Few writers as prominent in their own lifetimes fell afterwards into neglect more completely, or have had to wait longer for renewed intelligent attention, than Elizabeth Barrett Browning. A critical climate more and more impatient with inherited social and sexual antinomies has proved unusually favorable to a poet whose work appears to exemplify the fusion of private with public concerns. As one might have guessed, the ongoing restoration of Barrett Browning has focused much of its energies on the political content of her verse, explaining her devotion to the Italian Risorgimento as an enactment, in part, of her own struggle for psychological and artistic wholeness and coherence. What might be called an effort to find the political in the personal aspects of Barrett Browning's career, and the personal in the political, has looked to Aurora Leigh, no less than to the more overtly political verse of Casa Guidi Windows, Poems Before Congress, and Last Poems, for illustrations of such an underlying interrelationship. In this new, or at least recent, revisionist critical narrative, Henry James is frequently recruited as Barrett Browning's most influential antagonist, largely on the strength of one lengthy passage from an obscure later work in which he discusses her political engagement and speculates about its artistic implications or consequences, as he sees them, in the poet's work. Even the most persuasive attempts to discredit James's skepticism have hardly done justice, however, to the nuances of this rich and vexing passage.[1] Reconsidered in its entirety, and in the context of his other statements both on her work and on the Risorgimento, James's response--a surprising encounter between a novelist never very comfortable talking about poetry and a poet who might not have been expected to interest him at all--offers an instructive episode in the clash of critical ideologies, and a salutary reminder of the hazards of negotiating the relations between poetics and politics.[2]

James's assessment of Barrett Browning occurs at a pivotal and dramatic moment in one of the neglected curiosities of his later period, William Wetmore Story and His Friends (1903), a biography of the undistinguished American sculptor who became the Brownings' closest friend in Italy. Early in its second volume, James observes, with reference to the tumultuous events of 1859-60, "These, it is needless to say, were months of deep anxiety and suspense for lovers of Italy," a time when "the 'cause' and its issues hung, as never before, in the balance."[3] Conceding the profound effect of these uncertainties on a sensibility like Barrett Browning's, James concludes nonetheless that "it is impossible not to feel, as we read, that to 'care,' in the common phrase, as she is caring is to entertain one's convictions as a malady and a doom. Her state of mind on the public question, as her letters present it almost from the first of her residence in Italy, is an interesting, an almost unique case, which forces upon us more than one question; so that we wonder why so much disinterested passion ... should not leave us in a less disturbed degree the benefit of all the moral beauty" (WWS, 2:53-4). What makes Barrett Browning's devotion to the Italian cause so dubious, in James's eyes, is its disabling and somewhat repellent fanaticism. Combining suggestions of the organic ("a malady") and the oracular ("a doom"), and reimagined from a distance of more than forty years as a characteristically Jamesian "case," her situation in Italy becomes material almost for a turn-of-the-century Viennese study in hysteria:

We wonder at the anomaly, wonder why we are even perhaps slightly irritated, and end by asking ourselves if it be not because her admirable mind, otherwise splendidly exhibited, has inclined us to look in her for that saving and sacred sense of proportion, of the free and blessed general, that great poets, that genius and the high range of genius, give us the impression of even in emotion and passion, even in pleading a cause and calling on the gods. Mrs. Browning's sense of the general had all run, where the loosening of the Italian knot, the character of Napoleon III., the magnanimity of France and the abjection of England were involved, to the strained and the strenuous--a possession, by the subject, riding her to death, that almost prompts us at times to ask wherein it so greatly concerned her.
(WWS, 2:54)

More than merely a set of political beliefs, Barrett Browning's adherence to the Risorgimento--ironically reminiscent, in this passage, of her other famous "possession," spiritualism--is presented by James as almost a demonic, lethally destructive force that might better have been exorcised for its victim's sake. Treating it as an inflammable (and more than faintly embarrassing) neurotic condition, James's remarks might be said to have inaugurated the critical tendency, only lately challenged, to look at her partisanship not on its own terms but as the symptom of a psychological disturbance originating elsewhere, a displacement onto external matters of certain inner torments, and a response so unbalancing that it hastened the poet's sad decline.[4]

James, in fact, could have derived relatively little evidence of this condition from the papers at his disposal, referring himself at one point to "the few [letters] of Mrs. Browning 's that I have before me" and to "my scant handful of brief notes from the latter source" (WWS, 1:368). Presumably he would have had in mind the recent 1897 Frederick Kenyon edition of Barrett Browning's correspondence, which substantially publicized her own testimony along these lines for the first time. An extensive earlier selection (her letters to R. H. Horne), reviewed by James in 1877, covered the years immediately preceding her flight to Italy and thus left him with nothing to say about the matters that would concern him at the time he composed his life of Story. Even so, he retrieves in the later work a revealing distinction formulated in his review of her letters to Horne, which exhibit "a very fine moral sensibility" and in which James finds that "Miss Barrett's tone ... has often a touch of graceful gayety which the reader of her poetry, usually so anti-jocose, would not have expected,"[5] much as he will later claim, in assembling his material in the Story biography, "there is scarce a scrap of a letter of Mrs. Browning's in which a nameless intellectual, if it be not rather a moral, grace--a vibration never suggesting 'manner,' as often in her verse--does not make itself felt" (WWS, 1:370).

