Literary Love Letters: A Sensational Courtship of Correspondence
Sonnet 43
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely as men strive for right.
I love thee purely as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears of all my life, and if God choose,
I shall love thee better after death.
— Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets of the Portuguese
Elizabeth Mouton-Barrett – Early Life
Elizabeth Mouton-Barrett was born to Edward and Mary (formerly Graham Clarke) Mouton-Barrett on 6 March 1806 in County Durham and baptized in the first week of her life (Stone). She was the oldest of twelve children (Encyclopedia Brittanica) — eight boys and four girls, all of whom lived to adulthood except one girl who died at 3-years-old (Stone). The family moved in 1809 to a 500-acre estate in Ledbury, Herefordshire called Hope End (Encyclopedia Britannica). Here, Elizabeth engaged in typical well-to-do family activities such as meals, walks, household play productions and concerts (Stone). One of the opportunities afforded to her by country living was horseback riding which she quite enjoyed (Encyclopedia Britannica). She is said to have started writing verses at the age of four (“Elizabeth Barrett Browning: An Introduction”). Educated at home by a tutor, Elizabeth displayed a penchant for the study of literature; by eight-years-old she had read Homer (in the original Greek) and then set out to write her own epic, The Battle of Marathon, A Poem. In 1819, her father printed 50 copies of the epic poem. In 1821, Elizabeth contracted a nervous condition (some have speculated its origins to be rooted in a spinal injury connected with riding) characterized by a generalized weakness, frequent headaches and fainting spells (Encyclopedia Britannia). When Elizabeth was 20, her mother contracted a fatal illness and her father began to lose his money (and eventually much of his estate). After Mary Mouton-Barrett’s death, the family moved to London.
In 1838, they settled at 50 Wimpole Street. From her London residence, Elizabeth’s literary circle widened and she published The Seraphim and Other Poems (1838). These were the first collections she published under her own name (unlike her previous An Essay On The Mind with Other Peoms (1826) and Prometheus Bound (1833)) (Encyclopedia Britannica). During her stay at Wimpole Street, Elizabeth’s doctors ordered a time of rest by the seaside. She moved temporarily to a resort with her brother Edward who drowned(!) after they had had a disagreement. Rather than the seaside environment helping her health, her shock and sorrow at a death connected to the seaside environment caused Elizabeth’s illness to worsen. As a result, she remained in her bedroom at Wimpole Street for the next five years, only receiving a small circle of family members and close friends as guests (Encyclopedia Britannica). In 1840, she published Poems (also under her own name) and it was this collection that prompted Robert Browning to first write to her.
Robert Browning – Early Life
Robert Browning was born on 7 May 1812 to Robert and Sarah Anna Wiedermann Browning, he was an only child (Poetry Foundation). Robert Browning the elder was a bank clerk and intellectual with an extensive library to his name and Sarah Anna was a deeply pious woman with a love of music; the intellectual, musical and prayerful tendencies of his parents doubtless shaped Robert’s poetic tendencies. HIs father introduced Robert to Alexander Pope’s translation of the Illiad which interested him so much that he learned Greek in order to read it in its original language (Poetry Foundation). Robert and Anna were intellectually, emotionally and financially supportive of their son’s childhood dream of becoming a poet, they published his first piecesPauline, A Fragment of a Confession (1833) and Peracelsus (1835). Father and son also produced variations on the same theme in their individual works entitled, “The Pied Piper”; Robert the younger never considered this a great work but it gained recognition among critics and scholars of his day, and remains popular in children’s school books today (Poetry Foundation). His collection Dramatic Lyrics captured Elizabeth Moulton-Barrett’s attention shortly before the two began their correspondence.
The Letters
Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett exchanged 574 letters between 10 January 1845 and 18 September 1846. These letters provide a detailed account of their courtship which began as mutual literary admiration.
