1896. EBB to Cornelius Mathews
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 10, 179–183.
50 Wimpole Street. London–
April 30th 1845.
My dear Mr Mathews,
I do hope it is not true of me that I am forgotten of you,—for if so, I shall sigh heavily by the waters of Babylon & throw my pen away among the willows. [1] Only first I must try it upon you,—I must write. And after all, am I to blame a little .. as well as yourself.? Did I write last—or did you? The silence criminates somebody of us—& because I feel so sorry, I take for granted that I must be innocent,—remembering moreover that I did mean to send you a letter long ago, & that I waited & waited to be able to speak to you of a notice of your poems by a hand known to you, in Tait’s Magazine. Mr Tait kept the m∙s. by him three quarters of an eternity, & at last sent me a proof—& I look forward to the sight of it (if Fate & Tait go together!) on May day perhaps. [2] You must forgive it when you see it—for it contains a mere ‘blink o’ the ee’ at American poetry generally, .. & then, some brief sentences on yours. It is just better than silence, and will barely prove to you, the goodwill which is impotent in the doing, though earnest in the meaning.—
In the meantime here is winter at an end at last. It has been a hard winter for me to live through—& several times, I felt my spirits fail with my strength,—& day by day (as I looked in the glass) I seemed to grow whiter & whiter. But now, the frosts are gone,—the east winds are undone—the sun is out,—& while the primroses spring up in the hedges I gather life, & “new pleasures,” [3] as the old poets used to say. With the rest of me, my gratitude (which never withered I beg to say!) grows fresh anew, & sprouts freshly—& I do hope (to myself) that you received my last letters of thanks about the generous critical welcomes afforded to my poems in America. On the subject of the American Whig review, for instance, which was so admirably done,—only too liberally,—did I pour out my thankfulness from such a bowl as the gods drink nectar out of, .. & were you conveniently drenched by it? And did I thank you individually, dear kind Mr Mathews, warmly & cordially, as I felt in my heart? Now do tell me. I have heard nothing certainly from you since you sent me my own history from your pen, & other generous notices? [4] Yes—the Whig came afterwards,—but no letter!– Write to me,—do! & let me be sure that nothing is the matter—& tell me what you are doing,—& satisfy, if you can, my desires for your prosperity—both in literature & life. By the last packet I had kind letters from Mr Lowell of Massachusetts, & from Mrs Sigourney—& these made me miss you all the more. My great debt in America, I always consider, is to you & it is a debt that I am not likely to forget, as I do not even wish to forget it.
From what I have said of the winter, you will not expect to hear much lively news from me. Indeed I know of none. My only visits come in letters,—which are frequent enough, & often pleasant enough: they are welcome white faces. Yes, I have seen Miss Mitford—& yes, I often see my own cousin, dear Mr Kenyon. Miss Martineau continues better in health than she ever was in her life,—but there is a great gully between her & the editor of the Athenæum, [5] .. as you will observe if you are a reader of that journal. She is at Birmingham at present, & sent me some violets (in a letter as fragrant from other causes!) which she gathered in a lane, the other day—and she is to spend the summer at Ambleside with the lakes & Wordsworth. He .. the prince of poets .. is in London now while I write,—having been invited or “commanded” up for the purpose of attending the queen’s ball– Rogers lent him a court dress & a sword,—& as he kissed Victoria’s fair hand, she told him that she “had never seen him before & was glad to do so then.” [6] And so do queens speak to Kings!– He is as well as possible, & touched his seventy sixth birthday some few days ago. As to Rogers, .. who lent him the sword, & who is a patriarch in comparison, & several years past eighty, .. he continues to be young, though the world robs his coffers. He makes assignations with the sun .. to see it set in the park as he goes out to dinner,—& catches the starlight as he comes home. How delightful, to keep such a young poet’s heart, .. alive to the simplest uses of Beauty, .. after so many years of the world! I do not know him personally—but I hear of his having said the other day at a sunset—“How sublime! Presently we shall see the angels”!
Mr Lough the sculptor, has finished a very beautiful reclining figure of Southey—but the expression of the face & general attitude is criticised as being ambiguous, .. & suggestive of a painful doubt as to whether the poet sleeps or dies. A book is falling from his hand—& the striking resemblance & exceeding beauty of execution are said to increase the painfulness of the ambiguity in question. [7]
Mr Horne is still in Germany—but I expect soon to hear of his return. He thought of coming home in April——& here is April on the hinge of turning into May!–
Mr Chorley of the Athenæum, & ‘Music & Manners,’ has a comedy on the anvil, & a novel off it, [8] .. which last will appear, it is supposed, in the autumn at hand.
Mr Browning, with whom I have had some correspondence lately, is full of great intentions,—the light of the future is on his forehead. Also he will burn clear, I think, as he burns on,—he is a poet for posterity. [9] I have a full faith in him as poet & prophet. He talks of going abroad again this summer.