Such an effect as this "vibration" seems a good deal milder than the shortcomings that James had cited, rather harshly, elsewhere in his early criticism of her poetry, when he declares that "she is without tact and without taste" and that "her faults of detail are unceasing" (LC, 1:935), adduces "the singularly intimate union of her merits and defects," excoriates "her laxity and impurity of style," and concludes that, while "Mrs. Browning possessed the real poetic heat in a high degree... her sense of the poetic form was an absolute muddle" (LC, 1:1229). Although focusing on the literary, rather than strictly political, aspects of her career, these remarks from the 1860s and 1870s may be said to culminate in his final statement on Barrett Browning the poet and celebrity, and to underlie his diagnosis of "[h]er state of mind on the public question" in preunification Italy, which accentuated for James the discrepancy between the "poetic heat" of her work and its muddled "sense of the poetic form." Despite "their perfect amenity" (WWS, 1:368), even her letters, otherwise favorably contrasted to her verse, suffer in the same way from her capitulation to the pressures of the Risorgimento, "with the sense, and the alternations, of all of which Mrs. Browning's correspondence flushes and turns pale" (WWS, 2:53), as ailing and infirm as its overwrought author. Although "[h]er letters, of this and the previous time... reflect her passion, her feverish obsession, with extraordinary vivacity and eloquence" (WWS, 2:53), it is on such a basis that James proceeds to articulate reservations embracing her poetry as well. For him, these qualities of Barrett Browning's writing--whether expressed in her correspondence or in her verse--are firmly rooted in its willingness to accommodate the sort of political urgencies that obviously disturb James; and what he sees as the connection between the two is perhaps best illuminated by the larger themes of the Story biography, and by James's own understanding and experience of the world that he evokes in writing his life of the sculptor.

It was in 1848, only a year after their own arrival, that the Brownings first met the newly disembarked Story and his wife in Florence, their friendship thus coinciding almost entirely with the poets' married life abroad. Much of the time, accordingly, James's profile of the sculptor serves also as a vivid, historically informed chronicle of the years that the two couples shared in Italy, and of the various political and military developments unfolding throughout that phase of their lives. In one example, "The flight of Pius IX. to Gaeta and the establishment of the Roman Republic," following the Storys' first visit to Rome, "had marked the year of revolutions," he observes, "for though these events belong to February 1849, it was the high political temperature of the previous months that had made them possible" (WWS, 1:107), while the Storys return to witness the French intervention, and Giuseppe Garibaldi's defense of Rome, in what James describes as "that most incoherent birth of the time, the advance of French troops for the restoration of the Pope, the battle waged against the short-lived 'popular government' of Rome by the scarce longer-lived popular government of Paris" (WWS, 1:107-8). By April, encountering "great agitation in the streets," the Storys "see the Lombard reinforcements enter-Milan having had, before this, its own short, smothered outbreak .. The approach of the French, to reinstate the Pope, becomes a reality; on the 30th General Oudinot and his army [of the French Alps] were hourly expected" in Rome (WWS, 1:134). From the journals of both Story and his wife, James reproduces a sequence of excerpts that constitute an almost continuous record of the deteriorating events of April through June 1849 (as well as a visit to Giuseppe Mazzini); likewise, the next Italian war of independence is followed, from May through August 1859, via several letters in which Story's celebrated friend Charles Sumner repeatedly expresses his support, assuring the sculptor at one point, "I sympathise with you completely in all your aspirations for dear Italy and grieve with you in her discomfitures" (WWS, 2:42).

As at least one historian has noted, James's use of such documents succeeds in generating considerable immediacy and drama throughout these portions of the Story biography.[6] Yet his own position on the vicissitudes of Italian history during the Brownings' Italian exile is left characteristically nebulous. Although he acknowledges, for example, Sumner's "good fortune to be in Italy at the time of great events, into which no visitor could have entered with a larger sympathy," the attitude that James himself manages to convey sounds not altogether sympathetic: "That Future in which he had so general a faith-on the whole so easy a confidence--was all in the air and tremendously in the balance" early in 1859 (WWS, 2:34). His reference to "the lamentable events of 1849" appears to signal an endorsement of the nationalist forces variously beset and besieged following the Austrian victory at Novara (WWS, 1:99), as does James's observation that the Storys, also early in 1849, attend "a concert 'for the benefit of the Venetians.' Which of us, in Florence, at that time, wouldn't have done anything, with passion, for the benefit of the Venetians?" (WWS, 1:112-3).

Acknowledging that "the Papacy was then not, as at present, ostensibly patient, but frankly militant," he characterizes the siege of Rome as "an episode followed by a reaction only too markedly in the sense of colour" both ecclesiastical and military (WWS, 1:94). Later regretting Pius IX's flight from Rome, however, James mentions "the paternal, the patriarchal potentate expelled by too rash a population" (WWS, 1:121), while he alludes disapprovingly to the aftereffects of another antiauthoritarian initiative undertaken in the spring of 1849: "Florence had by that time put down her foot on the question of a Constitution. She has her Constitution now to her heart's content" (WWS, 1:119). By reacquainting him with certain recent phases of Italian history, the task of writing Story's life thus appears to have stimulated in James a residual ambivalence about the Risorgimento, an ambivalence expressed now and then in his early travel essays and letters from Italy, sharpened and magnified by more recent visits, and clearly informing his later remarks on Barrett Browning's "feverish obsession."

Ultimately, therefore, it will take more to make sense of those remarks than merely to argue, with one critic, that 'James' judgment was hopelessly biased by his antipathy toward progressivist Italian politics."7 For one thing, his attitude toward the Risorgimento around the time of his earlier critical statements on Barrett Browning's work is more complex, and far less unambiguously hostile, than his insinuations in the Story biography would lead one to assume. In a travel essay of the late 1870s, for example, James refers to "the fine fresh Italian rule of today," considers it "from the historic point of view... a foolish inconsistency to make one's self unhappy over the entrance of the Italians" in formerly papal Rome, and appears to join those who welcome "the intellectual satisfaction of seeing Rome in Italian hands--the postponement of this event acting upon the mind, to their sense, as a good-sized pebble in one's shoe acts upon the physical consciousness."[8] Such an irritant had been even more active a few years earlier, when James described the Duc de Luynes as "an uncompromising enemy of Italian unity" who "voted in the French Assembly... for the scandalous interference of the Republic in Roman affairs" (LC, 1:1118-9), and who "subscribed largely to equip the Papal army at the time of the resistance to Garibaldi in 1867," while expressing categorically, if rather circuitously, his own convictions on this score: "Nothing is more difficult for the Anglo-Saxon mind, in general, than to find tolerance for the French intolerance of the desire of Italy to regulate her home-conduct as she chooses" (LC, 1:1119). In 1876, James concludes a review of one of Augustus J. C. Hare's popular travel books on Italy by taking issue with its author's obstreperous illiberal views:

