July 13

July 13, 1846 Miss Barrett responds to Browning's distress over criticism of him and his prospects in life:

"I must write .. even if you come tomorrow. Dearest, if I told you all that nonsense on saturday, it was for the sake of telling you all & of hearing you say “What nonsense” afterwards. I never began by disguising anything from you .. did I? I always wished you to see how the arrows would strike out at us from that bush & this bush. At us. For, granting that you seriously thought it possible for such motives to divide me from you, … ah, granting it, .. & YOU MAY WELL ASK MY PARDON!——

The world! the world could as soon catch me with a ‘line’ so baited, as you could catch a trout with a silver sixpence at the end of a string. Not only do I think with you entirely on that subject, but I always thought like you .. Always I have hated all their worldly systems, & not merely now, & since I have loved you. With a hundred a year between us, I would have married you, if you had not been afraid– And so, think whether directly or ‘indirectly’ I am likely to be frightened into the breach of an engagement by what I repeated to you or by what is like unto it. No—my weaknesses are of a different class altogether."

Browning is sensitive about his lack of money and if you follow his correspondence to the end of his life you will find that he remains sensitive and careful about money, even after he is very comfortable in life.

"Do you understand?

But you do not, how you pained me when you said that. Ah—I thought I saw you gone .. “so far, so far”, as you said, .. & myself left–

Yet I should deserve it of course, if I were to give you up for the sake of that! .. or for any other motive, .. except your advantage .. your own. I should deserve everything in such a case, but should feel nothing .. not even my punishment.– Could I?—being without a heart?

Ah—after all my mistrust, did I ever mistrust you SO? I have doubted your power to love me as you believed you loved me, perhaps—but your will to be true to one you loved, without reference to worldly influences, I never doubted, nor could– I think I will let you beg my pardon; you unjust, dearest––

To so much over-praise, there should be a little wronging, too .. & therefore you are not, after all, ‘unjust’ .. only ‘dearest!’ ....

Such a letter, besides, you have written, .. & there are two of them today! You will not go from me, I think, “so far, so far”– You will not leave me behind, with the harpoon in me, to make red the salt wilderness of waters–

Altogether, then, I forgive you, Robert—& it is glorious for me to have something to forgive you for, who are the best so out of measure! .. I sieze the opportunity."

And she ends with this amusing anecdote:

"I was in the carriage today in Oxford Street .. & a sealed letter was thrown exactly at my head, my aunt & cousin & Henrietta being with me—a sealed letter sealed with arms (not of Agincourt!) & directed “For your perusal”. Guess the meaning of that!– Why just a tract by the Revd Villiers of that parish, upon the enormous wickedness of frequenting plays & balls!!– Perhaps I looked as if my sole had entered into the secret of the Polka-dancers!—who can say?"

Throwing a tract at young ladies in carriages is probably not the most effective means of exacting a conversion, but how wonderful the irony.

In the mean time Browning has not much to say in his daily letter and writes so aimlessly that even he sees the waste of ink on paper:

".. As if I care!—can I care about anything that is not Ba? All else seems as idle as .. as,—now you shall have a real instance in point—as my dream last night; this morning at breakfast my mother asked me, the first thing, what could so amuse me as to make me call loudly “Bravo” again and again, with abundance of laughter? (My room is next to hers and the door is left a-jar)—whereupon I tried to recall my dream—and all that I can seize is a passage thro’ a gallery of Haydon’s pictures, one of which was a portrait of his wife; nor did a suspicion once cross my mind that the artist was not well and working somewhere in the vicinity all the time– How strange! I never dream if quite well—and I suppose the present state of my head just amounts to not being quite well. (It is better at any rate, and tomorrow—ought to be worse, that Ba may prove her potency as of old)"

Interesting dream. The Haydon drama continues.

July 12

Let's look at a letter from July 12, 1845 and July 12. 1846. Miss Barrett was holding Browning at arms length in 1845 with talk of thunderstorms:

"You see, Jupiter Tonans was good enough to come to-day on purpose to deliver me—one evil for another! for I confess with shame and contrition, that I never wait to enquire whether it thunders to the left or the right, to be frightened most ingloriously. Isn't it a disgrace to anyone with a pretension to poetry? Dr. Chambers, a part of whose office it is, Papa says, 'to reconcile foolish women to their follies,' used to take the side of my vanity, and discourse at length on the passive obedience of some nervous systems to electrical influences; but perhaps my faint-heartedness is besides traceable to a half-reasonable terror of a great storm in Herefordshire, where great storms most do congregate, (such storms!) round the Malvern Hills, those mountains of England. We lived four miles from their roots, through all my childhood and early youth, in a Turkish house my father built himself, crowded with minarets and domes, and crowned with metal spires and crescents, to the provocation (as people used to observe) of every lightning of heaven. Once a storm of storms happened, and we all thought the house was struck—and a tree was so really, within two hundred yards of the windows while I looked out—the bark, rent from the top to the bottom ... torn into long ribbons by the dreadful fiery hands, and dashed out into the air, over the heads of other trees, or left twisted in their branches—torn into shreds in a moment, as a flower might be, by a child! Did you ever see a tree after it has been struck by lightning? The whole trunk of that tree was bare and peeled—and up that new whiteness of it, ran the finger-mark of the lightning in a bright beautiful rose-colour (none of your roses brighter or more beautiful!) the fever-sign of the certain death—though the branches themselves were for the most part untouched, and spread from the peeled trunk in their full summer foliage; and birds singing in them three hours afterwards! And, in that same storm, two young women belonging to a festive party were killed on the Malvern Hills—each sealed to death in a moment with a sign on the chest which a common seal would cover—only the sign on them was not rose-coloured as on our tree, but black as charred wood. So I get 'possessed' sometimes with the effects of these impressions, and so does one, at least, of my sisters, in a lower degree—and oh!—how amusing and instructive all this is to you! When my father came into the room to-day and found me hiding my eyes from the lightning, he was quite angry and called 'it disgraceful to anybody who had ever learnt the alphabet'—to which I answered humbly that 'I knew it was'—but if I had been impertinent, I might have added that wisdom does not come by the alphabet but in spite of it? Don't you think so in a measure?"

By July 1846 their world had changed. Our two poets are planning their escape to Italy, but still working through doubts. Here Browning is responding to an exchange that they shared during their regular meeting at Wimpole Street the previous day. The exact nature of what was said is not knowable but we can deduce from the exchange, which will continue with Miss Barrett's response tomorrow, that someone had criticized Browning to Miss Barrett and he feared that she might hesitate or back out. This has made Browning quite angry, which, of course, he regrets:

When I made you promise to refer no more to that subject....I did not engage myself to the like silence .. perhaps because I was not bidden—or, no! there is a better reason; I want to beg your pardon, dearest, for all that petulancy,—for the manner of what I said rather than the matter,—there is a rationality in it all, if I could express trulier what I feel—but the manner was foolish and wrong and unnecessary to you—so do forgive and forget it. You would understand and sympathize if you knew—not me, whom you do know in some degree,—but so much of my early life as would account for the actual horror and hatred I have of those particular doctrines of the world—and the especially foolish word about the “travelling” meant something like the not unnatural thought that if in this main, sole event for all good or all evil in my life,—if here the world plucked you from me by any of the innumerable lines it casts,—with that indirectness, too,—then, I should simply go and live the rest of my days as far out of it as I could.

The simple thing to say is, that I who know you to be above me in all great, or good feelings and therefore worship you, must be without excuse to talk inconsiderately as if I, sitting by you and speaking of the same subject, must needs feel more acutely more strongly in one respect where, indeed, it wants very little pre-eminence in heart or brain to feel entirely the truth—a simplest of truths. It would have been laughable if I had broken out on Mrs Procter’s bitterness of speech, for instance .. just as though you were the slower of us two to see the nature of it! So I do again ask your pardon, dearest Ba! You said you loved me no less yesterday than ever—how must I love you and press closer to you more and more, and desire to see nothing of the world behind you, when I hear how the world thinks, and how you think! You only, only adorable woman, only imaginable love for me! And all the hastiness and petulancy comes from that .. some one seems to come close (in every such maxim of the world’s) and say 'What is she—to so much a year? Could you be happy with her except in May fair—and there whom could you not be happy with!' "

Mrs. Proctor's criticism of Browning had come much earlier when she told Kenyon that Browning needed an occupation for eight hours a day to keep him busy. This latest criticism must have come close to this type of comment. And let's face it, he is a penniless poet. But what an apology! He ends the letter by running a long slash across the page and writing words of worshipful love:

"....May nothing overcast the perfect three hours on Tuesday,—those dear, dear spaces of dear brightness: why cannot a life be made up of these .. with the proper interposition of work, to justify God’s goodness so far as poor mortality and its endeavours can,—a week of Tuesdays—then a month—a year—a life! I most long to see you again,—always by far the most I long,—the next day—the very day after I have seen you—when it is freshest in my mind what I did not say while I might have said it,—nor ask while I might have been answered,—nor learn while you would have taught me, ... no, it is indescribable. Did I call yesterday “unsatisfactory”? Would I had it back now! Or better, I will wish you here where I write, with the trees to see and the birds to hear thro’ the open window. I see you on this old chair against the purple back .. or shall you lie on the sofa? Ba, how I love you, my own perfect, unapproachable mistress–

Let me kiss your feet—and now your hands and your eyes—and your lips now, for the full pardon’s sake, my sweetest love–"

Oh yeah, this guy has either got it bad or....I don't know. I would throw a book with that kind of dialogue on the fire. No wonder she doubted him, he seems to be living out some sort of Medieval Knights Tale. Can this be real?  *Sigh* Another time and another place.

