The Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Barrett, Vol. 1 (of 2) 1845-1846 by Robert Browning
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page 19 of 695 (02%)
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true, as others say, that the productions of an artist do not partake
of his real nature, ... that in the minor sense, man is not made in the image of God? It is _not_ true, to my mind--and therefore it is not true that I know little of you, except in as far as it is true (which I believe) that your greatest works are to come. Need I assure you that I shall always hear with the deepest interest every word you will say to me of what you are doing or about to do? I hear of the 'old room' and the '"Bells" lying about,' with an interest which you may guess at, perhaps. And when you tell me besides, of _my poems being there_, and of your caring for them so much beyond the tide-mark of my hopes, the pleasure rounds itself into a charm, and prevents its own expression. Overjoyed I am with this cordial sympathy--but it is better, I feel, to try to justify it by future work than to thank you for it now. I think--if I may dare to name myself with you in the poetic relation--that we both have high views of the Art we follow, and stedfast purpose in the pursuit of it, and that we should not, either of _us_, be likely to be thrown from the course, by the casting of any Atalanta-ball of speedy popularity. But I do not know, I cannot guess, whether you are liable to be pained deeply by hard criticism and cold neglect, such as original writers like yourself are too often exposed to--or whether the love of Art is enough for you, and the exercise of Art the filling joy of your life. Not that praise must not always, of necessity, be delightful to the artist, but that it may be redundant to his content. Do you think so? or not? It appears to me that poets who, like Keats, are highly susceptible to criticism, must be jealous, in their own persons, of the future honour of their works. Because, if a work is worthy, honour must follow it, though the worker should not live to see that following overtaking. Now, is it not enough that the work be honoured--enough I mean, for the worker? And is it not enough to keep down a poet's ordinary wearing anxieties, to |
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