We differ... from Mr. Hare in the estimation in which we hold Italian unity, and the triumph of what he never alludes to but as the "Sardinian Government." He deplores the departure of the little ducal courts, thinks Italy had no need to be united, and never mentions the new order of things without a sneer. His tone strikes us as very childish... It is certainly something that Italy has been made a nation, with a voice in the affairs of Europe (to say nothing of her own, for the first time), and able to offer her admirable people (if they will choose to take it) an opportunity to practise some of those responsible civic virtues which it can do no harm even to the gifted Italians to know something about. But on this subject Mr. Hare is really rabid; in a writer who loves Italy as much as he does, his state of mind is an incongruity.
(LC, 1:1054-5)

At least as of the 1870s, it appears, there would have been nothing incongruous, as far as he is concerned, in accepting Italian unification, or inconsistent with any genuine love of Italy--making it rather difficult to maintain, with one critic, "that the Italy of the Unity, the Italy still living and creating its Risorgimento, does not really exist for James."[9] Recalling their time together in Italy, Mrs. Humphry/Ward listed not only "Roman history/and antiquities, Italian Art, Renaissance sculpture," but also "the personalities and events of the Risorgimento" among the "solid connaissances" that "were to be recognized perpetually as rich elements in the general wealth of Mr. James's mind," and that revealed to her "perhaps more fully than ever before the extraordinary range of his knowledge and sympathies."[10] At least one cultural historian finds in much of James's travel writing "exceptionally acute social and cultural commentary on post-Risorgimento developments," indicating a far livelier interest in the country's political fortunes than one would gather from the expansive scholarship on the Italianate elements of the novelist's work. [11]

His most substantial expression of this knowledge and awareness occurs in James's rarely cited review, in 1877, of Charles de Mazade's biography of Cavour, whom he applauds as "the liberator of Italy" (LC, 2:557), in the course of synopsizing in some detail "the history of an extraordinarily interesting career" that "was ... one of the most remarkable and most active in the annals of statesmanship" (LC, 2:556). It might seem revealing that, of all the figures of the Risorgimento, James writes at length only of the one who was "the model of the moderate and conservative liberal," whose "liberalism was untinged by the radical leaven" (LC, 2:557), and who "often said ... that no republic can give as much liberty, and as real liberty, as a constitutional monarchy that operates regularly" (LC, 2:558). At the same time, however, James suggests that a balanced view of the Risorgimento would have acknowledged the equally important role of its more extreme proponents. For example, he observes critically that de Mazade, "keeping in view his hero's conservative side... relates in considerable detail the story of the liberation of Italy, with no allusion to Mazzini beyond speaking of him two or three times as a vulgar and truculent conspirator, and with a regrettable tendency to stint the mixture of praise to the erratic but certainly, during a most important period, efficient Garibaldi" (LC, 2:558). He notes, moreover, Cavour's resourcefulness in being "confronted with the constant necessity of presenting an unflinching front to Austria," along with "the necessity, equally imperious, of checking reactionary excesses in Parma and Modena, Bologna and Tuscany," and "of remaining free, especially, from the reproach of meddling with the papacy--an enterprise for which the occasion was not ripe" (LC, 2:560). A riper occasion, he implies, would soon arise, as James goes on to praise not only the results of Cavour's "mingled ardor and tact" ... his tension of purpose, and yet his self restraint, his inveterate skill in turning events to his advantage" (LC, 2:560), but also "the element of discretion, the art of sailing with the current of events, that enabled him to effect a great revolution by means that were, after all, in relation to the end in view, not violent--by measures that were never reckless, high-handed or of a character to force from circumstances more than they could naturally yield" (LC, 2:557). Finally, and most striking in the light of his later comments in the life of Story, it is "Cavour's relations with Napoleon III." that James considers "the best example of his disposition to use the best instruments and opportunities that offered themselves, and not quarrel with them because they were not ideally perfect" (LC, 2:559). He notes derisively that "the Italian 'patriots' of the mere romantic type could never forgive" the fact "that Italy should appeal for liberation to the oppressor of France," before concluding that "[t]he emperor's sympathy with Italian independence is certainly the most interesting and honorable feature in his career" (LC, 2:559).