July 11

We haven't been paying much attention to the letters of June and July 1845 mostly because Miss Barrett had warned Browning that he was not permitted to love her, he was only permitted to be her friend, when he had declared himself at the end of May. They have mostly been talking about poetry (she is reviewing his poems) and the weather and literary gossip. But this did not mean that Browning wasn't trying to get his message heard. Let's look at some of Browning's attempts at self restraint and hint dropping:

June 9
Just after my note left, yours came—I will try so to answer it as to please you; and I begin by promising cheerfully to do all you bid me about naming days &c. I do believe we are friends now and for ever.

June 14
I will get the Tragedy transcribed to bring—
'To bring!' Next Wednesday—if you know how happy you make me! may I not say that, my dear friend, when I feel it from my soul? You let 'flowers be sent you in a letter,' every one knows, and this hot day draws out our very first yellow rose.

June 19
And now here is a week to wait before I shall have any occasion to relapse into Greek literature when I am thinking all the while, 'now I will just ask simply, what flattery there was,' &c. &c., which, as I had not courage to say then, I keep to myself for shame now. This I will say, then—wait and know me better, as you will one long day at the end.

June 23
And if I am 'suspicious of your suspiciousness,' who gives cause, pray? The matter was long ago settled, I thought, when you first took exception to what I said about higher and lower, and I consented to this much—that you should help seeing, if you could, our true intellectual and moral relation each to the other, so long as you would allow me to see what is there, fronting me. 'Is my eye evil because yours is not good?' My own friend, if I wished to 'make you vain,' if having 'found the Bower' I did really address myself to the wise business of spoiling its rose-roof,—I think that at least where there was such a will, there would be also something not unlike a way,—that I should find a proper hooked stick to tear down flowers with, and write you other letters than these—quite, quite others, I feel—though I am far from going to imagine, even for a moment, what might be the precise prodigy—like the notable Son of Zeus, that was to have been, and done the wonders, only he did not, because &c. &c....And all the while I am yours

June 24
As for going abroad, that is just the thing I most want to avoid (for a reason not so hard to guess, perhaps, as why my letter was slow in arriving).
So, till to-morrow,—my light through the dark week.

June 25
Pomegranates you may cut deep down the middle and see into, but not hearts,—so why should I try and speak?

July 7
for you and me—and as it was in the beginning so it is still. You are the—But you know and why should I tease myself with words?

July 14
I daresay you think you have some, perhaps many, to whom your well-being is of deeper interest than to me. Well, if that be so, do for their sakes make every effort with the remotest chance of proving serviceable to you; nor set yourself against any little irksomeness these carriage-drives may bring with them just at the beginning; and you may say, if you like, 'how I shall delight those friends, if I can make this newest one grateful'—and, as from the known quantity one reasons out the unknown, this newest friend will be one glow of gratitude, he knows that, if you can warm your finger-tips and so do yourself that much real good, by setting light to a dozen 'Duchesses': why ought I not to say this when it is so true?

He would burn his poems to warm her fingertips. Are these not words of love?

July--undated note sent with a packet of books by Hood:
I shall just say, at the beginning of a note as at the end, I am yours ever, and not till summer ends and my nails fall out, and my breath breaks bubbles,—ought you to write thus having restricted me as you once did, and do still? You tie me like a Shrove-Tuesday fowl to a stake and then pick the thickest cudgel out of your lot, and at my head it goes—I wonder whether you remembered having predicted exactly the same horror once before. 'I was to see you—and you were to understand'—Do you? do you understand—my own friend—with that superiority in years, too!....
God bless you—do not be otherwise than kind to this letter which it costs me pains, great pains to avoid writing better, as truthfuller—this you get is not the first begun. Come, you shall not have the heart to blame me; for, see, I will send all my sins of commission with Hood,—blame them, tell me about them, and meantime let me be, dear friend, yours, RB

July 22
I cannot write this morning—I should say too much and have to be sorry and afraid—let me be safely yours ever, my own dear friend— R.B.
I am but too proud of your praise—when will the blame come—at Malta?

July 25
Will you write to me? caring, though, so much for my best interests as not to write if you can work for yourself, or save yourself fatigue. I think before writing—or just after writing—such a sentence—but reflection only justifies my first feeling; I would rather go without your letters, without seeing you at all, if that advantaged you—my dear, first and last friend; my friend! And now—surely I might dare say you may if you please get well through God's goodness—with persevering patience, surely—and this next winter abroad—which you must get ready for now, every sunny day, will you not? If I venture to weary you again with all this, is there not the cause of causes, and did not the prophet write that 'there was a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the E.B.B.' led on to the fortune of  Your R.B.

July 28
How must I feel, and what can, or could I say even if you let me say all? I am most grateful, most happy—most happy, come what will!

