Correspondence

1118.  EBB to Mary Russell Mitford

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 6, 273–277.

[London]

Jany 7– 1843–

My beloved friend, what have I said to excite you so?– And supposing a certain probability, what wd be more right & natural or necessary to my own feelings?– But we wont talk any further of it. That you shd dwell so upon the little trifles you mention, is a proof of your kindness & tenderness rather than of mine. You magnify objects with the light of your own eyes– For the rest, I assure you I have done nothing—heard nothing—& I beseech you to think nothing more about it. Only a public right must be my right—and you would not cast me so far from you as to except me from those whom you honor by accepting their assistance– [1] What, my dearest friend? Do you mean to lash me into a frenzy of jealousy against Mr Kenyon, by saying such words? I am turning into a greeneyed monster [2] at the first hearing of them!—take care that you dont say any more– I shall thread my needle & muse of sewing up his eyelids according to the last direction from the French horror-mongers, [3] if you provoke me to it by such words!– Dont you know what jealousy is? Read Othello– Ah my dearest friend, if I were able—rich enough & free,—nobody shd be first or second, in this thing, to me; because I shd set myself to proving my claim to free you from the pressure with my single hand as a matter of right & love—right of love! As it is, all in my power is just worth jesting of—and so I jest. And now let us talk of more serious subjects.

Do you know, I lean a little to Ben’s view of the preferable residence. I am afraid of your description of the large family—the daughters grown up or to be grown up! They may be angels—and yet you may live too near them. You may find yourself under restraint,—oppressed—cramped as to time & leisure– You promise your society to them by accepting the conditions of so near a neighbourhood—& the more capable of appreciating you this family may be, the more sensitive they may be .. the more easily vexed by your not being with them, walking with them, talking with them continually. And the politics of large families are sometimes complex. I am afraid of the liberal merchant, & the beautiful wife, & the grown up daughters & the growing up daughters & the heirs male. And besides, there is no garden,—is there a garden?– And there will be no Ben. And I absolutely agree with Ben that he & the poney carriage shd remain with you–

Such are my thoughts of Caversham Hill—(is it Caversham Hill?) & if they are wrong, no harm is done,—as they are only intended for your consideration. I wd however earnestly advise you (supposing advice of mine to be worth more than its ordinary market-price of half a sous! [sic]) to pause a little, & wait to hear what Mr Smith says, before you make any agreement, for or against, with the wine merchant. [4] It has crossed my fancy also, that the proprietor of your present residence may lower the rent when he finds you preparing to leave it,—in which case, you might prefer not to leave the beloved garden & the well-known rooms. [5] It is not like me, you will say, to talk so. But I talk so, not for myself. You evidently lean, your heart leans, to the ‘old haunts & associations’– [6] They are soothing to you—full of a “pleasing pain”! [7] And therefore to retain the old house wd accord better with your inclinations, than to go farther or otherwhere—and certainly I & all the world do yearn, (must) not to separate you from that garden, that summer-seat .. the places you have rendered classical to everybody, & dear to many. Now do remember,—I sit on the treasury benches [8]  .. next to Ben.

Flush stands nearest to you in consequence—so I wont talk of my poetry until we get nearer to my letter’s appendix– Flush is quite well again—thanks to you & Ben—& screams no more. As to London I persist in thinking, tell Master Ben, that London agrees with him perfectly. He has quite as much exercise here as he had in Devonshire—frequently in the parks, & occasionally as far as Hampstead: & he might have more if it were not for his excessive fineness as to society, which prevents his choosing to go out with anybody except Arabel or Crow—or Sette on the sunday afternoon when the two great dogs are taken out en grande compagnie [9] Not Mrs Trollope on the right hand of Prince Metternich, [10] cd rejoice more in la crême de la crême, than does my Flushie. Call it fineness, or call it cowardice .. he is unpersuadable by & inaccessible to the majority–

Certainly, as people represent to me, he leads an unnatural life in this room of mine—but how can I help it?– He wont leave me for anybody in the world except Crow– He likes my brothers & sisters & Papa or Trippy to come into the room—overwhelms them with salutations—plays with them joyously—of Arabel he is particularly fond & deserts my side to lie in her lap & kiss & play with her,—all the time they & she & [sic] remain in my room– But the instant, anyone of them says “Flush will you go down stairs with me”, .. he darts off as if they had struck him with an instrument of violence—darts off & rushes to me throwing himself into my arms, kissing me for protection—pushing earnestly into me with glittering dilated eyes as if he wd seek there some innermost security– Is it not both strange & pretty? Papa asks him ‘to go down stairs with him’ everyday, & the effect is invariable—upon which he always says “What a fool that dog is,”—& laughs– Nobody can help smiling, really, to observe the effect of the solicitation. Flushie runs as if a cat were running after him—& that is the climax of his possible terrors & fastest flights.