At a point in time so much closer to the triumph of the Risorgimento than the Story biography, James's sentiments thus seem, if temperate by comparison, not all that far, ultimately, from those of Barrett Browning: her own view of Napoleon III, however excessive and idolatrous, would have made her, in the novelist's terms, a patriot of more than "the mere romantic type." Even so, his review of de Mazade's biography already establishes the basis on which she will later be distinguished in the novelist's eyes from a figure like Cavour. Compared to Mazzini and Garibaldi, the statesman demonstrates for James "something very striking in such religious devotion to an idea when it is unaccompanied with fanaticism or narrowness of view, and tempered with good sense and wit and the art of taking things easily" (LC, 2:558); and it is precisely this nuance that survives in his life of Story as James discusses the aftermath, in 1848-49, of the preceding Italian war of independence. "Mrs. Browning thirsted for great events," he observes, "but the Storys were less strenuous and took things as they came" (WWS, 1:119), while it is on such questions as "the character of Napoleon III" and "the magnanimity of France"-questions on which the clearer-eyed Cavour took presumably a surer and more accurate view--that "Mrs. Browning's sense of the general had all run... to the strained and the strenuous," in "a possession ... riding her to death" (WWS, 2:54). If an inability to take things easily, or "as they came," is regarded as the mark of a futile immoderate radicalism, few champions of Italian unification would appear to have taken things harder than Barrett Browning, whose advocacy in itself is not so much the problem, according to James, as its misplaced, crippling obsessiveness and, most of all, its grievous effects on her imaginative life. Claiming to be "uneasy" about his own account of Barrett Browning's political involvements "till we have recognised the ground of our critical reaction" to her "case," James goes on to disclose its foundation, declaring that it is "this ground, exactly, that makes the case an example," a cautionary object lesson of which other poets would do well to take heed. "Monstrous as the observation may sound in its crudity," he does not scruple to suggest, "we absolutely feel the beautiful mind and the high gift discredited by their engrossment" in the agitations of the Risorgimento, given over as they were, in his eyes, to a cause that had become both a psychologically and an aesthetically damaging idee fixe. For James, "this is what becomes of distinguished spirits when they fail to keep above"--that is, to maintain, under the pressure of accelerating tensions and events, an appropriately Jamesian aloofness from the chaos of historical circumstance, and the messiness of quotidian social or political contingencies. Under an assumption that had become quite dear to James by the time of the increasingly hermetic, involuted fictions of the major phase, the political and the poetic remain incompatible or mutually exclusive,[12] standing, one might say, in an inverse relation to each other: "The cause of Italy was, obviously, for Mrs. Browning, as high aloft as any object of interest could be; but that was only because she had let down, as it were, her inspiration and her poetic pitch." In James's critical vocabulary, the ascendancy of one is practically facilitated by the slackening or relaxation of the other, with the result that Barrett Browning's "inspiration" and "poetic pitch... suffered for it sadly--the permission of which, conscious or unconscious, is on the part of the poet, on the part of the beautiful mind, ever to be judged (by any critic with any sense of the real) as the unpardonable sin" (WWS, 2:55).

What is revealing here, of course, is James's reformulation of a moral or religious concept into the cornerstone of an aesthetic ideology according to which Barrett Browning falls short as a programmatically and avowedly political poet. The qualities exhibited by "great poets" of "genius"--what James calls "that saving and sacred sense of proportion, of the free and blessed general," implicitly connected to a "sense of the real"--are missing in Barrett Browning, whose vers engage exposes a poetic gift disproportionately "engrossed" in a "cause," profanely and irreclaimably self-confined to the local and particular, and artistically compromised as a result. If only Barrett Browning had followed, he seems to imply, the very different "example" that Story and his wife are made to represent throughout James's life of the sculptor. Remarking that they "were afterwards, doubtless .. to love their old Rome better, or at least know her better, for having seen her at one of the characteristically acute moments of her long-troubled life," James nonetheless indicates the sort of stance one should assume toward, say, the calamities that greeted the Storys on their return to Rome in 1849: "The flight of the Pontiff, the tocsin and the cannon, the invading army, the wounded and dying, the wild rumours, the flaring nights, the battered walls, were all so much grist to the mill of an artistic, a poetic nature, curious of character, history, aspects" (WWS, 1:108). A perspective marked by curiosity rather than passionate involvement is thus defined by James as an intrinsically poetic attribute. And this politically noncommittal, not to say indifferent, posture--although obviously at odds with their own testimony--finds an even more nourishing occasion as the Storys "go to watch the barricade-making at Porta San Giovanni, where they 'vote the workmen too lazy to live.' But this is doubtless all the better for Story, who, studious of movement and attitude, sits and sketches the scene from a pile of timber 'destined to be used in the defence'" (WWS, 1:134). The "defence" here, of course, is that of Rome, which becomes in the Story biography, along with more or less everything else about the Risorgimento, a scene, something James's visually alert and sensitive predecessors in Italy watch or gaze upon, with his approval.

It is on this basis that the Storys are tacitly differentiated from the more viscerally affected Barrett Browning; and James's habit of endowing the Storys with some of his own most recognizable inclinations becomes a leading pattern of the biography, implicating its protagonists in a pervasive theatricalization of their Italian milieu. "The French siege of 1849," as James initially describes it, "was the first public event at which our special friends were to assist" (WWS, 1:94), although the nature of their participation is clarified by the time he next refers to the French advance against the recently created Italian republic: "It was at this battle that foreign visitors 'assisted,' as in an opera-box, from anxious Pincian windows" (WWS, 1:108). Returning to Rome in 1849, the Storys arrive "in time to place themselves well, as it were, for the drama, to get seated and settled before it begins" (WWS, 1:108), at a moment in Italian history when "the drama filled the stage instead of going on, as we see it, behind the scenes" (WWS, 1:94). Later, just before he begins to analyze BarrettBrowning's "state of mind on the public question," what James calls the "months of deep anxiety and suspense for lovers of Italy" in 1858-59 are similarly characterized in his remark that "public events had hurried over the stage like the contending armies of Elizabethan plays" (WWS, 2:53). Nowhere, however, does his life of the sculptor act upon such an impulse more audaciously than when James pauses in narrating the Storys' flight from Rome:

This chronicler, at all events, desiring to miss no impression, since, evidently, to a sharpened appetite for figures and scenes, there was matter for impression--this chronicler trudges by the old travelling-carriage as it climbs the Umbrian hills, hangs about the inn doors, with the ear-ringed vetturino, at Narni and Spoleto, at Incisa and Perugia, and wouldn't, frankly, for such sense as we may get from it to-day, have had a single Austrian officer absent or heard a scabbard the less trail along a stonepaved passage. I even retrace our steps, without scruple, to pick up any loose flower of this blood-spattered Roman spring that may be to our purpose.
(WWS, 1:143)

A sensibility that would retain, on pictorial grounds, the military presence of a brutal, foreign occupying power in a country other than one's own is bound to seem extraordinarily disengaged, if not rather cold-blooded, alongside the earnestness with which the Storys and Barrett Browning, in James's own account, obviously responded to the same events. Like the manner in which his narrative interweaves the larger events of the day with the mundane social and touristic movements of his protagonists in Florence and Rome, and like its many recreational images of revolution and political crisis (or James's tendency to depict the Risorgimento as a distracting inconvenience from which one turns away in favor of a more hospitable Italy), this compulsion to aestheticize throughout the Story biography runs the risk of placing at a trivializing distance the upheavals that so exercised the imagination of Barrett Browning and her contemporaries.

