. +The crowds come and come, like children to see rows of dolls, only the +children would tire sooner than the Tuscans. Robert said musingly the +other morning as we stood at the window, 'Surely, after all this, they +would _use_ those muskets.' It's a problem, a 'grand peut-être.' I +was rather amused by hearing lately that our civic heroes had the +gallantry to propose to the ancient military that these last should +do the night work, i.e. when nobody was looking on and there was no +credit, as they found it dull and fatiguing. Ah, one laughs, you see; +one can't help it now and then. But at the real and rising feeling of +the people by night and day one doesn't laugh indeed. I hear and +see with the deepest sympathy of soul, on the contrary. I love the +Italians, too, and none the less that something of the triviality and +innocent vanity of children abounds in them. A delightful and most +welcome letter was the last you sent me, my dearest friend. Your +bridal visit must have charmed you, and I am glad you had the gladness +of witnessing some of the happiness of your friend, Mrs. Acton Tyndal, +_you_ who have such quick sympathies, and to whom the happiness of a +friend is a gain counted in your own. The swan's shadow is something +in a clear water. For poor Mrs.----, if she is really, as you say Mrs. +Tyndal thinks, pining in an access of literary despondency, why _that_ +only proves to me that she is not happy otherwise, that her life +and soul are not sufficiently filled for her woman's need. I cannot +believe of any woman that she can think of _fame first_. A woman of +genius may be absorbed, indeed, in the exercise of an active power, +engrossed in the charges of the course and the combat; but this is +altogether different to a vain and bitter longing for prizes, and what +prizes, oh, gracious heavens! The empty cup of cold metal! _so_ cold, +_so_ empty to a woman with a heart. So, if your friend's belief is +true, still more deeply do I pity that other friend, who is supposed +to be unhappy from such a cause. A few days ago I saw a bride of +my own family, Mrs. Reynolds, Arlette Butler, who married Captain +Reynolds some five months since.... Many were her exclamations at +seeing me. She declared that such a change was never seen, I was +so transfigured with my betterness: 'Oh, Ba, it is quite wonderful +indeed!' We had been calculated on, during her three months in Rome, +as a 'piece of resistance,' and it was a disappointment to find us +here in a corner with the salt. Just as I was praised was poor Flush +criticised. Flush has not recovered from the effects yet of the summer +plague of fleas, and his curls, though growing, are not grown. I never +saw him in such spirits nor so ugly; and though Robert and I flatter +ourselves upon 'the sensible improvement,' Arlette could only see him +with reference to the past, when in his Wimpole Street days he was +sleek and over fat, and she cried aloud at the loss of his beauty. +Then we have had [another] visitor, Mr. Hillard, an American critic, +who reviewed me in [the old] world, and so came to _view_ me in the +new, a very intelligent man, of a good, noble spirit. And Miss Boyle, +ever and anon, comes at night, at nine o'clock, to catch us at our +hot chestnuts and mulled wine, and warm her feet at our fire; and +a kinder, more cordial little creature, full of talent and +accomplishment, never had the world's polish on it. Very amusing, too, +she is, and original, and a good deal of laughing she and Robert make +between them. Did I tell you of her before, and how she is the niece +of Lord Cork, and poetess by grace of certain Irish Muses? Neither +of us know her writings in any way, but we like her, and for the best +reasons. And this is nearly all, I think, we see of the 'face divine,' +masculine and feminine, and I can't make Robert go out a single +evening, not even to a concert, nor to hear a play of Alfieri's, yet +we fill up our days with books and music (and a little writing has +its share), and wonder at the clock for galloping. It's twenty-four +o'clock with us almost as soon as we begin to count. Do tell me of +Tennyson's book, and of Miss Martineau's. I was grieved to hear a +distant murmur of a rumour of an apprehension of a return of her +complaint: somebody said that she could not bear the _pressure of +dress_, and that the exhaustion resulting from the fits of absorption +in work and enthusiasm on the new subject of Egypt was painfully +great, and that her friends feared for her. I should think that the +bodily excitement and fatigue of her late travels must have been +highly hazardous, and that indeed, throughout her convalescence, she +should have more spared herself in climbing hills and walking and +riding distances. A strain obviously might undo everything. Still, I +do hope that the bitter cup may not be filled for her again. What a +wonderful discovery this substitute for ether inhalations[169] seems +to be. Do you hear anything of its operation in your neighbourhood? We +have had a letter from Mr. Horne, who appears happy, and speaks of his +success in lecturing on Ireland, and of a new novel which he is about +to publish in a separate form after having printed it in a magazine. +We have not set up the types even of our _plans_ about a book, very +distinctly, but we shall do something some day, and you shall hear +of it the evening before. Being too happy doesn't agree with literary +activity quite as well as I should have thought; and then, dear Mr. +Kenyon can't persuade us that we are not rich enough, so as to bring +into force a lower order of motives. He talks of Rome still. Now +write, dear, dearest Miss Mitford, and tell me of yourself and your +health, and do, _do_ love me as you used to do. As to French books, +one may swear, but you can't get a new publication, except by +accident, at this excellent celebrated library of Vieusseux, and I +am reduced to read some of my favorites over again, I and Robert +together. You ought to hear how we go to single combat, ever and anon, +with shield and lance. The greatest quarrel we have had since our +marriage, by the way (always excepting my crying conjugal wrong of not +eating enough!), was brought up by Masson's pamphlet on the Iron Mask +and Fouquet. I wouldn't be persuaded that Fouquet was 'in it,' and +so 'the anger of my lord waxed hot.' To this day he says sometimes: +'Don't be cross, Ba! _Fouquet wasn't the Iron Mask after all_.' + +God bless you, dearest Miss Mitford. +Your ever affectionate +E.B.B. + +We are here till April. + +[Footnote 169: Chloroform, then beginning to come into use.] + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +Florence: December 1847. + +Indeed, my dear friend, you have a right to complain of _me_, whether +or not _we_ had any in thinking ourselves deeply injured creatures +by your last silence. Yet when in your letter which came at last, you +said, 'Write directly,' I _meant_ to write directly; I did not take +out my vengeance in a foregone malice, be very sure. Just at the time +we were in a hard knot of uncertainties about Rome and Venice and +Florence, and a cold house and a warm house; for instance we managed +(that is _I_ did, for altogether it was my fault) to take two +apartments in the course of ten days, each for a term of six months, +getting out of one of them by leaving the skirts of our garments, +_rent_, literally, in the hand of the proprietor. You have heard most +of this, I dare say, from Mr. Kenyon or my sisters. Now, too, you are +aware of our being in Piazza Pitti, in a charmed circle of sun blaze. +Our rooms are small, but of course as cheerful as being under the very +eyelids of the sun must make everything; and we have a cook in the +house who takes the office of _traiteur_ on him and gives us English +mutton chops at Florentine prices, both of us quite well and in +spirits, and (though you never will believe this) happier than ever. +For my own part, you know I need not say a word if it were not true, +and I must say to you, who saw the beginning with us, that this end of +fifteen months is just fifteen times better and brighter; the mystical +'moon' growing larger and larger till scarcely room is left for any +stars at all: the only differences which have touched me being the +more and more happiness. It would have been worse than unreasonable if +in marrying I had expected one quarter of such happiness, and indeed I +did not, to do myself justice, and every now and then I look round +in astonishment and thankfulness together, yet with a sort of horror, +seeing that this is not heaven after all. We live just as we did when +you knew us, just as shut-up a life. Robert never goes anywhere except +to take a walk with Flush, which isn't my fault, as you may imagine: +he has not been out one evening of the fifteen months; but what with +music and books and writing and talking, we scarcely know how the days +go, it's such a gallop on the grass. We are going through some of +old Sacchetti's novelets now: characteristic work for Florence, if +somewhat dull elsewhere. Boccaccios can't be expected to spring up +with the vines in rows, even in this climate. We got a newly printed +addition to Savonarola's poems the other day, very flat and cold, they +did not catch fire when he was burnt. The most poetic thing in the +book is his face on the first page, with that eager, devouring soul in +the eyes of it. You may suppose that I am able sometimes to go over +to the gallery and adore the Raphaels, and Robert will tell you of the +divine Apollino which you missed seeing in Poggio Imperiale, and which +I shall be set face to face before, some day soon, I hope.... + +Father Prout was in Florence for some two hours in passing to Rome, +and of course, according to contract of spirits of the air, Robert met +him, and heard a great deal of you and Geddie (saw Geddie's picture, +by the way, and thought it very like), was told much to the advantage +of Mr. Macpherson,[170] and at the end of all, kissed in the open +street as the speaker was about to disappear in the diligence. When +you write, tell me of the _book_. Surely it will be out anon, and then +you will be free, shall you not? Have you seen Tennyson's new poem, +and what of it? Miss Martineau is to discourse about Egypt, I suppose; +but in the meanwhile do you hear that she forswears mesmerism, as Mr. +Spenser Hall does, according to the report Robert brings me home from +the newspaper reading. Now I shall leave him room to stand on and +speak a word to you. Give my love to Gerardine, and don't forget to +mention her letter. I hope you are happy about your friends, and that, +in particular, Lady Byron's health is strengthening and to strengthen. +Always my dear friend's + +Most affectionate +E.B.B. + +Dear Aunt Nina,--A corner is just the place for eating Christmas pies +in, but for venting Christmas wishes, hardly! What has Ba told you and +wished you in the way of love? I wish you the same and love you the +same, but Geddie, being part of you, gets her due part. We are as +happy as two owls in a hole, two toads under a tree stump; or any +other queer two poking creatures that we let live, after the fashion +of their black hearts, only Ba is fat and rosy; yes, indeed! Florence +is empty and pleasant. Goodbye, therefore, till next year--shall it +not be then we meet? God bless you. R.B. + +[Footnote 170: Miss Bate's _fiancé_.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: February 22, [1848]. + +Your letter, my dearest friend, which was written, a part at least, +before Christmas, came lingering in long after the new year had seen +out its matins. Oh, I had wondered so, and wished so over the long +silence. My fault, perhaps in a measure, for I know how silent _I_ was +before. Yes, and you tell me of your having been unwell (bad news), +and of your dear Flush's death, which made me sorrowful for you, as +I might reasonably be. And now tell me more. Have you a successor to +him? Once you told me that one of the race was in training, but as you +say nothing now I am all in a doubt. Let me hear everything. If I had +been you, I think I should have preferred some quite other kind of +dog, as the unlikeness of a likeness would be apt to bring a pain to +me; but people can't reason about feelings, and feelings are like the +colour of eyes, not the same in different faces, however general may +be the proximity of noses.... The great subject with _everybody_ just +now is the new hope of Italy, and the liberal constitution, given +nobly by our good, excellent Grand Duke, whose praise is in all the +houses, streets, and piazzas. The other evening, the evening after the +gift, he went privately to the opera, was recognised, and in a burst +of triumph and a glory of waxen torches was brought back to the Pitti +by the people. I was undressing to go to bed, had my hair down over my +shoulders under Wilson's ministry, when Robert called me to look out +of the window and see. Through the dark night a great flock of stars +seemed sweeping up the piazza, but not in silence, nor with very +heavenly noises. The '_Evvivas_' were deafening. So glad I was. _I, +too_, stood at the window and clapped my hands. If ever Grand Duke +deserved benediction this Duke does. We hear that he was quite moved, +overpowered, and wept like a child. Nevertheless the most of Italy is +under the cloud, and God knows how all may end as the thunder ripens. +Now I mustn't, I suppose, write politics. Our plans about England are +afloat. Impossible to know what we shall do, but if not this summer, +the summer after _must_ help us to the sight of some beloved faces. It +will be a midsummer dream, and we shall return to winter in Italy. My +Flush is as well as ever, and perhaps gayer than ever I knew him. He +runs out in the piazza whenever he pleases, and plays with the dogs +when they are pretty enough, and wags his tail at the sentinels and +civic guard, and takes the Grand Duke as a sort of neighbour of his, +whom it is proper enough to patronise, but who has considerably less +inherent merit and dignity than the spotted spaniel in the alley +to the left. We have been reading over again 'André' and 'Leone +Leoni,'[171] and Robert is in an enthusiasm about the first. Happy +person, you are, to get so at new books. Blessed is the man who reads +Balzac, or even Dumas. I have got to admire Dumas doubly since that +fight and scramble for his brains in Paris. Now do think of me and +love me, and let me be as ever your affectionate + +BA. + +Robert's regards always. Say particularly how you are, and may God +bless you, dearest Miss Mitford, and make you happy. + +[Footnote 171: Novels by George Sand.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: April 15, [1848]. + +... My Flush has recovered his beauty, and is in more vivacious +spirits than I remember to have seen him. Still, the days come when he +will have no pleasure and plenty of fleas, poor dog, for Savonarola's +martyrdom here in Florence is scarcely worse than Flush's in the +summer. Which doesn't prevent his enjoying the spring, though, and +just now, when, by medical command, I drive out two hours every day, +his delight is to occupy the seat in the carriage opposite to Robert +and me, and look disdainfully on all the little dogs who walk afoot. +We drive day by day through the lovely Cascine (where the trees have +finished and spread their webs of full greenery, undimmed by the sun +yet), first sweeping through the city, past such a window where Bianca +Capello looked out to see the Duke go by,[172] and past such a door +where Lapo stood, and past the famous stone where Dante drew his chair +out to sit.[173] Strange, to have all that old-world life about us, +and the blue sky so bright besides, and ever so much talk on our lips +about the new French revolution, and the King of Prussia's cunning, +and the fuss in Germany and elsewhere. Not to speak of our own +particular troubles and triumphs in Lombardy close by. The English are +flying from Florence, by the way, in a helter skelter, just as they +always do fly, except (to do them justice) on a field of battle. The +family Englishman is a dreadful coward, be it admitted frankly. See +how they run from France, even to my dear excellent Uncle Hedley, who +has too many little girls in his household to stay longer at Tours. +Oh, I don't _blame_ him exactly. I only wish that he had waited a +little longer, the time necessary for being quite reassured. He has +great stakes in the country--a house at Tours and in Paris, and twenty +thousand pounds in the Rouen railway. But Florence will fall upon her +feet we may all be certain, let the worst happen that can. Meanwhile, +republicans as I and my, husband are by profession, we very anxiously, +anxiously even to pain, look on the work being attempted and done just +now by the theorists in Paris; far from half approving of it we are, +and far from being absolutely confident of the durability of the other +half. Tell me what you think, and if you are not anxious too. As to +communism, surely the practical part of _that_, the only not dangerous +part, is attainable simply by the consent of individuals who may try +the experiment of associating their families in order to the cheaper +employment of the means of life, and successfully in many cases. But +make a government scheme of _even so much_, and you seem to trench on +the individual liberty. All such patriarchal planning in a government +issues naturally into absolutism, and is adapted to states of society +more or less barbaric. Liberty and civilisation when married together +lawfully rather evolve individuality than tend to generalisation. +Is this not true? I fear, I fear that mad theories promising the +impossible may, in turn, make the people mad. I Louis Blanc knows +not what he says. Have I not mentioned to you a very gifted woman, a +sculptress, Mademoiselle de Fauveau, who lives in Florence with her +mother practising her profession, an exile from France, in consequence +of their royalist opinions and participation in the Vendée struggle, +some sixteen or fifteen years? On that occasion she was mistaken for +and allowed herself to be arrested as Madame de la Roche Jacquelin; +therefore she has justified, by suffering in the cause, her passionate +attachment to it. A most interesting person she is; she called upon us +a short time ago and interested us much. And Mrs. Jameson would tell +you that her celebrity in her art is not comparative 'for a woman,' +but that, since Benvenuto Cellini, more beautiful works of the kind +have not been accomplished. An exquisite fountain she has lately +done for the Emperor of Russia. She has workmen under her, and is as +'professional' in every respect as if neither woman nor noble. At the +first throb of this revolution of course she dreamt the impossible +about that dear 'Henri Cinq,' who is as much out of the question +as Henri Quatre himself; and now it ends with the 'French Legation' +coming to settle in the house precisely opposite to hers, with a +hideous sign-painting appended O the Gallic cock on one leg and at +full crow inscribed, 'Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.' This, and the +death of her favorite dog, whom, after seventeen years' affection, she +was forced to have destroyed on account of a combination of diseases, +has quite saddened the sculptress. When she came to see us I observed +that after so long a residence at Florence she must regard it as a +second country. 'Ah non!' (the answer was) 'il n'y a pas de seconde +patrie.' What you tell me of 'Jane Eyre' makes me long to see the +book. I may long, I fancy. It is dismal to have to disappoint my +dearest sisters, who hoped for me in England this summer, but our +English visit _must_ be for next summer instead; there seems too +much against it just now. The drawback of Italy is the distance from +England. If it were but as near as Paris, for instance, why in that +case we should settle here at once, I do think, the conveniences and +luxuries of life are of such incredible cheapness, the climate so +divine, and the way of things altogether so serene and suited to our +tastes and instincts. But to give up England and the _English_, the +dear, dearest treasure of English love, is impossible, so we just +linger and linger. The Boyles go to England from the press of panic, +Lady Boyle being old and infirm. Ah, but your talking friend would +interest you, and you might accept the talk in infinitesimal +doses, you know. Lamartine has surely acted down the fallacy of the +impractical tendencies of imaginative men. I am full of France just +now. Are you all prepared for an outbreak in Ireland? I hope so. My +husband has the second edition of his collected poems[174] in the +press by this time, by grace of Chapman and Hall, who accept all +risks. You speak of Tennyson's vexation about the reception of +the 'Princess.' Why did Mr. Harness and others, who 'never could +understand' his former divine works, praise this in manuscript +till the poet's hope grew to the height of his ambition? Strangely +unfortunate. We have not read it yet. I hear that Tennyson had the +other day everything packed for Italy, then turned his face toward +Ireland, and went there. Oh, for a talk with you. But this is a sort +of talk, isn't it? Accept my husband's regards. As to my love, I throw +it to you over the [sea] with both hands. God bless you. + +Your ever affectionate +BA. + +[Footnote 172: See Browning's _The Statue and the Bust_.] + +[Footnote 173: 'the stone Called Dante's--a plain flat stone scarce +discerned From others in the pavement--whereupon He used to bring his +quiet chair out, turned To Brunelleschi's church, and pour alone The +lava of his spirit when it burned.' _Casa Guidi Windows_, part i.] + +[Footnote 174: This edition, published in 1849 in two volumes +contained only _Paracelsus_ and the plays and poems of the _Bells and +Pomegranates_ series.] + + +_To John Kenyan_ +[Florence:] May I, [1848]. + +My dearest Mr. Kenyon,--Surely it is quite wrong that we three, +Robert, you, and I, should be satisfied with writing little dry notes, +as short as so many proclamations, and those of the order of your +anti-Chartist magistracy, 'Whereas certain evil disposed persons &c. +&c.,' instead of our anti-Austrian Grand duchy's 'O figli amati' +(how characteristic of the north and the south, to be sure, is this +contrast! Yet, after all, they might have managed it rather better +in England!)--little dry notes brief and business-like as an +anti-Chartist proclamation! And, indeed, two of us are by no means +satisfied, whatever the third may be. The other day we were looking +over some of the dear delightful letters you used to write to us. +Real letters those were, and not little dry notes at all. Robert said, +'When I write to dear Mr. Kenyon I really do feel overcome by the +sense of what I owe to him, and so, as it is beyond words to say, why +generally I say as little as possible of anything, keeping myself to +matters of business.' An alternative very objectionable, I told him; +for to have 'a dumb devil' from ever such grateful and sentimental +reasons, when the Alps stand betwixt friend, is damnatory in the +extreme. Then, as _you_ are not 'too grateful' to _us_, why don't +_you_ write? Pray do, my dear friend. Let us all write as we used to +do. And to make sure of it, I begin. + +Since I ended last the world has turned over on its other side, in +order, one must hope, to some happy change in the dream. Our friend, +Miss Bayley, in that very kind letter which has just reached me and +shall be answered directly (will you tell her with my thankful love?), +asks if Robert and I are communists, and then half draws back her +question into a discreet reflection that _I_, at least, was never +much celebrated for acumen on political economy. Most true indeed! And +therefore, and on that very ground, is it not the more creditable to +me that I don't set up for a communist immediately? In proportion to +the ignorance might be the stringency of the embrace of 'la vérité +sociale:' so I claim a little credit that it isn't. For really we +are not communists, farther than to admit the wisdom of voluntary +association in matters of material life among the poorer classes. And +to legislate even on such points seems as objectionable as possible; +all intermeddlings of government with domesticities, from Lacedaemon +to Peru, were and must be objectionable; and of the growth of +absolutism, let us, theorise as we choose. I would have the government +educate the people absolutely, and _then_ give room for the individual +to develop himself into life freely. Nothing can be more hateful to me +than this communist idea of quenching individualities in the mass. As +if the hope of the world did not always consist in the eliciting +of the individual man from the background of the masses, in the +evolvement of individual genius, virtue, magnanimity. Do you know how +I love France and the French? Robert laughs at me for the mania of it, +or used to laugh long before this revolution. When I was a prisoner, +my other mania for imaginative literature used to be ministered to +through the prison bars by Balzac, George Sand, and the like immortal +improprieties. They kept the colour in my life to some degree and did +good service in their time to me, I can assure you, though in dear +discreet England women oughtn't to confess to such reading, I believe, +or you told me so yourself one day. Well, but through reading the +books I grew to love France, in a mania too; and the interest, which +all must feel in the late occurrences there, has been with me, and is, +quite painful. I read the newspapers as I never did in my life, and +hope and fear in paroxysms, yes, and am guilty of thinking far more +of Paris than of Lombardy itself, and try to understand financial +difficulties and social theories with the best will in the world; +much as Flush tries to understand me when I tell him that barking and +jumping may be unseasonable things. Both of us open our eyes a good +deal, but the comprehension is questionable after all. What, however, +I do seem least of all to comprehend, is your hymn of triumph in +England, just because you have a lower ideal of liberty than the +French people have. See if in Louis Philippe's time France was not +in many respects more advanced than England is now, property better +divided, hereditary privilege abolished! Are we to blow with the +trumpet because we respect the ruts while everywhere else they are +mending the roads? I do not comprehend. As to the Chartists, it is +only a pity in my mind that you have not more of them. That's their +fault. Mine, you will say, is being pert about politics when you would +rather have anything else in a letter from Italy. You have heard of +my illness, and will have been sorry for me, I am certain; but with +blessings edging me round, I need not catch at a thistle in the hedge +to make a 'sorrowful complaignte' of. Our plans have floated round and +round, in and out of all the bays and creeks of the Happy Islands.... + +Meanwhile here we are--and when do you mean to come to see us, pray? +Mind, I hold by the skirts of the vision for next winter. Why, surely +_you_ won't talk of 'disturbances' and 'revolutions,' and the like +disloyal reasons which send our brave countrymen flying on all sides, +as if every separate individual expected to be bombarded _per +se_. Now, mind you come; dear dear Mr. Kenyon, how delighted past +expression we should be to see you! Ah, do you fancy that I have no +regret for our delightful gossips? If I have the feeling I told you of +for Balzac and George Sand, what must I have for _you_? Now come, +and let us see you! And still sooner, if you please, write to us--and +write of yourself and in detail--and tell us particularly, first if +the winter has left no sign of a cough with you, and next, what you +mean by something which suggests to my fancy that you have a book in +the course of printing. Is that true? Tell me all about it--_all_! Who +can be interested, pray, if _I_ am not? For your and Mr. Chorley's +and Mr. Forster's kind dealings with Robert's poems I thank you +gratefully; and as a third volume can bring up the rear quickly in the +case of success, I make no wailing for my 'Luria,' however dear it may +be.[175] + +[Illustration: _Casa Guidi From a Photograph_] + +You are not to fancy that I am unwell now. On the contrary, I am +nearly as strong as ever, and go out in the carriage for two hours +every day, besides a little walk sometimes. Not a word more to-day. +Write--do--and you shall hear from us at length. Robert sends his own +love, I suppose. We both love you from our hearts. + +Your ever affectionate and grateful +BA. +(who can't read over, and writes in such a hurry!) + +It was about this time, as appears from the following letter, that +the Brownings finally anchored themselves in Florence by taking an +unfurnished suite of rooms in the Palazzo Guidi, and making there +a home for themselves, Here, in the Via Maggio, almost opposite the +Pitti Palace, and within easy distance of the Ponte Vecchio, is the +dwelling known to all lovers of English poetry as Casa Guidi, and +bearing now upon its walls the name of the English poetess whose life +and writings formed, in the graceful words of the Italian poet, +'a golden ring between Italy and England.' Whatever might be their +migrations--and they were many, especially in later years--Casa Guidi +was henceforth their home.[176] + +[Footnote 175: Apparently it had been proposed to omit _Luria_ from +the new edition; but, if so, the intention was not carried out.] + +[Footnote 176: It will interest many readers to know that Casa Guidi +is now the property of Mr. R. Barrett Browning.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +May 28, 1848. + +... And now I must tell you what we have done since I wrote last, +little thinking of doing so. You see our problem was to get to England +as much in our summers as possible, the expense of the intermediate +journeys making it difficult of solution. On examination of the whole +case, it appeared manifest that we were throwing money into the like +to hear you talk of poor France; how I hope that you are able to hope +for her. Oh, this absurdity of communism and mythological fête-ism! +where can it end? They had better have kept Louis Philippe after +all, if they are no more practical. Your Madame must be insufferable +indeed, seeing that her knowledge of these subjects and men did not +make her sufferable to you. My curiosity never is exhausted. What I +hold is that the French have a higher ideal than we, and that all +this clambering, leaping, struggling of indefinite awkwardness simply +proves it. But _success in the republic_ is different still. I fear +for them. My uncle and his family are safe at Tunbridge Wells, my aunt +longing to be able to get back again. For those who are still nearer +to me, I have no heart to speak of _them_, loving them as I do and +must to the end, whatever that end may be; but my dearest sisters +write often to me--never let me miss their affection. I am quite well +again, and strong, and Robert and I go out after tea in a wandering +walk to sit in the Loggia and look at the Perseus, or, better still, +at the divine sunsets on the Arno, turning it to pure gold under the +bridges. After more than twenty months of marriage, we are happier +than ever--I may say _we_. Italy will regenerate herself in all +senses, I hope and believe. In Florence we are very quiet, and the +English fly in proportion. N.B.