July 31
In all I say to you, write to you, I know very well that I trust to your understanding me almost beyond the warrant of any human capacity—but as I began, so I shall end. I shall believe you remember what I am forced to remember—you who do me the superabundant justice on every possible occasion,—you will never do me injustice when I sit by you and talk about Italy and the rest.
—To-day I cannot write—though I am very well otherwise—but I shall soon get into my old self-command and write with as much 'ineffectual fire' as before: but meantime, you will write to me, I hope—telling me how you are? I have but one greater delight in the world than in hearing from you.
God bless you, my best, dearest friend—think what I would speak—

August 4
Dearest friend, I intend to write more, and very likely be praised more, now I care less than ever for it, but still more do I look to have you ever before me, in your place, and with more poetry and more praise still, and my own heartfelt praise ever on the top, like a flower on the water. I have said nothing of yesterday's storm ... thunder ... may you not have been out in it! The evening draws in, and I will walk out. May God bless you, and let you hold me by the hand till the end—Yes, dearest friend!

August 8
Never, pray, pray, never lose one sunny day or propitious hour to 'go out or walk about.' But do not surprise me, one of these mornings, by 'walking' up to me when I am introduced' ... or I shall infallibly, in spite of all the after repentance and begging pardon—I shall [words effaced]. So here you learn the first 'painful truth' I have it in my power to tell you!
I sent you the last of our poor roses this morning—considering that I fairly owed that kindness to them.

August 15
Do you know, dear friend, it is no good policy to stop up all the vents of my feeling, nor leave one for safety's sake, as you will do, let me caution you never so repeatedly. I know, quite well enough, that your 'kindness' is not so apparent, even, in this instance of correcting my verses, as in many other points—but on such points, you lift a finger to me and I am dumb.... Am I not to be allowed a word here neither?

As the summer goes on he gets bolder and bolder. She grows less formal, she is getting more comfortable with the wooing. We have seen what a careful reader she is of every word written, she would be have to be blind not to see where he is going with all this. Yet he never fails to refer to her as his friend. Dear friend. Dearest friend. August 4th he says he heard thunder. Can lightning be far behind?

July 10 Letter to George

July 10, 1846 Miss Barrett writes a letter to her brother George Barrett who is a lawyer, asking for his advise and help in dealing with the Haydon matter. This letter is interesting on so many levels. It illuminates her relationship with her brother, his knowledge of her relationship with Browning and their relationship with their father. While all of the Barrett siblings live together at 50 Wimpole Street, George Barrett is apparently on the road and away from London quite a bit in his capacity with the circuit court, thus the need to send this letter:

"My dearest George,
I have some things ‘on my mind’ & they must be off it for the first relief, before I begin to talk of other things. Very much I have been pained & perplexed & surprised lately, & you shall hear now.
It appears that poor Mr. Haydon had left a paper declaratory of his last wishes, now in the hands of Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, in which to my infinite astonishment, he makes a bequest of his memoirs & other papers to me desiring that I should edit & place them for publication in Longman’s hands. Mr. Forster called on Mr. Kenyon to apprise him of this, and Mr. Kenyon came to tell me of it at once.
I was amazed-The memoirs of which you may remember that I was shown a part, about a year and a half ago, though curious and interesting, are perfectly unfit for publication without large modification-as I told Mr. Haydon at the time. There are said to be twenty six volumes of them-and you may imagine that if a blind man would be an unqualified president of the Royal Academy, I must be quite as unqualified for an editorship of such a description-I, without the experience of art & of the world-who belong to a later generation & know nothing of the persons mentioned or the events referred to-that you must see at a glance. Also, it is scarcely the work of a woman-"

Rather an odd comment for a woman. Hmmm...

"Now then-Mr. Kenyon advised me to write to Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, to desire information respecting this paper-I waited however for a day or two. I felt unwilling to write to Mr. Talfourd.
In the meanwhile, Mr. Browning dine at Russell Square last tuesday-(he was of course aware of these circumstances). Scarcely had the men entered on their wine after dinner, when Mr. Sergeant Talfourd took up the subject of poor Haydon & the bequest he had made to me-& read a letter of Miss Mitford’s and two letters of mine-or parts of them-(which either in copy or the original, she had taken the great liberty of sending straight to him, after having called him ‘the falsest of men’ two days before in my room!) an absurd letter of Miss Mitford’s, to compliment Talfourd on the occasion of poor Haydon’s carrying out the principle of ‘Ion’ –(conceive that!) & to communicate the contents of my letters, in which, with natural expressions of feeling, (how can I remember what I said in a moment of emotion, to a friend like Miss Mitford?) I spoke of the boxes & pictures which I had.-‘And so speaks out great poetess,’ ended she ecstatically. Which Talfourd commented on by supposing drily that when Miss B wrote of Miss M; it was—‘And so speaks our great dramatist.’ You know how he hates her-& none of the ridicule of what appears to have been a most ridiculous letter, was let fall to the ground.
So, somebody said one thing, & another; another somebody said that Miss Barrett was plainly a very particular friend of Haydon’s--& somebody said that her house appeared to be the receptacle for his goods against his creditors—till at last Mr. Browning, no longer able to contain his indignation, (observe that Edwin Landseer, Babbage, Forster & more were present!) took it upon himself to answer for it of his own knowledge, that I had never seem Haydon in my life, & had received the things he sent, just as anyone would, who had too much heart to throw them into the street. Afterwards he took Talfourd aside, and told him that I had been selected for the editorship precisely because of my inexperience & isolation from the world, & in the hope that I would print everything & spare nobody. ‘But,’ said Talfourd, ‘she must beware of printing anything at this time-& beware also of its being known that she has in her possession any deposit from Haydon-otherwise she will subject herself to a legal prosecution’ So spoke the great man of the law."

