1131. Hugh Stuart Boyd to EBB
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 6, 297–298.
| [In the hand of an amanuensis] [1] | [London] |
[Postmark: 19 January 1843]
My very dear Friend,
Since I last wrote to you, the Poems of Darthula [2] [h]as been read to me again. It appears to me, a thing very extraordannary, that a mind like yours, should not take grate delight in such Poetry as that of Ossian. There is one thing which is not a matter of taste, but a matter of fact; and of this you can judge very well. I mean, the general music of language, and the exquisite cadencis which sometimes occur. If you cannot see, and feel this, you must indeed be blinded with prejudice. There is an other very remarkable thing, which you intirely pass over; I mean the greate purety of Ossian’s taste. What a conciseness both in the ideas, and in the expressions. You find here, no similes or metaphor overcharged; nothing defusive and redundant. How free is he in this, from that fault, which is so common even in the greatest Writers. Yet, all this you pass over. I wish now, to say a little of the Poem of Darthula. If the description of her death, and the death of the three Brothers, with the simile of the oak tree, of the lamentation of the Bards over Darthula, be not in the highest strain of Poetry, if they be not transscendantly beautyfull; why than, I can have no judgement. [3] When I was a young man, I think I was particularly attracted by the Poem called The Songs of Selma. I have now gone through it three times, and some part more. This little poem seems to me, an exquisite piece of Poetry from begening to end, and harmonious flow of sweetness, and exhibiting in some places much pathos. There is one passage more, which I wish to mention; and if the thing be possible, I wish much, that you would read it without prejudice. I mean the opening of Berrathon. The Poet begins by prefiguring his own death. He than cal[l]s on Malhina to bury him. She is not there. If all this passage be not one of the most exquisite passages ever written, I think, I had better not talk any more about Poetry. The Poet then describes the place, where Fingal, and other Spirits dewell. If this passage be not as fine, as any thing which you can produce from any Book, except the Bible; I must have been spending my life in vain, as far as Poetry is concerned; or perhaps, my faculties may be injured. When speaking of the taste of Ossian, I should have mentioned another thing. How very plain, short, and simple are the words; and yet, out of such scanty materials, what a beautiful structure is reared. Indeed I think, that too many monosyllables come to-gether.
My kind love to Arabel.
Ever yours affectionately
H.S. Boyd.
Address, on integral page: Miss Barrett, / 50. Wimpole Street, / Cavendish Square.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Pierpont Morgan Library.
1. The numerous misspellings in this letter may be attributed to the unidentified amanuensis. We leave the errors unmarked by the intrusive [sic].
2. All the poems discussed in this letter appear in James Macpherson’s purported translations of Ossian.
3. Dar-thula, in love with Nathos, fled with him and his two brothers, but a storm cast their ship on the coast of Ulster where Cairbar, who also loved Dar-thula, was encamped with his army. The three brothers were overpowered and slain, whereupon Dar-thula killed herself.
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