1694. Thomas Westwood to EBB
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 9, 107–109.
Chase Side, Enfield
Wednesdy. Eveng. Augst 21st 1844.
I regret to say, dear Miss Barrett, that we have achieved our first reading of the book, & like silly children, who have plucked grape, by grape, till not one is left upon the stalk, we are wishing, with a sigh, that the pleasure were yet to come– Fortunately there is this difference between your book, & the bunch of grapes .. that the book may be devoured over, & over again, & each time with an increase of appetite. —However, let me thank you, first of all, for that little touch of kindness, which made itself warmly felt, when in cutting open the leaves I came to the “Romance of the Swan’s Nest[.]” [1] It is a sweet little poem– My self-complacency says so, & my judgment confirms the verdict—& seriously it is a matter of pride to me, to see myself associated, however indirectly, with any work of yours– Now shall I tell you that the chief poem in the book is my chief favourite, or shall I be frankly, rudely honest, & confess that though it may be so, eventually, it is not so, yet– Will you be angry with me if I acknowledge that the Seraphim still keeps its place in my estimation, as the first & grandest of your longer poems. That there is great beauty & power both in the conception, & execution of the Drama is very evident, but at the same time there is something new– Something new in style, & in management,—something which is not you—& which made me look back, in the reading, with a regret & a yearning to your elder style,—but now, you are angry I am sure—now,—if you were to shake hands with me, you would give me the tips of your fingers, so I will not say another word, lest worse should come of it—though at the same time I beg you to understand, that if I were to say another word, having exhausted my dissatisfaction, it would be all of praise & pleasure.
The “Rhyme of the Duchess May”, we read with intense delight—once, in due course, & once, compulsorily, by force of its own beauty, & that it is ‘beautiful exceedingly’, [2] I prophecy the critics will tell you erelong, & the world say ‘Amen’. An especial favourite also is the “Lost Bower”—with its sweet dreamy quietness, & musical metre—it pleased me beyond measure—& the more so, that it called to mind an adventure, somewhat similar, which befel myself once, when in wandering about a wood through which I pass daily, I came, unexpectedly, on a little green, bright sunshiny nook, in its very heart, quite shut in with twisted boughs & brambles, & the turf, strewed all over, thick & odorous, with lilies of the valley– But alas! for the continuity of the resemblance, & the falling off in the romance—I could find my bower afterwards, whenever I chose to look for it–
The ‘Vision of Poets[’] too, pleased me very much––it is a fine high doctrine, which it preaches—& one, which in these latter days, when our great Poets have not been wont to show themselves over mindful of the responsableness [sic] of their office or the claims it has upon them, surely need be preached. The “Dead Pan” (one of the noblest poems, to my thinking in the whole work)[,] The “Wine of Cyprus,” the [“]Fourfold Aspect,” “Sleeping & Watching”—(to say nothing of the old friends, with—somewhat less “familiar faces’[’] [3] than of old) have each & all a claim upon our thankfulness, so that our debt altogether is by no means a light one, though it will be paid with a light heart, believe me.
And now I am going to wish a very mischievous wish, that some wicked sprite would run away with all your pens, & eke your paper—(leaving just enough, perhaps, for a note to a friend or two!!)—set a “thus far, & no further” [4] on your thoughts, & so compel you with a very absolute compulsion to rest both head & hand till your weariness is overpast,—for I am sure you must have tasked your strength greatly, by all the work you have gone through of late. Are you very anxious about the critics– I hope not,—not, that the hope, presupposes any particular fear—very far from it—but the caprices of such people are so unaccountable—& then, they are such a dyspeptic race!– At any rate, I trust there are many, very many, who like ourselves will hold fast by their faith, & not change their ‘yea,’ for ‘nay’, whether the critical winds bring storm or sunshine.
Believe me, dear Miss Barrett.
Very sincerely yours
T. Westwood.
P.S. I had almost forgotten to ask you whether you were aware of the omission of a very sweet little poem, which I think you called “a claim in an allegory” [5] —was it forgotten, or excluded by a too harsh verdict,—& poor Flushie, does he wear his honours meekly, or does he look very proud under this second crowning? [6]
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library.
1. EBB introduced “The Romance of the Swan’s Nest” with a four-line quotation from Westwood’s Beads from a Rosary, commencing “So the dreams depart.”
2. Coleridge, Christabel (1816), pt. I, line 68.
3. Charles Lamb, “The Old Familiar Faces” (1798), line 1.
4. Cf. Job 38:11.
5. “A Claim in an Allegory” appeared in The Athenæum in 1842 (no. 777, p. 818); it was republished in Poems (1850) under the title of “The Claim.”
6. Obviously a reference to the reprinting of “To Flush, My Dog” in Poems (1844).
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