1034. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 6, 122–125.
[London]
Oct. 27th 1842.
Thank you my beloved friend, for your delightful thrice welcome letter, which at my bed-side ‘bade good morrow’ [1] just as I opened my eyes for the day. Welcome it was, once or twice, as from you; & thrice, as bringing such a better account of your dear patient beyond the reach of my hopes– Never lark sang more pleasantly than your letter did! By the look of it, on the outside, I who am a prophet, knew that he was rather better than otherwise; but, to be sure, to be so well as that, did reach beyond the best of my hopes. I congratulate you,—I thank God for you my beloved friend! And I wait for the sign of your hand about the grapes, eager to send them both for him & you: & pastilles besides, .. I must not forget .. and the chocolate & salts. As for the ‘thank yous’ do be kind & good & save me from hearing them. I have a sort of right of love to helping you with these little things, without being punished with those ‘thank yous’. ‘Thank you’ does for strangers, but not at all for people who love each other. That is my doxy; and I am a bigot to it.
What it must have been to you to pray with him again—and to hear his voice speak love again in the old tune! Is your Vicar a gentle simple man? [2] you have never praised him to me. Papa is my chaplain, .. prays with me every night, .. not out of a book, but simply & warmly at once,—with one of my hands held in his & nobody besides him & me in the room. That is dear in him,—is it not? And he with his elastic spirit & merry laugh!– One might as little expect such an act from the youngest of my brothers (at first sight!) as from him. When I was so ill he used to do it constantly I think, and altho’ I cd not understand what he said, through the wanderings of my mind at that time, yet I had a sort of vague satisfaction in seeing him kneel down there & in feeling that he was praying for all of us. It was strange, my state then, & looks to me from hence like a dreamed of dream! I am sure I never prayed myself for a long while. I seemed to lie too near to God to pray—as if the sword were close to my neck, & I, lying without hope or fear, cd not speak to the striker. It was power & weakness meeting together—my sense of power in Him—my sense of weakness in myself. It was no doubting of His mercy, none of his love—but the Hand had struck me & I cd not speak.
And here am I writing all sorts of mournfulnesses to you when I ought to write gaieties. I shall be sent to that drawer which I hired, you know, for the particular use of such letters of mine, as make themselves disagreeable. I shall certainly be sent to my drawer. In selfdefence I will tell you that our dear Mr Kenyon comes home today at three oclock; and that tomorrow he is to have a dinner-party. So you think me old enough to have twenty gentlemen in my bedroom if I please, according to the order of the garter! [3] Agreed! but then, but then .. this Papa of mine would, even if I were fifty, most certainly demur to it. He is twice as ‘proper’, do you know, as I am who have the misfortune to be a “good for nothing poetess”?– He is indeed. And besides, I am scarcely inclined & fit yet in anything but age, for any of the twenty except dear Mr Kenyon—not in strength, not in spirits—and besides, next summer when I am, you say, & I hope sometimes, to see all my gods and one goddess, I shall take my place for a part of the day in the back drawing room. I was down stairs four or five times this year,—and if I can but keep up ...... oh yes, yes! you shall do whatever you please with me next year my beloved friend, .. provided ..... always provided .....!
Mr Haydon sent my sonnet to Wordsworth—did I tell you? And to my astonishment, to my great great pleasure this morning, [4] a note very gentle & gracious, from Wordsworth himself was in my hands! I shall throw myself at Mr Haydon’s feet for procuring me such a pleasure! he was the means of it obviously!– The great poet speaks of the obscurity of the line you remarked upon, & suggests an alteration which unhappily is just too late for the Athenæum, but which is available for a republication. [5] A letter from Wordsworth! Dont tell anybody, but I kissed it. And he speaks so kindly of his intention of calling upon me when he was last in London!–
Yes—my dearest friend! we know the Tulk’s very well, & the Gordons better still. Mr Gordon’s only sister was the second wife of my beloved uncle, Papa’s only brother, & is remarried, within these two years, to a Mr Roberts. The Gordons have been besides old friends of our family, through the West Indian connection. That parting was, to be sure, a terrible event! And yet from what George had said to me, who went down to Westminster to see them a few days before the departure & found the two families together, I had hoped that they all bore up gallantly. They were laughing & joking he said!—but perhaps that was, not to cry. Ah yes! I do feel deeply for them. And Mrs Gordon was Mr Tulke’s best beloved daughter—the very favorite! and since her marriage, he had lived as much with her, the several houses being near together in Duke Street, as he did while she sate at his hearth, Caroline Tulke. [6] He … but the post is imperious. The rest shall be for another day.
Your own
EBB–
Publication: EBB-MRM, II, 59–62.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Cf. “L’Allegro,” line 46.
2. In a letter to Miss Jephson, November 1842, Miss Mitford wrote that “My dear father … has been composed and collected, so as to derive much comfort from the clergyman of the parish, and from my reading to him and praying with him” (L’Estrange (2), III, 161–162).
3. “Honi soit qui mal y pense” (“Shame to him who evil thinks”). See letter 1030 for the earlier reference to EBB’s receiving visitors in her bedroom.
4. The receiving-office stamp on the envelope shows this to have been the morning of the 28th.
5. Despite this comment, EBB did not make use of Wordsworth’s suggestion (see letter 1033, note 2).
6. John Gordon, a friend of Bro and a barrister, married Caroline Augusta, daughter of Charles Augustus Tulk, in 1834. John’s sister, Anne Elizabeth Gordon, had become the second wife of EBB’s uncle Sam in 1833; he died in 1837 and in 1840 she married Martin Roberts. The “parting” to which EBB refers was the departure of Mr. Gordon and his wife for Australia to promote a business venture (see Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Letters to Mrs. David Ogilvy 1849–1861, eds. Heydon and Kelley, pp. 15–16).
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