492. RB to André Victor Amédée de Ripert-Monclar [1]
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 3, 107–114.
London
Dec. 5. 1834.
I got your charming letter about half an hour ago, my very dear Friend—by your own confession you have ventured to imagine that I could receive a certain predecessor, therein specified, & yet suffer it to remain unanswered for nearly half a year. I scarcely know whether to sorrow most at its non-appearance (i.e the letter’s) or at your unworthy suspicions of my constancy– Surely your pet Bentham has got something to say on this head in his Deontology or elsewhere [2] —& a dozen or so of pages of his book would be no inadequate infliction—but I have you so perfectly at my power that I cannot resist the pleasure of being magnanimous, overlooking & what not—& therefore content myself with assuring you that I never attributed your own (supposed) silence to neglect, forgetfulness &c tho’ sorely tempted to an occasional fit of incredulity at M. de Monclar’s so engrossing avocations– Where can the ill-starred epistle be?—“a sunbeam that has gone astray.”– [3] Pray did you avail yourself of my Uncle’s assistance, [4] or of the general Post?
—As you value my peace, occurrite morbo [5] —prevent the recurrence of the like mishap—& if by any chance again exposed to the attacks of surmises to my prejudice, do not forget my present leniency—very lucky was it, that the lost treasure did not include certain “croquis,” [6] I still expect, and particularly an anxiously-looked-for lithographed head of Amédée himself– All the saints avert mischance from that precious pacquet! Meanwhile, how can I thank you enough for the goodly sheet I have at length received?—fit forerunner of a host of similar favours–
—I must begin by telling you that we all are well—my father, mother & sister—that they have never ceased wishing all good fortune for, & thinking all kind things of M. de Monclar, & that however charmed they are with the prospect he holds out to them, of a probable visit to London, they are in no fear lest his absence, however prolonged, efface the recollections his company has given birth to—they send, individually, their very best remembrances & await his arrival with delight– In all which, I beg very sincerely, to unite.
—I send the No. of the Metropn containing your article, appended to which, as you will see, is honorable mention of the Author—as M. le Marquis has seen your own paper, you will be so good as to explain that the few alterations in my version were ventured upon, for the purpose of making it more available for the run of Magazine-devourers, & that I cautiously abstained from further liberties with the original– [7] I shall be glad to see the other works you mention, & believe that my Uncle will be pleased to forward them.
—The “Ministerial change” [8] is not so sad a matter for the Radicals as you take it to be—it is agreed on all hands that the Duke can only hope to stand by submitting to become their mouth-piece—& if he can resolve to throw all considerations of consistency, principle &c fairly overboard, there will be little objection to the services of an energetic subject like his grace, from a party, whom the freaks of the Ex-Chancellor, &c &c have gone far to cure of any inordinate favouritism for individuals for the future– In that case, he may bring forward a Church-Reform [9] —& so set the Bishops, his Oxford admirers, & so forth, against him—an Irish ditto—which will not better the case—but it is no use to go on– And the effect will be that the Tories, already low enough, will be regularly in the mud—broken in themselves as unsupported by the people—who need be immaculate & scrupulous while the Coryphæus [10] of Toryism chops & changes? accordingly “sauve qui peut” [11] &c after the fashion of rats forsaking a falling house—& that the Duke, with his peculiar mental constitution shall successfully enter into the spirit of certain laws enacted “since his time,” [12] & administrate them judiciously—is to be prayed for, rather than expected with any very sanguine anticipations– As to government by Brute force, “in the teeth of the people” &c ’tis not even laughable– So well does the rich Radical know that he has an overwhelming Majority in the House—& the poor one, that the Union of which he is a member, musters so many thousand strong, & the Radical of the middling classes, that “passive resistance” is as easy in practice as principle—therefore everybody is quiet, & collected & composed—blustering is only good when nothing better can be had, & they can have what they choose. If a man, your equal, insults you in the world, you must be angry—’tis your only method [of] obtaining redress—but nobody gets in a passion with his valet, seeing that a minute’s warning discharges him from his service– The Duke is the Radical’s valet, or what do the Tories mean by calling the Reform Bill the thorough ruin of the constitution—the antagonist of the Aristocratical principle– In the mean time, Addresses pour in, the Metropolitan Members protest, the newspapers have a vast deal to say, & simple folks wonder at Sir Robt Peel’s accumulation of business at Italy & elsewhere .. as if the Duke could feel the pulse of the Country in less time!—it appears that the Duke’s bill for doctoring the church was submitted some few days since to the worthies at the Duke’s own dear Oxford & that the Duke & his bill were lavishly favoured with the hard words which at all times illustrate Mother Church’s arguments when a little bit flurried.
