1706. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 9, 125–128.
[London]
Sept. 3. 1844.
Ever dearest Miss Mitford,
What ‘very fairly’ means or seems to mean, is even more than I expected at this early moment. Indeed I have asked nothing about the sale,—feeling that the book was not of a nature, nor its author’s reputation of a certainty, to admit of its going off like a pistol-shot. There must be time,—& reviews,—& opportunity for the vibration of opinions. That it may ultimately have some sufficient sale, I do not despair of the prospect—but still, I do not indulge this class of thoughts– I have done as well as I can, & hope still to do better,—& that is all which essentially concerns me. Poetry, if worth anything, will make its own way,—& if not worth anything, will fail & die, ultimately—and I do not even wish the general law to be reversed on my account. It is a righteous law—and it is my not ignoble boast, that I love Poetry better than I love my ambition & its successes. Therefore––with my shield or on my shield!, [1] —it is a high aim at least, if the arrow falls aside.
The Atlas has reviewed me very graciously indeed, & very much at length,—considering the ‘Vision of Poets’ the “most remarkable poem.” [2] If you cared to see the review I could send it to you,—but I think you must be overcome by many tongues, without the pens to boot. It praises warmly, .. even extravagantly—with some drawbacks: only I protest against being attached to a school, (meaning, I suppose, the Shelley & Keats school) & called a follower of Tennyson in respect to the use of compound words,—it being a fact that I used them long before I ever read a line of Tennyson whose earliest poems did not fall in my way until the Seraphim-volume was at the door of the press. [3] The use of the compound words I took mainly from the Greek & old English writers, & Germans,—& also Shelley, Keats, & Leigh Hunt are all full of them, if I looked nearer—& I do hold the practice to be eminently Saxon & adapted to our English. Still it is a most cordial criticism—the John Bull’s being simply malignant. The spirit of the latter you may guess when I tell you that the Dedication is held up to ridicule at arm’s length in it. Oh! Papa is so angry! He was quite angry with me, for buying the paper! Will you see it? [4]
If you do say anything on the subject to Mrs Jameson, let it be to remind her of her promise to write to me. I shd like very much to have a full sincere letter from her,—and a letter, at least, was promised through Mr Kenyon. He told me, by some general expressions, that she was pleased,—but I do not like to give up my hope of a letter. Certainly I agree with you, as everybody must, that, taken as criticism, her opinion is of more value than Miss Martineau’s can be considered. She has the very genius of criticism, in fact,—& adds to her fine sense of Beauty, a most subtle apprehension & most exercised power of analysis of the Art which produces Beauty. Still I look with anxiety to Miss Martineau’s promised opinion, [5] & attach considerable weight to it. With all her energy of logic, she has more impressionableness to poetry, than you imagine,—indeed she appears to me strongly impressionable: and then, when we take into consideration the clear masterly character of her mind, the high reason of it & the pure integrity, either to have her praise or her reasons for dispraise, must be a desirable object to any writer.
As to the smaller poems being generally liked infinitely better than the larger ones, I was prepared to hear it, & am in no degree surprised now. It is obvious that where power has to be sustained, the task is more difficult & the vacillation must be greater, than in other cases. But I think you are not quite right in thinking that Mr Kenyon goes with the majority. Up to the present moment he is inclined to regret that I did not call the book ‘Drama of Exile’ & trust everything to the commencing poem. He leans to the ‘Drama’ & to the ‘Vision of Poets’,—oh, I assure you he does! You know I cant afford to lose Mr Kenyon’s name from my ruinous minority, .. so I cry it out at the pole!–
Yes—I read the preface to ‘Le Lis’ [6] & was delighted by it—but I admire the romance itself far more than you seem to do, and as a love-romance, a nouvelle ‘Nouvelle Heloise,’ think it quite exquisite. Both Balzac’s & George Sand’s subtlety of expression & various colouring of language, I do consider wonderful: their French seems to bud & put out new leaves under their breath. Have you read the continuation of Consuelo, the Comtesse de Rudolstadt? [7] I do like those art-romances! As for Balzac’s other book, which also interested me deeply, the French journalists are not quite English journalists, .. are they? [8] Men of general literature write in the Parisian journals, & publish romances in them, & above all, do not write anonymously! Of course there is a class both here & there, unworthy of literature—& I do not mean to deny it. Only I maintain that literature is a noble profession, & that (with all its temptations) a noble man may hold it nobly.
Thank you much for the epigrams. [9] The first (on poor Mr Horne) is very clever, &, considering the provocation, excusably bitter. The last, on the Gallery, wd have been better if the grammar had lasted to the end,—but a “greater ass than me” sounds somewhat strangely. Perhaps he meant it to be assinine grammar.
Looking back to Mr Horne’s note, I perceive that I did not give you his true message, & in my repentance, send you the manuscript. Also I send Carlyle’s two letters. By an irresistible impulse I answered the first, & was repenting my act of daring, when the second reached me. Of course I wrote to defend the exercise of my art,—telling him that if the Tyrtæuses were made to fight, instead of singing, till the battle was done, the battle wd not probably be won. [10] Send these letters back. I am delighted to hear of your being amused & not slain—but ah! if the slaying shd come!– For the rest, I have a sympathy after all for the Mechanics’ syllabub. Only, if you tire yourself to death, .. what shall I do then?
Do write! And you say not a word of Mr Harness? what ought I to do? Suppose I do nothing at present, & you tell him that I was afraid of his poetical polemical orthodoxies?
May God bless you! You are right perhaps about Ægypt. Only Stormie cant be made a man of the world by being shut up in a ship-cabin,—can he?
Your own EBB–
Publication: EBB-MRM, II, 443–446.
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum.
1. Plutarch tells how a Spartan mother handed her son his shield as he departed for battle, with the injunction to return “Either with this or upon this” (“Sayings of Spartan Women,” Moralia, 241, 16).
2. Poems (1844) was reviewed in The Atlas, 31 August 1844, pp. 593–594. For the text of this review, see pp. 326–330.
3. EBB made similar statements in letters to Horne and Mathews (nos. 1635 and 1726).
4. For the text of the review in John Bull for 31 August 1844, see pp. 330–333.
6. EBB is probably referring to the preface to the Werdet edition of Le Lys dans la Vallée published in 1836, which also appeared in Balzac’s own Chronique as an “Historique du Procès” (Herbert J. Hunt, Honoré de Balzac: A Biography, 1957, pp.84–85).
7. La Comtesse de Rudolstadt (1843–45) is the sequel to Consuelo (1842).
8. Probably Un Grand Homme de Province à Paris (1839) which “was a violent attack on French journalism” (Mary F. Sandars, Honoré de Balzac, 1904, p. 216).
9. Unidentified.
10. Tyrtæus was a Spartan poet who inspired his countrymen with song in their war against the Messenians. EBB is referring to Carlyle’s advice that she write prose instead of poetry; see letter 1704.
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