Is it just me? Or are some names more powerful and poetic that others? Elizabeth Barrett Browning. It sounds like a strong, graceful eagle, soaring above as if to look upon those below, with a guiding breeze trailing behind her. She glides along, echoing a whisper of encouragement and humor, smiling upon those worthy enough to notice.
Elizabeth was born in England, during 1806. Her family brought on extensive wealth based on massively discreditable means. Going back to 1655, many of her family members lived in Jamaica exploiting slaves on their plantations. Her father, Edward owned 10,000 acres in Northern Jamaica, following in the same path and example of those prior to him. Elizabeth’s mother Mary was also implicated in buying and selling Africans as slaves and abusing their labor to build her wealth. Between Edward and Mary’s investments, their riches flourished, creating a fortune unworthy of their merit. Edward was very controlling of his family and regrettably didn’t realize his love was, at times, entrapping them as fugitives desperate to flee.
Elizabeth was the oldest of 12 siblings. All of Elizabeth’s schooling was provided at home and by the age of 4 she was already writing. Soon enough, by the age of 6 she was soaking in novels and basking in the words propelling from each page. Obviously advanced for her age, writing and reading came very natural to Elizabeth and she sought out every opportunity to focus on it. By the age of 14, her appearance was described as, “…a slight, delicate figure, with a shower of dark curls falling on each side of a most expressive face; large, tender eyes, richly fringed by dark eyelashes, and a smile like a sunbeam.” Elizabeth didn’t necessarily fit in with her family. She enjoyed going for family walks and picnics, riding her pony, joining in on theatrical productions, but most favored of all, was retreating to her quiet land of books.
“Books and dreams were what I lived in and domestic life only seemed to buzz gently around, like bees about the grass.”
During this time, she was also experiencing relentless physical tortures that never seemed to fade. Her head and spine perpetually ached, and initially, a few of her sisters noted experiencing similar symptoms…their pains faded though. Elizabeth’s remained, if not intensified. She went away for treatment and realized nothing was improving and no diagnosis resulted. Elizabeth began taking opiates to get through each day, soon escalating to morphine. She became quite dependent on this to not be in excruciating misery each day.
At 15, Elizabeth was a passionate admirer of Mary Wollstonecraft. Mary wrote A Vindication of Rights of Woman that supports feminist philosophy. Elizabeth valued a different perspective than what she had been used to and was drawn to this sensibility. This atypical mentality enticed a longing in Elizabeth, one that she wasn’t quite accustomed to revealing. At 22, Elizabeth’s independence, skill and curiosity was continuing to grow. Sadly, a wall abruptly blocked her path, with the passing of her mother. Mary’s sister Sarah arrived to help care for the children of the home for a brief period. Elizabeth’s Aunt brought great tension into the family, as she didn’t care for Elizabeth’s newly founded independence and strong attitude. Traits that had now latched onto Elizabeth’s true being and identity.
Elizabeth’s father Edward had not only just lost his wife, but now, his land. Lawsuits were being projected at him during the abolition of slavery. His financial losses forced him to sell. The family didn’t know the full story, as Edward was quite “hush hush” with his finances. The household speculated what would result from such a loss and without knowing the depths of the situation, worry floated amongst the family that they would be forced to live in Jamaica. No such move was necessary though. The family was not in the gutter just yet, and resided to London in 1841.
During this time of Elizabeth’s life, she cuddled up in her quiet bedroom and didn’t see many outside guests. She enjoyed the warmth of a spaniel named Flush. Her health seemed to improve and she once again immersed herself in writing poems and works of translations. Her 1844 volume Poems induced widespread popularity.
And still, due to the ongoing flucuations of health issues that Elizabeth suffered from, she never gave much hope of meeting a man that would be anxious to swoon over her. Robert Browning was a well-respected English poet and playwright. Upon reading her volume Poems, he wrote to her expressing his love for her verses. “…Fresh, strange music, the affluent language, the exquisite pathos and true new brave thought.” This led to the pair meeting and escalating into one of the most famous courtships of the time. They wrote hundreds of letters to each other, until, they couldn’t just write anymore.
Interestingly, Edward had forbade all of his children to marry. This left little option for Elizabeth. Her bravery mounted and the pair married in secret, as her father would never support the union. Edward expectantly disinherited Elizabeth, along with his other children who decided to marry. Elizabeth and Robert moved to Italy and soon thereafter, became celebrated and admired. At 43, Elizabeth’s health once again, began to improve. After coping with the severity of 4 miscarriages, she gave birth to a son, Pen. The pairs love, passion, and intellect ignited an eruption of famed success. The inspiration seemed more prevalent than ever, leading to both Elizabeth and Robert growing in their triumphant victories, later gaining credits from Emily Dickinson, Alfred Tennyson and Virginia Woolf, (though Elizabeth stole the spotlight).
Elizabeth heard of her father passing away, as well as an old friend back in England. Her health once again began to decline. Emotions really do wear on your physical strengths, don’t they? She enveloped herself in Italian politics and published a small volume titled Poems Before Congress. The writings expressed her sympathy toward Italy due to The Second Italian War of Independence, leading to the folks in England feeling quite disrespected and vocalizing their disapproval of her. Can’t win them all over, can we, Elizabeth?
Soon after, her sister passed in 1860. Her health sunk downward and her pain sailed high. She continued to use morphine to subdue the pain. Elizabeth passed away romantically, wrapped within her supportive husband’s arms, smiling, as if she was a little girl dreaming of candy. Her last word was, “Beautiful”. Elizabeth was only 55 years old. The reasons behind her long time of suffering and eventual death are still not confirmed. Some speculate a fall from dismounting her horse as a young girl and hitting her spine are responsible. Various modern scientists question if her suffering was hypokalemic periodic paralysis (a genetic disorder that causes extreme muscle weakness beginning at childhood, resulting in temporary loss of movement in the arms and legs).
Elizabeth is still a writer, a strong soul, and a brilliant inspiration to many. Her bravery to vocalize things that may or may not be desirable didn’t sway her intention. A true romantic and a deep thinker, Elizabeth longed for independence from those caging her and induced an undying love and connection to those who believed in her passion. During the “honeymoon stage” of her marriage, Elizabeth wrote dreamy sonnets with the thoughts of her long desired starry-eyed love, Robert. Upon sharing the writings with Robert, he revealed, “they were the finest sonnets written in any language since Shakespeare’s.”
How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Sonnet XLIII
Sonnets from the Portuguese
References:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Barrett_Browning
https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/elizabeth-barrett-and-robert-browning-elope