3006. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 18, 22–26.
138. Avenue des Ch. Elysées.
Feb. 15 [1852]. [1]
Thank you thank you my beloved friend. Yes—I do understand in my heart all your kindness. Yes, I do believe that on some points I am full of disease—and this has exposed me several times to shocks of pain in the ordinary intercourse of the world, which, for bystanders, were hard, I dare say, to make out. Once at the Baths of Lucca I was literally nearly struck down to the ground by a single word said in all kindness by a friend whom I had not seen for ten years. [2] The blue sky reeled over me, & I caught at something, not to fall. Well—there is no use dwelling on this subject. I understand your affectionateness & tender consideration I repeat, and thank you—& love you, which is better. Now let us talk of reasonable things.
Berenger lives close to us, & Robert has seen him in his white hat wandering along the asphalte. [3] I had a notion somehow that he was very old—but he is only elderly—not much indeed above sixty (which is the prime of life now a days) and he lives quietly & keeps out of scrapes poetical & political, and if Robert & I had but a little less modesty we are assured that we should find access to him easy. But we cant make up our minds to go to his door & introduce ourselves as vagrant minstrels, when he may probably not know our names. We never could follow the fashion of certain authors who send their books about without intimations of their being likely to be acceptable or not .. of which practice poor Tennyson knows too much for his peace. If indeed a letter of introduction to Berenger were vouchsafed to us from any benign quarter, we should both be delighted, but we must wait patiently for the influence of the stars. Meanwhile, we have at last sent our letter (Mazzini’s) to George Sand, accompanied with a little note signed by both of us, though written by me, as seemed right, being the woman. We half despaired in doing this—for it is most difficult it appears, to get at her, she having taken vows against seeing strangers, in consequence of various annoyances & persecutions in & out of print, which it’s the mere instinct of a woman to avoid– I can understand it perfectly. Also, she is in Paris for only a few days, & under a new name, to escape from the plague of her notoriety. People said to us .. “She will never see you—you have no chance, I am afraid.” But we determined to try. At least I pricked Robert up to the leap—for he was really inclined to sit in his chair & be proud a little– ‘No,’ said I, ‘you shant be proud .. and I wont be proud—and we will see her—I wont die, if I can help it, without seeing George Sand.’ So we gave our letter to a friend who was to give it to a friend who was to place it in her hands—her abode being a mystery, & the name she used, unknown. The next day, came by the post, this answer ..
Madame
J’aurai l’honneur de vous recevoir dimanche prochain rue Racine 3. C’est le seul jour que je puisse passer chez moi, et encore je n’en suis pas absolument certaine. Mais j’y ferai tellement mon possible, que ma bonne étoile m’y aidera peut[-]être un peu.
Agreez mille remercimen[t]s de cœur ainsi que Monsieur Browning, que j’espére voir avec vous, pour la sympathie que vous m’accordez. [4]
George Sand.
Paris. 12 févríer. 52.
This is graceful & kind—is it not?—and we are going tomorrow, .. I, rather at the risk of my life .. but I shall roll myself up head & all in a thick shawl, & we shall go in a close carriage, & I hope I shall be able to tell you about the result before shutting up this letter.
One of her objects in coming to Paris this time was to get a commutation of the sentence upon her friend Marc Dufraisse who was ordered to Cayenne. She had an interview accordingly with the President. He shook hands with her & granted her request—and in the course of conversation pointed to a great heap of “Decrees” on the table, being hatched ‘for the good of France.’ I have heard scarcely anything of him, except from his professed enemies; and it is really a good deal the simple recoil from manifest falsehoods & gross exaggerations, which has thrown me on the ground of his defenders. For the rest, it remains to be proved, I think, whether he is a mere ambitious man, or better—whether his personality or his country stands highest with him as an object. I thought & still think that a Washington might have dissolved the assembly as he did, & appealed to the people. Which is not saying however that he is a Washington. We must wait, I think, to judge the man. Only it is right to bear in mind one fact .. that admitting the lawfulness of the coup d’état, you must not object to the dictatorship– And admitting the temporary necessity of the dictatorship, it is absolute folly to expect under it the liberty & ease of a regular government.
What has saved him with me from the beginning was his appeal to the people—and what makes his government respectable in my eyes, is the answer of the people to that appeal. Being a democrat, I dare to be so consequently. There never was a more legitimate chief of a state than Louis Napoleon is now,—elected by seven millions & a half—and I do maintain that, ape or demigod, to insult him where he is, is to insult the people who placed him there. As to the stupid outcry in England about forced votes, voters pricked forward by bayonets, [5] .. why, nothing can be more stupid. Nobody, not blinded by passion, could maintain such a thing for a moment. No frenchman, however blinded by passion, has maintained it in my presence.
A very philosophically minded man (french) [6] was talking of these things the other day—one of the most thoughtful, liberal men, I ever knew of any country, & high & pure in his moral views—also (let me add) more anglomane in general than I am. He was talking of the English press. He said, he “did it justice for good & noble intentions” ..
(more than I do!)