Happily she does not lose her wit or wits! The things that men spoke about over wine and cigars. To think that Miss Barrett was the topic of conversation among men with cigars! No wonder Browning was indignant!

"Mr. Browning thought it advisable that I should write at once to Talfourd, therefore, stating fully yet briefly the facts-that Mr. Haydon had written to me—which led first into our correspondence of some months-that I had not heard from him above a year, till the week preceding his death-that I had received a deposit from his hands no more than twice—once before the last fatal time! & that what I received, had no pecuniary value as he represented it, consisting of private papers & a few sketches, & his oil-that I never saw him in my life, & was astonished & perplexed at being named for an office for which I considered myself unqualified-All this, I wrote to Mr. Talfourd, ending by begging to know what I could do, not to do wrong-& he has my letter, I suppose, before he left town for circuit yesterday morning. I have yet had no reply.
Now, George, he probably will speak to you on the subject-he probably will. Therefore remember & take heed to your speech. I am very desirous of paying every respect to poor Mr. Haydon’s memory-everything that I could do, I would do. At the same time let Mr. Talfourd understand the simple facts, & that this house was not used as a receptacle for the purpose of defrauding his creditors, & also that I never saw him in my life--, People were ‘astonished how Miss B came to know’ &c—Poor Haydon did not lead the most prudent of lives it appears. See what a scrape I am in---Mr. Kenyon might well say as he did –‘You, of all in the world I should have thought, would have been safe from the danger of such a position.’
I took the precaution of saying to Mr. Talfourd, in my letter to him, that in agreeing to receive those things, it would have been better if I have first consulted my father & brothers, but that I could not hesitate so long as to admit of it—Which I said lest you might be blamed more gravely that I could be for an act of pitifulness!—Besides it is only just. It was my own deed. If I had asked Papa he would not have let me, you know-& I did not ask him."

She is certainly a thoughtful person, she does not want Talfourd to think unwell of George lest he believe George gave her poor legal advise.

"You will observe too that that Mr. Browning’s account to me of what passed at Mr. Serjt. Talfourd’s table, is not to be referred to or repeated, anywise or anywhere—nor Miss Mitford’s name, mentioned. I have no claim on him, Talfourd-he is not my friend-he judged of things as he saw them at the first glance. As to Miss Mitford-she was foolish and thoughtless-but meant no harm, though I am very angry in the shadow of my soul. But I heard all this from Mr. Browning, & you must not on any account let it be breathed upon by other breath than our own. I never saw him so angry since our acquaintance began. Worse things were said or implied I do not doubt, than what he told me, he was so angry."

She has certainly had a lot to forgive Miss Mitford for. The lady does seem to be serially indiscreet. Her description of Browning's anger is certainly stronger here than is reflected in her letters to him. She initially did not even address Browning's anger in her first letter of July 9th and only mentioned it briefly after he expressed regret for his anger toward Haydon after he had taken the time to read his letters. She knew he was angry only because he was 'sorry' for her. She certainly seemed to be trying to tamp down the fire in that quarter. Here again, she is taking the blame on herself, certainly a very humble position.

"If his name should be mentioned at all between Talfourd & you—that is, if Talfourd should mention it to you..-remember that he only knows of our correspondence & not our personal acquaintance.-Mr. Browning’s & mine-So be on your guard.
Papa knows nothing of this turmoil, except generally of the bequest.
Have I made it clear to you, George? I have been vexed, perplexed, more than you fancy perhaps-yet I am sure you will see that it is an unpleasant position. Write your thoughts to me and advise.
Poor, poor Haydon-What are we—to complain of the dust upon his grave? Poor Haydon!"

Postscript:

"I have just now a letter from Miss Mitford, unconscious as she is that I know of her freedom with my letters. As she has just heard from Mr. Serjt. Talfourd, she says, who writes of ‘Our great poetess, as you very properly call her &c.’ &c Oh Mr. Serjeant Talfourd! – Oh – Oh, the flummery of Sergeants at Law! May it not well make one sick! – Sweet indeed in the mouth, & bitter in the digestion, is the parlance of this world!-"

I would venture to say that Mr. Sergeant Talfourd has thoroughly disgusted Miss Barrett!

"He said to Mr. Browning—‘If she will put me in possession of the facts, I can arrange everything with her brother, when I meet him on circuit – I know him – he is a VERY PROMISING YOUTH! – Which was sincere, at least – I suppose, for he need not have said it to RB."

