My Friends and Acquaintance
Laman Blanchard V
V.
L. BLANCHARD TO P. G. PATMORE. MISS
BARRETT’S POEMS.—BLACKWOOD’S MAGAZINE.
The following letter relates to a review which Blanchard wrote in the New Monthly
Magazine of my son’s Poems, when they were published as a volume some months afterwards:—
“Dear Patmore,—That you
so feel about the New Monthly
Magazine is most gratifying to me. * * *
*
“—— spoke kindly, yet as if some
tiff with you were in the way, and he despaired of
my pleasing all parties, which was the condition on which I was to have the two or three pages—afterwards extended,
by special note, to three and a half, with a desire that I would take to the
twenty-eighth of the month, rather than hurry or spoil it. * *
“I took care, under the circumstances, to
put my
objections as strong as I
honestly could, as I was anxious that it should not look like a partial and
compromised notice.
B——’s letter
satisfied C. that what I said in eulogy was tame and
modest in comparison. That letter I was about to return when you wrote. It is
all that was to be expected from such a mind and such a heart as his; and I
feel happy in the thought that
Coventry
secures in him a valuable friend and adviser. * * *
“You may tell Coventry that I have, for the first time, been reading
Miss Barrett’s poems—one at
least—and am raving about her. I thought her a pretender—God forgive me! Pray
give my sincere regards to Mrs. Patmore.
“Yours ever,
“L. Blanchard.”
My son had been speaking to him about Miss
Barrett’s (now Mrs.
Browning’s) poetry at our last meeting. That exclamation—(“God
forgive me!”)—is as beautiful and expressive in itself as it is characteristic of the
writer; for Blanchard had a love and
reverence nothing less than religious for true poetry; it was the
chief “means of salvation” to which he resorted when feeling himself (as he so
often did) sold into the slavery of the actual world.
Even his own little volume—or rather the memory of it—though he attached
anything but a high and exaggerated value to it, was worn like a secret talisman about his
heart, to charm away the demon of Reality, to whose service he felt himself bound, body and
soul.
And it must be observed here, with a view to what I have noted above, that
with all his happy art of adapting himself to the circumstances and exigencies of his
worldly position, they never ceased to press upon him; for his power of escaping them was
an art, not the result of natural temperament; so that when real trials and troubles came
he (alas!) sank beneath them.
The two following letters must be allowed to speak for themselves:—
“My dear Patmore,—When your
note came I had just written to you, stating my
total
ignorance of there being a notice in
Blackwood. I have since written to
Coventry. But it now strikes me that I ought instantly to have
replied to one allusion in your letter, though you put no question direct. If
you suppose that the person you mention has
directly or
indirectly the remotest share in the attack, the suspicion is
flagrantly and monstrously wrong. I will engage to swear that he is as innocent
of any the least knowledge of it as you are. There is another person who, as a
friend of ——, I may suppose you to have in your mind. I
can say as much, or almost, for him. You must hunt in a totally opposite
quarter. The thing itself I have not allowed myself to see. The last bitter
outrage on
Procter was my sickener.
“Ever yours truly,
“L. B.
“I do hope you are not allowing it to have more than
its natural momentary effect on you. Injury it cannot do, except to your
own feelings, which I allow for being ten times stronger of course than if
you were ostensibly the person assailed.”
“Dear Patmore,—There is
reason to conclude I believe that —— is not the actual
writer. Who is I have not yet learned, but he will get
preciously slated for his pains. I was with Hunt and Procter last
night, whose feelings on the subject are very strong, and seems quite
indisposed to let the thing pass. I understood that he quite intends to notice
it—and is considering how best to do so. —— tells me he
means to scarify the wretch—I think, in ‘Punch.’ It has excited great indignation among
us all.
“Yours ever,
“With kindest regards to Mrs. Patmore,
“L. Blanchard.”
Samuel Laman Blanchard (1803-1845)
Essayist, poet, journalist, and editor of the
Monthly Magazine; he
died a suicide. Leigh Hunt and Charles Dickens were among his many literary friends.
Elizabeth Browning [née Barrett] (1806-1861)
English poet, author of
Sonnets from the Portuguese (1850) and
Aurora Leigh (1856); she married Robert Browning in 1846.
James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784-1859)
English poet, journalist, and man of letters; editor of
The
Examiner and
The Liberal; friend of Byron, Keats, and
Shelley.
Peter George Patmore [Tims] (1786-1855)
English writer and friend of Charles Lamb and Leigh Hunt; an early contributor to
Blackwood's, he was John Scott's second in the fatal duel, editor of
the
Court Journal, and father of the poet Coventry Patmore.
Bryan Waller Procter [Barry Cornwall] (1787-1874)
English poet; a contemporary of Byron at Harrow, and friend of Leigh Hunt and Charles
Lamb. He was the author of several volumes of poem and
Mirandola, a
tragedy (1821).
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine. (1817-1980). Begun as the
Edinburgh Monthly Magazine,
Blackwood's assumed the name of its proprietor, William Blackwood after the sixth
number. Blackwood was the nominal editor until 1834.
New Monthly Magazine. (1814-1884). Founded in reaction to the radically-inclined
Monthly Magazine,
the
New Monthly was managed under the proprietorship of Henry
Colburn from 1814 to 1845. It was edited by Thomas Campbell and Cyrus Redding from
1821-1830.