--_Always_ first fly the majors and +gallant captains, unless there's a general. How I should like to see +dear Mr. Horne's poem! _He's_ bold, at least--yes, and has a great +heart to be bold with. A cloud has fallen on me some few weeks ago, in +the illness and death of my dear friend Mr. Boyd,[177] but he did not +suffer, and is not to be mourned by those without hope [_sic_]. Still, +it has been a cloud. May God bless you, my beloved friend. Write soon, +and of yourself, to your ever affectionate + +BA. + +My husband's regards go to you, of course. + +[Footnote 177: Mr. Boyd died on May 10, 1848.] + + +_To Miss Browning_ +[Florence: about June 1848.] + +My dearest Sarianna,--At last, you see, I give sign of life. The +_love_, I hope you believed in without sign or symbol; and even +for the rest, Robert promised to answer for me like godfather or +godmother, and bear the consequence of my sins.... + +We are a little uneasy just now as to whether you will be overjoyed or +_under_ joyed by our new scheme of taking an unfurnished apartment. +It would spoil all, for instance, if your dear mother seemed +disappointed--vexed--in the least degree. And I can understand how, +to persons at a distance and of course unable to understand the +whole circumstances of the case, the fact of an apartment taken and +furnished may seem to involve some dreadful giving up for ever and +ever of country and family--which would be as dreadful to us as to +you! How could we give you up, do you think, when we love you more and +more? Oh no. If Robert has succeeded in making clear the subject to +you, you will all perceive, just as _we know_, that we have simply +thus solved the problem of making our small income carry us to +England, not only next summer, but many a summer after. We should like +to give every summer to dear England, and hide away from the cold only +when it comes. By our scheme we shall have saved money even at the end +of the present year; while for afterward, here's a residence--that is, +a_pied à terre_--in Italy, all but free when we wish to use it; and +when we care to let it, producing eight or ten pounds a month in help +of travelling expenses. It's the best investment for Mr. Moxon's money +we could have looked the world over for. So the learned tell us; and +after all, you know, we only pay in the proportion of your working +classes in the Pancras building contrived for them by the philanthropy +of your Southwood Smiths. I do wish you could see what rooms we have, +what ceilings, what height and breadth, what a double terrace for +orange trees; how cool, how likely to be warm, how perfect every way! +Robert leaned once to a ground floor in the Frescobaldi Palace, being +bewitched by a garden full of camellias, and a little pond of gold and +silver fish; but while he saw the fish I saw the mosquitos in clouds, +such an apocalypse of them as has not yet been visible to me in all +Florence, and I dread mosquitos more than Austrians; and he, in his +unspeakable goodness, deferred to my fear in a moment and gave up the +camellias without one look behind. A heavy conscience I should have if +it were not that the camellia garden was certainly less private than +our terrace here, where we can have camellias also if we please. How +pretty and pleasant your cottage at Windsor must be! We had a long +_muse_ over your father's sketch of it, and set faces at the windows. +That the dear invalid is better for the change must have brightened +it, too, to her companions, and the very sound of a 'forest' is +something peculiarly delightful and untried to me. I know hills well, +and of the sea too much; but now I want forests, or quite, quite +mountains, such as you have not in England. + +Robert says that if 'Blackwood' likes to print a poem of mine and send +you the proofs, you will be so very good as to like to correct them. +To me it seems too much to ask, when you have work for him to do +beside. Will it be too much, or is nothing so to your kindness? I +would ask my _other_ sisters, who would gladly, dear things, do it for +me; but I have misgivings through their being so entirely unaccustomed +to occupations of the sort, or any critical reading of poetry of +any sort. Robert is quite well and in the best spirits, and has the +headache now only very occasionally. I am as well as he, having quite +recovered my strength and power of walking. So we wander to the bridge +of Trinità every evening after tea to see the sunset on the Arno. May +God bless you all! Give my true love to your father and mother, and my +loving thanks to yourself for that last stitch in the stool. How good +you are, Sarianna, to your ever affectionate sister + +BA. + +Always remind your dear mother that we are no more _bound_ here than +when in furnished lodgings. It is a mere name. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Palazzo Guidi: June 20, [1848]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Now I am going to answer your letter, which I +all but lost, and got ever so many days beyond the right day, because +you directed it to Mrs. _William_ Browning. Pray remember +_Robert Browning_ for the future, in right descent from _Robert +Brunnyng_,[178] the first English poet. Mrs. Jameson says, 'It's +ominous of the actual Robert's being the _last_ English poet;' a +saying which I give you to remember us by, rejecting the omen.... +We have grown to be Florentine citizens, as perhaps you have heard. +Health and means both forbade our settlement in England; and the +journey backwards and forwards being another sort of expense, and very +necessary with our ties and affections, we had to think how to live +here, when we were here, at the cheapest. The difference between +taking a furnished apartment and an unfurnished one is something +immense. For our furnished rooms we have had always to pay some four +guineas a month; and unfurnished rooms of equal pretension we could +have for twelve a year, and the furniture (out and out) for fifty +pounds. This calculation, together with the consideration that we +could let our apartment whenever we travelled and receive back the +whole cost, could not choose, of course, but determine us. On coming +to the point, however, we grew ambitious, and preferred giving +five-and-twenty guineas for a noble suite of rooms in the Palazzo +Guidi, a stone's throw from the Pitti, and furnishing them after +our own taste rather than after our economy, the economy having a +legitimate share of respect notwithstanding; and the satisfactory +thing being that the whole expense of this furnishing--rococo chairs, +spring sofas, carved bookcases, satin from cardinals' beds, and the +rest--is covered by the proceeds of our books during the last two +winters. This is satisfying, isn't it? We shall stand safe within the +borders of our narrow income even this year, and next year comes the +harvest! We shall go to England in the spring, and return _home_ +to Italy. Do you understand? Mr. Kenyon, our friend and counsellor, +writes to applaud--such prudence was never known before among poets. +Then we have a plan, that when the summer (this summer) grows too hot, +we shall just take up our carpet-bag and Wilson and plunge into the +mountains in search of the monasteries beyond Vallombrosa, from +Arezzo go to St. Sepolchro in the Apennines, and thence to Fano on the +seashore, making a round back perhaps (after seeing the great fair at +Sinigaglia) to Ravenna and Bologna home. As to Rome, our plan is to +give up Rome next winter, seeing that we _must_ go to England in the +spring. I _must_ see my dearest sisters and whoever else dear will see +me, and Robert _must_ see his family beside; and going to Rome will +take us too far from the route and cost too much; and then we are not +inclined to give the first-fruits of our new apartment to strangers if +we could let it ever so easily this year. You can't think how well +the rooms look already; you must come and see them, you and dear Mr. +Martin. Three immense rooms we have, and a fourth small one for a +book room and winter room--windows opening on a little terrace, +eight windows to the south; two good bedrooms behind, with a smaller +terrace, and kitchen, &c., all on a first floor and Count Guidi's +favorite suite. The Guidi were connected by marriage with the Ugolino +of Pisa, Dante's Ugolino, only we shun all traditions of the Tower +of Famine, and promise to give you excellent coffee whenever you will +come to give us the opportunity. We shall have vines and myrtles +and orange trees on the terrace, and I shall have a watering-pot and +garden just as you do, though it must be on the bricks instead of the +ground. For temperature, the stoves are said to be very effective in +the winter, and in the summer we are cool and airy; the advantage +of these thick-walled palazzos is coolness in summer and warmth in +winter. I am very well and quite strong again, or rather, stronger +than ever, and able to walk as far as Cellini's Perseus in the +moonlight evenings, on the other side of the Arno. Oh, that Arno in +the sunset, with the moon and evening star standing by, how divine it +is!... + +Think of me as ever your most affectionate +BA. + +[Footnote 178: Otherwise known as Robert Mannyng, or Robert de Brunne, +author of the _Handlyng Synne_ and a _Chronicle of England_. He +flourished about 1288-1338.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: July 4, [1848]. + +It does grieve me, my ever dearest Miss Mitford, to hear of the +suffering which has fallen upon you! Oh, rheumatism or not, whatever +the name may be, do take care, do consider, and turn your dear face +toward the seaside; somewhere where you can have warm sea bathing +and sea air, and be able to associate the word 'a drive' not with mad +ponies, but the mildest of donkeys, on a flat sand. The good it would +do you is incalculable, I am certain; it is precisely a case for +change of air, with quiet.... + +As for when you come to Florence, we won't have 'a pony carriage +between us,' if you please, because we may have a carriage and a pair +of horses and a coachman, and pay as little as for the pony-chair in +England. For three hundred a year one may live much like the Grand +Duchess, and go to the opera in the evening at fivepence-halfpenny +inclusive. Indeed, poor people should have their patriotism tenderly +dealt with, when, after certain experiments, they decide on living +upon the whole on the Continent. The differences are past belief, +beyond expectation, and when the sunshine is thrown in, the head turns +at once, and you fall straight into absenteeism. Ah, for the 'long +chats' and the 'having England at one another's fireside!' You talk of +delightful things indeed. We are very quiet, politically speaking, +and though we hear now and then of melancholy mothers who have to part +with their sons for Lombardy,[179] and though there are processions +for the blessing of flags and an occasional firing of guns for a +victory, or a cry in the streets, 'Notizie della guerra--leggete, +signori;' this is all we know of Radetsky in Florence; while, for +civil politics, the meeting of the senate took place a few days since +to the satisfaction of everybody, and the Grand Duke's speech was +generally admired. The elections have returned moderate men, and many +land-proprietors, and Robert, who went out to see the procession of +members, was struck by the grave thoughtful faces and the dignity +of expression. We are going some day to hear the debates, but it has +pleased their signoria to fix upon twelve (noon) for meeting, and +really I do not dare to go out in the sun. The hour is sufficiently +conclusive against dangerous enthusiasm. Poor France, poor France! +News of the dreadful massacre at Paris just reaches us, and the +letters and newspapers not arriving to-day, everybody fears a +continuation of the crisis. How is it to end? Who 'despairs of the +republic?' Why, _I_ do! I fear, I fear, that it cannot stand in +France, and you seem to have not much more hope. My husband has a +little, with melancholy intermediate prospects; but my own belief +that the people have had enough of democratic institutions and will be +impatient for a kingship anew. Whom will they have? How did you feel +when the cry was raised, 'Vive l'Empereur'? Only Prince Napoleon is a +Napoleon cut out in paper after all. The Prince de Joinville is said +to be very popular. It makes me giddy to think of the awful precipices +which surround France--to think, too, that the great danger is on the +question of _property_, which is perhaps divided there more justly +than in any other country of Europe. Lamartine has comprehended +nothing, that is clear, even if his amount of energy had been +effectual.... Yes, do send me the list of Balzac, _after_ 'Les Misères +de la Vie Conjugale,' I mean. I left him in the midst of 'La Femme de +Soixante Ans,' who seemed on the point of turning the heads of all +'la jeunesse' around her; and, after all, she did not strike me as so +charming. But Balzac charms me, let him write what he will; he's an +inspired man. Tell me, too, exactly what Sue has done after 'Martin.' +I read only one volume of 'Martin.' And did poor Soulié finish his +'Dramas'? And after 'Lucretia' what did George Sand write? When Robert +and I are ambitious, we talk of buying Balzac in full some day, to put +him up in our bookcase from the convent, if the carved-wood angels, +infants and serpents, should not finish mouldering away in horror at +the touch of him. But I fear it will rather be an expensive purchase, +even here. Would that he gave up the drama, for which, as you observe, +he has no faculty whatever. In fact, the faculty he has is the very +reverse of the dramatic, ordinarily understood.... Dearest Mr. Kenyon +is called quite well and delightful by the whole world, though he +suffered from cough in the winter; and he is bringing out a new book +of poems, a 'Day at Tivoli,' and others; and he talks energetically of +coming to Florence this autumn. Also, we have hopes of Mr. Chorley. I +congratulate you on the going away of Madame. Coming and going bring +very various associations in this life of ours. Why, if _you_ were +to come we should appreciate our fortune, and you should have my +particular chair, which Robert calls mine because I like sitting in a +cloud; it's so sybaritically soft a chair. Now I love you for the kind +words you say of _him_, who deserves the best words of the best women +and men, wherever spoken! Yes, indeed, I am happy. Otherwise, I should +have a stone where the heart is, and sink by the weight of it. +You must have faith in me, for I never can make you thoroughly +to understand what he is, of himself, and to me--the noblest and +perfectest of human beings. After a year and ten months' absolute +soul-to-soul intercourse and union, I have to look higher still for my +first ideal. You won't blame me for bad taste that I say these things, +for can I help it, when I am writing my heart to you? It is a heart +which runs over very often with a grateful joy for a most peculiar +destiny, even in the midst of some bitter drawbacks which I need not +allude to farther.... + +May God bless you continually, even as I am + +Your affectionate +BA. + +[Footnote 179: The insurrection of Lombardy against Austrian rule +had taken place in March, and was immediately followed by war between +Sardinia and Austria, in which the Italians gained some initial +successes. Fighting continued through the summer, and was temporarily +closed by an armistice in August.] + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +Palazzo Guidi: July 15, [1848]. + +Now at last, my very dear friend, I am writing to you, and the +reproach you sent to me in your letter shall not be driven inwardly +any more by my self-reproaches. Wasn't it your fault after all, a +little, that we did not hear one another's voice oftener? You are +_so long_ in writing. Then I have been putting off and putting off my +letter to you, just because I wanted to make a full letter of it; and +Robert always says that it's the bane of a correspondence to make a +full letter a condition of writing at all. But so much I had to tell +you! while the mere outline of facts you had from others, I knew. +Which is just said that you may forgive us both, and believe that we +think of you and love you, yes, and talk of you, even when we don't +write to you, and that we shall write to you for the future more +regularly, indeed. Your letter, notwithstanding its reproach, was +very welcome and very kind, only you must be fagged with the book, and +saddened by Lady Byron's state of health, and anxious about Gerardine +perhaps. The best of all was the prospect you hold out to us of coming +to Italy this year. Do, do come. Delighted we shall be to see you in +Florence, and wise it will be in you to cast behind your back both the +fear of Radetsky and as much English care as may be. Now, would it not +do infinite good to Lady Byron if you could carry her with you into +the sun? Surely it would do her great good; the change, the calm, the +atmosphere of beauty and brightness, which harmonises so wonderfully +with every shade of human feeling. Florence just now, and thanks to +the panic, is tolerably _clean_ of the English--you scarcely see an +English face anywhere--and perhaps this was a circumstance that helped +to give Robert courage to take our apartment here and 'settle down.' +You were surprised at so decided a step I dare say, and, I believe, +though too considerate to say it in your letter, you have wondered in +your thoughts at our fixing at Florence instead of Rome, and without +seeing more of Italy before the finality of making a choice. But +observe, Florence is wonderfully cheap, one lives here for just +nothing; and the convenience in respect to England, letters, and +the facility of letting our house in our absence, is incomparable +altogether. At Rome a house would be habitable only half the year, and +the distance and the expense are objections at the first sight of the +subject.... Altogether, if I could but get a supply of French books, +turning the cock easily, it would be perfect; but as to _anything_ new +in the book way, Vieusseux seems to have made a vow against it, and +poor Robert comes and goes in a state of desperation between me and +the bookseller ('But what _can_ I do, Ba?'), and only brings news +of some pitiful revolution or other which promises a full flush of +republican virtues and falls off into the fleur de lis as usual. Think +of our not having read 'Lucretia' yet--George Sand's. And Balzac is +six or seven works deep from us; but these are evils to be borne. We +live on just in the same way, having very few visitors, and receiving +them in the quietest of hospitalities. Mr. Ware, the American, who +wrote the 'Letters from Palmyra,' and is a delightful, earnest, simple +person, comes to have coffee with us once or twice a week, and very +much we like him. Mr. Hillard, another cultivated American friend of +ours, you have in London, and we should gladly have kept longer. +Mr. Powers does not spend himself much upon visiting, which is quite +right, but we do hope to see a good deal of Mademoiselle de Fauveau. +Robert exceedingly admires her. As to Italian society, one may as +well take to longing for the evening star, for it seems quite as +inaccessible; and indeed, of society of any sort, we have not much, +nor wish for it, nor miss it. Dearest friend, if I could open my heart +to you in all seriousness, you would see nothing there but a sort +of enduring wonder of happiness--yes, and some gratitude, I do hope, +besides. Could everything be well in England, I should only have to +melt out of the body at once in the joy and the glow of it. Happier +and happier I have been, month after month; and when I hear _him_ talk +of being happy too, my very soul seems to swim round with feelings +which cannot be spoken. But I tell you a little, because I owe the +telling to you, and also that you may set down in your philosophy the +possibility of book-making creatures living happily together. I admit, +though, to begin (or end), that my husband is an exceptional human +being, and that it wouldn't be just to measure another by him. We +are planning a great deal of enjoyment in this 'going to the fair' at +Sinigaglia, meaning to go by Arezzo and San Sepolchro, and Urbino, to +Fano, where we shall pitch our tent for the benefit, as Robert says, +of the sea air and the oysters. Fano is very habitable, and we may +get to Pesaro and the footsteps of Castiglione's 'courtier,' to say +nothing of Bernardo Tasso; and Ancona beckons from the other side +of Sinigaglia, and Loreto beside, only we shall have to restrain +our flights a little. The passage of the Apennine is said to be +magnificent, and, altogether, surely it must be delightful; and we +take only two carpet bags--not to be weighed down by 'impedimenta,' +and have our own home, left in charge of the porter, to return to at +last, I am very well and shall be better for the change, though Robert +is dreadfully afraid, as usual, that I shall fall to pieces at the +first motion.... + +May God bless you! +Ever I am your affectionate +BA. + +Write to Florence as usual--Poste Restante. You will hear how we are +in great hopes of dear Mr. Kenyon. + +Dear Aunt Nina,--Only a word in all the hurry of setting off. We love +you as you love us, and are pretty nearly as happy as you would have +us. All love and prosperity to dear Geddie, too; what do you say of +'Landor,' and my not sending it to Forster or somebody? _Che che_ (as +the Tuscans exclaim), _who_ was it promised to call at my people's, +who would have tendered it forthwith? I will see about it as it is. +Goodbye, dearest aunt, and let no revolution disturb your good will to +Ba and + +R.B. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: August 24, 1848. + +Ever dearest Miss Mitford,--It's great comfort to have your letter; +for as it came more lingeringly than usual, I had time to be a little +anxious, and even my husband has confessed since that he thought what +he would not say aloud for fear of paining me, as to the probability +of your being less well than usual. Your letters come so regularly +to the hour, you see, that when it strikes without them, we ask why. +Thank God, you are better after all, and reviving in spirits, as I saw +at the first glance before the words said it clearly.... + +As for ourselves, we have scarcely done so well, yet well; having +enjoyed a great deal in spite of drawbacks. Murray, the traitor, sent +us to Fano as a 'delightful summer residence for an English family,' +and we found it uninhabitable from the heat, vegetation scorched with +paleness, the very air swooning in the sun, and the gloomy looks of +the inhabitants sufficiently corroborative of their words, that no +drop of rain or dew ever falls there during the summer. A 'circulating +library' 'which doesn't give out books,' and 'a refined and +intellectual Italian society' (I quote Murray for that phrase) which +'never reads a book through' (I quote Mrs. Wiseman, Dr. Wiseman's +mother, who has lived in Fano seven years), complete the advantages +of the place, yet the churches are beautiful, and a divine picture +of Guercino's is worth going all that way to see.[180] By a happy +accident we fell in with Mrs. Wiseman, who, having married her +daughter to Count Gabrielli with ancestral possessions in Fano, has +lived on there from year to year, in a state of permanent moaning +as far as I could apprehend. She is a very intelligent and vivacious +person, and having been used to the best French society, bears but ill +this exile from the common civilities of life. I wish Dr. Wiseman, of +whose childhood and manhood she spoke with touching pride, would +ask her to minister to the domestic rites of his bishop's palace in +Westminster; there would be no hesitation, I fancy, in her acceptance +of the invitation. Agreeable as she and her daughter were, however, we +fled from Fano after three days, and, finding ourselves cheated out of +our dream of summer coolness, resolved on substituting for it what +the Italians call 'un bel giro.' So we went to Ancona, a striking sea +city, holding up against the brown rocks and elbowing out the purple +tides, beautiful to look upon. An exfoliation of the rock itself, you +would call the houses that seem to grow there, so identical is the +colour and character. I should like to visit Ancona again when there +is a little air and shadow; we stayed a week as it was, living upon +fish and cold water. Water, water, was the cry all day long, and +really you should have seen me (or you should not have seen me) lying +on the sofa, and demoralised out of all sense of female vanity, not +to say decency, with dishevelled hair at full length, and 'sans gown, +sans stays, sans shoes, sans everything,' except a petticoat and white +dressing wrapper. I said something feebly once about the waiter; but +I don't think I meant it for earnest, for when Robert said, 'Oh, don't +mind, dear,' certainly I didn't mind in the least. People _don't_, +I suppose, when they are in ovens, or in exhausted receivers. Never +before did I guess what heat was--that's sure. We went to Loreto for a +day, back through Ancona, Sinigaglia (oh, I forgot to tell you, there +was no fair this year at Sinigaglia; Italy will be content, I suppose, +with selling her honour), Fano, Pesaro, Rimini to Ravenna, back again +over the Apennines from Forli. A 'bel giro,' wasn't it? Ravenna, where +Robert positively wanted to go to live once, has itself put an end to +those yearnings. The churches are wonderful: holding an atmosphere +of purple glory, and if one could live just in them, or in Dante's +tomb--well, otherwise keep me from Ravenna. The very antiquity of the +houses is whitewashed, and the marshes on all sides send up stenches +new and old, till the hot air is sick with them. To get to the pine +forest, which is exquisite, you have to go a mile along the canal, the +exhalations pursuing you step for step, and, what ruffled me more +than all beside, we were not admitted into the house of Dante's tomb +'without an especial permission from the authorities.' Quite furious I +was about this, and both of us too angry to think of applying: but +we stood at the grated window and read the pathetic inscription as +plainly as if we had touched the marble. We stood there between three +and four in the morning, and then went straight on to Florence from +that tomb of the exiled poet. Just what we should have done, had the +circumstances been arranged in a dramatic intention. From Forli, the +air grew pure and quick again; and the exquisite, almost visionary +scenery of the Apennines, the wonderful variety of shape and colour, +the sudden transitions and vital individuality of those mountains, the +chestnut forests dropping by their own weight into the deep ravines, +the rocks cloven and clawed by the living torrents, and the hills, +hill above hill, piling up their grand existences as if they did it +themselves, changing colour in the effort--of these things I cannot +give you any idea, and if words could not, painting could not either. +Indeed, the whole scenery of our journey, except when we approached +the coast, was full of beauty. The first time we crossed the Apennine +(near Borgo San Sepolcro) we did it by moonlight, and the flesh was +weak, and one fell asleep, and saw things between sleep and wake, only +the effects were grand and singular so, even though of course we lost +much in the distinctness. Well, but you will understand from all this +that we were delighted to get home--_I_ was, I assure you. Florence +seemed as cool as an oven after the fire; indeed, we called it quite +cool, and I took possession of my own chair and put up my feet on the +cushions and was charmed, both with having been so far and coming back +so soon. Three weeks brought us home. Flush was a fellow traveller of +course, and enjoyed it in the most obviously amusing manner. Never +was there so good a dog in a carriage before his time! Think of Flush, +too! He has a supreme contempt for trees and hills or anything of that +kind, and, in the intervals of natural scenery, he drew in his head +from the window and didn't consider it worth looking at; but when the +population thickened, and when a village or a town was to be passed +through, then his eyes were starting out of his head with eagerness; +he looked east, he looked west, you would conclude that he was taking +notes or preparing them. His eagerness to get into the carriage first +used to amuse the Italians. Ah, poor Italy! I am as mortified as +an Italian ought to be. They have only the rhetoric of patriots and +soldiers, I fear! Tuscany is to be spared forsooth, if she lies still, +and here she lies, eating ices and keeping the feast of the Madonna. +Perdoni! but she has a review in the Cascine besides, and a gallant +show of some 'ten thousand men' they are said to have made of it--only +don't think that I and Robert went out to see that sight. We should +have sickened at it too much. An amiable, refined people, too, these +Tuscans are, conciliating and affectionate. When you look out into +the streets on feast days, you would take it for one great 'rout,' +everybody appears dressed for a drawing room, and you can scarcely +discern the least difference between class and class, from the Grand +Duchess to the Donna di facenda; also there is no belying of the +costume in the manners, the most gracious and graceful courtesy +and gentleness being apparent in the thickest crowds. This is all +attractive and delightful; but the people wants _stamina_, wants +conscience, wants self-reverence. Dante's soul has died out of +the land. Enough of this. As for France, I have 'despaired of the +republic' for very long, but the nation is a great nation, and will +right itself under some flag, white or red. Don't you think so? Thank +you for the news of our authors, it is as 'the sound of a trumpet afar +off,' and I am like the war-horse. Neglectful that I am, I forgot to +tell you before that you heard quite rightly about Mr. Thackeray's +wife, who is ill _so_. Since your question, I had in gossip from +England that the book 'Jane Eyre' was written by a governess in his +house, and that the preface to the foreign edition refers to him +in some marked way. We have not seen the book at all. But the first +letter in which you mentioned your Oxford student caught us in the +midst of his work upon art.