1819. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 10, 31–36.
[London]
[20–21] Jan. 1845. [1]
Ever dearest Miss Mitford–
In the first place, .. to show how we strike electric sparks by coincidences, .. I put down ‘Modeste Mignon’ to take up your letter. I read my French abomination at breakfast & dinner & tea time, .. so as to forget myself & be delighted to find that I have eaten a little more than usual in my trance (deeper than the mesmeric) & happy state of physical unconsciousness. And at breakfast, came the post, .. or at the very earliest period after breakfast, .. when even Mignon could not beguile me further into muffin. And your first words are .. for I read the yellow paper first, .. are still of Mignon, Mignon. It is a decided case of flint to flint—& of electricity by coincidence.
Well—and I am delighted with the book just as you are—nay, more charmed than you say you are, .. because charmed beyond the point of pleasure produced by mere artistic power in the writer. The truth is .. let me whisper it into your ear—that if I were to write my own autobiography, or rather, (much rather!) if Balzac were to write it for me, he could not veritably have made it different from what he has written of Modeste. The ideal life of my youth was just that, .. line for line .. colour for colour—and one expression especially startled me with its identity to my own experience, .. I mean when he speaks of “la satieté par la pensée.” [2] I have felt it to a degree, that when face to face with my own mind (& if that is an Irishism, why so is the Greek know thyself!) [3] the doubt has again & again occurred to me whether it was quite an exceptional experience on my part, or comparatively a common one. The process of castle-building, everybody, I suppose, more or less, has been an adept in—but that consistent living of another synchronal life in the ideal, cannot be equally so—Madame de Genlis describes in her autobiography something like it [4] —but Balzac’s Modeste realizes my own experience of it over again. And that “satieté par la pensée.”!– There, lies the test of the morbidity—for it is morbid—it is dangerous! & worse romances than poor Modeste’s is likely to be, (I have only read a third of the book) might come of it, .. where the foundation of principle is not strong to the exceptional degree also. Do read that part about the ideal life over again, .. & think of me. I was Modeste without her beauty. I used to move about at one time in a dream,—happy beyond the realities of life (perhaps)—until the satiety came,—& another thing, .. the remorse. For as there is satiety for life ‘par la pensée’, just as for real life .. so is there remorse for it besides. Let those who have imaginative daughters, beware of that ‘safe plan,’ as it is said to be, of keeping them in seclusion—let them beware of their love of solitude & habits of silence. They may be drinking deeper of life among the sheep, that [sic] they ever wd think of doing in the city. Such girls will not run away with Mr A or Mr B—no, nor with their father’s footman by an illusion. They may be above that—but scarcely safer than that. At least, life in the mind is not nothing. It is as operative in its effects on the character as exterior life, .. & then, who can controul it? What friend’s counsel,—& what mother’s tear?
So much more, I could write of this! I believe that, in my own case, poetry was my safety valve, .. & that without it, the disease within (we must call it a form of insanity) wd have manifested itself fantastically some day. I hope not worse than fantastically—but the imagination at play with loaded pistols, is a dangerous thing, & we must not be too confident of ourselves.
See how frankly I write to you. Do not think too badly of me in exchange. It proves the power of this romance that it should set one’s self in the sight of one’s self livingly & vividly, as it has done with me! And then, as you say, such beautiful writing! Such subtlety, both in words & thoughts! He is a great writer. As to Bernard, Balzac leaves him behind thousands of miles, to my apprehension. My dearest friend, praise Charles de Bernard as you please, but dont name him with Balzac!—that post is not tenable.
For the rest, I agree with you that Delavigne is not a man of genius, (precisely what I meant to say of him!) & that Victor Hugo is. I agree altogether. But if you see no genius in that magnificent scene of pure passion in Pippa Passes, which you were one of the first to point out to me, we differ again & widely. [5] Faults, & obscurities & perplexities of diction, Browning has undoubtedly—but it appears to me as clear as this sun of noonday, now shining on my paper, that he is a man of genius in a true sense. You are not, I think, quite right in what you say of his having been cried up & applauded. He has had very little of the ‘rank popular breath’ [6] for him; & the critics have shown him (from the Athenæum downwards) no superfluous courtesy. Those who esteem him, are of a small circle, but generally esteemed themselves for their insight into imaginative poetry .. a fit audience of few. [7] Be sure of one thing—that the world will not let die that scene which you pointed out to me in Pippa Passes—to go no further! We shall see—that is, we shall see some things—& other people will see other things. My opinion is that Browning’s name will stand, when the springtide comes!
