5040. RB to William Wetmore Story & Emelyn Story
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 30, 55–59.
1. Chichester Road, Upper Westbourne Terrace.
March 19. ’62.
Dearest Friends–
Three letters, from one or another of you! & the pleasure they gave me, I can’t,—honestly can’t tell you: will it be told you in any degree by the fact that I sit down at once to obey the desire in the last (that carried by Miss Gaskell) [1] “that I should write just a word at once”—here is the word, never minding the injustice it does the many things calling for many words: but my time is almost wholly taken up—first by work of a morning then by going out of evenings—did you not bid me do that too? I ought to be able to return your news by mine, & state particularly who was where, as you do so pleasantly: but it really goes out of my head the next morning: moreover, what a difference between your Roman Names and such as I might remember? I will remember some things however; as first, that I saw Miss Weston [2] lately: that Miss Dempster wrote & appointed a day to be seen at Reeves’—speaking delightedly of a letter from you: I met her sister too—the Brother [3] is travelling in Spain: she looked better and in spirits. I dined two days ago at Mrs Marshall’s father’s, Ld Monteagle, [4] —she was well,—would perhaps come to town later: Aubrey de Vere [5] is in Athens or thereabout– I daresay Rome will have, as usual, “all roads lead to it:”—tonight I dine with Emerson Tennent [6] —but I can’t go on with the week’s work; enough is said to show you that I try and see old friends—when my true treat would be an evening over the pile of unread books,—or a morning with the old coat & wet clay, oh, the days! Well,—Rossetti has had a miserable loss of his wife, a month ago—she took an overdose of laudanum one evening—they had dined out, returned early, & he had left her for his class at the Working-Men’s Institution [7] —coming back he found her in a stertorous unnatural sleep, & presently found an empty bottle—got assistance, but in vain. He is in trouble indeed, poor, kind fellow.
I met Dickens at dinner the other day—looking very well & young. Thackeray has just resigned the Editorship of the Cornhill. [8] Why should I not trust to you, what I know you will keep to yourselves—but what will certainly amuse you, as nothing else I could write is like to do? What good in our loving each other unless I do such a thing? So, O Story, O Emelyn (dare I say, for the solemnity’s sake) and O Edie—the Editorship has, under the circumstances &c &c been offered to—me! I really take it as a compliment because I am, by your indulgence, a bit of a poet, if you like—but a man of the world and able editor, hardly! They count on my attracting writers,—I who could never muster English readers enough to pay for salt & bread! My first answer was prompt enough—that my life was done for & settled, that I could not change it & would not—but the conveyer of the message bade me consider, in a flattering way & I took the week to do so accordingly: I can’t be sure how I shall answer,—that’s the end: for I have rather an impulse—first to get the salary, which Pen might find something to do with,—next to figure as a man actually capable of choosing better articles from the quantity always on hand than have illustrated the Cornhill,—and last, to try what the business is like. It requires merely editing—no line of my own writing—(that would be another matter.) On the other hand, the little to do ought to be honestly done, might take more of my time than I choose to part with,—and what do I want with more money? I shall diplomatize accordingly—write for a full statement of what I am expected to do, if I accept, and what, and for how long, I am to receive in that case—one farthing less than Thackeray got, [9] apart from the price of his substantive articles I shall not take, of course: and if I don’t like the terms, the publishers have my bow, I have my little piece of satisfied conceit, and you have what is amusing you dear three, I engage!
Seriously, now that I care not one whit about what I never cared for too much, people are getting goodnatured to my poems—there’s printing a book of “Selections from RB” [10] —(SCULPTOR [11] & poet) which is to popularize my old things: & so & so means to review it, and somebody or other always was looking out for such an occasion, and what’s his name always said he admired me, only he didn’t say it though he said something else every week of his life in some Journal. The breath of Man! Now, that reminds me– I was invited to dine last night with General Lodwick [12] to meet a “great genius just from Rome, of whom Gibson thought wondrously,”—in short, Æsi and her mother! [13] I was previously engaged, but shall call this afternoon, if I can, & hear how the performance prospered.