His disposition to take such a view of their surroundings is consistent, of course, with the cultural significance long attached to the Italian milieu not only by the Storys but also by the many other "precursors," as the earlier generation of American expatriates in Rome and Florence are fondly designated throughout James's life of the sculptor. Even as he documents the attentiveness of the Storys and the Brownings to the political and military events around them, it seems no accident that James should establish certain illuminating parallels and continuities between his own later experience of Italy and theirs. More than once, he interrupts his account of the Storys' arrival in Italy to recall, by way of contrast, his own, which occurred on the eve of yet a more decisive stage of the Risorgimento: "Their felicity in this was greater than the comparatively small one with which, in years to come, after alighting, for the first time, at the same threshold, the writer of these lines, though gratefully enough indeed, had to content himself" (WWS, 1:108). Deriving what he calls "matter for retrospective envy from the indications of Story's second Florentine autumn," James admits to "making... a positive fetish of the fancy out of the image of that precious little city as it might have been lived in and loved before its modern misfortunes" (WWS, 1:109), which result, in his eyes, from the political reforms associated with the Risorgimento. Such an impact on everyday Italian life helps explain the wistfulness with which James, following the daily rounds of the Storys and the Brownings, declares that "the terms on which the Italy of the old order was so amply enjoyable ... make us feel to-day shut out from a paradise" (WWS, 1:97). In his recollections, "the old Rome of the old order" (WWS, 1:93) withstood the forces of change and modernity just long enough to have presented the young novelist, in 1869, with "a perpetual many-coloured picture--the vast, rich canvas in which Italian unity was, as we may say, to punch a hole that has never been repaired" (WWS, 1:93-4). Turning a movement for sovereignty and political self-determination into a form of vandalism, James feels more than prepared to add that "[t]he hole to-day in Rome is bigger than almost anything else we see, and the main good fortune of our predecessors in general was just in their unconsciousness of any blank space. The canvas then was crowded, the old-world presence intact" (WWS, 1:94).

It is one of the implicit ironies of the Story biography that Barrett Browning, by supporting the forces of independence and republicanism, should have insensibly squandered such a rare opportunity and contributed to the punching of that hole in the canvas of the Rome of "the old order" (what he later calls "the sweeter, softer, easier, idler Rome" [WWS, 1:245]) for which James nostalgically longs. Although he acknowledges that the cause of Italian nationalism "concerned her of course as it concerned all near witnesses and lovers of justice" (WWS, 2:54), perhaps only someone far removed in time and temperament from the events in which BarrettBrowning and Italy were engulfed could have the complacency to add, as James does, that "the effect of her insistent voice and fixed eye is to make us somehow feel that justice is, after all, of human things, has something of the convenient looseness of humanity about it" (WWS, 2:54-5). The unyielding stance of someone like Barrett Browning, her tenacious responsiveness to the crises around her, are what offends an imagination like James's, as he explains the basis of "our complaint" about the obstructing and obscuring effects of her zealotry: "the clear stream runs thick; the real superiority pays; we are less edified than we ought to be" (WWS, 2:55). Edified, that is, by the insistence and intensity of her commitments, as if we are to find superior and more edifying the loftiness of a consciousness evidently prone to transforming landscapes of bloodshed and misery into sources of continual aesthetic gratification.

Here and there in his own early travel essays on Italy, James is certainly more than aware of the perils, and indeed the impertinence, of any purely aesthetic apprehension of that beleaguered country.[13] And, at the same time, it is perhaps understandable that preunification Italy, after four intervening decades of change and chaos, had come to seem idyllic by the time he completed the Story biography, at the age of sixty and with eleven of his twelve visits to Italy behind him. Yet the complexity of James's response to Barrett Browning, and particularly to her political allegiances (or to their residue in her writing), is perhaps best clarified by a glance at his more substantial and admiring remarks on her husband's poetry. While it is Story's verse that serves in the biography as his chief reference point along these lines, James might just as easily be talking of Barrett Browning's when he suggests that in his Italianate poems the sculptor "has conceivably not the proper detachment for full appreciation" (WWS, 2:225). Alongside Story's diffuse, unfocused experience of Italy, James places "the history of Robert Browning and his inspiration, suggestive as they both are of a quite opposed moral. Italy, obviously, was never too much for the author of 'Men and Women'" (WWS, 2:226-7). By contrast to Story's verse, and implicitly to that of his own wife, Browning's work is presented, here and elsewhere in James's criticism, as a model of how to write poetry of or about Italy, a uniquely authoritative example of how to put one's Italian experience to fruitful imaginative use.[14] "This straight saturation of our author's, this prime assimilation of the elements for which the name of Italy stands," James declares in his Browning centenary lecture on The Ring and the Book, "is a single splendid case... The Rome and Tuscany of the early 'fifties had become for him so at once a medium, a bath of the senses and perceptions, into which he could sink, in which he could unlimitedly soak, that wherever he might be touched afterwards he gave out some effect of that immersion" (LC, 1:802). Rather than a populated region arduously recovering from the events of 1848-49, "the Rome and Tuscany of the early 'fifties" become, in this elaborately unappetizing image, almost a sensorium from which an absorbent imagination derives nourishment--while Browning, in his Italian period, is refigured as a disinterested Jamesian consciousness neutrally registering impressions, presumably aided by "that saving and sacred sense of proportion" absent from his wife's verse, and embodying in his detachment a virtue that she would have done well to emulate.

