In the advertised 'Blackwood,' do you see an article called 'Poetic Aberration'? It came into my head that it might be a stone thrown at me, and Robert went to Monaldini's to glance at it. Sure enough it is a stone. He says a violent attack. And let me do him justice. It was only the misstatement in the 'Athenaeum' which overset him, only the first fire which made him wink. Now he turns a hero's face to all this cannonading. He doesn't care a straw, he says, and what's more, he doesn't, really. So I, who was only sorry for him, can't care. Observe, Isa, if there had been less violence and more generosity, the poems would obviously have been less deserved.

The English were not always so thin-skinned. Lord Byron and Moore have....

[_The rest of the letter is lost_]

_To Miss I. Blagden_

Rome: April 2, [1860].

Ever dearest Isa,--Here are the letters! I am sorry I wrote rashly yesterday; but from an expression of yours I took for granted that the packet went by the post; and I have been really very anxious about it.

No, Isa; I don't like the tone of these letters so well. I can understand that what is said of Belgium and the Rhine provinces is in the event of a certain coalition and eventual complication, but it doesn't do, even in a thought and theory, to sacrifice a country like Belgium. I respect France, and 'l'idee Napoleonienne'; yes, but conscience and the populations more.

As to Napoleon's waiting for the bribe of Savoy before he would pa.s.s beyond Villafranca, this is making him ign.o.ble; and I do not believe it in the least. Also it contradicts the letter-writer's previous letter, in which he said that Savoy had been from the beginning the _sous entendre_ of Venetia. No, I can see that an Italy in unity, a great newly const.i.tuted nation, might be reasonably asked by her liberator to shift her frontier from beyond the Alps, but for Victor Emmanuel to be expected at Milan to put his hand into his pocket and pay, without completion of facts, or consultation of peoples, this would be to 'faire le marchand' indeed, and I could write no odes to a man who could act so. I don't sell my soul to Napoleon, and applaud him _quand meme_. But absolutely I disbelieve in this version, Isa. If the war had not stopped at Villafranca, it would have been European; _that_, if not clear at the time, is clear now--clear from the official statement of Prussia. By putting diplomacy in the place of the war, a great deal was absolutely attained, besides a better standpoint for a renewal of the war, should that be necessary. 'Hence those tears'--of Villafranca!

The letter-writer is very keen, and evidently hears a good deal, while he selects after his own judgment. _I_ am glad to hear that 'L'Opinion Nationale' represents the efficient power. That's comfortable. What's to be done next in the south here rests with _us_, it seems. But what of the occupation of Rome? And what is the meaning of Lamoriciere being here 'with the consent of the Emperor'? Lamoriciere can mean no good either to the French Government or to Italy; and the Emperor knows it well.

My dearest Isa, let us make haste to say that of course I shall be glad to let my book be used as is proposed. How will we get a copy to M.

Fauvety? I enclose an order to Chapman and Hall which M. Dall'

Ongaro[83] may enclose to his friend, who must enclose it on to England, with a letter conveying his address in Paris. Then the book may be sent by the _book post_. Wouldn't that do?

I shall give a copy to Dall' Ongaro (when I can get a supply), and one for the Trollopes also, never forgetting dear Kate! (and I do expect copies through the emba.s.sy) but I have not seen a word of the book yet.

I only know that, being Caesar's wife, I am not merely 'suspected' (poor wife!), but dishonored before the 'Athenaeum' world as an unnatural vixen, who, instead of staying at home and spinning wool, stays at home[84] and curses her own land. 'It is my own, my native land!' If, indeed, I had gone abroad and cursed other people's lands, there would have been no objection. That poem, as addressed to America, has always been considered rather an amiable and domestic trait on my part. But England! Heavens and earth! What a crime! The very suspicion of it is guilt.

The fact is, between you and me, Isa, certain of those quoted stanzas do '_fit_' England 'as if they were made for her,' which they were _not_, though....

According to your letters, Venetia seems pushed off into the future a little, don't you think?

Still, they are interesting, very. Get Dall' Ongaro to remember me in future. The details about Antonelli shall go to him. I am delighted at the idea of being translated by him....

Write to me, my dearly loved Isa. You who are true! let me touch you!

Yours ever from the heart BA.

_To Miss I. Blagden_

28 Via del Tritone: Monday and Tuesday [April 1860].

Ever dearest Isa,--I send you under this enclosure an abstract of some papers given to me by somebody who can't be named, with a sketch of Antonelli. I wasn't allowed to copy; I was only to abstract. But everything is in. The whole has been verified and may be absolutely relied on, I hear. So long I have waited for them. Should I have translated them into Italian, I wonder? Or can Dall' Ongaro get to the bottom of them so? Dates of birth are not mentioned, I observe. From another quarter I may get those. About has the character of romancing a little.

Not a word do you say of your health. Do another time. Remember that your previous letter left you in bed.

Dearest Isa, how it touched me, your putting away the 'Sat.u.r.day Review'!

But dear, don't care more for me than I do for myself. That very Review, lent to us, _we_ lent to the Storys. Dear, the abuse of the press is the justification of the poems; so don't be reserved about these attacks. I was a little, little vexed by a letter this morning from my brother George; but _pazienza_, we must bear these things.