This letter seems very honest and straight forward. She is not shading the story to hide dishonorable conduct on her part. She is rightly trying to protect her position legally and her reputation. She does seem willing however, to allow herself to seem feminine and 'pitiful' in order to make herself seem more of a victim. Since she was the victim of the actions of a desperate man this excuse seems hardly necessary. But she does not over play this hand.
It is interesting to get a peek at her relationship with her brother. Notice that she gave no prohibition to George to say anything to their father. Did she not make this prohibition because she knew she did not need to or because she would not put a restriction on her brother that he could not abide? Perhaps both. She certainly makes it clear to him that she has not told their father and her reasons for not doing so.  She also does her best to protect Browning. She does not explain to George why she does not want George to mention her meetings with Browning. He obviously understands the reasoning without her explanation. They come from a place of commonality. Her spurt of disgust against Talfourd for his 'flummery' is certainly worth the price of admission. Another great letter from Miss Barrett.

July 10

Browning writes July 10, 1846 on a number of things, plans for Italy, Flush the attack spaniel, the weather, Miss Barrett's health and of course, Haydon:

"And I am disappointed, dearest, in this news of La Cava—after which it would be madness to think of going there: the one reason we have to go at all is simply for your health—I mean, that if the seclusion were the main object, we might easily compass that here. All places are utterly indifferent to me if I can inhabit them with you—why should Palermo please me less than Italy proper? The distance is considerable, however, and the journey expensive. I wonder whether the steamer will sail for Leghorn as last year. As for the travelling English, they are horrible and, at Florence, unbearable .. their voices in your ear at every turn .. and such voices!....The most dreadful event that could happen to me would be your getting worse instead of better .. God knows what I should do! So whatever precaution we can take, let us take.

Oh, poor Flush,—do you think I do not love and respect him for his jealous supervision,—his slowness to know another, having once known you? All my apprehension is that, in the imaginations downstairs, he may very unconsciously play the part of the dog that is heard to “bark violently” while something dreadful takes place: yet I do not sorrow over his slapped ears, as if they ever pained him very much—you dear Ba!

Browning is such a gentleman, he doesn't want anyone downstairs to think that something untoward is going on in Miss Barrett's boudoir! What a hoot.

"And to-morrow I shall see you– Are you, can you be, really “better” after I have seen you? If it is not truth .. which I will not say .. such an assurance is the most consummate flattery I can imagine .. it may be recorded on my tombstone “RB—to whom this flattery was addressed; that, after the sight of him, Ba was better, she said”– If it is truth .. may you say that, neither more nor less, day by day, year by year thro’ our lives—and I shall have lived indeed!"

I want, now, to refer as little as possible to the sad subject .. but I am glad you have written,—glad too that you are not severe on me for some hasty speeches—which did, indeed, mean as you say .. vexation at your having been vexed. And, I will just add, you remark excellently on the wound to self love making itself that remedy, rather than the wound to the affections .. yet there are instances .. Romilly loses his wife .. so does poor Laman Blanchard."

This last reference is to two recent cases of men who had committed suicide after the death of their wives in response to her assertion that most suicides are not the result of grief. This probably isn't the last of the Haydon story. These little dramas seem to linger. But the plans for Italy, which seem rather speculative, like flipping through a tour book catalog, are prelude to a flight that is not too far away...

July 9

Browning visited Miss Barrett at Wimpole Street on July 8th and Miss Barrett writes on July 9, 1846 to wipe up the blood in the aftermath of the great dog attack on Browning's leg:

"Ah Flush, Flush!—he did not hurt you really? You will forgive him for me? The truth is that he hates all unpetticoated people, & that though he does not hate you, he has a certain distrust of you, which any outward sign, such as the umbrella, reawakens– But if you had seen how sorry & ashamed he was yesterday!—I slapped his ears & told him that he never should be loved again: and he sate on the sofa (sitting, not lying) with his eyes fixed on me all the time I did the flowers, with an expression of quite despair in his face. At last I said, ‘If you are good, Flush, you may come & say that you are sorry’ .. on which he dashed across the room &, trembling all over, kissed first one of my hands & then another, & put up his paws to be shaken, & looked into my face with such great beseeching eyes, that you would certainly have forgiven him just as I did. It is not savageness– If he once loved you, you might pull his ears & his tail, & take a bone out of his mouth even, & he would not bite you. He has no savage caprices like other dogs & men I have known."

The dog does not have 'savage caprices' like men she has know! Hysterical. I wonder who she is referring to? Papa Barrett? The Reverend Hunter? Browning and his approval of dueling? She is also looking ahead to the great leave taking by crossing La Cava off their list of prospective homes. She includes a letter from an acquaintance who cautions against this Italian town:

"See what an account we have this morning, of La Cava .. “quite impossible for the winter”. What does “quite impossible” quite mean, I wonder? I feel disappointed. As to Palermo, you would rather be in Italy, & so would I, perhaps. Salerno seems questionable too,—& Vietri .. what of Vietri? I dont at all see why we should receive the responses of this friend of my friend who is not so very much my friend, as if they were oracular & final. There must be the right of appeal for us to other authorities. Will you investigate & think a little? For my part I shall not care to what place we go, except for the climate’s sake—the cheapness too should be considered a little: &, for the rest, every place which you should like, I should like, & which you liked most, I should like most—everything is novelty to me, remember."