And Balzac certainly agrees with you in matters of authorship—certainly he does. I yield it to you with reluctance though—& refuse, for my own part, to agree with either of you. What a fine thought that is, .. that the working hand of an artist (in the general sense of the word artist) is the continuation of his brain.!
Yes—but, dearest friend,—are you not aware that Miss Martineau has published a letter in the newspapers, to deny formally having ever given the permission in question? It is a mild letter, but decisive: & she says in it, that he entirely mistook both her meaning & wishes, & that she was shocked beyond expression when she heard of the publication, ten days after it had taken place—& she had not seen it (she says) even then– He applied to her, & observed, that for the sake of his own character, some explanation of the case was due to his professional friends. She answered (constraining herself to answer, very painfully) that ‘we all must act according to our own ideas of truth & rectitude’ .. or something to that effect. That he wd make public her case in a shilling pamphlet, &, quoting her authority, .. never once, she declares, entered her mind, .. as it never could enter into the wishes of any woman in the world. To such effect, was her letter,—with extracts from the letters on each side. [8] And so, my dear, dearest friend, you must not lay the indelicacy to her charge any more, of having given permission for the publication of so dreadful a case. Dreadful it is, indeed. Thank you for telling me——. But how am I to get the pamphlet? I do not like to send for it– It might be disagreeable. Perhaps if you can, pleasantly to yourself, procure it when you are coming, .. you wd bring it & let me pay you for it, & read & burn it. There’s a plan for you!– A dreadful, dreadful case, it must be. And she appears only reasonable, poor thing, in her belief that she was not likely ever to recover from it,—just as I fear you are, in speaking of the probability of a relapse. She says she is very prudent, & takes no excessive exercise. Did you ever hear of such a complaint before?–
Today I have had a curious intimation & question by letter, .. whether, in the case of an official application from the Leaguers, I should object to writing them a poem for their grand Bazaar?– [9] I hesitate how to answer. My sympathies go strongly with the body,—& I am flattered at the idea of its having occurred to anybody in their relation, that my poetry was worth having!—love & vanity go so far! But then, I am not sure, first, whether cornlaw matters are the best in the world for the matter of poetry, .. & secondly, whether it is not & whether it might not be considered by some of my friends, undesirable to take such a prominent post in the political ground, harp in hand & petticoat down to the ankles.
But I am writing ungenerously—I feel I am. Not like a Godiva! [10] It is a righteous cause, & I know it to be righteous– It is not mere party-ground. I believe I ought to do it, if they ask me. Tell me if I ought not. Tell me your whole thought. Of course it is wholly dependent on the official invitation—I wd not think of meddling otherwise. But if I am asked—ought I to say ‘no’—unless Papa says ‘no’—? I could not vex him of course. Tell me your whole thought—& tell nobody else. It sounds whimsical, .. but the real truth is, as far as I can learn, that Leeds with its roaring commerce & dense smoke-canopy, is one of the strongholds if not the stronghold of my poetry, which all you refined people call ‘mystical’. They seem to like it there, as well if not better than anywhere else. Strange!—is it not?
And now I shall write no more today. If the Queen is right queenly, she will do herself the honour of going to see you from Strathfieldsaye [11] —(or how is it spelt?) We shall see—as I say of Robert Browning’s genius.
Your most affectionate
EBB.
‘Mon Ami Piffard’ is not, one of his best works, understand. Oh yes—I agree with you altogether in your criticism.
Tuesday
See how I amused myself last night, over Modeste Mignon! [11.5] In the original, it is a graceful little melody,—but not equal to some lyrics scattered in other works by the same hand—nothing more than prettiness in it after all! Ah! you think he might be a great poet. I doubt it. If he could, he would, I think, .. however he may depreciate & write down the brotherhood. The sense of music too, in every true poet, is irrisistible as vocation or at least tendency—is it not?
