absurdity as may be.  What is it, after all, but an out-of-door extension of the monastic system?  The religious principle, more or less apprehended, may bind men together so, absorbing their individualities, and presenting an aim beyond the world; but upon merely human and earthly principles no such system can stand, I feel persuaded, and I thank God for it.  If Fourierism could be realised (which it surely cannot) out of a dream, the destinies of our race would shrivel up under the unnatural heat, and human nature would, in my mind, be desecrated and dishonored—­because I do not believe in purification without suffering, in progress without struggle, in virtue without temptation.  Least of all do I consider happiness the end of man’s life.  We look to higher things, have nobler ambitions.

Also, in every advancement of the world hitherto, the individual has led the masses.  Thus, to elicit individuality has been the object of the best political institutions and governments.  Now, in these new theories, the individual is ground down into the multitude, and society must be ’moving all together if it moves at all’—­restricting the very possibility of progress by the use of the lights of genius.  Genius is always individual.

Here’s a scribble upon grave matters!  I ought to be acknowledging instead your scrupulous honesty, as illustrated by five-franc pieces and Tuscan florins.  Make us as useful as you can do, for the future; and please us by coming often.  I am afraid your German Baroness could not make an arrangement with you, as you do not mention her.  Give our best regards to Miss Agassiz, and accept them yourself, dear Miss Blagden, from

Your affectionate
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

To Mr. Westwood Florence:  Thursday, December 12, 1850.

My dear Mr. Westwood,—­Your book has not reached us yet, and so if I waited for that, to write, I might wait longer still.  But I don’t wait for that, because you bade me not to do so, and besides we have only this moment finished reading ‘In Memoriam,’ and it was a sort of miracle with us that we got it so soon....

December 13.—­The above sentences were written yesterday, and hardly had they been written when your third letter came with its enclosure.  How very kind you are to me, and how am I to thank you enough!  If you had not sent me the ‘Athenaeum’ article I never should have seen it probably, for my husband only saw it in the reading room, where women don’t penetrate (because in Italy we can’t read, you see), and where the periodicals are kept so strictly, like Hesperian apples, by the dragons of the place, that none can be stolen away even for half an hour.  So he could only wish me to catch sight of that article—­and you are good enough to send it and oblige us both exceedingly.  For which kindness thank you, thank you!  The favor shown to me in it is extreme, and I am as grateful as I ought to be.  Shall I ask the ’Note