[181] Very vivid, very graphic, full of +sensibility, but inconsequent in some of the reasoning, it seemed to +me, and rather flashy than full in the metaphysics. Robert, who +knows a good deal about art, to which knowledge I of course have no +pretence, could agree with him only by snatches, and we, both of +us, standing before a very expressive picture of Domenichino's (the +'David'--at Fano) wondered how he could blaspheme so against a great +artist. Still, he is no ordinary man, and for a critic to be so much +a poet is a great thing. Also, we have by no means, I should imagine, +seen the utmost of his stature. How kindly you speak to me of my +dearest sisters. Yes, go to see them whenever you are in London, they +are worthy of the gladness of receiving you. And will you write soon +to me, and tell me everything of yourself, how you are, how home +agrees with you, and the little details which are such gold dust to +absent friends.... + +May God bless you, my beloved friend. Let me ever be (my husband +joining in all warm regards) your most affectionate + +BA. + +[Footnote 180:'Guercino drew this angel I saw teach + (Alfred, dear friend!) that little child to pray + Holding his little hands up, each to each + Pressed gently, with his own head turned away, + Over the earth where so much lay before him + Of work to do, though heaven was opening o'er him, + And he was left at Fano by the beach. + + 'We were at Fano, and three times we went + To sit and see him in his chapel there, + And drink his beauty to our soul's content + My angel with me too.'] + +[Footnote 181: The first two volumes of _Modern Painters_ bore no +author's name, but were described as being 'by a graduate of Oxford.' +At a later date Mrs. Browning made Mr. Ruskin's acquaintance, as some +subsequent letters testify.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: October 10, 1848. + +My ever dearest Miss Mitford,--Have you not thought some hard thoughts +of me, for not instantly replying to a letter which necessarily must +have been, to one who loved you, of such painful interest? Do I not +love you truly? Yes, indeed. But while preparing to write to you +my deep regret at hearing that you had been so ill, illness came in +another form to prevent me from writing, my husband being laid up for +nearly a month with fever and ulcerated sore throat. I had not the +heart to write a line to anyone, much less to prepare a packet to +escort your letter free from foreign postage; and to make you pay for +a chapter of Lamentations' without the spirit of prophecy, would have +been too hard on you, wouldn't it? Quite unhappy I have been over +those burning hands and languid eyes, the only unhappiness I ever had +by _them_, and then he wouldn't see a physician; and if it hadn't been +that, just at the right moment, Mr. Mahony, the celebrated Jesuit, and +Father Prout of 'Fraser,' knowing everything as those Jesuits are apt +to do, came in to us on his way to Rome, pointed out that the fever +got ahead through weakness and mixed up with his own kind hand a +potion of eggs and port wine, to the horror of our Italian servant, +who lifted up his eyes at such a prescription for a fever, crying, 'O +Inglesi, Inglesi!' the case would have been far worse, I have no kind +of doubt. For the eccentric prescription gave the power of sleeping, +and the pulse grew quieter directly. I shall always be grateful to +Father Prout, always. The very sight of some one with a friend's name +and a cheerful face, his very jests at me for being a 'bambina' and +frightened without cause, were as comforting as the salutation of +angels. Also, he has been in Florence ever since, and we have seen +him every day; he came to doctor and remained to talk. A very singular +person, of whom the world tells a thousand and one tales, you know, +but of whom I shall speak as I find him, because the utmost kindness +and warmheartedness have characterised his whole bearing towards us. +Robert met him years ago at dinner at Emerson Tennent's, and since has +crossed paths with him on various points of Europe. The first time I +saw him was as he stood on a rock at Leghorn, at our disembarkation +in Italy. Not refined in a social sense by any manner of means, yet +a most accomplished scholar and vibrating all over with learned +associations and vivid combinations of fancy and experience--having +seen all the ends of the earth and the men thereof, and possessing the +art of talk and quotation to an amusing degree. In another week or +two he will be at Rome.... How graphically you give us your Oxford +student! Well! the picture is more distinct than Turner's, and if you +had called it, in the manner of the Master, 'A Rock Limpet,' we +should have recognised in it the corresponding type of the gifted and +eccentric writer in question. Very eloquent he is, I agree at once, +and true views he takes of Art in the abstract, true and elevating. It +is in the application of connective logic that he breaks away from one +so violently.... We are expecting our books by an early vessel, and +are about to be very busy, building up a rococo bookcase of carved +angels and demons. Also we shall get up curtains, and get down bedroom +carpets, and finish the remainder of our furnishing business, now +that the hot weather is at an end. I say 'at an end,' though the glass +stands at seventy. As to the 'war,' _that_ is rather different, it is +painful to feel ourselves growing gradually cooler and cooler on the +subject of Italian patriotism, valour, and good sense; but the process +is inevitable. The child's play between the Livornese and our Grand +Duke provokes a thousand pleasantries. Every now and then a day is +fixed for a revolution in Tuscany, but up to the present time a shower +has come and put it off. Two Sundays ago Florence was to have been +'sacked' by Leghorn, when a drizzle came and saved us. You think this +a bad joke of mine or an impotent sarcasm, perhaps; whereas I merely +speak historically. Brave men, good men, even sensible men there are +of course in the land, but they are not strong enough for the times +or for masterdom. For France, it is a great nation; but even in +France they want a man, and Cavaignacso[182] only a soldier. If Louis +Napoleon had the muscle of his uncle's little finger in his soul, he +would be president, and king; but he is flaccid altogether, you see, +and Joinville stands nearer to the royal probability after all. +'Henri Cinq' is said to be too closely espoused to the Church, and his +connections at Naples and Parma don't help his cause. Robert has more +hope of the _republic_ than I have: but call ye _this_ a republic? Do +you know that Miss Martineau takes up the 'History of England' under +Charles Knight, in the continuation of a popular book? I regret her +fine imagination being so wasted. So you saw Mr. Chorley? What a +pleasant flashing in the eyes! We hear of him in Holland and Norway. +Dear Mr. Kenyon won't stir from England, we see plainly. Ah! Frederic +Soulié! he is too dead, I fear. Perhaps he goes on, though, writing +romances, after the fashion of poor Miss Pickering, that prove +nothing. I long for my French fountains of living literature, which, +pure or impure, plashed in one's face so pleasantly. Some old French +'Mémoires' we have got at lately, 'Brienne' for instance. It is +curious how the leaders of the last revolution (under Louis XVIII.) +seem to have despised one another. Brienne is very dull and flat. For +Puseyism, it runs counter to the spirit of our times, after all, and +will never achieve a church. May God bless you! Robert's regards go +with the love of your ever affectionate + +BA. + +[Footnote 182: At this time President of the Council, after +suppressing the Communist rising of June 1848.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Florence: December 3, 1848. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--It seemed long to me that you had not +written, and it seems long to me now that I have not answered the kind +letter which came at last. Then Henrietta told me of your being unwell +at the moment of her mad excursion into Herefordshire. Altogether +I want to speak to you and hear from you, and shall be easier and +gladder when both are done. Do forgive my sins and write directly, and +tell me everything about both of you, and how you are in spirits and +health, and whether you really make up your minds to see more danger +in the stormy influences of the Continent in the moral point of view +than in those of England in the physical. For my part I hold to my +original class of fear, and would rather face two or three revolutions +than an east wind of an English winter. If I were you I would go to +Pau as usual and take poor Abd-el-Kader's place (my husband is furious +about the treatment of Abd-el-Kader, so I hear a good deal about +him[183]), or I would go to Italy and try Florence, where really +democratic ministries roar as gently as sucking doves, particularly +when they are safe in place. We have listened to dreadful +rumours--Florence was to have been sacked several times by the +Livornese; the Grand Duke went so far as to send away his family +to Siena, and we had 'Morte a Fiorentini!' chalked up on the walls. +Still, somehow or other, the peace has been kept in Florentine +fashion; it has rained once or twice, which is always enough here to +moderate the most revolutionary when they wear their best surtouts, +and I look forward to an unbroken tranquillity just as I used to +do, even though the windows of the Ridolfi Palace (the ambassador in +London) were smashed the other evening a few yards from ours. Perhaps +a gentle and affectionate approach to contempt for our Florentines +mixes a little with this feeling of security, but what then? They +are an amiable, refined, graceful people, with much of the artistic +temperament as distinguished from that of men of genius--effeminate, +no, rather _feminine_ in a better sense--of a fancy easily turned into +impulse, but with no strenuous and determinate strength in them. What +they comprehend best in the 'Italian League' is probably a league to +wear silk velvet and each a feather in his hat, to carry flags and cry +_vivas_, and keep a grand festa day in the piazzas. Better and happier +in this than in stabbing prime ministers, or hanging up their dead +bodies to shoot at; and not much more childish than these French +patriots and republicans, who crown their great deeds by electing to +the presidency such a man as Prince Louis Napoleon, simply because +'C'est le neveu de son oncle!'[184] A curious precedent for a +president, certainly; but, oh heavens and earth, what curious things +abroad everywhere just now, inclusive of the sea serpent! I agree +with you that much of all is very melancholy and disheartening, though +holding fast by my hope and belief that good will be the end, as it +always _is_ God's end to man's frenzies, and that all we observe is +but the fermentation necessary to the new wine, which presently we +shall drink pure. Meanwhile, the saddest thing is the impossibility +(which I, for one, feel) to sympathise, to go along with, the _people_ +to whom and to whose cause all my natural sympathies yearn. The +word 'Liberty' ceases to make me thrill, as at something great and +unmistakable, as, for instance, the other great words Truth, and +Justice; do. The salt has lost its savour, the meaning has escaped +from the term; we know nothing of what people will _do_ when they +aspire to Liberty. The holiness of liberty is desecrated by the sign +of the ass's hoof. Fixed principles, either of opinion or action, seem +clearly gone out of the world. The principle of Destruction is in the +place of the principle of Re-integration, or of Radical Reform, as we +called it in England. I look all round and can sympathise nowhere. +The rulers hold by rottenness, and the people leap into the abyss, +and nobody knows why this is, or why that is. As to France, my tears +(which I really couldn't help at the time of the expulsion of poor +Louis Philippe and his family, not being very strong just then) are +justified, it appears, though my husband thought them foolish (and so +did I), and though we both began by an adhesion to the Republic in +the cordial manner. But, just see, the Republic was a 'man in an iron +mask' or helmet, and turns out a military dictatorship, a throttling +of the press, a starving of the finances, and an election of Louis +Napoleon to be President. Louis Philippe was better than all this, +take him at worst, and at worst he did _not_ deserve the mud and +stones cast at him, which I have always maintained and maintain still. +England might have got up ('happy country') more crying grievances +than France at the moment of outbreak; but what makes outbreaks +now-a-days is not 'the cause, my soul,' but the stuff of the people. +You are huckaback on the other side of the Channel, and you wear out +the poor Irish linen, let the justice of the case be what it may. +Politics enough and too much, surely, especially now when they are +depressing to you, and more or less to everybody.... We are still +in the slow agonies of furnishing our apartment. You see, being +the poorest and most prudent of possible poets, we had to solve the +problem of taking our furniture out of our year's income (proceeds +of poems and the like), and of not getting into debt. Oh, I take no +credit to myself; I was always in debt in my little way ('small _im_ +morals,' as Dr. Bowring might call it) before I married, but Robert, +though a poet and dramatist by profession, being descended from +the blood of all the Puritans, and educated by the strictest of +dissenters, has a sort of horror about the dreadful fact of owing +five shillings five days, which I call quite morbid in its degree and +extent, and which is altogether unpoetical according to the traditions +of the world. So we have been dragging in by inches our chairs and +tables throughout the summer, and by no means look finished and +furnished at this late moment, the slow Italians coming at the heels +of our slowest intentions with the putting up of our curtains, which +begin to be necessary in this November tramontana. Yet in a month or +three weeks we shall look quite comfortable--before Christmas; and +in the meantime we heap up the pine wood and feel perfectly warm +with these thick palace walls between us and the outside air. Also my +husband's new edition is on the _edge_ of coming out, and we have had +an application from Mr. Phelps, of Sadler's Wells, for leave to act +his 'Blot on the 'Scutcheon,' which, if it doesn't succeed, its +public can have neither hearts nor intellects (that being an impartial +opinion), and which, if it succeeds, will be of pecuniary advantage to +us. Look out in the papers.... My love and my husband's go to you, our +dear friends. Let me be always + +Your affectionate and grateful +BA. + + +While Italy shows herself so politically demoralised, and the blood of +poor Russia smokes from the ground, the ground seems to care no more +for it than the newspapers, or anybody else. + +Such a jar of flowers we have to keep December. White roses, as in +June. + +[Footnote 183: Abd-el-Kader surrendered to the French in Algeria early +in 1848, under an express promise that he should be sent either to +Alexandria or to St. Jean d'Acre; in spite of which he was sent to +France and kept there as a prisoner for several years.] + +[Footnote 184: Louis Napoleon was elected President of the French +Republic by a popular vote on December 10.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: December 16, [1848]. + +... You are wondering, perhaps, how we are so fool-hardy as to keep on +furnishing rooms in the midst of 'anarchy,' the Pope a fugitive, and +the crowned heads packing up. Ah, but we have faith in the _softness_ +of our Florentines, who must be well spurred up to the leap before +they do any harm. These things look worse at a distance than they do +near, although, seen far and near, nothing _can_ be worse than the +evidence of demoralisation of people, governors, and journalists, in +the sympathy given everywhere to the assassination of poor Rossi.[185] +If Rossi was retrocessive, he was at least a constitutional minister, +and constitutional means of opposing him were open to all, but Italy +understands nothing constitutional; liberty is a fair word and a +watchword, nothing more; an idea it is not in the minds of any. The +poor Pope I deeply pity; he is a weak man with the noblest and most +disinterested intentions. His faithful flock have nearly broken his +heart by the murder of his two personal friends, Rossi and Palma, and +the threat, which they sent him by embassy, of murdering every man, +woman, and child in the Quirinal, with the exception of his Holiness, +unless he accepted their terms. He should have gone out to them and so +died, but having missed that opportunity, nothing remained but flight. +He was a mere Pope hostage as long as he stayed in Rome. Curious, the +'intervention of the French,' so long desired by the Italians, +and vouchsafed _so_.[186] The Florentines open their eyes in mute +astonishment, and some of them 'won't read the journals any more.' The +boldest say softly that the _Romans are sure not to bear it_. And what +is to happen in France? Why, what a world we have just now.... Father +Prout is gone to Rome for a fortnight, has stayed three weeks, and +day by day we expect him back again. I don't understand how the Prout +papers should have hurt him ecclesiastically, but that he should be +_known_ for their writer is not astonishing, as the secret was never, +I believe, attempted to be kept. We have been, at least _I_ have +been, a little anxious lately about the fate of the 'Blot on the +'Scutcheon,' which Mr. Phelps applied for my husband's permission to +revive at Sadler's. Of course, putting the request was a mere form, +as he had every right to act the play, and there was nothing to answer +but one thing. Only it made one anxious--made _me_ anxious--till we +heard the result, and we, both of us, are very grateful to dear Mr. +Chorley, who not only made it his business to be at the theatre the +first night, but, before he slept, sat down like a true friend to give +us the story of the result, and never, he says, was a more complete +and legitimate success. The play went straight to the heart of the +audience, it seems, and we hear of its continuance on the stage from +the papers. So far, so well. You may remember, or may not have heard, +how Macready brought it out and put his foot on it in the flash of +a quarrel between manager and author, and Phelps, knowing the whole +secret and feeling the power of the play, determined on making a +revival of it on his own theatre, which was wise, as the event proves. +Mr. Chorley called his acting really 'fine.' I see the second edition +of the 'Poetical Works' advertised at last in the 'Athenaeum,' and +conclude it to be coming out directly. Also my second edition is +called for, only nothing is yet arranged on that point. We have had a +most interesting letter from Mr. Home, giving terrible accounts, to be +sure, of the submersion of all literature in England and France since +the French Revolution, but noble and instructive proof of individual +wave-riding energy, such as I have always admired in him. He and his +wife, he says, live chiefly on the produce of their garden, and keep +a cheerful heart for the rest; even the 'Institutes' expect gratuitous +lectures, so that the sweat of the brain seems less productive than +the sweat of the brow. I am glad that Mr. Serjeant Talfourd and his +wife spoke affectionately of my husband, for he is attached to both +of them.... My Flush has grown to be passionately fond of grapes, +devouring bunch after bunch, and looking so fat and well that we +attribute some virtue to them. When he goes to England he will be as +much in a strait as an Italian who related to us his adventures in +London; he had had a long walk in the heat, and catching sight of +grapes hanging up in a grocer's shop, he stopped short to have a +pennyworth, as he said inwardly to himself. Down he sat and made out +a Tuscan luncheon in purple bunches. At last, taking out his purse to +look for the halfpence: 'Fifteen shillings, sir, if you please,' said +the shopman. Now do write soon, and speak particularly of your health, +and take care of it and don't be too complaisant to visitors. May God +bless you, my very dear friend! Think of me as + +Ever your affectionate and grateful +E.B.B. +_My husband's regards always._ + +[Footnote 185: Count Pellegrino Rossi, chief minister to the Pope, was +assassinated in Rome, at the entrance of the Chamber of Deputies, +on November 15, 1848. Ten days later the Pope fled to Gaeta, and his +experiments in 'reform' came to a final end.] + +[Footnote 186: The Pope, having declared war against Austria before +his flight, had invited French support, with the concurrence of his +people; being expelled from Rome, he invited (and obtained) French +help to restore him, in spite of the desperate opposition of his +people.] + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +1849-1851 + +There is here a pause of two months in the correspondence of Mrs. +Browning, during which the happiness of her already happy life was +crowned by the birth, on March 9, 1849, of her son, Robert Wiedeman +Barrett Browning.[187] How great a part this child henceforward played +in her life will be shown abundantly by the letters that follow. Some +passages referring to the child's growth, progress, and performances +have been omitted, partly in the necessary reduction of the bulk of +the correspondence, and partly because too much of one subject may +weary the reader. But enough has been left to show that, in the case +of Mrs. Browning (and of her husband likewise), the parent was by no +means lost in the poet. There is little in what she says which might +not equally be said, and is in substance said, by hundreds of happy +mothers in every age; but it would be a suppression of one essential +part of her nature, and an injury to the pleasant picture which the +whole life of this poet pair presents, if her enthusiasms over her +child were omitted or seriously curtailed. Biographers are fond of +elaborating the details in which the lives of poets have not conformed +to the standard of the moral virtues; let us at least recognise +that, in the case of Robert and Elizabeth Browning, the moral and the +intellectual virtues flourished side by side, each contributing its +share to the completeness of the whole character. + +[Footnote 187: Wiedeman was the maiden name of Mr. Browning's mother, +her father having been a German who settled in Scotland and married a +Scotch wife.] + +The joy of this firstborn's birth was, however, very quickly dimmed +by the news of the death, only a few days later, of Mr. Browning's +mother, to whom he was devotedly attached. Her death was very sudden, +and the shock of the reaction completely prostrated him for a long +time. The following letters from Mrs. Browning tell how he felt this +loss. + + +_To Miss Browning_ +April i, 1849 [postmark]. + +I do indeed from the bottom of my heart pity you and grieve with you, +my dearest Sarianna. I may grieve with you as well as for you; for I +too have lost. Believe that, though I never saw her face; I loved that +pure and tender spirit (tender to me even at this distance), and that +she will be dear and sacred to me to the end of my own life. + +Dearest Sarianna, I thank you for your consideration and admirable +self-control in writing those letters. I do thank and bless you. +If the news had come unbroken by such precaution to my poor darling +Robert, it would have nearly killed him, I think. As it is, he has +been able to cry from the first, and I am able to tell you that though +dreadfully affected, of course, for you know his passionate love for +her, he is better and calmer now--much better. He and I dwell on +the hope that you and your dear father will come to us at once. +Come--dear, dear Sarianna--I will at least love you as you +deserve--you and him--if I can do no more. If you would comfort +Robert, come. + +No day has passed since our marriage that he has not fondly talked of +her. I know how deep in his dear heart her memory lies. God comfort +you, my dearest Sarianna. The blessing of blessed duties heroically +fulfilled _must_ be With you. May the blessing of the Blessed in +heaven be added to the rest! + +Robert stops me. My dear love to your father. + +Your ever attached sister, BA. + + +_To Miss Browning_ +[April 1849.] + +You will have comfort in hearing, my dearest Sarianna, that Robert +is better on the whole than when I wrote last, though still very much +depressed. I wish I could get him to go somewhere or do something--at +any rate God's comforts are falling like dew on all this affliction, +and must in time make it look a green memory to you both. Continually +he thinks of you and of his father--believe how continually and +tenderly he thinks of you. Dearest Sarianna, I feel so in the quick +of my heart how you must feel, that I scarcely have courage to entreat +you to go out and take the necessary air and exercise, and yet that +is a duty, clear as other duties, and to be discharged like others +by you, as fully, and with as little shrinking of the will. If your +health should suffer, what grief upon grief to those who grieve +already! And besides, we who have to live are not to lie down under +the burden. There will be time enough for lying down presently, very +soon; and in the meanwhile there is plenty of God's work to do with +the body and with the soul, and we have to do it as cheerfully as +we can. Dearest Sarianna, you can look behind and before, on blessed +memories and holy hopes--love is as full for you as ever in the old +relation, even though her life in the world is cut off. There is no +drop of bitterness in all this flood of sorrow. In the midst of the +great anguish which God has given, you have to thank Him for some +blessing with every pang as it comes. Never was a more beautiful, +serene, assuring death than this we are all in tears for--for, believe +me, my very dear sister, I have mourned with you, knowing what we all +have lost, I who never saw her nor shall see her until a few years +shall bring us all together to the place where none mourn nor are +parted. Sarianna, will it not be possible, do you think, for you and +your father to come here, if only for a few months? Then you might +decide on the future upon more knowledge than you have now. It +would be comfort and joy to Robert and me if we could all of us live +together henceforward. Think what you would like, and how you would +best like it. Your living on _even through this summer at that house_, +I, who have well known the agony of such bindings to the rack, do +protest against. Dearest Sarianna, it is not good or right either +for you or for your dear father. For Robert to go back to that house +unless it were to do one of you some good, think how it would be with +_him_! Tell us now (for he yearns towards you--we both do), what is +the best way of bringing us all together, so as to do every one of us +some good? If Florence is too far off, is there any other place where +we could meet and arrange for the future? Could not your dear father's +leave of absence be extended this summer, out of consideration of what +has happened, and would he not be so enabled to travel with you and +meet us _somewhere_? We will do anything. For my part, I am full of +anxiety; and for Robert, you may guess what his is, you who know him. +Very bitter has it been to me to have interposed unconsciously as +I have done and deprived him of her last words and kisses--very +bitter--and nothing could be so consolatory to me as to give him back +to _you_ at least. So think for me, dearest Sarianna--think for your +father and yourself, think for Robert--and remember that Robert and +I will do anything which shall appear possible to you. May God bless +you, both of you! Give my true love to your father. Feeling for you +and with you always and most tenderly, I am your affectionate sister, +BA. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: April 30, 1849. + +I am writing to you, _at last_, you will say, ever dearest Miss +Mitford; but, except once to Wimpole Street, this is the first packet +of letters which goes from me since my confinement. You will have +heard how our joy turned suddenly into deep sorrow by the death of my +husband's mother. An unsuspected disease (ossification of the heart) +terminated in a fatal way, and she lay in the insensibility precursive +of the grave's, when the letter, written in such gladness by my poor +husband, and announcing the birth of his child, reached her address. +'It would have made her heart bound,' said her daughter to us. Poor, +tender heart, the last throb was too near. The medical men would not +allow the news to be communicated. The next joy she felt was to be in +heaven itself. My husband has been in the deepest anguish, and indeed, +except for the courageous consideration of his sister, who wrote two +letters of preparation saying that 'she was not well,' and she 'was +very ill,' when in fact all was over, I am frightened to think what +the result would have been to him. He has loved his mother as such +passionate natures only can love, and I never saw a man so bowed down +in an extremity of sorrow--never. Even now the depression is great, +and sometimes when I leave him alone a little and return to the room, +I find him in tears. I do earnestly wish to change the scene and air; +but where to go? England looks terrible now. He says it would break +his heart to see his mother's roses over the wall, and the place +where she used to lay her scissors and gloves. Which I understand so +thoroughly that I can't say, 'Let us go to England.' We must wait and +see what his father and sister will choose to do or choose us to +do, for of course a duty plainly seen would draw us anywhere. My own +dearest sisters will be painfully disappointed by any change of plan, +only they are too good and kind not to understand the difficulty, not +to see the motive. So do _you_, I am certain. It has been very very +painful altogether, this drawing together of life and death. Robert +was too enraptured at my safety, and with his little son, and the +sudden reaction was terrible. You see how natural that was. How kind +of you to write that note to him full of affectionate expressions +towards me! Thank you, dearest friend. He had begged my sisters to let +you know of my welfare, and I hope they did; and now it is my turn +to know of _you_, and so I do entreat you not to delay, but to let me +hear exactly how you are and what your plans are for the summer. Do +you think of Paris seriously? Am I not a sceptic about your voyages +round the world? It's about the only thing that I don't thoroughly +believe you _can_ do. But (not to be impertinent) I want to hear so +much! I want first and chiefly to hear of your health; and occupations +next, and next your plans for the summer. Louis Napoleon is +astonishing the world, you see, by his firmness and courage; +and though really I don't make out the aim and end of his French +republicans in going to Rome to extinguish the republic there, I wait +before I swear at him for it till my information becomes fuller. If +they have at Rome such a republic as we have had in Florence, without +a public, imposed by a few bawlers and brawlers on many mutes and +cowards, why, the sooner it goes to pieces the better, of course. +Probably the French Government acts upon information. In any case, if +the Romans are in earnest they may resist eight thousand men.