Autograph letter signed : [London], to Richard Hengist Horne, 1843 May 1.

Commenting on Browning, on a request from Lowell for her to publish in his magazine in America, on Tennyson and on Carlyle; saying of Browning "Browning however stands high with me - I want very much to know what you mean by his 'w̲o̲r̲s̲t̲ f̲a̲u̲l̲t̲s['] which you have not touched upon? Will you tell me in confidence, & I will promise never to divulge it, if you make a condition of secresy. Mr. Browning knows thoroughly what a poet's true work is - he is learned, not only in profane learning, but in the conduct of his genius - he is original in common things - - his very obscurities have an oracular nobleness about them which pleases me - his passion burns the paper! But I will guess at the 'worst fault' - at least I will tell you what has always seemed to me the worst fault - a want of h̲a̲r̲m̲̲o̲n̲y̲ - I mean it in the two senses, spiritual & physical. There is a want of the softening power in thoughts & in feelings as well as words - everything is trenchant, - black & white without intermediate colours, nothing is tender - there is little room in all the passion, for pathos - And the verse . . the lyrics . . w̲h̲e̲r̲e̲ i̲s̲ t̲h̲e̲ e̲a̲r̲? Inspired spirits should not speak so harshly, - & in good truth, they seldom do - What! From Paracelsus down to these Bells & Pomegranates, . . a whole band of angels, white-robed & crowned angel-thoughts, with palms in their hands, . . . . & n̲o̲ m̲u̲s̲i̲c̲!!!;" discussing an offer from Lowell to publish in America saying "Mr. Lowell of Boston wrote to me some six months ago to ask for my contributions to a new magazine he was about to undertake there, & told me to ask Mr. Tennyson for his . . altho' he c'dnt pay either of us, not having any money. I sent some things I had by me, & explained that being quite unacquainted with Mr. Tennyson it was impossible for me to take the liberty of applying to him - & t̲h̲e̲n̲, I sh'd have spoken of y̲o̲u̲, but for this clause about the no-payment which restrained me. The other day, I heard of the ruin of this magazine - the c̲o̲m̲f̲o̲r̲t̲ b̲e̲i̲n̲g̲, t̲h̲a̲t̲ a̲s̲ t̲h̲e̲ p̲r̲o̲̲p̲r̲i̲e̲t̲o̲r̲ h̲a̲d̲ n̲o̲ m̲o̲n̲e̲y̲ t̲o ̲b̲e̲g̲i̲n̲ w̲i̲t̲h̲, h̲e̲ c̲a̲n̲t̲ h̲a̲v̲e̲ l̲o̲s̲t̲ a̲n̲y̲. I liked his letter for its frankness;" commenting on Carlyle saying "I have been reading Carlyle . . his 'Past & Present' - There is nothing new in it - even of Carlyleism . . . . but almost everything true - I am a devotee of Carlyle. But tell me, why sh'd he call the English people a silent people, whose epics are in action, of whose Shakespeare & Milton are mere accidents of their condition? Is t̲h̲i̲s̲ true? Is not this contrary, - most extremely, to truth? This English people, - has it not a nobler, a fuller, a more abounding & various literature, than all the peoples of the earth 'past or present' dead or living - all except one, the Greek people? It is 'f̲a̲c̲t̲' and not 's̲h̲a̲m̲' that our literature is the fullest & noblest & most suggestive - do you not think so? I wish I knew Mr. Carlyle, to look in his face & say . . we are a most singing people . . a most eloquent & speechful people . . we are none of us silent, except the mutes - / most truly & loquaciously yours / E B Barrett."