Excerpt from The Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Barrett, 1845-1846, Vol. 2 of 2: With Portraits and Facsimiles You were right to bid me never again wish my poor flowers were 'diamonds' - you could not, I think, speak so to my heart of any diamonds. God knows my life is for you to take just as you take flowers: - these last please you, serve you best when plucked - and 'my life's rose'.. if I dared profane that expression I would say, you have but to 'stoop' for it. Foolish, as all words are. You dwell on that notion of your being peculiarly isolated, - of any kindness to you, in your present state, seeming doubled and quadrupled - what do I, what could anyone infer from that but, most obviously, that it was a very fortunate thing for such kindness, and that the presumable bestower of it got all his distinction from the fact that no better.. however, I hate this and cannot go on. Dearest, believe that under ordinary circumstances, with ordinary people, all operates differently - the imaginary kindness-bestower with his ideal methods of showing and proving his love, - there would be the rival to fear!
Robert Browning (1812-1889) was a British poet and playwright whose mastery of dramatic verse, especially dramatic monologues, made him one of the foremost Victorian poets.
Browning began writing poetry at age 13. These poems were eventually collected, but were later destroyed by Browning himself. In 1833, Browning's "Pauline" was published and received a cool reception. Harold Bloom believes that John Stuart Mill's review of the poem pointed Browning in the direction of the dramatic monologue.
In 1845, Browning wrote a letter to the poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning, professing that he loved her poetry and her. In 1846, the couple eloped to Europe, eventually settling in Florence in 1847. They had a son Pen.
Upon Elizabeth Barrett Browning's death in 1861, Browning returned to London with his son. While in London, he published Dramatis Personae (1864) and The Ring and the Book (1869), both of which gained him critical priase and respect. His last book Asolando was published in 1889 when the poet was 77.
In 1889, Browning traveled to Italy to visit friends. He died in Venice on December 12 while visiting his sister.
I was gifted with both volumes of the letters between these wonderful poets, and though I've not quite finished sip reading this one, I'm going to laying it aside and count this volume as read for now.
This continues the journey we embarked upon with these two in the first volume of the letters and it's still lovely to spend time with them as they grow together in love and friendship and forge a path forward.