4785. John Ruskin to EBB
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 28, 232–233.
Denmark Hill
25th November 60
Dear Mrs Browning
Not two years: but two days, this time, and those already too long to have delayed my thanks for your comforting letter [1] —chiefly, to me, comforting in its own cheerfulness, and happy account of your hopes for Italy. Too sanguine as I think: my word “idleness” referring not to immediate work done, but to the habit of national life. Not—for yet half a century, as I suppose to be cured. —Nay, already it begins to show; at least by the accounts we have here—quite as much dark as bright. And indeed, it will be strange to me if the just cause of the Italians is allowed by Heaven to prosper, in spite of the crimes, and withdrawal of aid, among & by the nations who should have helped her. I believe the work will not, cannot be done; and that we, & Prussia; chiefly—shall be punished hereafter for having hindered it. If the Italians had any real life in them, Gaeta already had been drawn into the sea with ropes, as Hushai said to Absalom. [2] But—It is not life. It is only galvanism—or at least—the first staggering motion of a man blind & bound for half his life—at first loosening & light. I tremble every paper I open—but am prepared for the worst: perhaps my present despondency is because I have thoroughly anticipated all the probable worsts: I think of Venice as utterly destroyed—with Verona; and with all the pictures in them, which to me, means nearly half the pictures in the world– I think of Italy in a state of utter anarchy & helplessness—and Russia & England fighting for—or dividing her spoil—as chance may rule it.
Supposing all were true which you say so kindly about what I have been able myself to do, you must consider how empty it all looks—in the face of these things: nay, as regards itself it is in its outcome—useless. I have got people to look a little at 13th centy Gothic—just in time to see it wholly destroyed—(every cathedral of importance is already destroyed by restoration) and have made them think about Turner only when he has been ten years dead, and when all his greatest works without exception are more or less in a state of decay—and all the loveliest of them—utterly and for ever destroyed. —What I am now to do, I know not. I am divided in thought between many things—and the strength I have to spend on any, seems to me nothing. I find the study of the figure—in art, and of human interests in literature wholly incompatible with the pursuit of landscape. Natural history will go with landscape: but men are too beautiful and too wicked;—the moment I begin to draw them at all intelligently, I care for nothing else; a girl[’]s hair and lips are lovelier than all clouds; a man[’]s forehead grander than all rocks– If I begin to think & write about the creatures, I get enraged & miserable– If I don’t, I feel like a baby—or a brute–
I never shall draw thoroughly well, nor write thoroughly well– I believe Natural History would be the best thing for me: but I neither like to give up my twenty years[’] cherished plans about Turner on the one side—nor to shrink behind the hedges from the battle of life on the other. The strange thing of all is that whenever I work selfishly—buy pictures that I like—stay in places that I like—study what I like, & so on– I am happy & well, but when I deny myself, & give all my money away, and work at what seems useful—I get miserable & unwell: The things I most regret in all my past life are great pieces of virtuous and quite heroical self-denial; which have issued in all kinds of catastrophe & disappointment—instead of victory. Everything that has turned out well, I’ve done merely to please myself—and it upsets all one’s moral principles so. Mine are going I don’t know where.
I hope the book will get to you safely [3] —it is very little for the work it cost me– Half the plates failed & had to be cancelled.
I’m so glad—and so is my mother—to hear that Penini has no application—does in any wise—in short—admit human imperfection. We were afraid he would get ill & weak from his sensibility, the poems frightened us. I am so glad also to hear that Mr Browning has been at work. So glad of all that you are, and have done, & said—and are doing & saying.
Ever yours & his in all affection
J Ruskin
Publication: Cook, pp. 349–351.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. This letter has not surfaced.
2. Cf. II Samuel 17:13.
3. Modern Painters (see letter 4774, note 3).
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