I went to Paris three weeks ago (accompanied by Pen) saw my father to heart’s content (in his eightieth year, perfectly well in body & mind & strong as thirty years ago)—saw no one else but Made Du Quaire, & came back on the eighth day. I wish the absence from London could be to-morrow: the little book [14] is to be published—& if books were to be distinguished as formerly by a great red edging, this ought to have something of the kind round it without help from the printer. Reviewers will have my heart in their rough hands for the next month or two: but I am not very formidable—witness Mr Thornton Hunt who has not printed the letter of his father[’]s which I meant to give him—but, in place of it, without a word to me (as he confesses in his preface) [h]as printed our letter to his father! [15] He knew I should have refused leave to print such a thing in the most energetic terms possible—so he takes leave. It is hardly worth noticing further, that he prints my writing, which he can’t read, so as to make it pure nonsense in parts—as he also confesses in his preface. He has printed William’s letter to him as well as the letter of his father—but there was reason for that, [16] in the nature of the communication. I ought to be angry, but can’t– I shall simply, when quite sure of myself, write & say what I think of his proceeding, & then propose to give his father’s letter in exchange for the one actually printed,—which he shall cancel. There’s nothing in my letter I care about except the indecent nature of the exposure—it’s just as if, being at my toilette, some clownish person chose to throw the bed-room door wide: (there’s enough of it[)]. [17] Now, you, dearest friends, if you don’t keep your word, what shall I say or do? Come and let me see you. I rejoice in hearing that the Statues are sent off: [18] I speak about them before they arrive, not to have my report lose all value in their presence. All happiness to them & to you. Of friends,—I rejoice heartily in the recovery of Lady W. [19] & will write a word to her, since you encourage me,—I had indeed thought of doing so. Lady Charlotte Locker & her kind husband [20] called at Paris on my Sister,—give them my truest regard: tell her, I have something for her when I can see her—also, for Lady Augusta; [21] but who can reach her now? All remembrances, & all they imply, to the Perkins & the Bruens:—I wish dear Mrs Bruen had helped me earlier with her discoveries of character,—but never mind. Mrs Procter was told by a believing friend—“that Mr Home particularly felt the annoyance of being perpetually confounded with the Mr. Hume Mr B. insulted [22] & Mr Trollope abused [23] —it was quite another man!”– Eh, my friends? Thank the dear Abbé for his loving word to Pen: Pen will answer it presently, & I will write to you again: but give me another drink of the Roman air when you can to send me rejoicing thro’ the grey drear lengths of days here! For I am grateful whatever poor creature I be in all else—&
ever your affectionate
RB
Pen’s dearest love to Edie & the Boys & you both– He is quite well. I don’t refer to news of a certain sort,—gladly recd however. I had rd what you sent, but it was better to see the very things.
Publication: BAF, pp. 99–105.
Manuscript: Keats-Shelley Memorial Association.
1. Marianne Gaskell (1834–1920), as indicated in a letter from W.W. Story to C.E. Norton (10 February 1862, ms at Harvard).
2. Presumably Caroline Weston (1808–82), to whom RB presented a copy of Last Poems, inscribed: “To Caroline Weston—most affectionately—from RB. London, April 5. 1862” (see Reconstruction, C61).
3. George Hawkins Dempster (1831–75) and one of three sisters: Katherine Hawkins Dempster (afterwards Metcalfe, 1831–1911), Helen Hawkins Dempster (1838–1918), and Gertrude Jemima Hawkins Dempster (1839–1870).
4. Thomas Spring Rice (1790–1866), 1st Baron Monteagle of Brandon, is listed in RB’s second address book (AB-5) at 7 Park Street, Westminster. Mary Alicia Pery Marshall (née Spring Rice, 1812–75), was his eldest daughter (see letter 4290, note 11).
5. Aubrey Thomas de Vere (1814–1902), son of Lord Monteagle’s sister, Mary de Vere (née Rice, 1788–1856).
6. James Emerson Tennent (1804–69); see letter 2748, note 23. He is listed in the Brownings’ address book of this period (AB-4) at 66 Warwick Square.
8. Thackeray resigned the editorship of The Cornhill Magazine on 6 March 1862 in a letter to the magazine’s publisher, George Murray Smith (1824–1901); see The Private Papers of William Makepeace Thackeray, ed. Gordon N. Ray, Cambridge, Mass., 1945–46, 4, 257. Thackeray was succeeded as editor by George Henry Lewes (1817–78).
10. Selections from the Poetical Works of Robert Browning (1863), silently edited by John Forster and Bryan Waller Procter, was issued by Chapman and Hall on 20 December 1862.
11. “Sculptor” is written in large block letters.
12. Peter Lodwick (1784–1873); see letter 3286, note 7.
13. Martha Rebecca Ironside (née Redman, 1814–69) and her daughter, Adelaide Eliza Scott Ironside (1831–67), Australian artist, who was known by her initials as “AESI” (see letter 3755, note 13).
14. Last Poems, issued the following day.
16. These two letters appeared in The Correspondence of Leigh Hunt (2 vols., 1862), II, 271–275.
17. The parenthetical phrase is interpolated above the following words which RB crossed out: “poor Hunt wrote for.”
18. “Cleopatra” and “The Libyan Sibyl.”
19. Lady William Russell.
20. Frederick Locker (1821–95) and his wife, Lady Charlotte (née Bruce, 1817–72); see letter 3041, note 6.
21. Lady Augusta Bruce (1822–76); see letter 3038, note 11. RB’s remark about reaching her may refer to her position as lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria, who had been in secluded mourning since the death of her husband, Prince Albert, on 14 December.
22. A reference to the confrontation between RB and Daniel Dunglas Home (see letter 3606, note 2) that occurred not long after the famous séance at Ealing on 23 July 1855 (see also letters 3587 and 3605).
23. We have been unable to trace any abuse directed at Home from either Anthony Trollope or Thomas Adolphus Trollope during or prior to this period. In What I Remember (1887), I, 374–383, T.A. Trollope recorded his interactions with the medium, concluding that he was left with a “disagreeable” impression of “doubt and perplexity” (p. 282).
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