Paris, alas, I have no hope of seeing for a time—its bridges, or its Monclar; for even Hugo must step aside in this case, however glad I shall be to see his book– I admire his Lyrics exceedingly [13] —by the bye, has he been reading of late to get a new stock of quotations? I recollect one instance of his being so hard pressed in one of the “Feuilles d’Automne” as to prefix to it the striking & novel colloquialism “Ben viage”—by which the Spaniards, it seems, express “Bon voyage,” but much more happily of course– I should mention that the Author’s name is carefully subjoined– [14] In another, in which M. Hugo, after describing a girl as so pretty as to make him wonder at God’s bad taste in not giving “his sceptre for a glance of her eyes” .. rather needlessly assures us “C’est une ame charmante”—which Diderot said first of the French, it seems– [15] This is a “pendant” [16] to our own Author who wrote “As Shakespeare has it, kiss me Doll” [17] —but one N/Dame de Paris, one Bilogie like le Roi s’amuse & Lucrèce Borgia! [18]
I heard of poor Drouineau’s case in the Papers. I have read none of his verses, but was rather pleased with some parts of a novel of his, called Resignée– The circumstance was su°ciently vexatious, tho’ I do not see anything overpowering in Delavigne’s talent, judging from the specimens I have seen—not very numerous to be sure—but it is mortifying to be forestalled in a work of the kind: [19] —unlucky fellow (if his intentions had been divulged) to have had no Amédée for his confident [sic] —for—lo .... Paracelsus is done! exegi monumentum [20] —good or ill, it is done. I have worked incessantly at it—not at the thing itself, that is, but at the big books of the great man & his friends, all a terrible bookmaking set; done—3000 verses in 3 months! but it has cost me some thought & more research—my dear Amédée does not forget that his name is to honour the title-page? [21] I shall publish it as soon as some few scenes, rather rough at present, get their final burnishing– I purposely forbear to enter into detail, because with the book I shall give a preface & notes– As for Sordello, I this day began to look over my labours of the summer. I had some idea of sending them both into the world together, but do not expect to be able to lick the latter into shape before a month or two– I have changed my conception, & ’tis as bad as beginning all over again–
—And “quelque chose qui va me faire plaisir” [22] ––what, where, when, & how? I await further information with great impatience—you are modest, to grant it no other praise, for what work of yours would not give me pleasure?
—If my poor Pauline has really met with such friends to her pale face & slight shadowy figure, she need not be so tremblingly alive to her imperfections—& I shall love her for the kind acquaintances she has procured me— I shall be very proud to enroll my name on the list of members of “l’institut Historique,” [23] already dignified by the names of my introducers, & on the arrival of the “Diplôme” shall trouble my dear Amedée to express my sincere acknowledgements to the Society, “en attendant” [24] the production of works more worthy of their attention & patronage[.]
—The plan, of which you have made me partially a depositary, must interest me since it is likely to be attended with such advantageous results as far as regards yourself– I am so little acquainted with its details at present, that I must wait ’till the arrival of your Prospectus, gives me some clue to the way I best may serve you– I need not, I hope, repeat that you have only to intimate the way, & the will shall not be wanting on my part– I shall expect a renewal of the matter in your next letters– And now, I believe the question you somewhere propose “Pourrez[-]vous me lire?” [25] is very unnecessary—for I have omitted, as I think, none of your paragraphs, in my rambling despatch, and am at full liberty to chat to the extent allowed by this portentous sheet– I need hardly observe that Regent St is the Valley of the Shadow &c [26] & that Walworth [27] is marvellous gloomy– I look wishfully at the little street, hard by the Colonnade of the one, & the lengthy dreariness of the stretch of the other, & could be very sympathetic & all that, about the Days that are gone, were it not sufficiently absurd to indulge in any such considerations– Why, dear Amédée, you are here to all intents and purposes—not merely in the shape of the letter I am now commenting on, but in the influence you have left & the impulse you have given birth to—we must all labour & fag in this odd life of ours, altho’ I, for one, am occasionally tempted to leave off work & laugh my fill—& what can so effectually set us cheerfully to our tasks, or what we incline to consider as such, as a regular, indefatigable, enterpriser like yourself? So I find it—& so I avail myself of it. I lead no idle life I assure you, nor, in general, a dull one—but you saw me in a rather disadvantageous light—one of my fits of relaxation subsequent to effort & preliminary to its