The Literary
So begins Robert’s first letter to Elizabeth. Clearly he was deeply moved by her “genius” expressed in her “living poetry,” and to describe a poem as alive is among the highest compliments that I think can be given. Poetry requires engagement of the intellect on the part of the poet, the mind and voice on the part of the reader or speaker. Poetry is meant to be a person-to-person lending of voices and sharing of stories. That Robert describes Elizabeth’s poems as having accomplished precisely that quality of animation is perhaps the highest compliment one poet can give to another.
Noteworthy also is Robert’s articulation of his personal response to her work, “I love your poems with all my heart,” that is a bold and intense claim, especially as the opening line of a first letter! If sharing one’s emotions with another is a vulnerable act, he has situated himself from the start in a most susceptible position. He goes on to describe himself as having “flush[ed] with delight”. Blushing is very interesting in that it is a sort of crossroads between emotional and physiological responses (just as genuine laughter or fear is at the crossroads between emotional and bodily response), this phenomenon was likely interesting to the Victorians. Clearly Robert was deeply impressed.
He goes on to describe himself as “a faithful fellow-craftsman” in relation to her (as they are both poets and artists). Instead of following the common narrative of the Victorian era that men were inherently intellectually superior to women and generally experienced the world quite differently, Robert here places himself and Elizabeth on equal footing on the shared ground of artistry. It would seem rather a contradiction to praise her “genius” while nevertheless placing her beneath him in the artistic hierarchy, and so he elevates her (from the common narrative) to genius and equal.
Without delay, a day later, Elizabeth responded —
____________
Elizabeth at first situates “gratitude and sympathy” in a historical context (“from Tyre to Carthage”) extending into the present, describing the combination as “princely” which gives the impression of high esteem and value. She goes on to ask for the honor of a small amount of criticism from him “(I do not think of troubling you with criticism in detail)” stating that such a response from him would “confer a lasting obligation” on her. In this succinct and clever way, she invites both a literary and personal friendship. Sharing criticism is a common and respected form of communication within literary circles, but that Elizabeth highlights that such an action on his part will confer on her a lasting obligation seems to imply a desire for lasting friendship. She goes on to assert that she might not blindly “obey” all of his suggestions, but that she has “high respect” for his “power… and experience as an artist.” Here, she clearly meets his proposition of their connecting as artists.
She states, as only a writer on the verge of falling in love could, “I have learnt to know your voice, not merely from poetry but from the kindness in it.” This is a striking line because it articulates her responsiveness to him both as a writer worthy of admiration or study and as a friend known by his kindness. It is interesting that her knowledge of his voice comes only from the written word, though she describes in this letter a twinge of sadness at having missed his visit (mentioned in his first letter), that, “It is not my interest however to put such thoughts in your head about its’ being “all for the best”!—& I would rather hope (as I do) that what I lost by one chance I may recover by some future one.” There seems here to be a relationship between her knowledge of his kind writerly voice and her wish to experience the in-person sound of his voice. The parallel of relationship between writerly and spoken voices is not hard to draw, and surely one that she wrote with the intention of him drawing.
Sensation: Public and Private
Just one word to say that if Saturday, tomorrow, shd be fine, because in the case of its raining I shall not expect you — you will find me at three o’clock.–
Yes, circumstances of the costume were mentioned in the letter,– Mr. Rogers’ bagwig & the rest, and David Wilkie’s sword!– & also that the Laureate, so equipped, fell down upon both knees in the superfluity of etiquette, & had to be picked up by two lords in waiting. It is a large exaggeration I do not doubt — and yet I never sympathized with the sighing kept up by people about that acceptance of the Laureateship which drew the bagwig as a corollary after it. Not that the Laureateship honored him, but that he honored it; & that, so honoring it, he preserves a symbol instructive to the masses, who are children & and to be taught by symbols now as formerly. Isn’t it true? or at least may it not be true? And won’t the court laurel such as it is be all the worthier of you for Wordsworth’s having won it first?
