I hear that Jessie Mario and her husband have been taken up at Ferrara.
They were _only_ going to begin the war with Austria on their own account. Mazzini deserves what I should be sorry to inflict. He is a man without conscience. And that"s no reason why Jessie and her party should use him for _theirs_. Mario is only the husband of his wife.
Robert has brought me home a most perfect copy of a small torso of Venus--from the Greek--in the clay. It is wonderfully done, say the learned. He says "all his happiness lies in clay now"; _that_ was his speech to me this morning. _Not_ a compliment, but said so sincerely and fervently, that I could not but sympathise and wish him a life-load of clay to riot in. It"s the mixture of physical and intellectual effort which makes the attraction, I imagine. Certainly he is very well and very gay.
I am happy to see that the "North British Quarterly" has an article on him. That gives hope for England. Thackeray has turned me out of the "Cornhill" for indecency, but did it so prettily and kindly that I, who am forgiving, sent him another poem. He says that plain words permitted on Sundays must not be spoken on Mondays in England, and also that his "Magazine is for babes and sucklings." (I thought it was for the volunteers.)
May G.o.d bless you, dearest Sarianna and nonno! Pen"s love.
The incident alluded to in the last paragraph deserves fuller mention, for the credit it does to both parties concerned in it. The letters that pa.s.sed between Thackeray and Mrs. Browning on the subject have been given by Mrs. Richmond Ritchie in the "Cornhill Magazine" for July 1896, from which I am allowed to quote them. Mrs. Browning, in reply to a request from Thackeray for contributions to the then newly established "Cornhill," had sent him, among other poems, "Lord Walter"s Wife,"[100]
of which, though the moral is unimpeachable, the subject is not absolutely _virginibus puerisque_. The editor, in this difficulty, wrote the following admirable letter:--
_W.M. Thackeray to Mrs. Browning._
36 Onslow Square: April 2, 1861.
My dear, kind Mrs. Browning,--Has Browning ever had an aching tooth which must come out (I don"t say _Mrs._ Browning, for women are much more courageous)--a tooth which must come out, and which he has kept for months and months away from the dentist? I have had such a tooth a long time, and have sate down in this chair, and never had the courage to undergo the pull.
This tooth is an allegory (I mean _this_ one). It"s your poem that you sent me months ago, and who am I to refuse the poems of Elizabeth Browning and set myself up as a judge over her? I can"t tell you how often I have been going to write and have failed. You see that our Magazine is written not only for men and women but for boys, girls, infants, sucklings almost; and one of the best wives, mothers, women in the world writes some verses which I feel certain would be objected to by many of our readers. Not that the writer is not pure, and the moral most pure, chaste, and right, but there are things _my_ squeamish public will not hear on Monday, though on Sundays they listen to them without scruple. In your poem, you know, there is an account of unlawful pa.s.sion, felt by a man for a woman, and though you write pure doctrine, and real modesty, and pure ethics, I am sure our readers would make an outcry, and so I have not published this poem.
To have to say no to my betters is one of the hardest duties I have, but I"m sure we must not publish your verses, and I go down on my knees before cutting my victim"s head off, and say, "Madam, you know how I respect and regard you, Browning"s wife and Penini"s mother; and for what I am going to do I most humbly ask your pardon."
My girls send their very best regards and remembrances, and I am, dear Mrs. Browning,
Always yours,
W.M. THACKERAY.
Mrs. Browning"s answer follows.
_To W.M. Thackeray_
Rome, 126 Via Felice: April 21, [1861].
Dear Mr. Thackeray,--Pray consider the famous "tooth" (a wise tooth!) as extracted under chloroform, and no pain suffered by anybody.
To prove that I am not sulky, I send another contribution, which may prove too much, perhaps--and, if you think so, dispose of the supererogatory virtue by burning the ma.n.u.script, as I am sure I may rely on your having done with the last.
I confess it, dear Mr. Thackeray, never was anyone turned out of a room for indecent behaviour in a more gracious and conciliatory manner! Also, I confess that from your "Cornhill" standpoint (paterfamilias looking on) you are probably right ten times over. From mine, however, I may not be wrong, and I appeal to you as the deep man you are, whether it is not the higher mood, which on Sunday bears with the "plain word," so offensive on Monday, during the cheating across the counter? I am not a "fast woman." I don"t like coa.r.s.e subjects, or the coa.r.s.e treatment of any subject. But I am deeply convinced that the corruption of our society requires not shut doors and windows, but light and air: and that it is exactly because pure and prosperous women choose to _ignore_ vice, that miserable women suffer wrong by it everywhere. Has paterfamilias, with his Oriental traditions and veiled female faces, very successfully dealt with a certain cla.s.s of evil? What if materfamilias, with her quick sure instincts and honest innocent eyes, do more towards their expulsion by simply looking at them and calling them by their names? See what insolence you put me up to by your kind way of naming my dignities--"Browning"s wife and Penini"s mother."
And I, being vain (turn some people out of a room and you don"t humble them properly), retort with--"materfamilias!"
Our friend Mr. Story has just finished a really grand statue of the "African Sybil." It will place him very high.
Where are you all, Annie, Minnie?--Why don"t you come and see us in Rome?
My husband bids me give you his kind regards, and I shall send Pen"s love with mine to your dear girls.
Most truly yours, ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
We go to Florence in the latter part of May.
Before leaving Florence, however, the following letter was written to Mr. Thackeray, which I quote from the same article by Mrs. Ritchie. The poem alluded to must, however, be "The North and the South,"[101] Mrs.
Browning"s last poem, written with reference to Hans Andersen"s visit to Rome; not "A Musical Instrument," as Mrs. Ritchie suggests, which had been written some time previously.
_To W.M. Thackeray_
Rome, 126 Via Felice: [May 21, 1861].
Dear Mr. Thackeray,--I hope you received my note and last poem. I hope still more earnestly that you won"t think I am putting my spite against your chastening hand into a presumptuous and troublesome fluency.
But Hans Christian Andersen is here, charming us all, and not least the children. So I wrote these verses--not for "Cornhill" this month, of course--though I send them now that they may lie over at your service (if you are so pleased) for some other month of the summer.
We go to Florence on the first of June, and lo! here is the twenty-first of May.
With love to dear Annie and Minny,
I remain, most truly yours, ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
_To Miss I. Blagden_
Rome: Sat.u.r.day, [about May 1861].
Ever dearest Isa,--Now that Robert"s letter is gone, I am able for shame to write. His waiting did not _mean_ a slackness of kindness, but a tightness of entanglement in other things; and then absolutely he has got to the point of doing without reading. Nothing but clay does he care for, poor lost soul. But you will see, I hope, from what he has written (to judge by what he speaks), that he is not so lost as to be untouched by Agnes.[102]...
I send you, dear, two more translations for Dall" Ongaro. You will have given him my former message. I began that letter to him, and was interrupted; and then, considering the shortness of our time here, would not begin another. You will have explained, and will make him thoroughly understand, that in sending him a verbal and literal translation I never thought of exacting such a thing from _him_, but simply of letting him have the advantage of seeing the _raw, naked poetry as it stands_. In fact, my translation is scarcely Italian, I know very well. I mean it for English rather. Conventional and idiomatical Italian forms have been expressly avoided. I have used the Italian as a net to catch the English in for the use of an Italian poet! Let him understand.
We shall be soon in our Florence now. I am rather stronger, but so weak still that my eyes dazzle to think of it. Povera me!