1830. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 10, 54–58.
[London]
Tuesday. Feb. 4. 1845.
Ever dearest friend
The exclamation which I made at the last sentence of your letter—“I must come next .. this week,” .. made Wilson turn round to see. But how cd I help crying out? & how cd I help dreaming “in the interstices of the intersections” [1] all day yesterday, of the delightfulness of your coming, .. & of the probability of a letter by this morning’s post to say on what day the coming wd be? But the letter comes—& there is no fixing of a day after all—and I, after all, cannot find it in my heart to grumble—because, that you shd come any day, is free grace on your part, & I have no right to be exacting as to which. Still—let me say one word!—— You are coming (are you not?) for a few weeks? or—at least days? Let me arrange the matter of the lodging for you, & let Jane live here, in the matter of diet,—& do you remember that the tray & cold chicken or pheasant or whatever you are most inclined to take, await the first expression of your wish, at any hour. Do try & think it over, & see if you cannot accede to this proposal of mine—this prospectus of perfect felicity (for me!) as I conceive of it, & of absolute independence & little expense to you. As to the new gardener, leave him to your ministering angel, & the proverb about “new brooms”. [2] He will surely scarcely think fit to begin his reign by ‘picking & stealing’ [3] (that is, by picking the locks & stealing the potatoes) however he may end it so. Or could’nt you elect the honestest of your professors of the rural virtues, to live in your house while you are absent? Do—do think of it. To have long talks—a series of talks .. day after day .. & so talk Balzac into shreds .. is worth making an effort for—on my side certainly. But it is almost impertinent in me, to make such propositions so coolly. Only after all, I am not the only living soul in London; & if you came, there wd be something over & above me (in various senses) for you to see. Think of it. And remember your oath,—& that you did not go to Tours last year. [4]
Ah, my dear dearest friend! you & I, you know, fell in love at first sight—& love sees all awry. Otherwise you never wd say such things of me, nor dream them to yourself– Why you make me quite laugh. And Mr De Balzac you wd make frown in spite of your admiration for him, if he cd hear this extravagant proposition of disastrous vicissitude for his pretty, charming Modeste. And even if it were happier, I shd yet eschew it—for I agree with him that Modeste is charming—& I see her plainly, .. I agree with you. Yes, yes, yes! we do agree fully & wholly about Balzac,—wholly & to the extreme. A man of more masterly genius he is than Scott, because profounder & less conventional—a more absolute creator, in the full sense. And then as a writer, .. I mean on the point of composition & style, .. there can be no comparison with Scott, who was loose & slovenly, & had imperfect notions of the power of language as an instrument– Balzac stands alone as a master in language. No one can approach him. It appears to me that he has taken more of the theory of a poet’s use of language into prose than any prose writer ever did before,—not by figurative rhetoric, nor by passionate eloquence, .. but by that coiling up of a thought into a word & that freshness & fulness in the use of words, in which much of the poet’s peculiar art consists. I do not know whether you can guess what is in my mind to say—but I know that Balzac’s mode of writing touches the very string within me touched by the true poet in his bare language & without reference to the tune & melody. Well—and then, his artistic consistency, his sublety & completeness at once,—& last not least, his divine faith in his own creations!–
After all, what I like far less than you do in Balzac, is his fondness for attacking his own order, [5] —for I willingly use the term of Jules Janin. And now consider, my dearest friend!—is it reasonable or loyal that this man who recognizes the glory of genius in science, & in the art of painting, (think of that exquisite portrait in ‘Les deux freres’ of the artist-man of genius!) [6] should hold up the poet & the man of letters to intentional & continual scorn—the poet & man of letters alone! Is it reasonable,—is it just,—is it loyal? The feuilletoniste is precisely what Balzac has been himself all his life: all the great authors in France & especially the imaginative writers, have brought their works before the public by the feuilleton. ‘Journaliste’ does not express our idea of a writer of newspaper articles,—but of the man of letters in the grave full sense. The Juif Errant is appearing at this moment by successive feuilletons. Therefore when writers in France attack journalism, they attack their own profession,—& I am one who have a strong opinion that the writer who does so is selfdegraded. Jules Janin, according to your report, writes “the very echo of my thought,” [7] —only more eloquently than I cd write it, if not more earnestly. And now, see! what wisdom is there in all this? That peculiar temptations attend the susceptible temperament & kindling fancy of men of genius, we all know. That the struggle between the ideal & the real is stronger in them than in other men—& that the yearning to beauty draws them over more uneven ground, .. we cannot deny. And that those who live to the day & by their wits, are under the temptation to live less regular lives than those who live by making shoes, is as true & obvious. But after all, these same men are the enunciators of thoughts by which the practical flourish & the virtuous grow happier, & the world gathers gradual light. Without these men, there wd be no song in the world,—& the halo wd drop from around it. To these men, we owe gratitude & forbearance surely. And let those among them who discern, not only that beauty is beautiful but that it is true & holy, tell the rest so—instruct them, not degrade them—not scorn them as a body, & depreciate them in their profession & their objects!