Poor Hood is dying, .. in a state of perfect preparation & composure, among the tears of his friends. His disease has been consumption, .. is, in fact, .. but the crisis is combined with water on the chest which is expected to bring death. To a friend who asked him the other morning how it was with him, he answered with a characteristic playful pathos .. “The tide is rising,—and I shall soon be in port.” It is said of him that he has no regrets for life, except for the unborn works which he feels stirring impotently in his dying brain—a species of regret which is peculiarly affecting to me, as it must be to all who understand it. Also, it is plain that he has genius greater than anything he has produced——and if this is plain & sad to us, how profoundly melancholy it must be to him. The only comfort is, that the end of development is not here. Sir Robert Peel wrote a long letter to him lately in a tone of respect & consideration which was honorable to the minister, & relieved him from pecuniary anxiety by attaching his pension to the life of his wife rather than to his own[.] [10] Poor Hood! Poor Sydney Smith! How we are losing our Yoricks! ‘All dumb’! ‘All gone’! [11]
You will see the announcement of Mrs Norton’s new poem on the ‘Child of the Islands’, namely our little Prince of Wales, [12] .. in which she exhorts him to all manner of righteousness & justice & proper kingliness. I have read the poem only in extracts as yet,—but the melody of cadence & eloquence of thought & tongue seem very delectable. Tell me what you think of Mrs Butler’s poems, [13] .. which assuredly (at least to my mind’s assurance) have more poetry in them, properly so called, if less of suavity & grace. And tell me if you have been taken & charmed as I have been, by the prose romance of the ‘Improvisatori’ translated from the Danish of Anderson by Mary Howitt. [14] Call it prose—but the poetry of it is true & rare! I have had great delight in it indeed. And now, .. do write soon—& let it be a soon soon. Flush is looking beautiful in amber curls .. only so fat, that he is a sort of large curl himself. He must have a few runs this summer, to justify his muffin & marmalade. Mr Moxon begins to talk of a second edition for my poems, which your kindness will be glad to hear. May God bless you!
I am faithfully & gratefully yours
Elizabeth Barrett B.
Did I ever tell you that my father is no ‘provincial merchant’ (thanks to your courtesy) but a West India proprietor? & one who willingly assisted in his own undoing, by petitioning for emancipation—? [15]
Address: Cornelius Mathews Esqre / Fulton Street / New York / United States.
Docket, on envelope, in Mathews’s hand: E.B.B. / London / Rd 28th May 1845 / Ansr Steamer of / 16th July 1845.
Publication: BBIS-23, pp. 2 and 43 (in part) and Powell, pp. 146–148 (in part).
Manuscript: Yale University.
1. Cf. Psalm 137:1–2.
2. EBB’s review of Mathews’s Poems on Man appeared in Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine for June 1845, pp. 373–375; reprinted in Baylor Browning Interest Series, No. 23, 1973.
3. Donne, “The Baite” (1633), line 2.
4. Presumably the “American criticisms” she mentions in letter 1806.
5. i.e., Dilke, with whom Miss Martineau had carried on a correspondence in the pages of The Athenæum from late 1844 until April 1845, in which she had given a narrative of her personal experiences with mesmerism and healing which Dilke disputed and disclaimed.
6. B.R. Haydon recorded in his journal for the 16th May 1845: “Dined with my dear friend Serjeant Talfourd. He said Wordsworth went to court in Rogers’s clothes, buckles and stockings, and wore Davy’s sword. Moxon had hard work to make the dress fit. It was a squeeze, but by pulling and hauling they got him in. Fancy the high priest of mountain and of flood on his knees in a court, the quiz of courtiers, in a dress that did not belong to him, with a sword that was not his own and a coat which he borrowed” (Pope, III, 305). Wordsworth was born on 7 April 1770, Rogers on 30 July 1763.
7. Lough’s biographers do not give any indication of this criticism of the memorial to Southey. Moreover, they summarise the work as “universally admired,” and cite Mrs. S.C. Hall’s comment as “summing up the general opinion … ‘Lough, by a happy inspiration, has preserved, with singular fidelity, the features and expression of the poet, as he describes him in placid and tranquil sleep’” (John Graham Lough, 1798–1876: A Northumbrian Sculptor, by John Lough and Elizabeth Merson, née Lough, 1987, p. 63).
9. For similar comments by EBB about RB’s future as a poet, see letters 1819, 1877, and 1881.
10. Jane Hood (née Reynolds) was named by her husband to be the beneficiary of the pension bestowed by the government through the good offices of Lord Francis Egerton (1800–57); she, however, only lived until 4 December 1846.
11. Cf. Hamlet, V, 1, 184–192.
13. Fanny Kemble’s works had been reviewed with EBB’s Poems (1844); see letter 1807, note 17.
15. Edward Moulton-Barrett’s position against slavery and the kind treatment of his own slaves is well-documented, but we have been unable to substantiate EBB’s assertion here that her father had been involved in any formal opposition to slavery, or for emancipation.
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