renewal– I may here remark, that any production of my mind, is invariably followed by an after-birth—a very abortion—whose delivery I accelerate & in whose perishing (of which I take good care) I rejoice– After Paracelsus, will come (to the world) Sordello—but I calculate on some little monster’s intervention––& speedy disappearing– While on the subject of abortions let me observe, that your Convulsive School at Paris seems to be pretty nearly “done up”—Balzac, Sue &c. Our Journals assure us that Horrors are at a discount, & Puppyism “no go” [28] —that you may see, here a dramatist ey[e]ing longingly the Slaughter-house & La Morgue, his quondam Academus [29] —& here a sharp youth heaving a sigh as he passes the Upholsterers Shops .. the said youth having written a smart article for the Livre des 101, [30] in the style of a Garçon-ebeniste [31] —good furniture-descriptive writing—the hero of which was only introduced for the purpose of giving an account of the gueridons d’acajou, consolés d’ébène, vases de porphyre [32] &c &c with which he was surrounded.—and yet Madame Dudevant has accomplished something it seems—a certain “Jacques” much praised here– I read an analysis of her’s of the mental constitution of a gambler, from Lélia [33] —which I am sure will find no counterpart in the forthcoming “Etudes Psychiques” [34] —as a labourer in which department, she is what Shakespeare calls “sand-blind, high gravel blind” [35] ––a much truer exposition may be found in “The young Duke” by young D’Israeli [36] —a curious individual is that same D’Israeli—he is, or perhaps, was—utterly eaten up by affectation—&, as in his most studied labours, the said affectation will have its way & show its effects, so in the above-mentioned novel, constructed from the most trashy materials possible, the real “vivida vis” [37] which is in him, has occasionally revealed itself gloriously amid rubbish about the most expedient cut for a “pantalon” or the twist for an opera hat—he has lately taken to poetry [38] —give himself up, he cannot, while button-holes may be amended & the just dimensions of a seal-ring set forth–
—And when do we two undertake the stroll over Egypt, that Dumas it appears is going to enjoy? [39] Ever or never? over England & Scotland then? When ever you please, & at all hasards– I attributed your omitting to write, to business in the South, or even in Spain—another of my loves;—this England of ours is a glorious place after all, with its green, so green lanes & Dells & woods & waters—& beautiful girls & gallant fellows & grand old Poets,—& just now, ’tis wonderful how soft the wind is & how green the grass & how mild the air—but—but—one satiation of bright weather, like wine, & bright wine like woman’s eye’s & woman’s eyes like _____’s! Since I last saw you—(last alas)—I have learned Spanish enough [to] be able to read “the majestic Tongue which Calderon along the desert flung!–” [40] I am more & more possessed by a perfect antipathy for the North & its sights & sounds—which is strange truly, but real– I will not learn German for instance—& can’t help learning Spanish!––
You must have heard something about Bulwer’s “Pompeii” [41] —he has, (Bulwer not Pompeii), written a pamphlet against the Duke, & very clever it is—it has reached a sixth or seventh edition already—one per diem about. [42] O you need not fear for us!
Dec 7th/ The above was written two nights ago—a thought occurs & a very important one. Ought I to have written in French?– My slipshod sentences—(which I dare not trust myself with revising) would be very little hurt by their assuming a foreign garb—but I am almost sure that you know enough of English to be able to make out my meaning—& besides it would be bad policy to let you forget the language in which those works will be written which will be honoured by your perusal—so my dear Amédée must rub up his grammar & follow my musa pedestris [43] in all her creepings & crawlings. Will you not, my dear Friend! So, to use an established Irish figure of speech—(or rather Hellenic—for you can not forget Clytemnestra in Æschylus desires Cassandra, in case she understands not her (Clytemnestra’s) language, to signify as much by signs) [44] —if you understand nothing else, understand this—that I am your’s very affectionately—that I shall expect a huge letter as soon as possible—that I shall not rest until the said letter arrives & that I shall expect a very handsome apology in the same for the doubts cast on my sincerity– Understand & obey all these behests, dear Amédée, & you will gratify me marvellously– My Father & Mother with my Sister, are urgent in their kind wishes in your behalf—you are prodigiously deep in their good graces. I have not, unfortunately the honour to know the parents of M de Monclar, & so avail myself of a variety of channels for relieving the affection he has inspired in me; but, on the strength of being a humble admirer & translator of the works of the Marquis his Uncle, I may venture to pay my sincere respects to him, thro’ his accomplished nephew.
