541. EBB to Hugh Stuart Boyd
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 3, 198–199.
[London]
Saturday. [late October 1836] [1]
My dear friend,
I am much disappointed in finding myself at the end of this week without having once seen you—particularly when your two notes are waiting all this time to be answered. Do believe that they were not, either of them, addressed to an ungrateful person, & that the only reason of their being received silently, was my hope of answering them more agreeably to both of us—by talking instead of writing.
“Yes! you have read my mystery!” [2]
You paid a tythe to your human nature, in reading only nine tenths of it—& the rest was a pure gift to your friendship for me—& is taken & will be remembered as such. But you have a cruel heart for a parody,—& this one tried my sensibility so much that I cried … with laughing. I confess to you notwithstanding,—it was very fair,—& dealt its blow with a shining pointed weapon.
But what will you say to me when I confess besides, that in the face of all your kind encouragement, my Drama of the Angels [3] has never been touched until the last three days. It was not out of pure idleness on my part, nor of disregard to your admonition—but when my thoughts were distracted with other things—books just begun enclosing me all around—a whole load of books upon my conscience—I could not possibly rise up to the gate of Heaven & write about my angels. You know, one cant sometimes sit down to the sublunary occupation of reading Greek, unless one feels free to it. And writing poetry requires a double liberty,—& an inclination which comes only of itself.
But I have begun. I tried the blank verse metre once—& it would not do—and so I had to begin again in lyrics. Something above an hundred lines is written—and now I am in two panics, just as if one were not enough. First—because it seems to me a very daring subject—a subject almost beyond our sympathies, & therefore quite beyond the sphere of human poetry. Perhaps when all is written courageously, I shall have no courage left to publish it. Secondly—because all my tendencies towards mysticism will be called into terrible operation by this dreaming upon Angels.
“Yes! you will read a mystery”.
but dont make any rash resolutions about reading anything. As I have begun, I certainly will go with the writing.
Here is a question for you.
Am I to accept your generous sacrifice of reading nine tenths of my “Vow”, as an atonement for your want of confidence in me? Oh! your conscience will understand very well what I mean, without a dictionary!
Arabel & I intend to pay you a visit on Monday, & if we can, & it is convenient to you, we are inclined to invite ourselves to your dinner table. But this is all dependent on the weather!——
Believe me dear Mr Boyd,
Your affectionate friend
E B Barrett.
Our love to Annie!
Address, on integral page: H S Boyd Esqr / 3 Circus Road / St John’s Wood.
Publication: LEBB, I, 38–39.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Dated by reference to Boyd’s reading of “The Poet’s Vow,” mentioned in the previous letter.
2. Taken to be an allusion to the first line of “The Poet’s Vow”: “Eve is a twofold mystery.”
3. i.e., “The Seraphim.”
___________________
