1489. EBB to Richard Hengist Horne
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 8, 136–139.
[London]
Friday night & saturday morng. Jan 5 [–6]. 1844–
My majesty was astounded at the impromptu of a chapter on the novelists, sent by electricity to Windsor. A pile of “commands” took fire; & was consumed on the spot.
It is a very clever paper– Tell me who wrote it—in a very small whisper. [1]
You tell me always to write on the margin; & I suppose I take for granted that you wish it, & have other proofs for use. Otherwise I shd never, I think, go on blotting so impudently the length & breadth of my opiniativeness.
And, my dear Mr Horne, it really does strike me strongly that you & your critic do no manner of justice to Mrs Trollope, who is a very clever writer, .. very acute,—absolute over laughter in matters of caricature on the coarse scale,—& moreover, .. which scarcely accords with her general character as either you or I consider it, .. a vivid & graphic painter of scenic nature—— Because I said this illegibly somewhere in the proof, I say it over again here. I am determined that you shall read me–
Also Mrs Gore’s wit shd be specifically mentioned. She is “almost feminine,” tell your critic, in the flashing of her wit– [2]
Also .. Mr James is praised far too much, to my mind.
Also, .. such a writer as Banim, a true genius, should have been mentioned in the body of your article. You might have done it in a paragraph. [3]
Also .. there is another omission which I shall never end talking of, if it proves to be actually an omission.— Do you mean calmly, advisedly, & with your eyes open, to have a chapter on the novelists, & omit Bulwer?– Or do you (which wd be a satisfactory explanation) give him a room to himself? [4] But if so, why not refer to him in this paper as a leader in the highest class of the art, to be mentioned hereafter? Think, Mr Horne, of Ernest Maltravers & Alice—worth all the historical novels … I was near saying .. that ever were written! You, a poet & dramatist, & to forget the passionate unity of that great work! for the two romances complete the single work. And then,—even if you succeed in lifting the historical romance over the head of all other kinds of romance—(a position which I protest stedfastly & vociferously against, .. as untenable & unworthy of a poet’s editorship) by that very sign, Sir Lytton Bulwer takes throne-rank in his Pompeii & Rienzi, while Mr James lies under the footstool–
Not that I wd dishonor Mr James. He is a picturesque writer, & paints his canvas-deep figures in bright costume, & in the midst of excellent landscape. Often when I have been very unwell, I have been able to read his books with advantage, when I cd not read better ones. You may read him from end to end without a superfluous beat of the heart—& they are just the sort of intellectual diet fitted for persons “ordered to be kept quiet” by their physicians. Do not mistake—I am writing quite gravely—& not, I hope, ungratefully. I am grateful to Mr James for many a still serene hour. I have every respect for him as a sensible level writer,—a very agreeable writer,—pure-minded, & with talents in his own province. But to give him place as a romance-writer over Bulwer the prose-poet of the day, & over Banim the prose-dramatist,—is, must be, a monstrous exaggeration of his actual claim. Besides this measuring of novelists’ merits by their “regular issue,” strikes me as a false step in itself. Such is my protestation.
Tell me—did you ever read ‘Ernest Maltravers’ with its sequence of ‘Alice’?– I suspect nay—or you wd not in your editorship be so patient. It appears to me that you cultivate scorn for the novel-readers,—or else have no comprehension for them, dividing them into classes of Godwin-readers, Fielding-readers, Richardson-readers, James-readers & so forth. You have no sympathy for persons, who, when they were children, beset everybody in the house, from the proprietor to the second housemaid, “to tell them a story”,—& retain so much of their childhood—green as grass,—as that love of stories. If a reader reads Smollet for the literature, I can quite comprehend how the same reader cd not read Richardson—& a fortiori, [5] how James wd be an insipid sort of caviare to him. But where the taste for fiction is a thing distinct from the taste for literature,—the very same persons may sieze upon the story of a hundred story-tellers, & love, for the sake of it, the “makings” of even inferior hands. Oh .. that love for story-telling! it may be foolish to be sure! it leads one into waste of time & false excitements, to be sure. Still, how pleasant it is! how full of enchantment & dream-time gladnesses! What a pleasant accompaniment to one’s lonely coffee-cup in the morning or evening, to hold a little volume in the left hand, & read softly along how Lindoro saw Monimia over the hedge & what he said to her!– After breakfast, we have other matters to do, .. grave “business matters”––poems to write upon Eden, or essays on Carlyle, .. or literature in various shapes to be employed seriously on. But everybody must attend to a certain proportion of practical affairs of life .. & Lindoro & Monimia bring us ours– [6] And then, if Monimia behaves pretty well, what rational satisfaction we have in settling her at the end of the book! No woman who speculates & practises “on her own account,” has half the satisfaction in securing an establishment, that we have with our Monimias——nor should have,—let it be said boldly—<…> [7] did we not divine it wd and so, .. albeit ourselves & Monimia were weeping together at the end of the second volume? Even to the middle of the third when Lindoro was sworn at for a traitor by everybody in the book, may it not be testified gloriously of us, that we saw through him, & relied implicitly upon an exculpating fidelity which should be “in” at the finis, to glorify him finally? What! have you known nothing, Mr Editor, of these exultations? Indeed your note looks like it. I cd almost fancy you had’nt—if this talk of ‘taste, taste’,—& of readers tuned to St Leon, [8] who never cd read anything else. The love of fiction, as such, escapes you wholly. I cd almost fancy that you never felt inclined even to commit justifiable homicide on an individual, who, having read the book you are reading, & beholding you with tears in your eyes over the thickest of the sorrows of it, should venture to inform you that Monimia will get over it all in the third volume. But indeed this is scarcely credible.
Here I am writing as if neither you nor I had anything to do in the ’varsel world. [9] Forgive me, or try.
And mind you dont show the proof with my pertnesses on it, to your critic– Trusting to you, I never care for what I write; but let it go to you as it comes to me.
The note will do excellently for Mr Mathews– And, considering that it comes from Orion, he need not grudge the postage– Otherwise I shd scarcely venture to make him pay double postage—over the atlantic—by enclosing & re-inclosing. [10] Never mind.
Ever truly yours
EBB–
Very kindly you send the proofs in order to prove an act of oblivion upon my act of carelessness.
And I send it back directly .. to be in time for once.
Address: R H Horne Esqr
Publication: EBB-RHH, I, 212–220 (in part).
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum.
1. Horne does not disclose the writer’s identity in any extant letter. The paper in question was that on the novelists, sent with the previous letter.
2. Catherine Grace Frances Gore (née Moody, 1798–1861) was a novelist and dramatist whose “writings are characterised by great cleverness in invention, lively satire, shrewd insight … and keen observation” (DNB). Horne did not accept EBB’s suggestion to make specific mention of Mrs. Gore’s wit.
3. Horne added a paper on “Banim and the Irish Novelists” (II, 143–152). John Banim (1798–1842) wrote, in collaboration with his brother Michael (1796–1874), a series of novels, Tales by the O’Hara Family.
4. Bulwer was given a chapter to himself (II, 189–214).
5. “With stronger reason.”
6. Monomia is the heroine of Smollett’s Ferdinand Count Fathom (1753). The male protagonist, however, is Renaldo, not Lindoro.
7. Approximately half a line crossed out by EBB.
8. A pseudo-historical tale, published in 1799 by William Godwin (1756–1836).
9. Cf. Romeo and Juliet, II, 4, 206.
10. At this time, foreign postage was assessed on the number of sheets, and was paid by the recipient.
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