And in the meantime I shall see you tomorrow perhaps? or if it should rain, on Monday at the same hour? Ever yours my dear friend, EBB
________
Here, Elizabeth describes William Wordsworth‘s reception of the honor of England’s Poet Laureateship in 1843 (which he maintained until his death in 1850) and her belief that the honor befits Robert, “And won’t the court laurel such as it is be all the worthier of you for Wordsworth’s having won it first?” A fascinating juxtaposition of the public and private (a key element of the Victorian Era) exists in this letter in the juxtaposition of the London Literary Circle at large and Elizabeth’s confinement to the home. She is at once well aware of major local events of interest (Wordsworth’s honor) and yet it is Robert who must necessarily come to visit her. An interesting dialogue between public and private also exists in the fact that Elizabeth “shall not expect [him]” if it should rain on the planned date!
It is noteworthy that she signs her initials (a mark of informality) after the words, “Ever yours my dear friend,” — obviously a quite familiar and loving relationship has grown to exist through their writing.
Literary Love
21 December 1845
By the time of the writing of this letter, their relationship has visibly grown into a sincere romance, and still a literary one (because that is the framework of their mutual respect and identity). Robert writes, “I have your memory, the knowledge of you, the idea of you printed into my heart and brain, -on that I can live my life,- but it is for you, the dear, utterly generous creature I know you, to give me more and more, beyond mere life, to extend life and deepen it as you do, and will do. Oh, how I love you when I think of the entire truthfulness of your generosity to me…” He not only describes himself as cherishing the memory of Elizabeth, but that the idea of her is “printed into [his] heart”. Artists, and especially writers, find meaning-making and livelihood in the printed word, but here he extends the metaphor to the personal sphere of a memory printed on the heart. He echoes the artistic love of the ages, stretching their love “beyond mere life” into the realms of immortality (and probably heaven), which, as Shakespeare suggests, can also be accomplished through writing. Their love is literary through and through.
They continued correspondence, an exchange of poetic criticism and growing in loving knowledge of each other. They eventually met and ultimately fell in love.
Wedding
Robert and Elizabeth Browning secretly married on 12 September 1846. After the ceremony, they parted ways and continued to reside at their respective homes for the next week (Encyclopedia Britannica). Elizabeth did not tell her father of their marriage during the week that followed. Edward Mouton-Barrett enacted an extreme form of parental protectionism over his children, perhaps because he thought the husbands of his daughters could not hope to provide the level of material comfort to which they were accustomed (The Brownings Correspondence). Elizabeth’s brother George succinctly explains Edward’s position in a letter to Robert Browning dated 24 December 1888, “Our father was kind & tenderly attached to his children, in excess indeed as he could not bear the idea of a profession or marriage that would bring separation.” As a result of the marriage, as with all of his other children who married (The Brownings Correspondence), Edward promptly disowned Elizabeth.
Marriage, Writing and Death
The couple moved to Florence, Italy. Married life and the Mediterranean climate caused Elizabeth’s health to improve to such a degree that she was able to conceive and carry a child. She gave birth to Robert Wiederman Barrett Browning on 9 March 1849 (Encyclopedia Britannica). In 1850, Elizabeth published a second edition of Poems which included, at her husband’s suggestion, her collection of Sonnets to the Portuguese. In 1856 she published her famous Aurora Leigh poem. She sought to respond to the political turmoil of Italy with her 1851 Casa Guidi Windows and her 1860 Poems Before Congress These works were written to ascertain sympathy for the contemporary Italian cause of unity and independence. Robert wrote next to nothing in their marriage as he devoted himself instead to the care of Elizabeth (as her health continued to be frail, though generally improved) and the education of their son (Poetry Foundation) Also noteworthy is that the couple’s letter writing days were confined entirely to their courtship and ended when their married life began.
Elizabeth died on 29 June 1861 in Robert’s arms. Robert died on 12 December 1889.
Sources:
Bella Voce Young Women’s Choir, “How Do I Love Thee?” Chicago, IL.
Bella Voce Young Women’s Choir
How Do I Love Thee? Loosely based on Sonnet 43
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