Correspondence

3236.  Robert Bulwer Lytton to RB

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 19, 196–199.

Florence.

July. 26. 1853.

My dear Browning

I feel quite unable to thank you enough for your kind & thrice welcome letter. I was on the point of writing to you, when I received it. Any scrap from you would be prized by me, for to have a place in the mind of a great man is indeed a noble privilege. But this letter—so full of kindness– I cannot say how I am touched and gladdened by it. Believe me I am most grateful. No criticism—no encouragement cd affect me so much as that which comes from you, for I have been for years your constant hearty & reverent admirer. How good of you to write to me at such length. Since you have been away I have parted also from a great friend of mine here, [1] a most honest good man, & therefore hated by ye Govt I begin to feel like a man who has lost all his teeth—nothing but gaps into which one lolls a listless tongue. What a simile! If Mr Alexander Smith shd ever accept your hint, and liken the new moon to a paring from his mistress’ nail, I shall respectfully offer him this, also. I met your old servant [2] walking in the street the other day, with a very red nose, & humming to himself a moody tune, he looked a “most musical, most melancholy bird,” [3] but more melancholy than musical. You will have heard all about Guerazzi. [4] I believe that it was not at first his intention to apply for the Grand Ducal Grace, but that he was afterwards induced to do so in order, not to impede his fellow prisoners from receiving it. There is a report here that he was only set at liberty on condition that he should admit & avow the justice of his condemnation & that his name should be struck off the list of Lawyers; but that on his refusing these terms the matter was compromised, and it was finally settled that these conditions shd remain tacked on to the Published document announcing his liberation, but should not be carried into effect. How far this is true I don’t know. And I have not even seen any published document & doubt if there is one.

Who shd you think is living in the upper rooms at my villa, but a brother of the Docter [sic] who was imprisoned with Silvio Pelico. [5] He is a clever man. He has married an English woman with a face like a blighted lemon. I have called on them once, but we meet seldom. Scarlett is gone to Pietra Santa; now & then he sends us one of his famous Dispatches, to copy. He has got a great case about “a fraudulent endeavour to smuggle[.]” Other news I have none. I believe that half of Florence, is with you at the Bagni. For myself, I have long ago crept into my shell for good.

The people here wear their iniquities like titles, after the fashion of that story of Sir Godfr[e]y Kneller. [6] Do you remember an annecdote [sic] of his overhearing a drunken man, swearing in the street—and saying “G—d—d—n me”. I suppose that was a gentleman’s oath, so up goes Sir Godfr[e]y, all ruffled, “G—d d—n you Sir! G—d may d—n the Duke of Marlbro; and perhaps Sir Godfrey Kneller, but I am sure he wont do any such thing as d—n a low scoundrel like you!”

Dear little Vil[l]ari came to see me yesterday. The child of a great friend of his is just dead. He had been watching, for weeks by the sick bed; his cheek looked quite hollow with care. What a grand thing grief is! When some man comes to me wrapped up in a great sorrow all other people suddenly dwindle into tricks & shams, as tho’ he were the only real man in the world. I think the man who feels even greater than he that thinks. The other night Goëthe seemed to me almost a god, and when I was talking with Vil[l]ari, Goëthe seemed more despicable than a worm. But there are a class of persons I cannot quite understand, who are always affecting a sentiment[.] I have heard women exclaim “I love flowers so!” & yet pluck every rose in a garden. And some people clasp their hands and say “I adore talent” yet one feels all the while that they would be gar[r]ulous in the presence of Socrates.

I miss very much the happy evenings which I used sometimes to spend with you, and think often with gratitude of your kindness in coming to see me that last night before you went. It has been a great Era in my life to have met & known you, & I often ask myself with shame if I am really worthy to seek your friendship. Yet I almost dare to say you have not a more hearty friend, tho’ many less insignificant.

Mr Ten[n]yson is gone to England. I saw him for a moment before he went.

I am very glad to hear that the Storrys [sic] are at Lucca–

My heart smites me grievously for never having written to them, and they were very kind to me at Rome, but I am the worst correspondent in the world and it is not from laziness but sheer inability.

I have given the proper directions about your letters & shall know to day if they have retained any at the Post office.

The absence of my Chef, prevents me from hoping to see you just yet. But your very kind invitation is most alluring; and I need no other allurement than that of seeing you both.

Thank dear Mrs Browning for her most kind letter, & for her liberality in offering to rece<ive> me & my pipe. Is not the letter I sent astounding? I should say, of that criticism of Clytemnestra, that my father has not seen my poems since I was quite a child—& therefore, naturally, exaggerates my progress.

I have nothing to add but that I am your faithful & aff.

RBL.

If you have read them, and can conveniently do so, I should be very much obliged, if you wd kindly send me two of my effusions, “The Artist” & “The Earl’s Return”, [7] as I have no copy of them & wish to make one. Never mind about postpaying them[.] I think they will be paid by the Legation, wh remark refers also to your letters.

RBL

Pray remember me most kindly to the Storries.

Address, on integral page: Monsieur / Monsieur Browning / Casa Tolomei / Bagni di Lucca.

Publication: BBIS-10, pp. 31–34.

Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library.

1. Unidentified.

2. Probably the recently replaced Vincenzio. The Brownings’ previous manservant, Alessandro Barsotti, had left their service in May 1851, a year and a half before they met Lytton.

3. Cf. Coleridge, “The Nightingale” (1798), line 13.

4. See letter 3220, note 26.

5. Silvio Pellico (1788–1854), Italian dramatist and patriot, was arrested by the Austrians in 1820 and imprisoned briefly at the Santa Margherita prison in Milan, then the Piombi prison in Venice, before being condemned to the infamous Spielberg prison in Brünn (now Brno, Czech Republic), where the Austrian Empire sent its political enemies. Pellico’s most admired literary production was a narrative of his prison experiences entitled Le Mie Prigioni (My Prisons), published at Turin in 1832. In Le Mie Prigioni, Pellico refers to two doctors who were imprisoned with him at Piombi: Cesare Armari and Eleuterio Felice Foresti (1789–1858). We have been unable to determine which doctor Lytton has in mind, much less the doctor’s brother.

6. Godfrey Kneller, formerly Gottfried Kniller (1646–1723), was a German-born historical and portrait painter who emigrated to England in 1676. According to the ODNB, “during the reign of William and Mary, Kneller’s position as court and society painter was unrivalled.” He was knighted in 1692, and in 1700 he was made a knight of the Holy Roman Empire by Emperor Leopold I.

7. Title poems in Lytton’s 1855 work; see letter 3232, note 4.

___________________

National Endowment for the Humanities - Logo

Editorial work on The Brownings’ Correspondence is supported by the National Endowment for the Humanities.

This website was last updated on 3-28-2024.

Copyright © 2024 Wedgestone Press. All rights reserved.

Back To Top