– Surely such were the truest & most loyal wisdom. And what offends me so in Balzac and approaches the likeness of a personal or professional jealousy, .. is his selection of the poet & literary man for the bearing of his stigma, instead of men of genius in other arts, whose irregularities & vanities & littlenesses of the class, are perfectly as obvious or as well-authenticated. But no!—he has faith in the Josephs! he gives them sympathy—he accourts them with tenderness. [8] It is the young poet alone, against whom he shuts up his heart, & denies the bread & cold water of a universal charity. I forgave him Lucien—because he intended to represent in Lucien an imperfect development of faculty—Lucien was a ‘femmelette’ & ‘un homme de poesie’ confessedly, & not a poet & man of genius. But Canalis, Canalis—I cannot forgive there. [9] Canalis indeed is depreciated in one or two passages, as a second rate producer—but then he, Balzac, rays out from him on all sides with a fiery pestilent ray of general assertion & scorn—& there is no mistaking his intention of depreciating the true poet as a complete standard of a man. I threw it all from me all the way I read, I was so angry. Too bad, too bad, indeed!– Yes—the ‘ecole angelique’ [10] does probably refers [sic] to Lamartine,—& perhaps Canalis ....… only you know, Lamartine is mentioned by name, respectfully .. I think he is .. tell me if he is’nt! Certainly I read one volume of the ‘Chute d’un ange’ .. I imagine I did—but my recollections are misty. I like his Meditations & lyrics far better than his longer poems. [11]
Yes—Delphine Gay. [12] She is the daughter of the Madame Gay—& as Gay & Girardin they are known I believe, as queens of two of the most brilliant literary salons in Paris. Delphine began by being a poetess– I will certainly send for the book you mention, & I thank you much for mentioning it. But Jules Janin must have been fou, [13] to speak so of Balzac’s great work––although I have a suspicion that Balzac is not calculated to produce generally the impression he has produced upon us. It is the artistic power in him which strikes us so profoundly, & proportionately to our habit & experience of judging & analyzing art. I fancy that people in general (apart from the offensive qualities) wd complain of heaviness where we are adoring. What do you think?
And now I want to ask you– Do you think you cd take courage & attempt the eight volumes of Frederic Soulié[’]s Memoires du diable? [14] eight rather thick volumes? I am in the midst & heat of them—& though they stink in one’s nostrils [15] not infrequently & are full of most gorgeous extravagances, the variety & power, the invention, (flash upon flash), & the vividness of life all through, render them to my mind, a most remarkable work. Do you think you have courage for it?– If so, try it. Dont recommend it to Mr Lovejoy by mistake .. or to anybody else without precaution. Much in it is most disgusting. But you must be struck by the variety of power in it,—& I cant keep back any new sight from you. Yes indeed!—how nearer & nearer we are drawn in this ‘palpitating literature,’ as you call it so truly! palpitating is just the word! & it sets me palpitating too, whatever it may do by yourself–
But “fifty” .. my dearest friend! you are much below the mark, I beg to say!– The divine Eleonora with bare shoulders is fifty nine, & not a day less. [16] & now I think that Balzac shd be encouraged in his laudable inclination to perpetuate the reign of female beauty—but I cant clap my hands any more today.
Your own EBB
PS. I know no new work—since Modeste .. alas! Yes—I remembered after I had sent the letter. Marie Louise of course! Poor M. Antoinette! [17]
Address: Miss Mitford / Three Mile Cross / near Reading.
Publication: EBB-MRM, III, 68–72.
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum.
1. Cf. definition of “network” in Samuel Johnson’s dictionary.
2. Cf. John Heywood, Proverbs, part II, chap. i.
3. Cf. “To keep my hands from stealing and picking” in the form of the catechism prior to confirmation in The Book of Common Prayer.
4. Miss Mitford had talked of going to France in mid-1844, but she did not go (see letter 1643). In a letter of 5 October 1844, EBB told Mrs. Martin that “It appears probable, .. not impossible at any rate, .. that I shall have dear Miss Mitford in town sometime this winter. She is under a vow to come if she did not go to Tours, which she did not do; and I hold fast to the logical inference” (see no. 1731).
5. i.e., the feuilletonistes.
6. Les Deux Frères, first published in La Presse in 1841, was the first part and Un Ménage de Garçon (1842) the second part of what was eventually called La Rabouilleuse. The “artist-man of genius” EBB refers to is undoubtedly the painter, Joseph Bridau, who is contrasted with his ruthless and self-serving brother, Philippe.
7. Cf. Twelfth Night, II, 4, 21.
8. i.e., those who are not poets but artists of some other kind, such as Joseph Bridau mentioned above.
9. See letter 1819 for EBB’s earlier comments regarding Balzac’s characters.
10. “Angelic school.” In Modeste Mignon, Canalis, who is thought to be a satirical portrayal of Lamartine, or perhaps a composite of Lamartine and Chateaubriand, is compared to Lamartine who is described as chief of the angelic school.
12. Delphine de Girardin (née Gay, 1804–55) was the author of Essais poétiques (1824) and Nouveaux essais poétiques (1825). Under the pseudonym “Vicomte Charles de Launay,” she later contributed to her husband’s newspaper, La Presse. Her mother was Marie Françoise Sophie Gay (née Nichault de Lavalette, 1776–1852) whose Un Mariage sous L’Empire (1832) EBB had recommended to Miss Mitford (see letter 1774) as “a subject” for her “translating friend.”
13. “Mad.”
14. Les Mémoires du Diable (1837–38).
15. Cf. Amos 4:10.
16. A reference to the Duchesse de Chaulieu in Modeste Mignon (see letter 1826, note 15).
17. In letter 1826, EBB said she had “dreamt daggers” all her life of Marie Antoinette and Lady Byron; she is correcting herself here because she had meant to say Marie Louise.
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