[1] We +shall see. My _faith_ in every species of Italian is, however, nearly +tired out. I don't believe they are men at all, much less heroes +and patriots. Since I wrote last to you, I think we have had two +revolutions here at Florence, Grand Duke out, Grand Duke in.[188] The +bells in the church opposite rang for both. They first planted a tree +of liberty close to our door, and, then they pulled it down. The same +tune, sung under the windows, did for 'Viva la republica!' and 'Viva +Leopoldo!' The genuine popular feeling is certainly for the Grand Duke +('O, santissima madre di Dio!' said our nurse, clasping her hands, +'how the people do love him!'); only nobody would run the risk of a +pin's prick to save the ducal throne. If the Leghornese, who put up +Guerazzi on its ruins, had not refused to pay at certain Florentine +cafés, we shouldn't have had revolution the second, and all this +shooting in the street! Dr. Harding, who was coming to see me, had +time to get behind a stable door, just before there was a fall against +it of four shot corpses; and Robert barely managed to get home +across the bridges. He had been out walking in the city, apprehending +nothing, when the storm gathered and broke. Sad and humiliating it all +has been, and the author of 'Vanity Fair' might turn it to better uses +for a chapter. By the way, we have just been reading 'Vanity Fair.' +Very clever, very effective, but cruel to human nature. A painful +book, and not the pain that purifies and exalts. Partial truths after +all, and those not wholesome. But I certainly had no idea that +Mr. Thackeray had intellectual force for such a book; the power is +considerable. For Balzac, Balzac may have gone out of the world as +far as we are concerned. Isn't it hard on us? exiles from Balzac! The +bookseller here, having despaired of the republic and the Grand Duchy +both, I suppose, and taking for granted on the whole that the world +must be coming shortly to an end, doesn't give us the sign of a new +book. We ought to, be done with such vanities. There! and almost I +have done my paper without a single word to you of the _baby_! Ah, you +won't believe that I forgot him even if I pretend, so I won't. He is +a lovely, fat, strong child, with double chins and rosy cheeks, and +a great wide chest, undeniable lungs, I can assure you. Dr. Harding +called him 'a robust child' the other day, and 'a more beautiful child +he never saw.' I never saw a child half as beautiful, for my part.... +Dear Mr. Chorley has written the kindest letter to my husband. I much +regard him indeed. May God bless you. Let me ever be (with Robert's +thanks and warm remembrance), + +Your most affectionate +BA. + +Flush's jealousy of the baby would amuse you. For a whole fortnight +he fell into deep melancholy and was proof against all attentions +lavished on him. Now he begins to be consoled a little and even +condescends to patronise the cradle. + +Footnote 1: As they did until the 8,000 had been increased to 35,000.] + +[Footnote 188: A revolution, fomented chiefly by the Leghornese, +expelled the Grand Duke in March 1849; about seven weeks later a +counter-revolution, chiefly by the peasantry, recalled him.] + + +_To Miss Browning_ +[Florence:] May 2, 1849. + +Robert gives me this blank, and three minutes to write across it. +Thank you, my very dear Sarianna, for all your kindness and affection. +I understand what I have lost. I know the worth of a tenderness such +as you speak of, and I feel that for the sake of my love for Robert +she was ready out of the fullness of her heart to love _me_ also. It +has been bitter to me that I have unconsciously deprived him of the +personal face-to-face shining out of her angelic nature for more than +two years, but she has forgiven me, and we shall all meet, when it +pleases God, before His throne. In the meanwhile, my dearest Sarianna, +we are thinking much of you, and neither of us can bear the thought of +your living on where you are. If you could imagine the relief it would +be to us--to me as well as to Robert--to be told frankly what we ought +to do, where we ought to go, to please you best--you and your dearest +father--you would think the whole matter over and use plain words in +the speaking of it. Robert naturally shrinks from the idea of going to +New Cross under the circumstances of dreary change, and for his sake +England has grown suddenly to me a land of clouds. Still, to see you +and his father, and to be some little comfort to you both, would be +the best consolation to him, I am very sure; and so, dearest Sarianna, +think of us and speak to us. Could not your father get a long +vacation? Could we not meet somewhere? Think how we best may comfort +ourselves by comforting you. Never think of us, Sarianna, as apart +from you--as if our interest or our pleasure _could_ be apart from +yours. The child is so like Robert that I can believe in the other +likeness, and may the inner nature indeed, as you say, be after +that pure image! He is so fat and rosy and strong that almost I am +sceptical of his being my child. I suppose he is, after all. May God +bless you, both of you. I am ashamed to send all these letters, but +Robert makes me. He is better, but still much depressed sometimes, and +over your letters he drops heavy tears. Then he treasures them up +and reads them again and again. Better, however, on the whole, he +is certainly. Poor little babe, who was too much rejoiced over at +_first_, fell away by a most natural recoil (even _I_ felt it to be +_most natural_) from all that triumph, but Robert is still very fond +of him, and goes to see him bathed every morning, and walks up and +down on the terrace with him in his arms. If your dear father can toss +and rock babies as Robert can, he will be a nurse in great favour. + +Dearest Sarianna, take care of yourself, and do walk out. No grief in +the world was ever freer from the corroding drop of bitterness--was +ever sweeter, holier, and more hopeful than this of yours must be. +Love is for you on both sides of the grave, and the blossoms of love +meet over it. May God's love, too, bless you! + +Your ever affectionate sister, +BA. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Florence: May 14, [1849]. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--At last I come to thank you for all your +kindness, all your goodness, all your sympathy for both of us. Robert +would have written to you in the first instance (for we _both_ thought +of you) if we had not agreed that you would hear as quickly from +Henrietta, we not knowing your direct address. Also your welcome +little note should have had an immediate acknowledgment from him if he +had not been so depressed at that time that I was glad to ask him to +wait till I should be ready to write myself. In fact, he has suffered +most acutely from the affliction you have since of course heard of; +and just because he was _too happy_ when the child was born, the pain +was overwhelming afterwards. That is easy to understand, I think. +While he was full of joy for the child, his mother was dying at a +distance, and the very thought of accepting that new affection for +the old became a thing to recoil from--do you not see? So far from +suffering less through the particular combination of circumstances, +as some people seemed to fancy he would, he suffered much more, I +am certain, and very naturally. Even now he is looking very +unwell--thinner and paler than usual, and his spirits, which used to +be so good, have not rallied. I long to get him away from Florence +somewhere--_where_, I can't fix my wishes; our English plans seem flat +on the ground for the present, _that_ is one sad certainty. My dearest +sisters will be very grieved if we don't go to England, and yet how +can I even try to persuade my husband back into the scene of old +associations where he would feel so much pain? Do I not know what I +myself should suffer in some places? And he loved his mother with all +his power of loving, which is deeper and more passionate than love is +with common men. She hearts of men are generally strong in proportion +to their heads. Well, I am not to send you such a dull letter though, +after waiting so long, and after receiving so much to speak thankfully +of. My child you never would believe to be _my child_, from the +evidence of his immense cheeks and chins--for pray don't suppose that +he has only one chin. People call him a lovely child, and if _I_ were +to call him the same it wouldn't be very extraordinary, only I assure +you 'a robust child' I may tell you that he is with a sufficient +modesty, and also that Wilson says he is universally admired in +various tongues when she and the nurse go out with him to the +Cascine--'What a beautiful baby!' and 'Che bel bambino!' He has had +a very stormy entrance upon life, poor little fellow; and when he was +just three days old, a grand festa round the liberty tree planted at +our door, attended with military music, civic dancing and singing, and +the firing of cannons and guns from morning to night, made him start +in his cradle, and threw my careful nurse into paroxysms of devotion +before the 'Vergine Santissima' that I mightn't have a fever in +consequence. Since then the tree of liberty has come down with a crash +and we have had another festa as noisy on that occasion. Revolution +and counter-revolution, Guerazzi[189] and Leopold, sacking of Florence +and entrance of the Austrian army--we live through everything, you +see, and baby grows fat indiscriminately. For my part, I am altogether +_blasée_ about revolutions and invasions. Don't think it want of +feeling in me, or want of sympathy with 'the people,' but really I +can't help a certain political latitudinarianism from creeping over me +in relation to this Tuscany. You ought to be here to understand what I +mean and how I think. Oh heavens! how ignoble it all has been and +is! A revolution made by boys and _vivas_, and unmade by boys and +_vivas_--no, there was blood shed in the unmaking--some horror and +terror, but not as much patriotism and truth as could lift up the +blood from the kennel. The counter-revolution was strictly _counter_, +observe. I mean, that if the Leghornese troops here bad paid their +debts at the Florentine coffee houses, the Florentines would have let +their beloved Grand Duke stay on at Gaeta to the end of the world. The +Grand Duke, too, whose part I have been taking hitherto (because he +did seem to me a good man, more sinned against than sinning)--the +Grand Duke I give up from henceforth, seeing that he has done this +base thing of taking again his Austrian titles in his proclamations +coincidently with the approach of the Austrians. Of Rome, knowing +nothing, I don't like to speak. If a republic _in earnest_ is +established there, Louis Napoleon should not try to set his foot on +it. Dearest Mrs. Martin, how you mistake me about France, and how too +lightly I must have spoken. If you knew how I admire the French as +a nation! Robert always calls them '_my beloved French_.' Their +very faults appear to me to arise from an excess of ideality land +aspiration; but I was vexed rather at their selection of Louis +Napoleon--a selection since justified by the firmness and apparent +integrity of the man. His reputation in England, you will admit, did +not promise the conclusion. Will he be emperor, do you imagine? And +shall I ever have done talking politics? I would far rather talk of +_you_, after all. Henrietta tells me of your looking well, but of your +not being strong yet. Now do, _for once_, have a fit of egotism and +tell me a little about yourself.... Surely I ought especially to thank +you, dearest kind friend, for your goodness in writing to--, of which +Henrietta very properly told me. I never shall forget this and other +proofs of your affection for me, and shall remember them with warm +gratitude always. As to--, I have held out both [my] hands, and my +husband's hands in mine, again and again to him; he cannot possibly, +in the secret place of his heart, expect more from either of us. My +husband would have written to him in the first place, but for the +obstacles raised by himself and others, and now what _could_ Robert +write and say except the bare repetition of what I have said over and +over for him and myself? It is exactly an excuse--not more and not +less. Just before I was ill I sent my last messages, because, with +certain hazards before me, my heart turned to them naturally. I might +as well have turned to a rock.--has been by far the kindest, and has +written to me two or three little notes, and one since the birth of +our child. I love them all far too well to be proud, and my husband +loves me too well not to wish to be friends with every one of them; we +have neither of us any stupid feeling about 'keeping up our dignity.' +Yes, I had a letter from--some time ago, in which something was said +of Robert's being careless of reconciliation. I answered it most +explicitly and affectionately, with every possible assurance from +Robert, and offering them from himself the affection of a brother. Not +a word in answer! To my poor dearest papa I have written very lately, +and as my letter has not, after a week, been sent back, I catch at +the hope of his being moved a little. If he neither sends it back nor +replies severely, I shall take courage to write to him again after a +while. It will be an immense gain to get him only to read my letters. +My father and my brothers hold quite different positions, of +course, and though he has acted sternly towards me, I, knowing his +peculiarities, do not feel embittered and astonished and disappointed +as in the other cases. Absolutely happy my marriage has been--never +could there be a happier marriage (as there are no marriages in +heaven); but dear Henrietta is quite wrong in fancying, or seeming to +fancy, that this quarrel with my family has given or gives me slight +pain. Old affections are not so easily trodden out of me, indeed, and +while I live unreconciled to them, there must be a void and drawback. +Do write to me and tell me of both of you, my very dear friends. Don't +fancy that we are not anxious for brave Venice and Sicily, and that we +don't hate this Austrian invasion. But Tuscany has acted a vile part +altogether--_so_ vile, that I am sceptical about the Romans. We expect +daily the Austrians in Florence, and have made up our minds to be +very kind. May God bless you! Do write, and mention your health +particularly, as I am anxious about it. I am quite well myself, and, +as ever, + +Your affectionate +BA. + +Don't you both like Macaulay's History? We are delighted just now with +it. + +[Footnote 189: Chief administrator of the Republic of Tuscany during +the short absence of the Grand Duke Leopold.] + + +_To Miss Browning_ +[Florence: about June 1849.] + +I must say to my dearest Sarianna how delighted we are at the thought +of seeing her in Florence. I wish it had been before the autumn, but +since autumn is decided for we must be content to reap our golden +harvest at the time for such things. Certainly the summer heat of +Florence is terrible enough--only we should have carried you with us +into the shade somewhere to the sea or to the mountains--and Robert +has, of course, told you of our Spezzia plan. The 'fatling of the +flock' has been sheared closely of his long petticoats. Did he tell +you that? And you can't think how funny the little creature looks +without his train, his wise baby face appearing to approve of the +whole arrangement. He talks to himself now and smiles at everybody, +and admired my roses so much the other day that he wanted to eat +them; having a sublime transcendental notion about the mouth being +the receptacle of all beauty and glory in this world. Tell your dear +father that certainly he _is_ a 'sweet baby,' there's no denying it. +We lay him down on the floor to let him kick at ease, and he makes +violent efforts to get up by himself, and Wilson declares that the +least encouragement would set him walking. Robert's nursing does +not mend his spirits much. I shall be very glad to get him away from +Florence; he has suffered too much here to rally as I long to see him +do, because, dearest Sarianna, we have to live after all; and to live +rightly we must turn our faces forward and press forward and not look +backward morbidly for the footsteps in the dust of those beloved ones +who travelled with us but yesterday. They themselves are not +behind but before, and we carry with us our tenderness living and +undiminished towards them, to be completed when the round of this life +is complete for us also. Dearest Sarianna, why do I say such things, +but because I have known what grief is? Oh, and how I could have +compounded with you, grief for grief, mine for yours, for _I_ had no +last words nor gestures, Sarianna. God keep you from such a helpless +bitter agony as mine then was. Dear Sarianna, you will think of us +and of Florence, my dear sister, and remember how you have made us +a promise and have to keep it. May God bless you and comfort you. +We think of you and love you continually, and I am always your most +affectionate + +BA. + + +In July the move from Florence, of which Mrs. Browning speaks in the +above letter, was effected, the place ultimately chosen for escape +from the summer heat in the valley of the Arno being the Bagni +di Lucca. Here three months were spent, as the following letters +describe. By this time the struggle for Italian liberty had ended in +failure everywhere. The battle of Novara, on March 23, had prostrated +Piedmont, and caused the abdication of its king, Charles Albert. The +Tuscan Republic had come and gone, and the Grand Duke had re-entered +his capital under the protection of Austrian bayonets. Sicily had been +reduced to subjection to the Bourbons of Naples. On July 2 the French +entered Rome, bringing back the Pope cured of his leanings to reform +and constitutional government; on the 24th, Venice, after an heroic +resistance, capitulated to the Austrians. The struggle was over for +the time; the longing for liberty becomes, of necessity, silent; and +we hear little, for a space, of Italian politics. For the moment it +might seem justifiable to despair of the republic. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Bagni di Lucca, Toscana: [about July 1849]. + +At last, you will say, dearest friend. The truth is, I have not been +forgetting you (how far from that!) but wandering in search of cool +air and a cool bough among all the olive trees to build our summer +nest on. My husband has been suffering beyond what one could shut +one's eyes to in consequence of the great mental shock of last +March--loss of appetite, loss of sleep, looks quite worn and altered. +His spirits never rallied except with an effort, and every letter from +New Cross threw him back into deep depressions. I was very anxious, +and feared much that the end of it all (the intense heat of Florence +assisting) would be a nervous fever or something similar. And I had +the greatest difficulty in persuading him to leave Florence for a +month or two--he who generally delights so in travelling, had no +mind for change or movement. I had to say and swear that baby and I +couldn't bear the heat, and that we must and would go away. _Ce +que femme veut_, if the latter is at all reasonable, or the former +persevering. At last I gained the victory. It was agreed that we two +should go on an exploring journey to find out where we could have +most shadow at least expense; and we left our child with his nurse and +Wilson while we were absent. We went along the coast to Spezzia, saw +Carrara with the white marble mountains, passed through the olive +forests and the vineyards, avenues of acacia trees, chestnut woods, +glorious surprises of most exquisite scenery. I say olive forests +advisedly; the olive grows like a forest tree in those regions, +shading the ground with tents of silvery network. The olive near +Florence is but a shrub in comparison, and I have learnt to despise +a little, too, the Florentine vine, which does not swing such +portcullises of massive dewy green from one tree to another as along +the whole road where we travelled. Beautiful, indeed, it was. Spezzia +wheels the blue sea into the arms of the wooded mountains, and we had +a glance at Shelley's house at Lerici. It was melancholy to me, of +course. I was not sorry that the lodgings we inquired about were +far above our means. We returned on our steps (after two days in the +dirtiest of possible inns), saw Seravezza, a village in the mountains, +where rock, river, and wood enticed us to stay, and the inhabitants +drove us off by their unreasonable prices. It is curious, but just in +proportion to the want of civilisation the prices rise in Italy. If +you haven't cups and saucers you are made to pay for plate. Well, so +finding no rest for the sole of our feet, I persuaded Robert to go to +the Baths of Lucca, only to see them. We were to proceed afterwards +to San Marcello or some safer wilderness. We had both of us, but he +chiefly, the strongest prejudice against these Baths of Lucca, taking +them for a sort of wasp's nest of scandal and gaming, and expecting to +find everything trodden flat by the Continental English; yet I wanted +to see the place, because it is a place to see after all. So we came, +and were so charmed by the exquisite beauty of the scenery, by the +coolness of the climate and the absence of our countrymen, political +troubles serving admirably our private requirements, that we made an +offer for rooms on the spot, and returned to Florence for baby and the +rest of our establishment without further delay. Here we are, then; we +have been here more than a fortnight. We have taken an apartment for +the season--four months--paying twelve pounds for the whole term, +and hoping to be able to stay till the end of October. The living is +cheaper than even at Florence, so that there has been no extravagance +in coming here. In fact, Florence is scarcely tenable during the +summer from the excessive heat by day and night, even if there were no +particular motive for leaving it. We have taken a sort of eagle's nest +in this place, the highest house of the highest of the three villages +which are called the Bagni di Lucca, and which lie at the heart of a +hundred mountains sung to continually by a rushing mountain stream. +The sound of the river and of the cicala is all the noise we hear. +Austrian drums and carriage wheels cannot vex us; God be thanked for +it; the silence is full of joy and consolation. I think my husband's +spirits are better already and his appetite improved. Certainly little +babe's great cheeks are growing rosier and rosier. He is out all day +when the sun is not too strong, and Wilson will have it that he is +prettier than the whole population of babies here. He fixes his +blue eyes on everybody and smiles universal benevolence, rather too +indiscriminately it might be if it were not for Flush. But certainly, +on the whole he prefers Flush. He pulls his ears and rides on him, and +Flush, though his dignity does not approve of being used as a pony, +only protests by turning his head round to kiss the little bare +dimpled feet. A merrier, sweeter-tempered child there can't be than +our baby, and people wonder at his being so forward at four months +old and think there must be a mistake in his age. He is so strong that +when I put out two fingers and he has seized them in his fists he can +draw himself up on his feet, but we discourage this forwardness, which +is not desirable, say the learned. Children of friends of mine at ten +months and a year can't do so much. Is it not curious that _my_ child +should be remarkable for strength and fatness? He has a beaming, +thinking little face, too; oh, I wish you could see it. Then my +own strength has wonderfully improved, just as my medical friends +prophesied; and it seems like a dream when I find myself able to climb +the hills with Robert and help him to lose himself in the forests. +I have been growing stronger and stronger, and where it is to stop I +can't tell, really; I can do as much, or more, now than at any point +of my life since I arrived at woman's estate. The air of this place +seems to penetrate the heart and not the lungs only; it draws you, +raises you, excites you. Mountain air without its keenness, sheathed +in Italian sunshine, think what _that_ must be! And the beauty and +the solitude--for with a few paces we get free of the habitations +of men--all is delightful to me. What is peculiarly beautiful and +wonderful is the variety of the shapes of the mountains. They are a +multitude, and yet there is no likeness. None, except where the golden +mist comes and transfigures them into one glory. For the rest, the +mountain there wrapt in the chestnut forest is not like that bare peak +which tilts against the sky, nor like that serpent twine of another +which seems to move and coil in the moving coiling shadow. Oh, I wish +you were here. You would enjoy the shade of the chestnut trees, and +the sound of the waterfalls, and at nights seem to be living among the +stars; the fireflies are so thick, you would like that too. We have +subscribed to a French library where there are scarcely any new books. +I have read Bernard's 'Gentilhomme Campagnard' (see how _arriérés_ we +are in French literature!), and thought it the dullest and worst of +his books. I wish I could see the 'Memoirs of Louis Napoleon,' but +there is no chance of such good fortune. All this egotism has been +written with a heart full of thoughts of you and anxieties for you. +Do write to me directly and say first how your precious health is, and +then that you have ceased to suffer pain for your friends.... But your +dear self chiefly--how are you, my dearest Miss Mitford? I do long so +for good news of you. On our arrival here Mr. Lever called on us. A +most cordial vivacious manner, a glowing countenance, with the animal +spirits somewhat predominant over the intellect, yet the intellect by +no means in default; you can't help being surprised into being pleased +with him, whatever your previous inclination may be. Natural too, and +a _gentleman_ past mistake. His eldest daughter is nearly grown up, +and his youngest six months old. He has children of every sort of +intermediate age almost, but he himself is young enough still. Not the +slightest Irish accent. He seems to have spent nearly his whole life +on the Continent and by no means to be tired of it. Ah, dearest Miss +Mitford, hearts feel differently, adjust themselves differently before +the prick of sorrow, and I confess I agree with Robert. There are +places stained with the blood of my heart for ever, and where I could +not bear to stand again. If duty called him to New Cross it would be +otherwise, but his sister is rather inclined to come to us, I think, +for a few weeks in the autumn perhaps. Only these are scarcely times +for plans concerning foreign travel. It is something to talk of. It +has been a great disappointment to me the not going to England this +year, but I could not run the risk of the bitter pain to him. May God +bless you from all pain! Love me and write to me, who am ever and ever +your affectionate E.B.B. + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +Bagni di Lucca: August 11, 1849. + +I thank you, dearest friend, for your most affectionate and welcome +letter would seem to come by instinct, and we have thanked you in our +thoughts long before this moment, when I begin at last to write some +of them. Do believe that to value your affection and to love you back +again are parts of our life, and that it must be always delightful to +us to read in your handwriting or to hear in your voice that we are +not exiled from your life. Give us such an assurance whenever you can. +Shall we not have it face to face at Florence, when the booksellers +let you go? And meantime there is the post; do write to us.... Did +you ever see this place, I wonder? The coolness, the charm of the +mountains, whose very heart you seem to hear beating in the rush of +the little river, the green silence of the chestnut forests, and the +seclusion which anyone may make for himself by keeping clear of +the valley-villages; all these things drew us. We took a delightful +apartment over the heads of the whole world in the highest house +of the Bagni Caldi, where only the donkeys and the _portantini_ can +penetrate, and where we sit at the open windows and hear nothing but +the cicale. Not a mosquito! think of that! The thermometer ranges +from sixty-eight to seventy-four, but the seventy-four has been a +rare excess: the nights, mornings, and evenings are exquisitely cool. +Robert and I go out and lose ourselves in the woods and mountains, and +sit by the waterfalls on the starry and moonlit nights, and neither +by night nor day have the fear of picnics before our eyes. We were +observing the other day that we never met anybody except a monk girt +with a rope, now and then, or a barefooted peasant. The sight of a +pink parasol never startles us into unpleasant theories of comparative +anatomy. One cause, perhaps, may be that on account of political +matters it is a delightfully 'bad season,' but, also, we are too +high for the ordinary walkers, who keep to the valley and the flatter +roads. Robert is better, looking better, and in more healthy spirits; +and we are both enjoying this great sea of mountains and our way of +life here altogether. Of course, we remembered to go back to Florence +for baby and the rest of our little establishment, and we mean to +stay as long as we can, perhaps to the end of October. Baby is in +the triumph of health and full-blown roses, and as he does not hide +himself in the woods like his ancestors, but smiles at everybody, he +is the most popular of possible babies.... We had him baptised +before we left Florence, without godfathers and godmothers, in the +simplicities of the French Lutheran Church. I gave him your kiss as a +precious promise that you would love him one day like a true dear +Aunt Nina; and I promise you on my part that he shall be taught +to understand both the happiness and the honour of it. Robert is +expecting a visit from his sister in the course of this autumn. She +has suffered much, and the change will be good for her, even if, as +she says, she can stay with us only a few weeks. With her we shall +have your book, to be disinherited of which so long has been hard on +us. Robert's own we have not seen yet. It must be satisfactory to you +to have had such a clear triumph after all the dust and toil of the +way. And now tell me, won't it be _necessary_ for you to come again to +Italy for what remains to be done? Poor Florence is quiet enough under +the heel of Austria, and Leopold 'l'intrepido,' as he was happily +called by a poet of Viareggio in a welcoming burst of inspiration, +sits undisturbed at the Pitti. I despair of the republic in Italy, or +rather of Italy altogether. The instructed are not patriotic, and the +patriots are not instructed. We want not only a _man_, but men, and we +must throw, I fear, the bones of their race behind us before the true +deliverers can spring up. Still, it is not all over; there will be +deliverance presently, but it will not be now. We are full of painful +sympathy for poor Venice. There! why write more about politics? It +makes us sick enough to think of Austrians in our Florence without +writing the thought out into greater expansion. Only don't let the +'Times' newspaper persuade you that there is no stepping with impunity +out of England. ... We have 'lectures on Shakespeare' just now by a +Mr. Stuart, who is enlightening the English barbarians at the +lower village, and quoting Mrs. Jameson to make his discourse more +brilliant. We like to hear 'Mrs. Jameson observes.' Give our love to +dear Gerardine. I am anxious for her happiness and yours involved in +it. Love and remember us, dearest friend. + +Your E.B.B., or rather, BA. + + +The following note is added in Mr. Browning's handwriting: + +Dear Aunt Nina,--Will there be three years before I see you again? And +Geddie; does she not come to Italy? When we passed through Pisa the +other day, we went to your old inn in love of you, and got your very +room to dine in (the landlord is dead and gone, as is Peveruda--of the +other house, you remember). There were the old vile prints, the old +look-out into the garden, with its orange trees and painted sentinel +watching them. Ba must have told you about our babe, and the little +else there is to tell--that is, for _her_ to tell, for she is not +likely to encroach upon _my_ story which I _could_ tell of her +entirely angel nature, as divine a heart as God ever made; I know more +of her every day; I, who thought I knew something of her five years +ago! I think I know you, too, so I love you and am + +Ever yours and dear Geddie's +R.B. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Bagni di Lucca: August 31, 1849. + +I told Mr. Lever what you thought of him, dearest friend, and then +he said, all in a glow and animation, that you were not only his +own delight but the delight of his children, which is affection by +refraction, isn't it? Quite gratified he seemed by the hold of your +good opinion. Not only is he the notability _par excellence_ of these +Baths of Lucca, where he has lived a whole year, during the snows upon +the mountains, but he presides over the weekly balls at the casino +where the English 'do congregate' (all except Robert and me), and is +said to be the light of the flambeaux and the spring of the dancers. +There is a general desolation when he _will_ retire to play whist. +In addition to which he really seems to be loving and loveable in his +family. You always see him with his children and his wife; he drives +her and her baby up and down along the only carriageable road of +Lucca: so set down that piece of domestic life on the bright side in +the broad charge against married authors; now do. I believe he is to +return to Florence this winter with his family, having had enough of +the mountains. Have you read 'Roland Cashel,' isn't _that_ the name of +his last novel? The 'Athenaeum' said of it that it was '_new ground_,' +and praised it. I hear that he gets a hundred pounds for each monthly +number. Oh, how glad I was to have your letter, written in such pain, +read in such pleasure! It was only fair to tell me in the last lines +that the face-ache was better, to keep off a fit of remorse. I do +hope that Mr. May is not right about neuralgia, because that is more +difficult to cure than pain which arises from the teeth. Tell me how +you are in all ways. I look into your letters eagerly for news of your +health, then of your spirits, which are a part of health. The cholera +makes me very frightened for my dearest people in London, and silence, +the last longer than usual, ploughs up my days and nights into long +furrows. The disease rages in the neighbourhood of my husband's +family, and though Wimpole Street has been hitherto clear, who can +calculate on what may be? My head goes round to think of it. And papa, +who _will_ keep going into that horrible city! Even if my sisters and +brothers should go into the country as every year, he will be left, he +is no more movable than St. Paul's. My sister-in-law will probably not +come to us as soon as she intended, through a consideration for her +father, who ought not, Robert thinks, to stay alone in the midst of +such contingencies, so perhaps we may go to seek her ourselves in the +spring, if she does not seek us out before in Italy. God keep us all, +and near to one another. Love runs dreadful risks in the world. Yet +Love is, how much the best thing in the world? We have had a great +event in our house. Baby has cut a tooth.... His little happy laugh is +always ringing through the rooms. He is afraid of nobody or nothing +in the world, and was in fits of ecstasy at the tossing of the horse's +head, when he rode on Wilson's knee five or six miles the other day to +a village in the mountains--screaming for joy, she said. He is not six +months yet by a fortnight! His father loves him; passionately, and the +sentiment is reciprocated, I assure you. We have had the coolest +of Italian summers at these Baths of Lucca, the thermometer at the +hottest hour of the hottest day only at seventy-six, and generally at +sixty-eight or seventy. The nights invariably cool. Now the freshness +of the air is growing almost too fresh. I only hope we shall be able +(for the cold) to keep our intention of staying here till the end of +October, I have enjoyed it so entirely, and shall be so sorry to break +off this happy silence into the Austrian drums at poor Florence. And +then we want to see the vintage. Some grapes are ripe already, but +it is not vintage time. We have every kind of good fruit, great +water-melons, which with both arms I can scarcely carry, at twopence +halfpenny each, and figs and peaches cheap in proportion. And the +place agrees with Baby, and has done good to my husband's spirits, +though the only 'amusement' or distraction he has is looking at the +mountains and climbing among the woods with me. Yes, we have been +reading some French romances, 'Monte Cristo,' for instance, I for +the second time--but I have liked it, to read it with him. That Dumas +certainly has power; and to think of the scramble there was for his +brains a year or two ago in Paris! For a man to write so much and +so well together is a miracle. Do you mean that they have left off +writing--those French writers--or that they have tired you out with +writing that looks faint beside the rush of facts, as the range of +French politics show those? Has not Eugène Sue been illustrating +the passions? Somebody told me so. Do _you_ tell me how you like +the French President, and whether he will ever, in your mind, sit on +Napoleon's throne. It seems to me that he has given proof, as far +as the evidence goes, of prudence, integrity, and conscientious +patriotism; the situation is difficult, and he fills it honorably. The +Rome business has been miserably managed; this is the great blot on +the character of his government. But I, for my own part (my husband is +not so minded), do consider that the French motive has been good, the +intention pure, the occupation of Rome by the Austrians being imminent +and the French intervention the only means (with the exception of a +European war) of saving Rome from the hoof of the Absolutists. At the +same time if Pius IX. is the obstinate idiot he seems to be, good and +tenderhearted man as he surely is, and if the old abuses are to be +restored, why Austria might as well have done her own dirty work +and saved French hands from the disgrace of it. It makes us two very +angry. Robert especially is furious. We are not within reach of the +book you speak of, 'Portraits des Orateurs Français' oh, we might +nearly as well live on a desert island as far as modern books go. And +here, at Lucca, even Robert can't catch sight of even the 'Athenaeum.' +We have a two-day old 'Galignani,' and think ourselves royally off; +and then this little shop with French books in it, just a few, and the +'Gentilhomme Campagnard' the latest published. Yes, but somebody lent +us the first volume of 'Chateaubriand's Mémoires.' Have you seen it? +Curiously uninteresting, considering 'the man and the hour.' He writes +of his youth with a grey goose quill; the paper is all wrinkled. +And then he is not frank; he must have more to tell than he tells. I +looked for a more intense and sincere book _outre tombe_ certainly. I +am busy about my new edition, that is all at present, but some things +are written. Good of Mr. Chorley (he is _good_) to place you face +to face with Robert's books, and I am glad you like 'Colombe' and +'Luria.' Dear Mr. Kenyon's poems we have just received and are about +to read, and I am delighted at a glance to see that he has inserted +the 'Gipsy Carol,' which in MS. was such a favorite of mine. Really, +is he so rich? I am glad of it, if he is. Money could not be in more +generous and intelligent hands. Dearest Miss Mitford, you are only +just in being trustful of my affection for you. Never do I forget nor +cease to love you. Write and tell me of your dear self; how you are +_exactly_, and whether you have been at Three Mile Cross all the +summer. May God bless you. Robert's regards. Can you read? Love a +little your + + Ever affectionate + E.B.B. + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +Bagni di Lucca: October 1, [1849]. + +There seems to be a fatality about our letters, dearest friend, only +the worst fate comes to me! I lose, and you are _near_ losing! And I +should not have liked you to lose any least proof of my thinking of +you, lest a worst loss should happen to me as a consequence, even +worse than the loss of your letters; for then, perhaps, and by +degrees, you might leave off thinking of Robert and me, which, rich +as we are in this mortal world, I do assure you we could neither of +us afford.... We have had much quiet enjoyment here in spite of +everything, read some amusing books (Dumas and Sue--shake your head!), +and seen our child grow fuller of roses and understanding day by day. +Before he was six months old he would stretch out his hands and his +feet too, when bidden to do so, and his little mouth to kiss you. This +is said to be a miracle of forwardness among the learned. He knows +Robert and me quite well as 'Papa' and 'Mama,' and laughs for joy when +he meets us out of doors. Robert is very fond of him, and threw +me into a fit of hilarity the other day by springing away from his +newspaper in an indignation against me because he hit his head against +the floor rolling over and over. 'Oh, Ba, I really can't trust you!' +Down Robert was on the carpet in a moment, to protect the precious +head. He takes it to be made of Venetian glass, I am certain. We may +leave this place much sooner than the end of October, as everything +depends upon the coming in of the cold. It will be the end of October, +won't it, before Gerardine can reach Florence? I wish I knew. We have +made an excursion into the mountains, five miles deep, with all our +household, baby and all, on horseback and donkeyback, and people open +their eyes at our having performed such an exploit--I and the child. +Because it is five miles straight up the Duomo; you wonder how any +horse could keep its footing, the way is so precipitous, up the +exhausted torrent courses, and with a palm's breadth between you and +the headlong ravines. Such scenery. Such a congregation of mountains: +looking alive in the stormy light we saw them by. We dined with the +goats, and baby lay on my shawl rolling and laughing. He wasn't in the +least tired, not he! I won't say so much for myself. The Mr. Stuart +who lectured here on Shakespeare (I think I told you that) couldn't +get through a lecture without quoting you, and wound up by a +declaration that no English critic had done so much for the divine +poet as a woman--Mrs. Jameson. He appears to be a cultivated and +refined person, and especially versed in German criticism, and we mean +to _use_ his society a little when we return to Florence, where he +resides.... What am I to say about Robert's idleness and mine? I +scold him about it in a most anti-conjugal manner, but, you know, his +spirits and nerves have been shaken of late; we must have patience. +As for me, I am much better, and do something, really, now and then. +Wait, and you shall have us both on you; too soon, perhaps. May God +bless you. How are your friends? Lady Byron, Madame de Goethe. The +dreadful cholera has made us anxious about England. + +Your ever affectionate +BA. + +Mr. Browning adds the following note: + +Dear Aunt Nina,--Ba will have told you everything, and how we wish +you and Geddie all manner of happiness. I hope we shall be in Florence +when she passes through it. The place is otherwise distasteful to me, +with the creeping curs and the floggers of the same. But the weather +is breaking up here, and I suppose we ought to go back soon. Shall +you indeed come to Italy next year? That will indeed be pleasant +to expect. We hope to go to England in the spring. What comes of +'hoping,' however, we [know] by this time. + +Ever yours affectionately, +R.B. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Bagni di Lucca: October 2, 1849. + +Thank you, my dearest Miss Mitford: It is great comfort to know +that you are better, and that the cholera does not approach your +neighbourhood. My brothers and sisters have gone to Worthing for a +few weeks; and though my father (dearest Papa!) is not persuadeable, I +fear, into joining them, yet it is something to know that the horrible +pestilence is abating in London. Oh, it has made me so anxious: I +have caught with such a frightened haste at the newspaper to read +the 'returns,' leaving even such subjects as Rome and the President's +letter to quite the last, as if they were indifferent, or, at most, +bits of Mrs. Manning's murder. By the way and talking of murder, how +do you account for the crown of wickedness which England bears just +now over the heads of the nations, in murders of all kinds, by poison, +by pistol, by knife? In this poor Tuscany, which has not brains enough +to govern itself, as you observe, and as really I can't deny, there +have been two murders (properly so called) since we came, just three +years ago, one from jealousy and one from revenge (respectable motives +compared to the advantages of the burying societies!), and the horror +on all sides was great, as if the crime were some rare prodigy, which, +indeed, it is in this country. We have _no punishment of death_ here, +observe! The people are gentle, courteous, refined, and tenderhearted. +What Balzac would call 'femmelette.' All Tuscany is 'Lucien' himself. +The leaning to the artistic nature without the strength of genius +implies demoralisation in most cases, and it is this which makes +your 'good for nothing poets and poetesses,' about which I love so to +battle with you. Genius, I maintain always, you know, is a purifying +power and goes with high moral capacities. Well, and so you invite us +home to civilisation and 'the "Times" newspaper.' We _mean_ to go next +spring, and shall certainly do so unless something happen to catch us +and keep us in a net. But always something does happen: and I have so +often built upon seeing England, and been precipitated from the fourth +storey, that I have learnt to think warily now. I hunger and thirst +for the sight of some faces; must I not long, do you think, to see +your face? And then, I shall be properly proud to show my child +to those who loved me before him. He is beginning to understand +everything--chiefly in Italian, of course, as his nurse talks in her +sleep, I fancy, and can't be silent a second in the day--and when told +to 'dare un bacio a questo povero Flush,' he mixes his little face +with Flush's ears in a moment.... You would wonder to see Flush just +now. He suffered this summer from the climate somewhat as usual, +though not nearly as much as usual; and having been insulted oftener +than once by a supposition of 'mange,' Robert wouldn't bear it +any longer (he is as fond of Flush as I am), and, taking a pair of +scissors, clipped him all over into the likeness of a lion, much +to his advantage in both health and appearance. In the winter he is +always quite well; but the heat and the fleas together are too much +in the summer. The affection between baby and him is not equal, baby's +love being far the stronger. He, on the other hand, looks down upon +baby. What bad news you tell me of our French writers! What! Is it +possible that Dumas even is struck dumb by the revolution? His first +works are so incomparably the worst that I can't admit your theory of +the 'first runnings.' So of Balzac. So of Sue! George Sand is probably +writing 'banners' for the 'Reds,' which, considering the state of +parties in France, does not really give me a higher opinion of +her intelligence or virtue. Ledru Rollin's[190] _confidante_ and +councillor can't occupy an honorable position, and I am sorry, for +her sake and ours. When we go to Florence we must try to get the +'Portraits' and Lamartine's autobiography, which I still more long to +see. So, two women were in love with him, were they? That must be a +comfort to look back upon, now, when nobody will have him. I see by +extracts from his newspaper in Galignani that he can't be accused of +temporising with the Socialists any longer, whatever other charge may +be brought against him: and if, as he says, it was he who made the +French republic, he is by no means irreproachable, having made a bad +and false thing. The President's letter about Rome[191] has delighted +us. A letter worth writing and reading! We read it first in the +Italian papers (long before it was printed in Paris), and the amusing +thing was that where he speaks of the 'hostile influences' (of the +cardinals) they had misprinted it '_orribili_ influenze,' which must +have turned still colder the blood in the veins of Absolutist readers. +The misprint was not corrected until long after--more than a week, I +think. The Pope is just a pope; and, since you give George Sand +credit for having known it, I am the more vexed that Blackwood (under +'orribili influenze') did not publish the poem I wrote two years +ago,[192] in the full glare and burning of the Pope-enthusiasm, which +Robert and I never caught for a moment. Then, _I_ might have passed +a little for a prophetess as well as George Sand! Only, to confess a +truth, the same poem would have proved how fairly I was taken in by +our Tuscan Grand Duke. Oh, the traitor! + +I saw the 'Ambarvalia'[193] reviewed somewhere--I fancy in the +'Spectator '--and was not much struck by the extracts. They may, +however, have been selected without much discrimination, and probably +were. I am very glad that you like the gipsy carol in dear Mr. +Kenyon's volume, because it is, and was in MS., a great favorite of +mine. There are excellent things otherwise, as must be when he says +them: one of the most radiant of benevolences with one of the most +refined of intellects! How the paper seems to dwindle as I would fain +talk on more. I have performed a great exploit, ridden on a donkey +five miles deep into the mountains to an almost inaccessible volcanic +ground not far from the stars. Robert on horseback, and Wilson and the +nurse (with baby) on other donkeys; guides, of course. We set off at +eight in the morning and returned at six P.M., after dining on the +mountain pinnacle, I dreadfully tired, but the child laughing as +usual, and burnt Brick-colour for all bad effect. No horse or ass, +untrained to the mountains, could have kept foot a moment where we +penetrated, and even as it was one could not help the natural thrill. +No road except the bed of exhausted torrents above and through the +chestnut forests, and precipitous beyond what you would think possible +for ascent or descent. Ravines tearing the ground to pieces under +your feet. The scenery, sublime and wonderful, satisfied us wholly, +however, as we looked round on the world of innumerable mountains +bound faintly with the grey sea, and not a human habitation. I hope +you will go to London this winter; it will be good for you, it seems +to me. Take care of yourself, my much and ever loved friend! I love +you and think of you indeed. Write of your health, remembering this, + +And your affectionate, +E.B.B. + +My husband's regards always. You had better, I think, direct to +_Florence_, as we shall be there in the course of October. + +[Footnote 190: Minister of the Interior in the Republic of 1848, and +one of the most prominent f the advanced Republican leaders.] + +[Footnote 191: A letter, addressed to a private friend but intended +to be made public, denouncing the reactionary and oppressive +administration of the restored Pope.] + +[Footnote 192: Probably the first part of _Casa Guidi Windows_.] + +[Footnote 193: By A.H. Clough and T. Burbidge.] + + +To Florence, accordingly, they returned in October, and settled down +once more in Casa Guidi for the winter. Mrs. Browning's principal +literary occupation at this time was the preparation of a new edition +of her poems, including nearly all the contents of the 'Seraphim' +volume of 1838, more or less revised, as well as the 'Poems' of +1844. This edition, published in 1850, has formed the basis of all +subsequent editions of her poems. Meanwhile her husband was engaged +in the preparation of 'Christmas Eve and Easter Day,' which was also +published in the course of 1850. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: December I, 1849. + +My ever loved friend, you will have wondered at this unusual silence; +and so will my sisters to whom I wrote just now, after a pause as +little in my custom. It was not the fault of my head and heart, but of +this unruly body, which has been laid up again in the way of all flesh +of mine.... + +I am well again now, only obliged to keep quiet and give up my grand +walking excursions, which poor Robert used to be so boastful of. If he +is vain about anything in the world, it is about my improved health, +and I used to say to him, 'But you needn't talk so much to people of +how your wife walked here with you and there with you, as if a wife +with a pair of feet was a miracle of nature.' Now the poor feet have +fallen into their old ways again. Ah, but if God pleases it won't be +for long.... + +The American authoress, Miss Fuller, with whom we had had some slight +intercourse by letter, and who has been at Rome during the siege, as +a devoted friend of the republicans and a meritorious attendant on +the hospitals, has taken us by surprise at Florence, retiring from the +Roman field with a husband and child above a year old. Nobody had even +suspected a word of this underplot, and her American friends stood in +mute astonishment before this apparition of them here. The husband is +a Roman marquis, appearing amiable and gentlemanly, and having fought +well, they say, at the siege, but with no pretension to cope with his +wife on any ground appertaining to the intellect. She talks, and he +listens. I always wonder at that species of marriage; but people are +so different in their matrimonial ideals that it may answer sometimes. +This Mdme. Ossoli saw George Sand in Paris--was at one of her +soirées--and called her 'a magnificent creature.' The soirée was 'full +of rubbish' in the way of its social composition, which George Sand +likes, _nota bene_. If Mdme. Ossoli called it '_rubbish_' it must have +been really rubbish--not expressing anything conventionally so--she +being one of the out and out _Reds_ and scorners of grades of society. +She said that she did not see Balzac. Balzac went into the world +scarcely at all, frequenting the lowest cafés, so that it was +difficult to track him out. Which information I receive doubtingly. +The rumours about Balzac with certain parties in Paris are not likely +to be too favorable nor at all reliable, I should fancy; besides, +I never entertain disparaging thoughts of my demi-gods unless they +should be forced upon me by evidence you must know. I have not made +a demi-god of Louis Napoleon, by the way--no, and I don't mean it. I +expect some better final result than he has just proved himself to be +of the French Revolution, with all its bitter and cruel consequences +hitherto, so I can't quite agree with you. Only so far, that he +has shown himself up to this point to be an upright man with noble +impulses, and that I give him much of my sympathy and respect in the +difficult position held by him. A man of genius he does not seem to +be--and what, after all, will he manage to do at Rome? I don't take +up the frantic Republican cry in Italy. I know too well the want of +knowledge and the consequent want of i effective faith and energy +among the Italians; but there is a stain upon France in the present +state of the Roman affair, and I don't shut my eyes to that either. To +cast Rome helpless and bound into the hands of the priests is dishonor +to the actors, however we consider the act; and for the sake of +France, even more than for the sake of Italy, I yearn to see the act +cancelled. Oh, we have had the sight of Clough and Burbidge, at last. +Clough has more thought, Burbidge more music; but I am disappointed +in the book on the whole. What I like infinitely better is Clough's +'Bothie of Toper-na-fuosich,' a 'long vacation pastoral,' written in +loose and more-than-need-be unmusical hexameters, but full of vigour +and freshness, and with passages and indeed whole scenes of great +beauty and eloquence. It seems to have been written before the other +poems. Try to get it, if you have not read it already. I feel certain +you will like it and think all the higher of the poet. Oh, it strikes +both Robert and me as being worth twenty of the other little book, +with its fragmentary, dislocated, unartistic character. Arnold's +volume has two good poems in it: 'The Sick King of Bokhara' and 'The +Deserted Merman.' I like them both. But none of these writers +are _artists_, whatever they may be in future days. Have you read +'Shirley,' and is it as good as 'Jane Eyre'? We heard not long since +that Mr. Chorley had discovered the author, _the_ 'Currer Bell.' A +woman, most certainly. We hear, too, that three large editions of the +'Princess' are sold. So much the happier for England and poetry. + +Dearest dear Miss Mitford, mind you write to me, and don't pay me out +in my own silence! _You_ have not been ill, I hope and trust. Write +and tell me every little thing of yourself--how you are, and whether +there is still danger of your being uprooted from Three Mile Cross. I +love and think of you always. Fancy Flush being taken in the light +of a rival by baby! Oh, baby was quite jealous the other day, and +strugggled and kicked to get to me because he saw Flush leaning his +pretty head on my lap. There's a great strife for privileges between +those two. May God bless you! My husband's kind regards always, while +I am your most + +Affectionate +E.B.B. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: January 9, 1850. + +Thank you, ever dearest Miss Mitford, for this welcome letter written +on your birthday! May the fear of small-pox have passed away long +before now, and every hope and satisfaction have strengthened and +remained!... + +May God bless you and give you many happy years, you who can do so +much towards the happiness of others. May I not answer for my own?... + +Little Wiedeman began to crawl on Christmas Day. Before, he used to +roll. We throw things across the floor and he crawls for them like a +little dog, on all fours.... + +He has just caught a cold, which I make more fuss about than I ought, +say the wise; but I can't get resigned to the association of any sort +of suffering with his laughing dimpled little body--it is the blowing +about in the wind of such a heap of roses. So you prefer 'Shirley' to +'Jane Eyre'! Yet I hear from nobody such an opinion; yet you are very +probably right, for 'Shirley' may suffer from the natural reaction +of the public mind. What you tell me of Tennyson interests me +as everything about him must. I like to think of him digging +gardens--room for cabbage and all. At the same time, what he says +about the public '_hating_ poetry' is certainly not a word for +Tennyson. Perhaps no true poet, having claims upon attention _solely_ +through his poetry, has attained so certain a success with such short +delay. Instead of being pelted (as nearly every true poet has been), +he stands already on a pedestal, and is recognised as a master spirit +not by a coterie but by the great public. Three large editions of the +'Princess' have already been sold. If he isn't satisfied after all, I +think he is wrong. Divine poet as he is, and no laurel being too leafy +for him, yet he must be an unreasonable man, and not understanding +of the growth of the laurel trees and the nature of a reading public. +With regard to the other garden-digger, dear Mr. Home, I wish as you +do that I could hear something satisfactory of him. I wrote from Lucca +in the summer, and have no answer. The latest word concerning him is +the announcement in the 'Athenaeum' of a third edition of his 'Gregory +the Seventh,' which we were glad to see, but very, very glad we should +be to have news of his prosperity in the flesh as well as in the +_litterae scriptae_.... + +I have not been out of doors these two months, but people call me +'looking well,' and a newly married niece of Miss Bayley's, the +accomplished Miss Thomson, who has become the wife of Dr. Emil Braun +(the learned German secretary of the Archaeological Society), and just +passed through Florence on her way to Rome, where they are to reside, +declared that the change she saw in me was miraculous--'wonderful +indeed.' I took her to look at Wiedeman in his cradle, fast asleep, +and she won my heart (over again, for always she was a favorite of +mine) by exclaiming at his prettiness. Charmed, too, we both were +with Dr. Braun--I mean Robert and I were charmed. He has a mixture of +fervour and simplicity which is still more delightfully picturesque +in his foreign English. Oh, he speaks English perfectly, only with an +obvious accent enough. I am sure we should be cordial friends, if the +lines had fallen to us in the same pleasant places; but he is fixed +at Rome, and we are half afraid of the enervating effects of the Roman +climate on the constitutions of children. Tell me, do you hear often +from Mr. Chorley? It quite pains us to observe from his manner of +writing the great depression of his spirits. His mother was ill in +the summer, but plainly the sadness does not arise entirely or chiefly +from this cause. He seems to me over-worked, taxed in the spirit. I +advise nobody to give up work; but that 'Athenaeum' labour is a sort +of treadmill discipline in which there is no progress, nor triumph, +and I do wish he would give that up and come out to us with a new set +of anvils and hammers. Only, of course, he couldn't do it, even if he +would, while there is illness in his family. May there be a whole sun +of success shining on the new play! Robert is engaged on a poem,[194] +and I am busy with my edition. So much to correct, I find, and many +poems to add. Plainly 'Jane Eyre' was by a woman. It used to astound +me when sensible people said otherwise. Write to me, will you? I long +to hear again. Tell me everything of yourself; accept my husband's +true regards, and think of me as your + +Ever affectionate +E.B.B. + +[Footnote 194: _Christmas Eve and Easter Day_.] + + +_To Miss Browning_ +Florence: January 29, 1850. + +My dearest Sarianna,--I have waited to thank you for your great and +ready kindness about the new edition, until now when it is fairly on +its way to England. Thank you, thank you! I am only afraid, not that +you will find anything too 'learned,' as you suggest, but a good many +things too careless, I was going to say, only Robert, with various +deep sighs for 'his poor Sarianna,' devoted himself during several +days to rearranging my arrangements, and simplifying my complications. +It was the old story of Order and Disorder over again. He pulled out +the knotted silks with an indefatigable patience, so that really +you will owe to _him_ every moment of ease and facility which may be +enjoyable in the course of the work. I am afraid that at the easiest +you will find it a vexatious business, but I throw everything on +your kindness, and am not distrustful on such a point of weights and +measures. + +Your letter was full of sad news. Robert was deeply affected at the +account of the illness of his cousin--was in tears before he could end +the letter. I do hope that in a day or two we may hear from you that +the happy change was confirmed as time passed on. I do hope so; it +will be joy, not merely to Robert, but to me, for indeed I never +forget the office which his kindness performed for both of us at a +crisis ripe with all the happiness of my life. + +Then it was sad to hear of your dear father suffering from lumbago. +May the last of it have passed away long before you get what I am +writing! Tell him with my love that Wiedeman shall hear some day (if +we all live) the verses he wrote to him; and I have it in my head that +little Wiedeman will be very sensitive to verses and kindness too--he +likes to hear anything rhythmical and musical, and he likes to +be petted and kissed--the most affectionate little creature he +is--sitting on my knee, while I give him books to turn the leaves +over (a favorite amusement), every two minutes he puts up his little +rosebud of a mouth to have a kiss. His cold is quite gone, and he has +taken advantage of the opportunity to grow still fatter; as to his +activities, there's no end to them. His nurse and I agree that he +doesn't remain quiet a moment in the day....[195] + +Now the love of nephews can't bear any more, Sarianna, can it? Only +your father will take my part and say that it isn't tedious--beyond +pardoning. + +May God bless both of you, and enable you to send a brighter letter +next time. Robert will be very anxious. + +Your ever affectionate sister +BA. +Mention yourself, _do_. + +[Footnote 195: A long description of the baby's meals and daily +programme follows, the substance of which can probably be imagined by +connoisseurs in the subject.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: February 18, 1850. + +Ever dearest Miss Mitford, you _always_ give me pleasure, so for +love's sake don't say that you 'seldom give it,' and such a magical +act as conjuring up for me the sight of a new poem by Alfred +Tennyson[196] is unnecessary to prove you a right beneficent +enchantress. Thank you, thank you. We are not so unworthy of your +redundant kindness as to abuse it by a word spoken or sign signified. +You may trust us indeed. But now you know how free and sincere I +am always! Now tell me. Apart from the fact of this lyric's being a +fragment of fringe from the great poet's 'singing clothes' (as Leigh +Hunt says somewhere), and apart from a certain sweetness and rise and +fall in the rhythm, do you really see much for admiration in the poem? +Is it _new_ in, any way? I admire Tennyson with the most worshipping +part of the multitude, as you are aware, but I do _not_ perceive much +in this lyric, which strikes me, and Robert also (who goes with me +throughout), as quite inferior to the other lyrical snatches in the +'Princess.' By the way, if he introduces it in the 'Princess,' it +will be the only _rhymed_ verse in the work. Robert thinks that he was +thinking of the Rhine echoes in writing it, and not of any heard in +his Irish travels. I hear that Tennyson has taken rooms above Mr. +Forster's in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and is going to try a London life. +So says Mr. Kenyon.... I am writing with an easier mind than when +I wrote last, for I was for a little time rendered very unhappy (so +unhappy that I couldn't touch on the subject, which is always the way +with me when pain passes a certain point), by hearing accidentally +that papa was unwell and looking altered. My sister persisted in +replying to my anxieties that they were unfounded, that I was quite +absurd, indeed, in being anxious at all; only people are not generally +reformed from their absurdities through being scolded for them. Now, +however, it really appears that the evil has passed. He left his +doctor who had given him lowering medicines, and, coincidently with +the leaving, he has recovered looks and health altogether. Arabel says +that I should think he was looking as well as ever, if I saw him, and +that appetite and spirits are even redundant. Thank God.... To +have this good news has made me very happy, and I overflow to you +accordingly. Oh, there is pain enough from that quarter, without +hearing of his being out of health. I write to him continually and +he does not now return my letters, which is a melancholy something +gained. Now enough of such a subject. + +I certainly don't think that the qualities, half savage and half +freethinking, expressed in 'Jane Eyre' are likely to suit a model +governess or schoolmistress; and it amuses me to consider them in +that particular relation. Your account falls like dew upon the parched +curiosity of some of our friends here, to whom (as mere gossip, which +did not leave you responsible) I couldn't resist the temptation +of communicating it. People _are_ so curious--even here among the +Raffaels--about this particular authorship, yet nobody seems to have +read 'Shirley'; we are too slow in getting new books. First Galignani +has to pirate them himself, and then to hand us over the spoils. +By the way, there's to be an international copyright, isn't there? +Something is talked of it in the 'Athenaeum.' Meanwhile the Americans +have already reprinted my husband's new edition. 'Landthieves, I mean +pirates.' I used to take that for a slip of the pen in Shakespeare; +but it was a slip of the pen into prophecy. Sorry I am at Mrs. ---- +falling short of your warm-hearted ideas about her! Can you understand +a woman's hating a girl because it is not a boy--her first child too? +I understand it so little that scarcely I can believe it. Some women +_have_, however, undeniably an indifference to children, just as many +men have, though it must be unnatural and morbid in both sexes. +Men often affect it--very foolishly, if they count upon the scenic +effects; affectation never succeeds well, and this sort of affectation +is peculiarly unbecoming, except in old bachelors, for there is a +pathetic side to the question so viewed. For my part and my husband's, +we may be frank and say that we have caught up our parental pleasures +with a sort of passion. But then, Wiedeman is such a darling little +creature; who _could_ help loving the child?... Little darling! So +much mischief was not often put before into so small a body. Fancy +the child's upsetting the water jugs till he is drenched (which charms +him), pulling the brooms to pieces, and having serious designs upon +cutting up his frocks with a pair of scissors. He laughs like an imp +when he can succeed in doing anything wrong. Now, see what you get, in +return for your kindness of 'liking to hear about' him! Almost I have +the grace to be ashamed a little. Just before I had your letter we +sent my new edition to England. I gave much time to the revision, and +did not omit reforming some of the rhymes, although you must consider +that the irregularity of these in a certain degree rather falls in +with my system than falls out through my carelessness. So much the +worse, you will say, when a person is _systematically_ bad. The work +will include the best poems of the 'Seraphim' volume, strengthened and +improved as far as the circumstances admitted of. I had not the heart +to leave out the wretched sonnet to yourself, for your dear sake; but +I rewrote the latter half of it (for really it wasn't a sonnet at all, +and 'Una and her lion' are rococo), and so placed it with my other +poems of the same class. There are some new, verses also.[197] The +Miss Hardings I have seen, and talked with them of _you_, a sure way +of finding them delightful. But, my dearest friend, I shall not see +any of the Trollope party--it is not likely. You can scarcely image to +yourself the retired life we live, or how we have retreated from +the kind advances of the English society here. Now people seem to +understand that we are to be left alone; that nothing is to be made of +us. The fact is, we are not like our child, who kisses everybody who +smiles at him! Neither my health nor our pecuniary circumstances, nor +our inclinations perhaps, would admit of our entering into English +society here, which is kept up much after the old English models, with +a proper disdain for Continental simplicities of expense. We have just +heard from Father Prout, who often, he says, sees Mr. Horne, 'who is +as dreamy as ever.' So glad I am, for I was beginning to be uneasy +about him. He has not answered my letter from Lucca. The verses in the +'Athenaeum'[198] are on Sophia Cottrell's child. + +May God bless you, dearest friend. Speak of _yourself_ more +particularly to your ever affectionate + +E.B.B. + +Robert's kindest regards. Tell us of Mr. Chorley's play, do. + +[Footnote 196: Apparently the _Echo-song_ which now precedes canto +iv. of the _Princess_, though one is surprised at the opinion here +expressed of it. It will be remembered that this and the other lyrical +interludes did not appear in the original edition of the _Princess_.] + +[Footnote 197: Notably the _Sonnets from the Portuguese_.] + +[Footnote 198: 'A Child's Death at Florence,' which appeared in the +_Athenaeum_ of December 22, 1849.] + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Florence: February 22, 1850. + +My dearest Mrs. Martin,--Have you wondered that I did not write +before? It was not that I did not thank you in my heart for your kind, +considerate letter, but I was unconquerably uncomfortable about papa; +and, what with the weather, which always has me in its power somehow, +and other things, I fell into a dislike of writing, which I hope you +didn't mistake for ingratitude, because it was not in the least like +the same fault. Now the severe weather (such weather for Italy!) has +broken up, and I am relieved in all ways, having received the most +happy satisfactory news from Wimpole Street, and the assurance from my +sisters that if I were to see papa I should think him looking as well +as ever. He grew impatient with Dr. Elliotson's medicines which, it +appears, were of a very lowering character--suddenly gave them up, +and as suddenly recovered his looks and all the rest, and everybody +at home considers him to be _quite well_. It has relieved me of a +mountain's weight, and I thank God with great joy. Oh, you must have +understood how natural it was for me to be unhappy under the other +circumstances. But if you thought, dearest friend, that _they_ +were necessary to induce me to write to him the humblest and most +beseeching of letters, you do not know how I feel his alienation or my +own love for him. I With regard to my brothers, it is quite different, +though even towards _them_ I may faithfully say that my affection +has borne itself higher than my pride. But as to papa, I have never +contended about the right or the wrong, I have never irritated him by +seeming to suppose that his severity to me has been more than justice. +I have confined myself simply to a supplication for--his forgiveness +of what he called, in his own words, the only fault of my life towards +him, and an expression of the love which even I must feel I for him, +whether he forgives me or not. This has been done in letter after +letter, and they are not sent back--it is all. In my last letter, I +ventured to ask him to let it be an understood thing that he should +before the world, and to every practical purpose, act out his idea of +justice by excluding me formally, me and mine, from every advantage +he intended his other children--that, having so been just, he might +afford to be merciful by giving me his forgiveness and affection--all +I asked and desired. My husband and I had talked this over again and +again; only it was a difficult thing to say, you see. At last I took +courage and said it, because, doing it, papa might seem to himself to +reconcile his notion of strict justice, and whatever remains of pity +and tenderness might still be in his heart towards me, if there are +any such. I _know_ he has strong feelings at bottom--otherwise, should +I love him so?--but he has adopted a bad system, and he (as well as I) +is crushed by it.... If I were to write to you the political rumours +we hear every day, you would scarcely think our situation improved in +safety by the horrible Austrian army. Florence bristles with cannon on +all sides, and at the first movement we are promised to be bombarded. +On the other hand, if the red republicans get uppermost there will be +a universal massacre; not a priest, according to their own profession, +will be left alive in Italy. The constitutional party hope they are +gaining strength, but the progress which depends on intellectual +growth must necessarily be slow. That the Papacy has for ever lost its +prestige and power over souls is the only evident truth; bright and +strong enough to cling to. I hear even devout women say: 'This cursed +Pope! it's all his fault.' Protestant places of worship are thronged +with Italian faces, and the minister of the Scotch church at Leghorn +has been threatened with exclusion from the country if he admits +Tuscans to the church communion. Politically speaking, much will +depend upon France, and I have strong hope for France, though it is +so strictly the fashion to despair of her. Tell me dear Mr. Martin's +impression and your own--everything is good that comes from you. But +most _particularly_, tell me how you both are--tell me whether you are +strong again, dearest Mrs. Martin, for indeed I do not like to hear of +your being in the least like an invalid. Do speak of yourself a little +more. Do you know, you are very unsatisfactory as a letter-writer when +you write about yourself--the reason being that you never do write +about yourself except by the suddenest snatches, when you can't +possibly help the reference.... + +Robert sends his true regards with those of your +Gratefully affectionate +BA. + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +April 2, [1850]. + +You have perhaps thought us ungrateful people, my ever dear friend, +for this long delay in thanking you for your beautiful and welcome +present.[199] Here is the truth. Though we had the books from Rome +last month, they were snatched from us by impatient hands before we +had finished the first volume. The books are hungered and thirsted +for in Florence, and, although the English reading club has them, +they can't go fast enough from one to another. Four of our friends +entreated us for the reversion, and although it really is only +just that we should be let read our own books first, yet Robert's +generosity can't resist the need of this person who is 'going away,' +and of that person who is 'so particularly anxious'--for particular +reasons perhaps--so we renounce the privilege you gave us (with the +pomps of this world) and are still waiting to finish even the first +volume. Our cultivated friends the Ogilvys, who had the work from us +earliest, because they were going to Naples, were charmed with it. Mr. +Kirkup the artist, who disputes with Mr. Bezzi the glory of finding +Dante's portrait--yes, and breathes fire in the dispute--has it now. +Madame Ossoli, Margaret Fuller, the American authoress, who brought +from the siege of Rome a noble marquis as her husband, asks for it. +And your adorer Mr. Stuart, who has lectured upon Shakespeare all +the winter, entreats for it. So when we shall be free to enjoy it +thoroughly for ourselves remains doubtful. Robert promises every day, +'You shall have it next, certainly,' and I only hope you will put +him and me in your next edition of the martyrs, for such a splendid +exercise of the gifts of self-renunciation. But don't fancy that +we have not been delighted with the sight of the books, with your +kindness, and besides with the impressions gathered from a rapid +examination of the qualities of the work. It seems to us in every +way a valuable and most interesting work; it must render itself +a _necessity_ for art students, and general readers and seers of +pictures like me, who carry rather sentiment than science into +the consideration of such subjects. We much admire your +introduction--excellent in all ways, besides the grace and eloquence. +Altogether, the work must set you higher with a high class of the +public, and I congratulate you on what is the gain of all of us. +Robert has begun a little pencil list of trifling criticisms he means +to finish. We both cry aloud at what you say of Guercino's angels, +and never would have said if you had been to Fano and seen his divine +picture of the 'Guardian Angel,' which affects me every time I think +of it. Our little Wiedeman had his part of pleasure in the book by +being let look at the engravings. He screamed for joy at the miracle +of so many bird-men, and kissed some of them very reverentially, which +is his usual way of expressing admiration.... + +Whether you will like Robert's new book I don't know, but I am sure +you will admit the originality and power in it. I wish we had the +option of giving it to you, but Chapman & Hall never seem to think +of our giving copies away, nor leave them at our disposal. There is +nothing _Italian_ in the book; poets are apt to be most present with +the distant. A remark of Wilson's[200] used to strike me as eminently +true--that the perfectest descriptive poem (descriptive of rural +scenery) would _be_ naturally produced in a London cellar. I have read +'Shirley' lately; it is not equal to 'Jane Eyre' in spontaneousness +and earnestness. I found it heavy, I confess, though in the mechanical +part of the writing--the compositional _savoir faire_--there is an +advance. Robert has exhumed some French books, just now, from a little +circulating library which he had not tried, and we have been making +ourselves uncomfortable over Balzac's 'Cousin Pons.' But what a +wonderful writer he is! Who else could have taken such a subject, out +of the lowest mud of humanity, and glorified and consecrated it? He is +wonderful--there is not another word for him--profound, as Nature is. +S I complain of Florence for the want of books. We have to dig and dig +before we can get anything new, and _I_ can read the newspapers only +through Robert's eyes, who only can read them at Vieusseux's in a room +sacred from the foot of woman. And this isn't always satisfactory to +me, as whenever he falls into a state of disgust with any political +_régime_, he throws the whole subject over and won't read a word +more about it. Every now and then, for instance, he ignores France +altogether, and I, who am more tolerant and more curious, find myself +suspended over an hiatus _(valde deflendus_), and what's to be said +and done? M. Thiers' speech--'Thiers is a rascal; I make a point of +not reading one word said by M. Thiers.' M. Prudhon--'Prudhon is a +madman; who cares for Prudhon?' The President--'The President's an +ass; _he_ is not worth thinking of.' And so we treat of politics. + +I wish you would write to us a little oftener (or rather, a good deal) +and tell us much of yourself. It made me very sorry that you should +be suffering in the grief of your sister--you whose sympathies are so +tender and quick! May it be better with you now! Mention Lady Byron. I +shall be glad to hear that she is stronger notwithstanding this cruel +winter. We have lovely weather here now, and I am quite well and able +to walk out, and little Wiedeman rolls with Flush on the grass of +the Cascine. Dear kind Wilson is doatingly fond of the child, and +sometimes gives it as her serious opinion that 'there never _was_ such +a child before.' Of course I don't argue the point much. Now, will +you write to us? Speak of your plans particularly when you do. We have +taken this apartment on for another year from May. May God bless you! +Robert unites in affectionate thanks and thoughts of all kinds, with +your + +E.B.B.--rather, BA. + +This letter has waited some days to be sent away, as you will see by +the date. + +[Footnote 199: Mrs. Jameson's _Legends of the Monastic Orders_, which +had just been published.] + +[Footnote 200: Presumably _not_ Mrs. Browning's maid, but 'Christopher +North.'] + + +At the end of March 1850, the long-deferred marriage of Mrs. +Browning's sister, Henrietta, to Captain Surtees Cook took place. It +is of interest here mainly as illustrating Mr. Barrett's behaviour +to his daughters. An application for his consent only elicited the +pronouncement, 'If Henrietta marries you, she turns her back on this +house for ever,' and a letter to Henrietta herself reproaching her +with the 'insult' she had offered him in asking his consent when she +had evidently made up her mind to the conclusion, and declaring +that, if she married, her name should never again be mentioned in his +presence. The marriage having thereupon taken place, his decision was +forthwith put into practice, and a second child was thenceforward an +exile from her father's house. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: [end of] April 1850. + +You will have seen in the papers, dearest friend, the marriage of my +sister Henrietta, and will have understood why I was longer silent +than usual. Indeed, the event has much moved me, and so much of the +emotion was painful--painfulness being inseparable from events of the +sort in our family--that I had to make an effort to realise to myself +the reasonable degree of gladness and satisfaction in her release from +a long, anxious, transitional state, and her prospect of happiness +with a man who has loved her constantly and who is of an upright, +honest, reliable, and religious mind. Our father's objections were to +his Tractarian opinions and insufficient income. I have no sympathy +myself with Tractarian opinions, but I cannot under the circumstances +think an objection of the kind tenable by a third person, and in truth +we all know that if it had not been this objection, it would have been +another--there was no escape any way. An engagement of five years +and an attachment still longer were to have some results; and I can't +regret, or indeed do otherwise than approve from my heart, what she +has done from hers. Most of her friends and relatives have considered +that there was no choice, and that her step is abundantly justified. +At the same time, I thank God that a letter sent to me to ask my +advice never reached me (the _second_ letter of my sisters' lost, +since I left them), because no advice _ought_ to be given on any +subject of the kind, and because I, especially, should have shrunk +from accepting such a responsibility. So I only heard of the marriage +three days before it took place--no, four days before--and was upset, +as you may suppose, by the sudden news. Captain Surtees Cook's sister +was one of the bridesmaids, and his brother performed the ceremony. +The _means_ are very small of course--he has not much, and my sister +has nothing--still it seems to me that they will have enough to live +prudently on, and he looks out for a further appointment. Papa 'will +never again let her name be mentioned in his hearing,' he _says_, but +we must hope. The dreadful business passed off better on the whole +than poor Arabel expected, and things are going on as quietly as +usual in Wimpole Street now. I feel deeply for _her_, who in her +pure disinterestedness just pays the price and suffers the loss. +She represents herself, however, to be relieved at the crisis being +passed. I earnestly hope for her sake that we may be able to get to +England this year--a sight of us will be some comfort. Henrietta is to +live at Taunton for the present, as he has a military situation there, +and they are preparing for a round of visits among their many friends +who are anxious to have them previous to their settling. All this, you +see, will throw me back with papa, even if I can be supposed to have +gained half a step, and I doubt it. Oh yes, dearest Miss Mitford. I +have indeed again and again thought of your 'Emily,' stripping the +situation of 'the favour and prettiness' associated with that heroine. +Wiedeman might compete, though, in darlingness with the child, as the +poem shows him. Still, I can accept no omen. My heart sinks when I +dwell upon peculiarities difficult to analyse. I love him very deeply. +When I write to him, I lay myself at his feet. Even if I had gained +half a step (and I doubt it, as I said), see how I must be thrown back +by the indisposition to receive others. But I cannot write of this +subject. Let us change it.... + +Madame Ossoli sails for America in a few days, with the hope of +returning to Italy, and indeed I cannot believe that her Roman husband +will be easily naturalised among the Yankees. A very interesting +person she is, far better than her writings--thoughtful, spiritual +in her habitual mode of mind; not only exalted, but _exaltée_ in her +opinions, and yet calm in manner. We shall be sorry to lose her. We +have lost, besides, our friends Mr. and Mrs. Ogilvy, cultivated and +refined people: they occupied the floor above us the last winter, and +at the Baths of Lucca and Florence we have seen much of them for +a year past. She published some time since a volume of 'Scottish +Minstrelsy,' graceful and flowing, and aspires strenuously towards +poetry; a pretty woman with three pretty children, of quick +perceptions and active intelligence and sensibility. They are upright, +excellent people in various ways, and it is a loss to us that they +should have gone to Naples now. Dearest friend, how your letter +delighted me with its happy account of your improved strength. Take +care of yourself, do, to lose no ground. The power of walking must +refresh your spirits as well as widen your daily pleasures. I am so +glad. Thank God. We have heard from Mr. Chorley, who seems to have +received very partial gratification in respect to his play and yet +prepares for more plays, more wrestlings in the same dust. Well, I +can't make it out. A man of his sensitiveness to choose to appeal to +the coarsest side of the public--which, whatever you dramatists may +say, you all certainly do--is incomprehensible to me. Then I cannot +help thinking that he might achieve other sorts of successes more +easily and surely. Your criticism is very just. But _I_ like his +'Music and Manners in Germany' better than anything he has done. I +believe I always _did_ like it best, and since coming to Florence I +have heard cultivated Americans speak of it with enthusiasm, yes, with +enthusiasm. 'Pomfret' they would scarcely believe to be by the same +author. I agree with you, but it is a pity indeed for him to tie +himself to the wheels of the 'Athenaeum,' to _approfondir_ the ruts; +what other end? And, by the way, the 'Athenaeum,' since Mr. Dilke +left it, has grown duller and duller, colder and colder, flatter +and flatter. Mr. Dilke was not brilliant, but he was a Brutus in +criticism; and though it was his speciality to condemn his most +particular friends to the hangman, the survivors thought there was +something grand about it on the whole, and nobody could hold him in +contempt. Now it is all different. We have not even 'public virtue' to +fasten our admiration to. You will be sure to think I am vexed at the +article on my husband's new poem.[201] Why, certainly I am vexed! Who +would _not_ be vexed with such misunderstanding and mistaking. Dear +Mr. Chorley writes a letter to appreciate most generously: so you see +how little power he has in the paper to insert an opinion, or stop an +injustice. On the same day came out a burning panegyric of six columns +in the 'Examiner,' a curious cross-fire. If you read the little book +(I wish I could send you a copy, but Chapman & Hall have not offered +us copies, and you will catch sight of it somewhere), I hope you will +like things in it at least. It seems to me full of power. Two hundred +copies went off in the first fortnight, which is a good beginning +in these days. So I am to confess to a satisfaction in the American +piracies. Well, I confess, then. Only it is rather a complex smile +with which one hears: 'Sir or Madam, we are selling your book at half +price, as well printed as in England.' 