4322. John Ruskin to EBB & RB
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 26, 34–36.
[London]
15th January. 1859.
Dear Mr & Mrs Browning
It is very, very good of you to write to me, [1] and to love me a little still—indeed I did not pass through Paris when you were there: you were at Havre—and when I get to Paris on my road home, a day more or less makes a great difference to those who are waiting for me, after a four months absence. I am much helped by all you say in your letters—being apt—in spite of all my certainty of being right in the main, to be seized with great fits of vexation:—for the truth is that my own proper business is not that of writing;—I am never happy as I write: never want to utter for my own delight—as you singers do—(with all your pretences to benevolence and all that—you know you like singing just as well as the nightingales)– But I’m truly benevolent, miserably benevolent. For my own pleasure, I should be collecting stones & mosses, drying & ticketing them—reading scientific books—walking all day long in the summer:—going to plays and what not—in winter—never writing nor saying a word—rejoicing tranquilly—or intensely—in pictures—in music—in pleasant faces—in kind friends. But now—about me .. there is this terrific absurdity and wrong going on. People kill my Turner with abuse of him—make rifle targets of my Paul Veroneses—make themselves—and me unendurably wretched by all sorts of ridiculous doings—won’t let me be quiet– I live the life of an old lady in a housefull of wicked children—can do nothing but cry out—they won’t leave me to my knitting needles a moment: And this working in a way contrary to one’s whole nature tells upon one at last—people never were mean’t to do it. They were mean’t to be able to give quiet pieces of advice, to each other and show—without any advice—how things should be done properly—(such as they had gifts & liking for.) But people were never mean’t to be always howling and bawling the right road to a generation of drunken cabmen—their heads up through the trap door of the Hansom—faces all over mud—no right road to be got gone upon after all—nothing but a drunken effort at turning—ending in ditch. I hope to get just one more howl executed [2] —from which I hope great effects—upon the Moon—and then—see if I don’t take to Kennel and Straw, comfortably.
There was another thing in your letters—comforting to me—your delightful want of patriotism:—loving Italy so much:—for I sometimes think I am going quite wrong when I don’t feel happy in coming home. I have a right to love Italy more now—since it has made Mrs Browning so much stronger. —Poor Italy. There won’t be much of her left to love, I’m afraid, soon.
I’m so glad to hear of new edition of Aurora. Not that I wanted it mended. —I did’nt think it had anything in it that could be bettered:– I’m afraid you (Mrs Browning) have been doing mischief. —Why did you, (Robert.) let her? Why have’nt you, (Elizabeth) more faith in yourself—and in the first setting of the first thought?– Don’t you (Robert) know that repentirs [3] in pictures are wrong always—and I believe they are in verses:– Have you been getting any good one’s lately? pictures, I mean– Do pray look out—if there are any ragged fragments of Paul Veronese about– I’ve been working at him lately and find he’s just as deep as the other two,—and now—between Titian & Tintoret [4] and him—I never know which is noblest or dearest. I’ve had to give up all the old monkish pictures—for their sakes.
I’m still unable to write letters—with any good in them. Mere complaints which I’ve no business to send: My kind regards to Miss Heaton please when you see her & tell her I like Mr Talfourd’s drawings: [5] and am enjoying her Turners very much, & am very grateful for having them. I’ve given up counting days, or years:—but always I wish you both all that days or years can bring, & can’t take away—and am ever
Yours gratefully and affectionately
J Ruskin.
There now—I had nearly missed just the main thing in my letter– My mother was so grateful to you for the account of Penini. And I rejoice with you– Think of this as a woman’s postscript. I’m so glad he is going on quietly—not too wonderful.
Address, on integral page: Mrs Browning / 43. Bocca di Leone, / Rome.
Publication: Cook, pp. 302–304.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
2. Presumably, Ruskin refers to his Modern Painters, Vol. V (1860).
3. “Regrets.”
4. The works of Titian (ca. 1487–1576) and Tintoretto (1518–94), along with those of Paolo Veronese (1578–88), were discussed at length in Modern Painters, Vol. V.
5. Field Talfourd (1809–74), son of Edward Talfourd (1765–1833), a Reading brewer, and his wife, Ann (née Noon, 1773–1858), and younger brother of RB’s late friend Thomas Noon Talfourd (1795–54). Ellen Heaton had evidently asked Ruskin for an opinion of the artist’s work in anticipation of commissioning him to draw EBB’s portrait (see letter 4324, note 9).
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