The Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Barrett, Vol. 1 (of 2) 1845-1846 by Robert Browning
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page 29 of 695 (04%)
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the bull's eye and the true features of the case, ten times out of
twelve! But _you_ are different. _You_ are to be made out by the comparative anatomy system. You have thrown out fragments of _os_ ... _sublime_ ... indicative of soul-mammothism--and you live to develop your nature,--_if_ you live. That is easy and plain. You have taken a great range--from those high faint notes of the mystics which are beyond personality ... to dramatic impersonations, gruff with nature, 'gr-r-r- you swine'; and when these are thrown into harmony, as in a manner they are in 'Pippa Passes' (which I could find in my heart to covet the authorship of, more than any of your works--), the combinations of effect must always be striking and noble--and you must feel yourself drawn on to such combinations more and more. But I do not, you say, know yourself--you. I only know abilities and faculties. Well, then, teach me yourself--you. I will not insist on the knowledge--and, in fact, you have not written the R.B. poem yet--your rays fall obliquely rather than directly straight. I see you only in your moon. Do tell me all of yourself that you can and will ... before the R.B. poem comes out. And what is 'Luria'? A poem and not a drama? I mean, a poem not in the dramatic form? Well! I have wondered at you sometimes, not for daring, but for bearing to trust your noble works into the great mill of the 'rank, popular' playhouse, to be ground to pieces between the teeth of vulgar actors and actresses. I, for one, would as soon have 'my soul among lions.' 'There is a fascination in it,' says Miss Mitford, and I am sure there must be, to account for it. Publics in the mass are bad enough; but to distil the dregs of the public and baptise oneself in that acrid moisture, where can be the temptation? I could swear by Shakespeare, as was once sworn 'by those dead at Marathon,' that I do not see where. I love the drama too. I look to our old dramatists as to our Kings and princes in poetry. I love them through all the deeps of their abominations. But the theatre |
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