'Those apples we stole from +your garden, we sell at a halfpenny, instead of a penny as you do; +they are much appreciated.' Very gratifying indeed. It's worth +while to rob us, that's plain, and there's something magnificent in +supplying a distant market with apples out of one's garden. Still the +smile is complex in its character, and the morality--simple, that's +all I meant to say. A letter from Henrietta and her husband, glowing +with happiness; it makes _me_ happy. She says, 'I wonder if I shall be +as happy as you, Ba.' God grant it. It was signified to her that she +should at once give up her engagement of five years, or leave the +house. She married directly. I do not understand how it could be +otherwise, indeed. My brothers have been kind and affectionate, I am +glad to say; in her case, poor dearest papa does injustice chiefly to +his own nature, by these severities, hard as they seem. Write soon and +talk of yourself to + +Ever affectionate +BA. + +I am rejoicing in the People's Edition of your work. 'Viva!' (Robert's +best regards.) + +[Footnote 201: The _Athenaeum_ review of _Christmas Eve and Easter +Day_, while recognising the beauty of many passages in the two poems, +criticised strongly the discussion of theological subjects in 'doggrel +verse;' and its analysis of the theology would hardly be satisfactory +to the author.] + + +_To Mrs. Jameson_ +Florence: May 4, [1850], + +Dearest Friend,--This little note will be given to you by the Mr. +Stuart of whom I once told you that he was holding you up to the +admiration of all Florence and the Baths of Lucca as the best English +critic of Shakespeare, in his lectures on the great poet.... + +Robert bids me say that he wrote you a constrained half-dozen lines +by Mr. Henry Greenough, who asked for a letter of introduction to you, +while the asker was sitting in the room, and the form of 'dear Mrs. +Jameson' couldn't well be escaped from. He loves you as well as ever, +you are to understand, through every complication of forms, and you +are to love him, and _me_, for I come in as a part of him, if you +please. Did you get my thanks for the dear Petrarch pen (so steeped in +double-distilled memories that it seems scarcely fit to be steeped in +ink), and our appreciation as well as gratitude for the books--which, +indeed, charm us more and more? Robert has been picking up pictures at +a few pauls each, 'hole and corner' pictures which the 'dealers' had +not found out; and the other day he covered himself with glory by +discovering and seizing on (in a corn shop a mile from Florence) five +pictures among heaps of trash; and one of the best judges in Florence +(Mr. Kirkup) throws out such names for them as Cimabue, Ghirlandaio, +Giottino, a crucifixion painted on a banner, Giottesque, if not +Giotto, but _unique_, or nearly so, on account of the linen material, +and a little Virgin by a Byzantine master. The curious thing is that +two angel pictures, for which he had given a scudo last year, prove +to have been each sawn off the sides of the Ghirlandaio, so called, +representing the 'Eterno Padre' clothed in a mystical garment and +encircled by a rainbow, the various tints of which, together with the +scarlet tips of the flying seraphs' wings, are darted down into the +smaller pictures and complete the evidence, line for line. It has been +a grand altar-piece, cut to bits. Now come and see for yourself. We +can't say decidedly yet whether it will be possible or impossible for +us to go to England this year, but in any case you must come to see +Gerardine and Italy, and we shall manage to catch you by the skirts +then--so do come. Never mind the rumbling of political thunders, +because, even if a storm breaks, you will slip under cover in these +days easily, whether in France or Italy. I can't make out, for my +part, how anybody can be afraid of such things. + +Will you be among the likers or dislikers, I wonder sometimes, of +Robert's new book? The _faculty_, you will recognise, in all cases; he +can do anything he chooses. I have complained of the _asceticism_ in +the second part, but he said it was 'one side of the question.' Don't +think that he has taken to the cilix--indeed he has not--but it is his +way to _see_ things as passionately as other people _feel_ them.... + +Chapman & Hall offer us no copies, or you should have had one, of +course. So Wordsworth is gone--a great light out of heaven. + +May God bless you, my dear friend! + +Love your affectionate and grateful, for so many +reasons, +BA. + + +The death of Wordsworth on April 23 left the Laureateship vacant, +and though there was probably never any likelihood of Mrs. Browning's +being invited to succeed him, it is worth noticing that her claims +were advocated by so prominent a paper as the 'Athenaeum,' which not +only urged that the appointment would be eminently suitable under a +female sovereign, but even expressed its opinion that 'there is no +living poet of either sex who can prefer a higher claim than Mrs. +Elizabeth Barrett Browning.' No doubt there would have been a certain +appropriateness in the post of Laureate to a Queen being held by a +poetess, but the claims of Tennyson to the primacy of English poetry +were rightly regarded as paramount. The fact that in Robert Browning +there was a poet of equal calibre with Tennyson, though of so +different a type, seems to have occurred to no one. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: June 15, 1850. + +My ever dear Friend,--How it grieves me that you should have been +so unwell again! From what you say about the state of the house, I +conclude that your health suffers from that cause precisely; and that +when you are warmly and dryly walled in, you will be less liable to +these attacks, grievous to your friends as to you. Oh, I don't praise +anybody, I assure you, for wishing to entice you to live near them. +We come over the Alps for a sunny climate; what should we not do for +a moral atmosphere like yours? I dare say you have chosen excellently +your new residence, and I hope you will get over the fuss of it with +great courage, remembering the advantages which it is likely to secure +to you. Tell me as much as you can about it all, that I may shift the +scene in the right grooves, and be able to imagine you to myself out +of Three Mile Cross. You have the local feeling so eminently that I +have long been resolved on never asking you to migrate. Doves +won't travel with swallows; who should persuade them? This is no +migration--only a shifting from one branch to another. With Reading +on one side of you still, you will lose nothing, neither sight nor +friend. Oh, do write to me as soon as you can, and say that the +deepening summer has done you good and given you strength; say it, +if possible. I shall be very anxious for the next letter.... My only +objection to Florence is the distance from London, and the expense of +the journey. One's heart is pulled at through different English +ties and can't get the right rest, and I think we shall move +northwards--try France a little, after a time. The present year has +been full of petty vexation to us about the difficulty of going to +England, and it becomes more and more doubtful whether we can attain +to the means of doing it. There are four of us and the child, you +see, and precisely this year we are restricted in means, as far as our +present knowledge goes; but I can't say yet, only I do very much +fear. Nobody will believe our promises, I think, any more, and my +poor Arabel will be in despair, and I shall lose the opportunity of +_authenticating_ Wiedeman; for, as Robert says, all our fine stories +about him will go for nothing, and he will be set down as a sham +child. If not sham, how could human vanity resist the showing him off +bodily? That sounds reasonable.... + +Certainly you are disinterested about America, and, of course, all +of us who have hearts and heads must feel the sympathy of a greater +nation to be more precious than a thick purse. Still, it is not just +and dignified, this vantage ground of American pirates. Liking the +ends and motives, one disapproves the means. Yes, even _you_ do; and +if I were an American I should dissent with still more emphasis. It +should be made a point of honour with the nation, if there is no +point of law against the re publishers. For my own part, I have every +possible reason to thank and love America; she has been very kind to +me, and the visits we receive here from delightful and cordial persons +of that country have been most gratifying to us. The American minister +at the court of Vienna, with his family, did not pass through Florence +the other day without coming to see us--General Watson Webbe-with +an air of moral as well as military command in his brow and eyes. He +looked, and talked too, like one of oar dignities of the Old World. +The go-ahead principle didn't seem the least over-strong in him, nor +likely to disturb his official balance. What is to happen next in +France? Do you trust still your President? He is in a hard position, +and, if he leaves the Pope where he is, in a dishonored one. As for +the change in the electoral law and the increase of income, I see +nothing in either to make an outcry against. There is great injustice +everywhere and a rankling party-spirit, and to speak the truth and act +it appears still more difficult than usual. I was sorry, do you know, +to hear of dear Mr. Horne's attempt at Shylock; he is fit for higher +things. Did I tell you how we received and admired his Judas Iscariot? +Yes, surely I did. He says that Louis Blanc is a friend of his and +much with him, speaking with enthusiasm. I should be more sorry at +his being involved with the Socialists than with Shylock--still more +sorry; for I love liberty so intensely that I hate Socialism. I hold +it to be the most desecrating and dishonouring to humanity of all +creeds. I would rather (for _me_) live under the absolutism of +Nicholas of Russia than in a Fourier machine, with my individuality +sucked out of me by a social air-pump. Oh, if you happen to write +again to Mrs. Deane, thank her much for her kind anxiety; but, indeed, +if I had lost my darling I should not write verses about it.[202] As +for the Laureateship, it won't be given to _me_, be sure, though the +suggestion has gone the round of the English newspapers--'Galignani' +and all--and notwithstanding that most kind and flattering +recommendation of the 'Athenaeum,' for which I am sure we should +be grateful to Mr. Chorley. I think Leigh Hunt should have the +Laureateship. He has condescended to wish for it, and has 'worn his +singing clothes' longer than most of his contemporaries, deserving +the price of long as well as noble service. Whoever has it will be, of +course, exempted from Court lays; and the distinction of the title and +pension should remain for Spenser's sake, if not for Wordsworth's. We +are very anxious to know about Tennyson's new work, 'In Memoriam.' +Do tell us about it. You are aware that it was written years ago, and +relates to a son of Mr. Hallam, who was Tennyson's intimate friend +and the betrothed of his sister. I have heard, through someone who had +seen the MS., that it is full of beauty and pathos.... Dearest, ever +dear Miss Mitford, speak particularly of your health. May God bless +you, prays + +Your ever affectionate +E.B.B. +Robert's kindest regards. + +[Footnote 202: Referring to the lines entitled _A Child's Grave at +Florence_, which had apparently been misunderstood as implying the +death of Mrs. Browning's own child.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: July 8, 1850. + +My dearest Miss Mitford,--I this moment have your note; and as a +packet of ours is going to England, I snatch up a pen to do what I can +with it in the brief moments between this and post time. I don't wait +till it shall be possible to write at length, because I have something +immediate to say to you. Your letter is delightful, yet it is not +for _that_ that I rush so upon answering it. Nor even is it for the +excellent news of your consenting, for dear Mr. Chorley's sake, to +give us some more of your 'papers,'[203] though 'blessed be the hour, +and month, and year' when he set about editing the 'Ladies' Companion' +and persuading you to do such a thing. No, what I want to say is +strictly personal to me. You are the kindest, warmest-hearted, most +affectionate of critics, and precisely as such it is that you have +thrown me into a paroxysm of terror. My dearest friend, _for the +love of me_--I don't argue the point with you--but I beseech you +humbly,--kissing the hem of your garment, and by all sacred and tender +recollections of sympathy between you and me, _don't_ breathe a word +about any juvenile performance of mine--_don't_, if you have any love +left for me. Dear friend, 'disinter' anybody or anything you please, +but don't disinter _me_, unless you mean the ghost of my vexation to +vex you ever after. 'Blessed be she who spares these stones.' All the +saints know that I have enough to answer for since I came to my +mature mind, and that I had difficulty enough in making most of the +'Seraphim' volume presentable a little in my new edition, because it +was too ostensible before the public to be caught back; but if the +sins of my rawest juvenility are to be thrust upon me--and sins are +extant of even twelve or thirteen, or earlier, and I was in print once +when I was ten, I think--what is to become of me? I shall groan +as loud as Christian did. Dearest Miss Mitford, now forgive this +ingratitude which is gratitude all the time. I love you and thank you; +but, right or wrong, mind what I say, and let me love and thank you +still more. When you see my new edition you will see that everything +worth a straw I ever wrote is there, and if there were strength in +conjuration I would conjure you to pass an act of oblivion on the +stubble that remains--if anything does remain, indeed. Now, more than +enough of this. For the rest, I am delighted. I am even so generous as +not to be jealous of Mr. Chorley for prevailing with you when nobody +else could. I had given it up long ago; I never thought you would stir +a pen again. By what charm did he prevail? Your series of papers will +be delightful, I do not doubt; though I never could see anything in +some of your heroes, American or Irish. Longfellow is a poet; I don't +refer to _him_. Still, whatever you say will be worth hearing, and the +_guide_ through 'Pompeii' will be better than many of the ruins. 'The +Pleader's Guide' I never heard of before. Praed has written some +sweet and tender things. Then I shall like to hear you on Beaumont and +Fletcher, and Andrew Marvell. + +I have seen nothing of Tennyson's new poem. Do you know if the +echo-song is the most popular of his verses? It is only another proof +to my mind of the no-worth of popularity. That song would be eminently +sweet for a common writer, but Tennyson has done better, surely; his +eminences are to be seen above. As for the laurel, in a sense he is +worthier of it than Leigh Hunt; only Tennyson can wait, that is the +single difference. + +So anxious I am about your house. Your health seems to me mainly +to depend on your moving, and I do urge your moving; if not there, +elsewhere. May God bless you, ever dear friend! + +I dare say you will think I have given too much importance to the +rococo verses you had the goodness to speak of; but I have a horror of +being disinterred, there's the truth! Leave the violets to grow +over me. Because that wretched school-exercise of a version of the +'Prometheus' had been named by two or three people, wasn't I at the +pains of making a new translation before I left England, so to erase a +sort of half-visible and half invisible 'Blot on the Scutcheon'? After +such an expenditure of lemon-juice, you will not wonder that I should +trouble you with all this talk about nothing.... + +I am so delighted that you are to lift up your voice again, and so +grateful to Mr. Chorley. + +Ah yes, if we go to Paris we shall draw you. Mr. Chorley shan't have +all the triumphs to himself. + +Not a word more, says Robert, or the post will be missed. God bless +you! Do take care of yourself, and _don't_ stay in that damp house. +And do make allowances for love. + +Your ever affectionate +BA. + +How glad I shall be if it is true that Tennyson is married! I believe +in the happiness of marriage, for men especially. + +[Footnote 203: These are the papers subsequently published under the +title _Recollections of a Literary Life_. Among them was an article +on the Brownings, giving biographical detail with respect to Mrs. +Browning's early life, especially as to the loss of her brother, +which caused extreme pain to her sensitive nature, as a later letter +testifies.] + + +Through the greater part of the summer of 1850 the Brownings held fast +in Florence, and it was not until September, when Mrs. Browning was +recovering from a rather sharp attack of illness, that they took a +short holiday, going for a few weeks to Siena, a place which they were +again to visit some years later, during the last two summers of Mrs. +Browning's life. The letter announcing their arrival is the first in +the present collection addressed to Miss Isa Blagden. Miss Blagden was +a resident in Florence for many years, and was a prominent member of +English society there. Her friendship, not only with Mrs. Browning, +but with her husband, was of a very intimate character, and was +continued after Mrs. Browning's death until the end of her own life in +1872. + + +_To Miss I. Blagden_ +Siena: September [1850]. + +Here I am keeping my promise, my dear Miss Blagden. We arrived quite +safely, and I was not too tired to sleep at night, though tired of +course, and the baby was a miracle of goodness all the way, only +inclining once to a _rabbia_ through not being able to get at the +electric telegraph, but in ecstasies otherwise at everything new. We +had to stay at the inn all night. We heard of a multitude of villas, +none of which could be caught in time for the daylight. On Sunday, +however, just as we were beginning to give it up, in Robert came with +good news, and we were settled in half an hour afterwards here, a +small house of some seven rooms, two miles from Siena, and situated +delightfully in its own grounds of vineyard and olive ground, not to +boast too much of a pretty little square flower-garden. The grapes +hang in garlands (too tantalising to Wiedeman) about the walls and +before them, and, through and over, we have magnificent views of a +noble sweep of country, undulating hills and various verdure, and, +on one side, the great Maremma extending to the foot of the Roman +mountains. Our villa is on a hill called 'poggio dei venti,' and the +winds give us a turn accordingly at every window. It is delightfully +cool, and I have not been able to bear my window open at night since +our arrival; also we get good milk and bread and eggs and wine, and +are not much at a loss for anything. Think of my forgetting to tell +you (Robert would not forgive me for that) how we have a _specola_ or +sort of belvedere at the top of the house, which he delights in, and +which I shall enjoy presently, when I have recovered my taste for +climbing staircases. He carried me up once, but the being carried +down was so much like being carried down the flue of a chimney, that I +waive the whole privilege for the future. What is better, to my mind, +is the expected fact of being able to get books at Siena--_nearly_ as +well as at Brecker's, really; though Dumas fils seems to fill up many +of the interstices where you think you have found something. +_Three_ pauls a month, the subscription is; and for seven, we get a +'Galignani,' or are promised to get it. We pay for our villa ten scudi +the month, so that altogether it is not ruinous. The air is as fresh +as English air, without English dampness and transition; yes, and +we have English lanes with bowery tops of trees, and brambles and +blackberries, and not a wall anywhere, except the walls of our villa. + +For my part, I am recovering strength, I hope and believe. Certainly +I can move about from one room to another, without reeling much: but +I still look so ghastly, as to 'back recoil,' perfectly knowing 'Why,' +from everything in the shape of a looking glass. Robert has found an +armchair for me at Siena. To say the truth, my time for enjoying this +country life, except the enchanting silence and the look from the +window, has not come yet: I must wait for a little more strength. +Wiedeman's cheeks are beginning to redden already, and he delights +in the pigeons and the pig and the donkey and a great yellow dog and +everything else now; only he would change all your trees (except the +apple trees), he says, for the Austrian band at any moment. He is +rather a town baby.... + +Our drawback is, dear Miss Blagden, that we have not room to take you +in. So sorry we both are indeed. Write and tell me whether you have +decided about Vallombrosa. I hope we shall see much of you still at +Florence, if not here. We could give you everything here except a bed. + +Robert's kindest regards with those of +Your ever affectionate +ELIZABETH B. BROWNING. + +My love to Miss Agassiz, whenever you see her. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Siena: September 24, 1850. + +To think that it is more than two months since I wrote last to you, my +beloved friend, makes the said two months seem even longer to me than +otherwise they would necessarily be--a slow, heavy two months in every +case, 'with all the weights of care and death hung at them.' Your +letter reached me when I was confined to my bed, and could scarcely +read it, for all the strength at my heart.... As soon as I could be +moved, and before I could walk from one room to another, Dr. Harding +insisted on the necessity of change of air (for my part, I seemed to +myself more fit to change the world than the air), and Robert carried +me into the railroad like a baby, and off we came here to Siena. We +took a villa a mile and _a_ half from the town, a villa situated on a +windy hill (called 'poggio al vento'), with magnificent views from +all the windows, and set in the midst of its own vineyard and olive +ground, apple trees and peach trees, not to speak of a little square +flower-garden, for which we pay _eleven shillings one penny +farthing the week_; and at the end of these three weeks, our medical +comforter's prophecy, to which I listened so incredulously, is +fulfilled, and I am able to walk a mile, and am really as well as ever +in all essential respects.... Our poor little darling, too (see +what disasters!), was ill four-and-twenty hours from a species of +sunstroke, and frightened us with a heavy hot head and glassy staring +eyes, lying in a half-stupor. Terrible, the silence that fell suddenly +upon the house, without the small pattering feet and the singing +voice. But God spared us; he grew quite well directly and sang louder +than ever. Since we came here his cheeks have turned into roses.... + +What still further depressed me during our latter days at Florence +was the dreadful event in America--the loss of our poor friend Madame +Ossoli,[204] affecting in itself, and also through association with +that past, when the arrowhead of anguish was broken too deeply into my +life ever to be quite drawn out. Robert wanted to keep the news +from me till I was stronger, but we live too _close_ for him to keep +anything from me, and then I should have known it from the first +letter or visitor, so there was no use trying. The poor Ossolis spent +part of their last evening in Italy with us, he and she and their +child, and we had a note from her off Gibraltar, speaking of the +captain's death from smallpox. Afterwards it appears that her +child caught the disease and lay for days between life and death; +_recovered_, and then came the final agony. 'Deep called unto deep,' +indeed. Now she is where there is no more grief and 'no more sea;' and +none of the restless in this world, none of the ship-wrecked in heart +ever seemed to me to want peace more than she did. We saw much of her +last winter; and over a great gulf of differing opinion we both felt +drawn strongly to her. High and pure aspiration she had--yes, and a +tender woman's heart--and we honoured the truth and courage in her, +rare in woman or man. The work she was preparing upon Italy would +probably have been more equal to her faculty than anything previously +produced by her pen (her other writings being curiously inferior to +the impressions her conversation gave you); indeed, she told me it was +the only production to which she had given time and labour. But, +if rescued, the manuscript would be nothing but the raw material. I +believe nothing was finished; nor, if finished, could the work +have been otherwise than deeply coloured by those blood colours of +Socialistic views, which would have drawn the wolves on her, with a +still more howling enmity, both in England and America. Therefore it +was better for her to go. Only God and a few friends can be expected +to distinguish between the pure personality of a woman and her +professed opinions. She was chiefly known in America, I believe, by +oral lectures and a connection with the newspaper press, neither of +them happy means of publicity. Was she happy in anything, I wonder? +She told me that she never was. May God have made her happy in her +death! + +Such gloom she had in leaving Italy! So full she was of sad +presentiment! Do you know she gave a _Bible_ as a parting gift +from her child to ours, writing in it '_In memory of_ Angelo Eugene +Ossoli'--a strange, prophetical expression? That last evening a +prophecy was talked of jestingly--an old prophecy made to poor Marquis +Ossoli, 'that he should shun the sea, for that it would be fatal to +him.' I remember how she turned to me smiling and said, 'Our ship is +called the "Elizabeth," and I accept the omen.' + +Now I am making you almost dull perhaps, and myself certainly duller. +Rather let me tell you, dearest Miss Mitford, how delightedly I look +forward to reading whatever you have written or shall write. You write +'as well as twenty years ago'! Why, I should think so, indeed. Don't I +know what your letters are? Haven't I had faith in you always? Haven't +I, in fact, teased you half to death in proof of it? I, who was a sort +of Brutus, and oughtn't to have done it, you hinted. Moreover, Robert +is a great admirer of yours, as I must have told you before, and has +the pretension (unjustly though, as I tell _him_) to place you still +higher among writers than I do, so that we are two in expectancy here. +May Mr. Chorley's periodical live a thousand years! + +As my 'Seagull' won't, but you will find it in my new edition, and the +'Doves' and everything else worth a straw of my writing. Here's a +fact which you must try to settle with your theories of simplicity and +popularity: _None of these simple poems of mine have been favorites +with general readers_. The unintelligible ones are always preferred, I +observe, by extracters, compilers, and ladies and gentlemen who write +to tell me that I'm a muse. The very Corn Law Leaguers in the North +used to leave your 'Seagulls' to fly where they could, and clap hands +over mysteries of iniquity. Dearest Miss Mitford--for the rest, don't +mistake what I write to you sometimes--don't fancy that I undervalue +simplicity and think nothing of legitimate fame--I only mean to say +that the vogue which begins with the masses generally comes to nought +(Béranger is an exceptional case, from the _form_ of his poems, +obviously), while the appreciation beginning with the few always ends +with the masses. Wasn't Wordsworth, for instance, both simple and +unpopular, when he was most divine? To go to the great from the small, +when I complain of the lamentable weakness of much in my 'Seraphim' +volume, I don't complain of the 'Seagull' and 'Doves' and the simple +verses, but exactly of the more ambitious ones. I have had to rewrite +pages upon pages of that volume. Oh, such feeble rhymes, and turns of +thought--such a dingy mistiness! Even Robert couldn't say a word for +much of it. I took great pains with the whole, and made considerable +portions new, only your favourites were not touched--not a word +touched, I think, in the 'Seagull,' and scarcely a word in the +'Doves.' You won't complain of me a great deal, I do hope and trust. +Also I put back your 'little words' into the 'House of Clouds.' The +two volumes are to come out, it appears, at the end of October; not +before, because Mr. Chapman wished to inaugurate them for his new +house in Piccadilly. There are some new poems, and one rather long +ballad written at request of anti-slavery friends in America.