783. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 4, 310–311.
[Torquay]
Dec. 28th 40.
My ever dearest Miss Mitford,
When you first ‘thrust the honor’ [1] of your little Flush upon me, I clasped it by the first impulse, as I think I told you, ‘with both hands’! [2] But now I stand perplexed—(oh, dont wonder at me!) & loose my hold. Because you see, my beloved friend, with all my thankfulness to you & dear Dr Mitford for wishing me the space of a minute, to have yr Flush, I could not be comfortable in going farther than the thankfulness, into an acceptance. Oh no! Let me say ‘oh no’ without building up a character for capriciousness!– I keep the thankfulness– I thank you both cordially—but I let little Flush go–
In the first place, the dog is of far too great value; whch objection I never thought of at first––knowing, you see, so little about dogs!– The price I set upon him, was his having been near you: the inherent value was overlooked. And indeed, a very small, quiet little dog was the limit of my dog-ambition—and a larger one, a valuable one, & fit for sporting purposes wd be thrown away upon me, & exposed to a martyrdom, whether in this room, or hereafter, in London. You will understand how it is dearest kindest Miss Mitford!– You will understand how foolish, almost cruel, I shd be, to introduce a sporting valuable spaniel into the London Streets prison, for ever & ever. Dr Mitford will agree with me, that it wdnt do at all. But I thank you—both of you—none the less—& shall hope, to greet the paternal Flush some day at Three Mile Cross, in lieu of the earlier greeting of his son!–
And perhaps no dog wd quite suit me, with my present habits, except a certain Mayfair one of which I once heard––given, whenever exposed to the cold air, to faint away & be revived with hartshorn. Until I meet with its counterpart, I must try to do “without a velvet gown or a little dog or a gentleman usher, or anything befitting a lady.” [3]
You say nothing about the Letter-book [4] or other books—& I am so anxious to hear. Do you know I half wish the last Finden stories out of the Finden annual. They are too good for the annual Fairy circle where, however sweet the music, no green grows. Dont you think that a volume of your delightful stories might be hazarded next year at annual time with some annual splendor of binding, so as to be bought by annual buyers, yet not desecrated in the estimation of the ‘higher orders’ by being actually an annual. The very name is poison strong enough to dissolve—with many persons,—I observe—even the spell of your’s.
Think of dear Mr Kenyon’s kindness in sending me a box of sulphuric casts [5] <***>
Publication: EBB-MRM, I, 209–211.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Twelfth Night, II, 5, 146.
2. Micah, 7:3.
3. We have not located the source of this quotation.
4. Yet another enquiry about the progress of Miss Mitford’s projected edition of letters (see letter 737, note 1).
5. “An impression taken of a seal, medallion, etc. in a composition consisting of sulphur and wax” (OED).
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