1460. Richard Hengist Horne to EBB
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 8, 90–91.
5 Fortess Terrace
[?15] [December 1843] [1]
Yes, I knew Tennyson was in bad health– I saw him about six weeks ago, and sat up half the night with him talking of Poetry. He has no idea that I am a musician, and it might be months or years that I was intimate with anyone who had a feeling for and knowledge of the highest orders of poetry, and that anyone never be aware of my Instrumentalities. Provided, the said person did not live in the same house with me—for if so, the sound of lute or horn would declare my favorite amusement—or second love—or the voice of the handmaid of poetry.
Whoever assured you that I cared little or nothing for poetry, say to them—do you know Mr Horne thinks the finest line he ever wrote is in nearly the last words of Cosmo—who speaks of,—
Oblivion, crown’d with infinite blank stars [2]
Then, when you hear the reply, you will judge why, if I know this person, I have never been engaged in much conversation on poetry with the same. It is pride, rather than modesty, I fear, which always keeps me silent as to my own doings in poetry—and disposed to evade the subject. Of such poetry as Tennyson’s, or Wordsworth’s deepest, or Keat[s]’s sweetest—or any such as have Power, or Beauty, I am also silent for the sake of their pride—by sympathy—by reverence and care for them, and theirs.
No need, you know, to repeat this, in any of these words, to the erring party. Tastes differ. You do not admire Mr Reade—and Read[e] talks of Tennyson as “pretty,” and of Landor as “no poet.”
Yours truly
R.H.H.
P.S. Your ‘opinion’ on Monckton Milnes is hardly available in our present Court—because I do not very well discover what it amounts to. Will our learned brother be so good as speak a little more explicitly.
Oh, no, I have not had enough of you—except enough to be very grateful for. But if you will do a bit more, I will give you a fine subject for half a dozen note pages. Shall I do so?
You will be pleased to know that I think Tennyson has no sort of organic complaint. I firmly believe it is only wheels out of order—and that his dimness of sight, and fears of its loss, is merely a nervous affection. He is living upon regimen, and seems to be taking care of himself, pretty much in the best way.
Please return the inclosed proof with any marginal notes that occur—by Tuesday next.
Have you got the No of Blackwood in which you and Milnes are “treated?” [3] Can you lend it to me? If not, what date?
Address: Miss E. B. Barrett.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Pierpont Morgan Library.
1. This letter is a response to no. 1459 and precedes no. 1461, which comments upon it.
2. Cosmo de’ Medici (1837), V, vii, 32.
3. See the previous letter.
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