Robert Browning - The Complete Works of Robert Browning - Poems, Plays, Letters & Biographies in One Edition

This summer he merely went to St. Moritz, where he and his sister were, for the greater part of their stay, again guests of Mrs. Bloomfield Moore. He was determined to give the London winter a fuller trial in the more promising circumstances of his new life, and there was much to be done in De Vere Gardens after his return. His father’s six thousand books, together with those he had himself accumulated, were for the first time to be spread out in their proper array, instead of crowding together in rows, behind and behind each other. The new bookcases, which could stand in the large new study, were waiting to receive them. He did not know until he tried to fulfil it how greatly the task would tax his strength. The library was, I believe, never completely arranged.

During this winter of 1887-8 his friends first perceived that a change had come over him. They did not realize that his life was drawing to a close; it was difficult to do so when so much of the former elasticity remained; when he still proclaimed himself ‘quite well’ so long as he was not definitely suffering. But he was often suffering; one terrible cold followed another. There was general evidence that he had at last grown old. He, however, made no distinct change in his mode of life. Old habits, suspended by his longer imprisonments to the house, were resumed as soon as he was set free. He still dined out; still attended the private view of every, or almost every art exhibition. He kept up his unceasing correspondence — in one or two cases voluntarily added to it; though he would complain day after day that his fingers ached from the number of hours through which he had held his pen. One of the interesting letters of this period was written to Mr. George Bainton, of Coventry, to be used, as that gentleman tells me, in the preparation of a lecture on the ‘Art of Effective Written Composition’. It confirms the statement I have had occasion to make, that no extraneous influence ever permanently impressed itself on Mr. Browning’s style.

29, De Vere Gardens: Oct. 6, ‘87.

Dear Sir, — I was absent from London when your kind letter reached this house, to which I removed some time ago — hence the delay in acknowledging your kindness and replying, in some degree, to your request. All I can say, however, is this much — and very little — that, by the indulgence of my father and mother, I was allowed to live my own life and choose my own course in it; which, having been the same from the beginning to the end, necessitated a permission to read nearly all sorts of books, in a well-stocked and very miscellaneous library. I had no other direction than my parents’ taste for whatever was highest and best in literature; but I found out for myself many forgotten fields which proved the richest of pastures: and, so far as a preference of a particular ‘style’ is concerned, I believe mine was just the same at first as at last. I cannot name any one author who exclusively influenced me in that respect, — as to the fittest expression of thought — but thought itself had many impulsions from very various sources, a matter not to your present purpose. I repeat, this is very little to say, but all in my power — and it is heartily at your service — if not as of any value, at least as a proof that I gratefully feel your kindness, and am, dear Sir Yours very truly, Robert Browning.

In December 1887 he wrote ‘Rosny’, the first poem in ‘Asolando’, and that which perhaps most displays his old subtle dramatic power; it was followed by ‘Beatrice Signorini’ and ‘Flute-Music’. Of the ‘Bad Dreams’ two or three were also written in London, I think, during that winter. The ‘Ponte dell’ Angelo’ was imagined during the next autumn in Venice. ‘White Witchcraft’ had been suggested in the same summer by a letter from a friend in the Channel Islands which spoke of the number of toads to be seen there. In the spring of 1888 he began revising his works for the last, and now entirely uniform edition, which was issued in monthly volumes, and completed by the July of 1889. Important verbal corrections were made in ‘The Inn Album’, though not, I think, in many of the later poems; but that in which he found most room for improvement was, very naturally, ‘Pauline’; and he wrote concerning it to Mr. Smith the following interesting letter.

29, De Vere Gardens, W.: Feb. 27, ‘88.

My dear Smith, — When I received the Proofs of the 1st. vol. on Friday evening, I made sure of returning them next day — so accurately are they printed. But on looking at that unlucky ‘Pauline’, which I have not touched for half a century, a sudden impulse came over me to take the opportunity of just correcting the most obvious faults of expression, versification and construction, — letting the thoughts — such as they are — remain exactly as at first: I have only treated the imperfect expression of these just as I have now and then done for an amateur friend, if he asked me and I liked him enough to do so. Not a line is displaced, none added, none taken away. I have just sent it to the printer’s with an explanatory word: and told him that he will have less trouble with all the rest of the volumes put together than with this little portion. I expect to return all the rest tomorrow or next day.

As for the sketch — the portrait — it admits of no very superior treatment: but, as it is the only one which makes me out youngish, — I should like to know if an artist could not strengthen the thing by a pencil touch or two in a few minutes — improve the eyes, eyebrows, and mouth somewhat. The head too wants improvement: were Pen here he could manage it all in a moment. Ever truly yours, Robert Browning.

Any attempt at modifying the expressed thoughts of his twenty-first year would have been, as he probably felt, a futile tampering with the work of another man; his literary conscience would have forbidden this, if it had been otherwise possible. But he here proves by his own words what I have already asserted, that the power of detail correction either was, or had become by experience, very strong in him.

The history of this summer of 1888 is partly given in a letter to Lady Martin.

29, De Vere Gardens, W.: Aug. 12, ‘88.

Dear Lady Martin, — The date of your kind letter, — June 18, — would affect me indeed, but for the good conscience I retain despite of appearances. So uncertain have I been as to the course we should take, — my sister and myself — when the time came for leaving town, that it seemed as if ‘next week’ might be the eventful week when all doubts would disappear — perhaps the strange cold weather and interminable rain made it hard to venture from under one’s roof even in fancy of being better lodged elsewhere. This very day week it was the old story — cold — then followed the suffocating eight or nine tropical days which forbade any more delay, and we leave tomorrow for a place called Primiero, near Feltre — where my son and his wife assure us we may be comfortably — and coolly — housed, until we can accompany them to Venice, which we may stay at for a short time. You remember our troubles at Llangollen about the purchase of a Venetian house … ? My son, however, nothing daunted, and acting under abler counsels than I was fortunate enough to obtain, *has obtained a still more desirable acquisition, in the shape of the well-known Rezzonico Palace (that of Pope Clement 13th) — and, I believe, is to be congratulated on his bargain. I cannot profess the same interest in this as in the earlier object of his ambition, but am quite satisfied by the evident satisfaction of the ‘young people’. So, — by the old law of compensation, — while we may expect pleasant days abroad — our chance is gone of once again enjoying your company in your own lovely Vale of Llangollen; — had we not been pulled otherwise by the inducements we could not resist, — another term of delightful weeks — each tipped with a sweet starry Sunday at the little church leading to the House Beautiful where we took our rest of an evening spent always memorably — this might have been our fortunate lot once again! As it is, perhaps we need more energetic treatment than we should get with you — for both of us are more oppressed than ever by the exigencies of the lengthy season, and require still more bracing air than the gently lulling temperature of Wales. May it be doing you, and dear Sir Theodore, all the good you deserve — throwing in the share due to us, who must forego it! With all love from us both, ever affectionately yours Robert Browning.