My dearest friend—there is a want, moreover, of consistency in his depreciation of the man of genius, ..‘poéte’. In one or two places he calls Canalis, ‘secondary’, .. so, placing him in the rank of poor Lucien de Rubempré: & then again he comes down with a full swoop of sarcasm on the whole genus poet, in the essential nature, & without reference to the lower forms of the faculty. And how absurd this is!– He can speak reverently of genius in other developments,—as in the case of the physician & inventor. I hope that no literary jealousies have helped to breed the argument .. infirm as I take it to be in this book.
Surely Canalis is quite of the type of second rate authors. Remember! his best poem is “an imitation of Moore’s ‘Loves of the Angels’”—a circumstance calculated to settle our estimate of him—agree to it!
For the inconsistency about journalism,—I now think the less of it, as it was sure & true from the beginning. All these French romance writers are journalists. Of each of them we may say
Il l’est, le fut, ou le doit être— [12]
because, you see, they publish their romances in the feuilleton-form [13] —they all do & have done,—Balzac, Eugene Sue, .. all!
How delighted I was with the story of the finding of your book in the uninhabited lands—! Was it a fossil ‘Village’ or what? That is fame!!! better than Goldsmith’s in the parlour window. [14]
Your ever affecte
EBB
Dear Flush! How glad I am of his recovery!
Address: Miss Mitford / Three Mile Cross / near Reading.
Publication: EBB-MRM, III, 59–64 (as [21 January 1845] and [22] January 1845).
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum.
1. This letter was completed the following day. The envelope bears a Reading receiving stamp of 22 January 1845.
2. “Satiety through thought.”
3. From an inscription in the temple at Delphi, often ascribed to “The Seven Sages.”
4. The Mémoires Inédits of Stéphanie Félicité, Comtesse de Genlis (1746–1830) was published in 8 vols. in 1825–26.
5. Miss Mitford sent RB’s poem to EBB soon after it was published in April 1841, and described one scene as “exquisite” (see letter 828). The scene referred to is perhaps the one between Ottima and Sebald in part I.
6. Cf. Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, III, cxiii, 2.
7. Cf. Paradise Lost, VII, 31.
9. From 8 to 27 May 1845, the National Anti-Corn Law League, “at the earnest entreaty of a number of ladies,” held a bazaar in the Covent Garden Theatre. About 100,000 people visited the exhibition of products from the manufacturing industries. Some 400 ladies, wives and daughters of Free-traders, tended the various stalls. Over £25,000 was collected to support the goals of the League. See letter 1832 in which EBB asks Kenyon for his advice, and no. 1836, for EBB’s explanation to Miss Mitford of her reason for deciding against submitting a poem.
11. See letters 1762 and 1790.
11.5. Presumably, EBB refers to her translation entitled “The young girl’s song,” subtitled “Done out of Balzac—or undone,” from Balzac’s Modeste Mignon (1844). See Reconstruction, D1205. The editors gratefully acknowledge Barbara Neri for bringing this reference to their attention, May 2022.
12. “He is one [i.e., a journalist], was one, or ought to be one.” Voltaire, “Inscription pour l’Amour” in Tablettes d’un Curieux, ou le Porte-Feuille (1757).
14. We are unable to explain the specific story of fame of Miss Mitford’s Our Village to which EBB refers. The reference to “Goldsmith’s [fame] in the parlour window” is to an anecdote recorded by The Rev. Edward Mangin in The Parlour Window (1841): “I was well acquainted with a Mr. Carroll, who was bred to the bar; and one day, in conversation, he told me the following fact. He, and some other young Irishmen, having assembled in a room in C.’s lodgings in the Temple, amused themselves by quoting, with enthusiastic admiration, various passages from a newly published poem, ‘The Deserted Village:’ (published in 1770:) when a stranger entered, and, in a strong Irish accent, introduced himself as a fellow-countryman, desirous of their encouragement in a forthcoming work of his, then in the press. This they vociferously promised him; and afterwards tried to put his pretensions to the test; asking him, among other questions, as they repeated portions of the fine poem which had enraptured them, when he would be able to write verses like those? He smiled, and replied that he could already do so, for that he was the author of the lines they were pleased to applaud. And thus the parties became acquainted with the eccentric and gifted Oliver Goldsmith” (p. 2).
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