What James had called "the Italy we felt and cherished in him" is clearly not the Italy of Barrett Browning (WWS, 2:285), the politically convulsive Italy of the Risorgimento, and it is Browning's verse, far more than hers, that the novelist consistently cites in his criticism, letters, and travel essays to describe his own experiences of the land that meant so much to all of them.[15] Indeed, the novelist who once referred to her husband as "a writer of verse of which the nature or the fortune has been ... to be treated rarely as quotable" (LC, 1:789) never quotes, in the Story biography or in his critical prose, so much as a single line from Barrett Browning's. It is in leaving its material suitably unpoliticized that Browning's poetry of Italy remains for James artistically superior, preferable to verse immersed not in "a bath of the senses and perceptions" but rather in the aesthetically harmful maelstrom of social and political forces with which Barrett Browning so ardently associated herself.[16] Insofar as such a movement fostered political unity and helped democratize the Italian peninsula, James's "critical reaction" in his life of Story--depicting as lamentable the putatively splintering or disintegrating effects of the Risorgimento not only on the work of a poet like Barrett Browning but on Italy itself-would seem to imply reaction in another, less innocuous sense as well. In any event, one of the phenomena that have traditionally defined the critical orthodoxy on the Brownings--the opposition between the politically animated but naive, or rather naively political, poet-wife and the restrained, prudent, sensible poet-husband--might almost be said to have originated in James's remarks, which introduce a qualifying contrast even in his reference to the "extraordinary vivacity and eloquence" of the "letters" that "reflect her passion, her feverish obsession" with the Risorgimento, "while the pulses of her companion's much more clearly throb" (WWS, 2:53; my emphasis).[17] More important, perhaps, James's assessment authorizes also the equally traditional evaluative distinction between the works of each poet and allows us to uncover the ideological basis of that distinction, resting as it does on an elevation of the apolitically Olympian and on a corresponding rebuke of the conspicuously political. And the sexualized value obliquely but unmistakably assigned to each is apparent, finally, in the tone and demeanor of his remarks on Barrett Browning's "insistent voice and fixed eye"-on an "engrossment" evidently unbecoming in a poet of her sex, and far less palatable than the spirit that James had discerned, many years earlier, in her pre-Risorgimento letters to Horne.[18]

One need not overstress the presence of the political in the poetic, or ideologize officially critical remarks like his, to be disturbed by James's caricature of Barrett Browning the partisan. An attempt to demystify by psychologizing the role of politics in her experience, his appraisal itself requires demystification by having restored to it the very element that James finds so deleterious in Barrett Browning's work. Even in his fastidious hands, however, the political distinction between the Brownings is ultimately far from absolute; almost as if offering a corrective to his own skepticism on this score,James allows a counter image of the two poets to emerge, in fact, from the very documents incorporated so generously throughout the Story biography. One notes with gratitude, for example, his use of "a long and very interesting letter," as James calls it ("so full that I give it without curtailment" [WWS, 2:60]), in which Story reports Barrett Browning's death to Charles Eliot Norton and quotes her husband's reactions: "'The cycle is complete,' as Browning said, looking around the room; 'here we came fifteen years ago; here Pen was born; here Ba wrote her poems for Italy... We saw from these windows the return of the Austrians; they wheeled around this corner and came down this street with all their cannon,just as she describes it in "Casa Guidi ... (WWS, 2:65). After his biographer's rather casual speculations about "[h]er state of mind on the public question," one is struck by the unpatronizing language in which Story proceeds to eulogize Browning's wife:

"There stood the table with her letters and books as usual, and her little chair beside it, and in her portfolio a half-finished letter to Mme. Mario, full of noble words about Italy. Yes, it was for Italy that her last words were written; for her dear Italy were her last aspirations... She is a great loss to literature, to Italy and to the world--the greatest poet among women. What energy and fire there was in that little frame; what burning words were winged by her pen; with what glorious courage she attacked error, however strongly entrenched in custom; how bravely she stood by her principles!"
(WWS, 2:64-7)

To be sure, as Story himself surmises, it was her "agitation" upon "[t] he death of Cavour," which "had greatly affected her" and over which Barrett Browning "had wept many tears... and been a real mourner" (WWS, 2:64), that "undoubtedly weakened her and perhaps was the last feather that broke her down" (WWS, 2:64-5), thus corroborating James's sense of the physical effects of her political enthusiasms. Yet it is to his credit that James quotes, at such moving length, a passage that so eloquently diminishes the force and authority of his own earlier "critical reaction" to the "case" represented by Barrett Browning. Little more than a decade after querulously wondering about the roots of "so much disinterested passion, so inflamed a desire... (and for a people not her own, a people only befriended and admired)" (WWS, 2:54), James himself would turn out, after all, to be no less capable of a consuming patriotic fervor on behalf of an adoptive country. And, as he was surely aware, Barrett Browning's hosts themselves--who "so deeply appreciated" what one literary historian calls "her sympathy" and her "support for their political cause... that her death ... was regarded as a national loss," and whose affection "was won by her preoccupation with the ambitions and fortunes of Italian nationalism"l seem to have felt no urge to wonder "wherein it so greatly concerned her." It is tempting to ponder how different the Brownings' critical legacy might have been had a voice as commanding as James's attempted to take the political Barrett Browning as seriously and eloquently as Story did. "'Oh Italy, thou womanland!' breaks out Browning, more than once, straight at that mark," James would declare shortly afterwards, alluding to another favorite image of the poet's in recording his impressions upon his return to New England in 1904.[20] It is perhaps the strangest of the many ironies surrounding his "critical reaction" in the Story biography that James should ascribe to her husband the very trope with which Barrett Browning articulated her creatively and psychologically liberating selfidentification with the Risorgimento,[21] and through which her own work, exploring as it does the twin tyrannies of Austrian/papal rule and domestic patriarchy, has become lately and so powerfully available again.

1 Only a couple of phrases from Henry James's remarks are quoted in, for example, Flavia Maya's otherwise excellent "The Ring, the Rescue, and the Risorgimento: Reunifying the Brownings' Italy," Browning Institute Studies 6 (1978): 1-41, 7, 37, and 39; or in Dorothy Mermin, Elizabeth Barrett Browning: The Origins of a New Poetry (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1989), p. 229. Bypassing the original source entirely, Sandra M. Gilbert quotes another scholar's quotation of a single phrase from the passage in question in "From Patria to Matria: Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Risorgimento," PMLA 99, 2 (March 1984): 194-211, 194.

