1521. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 8, 189–192.
[London]
Tuesday. [?6] [February 1844] [1]
Indeed my dearest friend, you are as important to me as my Eden, & I must write to you, let what besides lose by it. Now would I give anything for power to cast out this devil from you, [2] of going to Jersey! But I “know what a fancy is”; &, to my horror & terror, you have a “fancy”—a determination, .. an imagination of a “necessity”!—and the devil is stronger than my holy water. You will go, I see—and I cannot help it—either by these word[s] or any others. Alas!
And now, my beloved friend, you will be patient with me, while you hear me say, as quietly as I can, my convictions on this subject .. I would not teaze you for the world. You “have a fancy”: and I know too well what it is: and you will go to Jersey. You will go. You will be pleased or displeased, .. I do not thoroughly know which, .. at first: but, at last, you will find yourself disappointed & mistaken, & have to return to England at increase of expense. This is as clear to me, as if I saw it “out of the body” [3] in the book of destiny. [4] You shut yourself out from the presence of all your friends, far more completely than if you went to France,—and in a manner which is, to my view, a thousand times more objectionable. You remove from the particular sphere of your personal consideration. You place a sea-voyage of many hours, .. from twelve to fifteen, I think,—between yourself & any part of England. And you commit yourself to that moist & warm climate which, I have often heard you observe, was particularly prejudicial to your health. These are facts. The advantages may be as undeniable: but they are at least to be confronted with these facts. And moreover, it appears to me that the evidence of persons who have been residents at Jersey, is worthy of being confronted with the evidence of mere visitors, who saw it as in a dream. And moreover it appears to me that if one’s house is liable to be broken open, a lock may at times be a desirable luxury.
Let all this pass however. You will go, I see. And my request, my prayer & beseeching, shall be limited to this reasonable head, .. that you go without your furniture in the first instance, & live there for two or three months, before you enter into the expences of a final removal. Will you grant this to me, my beloved friend? I agree with you freely & fully, that if, at last, you like Jersey better than England, & are able to live there more at ease, more happily, with greater enjoyment upon the whole, .. that you are not only justified, but wise & to be imitated, in your determination to give up everything & live there. But what makes me anxious & uneasy, is the contention, I forsee, betwixt your ultimate distaste for the place, & the difficulty you will find in removing a second time. The expense of moving furniture, is something immense,—as I know, .. although our furniture was removed from Herefordshire entirely by water carriage, in the cheapest possible way. And then the breaking, the injury done by the most careful packing—the expense of packing itself!– Surely it wd be wise in you, to see Jersey for yourself,—nay, to try the life & society of Jersey for yourself—above all things, to try its climate,—& the effect upon you of a sea voyage. Do you remember what you said to me of the medical opinion addressed to you about sea voyages in relation to you?– And do you consider that the voyage to the Channel Islands is by no means, like the passing from Dover to Calais—that it is a much more serious matter? You talk of coming to London often. You will find it impossible to act out that promise. The expense & the exertion are obstacles which stand erect. And on the other hand, which of your friends will be in circumstances ever to go & see you?– You will be cut off & shut in.
Thus you will be dependent on the society you find. And you expect to find “the best society out of London”; an expectation which appears to me absolutely without foundation, .. & scarcely reasonable, (forgive me my dearest friend) when you come to examine it. I only ask you to examine it at leisure—and to bring your experience to the question, before you decide it finally. I am very uneasy about you.
Certainly there may be regular communication between Jersey & England, & of course there is, to a degree. But I believe you will find that the communication is not as frequent in the winter as in the summer. I believe it is not so.
Think over it all, I beseech you! And grant to my prayers, that you will delay the removal of your furniture.
In respect to K., .. having expressed a truthful opinion, I will not torment you further. As long as you make yourself happy, I am not likely to object to any possible act of the process. Unkindly or ungenerously it is impossible for you to act, .. being yourself.
As for the mystery of my not speaking to you of the “Mysteries of Paris”, it lies in my mistaking you (I honestly confess it) & not by any means in my understating the power of the work. It is a work of genius & power without any manner of doubt, & it remains so classed in my own thoughts. But you will remember, my dearest friend, that notwithstanding your interest & eagerness in the opening of the French books we talked of .. George Sand & Balzac, .. you were somewhat cold in their appreciation,—and were by no means carried off your feet, by a sympathy with their genius. You saw their faults so clearly & strongly, that I did not once think of talking to you of Eugene Sue, .. who certainly seems to me, beyond comparison more extravagant & unnatural, & quite as coarse. I thought you detested that odour of the stews, & slang of thieves, from which Bulwer, like Eugene Sue, has drawn forth his ideals; & I thought you wd be struck & repelled by the unnatural, or rather supernatural eliciting of that “figure de vierge”, that divine ‘Fleur de Marie,’ from the Parisian dens. [5] To me who do not look so much at “probabilities” as at effects, these contrasts had a beauty & glory of their own—but I confess to you that I am absolutely astonished .. and pleased too, .. at your receiving the work into your admiration. Not that I go as far as you do. Your putting Eugene Sue over the head of Victor Hugo for instance, makes me open my eyes far & wide.
The Athenæum, in an incidental mention of these Mysteries of Paris, said, “one of the worst of the morally bad French romances”,—something to that effect: [6] & I never set it down in my thoughts (I confess to you) as a hard judgement. For the rest,—whether Sue shows his evil opinions in respect to human nature generally, in this work or not, .. he does so in other works—and he is, on that particular account, very often, most painful & repulsive. You will say so, when you know more of him.
May God bless you, my dearest, ever dearest Miss Mitford. Take care of yourself—even in your thoughts.
Ah—you have ruffled mine about you, to such a rufflement!!
If you had been writing books, you see, your fancy wd not have done half the harm!–
Ever affectionately yours
EBB–
I think Flushie wants to send his love to you; he is biting so at this letter–
Publication: EBB-MRM, II, 383–386.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. The day is conjectured by the repetition of the reference to “Eden,” with which EBB ended her last letter to Miss Mitford (no. 1517). The continuing discussion of Miss Mitford’s plan to move to Jersey places this letter in February 1844.
2. Cf. Luke, 9:49.
3. II Corinthians, 12:2.
4. Donne, “A Funerall Elegie” (1611), line 84.
5. La Goualeuse, one of the protagonists of Les Mystères de Paris, was also called Fleur-de-Marie, “mots qui, en argot, signifient la Vierge” (“words which, in argot, signify the Virgin”). (See chapter II.)
6. In the course of a review of George Sand’s Consuelo, The Athenæum characterized Les Mystères de Paris as “that most poisonous of all the extravagancies circulated by the French periodical press” (26 August 1843, no. 826, p. 766).
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