“but marvelled at its extraordinary ignorance. Those writers did not know the A B C of France. Then, as to Louis Napoleon, whether he was right or wrong, they erred in supposing him not to be in earnest with his constitution & other remedies for France. The fact was .. he not only was in earnest—he was even fanatical.”
There is of course much to deplore in the present state of affairs—much that is very melancholy. The constitution is not a model one, & no prospect of even comparative liberty of the press has been offered. [7] At the same time, I hope still. As tranquillity is established, there will be certain modifications—this indeed has been intimated,—and I think the press will by degrees attain to its emancipation. Meanwhile the Athenæum & other English periodicals say wrongly that there is censure established on books. [8] There is a censure on pamphlets & newspapers—on books, no. Cormenin is said to have been the adviser of the Orleans confiscation.
Monday– I have seen George Sand. She received us in a room with a bed in it, .. the only room she has to occupy, I suppose, during her short stay in Paris. She came forward to us very cordially with her hand held out, which I, in the emotion of the moment, stooped & kissed, .. upon which she exclaimed, “Mais, non! je ne veux pas” [9] .. & kissed my lips. I dont think she is a great deal taller than I am .. yes, taller, but not a great deal .. and a little over-stout for that height. [10] The upper part of the face is fine, the forehead, eyebrows & eyes, .. dark glowing eyes as they should be .. the lower part not so good. The beautiful teeth project a little, flashing out the smile of the large characteristic mouth; & the chin recedes. It never could have been a beautiful face, Robert & I agree, but noble & expressive it has been & is. The complexion is olive, quite without colour, .. the hair, black & glossy, divided with evident care & twisted back into a knot behind the head, & she wore no covering to it. Some of the portraits represent her in ringlets—& ringlets would be much more becoming to the style of face, I fancy, for the cheeks are rather over-full. She was dressed in a sort of woollen grey gown, with a jacket of the same material, (according to the ruling fashion)—the gown fastened up to the throat, with a small linen collarette, & plain white muslin sleeves buttoned round the wrists. The hands appeared to me small & well-shaped. Her manners were quite as simple as her costume. I never saw a simpler woman. Not a shade of affectation or consciousness even—not a suffusion of coquetry, .. <not a cigarette to be seen!–> [11] Two or three young men were sitting with her, & I observed the profound respect with which they listened to every word she said– She speaks rapidly, with a low, unemphatic voice– Repose of manner is much more her characteristic than animation is—only, under all the quietness, & perhaps by means of it, you are aware of an intense burning soul.
She kissed me again when we went away, & excused herself from coming to visit us on the ground of her press of occupation—but we are to go to see her again next sunday– No room for any more writing. God bless you. I am happy to hear of the success of your book. Why how could it not succeed?– Say how you are, dearest friend.
Your most affecte & grateful
Ba–
Address: Miss Mitford / Swallowfield / near Reading.
Publication: EBB-MRM, III, 346–350.
Manuscript: Balliol College and Wellesley College.
1. Year provided by the postmark of the preceding letter with which this letter was enclosed.
2. Caroline Gordon; see letter 2812.
3. Pierre-Jean de Béranger (1780–1857), known for his popular satirical chansons, for which he had been arrested and imprisoned twice, was then living at 5 Rue Chateaubriand. He was seventy-one at the time of this letter. In 1881, RB recalled that one day in Paris, seeing Béranger in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré, he told Pen to “touch the hand of that old gentleman, and someday he would tell him why” (Diary of Daniel Sargent Curtis, 16 October 1881, ms at Marciana).
4. For a translation, see letter 3004.
5. EBB alludes to a phrase that appeared in The Quarterly Review; see letter 3005, note 10.
6. Joseph Milsand.
7. At the time of the coup d’état, the offices of the leading Paris newspapers were occupied by the police, and all periodicals were placed under government surveillance, effectively ending any criticism of Louis Napoleon in the French press. The day after this letter was written, he issued a much-anticipated decree containing thirty-seven articles that made government censorship the law of the land. The Daily News of 20 February ran a translation of the decree as it appeared in the 18 February issue of Le Moniteur. Article 1 read: “No journal or periodical publication relating to political subjects or social economy … can be started or published without the previous authorisation of the government. … The preliminary authorisation of the government will be likewise necessary whenever any change is effected in the personnel of the gérant [manager], chief editor, proprietors, or administrators of a journal” (p. 5). Other articles severely limited press coverage of the Legislative Body, and prohibited all coverage of the Senate, and the Council of State. Also forbidden were the trial proceedings of those accused of violating the terms of the decree. The circumscribed status of the press remained in effect until 1868.
8. A paragraph in the “Our Weekly Gossip” column in The Athenæum of 3 January 1852 gave an illustration of the current press censorship and concluded: “Let us add, that in France the censorship is extended from newspapers to books:—even reprints and new editions must be submitted” (no. 1262, p. 21). As EBB correctly points out, The Athenæum was mistaken.
9. “But, no! I do not wish it.”
10. According to the “Certificat pour obtention de Passeport,” Sand’s height was one metre fifty-eight centimetres, or just over five feet two inches (Album Sand, ed. Georges Lubin, 1973, p. 73).
11. The comment in angle brackets is interpolated above the line.
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