He likes to go out to walk, though,—he likes that to ecstasy, whenever he is sure of his company. And if my brothers ask him to go out .. his agitation between his taste for the thing & his dislike of the escort generally ends by his beginning to cry. He puts his head on my shoulder & begins to cry—just like a child who complains of being teazed, & cries! They always tell me that Flush is a spoilt child, & really he does sometimes remind even myself of one–

I have no doubt that Ben was right as to the cause of the screaming; but Flush is quite well now—& when you see him you will agree with me that he is improved in beauty & roundness & grace. Was he four months or eight months old when he came to me? Tell me—for I forget, & want to be reminded. With all his love for this dark silent room, he never was more gleesome & vivacious than he is now—more given to leaping & running, & stealing gloves & doing all sorts & conditions of mischief. He might be a puppy still, as far as his ‘wild oats’ [11] are concerned– And then, when the playfellows are gone, to lie so gently & silently & closely to me– ‘What shd I do without my Flushie’– And I owe him to you my beloved friend!– And you talk of oysters!– [12]

I thank you twenty times—(wd, except for tiring you) for your note to Mr Whittaker [13] —but I have not sent it yet—& perhaps, perhaps, I shant. Well!—we will think of it—I will .. a little longer. I shd be more than satisfied for Mr Whittaker to undertake the business, if the business be undertaken at all, which sta in forse. [14] And supposing the decision to be for the publication (& I must talk it over with Papa previously to anything) how shall I be brazen enough to send this note of yours, the very inspiration of kindness to be sure, but so on the outside of a bookseller’s view of the question? “My splendid reputation in England & America”!! My dearest friend! suppose Mr Whittaker shd rub his spectacles clear, & look again—& smile—& say of Miss Mitford what so many of her friends do say of her .. that when she speaks in friendship, her judgment is dimmed or suspended. Dont you know that they say so of you, my beloved friend? Ah!—they do, indeed! And I who love you earnestly, & none the less for occasionally mistaking an affection for a criticism, & using the one in the place of the other—admit .. sometimes .. that they are right .. sometimes–

Therefore how right you must be when you blame critically those whom you love affectionately. Therefore how I shd weigh every word of disapprobation attaching to my poems from you, & attribute to them double weight. Not value your candour & frankness, my beloved friend! Do you think I do not? Ah—if I do not improve up to the line of your corrections, it is not that I underrate the correcting hand.

I have been thinking, then, of the Brown Rosarie. My own notion had certainly been, that it was superior as a composition to the Page—but I mention this to prove how we mistake ourselves. Still, if I admit it into the new volume at all, I am inclined to think that it ought not to be broken into fragments, by which means, the whole intention & idea of the poem wd be lost. The child too, could not be retained in a fragment—and I shd have regrets for the Dream of Lenora, which appeared to me rather original in its manner, as far as printed poetry was concerned [15] —you told me I remember that Mr Chorley had something like it in MS—but that circumstance does not detract from the originality as far as I and the public are concerned. Altogether you .. <***>

Publication: EBB-MRM, II, 148–152.

Manuscript: Folger Shakespeare Library and Wellesley College.

1. A reference to the impending public subscription to alleviate Miss Mitford’s financial straits.

2. Othello, III, 3, 166.

3. See letter 1063 for an earlier reference to Soulié’s novel.

4. Miss Mitford was thinking of economizing by moving to cheaper quarters. In a letter of 4 April 1843 she tells Harness how she had been offered rent-free accommodation for nine months of the year at Caversham, two miles north of Reading (L’Estrange (2), III, 171). We have not identified Mr. Smith.

5. Miss Mitford decided to stay on at Three Mile Cross when her rent was reduced by £5 a year (see letter of 4 April 1843 to George Moulton-Barrett).

6. We have not located the source of this quotation.

7. Spenser, The Faerie Queene, III, x, 60, 4.

8. In the House of Commons the treasury bench, the first bench on the Speaker’s right, is occupied by the Leader of the House and other members of the Government.

9. “In the best company.”

10. In Vienna and the Austrians (1838), Mrs. Trollope tells how Metternich “led me to dinner, and I had the advantage of his conversation while it lasted … my admiration was the natural result of listening to opinions I approved” (II, 10). Prince von Metternich (1773–1859) dominated European diplomacy during his term as Chancellor of Austria (1809–48).

11. i.e., indulging in youthful excesses, “sowing his wild oats.” Flush was now two years old.

12. i.e., Miss Mitford’s thanks for a gift of oysters cannot be compared to the gratitude owed by EBB for the gift of Flush.

13. Regarding the possibility of his undertaking to publish EBB’s projected volume of poems.

14. “Remains in doubt.”

15. In discussing what to include in Poems (1844) Miss Mitford had apparently suggested shortened versions of some of EBB’s contributions to Findens’ Tableaux.

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