2 For a sampling of recent critical thought on this troubling phenomenon, see C. M. Bowra, Poetry and Politics, 1900-60 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1966); Richard Jones, ed., Poetry and Politics: An Anthology of Essays (New York: Morrow, 1985); Robert von Hallberg, ed., Politics and Poetic Value (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1987); and Kate Flint, ed., Poetry and Politics (Woodbridge, Suffolk and Rochester NY: D. S. Brewer, 1996). Despite this revived post-New Critical interest in politically explicit poetry, and the continuing retrieval of her own work, Barrett Browning would appear to remain unappreciated as a political poet; it is ironic, in the light of traditional critical distinctions between the two poets, that her husband's work is represented while hers is not in, say, Tom Paulin, ed., The Faber Book of Political Verse (London: Faber and Faber, 1986). Of more concern to recent literary study, of course, would be the excavation of a text's inadvertently political elements, of its "political unconscious," or of a politics sublimated into other terms; to place the Story biography, and specifically James's response to the political Barrett Browning, under that kind of scrutiny will be more my purpose here than to rehabilitate Barrett Browning as a political poet.

3 Henry James, William Wetmore Story and His Friends: From Letters, Diaries, and Recollections, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: Blackwood and Sons, 1903), 2:53. Further citations will be to this edition and occur parenthetically in the text designated as WWS.

4 Within three years, for example, James's emerging disciple Percy Lubbock not only referred to the Story biography but also clearly echoed its discussion of Barrett Browning's "case" in ElizabethBarrettBrowning in Her Letters (London: Smith, Elder and Company, 1906). Deploring "her too insistent enthusiasm for the cause of liberty" (p. 255), he argued that "her small reserve of health was disastrously affected by her agonized excitement over the affairs of Italy" (p. 362), and concluded that "the quality of her mind to some extent suffered in consequence" (p. 362), in what Lubbock describes as a "storming of the mind by inferior forces" (pp. 363-4).

5 Henry James, Literary Criticism, ed. Leon Edel with the assistance of Mark Wilson, 2 vols. (New York: Library of America, 1984), 1:777. Further references are to this edition and appear parenthetically in the text designated as LC.

6 "[O]ne cannot but still read in wonder and fascination the eyewitness descriptions of the last days of the Roman Revolution contained in Story's diary of 1849" (A. William Salomone, "The Nineteenth-Century Discovery of Italy: An Essay in American Cultural History," American Historical Review 73, 5 [June 1968]: 1359-91, 1376). My thanks to Frank Coppa for his helpful comments on the historical context of James's discussion of Barrett Browning and the Risorgimento.

7 Alaya, p. 37.

8 James, Collected Travel Writings: The Continent, ed. Richard Howard (New York: Library of America, 1993), pp. 762, 754.

9 Agostino Lombardo, "Italy and the Artist in Henry James," in The Sweetest Impression of Life: The James Family and Italy, ed. James W. Tuttleton and Lombardo (New York: New York Univ. Press, 1990), pp. 228-39, 230.

10 Mrs. Humphry Ward, A Writer's Recollections, 2 vols. (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1918), 2:195.

11 Salomone, p. 1380 n. 52. More responsible than most for this persistent critical distortion, Edel recently insists that James "was not writing about Italy as a social or economic entity, or as an assemblage of city states unified into a single country" ("The Italian Journeys of Henry James," in The Sweetest Impression of Life, pp. 8-21, 10). His interest in the Risorgimento, along with the entire political backdrop of James's Italian experiences, is largely overlooked not only in this collection of essays but also in, for example, Robert L. Gale, "Henry James and Italy," Studi Americani 3 (1957): 189-203; Umberto Mariani, "The Italian Experience of Henry James," NCF19, 3 (December 1964): 237-54; Kathleen Fitzpatrick, Henry James and the Influence of Italy (Sydney: Sydney Univ. Press, 1968); and Carl Maves, Sensuous Pessimism: Italy in the Work of Henry James (Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1973).

12 James's disciple perpetuates this assumption when observing with reference to Casa Guidi Windows that "the public were invited to accept a book of mingled poetry and politics" (Lubbock, p. 279), as if the two are to be regarded as categorically distinct. In a rather perplexing treatment of this issue, one of Barrett Browning's recent biographers acknowledges that the novelist "felt that politics as a subject diminished her poetry," while arguing nonetheless that "Henry James understood the perceptivity of the poet's political point of view," a remark with which few readers of his life of Story are likely to agree; it is hard to know who is meant, in any case, in the even more debatable contention that, "as the historical issues of 1848 faded into obscurity, critics began to misinterpret the political basis of her works in a way Henry James never would have" (Julia Markus, Dared and Done: The Marriage of Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning [New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995], p. 132).

13 Although he remarked during his second visit to Italy that anyone "acquainted with the fully papal Rome, coming back any time during the past winter, must have immediately noticed that something momentous had happened" after the events of 1869-70, "something hostile to the elements of picture and colour and 'style,'"James by 1877 was able to claim, for example, that "nothing is more easy to understand than an honest ire on the part of the young Italy of today at being looked at by all the world as a kind of soluble pigment. Young Italy, preoccupied with its economical and political future, must be heartily tired of being admired for its eyelashes and its pose" (James, Travel Writings, pp. 413, 392).

14 For James, according to Denis Donoghue, "[t]he cause of Italy, its daily ramification, so preoccupied her" that "Mrs. Browning could never sufficiently mind her own business" or "keep any of her mind intact above its engrossments," while she and Story "were alike in having not enough indifferences" (" William Wetmore Story and His Friends: The Enclosing Fact of Rome," in The Sweetest Impression of Life, pp. 210-27, 221). The political subtext of James's own critique, or what such a premium on "indifferences" might ideologically signify, is not considered in such a reading, which implicitly subscribes to the criteria that James applies to Barrett Browning's verse (even mimicking the tone in which he discusses her allegiances).

