823. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 5, 65–67.
[Torquay]
June 23– 1841
I cannot delay my beloved friend expressing to yourself the thrilling thankful sense of escape with which I read your letter. [1] May God bless you & keep you among those who love you & look to you for love, as long as they live to do so!–
But do do tell me––how are you now? How is the spine, the jarring of which I liked least of all to hear of? Do you lie down rightly & prudently, & remain quiet in every way until the system recovers itself? Because, indeed you should—indeed dearest Miss Mitford, you must. Leave the garden to the wind & the dew, and trust the strawberry-gathering to .. K! That is the only letter you ever told me of your maid’s name, & I guess it stands for her name! Tell me if you do everything right, & nothing wrong .. & whether the swelling upon the spine has passed away. I dont like hearing of that, indeed!–
For the rest of your dear delightful letter whence are the words to come which shd thank you!—for what you say of Papa—for what you say of me—for your wish that I were near you .. without one word or fear about the teazing! How kind you are! How grateful I am to you!– How I love you out of a heart which can love though it has not loved many!– How I count your love for me among the blessings left to me, to be remembered among the tears left too. May God bless you & return it to you, my beloved friend!–
I have heard from Papa & he has heard (so he tells me) from you. You who speak pearls & diamonds without any fairy but yourself, must be used to hear of the pleasure conferred by your words. He seems to [be] pleased & over-pleased—for he is inspired into an impertinence wonderful in a country gentleman & scarcely tolerable in a poet. Shall I tell you what it is? Will you be angry? He is’nt a poet I do assure you—so dont think very ill of him. Nevertheless he had the impertinence to say (to me, mind) that the writer of such kind words as some which somebody wrote, “shd be kissed by all of us” in answer.
Ah!– I wish I were near enough to do my part in the kissing!– But dearest friend there is no settlement yet of the grand question,—& in what direction I am to remove remains less certain than the removal. To be patient during the long process of deciding, or rather of being decided for, is hard: and I who thought, not many months ago, that I never cd. care more about anything earthly relating to myself, am detected in the very act of caring a good deal, .. more than I ought, more than you wd think or do think I ought!—about this simple turning to the left or right. I dread so another separation—or isolation—such as it wd be at Clifton. No!—my physician does not recommend the place. He wd rather, I believe, that I went straight to London, & shut myself up in a large airy room, & took counsel & quietness with Dr Chambers. But he fears the journey—a journey anywhere—& has tried hard & vainly to frighten me out of the thoughts of it. I on the other hand, hold fast—& wont be frightened—simply because the moral terrors which rise up with the prospect of remaining here, are more terrible to me–
Your old houses delight me as they do you. [2] If I had a house at all, it shd be an old one—that is, if <***>
Publication: EBB-MRM, I, 230–231.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Although letter 820 gives details of Miss Mitford’s narrow escape from injury, it is apparent from EBB’s comments about her father that there was an additional letter from Miss Mitford, now missing.
2. See letter 825.
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