[205] +I arranged that it should come next to the 'Cry of the Children,' to +appear impartial as to national grievances.... + +Oh--Balzac--what a loss! One of the greatest and (most) original +writers of the age gone from us! To hear this news made Robert and me +very melancholy. Indeed, there seems to be fatality just now with the +writers of France. Soulié, Bernard, gone too; George Sand translating +Mazzini; Sue in a socialistical state of decadence--what he means +by writing such trash as the 'Péchés' I really can't make out; only +Alexandre Dumas keeping his head up gallantly, and he seems to me to +write better than ever. Here is a new book, just published, by +Jules Sandeau, called 'Sacs et Parchemins'! Have you seen it? It +miraculously comes to us from the little Siena library. + +We stay in this villa till our month is out, and then we go for a week +into Siena that I may be nearer the churches and pictures, and see +something of the cathedral and Sodomas. We calculated that it was +cheaper to move our quarters than to have a carriage to and fro, and +then Dr. Harding recommended repeated change of air for me, and he has +proved his ability so much (so kindly too!) that we are bound to +act on his opinions as closely as we can. Perhaps we may even go to +Volterra afterwards, if the _finances_ will allow of it. If we do, it +may be for another week at farthest, and then we return to Florence. +You had better direct there as usual. And do write and tell me much of +yourself, and set _me_ down in your thoughts as quite well, and ever +yours in warm and grateful affection. + +E.B.B. + + +[Footnote 204: Drowned with her husband on their way to America.] + +[Footnote 205: _The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim's Point_.] + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: November 13, 1850 [postmark]. + +I _meant_ to cross your second letter, and so, my very dear friend, +you are a second time a prophetess as to my intentions, while I +am still more grateful than I could have been with the literal +fulfilment. Delightful it is to hear from you--do always write when +you can. And though this second letter speaks of your having been +unwell, still I shall continue to flatter myself that upon the whole +'the better part prevails,' and that if the rains don't wash you away +this winter, I may have leave to think of you as strengthening and to +strengthen still. Meanwhile you certainly, as you say, have roots to +your feet. Never was anyone so pure as you from the drop of gypsey +blood which tingles in my veins and my husband's, and gives us every +now and then a fever for roaming, strong enough to carry us to Mount +Caucasus if it were not for the healthy state of depletion observable +in the purse. I get fond of places, so does he. We both of us grew +rather pathetical on leaving our Sienese villa, and shrank from +parting with the pig. But setting out on one's travels has a great +charm; oh, I should like to be able to pay our way down the Nile, and +into Greece, and into Germany, and into Spain! Every now and then +we take out the road-books, calculate the expenses, and groan in the +spirit when it's proved for the hundredth time that we can't do +it. One must have a home, you see, to keep one's books in and one's +spring-sofas in; but the charm of a home is a home _to come back to_. +Do you understand? No, not you! You have as much comprehension of the +pleasure of 'that sort of thing' as in the peculiar taste of the +three ladies who hung themselves in a French balloon the other +day, operatically _nude_, in order, I conjecture, to the ultimate +perfection of French delicacy in morals and manners.... + +I long to see your papers, and dare say they are charming. At the same +time, just because they are sure to be charming (and notwithstanding +their kindness to me, notwithstanding that I live in a glass house +myself, warmed by such rare stoves!) I am a little in fear that your +generosity and excess of kindness may run the risk of lowering the +ideal of poetry in England by lifting above the mark the names of some +poetasters. Do you know, you take up your heart sometimes by mistake, +to admire with, when you ought to use it only to love with? and this +is apt to be dangerous, with your reputation and authority in matters +of literature. See how impertinent I am! But we should all take care +to teach the world that poetry is a divine thing, should we not? that +is, not mere verse-making, though the verses be pretty in their way. +Rather perish every verse _I_ ever wrote, for one, than help to drag +down an inch that standard of poetry which, for the sake of humanity +as well as literature, should be kept high. As for simplicity and +clearness, did I ever deny that they were excellent qualities? Never, +surely. Only, they will not _make_ poetry; and absolutely vain they +are, and indeed all other qualities, without the essential thing, +the genius, the inspiration, the insight--let us call it what we +please--without which the most accomplished verse-writers had far +better write prose, for their own sakes as for the world's--don't you +think so? Which I say, because I sighed aloud over many names in your +list, and now have taken pertly to write out the sigh at length. Too +charmingly you are sure to have written--and see the danger! But Miss +Fanshawe is well worth your writing of (let me say that I am sensible +warmly of that) as one of the most witty of our wits in verse, men or +women. I have only seen manuscript copies of some of her verses, and +that years ago, but they struck me very much; and really I do not +remember another female wit worthy to sit beside her, even in French +literature. Motherwell is a true poet. But oh, I don't believe in your +John Clares, Thomas Davises, Whittiers, Hallocks--and still less in +other names which it would be invidious to name again. How pert I am! +But you give me leave to be pert, and you know the meaning of it all, +after all. Your editor quarrelled a little with me once, and I with +him, about the 'poetesses of the united empire,' in whom I couldn't or +wouldn't find a poet, though there are extant two volumes of them, and +Lady Winchilsea at the head. I hold that the writer of the ballad of +'Robin Gray' was our first poetess rightly so called, before Joanna +Baillie. + +Mr. Lever is in Florence, I believe, now, and was at the Baths of +Lucca in the summer. We never see him; it is curious. He made his way +to us with the sunniest of faces and cordialest of manners at Lucca; +and I, who am much taken by manner, was quite pleased with him, and +wondered how it was that I didn't like his books. Well, he only +wanted to see that we had the right number of eyes and no odd fingers. +Robert, in return for his visit, called on him three times, I think, +and I left my card on Mrs. Lever. But he never came again--he had +seen enough of us, he could put down in his private diary that we had +neither claw nor tail; and there an end, properly enough. In fact, +he lives a different life from ours: he in the ballroom and we in the +cave, nothing could be more different; and perhaps there are not many +subjects of common interest between us. I have seen extracts in +the 'Examiner' from Tennyson's 'In Memoriam' which seemed to me +exquisitely beautiful and pathetical. Oh, there's a poet, talking of +poets. Have you read Wordsworth's last work--the legacy? With regard +to the elder Miss Jewsbury, do you know, I take Mr. Chorley's part +against you, because, although I know her only by her writings, the +writings seem to me to imply a certain vigour and originality of mind, +by no means ordinary. For instance, the fragments of her letters in +his 'Memorials of Mrs. Hemans' are much superior to any other letters +almost in the volume--certainly to Mrs. Hemans's own. Isn't this so? +And so you talk, you in England, of Prince Albert's 'folly,' do you +really? Well, among the odd things we lean to in Italy is to an actual +belief in the greatness and importance of the future exhibition. +We have actually imagined it to be a noble idea, and you take me by +surprise in speaking of the general distaste to it in England. Is +it really possible? For the agriculturists, I am less surprised at +coldness on their part; but do you fancy that the manufacturers and +free-traders are cold too? Is Mr. Chorley against it equally? Yes, I +am glad to hear of Mrs. Butler's success--or Fanny Kemble's, ought I +to say? Our little Wiedeman, who can't speak a word yet, waxes hotter +in his ecclesiastical and musical passion. Think of that baby (just +cutting his eyeteeth) screaming in the streets till he is taken into +the churches, kneeling on his knees to the first sound of music, and +folding his hands and turning up his eyes in a sort of ecstatical +state. One scarcely knows how to deal with the sort of thing: it is +too soon for religious controversy. He crosses himself, I assure you. +Robert says it is as well to have the eyeteeth and the Puseyistical +crisis over together. The child is a very curious imaginative child, +but too excitable for his age, that's all I complain of ... God bless +you, my much loved friend. Write to + +Your ever affectionate +E.B.B. + + +What books by Soulié have appeared since his death? Do you remember? +I have just got 'Les Enfants de l'Amour,' by Sue. I suppose he will +prove in it the illegitimacy of legitimacy, and _vice versâ_. Sue is +in decided decadence, for the rest, since he has taken to illustrating +Socialism! + + +_To Miss I. Blagden_ +[Florence:] Sunday morning [about 1850]. + +My dear Miss Blagden,--In spite of all your _drawing_ kindness, we +find it impossible to go to you on Monday. We are expecting friends +from Rome who will remain only a few days, perhaps, in Florence. Now +it seems to me that you very often pass our door. Do you not too often +leave the trace of your goodness with me? And would it not be better +of you still, if you would at once make use of us and give us pleasure +by pausing here, you and Miss Agassiz, to rest and refresh yourselves +with tea, coffee, or whatever else you may choose? We shall be +delighted to see you always, and don't fancy that I say so out of form +or 'tinkling cymbalism.' + +Thank you for your intention about the 'Leader.' Robert and I shall +like much to see anything of John Mill's on the subject of Socialism +or any other. By the 'British Review,' do you mean the _North +British_? I read a clever article in that review some months ago on +the German Socialists, ably embracing in its analysis the fraternity +in France, and attributed, I have since heard, to Dr. Hanna, the +son-in-law and biographer of Chalmers. Christian Socialists are by no +means a new sect, the Moravians representing the theory with as +little offence and absurdity as may be. What is it, after all, but an +out-of-door extension of the monastic system? The religious principle, +more or less apprehended, may bind men together so, absorbing their +individualities, and presenting an aim _beyond the world_; but upon +merely human and earthly principles no such system can stand, I feel +persuaded, and I thank God for it. If Fourierism could be realised +(which it surely cannot) out of a dream, the destinies of our race +would shrivel up under the unnatural heat, and human nature would, +in my mind, be desecrated and dishonored--because I do not believe +in purification without suffering, in progress without struggle, in +virtue without temptation. Least of all do I consider happiness the +end of man's life. We look to higher things, have nobler ambitions. + +Also, in every advancement of the world hitherto, the individual has +led the masses. Thus, to elicit individuality has been the object of +the best political institutions and governments. Now, in these new +theories, the individual is ground down into the multitude, and +society must be 'moving all together if it moves at all'--restricting +the very possibility of progress by the use of the lights of genius. +Genius is _always individual_. + +Here's a scribble upon grave matters! I ought to be acknowledging +instead your scrupulous honesty, as illustrated by five-franc pieces +and Tuscan florins. Make us as useful as you can do, for the future; +and please us by coming often. I am afraid your German Baroness could +not make an arrangement with you, as you do not mention her. Give +our best regards to Miss Agassiz, and accept them yourself, dear Miss +Blagden, from + +Your affectionate +ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. + + +_To Mr. Westwood_ +Florence: Thursday, December 12, 1850. + +My dear Mr. Westwood,--Your book has not reached us yet, and so if I +waited for that, to write, I might wait longer still. But I don't wait +for that, because you bade me not to do so, and besides we have only +this moment finished reading 'In Memoriam,' and it was a sort of +miracle with us that we got it so soon.... + +_December_ 13.--The above sentences were written yesterday, and hardly +had they been written when your third letter came with its enclosure. +How very kind you are to me, and how am I to thank you enough! If you +had not sent me the 'Athenaeum' article I never should have seen it +probably, for my husband only saw it in the reading room, where women +don't penetrate (because in Italy we can't read, you see), and where +the periodicals are kept so strictly, like Hesperian apples, by the +dragons of the place, that none can be stolen away even for half an +hour. So he could only wish me to catch sight of that article--and you +are good enough to send it and oblige us both exceedingly. For which +kindness thank you, thank you! The favor shown to me in it is extreme, +and I am as grateful as I ought to be. Shall I ask the 'Note and +Query' magazine why the 'Athenaeum' does show me so much favor, while, +as in a late instance, so little justice is shown to my husband? It's +a problem, like another. As for poetry, I hope to do better things +in it yet, though I _have_ a child to 'stand in my sunshine,' as you +suppose he must; but he only makes the sunbeams brighter with his +glistening curls, little darling--and who can complain of that? You +can't think what a good, sweet, curious, imagining child he is. Half +the day I do nothing but admire him--there's the truth. He doesn't +talk yet much, but he gesticulates with extraordinary force of +symbol, and makes surprising revelations to us every half-hour or so. +Meanwhile Flush loses nothing, I assure you. On the contrary, he is +hugged and kissed (rather too hard sometimes), and never is permitted +to be found fault with by anybody under the new _régime_. If Flush is +scolded, Baby cries as matter of course, and he would do admirably for +a 'whipping-boy' if that excellent institution were to be revived by +Young England and the Tractarians for the benefit of our deteriorated +generations. I was ill towards the end of last summer, and we had to +go to Siena for the sake of getting strength again, and there we lived +in a villa among a sea of little hills, and wrapt up in vineyards +and olive yards, enjoying everything. Much the worst of Italy is, the +drawback about books. Somebody said the other day that we 'sate here +like posterity'--reading books with the gloss off them. But our case +in reality is far more dreary, seeing that Prince Posterity will have +glossy books of his own. How exquisite 'In Memoriam' is, how earnest +and true; after all, the gloss never can wear off books like that. + +And as to your book, it will come, it will come, and meantime I may +assure you that posterity is very impatient for it. The Italian poem +will be read with the interest which is natural. You know it's a +more than doubtful point whether Shakespeare ever saw Italy out of +a vision, yet he and a crowd of inferior writers have written about +Venice and vineyards as if born to the manner of them. We hear of +Carlyle travelling in France and Germany--but I must leave room for +the words you ask for from a certain hand below. + +Ever dear Mr. Westwood's obliged and faithful + +E.B.B. + +And the 'certain hand' will write its best (and far better than any +poor 'Pippa Passes') in recording a feeling which does not pass at +all, that of gratitude for all such generous sympathy as dear Mr. +Westwood's for E.B.B. and (in his proper degree) R. BROWNING. + + +_To Miss Mitford_ +Florence: December 13, 1850. + +_Did_ I write a scolding letter, dearest Miss Mitford? So much the +better, when people deserve to be scolded. The worst is, however, +that it sometimes does them no sort of good, and that they will sit +on among the ruins of Carthage, let ever so many messages come from +Italy. My only hope now is, that you will have a mild winter in +England, as we seem likely to have it here; and that in the spring, +by the help of some divine interposition of friends supernaturally +endowed (after the manner of Mr. Chorley), you may be made to go away +into a house with fast walls and chimneys. Certainly, if you could be +made to _write_, anything else is possible. That's my comfort. And +the other's my hope, as I said; and so between hope and consolation +I needn't scold any more. Let me tell you what I have heard of Mrs. +Gaskell, for fear I should forget it later. She is connected by +marriage with Mrs. A.T. Thompson, and from a friend of Mrs. Thompson's +it came to me, and really seems to exonerate Chapman & Hall from the +charge advanced against them. 'Mary Barton' was shown in manuscript +to Mrs. Thompson, and failed to please her; and, in deference to her +judgment, certain alterations were made. Subsequently it was offered +to all or nearly all the publishers in London and rejected. Chapman +& Hall accepted and gave a hundred pounds, as you heard, for the +copyright of the work; and though the success did not, perhaps (that +is quite possible), induce any liberality with regard to copies, they +gave _another hundred pounds_ upon printing the second edition, and +it was not in the bond to do so. I am told that the liberality of +the proceeding was appreciated by the author and her friends +accordingly--and there's the end of my story. Two hundred pounds is a +good price--isn't it?--for a novel, as times go. Miss Lynn had only +a hundred and fifty for her Egyptian novel, or perhaps for the Greek +one. Taking the long run of poetry (if it runs at all), I am half +given to think that it pays better than the novel does, in spite of +everything. Not that we speak out of golden experience; alas, no! We +have had not a sou from our books for a year past, the booksellers +being bound of course to cover their own expenses first. Then this +Christmas account has not yet reached us. But the former editions paid +us regularly so much a year, and so will the present ones, I hope. +Only I was not thinking of _them_, in preferring what may strike you +as an extravagant paradox, but of Tennyson's returns from Moxon last +year, which I understand amounted to five hundred pounds. To be +sure, 'In Memoriam' was a new success, which should not prevent our +considering the fact of a regular income proceeding from the previous +books. A novel flashes up for a season and does not often outlast it. +For 'Mary Barton' I am a little, little disappointed, do you know. I +have just done reading it. There is power and truth--she can shake and +she can pierce--but I wish half the book away, it is so tedious +every now and then; and besides I want more beauty, more air from the +universal world--these classbooks must always be defective as works +of art. How could I help being disappointed a little when Mrs. Jameson +told me that 'since the "Bride of Lammermoor," nothing had appeared +equal to "Mary Barton"?' Then the style of the book is slovenly, +and given to a kind of phraseology which would be vulgar even as +colloquial English. Oh, it is a powerful book in many ways. You are +not to set me down as hypercritical. Probably the author will, write +herself clear of many of her faults: she has strength enough. As to +'In Memoriam,' I have seen it, I have read it--dear Mr. Kenyon had the +goodness to send it to me by an American traveller--and now I really +do disagree with you, for the book has gone to my heart and soul; +I think it full of deep pathos and beauty. All I wish away is +the marriage hymn at the end, and _that_ for every reason I wish +away--it's a discord in the music. The monotony is a part of the +position--(the sea is monotonous, and so is lasting grief.) Your +complaint is against fate and humanity rather than against the poet +Tennyson. Who that has suffered has not felt wave after wave +break dully against one rock, till brain and heart, with all their +radiances, seemed lost in a single shadow? So the effect of the book +is artistic, I think, and indeed I do not wonder at the opinion which +has reached us from various quarters that Tennyson stands higher +through having written it. You see, what he appeared to want, +according to the view of many, was an earnest personality and direct +purpose. In this last book, though of course there is not room in it +for that exercise of creative faculty which elsewhere established +his fame, he appeals heart to heart, directly as from his own to the +universal heart, and we all feel him nearer to us--_I_ do--and so +do others. Have you read a poem called 'the Roman' which was praised +highly in the 'Athenaeum,' but did not seem to Robert to justify the +praise in the passages extracted? written by somebody with certainly +a _nom de guerre_--Sidney Yendys. Observe, _Yendys_ is _Sidney_ +reversed. Have you heard anything about it, or seen? The 'Athenaeum' +has been gracious to me beyond gratitude almost; nothing could by +possibility be kinder. A friend of mine sent me the article from +Brussels--a Mr. Westwood, who writes poems himself; yes, and poetical +poems too, written with an odorous, fresh sense of poetry about them. +He has not original power, more's the pity: but he has stayed near the +rose in the 'sweet breath and buddings of the spring,' and although +that won't make anyone live beyond spring-weather, it is the +expression of a sensitive and aspirant nature; and the man is +interesting and amiable--an old correspondent of mine, and kind to me +always. From the little I know of Mr. Bennett, I should say that Mr. +Westwood stood much higher in the matter of gifts, though I fear +that neither of them will make way in that particular department of +literature selected by them for action. Oh, my dearest friend, you may +talk about coteries, but the English society at Florence (from what I +hear of the hum of it at a distance) is worse than any coterie-society +in the world. A coterie, if I understand the thing, is informed by a +unity of sentiment, or faith, or prejudice; but this society here is +not informed at all. People come together to gamble or dance, and if +there's an end, why so much the better; but there's _not_ an end +in most cases, by any manner of means, and against every sort +of innocence. Mind, I imply nothing about Mr. Lever, who lives +irreproachably with his wife and family, rides out with his children +in a troop of horses to the Cascine, and yet is as social a person +as his joyous temperament leads him to be. But we live in a cave, and +peradventure he is afraid of the damp of us--who knows? We know very +few residents in Florence, and these, with chance visitors, chiefly +Americans, are all that keep us from solitude; every now and then in +the evening somebody drops in to tea. Would, indeed, you were near! +but should I be satisfied with you 'once a week,' do you fancy. Ah, +you would soon love Robert. You couldn't help it, I am sure. I should +be soon turned down to an underplace, and, under the circumstances, +would not struggle. Do you remember once telling me that 'all men are +tyrants'?--as sweeping an opinion as the Apostle's, that 'all men +are liars.' Well, if you knew Robert you would make an exception +certainly. Talking of the artistical English here, somebody told me +the other day of a young Cambridge or Oxford man who deducted from +his researches in Rome and Florence that 'Michael Angelo was a wag.' +Another, after walking through the Florentine galleries, exclaimed to +a friend of mine, 'I have seen nothing here equal to those magnificent +pictures in Paris by Paul de Kock.' My friend humbly suggested that he +might mean Paul de la Roche. But see what English you send us for +the most part. We have had one very interesting visitor lately, the +grandson of Goethe. He did us the honour, he said, of spending two +days in Florence on our account, he especially wishing to see Robert +on account of some sympathy of view about 'Paracelsus.' There can +scarcely be a more interesting young man--quite young he seems, and +full of aspiration of the purest kind towards the good and true and +beautiful, and not towards the poor laurel crowns attainable from +any possible public. I don't know when I have been so charmed by a +visitor, and indeed Robert and I paid him the highest compliment we +could, by wishing, one to another, that our little Wiedeman might be +like him some day. I quite agree with you about the church of your +Henry. It surprises me that a child of seven years should find +pleasure even once a day in the long English service--too long, +according to my doxy, for matured years. As to fanaticism, it depends +on a defect of intellect rather than on an excess of the adoring +faculty. The latter cannot, I think, be too fully developed. How I +shall like you to see our Wiedeman! He is a radiant little creature, +really, yet he won't talk; he does nothing but gesticulate, only +making his will and pleasure wonderfully clear and supreme, I assure +you. He's a tyrant, ready made for your theory. If your book is +'better than I expect,' what will it be? God bless you! Be well, and +love me, and write to me, for I am your ever affectionate + +BA. + + +_To Mrs. Martin_ +Florence: January 30, 1851. + +Here I am at last, dearest friend. But you forget how you told me, +when you wrote your 'long letter,' that you were going away into chaos +somewhere, and that your address couldn't be known yet. It was this +which made me delay the answer to that welcome letter--and to begin +to 'put off' is fatal, as perhaps you know. Now forgive me, and I will +behave better in future, indeed.... + +I am quite well, and looking well, they say; but the frightful +illness of the autumn left me paler and thinner long after the perfect +recovery. The physician told Robert afterwards that few women would +have recovered at all; and when I left Siena I was as able to +walk, and as well in every respect as ever, notwithstanding +everything--think, for instance, of my walking to St. Miniato, here +in Florence! You remember, perhaps, what that pull is. I dare say you +heard from Henrietta how we enjoyed our rustication at Siena. It is +pleasant even to look back on it. We were obliged to look narrowly +at the economies, more narrowly than usual; but the cheapness of the +place suited the occasion, and the little villa, like a mere tent +among the vines, charmed us, though the doors didn't shut, and though +(on account of the smallness) Robert and I had to whisper all our talk +whenever Wiedeman was asleep. Oh, I wish you were in Italy. I wish +you had come here this winter which has been so mild, and which, with +ordinary prudence, would certainly have suited dear Mr. Martin.... I +tried to dissuade the Peytons from making the experiment, through the +fear of its not answering.... We can't get them into society, you +see, because we are out of it, having struggled to keep out of it +with hands and feet, and partially having succeeded, knowing scarcely +anybody except bringers of letters of introduction, and those chiefly +Americans and not residents in Florence. The other day, however, Mrs. +Trollope and her daughter-in-law called on us, and it is settled that +we are to know them; though Robert had made a sort of vow never to +sit in the same room with the author of certain books directed against +liberal institutions and Victor Hugo's poetry. I had a longer battle +to fight, on the matter of this vow, than any since my marriage, and +had some scruples at last of taking advantage of the pure goodness +which induced him to yield to my wishes; but I _did_, because I hate +to seem ungracious and unkind to people; and human beings, besides, +are better than their books, than their principles, and even than +their everyday actions, sometimes. I am always crying out: 'Blessed be +the inconsistency of men.' Then I thought it probable that, the first +shock of the cold water being over, he would like the proposed new +acquaintances very much--and so it turns out. She was very agreeable, +and kind, and good-natured, and talked much about _you_, which was +a charm of itself; and we mean to be quite friends, and to lend +each other books, and to forget one another's offences, in print or +otherwise. Also, she admits us on her private days; for she has public +days (dreadful to relate!), and is in the full flood and flow of +Florentine society. Do write to me, will you? or else I shall set +you down as vexed with me. The state of politics here is dismal. +Newspapers put down; Protestant places of worship shut up. It is so +bad that it must soon be better. What are you both thinking of the +'Papal aggression'?[206] 'Are you frightened? Are you frenzied? For my +part I can't get up much steam about it. The 'Great Insult' was simply +a great mistake, the consequence (natural enough) of the Tractarian +idiocies as enacted in Italy. + +God bless both of you, dearest and always remembered friends! Robert's +best regards, he says. + +Your affectionate +BA. + +Tell me your thoughts about France. I am so anxious about the crisis +there.[207] We have had a very interesting visit lately from the +grandson of Goethe. + +[Footnote 206: The Papal Bull appointing Roman Catholic bishops +throughout England was issued on September 24, 1850, and England was +now in the throes of the anti-papal excitement produced by it.] + +[Footnote 207: "Where Louis Napoleon was engaged in his series of +encroachments on the power of the Assembly and intrigues for the +imperial throne."] + + +_To Miss Browning_ +Florence: April 23, 1851 [postmark]. + +My dearest Sarianna,--I do hope that Robert takes his share of the +blame in using and abusing you as we have done. It was altogether too +bad--shameful--to send that last MS. for you to copy out; and I did, +indeed, make a little outcry about it, only he insisted on having it +so. Was it very wrong, I wonder? Your kindness and affectionateness I +never doubt of; but if you are not quite strong just now, you might be +teased, in spite of your heart, by all that copying work--not pleasant +at any time. Well, believe that I thank you, at least gratefully, for +what you have done. So quickly too! The advertisement at the end +of the week proves how you must have worked for me. Thank you, dear +Sarianna. + +Robert will have told you our schemes, and how we are going to work, +and are to love you _near_ for the future, I hope. You, who are wise, +will approve of us, I think, for keeping on our Florentine apartment, +so as to run no more risk than is necessary in making the Paris +experiment. We shall let the old dear rooms, and make money by them, +and keep them to fall back upon, in case we fail at Paris. 'But +we'll not fail.' Well, I hope not, though I am very brittle still and +susceptible to climate. Dearest Sarianna, it will do you infinite +good to come over to us every now and then--you want change, absolute +change of scene and air and climate, I am confident; and you never +will be right till you have had it. We talk, Robert and I, of carrying +you back with us to Rome next year as an English trophy. Meanwhile you +will see Wiedeman, you and dear Mr. Browning. Don't expect to see a +baby of Anak, that's all. Robert is always measuring him on the door, +and reporting such wonderful growth (some inch a week, I think), that +if you receive his reports you will cry out on beholding the child. At +least, you'll say: 'How little he must have been to be no larger now.' +You'll fancy he must have begun from a mustard-seed! The fact is, he +is small, only full of life and joy to the brim. I am not afraid of +your not loving him, nor of his not loving you. He has a loving little +heart, I assure you. If anyone pricks a finger with a needle he begins +to cry--he can't bear to see the least living thing hurt. And when +he loves, it is well. Robert says I must finish, so here ends dearest +Sarianna's + +Ever affectionate sister +BA. + + + + +END OF THE FIRST VOLUME SMITH, ELDER, & CO.'S NEW BOOKS. + + * * * * * + + +=DEEDS THAT WON THE EMPIRE.= By the Rev. W.H. FITCHETT, THIRD EDITION. +With 11 Plans and 16 Portraits. Crown 8vo. 6s. + +=INDIAN FRONTIER POLICY.= An Historical Sketch. By General Sir JOHN +ADYE, G.C.B., R.A. With Map. Demy 8vo. 3s. 6d. + +=THE STORY OF THE CHURCH OF EGYPT:= being an Outline of the History of +the Egyptians under their successive Masters from the Roman Conquest +until now. By E.L. BUTCHER, Author of 'A Strange Journey,' 'A Black +Jewel,' &c. In 2 vols. Crown 8vo. 16s. + +=LORD COCHRANE'S TRIAL BEFORE LORD ELLENBOROUGH= IN 1814. By J.B. +ATLAY. 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