15 To his sister James remarked, during his first visit to Italy, "I went out to Fiesole--'my Fiesole'--Mrs. Browning's, of course that is,--and thence away into the hills beyond it" (To Alice James, 6 [?] October 1869, in 1843-75, vol. 1 of Henry James Letters, ed. Leon Edel [Cambridge MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 1974], pp. 144-9, 149); otherwise, it is Browning's verse that mediated, and profoundly shaped, James's experience and imaginative apprehension of the Italian milieu in ways that continue to elude scholars of his work. (Strangely, the "Italian" aspect of their literary relationship goes unmentioned in the one full-length joint study of poet and novelist: Ross Posnock, Henry James and the Problem of Robert Browning [Athens: Univ. of Georgia Press, 1985].) James's various comments on the Italian element of Browning's verse are cited, to good effect, in Jacob Korg, Browning and Italy (Athens: Ohio Univ. Press, 1983), passim.

16 As one scholar points out, "James's own artistic standards are evidenced in this passage" from the Story biography on the effects of Barrett Browning's response to the Risorgimento, while for him "Robert Browning, unlike his wife, met them admirably" (Karen L. Wadman, "William Wetmore Story and His Friends: Henry James's Portrait of Robert Browning," YES 11 [1981]: 210-8, 214). Even so, as texts like Pippa Passes, "The Italian in England," and "The Patriot" obviously attest, Browning himself was often readier to address the same political matters in his verse than James might have preferred to acknowledge; on this element of his poetry, see, for example, Korg's study (pp. 52-8), which nonetheless appears to endorse the sort of distinction that informed James's understanding of the poet's work by attributing to Browning "the sharp realization that he was excluded from the relationship to Italy shared by Elizabeth, the Italian patriot, and Pen, the native of Florence. His stance was different from theirs. He had never identified himself with Italy, or idealized it, but had observed it, from an affectionate distance, as an arena of moral and spiritual drama" (p. 154). Although quoting a number of the Brownings' letters as reproduced by James in the Story biography, Korg neglects to cite the novelist's analysis of Barrett Browning's "state of mind on the public question." (For a provocative, if opaque and often impenetrable, reconsideration of the politics of her husband's verse [though without reference to James], see Robert Viscusi, "'The Englishman in Italy': Free Trade as a Principle of Aesthetics," Browning Institute Studies 12 [1984]: 1-28.)

17 For a full and convincing refutation of the standard critical wisdom, see Alaya, who demonstrates the Brownings' concurrence on various political matters (particularly Napoleon III). Although referring to her as "our Italomaniac poet" (p. 125), a refreshingly impartial earlier treatment of Barrett Browning's partisanship may be found in Harry W. Rudman, Italian Nationalism and English Letters: Figures of the Risorgimento and Victorian Men of Letters (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1940), passim. Kenneth Churchill (Italy and English Literature, 1764-1930 [Totowa NJ: Barnes and Noble, 1980]), while dismissing Barrett Browning's political verse as "poetically ephemeral" (p. 100), otherwise departs from the critical consensus in observing evenhandedly that "the prominence of Italian affairs in her later work shows a major redirection of her poetic energies brought about by contact with Italy, and presented the English reader with a sustained plea for sympathy with the Italian cause," constituting "one of the principal literary manifestations of the enormous English interest in Italian politics in mid-century" (p. 101).

18 According to his 1877 review, the "extremely natural and spontaneous" "tone" of her letters "offers a peculiarly pleasing mixture of the ladylike and the highly-intelligent, and leaves an impression somewhat akin to that of an agreeable woman's voice--soft, substantial, and expressive" (LC, 1:777). It is surely on such wider, culturally encoded grounds, rather than merely "on a narrow idea of health and beauty," as one critic suggests, that "James's opinion" of "her impassioned partisanship ... is based" (Mermin, p. 229). Even so, it should be noted that James's impatience has not been restricted to critics of his own sex; one scholar in 1923 might be freely paraphrasing his assessment in the Story biography and reinforcing its presuppositions in asking, "What ... was Italy to Mrs. Browning?--Is there not something artificial, something almost of pose, in this wordy devotion to what was, after all, a foreign cause?--It was good that she should be interested in Italy; but had she no other interest, more vital and intimate?" (Marjory A. Bald, Women-Writers of the Nineteenth Century [Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1923], pp. 213-4).

19 Churchill, p. 100. As a more recent Florentine puts it, Barrett Browning "deserves the perennial gratitude of Italians for the way she frankly assumes the role of poet of the Italian Risorgimento" (Giuliana Artom Treyes, The Golden Ring: The Anglo-Florentines, 1847-62, trans. Sylvia Sprigge [London: Longmans, Green, and Company, 1956], p. 76).

20 James, The American Scene (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1907), p. 19.

21 As Gilbert observes, "[T]hrough her involvement with the revolutionary struggle for political identity that marked Italy's famous risorgimento, Barrett Browning enacted and reenacted her own personal and artistic struggle for identity," which she inscribes in her work "by using metaphors of the healing and making whole of a wounded woman/land to articulate both the reality and fantasy of her own female/poetic revitalization" (pp. 194-5); moreover, "in aligning herself with the revolutionary cause of Italy, Barrett Browning aligns herself against the strictures and structures of her fatherland, England," likened to "her imprisoning room in Wimpole Street" (p. 199). As an exploration of the analogies in Barrett Browning's work between certain forms of autocratic power, Gilbert's reading, although unusually thorough, is anticipated more succinctly in the following (uncited) observation: "There is a moving parallel between the passionate woman, imprisoned by her frail health, tyrannized by her father who was the prototype of the Victorian family despot, and Italy which in those same years was being restored to life and liberty" (Treves, p. 76).
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