—Adieu, my very esteemed friend & in many respects colleague. You have here a loose & wandering epistle after your heart’s content, but no paragraph could be so well turned as to express perfectly how much I love you, long to see you & look forward to a letter from you– Tell me if you understand me, & tell me much about yourself– We shall have matter to talk about, if the Duke keep in, or if Lord Durham [45] oust (a vulgar word—I shall corrupt your English) the great Tory—my own full belief is that in less than six months Durham will be πρ~αγος εν πρυμνῃ πολεως; βλεφαρα μη κοιμων ὑπνω [46] I need not add– Remember the lithographs, the portrait, the “croquis” (souvenirs de danseuses &c) the all & everything– “The Diplôme” (!!) cela va sans dire– [47]
Your’s ever–
Robert Browning–
(I have put both the letters in the Post, as requested.)
Address, on integral page: (aux soins de Mr Browning.) / À Monsieur / M. le Comte de Ripert-Monclar / Ancien Magistrat, etc etc etc / No 12, Rue de Larochefoucauld (Chaussée d’Antin) / à Paris.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Yale University.
1. For details of RB’s meeting and friendship with Monclar, see pp. 321-322.
2. Jeremy Bentham’s Deontology; or, The Science of Morality, ed. John Bowring (2 vols., 1834) lists 14 qualities “of which Hume says nobody can for a moment refuse them the tribute of praise and approbation” (I, 247–248). Constancy is one of these virtues.
3. Cf. Byron, The Prisoner of Chillon (1816), II, 5.
4. William Shergold Browning (1797–1874) was the son of RB’s grandfather by his second wife and therefore was RB’s half-uncle. He lived in Paris, and it was he who gave Monclar a letter of introduction to Reuben Browning, his brother in London (see SD776).
5. “Venienti occurrite morbo” (“meet the disease at its first stage”), Persius (A.D. 34–62), Satires, III, 64.
6. “Sketches; outlines.”
7. The Metropolitan Magazine for October 1834, under “Notices of New Works,” contained a review of Essai sur l’Origine de l’Ecriture, sur son introduction dans la Grèce, et son usage jusqu’au tems [sic] d’Homère, “Communicated by Comte A. de Ripert Monclar, Ancien Magistrat, &c.” As RB indicates, he had edited (and probably translated) Monclar’s paper. Monclar’s manuscript journal, “Voyage à Londres, 1834” (see SD773), indicates that The Monthly Repository had been the preferred choice. The work reviewed was by Monclar’s uncle, Agricole Joseph François Xavier Pierre Esprit Simon Paul Antoine, Marquis de Fortia d’Urban (1756–1843). After having served as an officer in the King’s Regiment, Fortia d’Urban moved to Rome and devoted himself entirely to the study of mathematics, history, antiquity, geography, etc. His published works amounted to some 100 volumes.
8. In November, William IV had dismissed Melbourne’s administration, and had sent for the Duke of Wellington, who declined to undertake to form a ministry, and had advised the King to summon Robert Peel (1788–1850) back from Rome, where he was on vacation. Pending his return, Wellington took temporary charge of the government. Peel arrived in London on 9 December, and Wellington became Foreign Secretary in his administration.
9. The question of tithes, church rates, and the legal position of Catholics and Dissenters had been the subject of much debate. One of the first acts of the new administration was the appointment of a commission to enquire into the state of the Church.
10. The leader and speaker of the chorus in Greek drama.
11. “Save himself who can.”
12. Wellington had been Prime Minister, 1828–30.
13. Victor Hugo (1802–85) had published Odes et Ballades in 1826 and Feuilles d’Automne in 1831. The book RB mentions was probably Hugo’s Angelo, published in 1835.
14. No. XXVIII of the Feuilles d’Automne is prefixed by “Buen viage?” The interrogative form gives it the sense of “Had a good trip?” The author is given as Goya.
15. Hugo used the phrase by Denis Diderot (1713–84) at the head of his poem “A une Femme” (XXII in Feuilles d’Automne). “C’est une âme charmante” translates as “This is a delightful soul.”
16. “Counterpart.”
17. II Henry IV, II, 4, 262.
18. These three works were produced in 1831, 1832 and 1833 respectively. “Bilogie” derives from the Latin “bis” (“in two ways”), and denotes a work containing two quite distinct parts.