She also notes that she has written to Talfourd regarding the Haydon business, as Browning had suggested:

"But I wrote to Mr Serjeant Talfourd last night, & told him as fully & as briefly as I could, the whole position .. and, that vexation, I shall try now to throw behind me, after the fashion of dear Mr Kenyon’s philosophy. I put the thought of you, beloved, between me & all other thoughts—surely I can, when you were here only yesterday. So much to think of, there is!– One thing made me laugh in the recollection. Do you mean to tell Mrs Jameson that you are going to marry me, 'because it is intolerable to hear me talked of'? That would be an original motive– 'So speaks the great poet'!....Dearest, you did me so much good yesterday!"


Yes, she was very cheery in her letter today, and, does not seem to mind being talked of! How she does love to teaze her boy. Browning really did seem to do her some good.

Browning also continues the conversation from their visit the previous day. She had apparently given Browning letters from Haydon to read:

"My own darling, my Ba, do you know when I read those letters (as soon as I remembered I had got them,—for you hold me long after both doors, up and downstairs, shut) when I looked thro’ them, under a gateway .. I was pricked at the heart to have thought so, and spoken so, of the poor writer: I will believe that he was good and even great when in communication with you .. indeed all men are made, or make themselves, different in their approaches to different men—and the secret of goodness and greatness is in choosing whom you will approach, and live with, in memory or imagination, thro’ the crowding obvious people who seem to live with you– That letter about the glory of being a painter “if only for the neglect” is most touching and admirable .. there is the serene spot attained, the solid siren’s isle amid the sea; and while there, he was safe and well .. but he would put out to sea again, after a breathing time, I suppose: though even a smaller strip of land was enough to maintain Blake...

I take your view of H.’s freedom, at that time, from the thoughts of what followed–....
I am not particularly engaged next Saturday! Ba, shall I really see you so soon? Bless you ever, my very, very own! I shall not hear to-day .. but to-morrow, .. do but not keep me waiting for that letter, and the mules shall be ready hours and hours, for any anger I will have, at La Cava!

Interesting that the stopped under a gateway as he walked home to read the letters. I think he was a bit interested to see what another man was writing to his lady. I bet he would have loved to have read her letters to Haydon as well. I'm not saying anything here other than Browning was human and would have been curious. Browning himself might have felt some neglect to his genius as well, but the difference was that Browning did not outlay a lot of money to promote his art and then have no return for it. Haydon had spent a lot of money to produce paintings and sculptures and renting halls to exhibit them while attempting to support a family. Debt more that genius brought the sad end to Haydon. And don't all people have a 'serene spot' that they reach and visit occasionally? It is a vanity to think that is exclusive to men of worldly talent. Most people have only a small strip of land. The analogy is sound just not exclusive.

Browning apparently was not put out by the savage caprice of Flush the attack spaniel--he doesn't even mention the dreadful incident.

Miss Barrett's second letter comes forth from Wimpole Street:

"How I have waited for your letter tonight,—& it comes nearly at ten!– It comes at last—thank you for it, ever dearest. And I knew .. quite understood yesterday, that you were sorry for me, which made you angry with another .. but, as to poor Haydon, you are too generous & too pitiful to refuse him any justice—I was sure that the letters would touch you....Mr Kenyon said of the letter we have spoken of, that it was scarcely the production of a sane mind. But I who was used to his letters, saw nothing in it in the least unusual—he has written to me far wilder letters! That he ‘never should die,’ he had said once or twice before. Then Napoleon was a favorite subject of his .. constantly recurred to. He was not mad then!....Often it has struck me as a curious thing (yet it is not perhaps curious) that suicides are occasioned nearly always by a mortified selflove .. by losses in money, which force a man into painful positions .. & scarcely ever by bereavement through death .. scarcely ever. The wound on the vanity is more irritating than the wound on the affections...."

He was angry because this suicided genius dared to besmirch his lady's good name. How could he feel any other way? But Haydon was selfish in every way. It is doubtful that it ever crossed his mind that Miss Barrett's reputation would be dented because of him. But Miss Barrett is not selfish, she thinks of Browning:

"You never can have a grief, dearest dearest, of which I shall not have half for my share. That is my right from henceforth .. & if I could have it all .. would I not, do you think, .. & give my love to you to keep instead? Yes, .. indeed yes! May God bless you always. I have walked out today, you did me so much good yesterday. As for saturday, it certainly is our day, since you are not ‘particularly engaged’ to Miss Campbell. Saturday, the day after tomorrow!– But the mules may wait long at La Cava for us, if the tradition, which I sent you, is trustworthy—may they not? I feel as disappointed .. as disappointed!–"

And, of course, she will have the opportunity to offer Browning her love for his grief. But that is a few years away....

