t review some months ago on
the German Socialists, ably embracing in its analysis the fraternity
in France, and attributed, I have since heard, to Dr. Hanna, the
son-in-law and biographer of Chalmers. Christian Socialists are by no
means a new sect, the Moravians representing the theory with as
little offence and 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