19. Gustave Drouineau (1800–78), who had given up law in favour of literature, had written a play, Don Juan d’Autriche, for the Théâtre-Français. The management received it with acclamation and compliments to the playwright, and predicted a great success, but time passed without its being performed. In 1834, the theatre received from Casimir Delavigne (1793–1843) a play having the same title. It was given preference over Drouineau’s work, which caused him to lose his mind; he was confined to an asylum in 1835 and lingered on in madness until his death 43 years later.
Drouineau’s novel Resignée had been published in 1832.
20. “I have raised a monument” (Horace, Odes, III, 30, 1).
21. Monclar is believed to have proposed Paracelsus as a subject (see Orr, p. 67).
22. “Something that will give me pleasure.”
23. L’Institut Historique was founded in 1833 by Joseph Michaud for the study of the historical aspects of all relevant subjects, such as geography, music, art, literature, linguistics, archaeology, drama, medicine, etc. In 1873, it became the Société des Études Historiques. The first list of members, dated 31 December 1834, included RB and Monclar (Journal de l’Institut Historique, 1, Paris, 1834).
24. “While waiting for.”
25. “Will you be able to read me?”
26. Psalms, 23:4.
27. Walworth, not far from RB’s Camberwell home, was the site of the Congregational Church in which RB had been baptized, despite the numerous churches less distant.
28. Honoré de Balzac (1799–1850), author of La Comédie Humaine, etc.; Eugène Sue (1804–57) wrote Le Juif Errant, etc.; “puppyism” connotes impertinent conceit, affectation (OED).
29. The Athenian who told Castor and Pollux where Theseus had concealed their sister Helen.
30. Paris, ou Le Livre des Cent-et-un.
31. “Apprentice cabinet-maker.”
32. “Round mahogany tables, ebony console-tables, porphyry vases.”
33. Amantine Lucile Aurore Dudevant (née Dupin, 1804–76), better known by her pseudonym George Sand, had just published Jacques. Lélia had appeared in 1833; chapter VIII tells of Trenmor, who stole to support his gambling habit and had served five years at hard labour in prison.
34. We have been unable to trace this. It seems likely that RB intended a reference to Etudes philosophiques, a collection announced by Balzac early in 1834 and actually published on 6 December. Balzac’s collection included a reissue of his La Peau de Chagrin (1831), which also dealt with the fate of a gambler. RB’s earlier comments about “a sharp youth” and the furniture with which he was surrounded paraphrase a passage in chapter 1 of Balzac’s book.
35. The Merchant of Venice, II, 2, 36–37.
36. Benjamin Disraeli (1804–81), not yet a Member of Parliament, had published The Young Duke in 1831. The passage mentioned by RB occurs in bk. IV, ch. VI.
37. “Lively force” (Lucretius, De Rerum Natura, I, 72).
38. The Rise of Iskander (1833) and The Revolutionary Epick (1834).
39. Dumas did not go to Egypt. In 1839 “an astonished world read a wonderful account of a ‘Fortnight in Sinai’ (Quinze Jours au Sinai), being an authentic narrative of a recent expedition made by Baron Taylor and a scientific party, of which Dumas was not a member. This accident did not prevent him from writing … two most interesting and accurate volumes in which, as critics observed, the writer, not being able to say anything about himself, said for once a good deal about the country” (Alexandre Dumas (père) His Life and Works, Arthur F. Davidson, 1902, p. 210).
40. Shelley’s “Letter to Maria Gisborne” (1820), lines 180–181. Pedro Calderón de la Barca y Henao (1600–81) was the Spanish dramatist, whose plays contained the recurrent theme of a rigid code of honour.
41. The Last Days of Pompeii (1835).
42. A Letter to a Late Cabinet Minister on the Present Crisis (1834). The British Library catalogue lists 19 editions by the end of 1834.
43. “Prosaic Muse” (Horace, Satires, II, 6, 17).
44. Agamemnon, lines 1055–61.
45. John George Lambton, 1st Earl of Durham (1792–1840), was the leader of a significant section of the Whig party; an attempt was made to promote the election to Parliament of candidates favouring his leadership of the party. This failed, and Durham was appointed Ambassador to St. Petersburg in 1835.
46. “Guiding the helm upon the stern, his eyes not closed in slumber” (Æschylus, Septem Contra Thebas, lines 2–3).
47. “That goes without saying.”
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