The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1899-03-19

breathe) that l had stood blind in this
temple was about to leave-that hau
seen no human nature, that my brothers
and sisters of the earth were names 10
me; that l had beheld no great mountain
or river, nothing, in fact. 1 was as
man dying who had not read Shakes
peare, and it was too late. DO you I'M
derstand?
And do you also know what a disado
vantage this ignorance is to my art?
Why. if 1 live on and yet do not escape
from this seclusion, do you not perceive
that l labor under signal disadvantages
that I am, in manner, as blind poet?
Certainly there is a compensation to a
degree. 1 have had much of the inner
life, and from the habit of self-conscious-
ness and self-analysis | have made great
guesses at human nature in the main.
But how willingly / would, as a poet, ex-
change some. of this numbering, ponder
Gus, helpless knowledge of books for some
experience of life and man."
Browning In reply urges that all you
gain from society and travel is the dis,
have done rightly in trusting your innate
ideas-or not rightly in distrustfng them,
as the case may be.
The letters follow in their order and
show how the poet and poetess grew
closer and closer in their sentiments, I'M
til they met and courted.
Here is a charming passage in which
Browning attempts to elucidate his feel
ings for his fancee: Now, love, do be-
lieve-now, when I am utterly blest In
this gift of your love, and least able to
cannot but believe. l say, that had you
given me once a refusal clearly derived
from your own feelings and quite apart
from any fancied consideration for my in
terests-had this come upon me, whether
slowly but inevitably in the course of
events, or suddenly as precipitated by
any step of mine-I should, believing you,
have never again renewed directly or in
directly such solicitation; | should have
begun to count how many other ways
were yet open to serve you and devote
myself to yOu-but from the outside now
and not in your livery! For your own
part in that matter, seeing it with all
the light you have since given me land
then not inadequately by my own lighD,
letter in your name, bless you with my
whole heart and soul if l could pour them
out, from me, before you, to stay and
be yours; when l think on your motives
and pure, perfect generosity.
1t was on September u, 1876 that all
deception came to an end with the pri-
Vate marriage at st. Marylebone Parish
Church of Elizabeth Barrett to Robert
notes the gossip, Miss Milford Never
was l so much astonished. He prevailed
on her to meet him at church with only
the two necessary witnesses. They went
by rail to Southampton, crossed to Havre,
up the Seine to Rouen, to Paris by rail-
way. Here they stayed a week. Happen
ing to meet with Mrs Jameson, she Joined
them in their journey to Pisa
AT Pisa the couple remained six months,
and then settled in Florence. 1t may be
added that Mr.. Barrett never forgave his
daughters preference of her lover and
husband for him, Notwithstanding all ap-
peals At Casa Guidi in Florence, made
famous by her sonnets. her son, her own
young Florentine, Robert Barrett Brown
ing. now the painter and sculptor, was
born on March 8, 1919, two and a half
years after her marriage: At Casa Guidi
Mrs Browning died in 1861. Harper Broth
ers publishers, New York.