In the mean time she ends lightly by teasing him about his engagement to Miss Campbell. Oh dear. Will he ever live down that imputation on his honor?

July 8

July 8, 1846 brings big news in the Haydon affair. Browning has attended a dinner the night before during which Miss Barrett and Haydon were the subject of discussion. He writes to report in a letter marked PRIVATE:

"My own Ba, I received your note on my return from Talfourd’s last night: I am anxious to get the first post for this, so can only use the bare words,—if those. After dinner, Forster put a question to our Host about the amount of the Subscription; and in a minute the paper-bequest was introduced: Talfd had received a letter from Miss Mitford, enclosing one from you (or a copy of one .. I did not hear)—whereat he pronounced so emphatically upon H’s conduct in making you,—“who could never have known the nature of the transaction nor the very serious consequences it involved”—the depositary of his pictures &c on such occasions, .. the words, “H. it seems, has been in the habit of using Miss B’s house &c” (or to that effect) had so offensive an implication,—that I felt obliged to say simply, you had never seen Haydon and were altogether amazed and distressed at his desire,—and that, for the other matter, what he chose to send, you could not, I supposed, bring yourself to refuse admittance to the house. I gave no particular account of my own means of knowledge, nor spoke further than to remove the impression from the minds of the people present that you must have “known” Haydon, as they call “knowing”—and Forster, for one, expressed surprize at it. I ventured to repeat what I mentioned to you—“that it seemed likely you were selected for the Editorship precisely on account of your isolation from the world”–

Browning was forced to defend her honor before a room full of people who were suspecting the worst! What a moment in the annals of chivalry!

Soon after, Forster went away—and, up stairs, I got Talfourd alone and just told him that I was in the habit of corresponding with you, that you had made me acquainted with a few of the circumstances, and that you had at once thought of him, Talfourd, as the proper source of instruction on the subject– Talfourd’s reply amounted to this,—(in the fewest words possible)– The will &c is of course an absurdity. The papers are the undoubted property of the creditors .. any attempt to publish them would subject you to an action at law. They were given prospectively to you exactly for the reason I suggested: they having been in the first instance offered to Talfourd. Haydon knew that T. would never print them in their offensive integrity, and hoped that you would—being quite of the average astuteness in worldly matters when his own vanity and selfishness were not concerned. They might, these papers, be published with advantage to Mrs Haydon at some future time if the creditors permit—or without their permitting, if woven into a substantially new frame work,—as some “Haydon & his Times,” or the like.. but there is nothing to call for such a step at present, even in that view of advantage to the family .. the subscription and other assistances being sufficient for their necessities. Therefore the course T. would recommend you to adopt is to let the deposit (if you have one .. for he did not know, and I said nothing)—lie untouched—not giving them up to anybody, any creditor, to Mrs H’s prejudice.

Now, can you do better than as Forster advises? Talfourd goes on circuit To-morrow—he said, “I can hear, or arrange anything with Miss B’s Brother”--so that, if there should be no time, you can write by him, and entrust explanations &c. But would it not be best to get done with this matter directly—to write a brief note in the course of to-day, mentioning the facts, and requesting advice? In order to leave you the time to do this,—should the post presently bring me a letter allowing me to see you at three .. unless the allowance is very free, very irresistible .. I will rather take tomorrow .. a piece of self denial I fear I should not so readily bring myself to exhibit, were I not really obliged to pass your house to-day,—so that even Ba will understand!

Miss Mitford’s note appears to have been none of the wisest—indeed a phrase or two, I heard, were purely foolish: H. was said to have practised “Ion’s” principle!

Miss Mitford does seem to have a habit of writing foolish letters!

T. has known Haydon most intimately and for a long time: he does not believe H was mad– Of a mad vanity, of course. His last paper .. “Haydon’s thoughts” .. was a dissertation on the respective merits of Napoleon and Wellington—how wrong Haydon felt he had been, to prefer the former .. and the why and the wherefore .. all this wretched stuff, in a room theatrically arranged,—here his pictures, there .. God forgive us all, fools or wise by comparison! The debts are said to be £3000 .. he having been an Insolvent debtor .. how long before? His landlord, a poor man, is creditor for £1200.

Here I will end, and wait: this is written in all haste .. and is so altogether no proper letter of mine that I shall put the necessary “Private” at the top of it. My letter shall go presently, if I do not go, to my own Ba–

RB.

Should you write to your Brother .. will he need reminding that Talfourd is only to know we correspond,—not that we are personally acquainted? Had you not better mention this in any case?

God bless you, dearest,—what a letter from me to you—to Ba! Time, Time!"

What a tightrope Browning has walked in defending his lady from the gossip of men while at the same time keeping not just the nature of their relationship secret but that they ever even met a secret. This was really an opportunity for Browning to shine in her eyes, not that he didn't already, and he certainly has done admirably so far. How will it play out? This will probably take some time to play out.