1738. EBB to Julia Martin
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 9, 184–187.
[London]
Oct. 15. 1844.
No, my dearest Mrs Martin; it was not the eighth day. But so much the better—so much the welcomer. And I [1] shd have written if you had not,—seeing that here is a riddle, .. (read it for me!) .. that I liked your last short letter twice as well as the long one before it,— & yet that you have no need to reproach me for liking to have short letters from you! You will understand the riddle at a glance, or a thought. My second was preferable to my first of course: and now, to make sure of my whole, I could almost consent to lose caste with you & dear Mr Martin, & meddle & teaze until I persuaded you to go away at once from Colwall for the winter. I know it is not a place for Mr Martin. I cannot doubt about it—although perceiving clearly that you can have no right reason (except such as Love will make in every case) for being uneasy about him. Still, for a person not quite strong, to dare that climate which you cant explain away to me who know the nature of it, does appear so undesirable, that I could run the risk of making both of you furious with me, in order to tell you my whole doxy on the subject. If you think it too late for the continent, why not go to Hastings, which is very mild & very dry,—with good libraries, & as much or as little society as you liked,—with London in the neighbourhood, & opportunities to fly backwards & forwards as you felt inclined,—a pleasant, cheerful place, with a pretty country, & dry soil?– Is it not worth thinking over? Think of the reading rooms, & all the newspapers in the world, every morning! Isn’t it the best plan you cd fasten upon now? I believe so—but I wont teaze you any more nevertheless,—& I will even admit that you have a right (both of you) to do as you please without my reproaching you. You need not mix in the society of the place if you did not like it,—and yet your very solitude wd gather a reflex cheerfulness from the society,—you wd have amusement without excitement or fatigue—newspapers & magazines hot from the press, .. new books to read .. new faces to look at,—& nobody to speak a word to, unless you especially desired it! You will never speak again to me I dare say—which means, .. ‘you may be half vexed with me, I dare say.’ But never in my life could I help “meddling with other people’s business,” when I loved them at all. It is either a vice or a virtue in me,—& certainly I may suffer justly, if I leave you to decide which. So it is best to change the subject quickly, & thus I do it.
George went upon Sessions business yesterday, but will not approach you this time. Herefordshire treats him so ill at sessions time that he has given you up & gone to Monmouth instead,—and as the most flourishing of your lawyers makes only fifteen pounds against the fifty pounds of the Monmouth man, you must not reproach him too vivaciously for a step which costs him some regret. It was in vain, you see, that he went down to Hereford to “beat the air,” [2] & be the colder for it at the ends of his fingers. At other periods, you will behold him as usual—and, by the way, I do believe that when he sets off on circuit, he thinks nearly as much of Colwall as of his fees. He went away looking as well as he ever looked in his life, if not considerably better—and, after all, he has spent his holiday in London, to every day of it. It proves what I often say, that when he looks fagged & thin, he wants simply rest. There is a pathetic cry raised by our citizens, for fresh air & the benefits thereof; but we who live on the borders of Hampstead & who are flooded by the air of the two parks, (each hanging to the country by a strong hand,) .. cannot, I often think, raise such a cry with any pretense to a sufficient motive for it. At any rate, I do wish you could see George! and compare him with a common George on his return from circuit among your hills! It is delightful to my eyes to look on him,—or was, on Sunday night–
Not a word more have I heard from Miss Martineau,—& shall not soon perhaps,—as she is commanded not to write, not to read, .. to do nothing in fact, except the getting better. I am not, I confess, quite satisfied myself– But she herself appears to be so altogether—& she speaks of “symptoms having given way,”—implying a structural change. Yes—I use the common phrase in respect to Mesmerism, & think “there is something in it”– Only I think besides, that, if something, there must be a great deal in it. Clairvoyance has precisely the same evidence, as the phenomenon of the trance has,—and scientific & philosophical minds are recognizing all the phenomena as facts, on all sides of us. Mr Kenyon’s is the best distinction, & the immense quantity of humbug which embroiders the truth over & over, & round & round, makes it needful,—“I believe in mesmerism; but not in mesmerists–”
We have had no other letter from our Ægyptians, but can wait a little longer without losing our patience.
The blind rises in favour—& the ivy wd not fall, if it wd but live! Alas!— I am going to try guano as a last resource. You see, in painting the windows, Papa was forced to have it taken down—& the ivy that grows on ruins & oaks, is not usually taken down ‘for the nonce’. [3] I think I shall have a myrtle grove in two or three large pots, inside the window. I have a mind to try it.
I heard twice from dear Mr Kenyon at Dover where he was detained by the weather,—but not since his entrance into France. Which is grand enough word for the French Majesty itself .. “entrance into France.” By the way, I do hope you have some sympathy with me in my respect for the King of the French, that right kingly king, Louis Phillippe. If France had borne more liberty, he wd not have withheld it—and, for the rest, & in all truly royal qualities, he is the noblest king, according to my idea, in Europe—the most royal king in the encouragement of art & literature, & in the honoring of artists & men of letters. Let a young unknown writer accomplish a successful tragedy,—& the next day he sits at the king’s table—not in a metaphor, but face to face!– See how different the matter is in our court, where the artists are shown up the back stairs,—& where no poet (even by the back stairs) can penetrate, unless so fortunate as to be a banker also!– What is the use of kings & queens in these days, except to encourage Arts & letters? Really I cannot see! Anybody can hunt an otter out of a box .. who has nerve enough!——
I had a letter from America today, & heard that my book was not published there until the fifth of this October. Still, a few copies had preceded the publication, & made way among the critics, & several reviews were in the course of germinating very greenly. Yes—I was delighted with the Examiner, & all the more so from having interpreted the long delay of the notice, the gloomiest manner possible. My friends try to persuade me that the book is making some impression, & I am willing enough to be convinced. Thank you for all your kind sympathy, my dear friend!
Now do write to me soon again! Have you read Dr Arnold’s Life– I have not—but am very anxious to do so, from the admirable extracts in the Examiner of last saturday, [4] & also from what I hear of it in other quarters. That Dr Arnold must have been a man, in the largest & noblest sense.
May God bless you, both of you! I think of you dearest Mrs Martin, much .. & remain
Your very affectionate
Ba–
Publication: LEBB, I, 205–207 (in part).
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Underscored twice.
2. Cf. I Corinthians 9:26.
3. I Henry IV, I, 2, 179–180.
4. The Examiner of Saturday, 12 October 1844 (pp. 644–646), reviewed The Life and Correspondence of Thomas Arnold, D.D., late Head Master of Rugby School, and Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford (1844) by Arthur Penrhyn Stanley.
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