Robert called yesterday on Odo Russell, who observed to him that the article in the 'Sat.u.r.day Review' was infamous, and that the general tone of the newspaper had grown to be so offensive, he should cease to take it in. (Not on my account, observe.) 'But,' said Mr. Russell, 'it's extraordinary, the sensation your wife's book has made. Every paper I see has something to say about it,' added he; 'it is curious. The offence has been less in the objections to England than in the praise of Napoleon. Certainly Monckton Milnes said a good thing when he was asked lately in Paris what, after all, you English wanted. "_We want_" he answered, "_first, that the Austrians should beat you French thoroughly; next, we want that the Italians should be free, and then we want them to be very grateful to us for doing nothing towards it._" This, concluded Russell, 'sums up the whole question.' Mark, he is very English, but he can't help seeing what lies before him, having quick perceptions, moreover. Then men have no courage. Milnes, for instance, keeps his sarcasm for Paris, and in England supports his rifle club and all Parliamentary decencies.

Mind you read 'Blackwood.' Though I was rather vexed by George's letter (he is awfully vexed) I couldn't help laughing at my sister Henrietta, who accepts the interpretation of the 'Athenaeum' (having read the poems) and exclaims, 'But, oh, Ba, such dreadful curses!'...

Mrs. Apthorp has arrived, but I have not seen her nor received the paper. Pins were right, though I should have liked some smaller.

'Monitores' arrived up at the 12. Beyond, nothing. I hear that Mr.

Apthorp was struck with the 'brilliant conversation between you and Miss Cobbe.' You made an impression too, on Mrs. Apthorp.

Oh, Isa, how I should like to be with you in our Florence to-day. Yes, yes, I think of you. Here the day is gloomy, and with a sprinkling now and then of rain. I trust you may have more sun. G.o.d bless the city and the hills, and the people who dwell therein!

I have just sent a lyric to Thackeray for his magazine.[85] He begged me for something long ago. Robert suggested that _now_ he probably wanted nothing from such profane hands. So I told him that in that case he might send me back my ma.n.u.scripts. In the more favorable case it may be still too late for this month. The poem is 'meek as maid,' though the last thing I wrote--no touch of 'Deborah'--'_A Musical Instrument_.' How good this 'Cornhill Magazine' is! Anthony Trollope is really superb.[86]

I only just got leave from Robert to send something: he is so averse to the periodicals as mediums....

Lamoriciere's arrival produces a painful sensation among the people here; and the withdrawal of the French troops has become most unpopular.

I am anxious. If the Emperor has consented to his coming, it was pure magnanimity, and very characteristic; but the _cost of this_ should be paid by France and not Italy, we must feel besides. I am content about Savoy.

Dearest Isa, you and your 'Sat.u.r.day Reviewer' shall have Robert's portrait. Are you sure he didn't ask for _mine_? How good you are to us and Landor! G.o.d bless you, says

Your tenderly loving BA.

_To Mr. Chorley_

28 Via del Tritone, Rome: April 13, [1860].

My dear Mr. Chorley,--It is always better to be frank than otherwise; sometimes it is necessary to be frank--that is when one would fain keep a friend, yet has a thing against him which burns in one. I shall put my foot on this spark in a moment; but first I must throw it out of my heart you see, and here it is.

Dearest Mr. Chorley, you have not been just to me in the matter of my 'Poems before Congress.' Why have you not been just to me? You are an honest man and my friend. Those two things might go together. Your opinions, critical or political, are free from stress of friendship. I never expected from you favor or mercy _because_ you were my friend (it would have been unworthy of us both) but I did expect justice from you, _although_ you were my friend. That is reasonable.

And I consider that as a conscientious critic you were bound to read through the whole of the 'rhyme' called 'A Curse for a Nation' before ticketing it for the public, and I complain that after neglecting to do so and making a mistake in consequence, you refused the poor amends of printing my letter in full. A loose paragraph like this found to-day in your 'Athenaeum' about Mrs. Browning 'wishing to state' that the 'Curse'

was levelled at America _quoad_ negro-slavery, and the satisfaction of her English readers in this correction of what was 'generally thought'; as if Mrs. Browning 'stated' it arbitrarily (perhaps from fright) and as if the poem stated nothing distinctly, and as if the intention of it _could_ be 'generally thought' what the 'Athenaeum' critic took it to be, except by following his lead or adopting his process of a general skipping of half the said poem--this loose paragraph does not cover a great fault, it seems to me. Well, I have spoken.

As to the extent of the 'general thought,' we cannot, of course judge here, where it is so difficult to get access to periodicals. We have seen, however, two virulent articles from enemies in 'Blackwood' and the 'Sat.u.r.day Review,' the latter sparing none of its native mud through three columns; _not_ to speak of a renewal of the charge in several political articles with a most flattering persistency. Both these writers (being enemies) keep clear of the 'general thought' suggested by a friend, and accepted indeed by friendly and generous reviewers in the 'Atlas' and 'Daily News.' Therefore I feel perfectly unaggrieved by all the enemies' hard words. They speak from their own point of view, and have a right to speak.

In fact, in printing the poems, I did not expect to help my reputation in England, but simply to deliver my soul, to get the relief to my conscience and heart, which comes from a pent-up word spoken or a tear shed. Whatever I may have ever written of the least worth has represented a conviction in me, something in me felt as a truth. I never wrote to please any of you, not even to please my own husband. Every genuine artist in the world (whatever his degree) goes to heaven for speaking the truth. It is one of the beat.i.tudes of art, and attainable without putting off the flesh.

To be plain, and not mystical, it is obvious that if I had expected compliments and caresses from the English press to my 'Poems before Congress,' the said poems would have been little deserved in England, and a greater mistake on my part than any committed by the 'Athenaeum,'

which is saying much.

There! I have done. The spark is under my shoe. If in 'losing my temper'

I have 'lost my music,' don't let it be said that I have lost my friend by my own fault and choice also.

For I would not willingly lose him, though he should be unjust to me thrice, instead of this once throughout our intercourse. Affectionately yours, dear Mr. Chorley,

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.