840. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 5, 104–107.
[Torquay]
August 5. 1841
Now for Flush’s turn .. after the poets!– And he may “side the gods” [1] as well as another.
I think I told you, I am sure I meant to do so, that pretty as he was when he came here first, he is prettier now and does indeed grow prettier & prettier every day. He is not merely fatter comparatively, but fat positively—& how we cant quite make out, for his appetite matches in delicacy a May Fair lady’s at the close of the season. It is the milk, I suppose, that does it. He is fond of milk—& when any is brought to me in a cup he wont let me drink a whole half without a hint that the rest belongs to him. He waits till his turn comes, till he thinks it is come—and then if I loiter, as I do sometimes pretend to do, Mr Flush tries to take possession of the cup by main force. His ears which you were inclined to criticise are improved—grown thicker & longer, and fall beautifully in golden light over the darker brown of his head & body. He is much admired for beauty—particularly for that white breastplate which marks him even among dogs of his colour—Flush the silvershielded!–
But the beauty shd come last. I assure you that he does not in intellect & sensibility disgrace his high lineage!– I cd tell you two or three volumes of wonderful stories upon either count. If I were another Scheherazade [2] I cd save my head by talking of Flush.
What really astounds me sometimes is his intelligence of words—not of gesture, not of countenance but articulate words .. Whisper them in his ear & its the same. Crow says (she taught him, which accounts for the ceremony) “Go to Miss Barrett”—and up he rushes to my side in a moment. Nay—if she says so in another room or down stairs or even out of doors, straightway he is galloping to my door, & I hear him turning the handle after his fashion, not scratching dogwise, but turning & shaking the handle, in a way which suggested itself to his observation as the ordinary means of opening a door. Nobody taught him that—but he always does it—& the effect is curious. Then if you say to him “Kiss me Flush”, he does it directly. “Lie down”—“Be quiet”—the action follows the phrase.
His greatest pleasure of all is to be taken out to walk—and when some of the walkers pass through my bedroom into one adjoining to put on their bonnets, you shd see Flush’s eyes brighten as he leaps off my bed to investigate the subject & discover if really they are going. The sight of a head in a bonnet stirs him into an ecstasy. He dances and dances, & throws back his ears almost to his tail in Bacchic rapture. More than once he has lost his balance & fallen over. And then if after all, the cruel person in the bonnet shd say .. “No Flush! I cant take you today”. Ah then is the change! Now dont think me romancing,—but at the utterance of those words, he stands still, suddenly still, looking up to the cruel eyes in visible consternation! He stands so, just a moment,—and then leaps up to me, & kisses my hands & face after his fashion, that I may intercede for him. Now I do assure you it is’nt romancing! He always does this. It is not once or twice—but always. I am his friend & take his part and spoil him—and in every disappointment & fright he always comes to me, that I may do my best for him. And if in the going out business, I can do nothing,—and the sentence is repeated “No Flush—you cant go out today” .. why then, Flush is a philosopher & lies down again by me & never tries even to follow the bonnet out of the room. Now is’nt it clever of Flush?
He is washed twice a week notwithstanding your threat of premature grey hairs. But what cd I do? He insists upon lying close by me on the bed,—& we must as a consequence see to the ablutions. He hates them though,—& is only comforted afterwards, by being wrapt up in my shawl for the rest of the evening. I forgot to do it properly the other day. The shawl was there, & he was lying on it, but the wrapping up was not perfected—and Mr Flush did make such a fuss—licked my hand, & then bit & scratched at the shawl with tooth & paw, until my memory came back to me, & I covered him up all but the nose like a Turkish lady!
Crow says “he is as particular about his dinner as her Majesty.” That is Crow’s opinion. She often tells me—“Flush has scarcely touched his dinner today, because it was only boiled mutton.” He & she have been from the first most tender friends—and I am jealous sometimes. Yes, I do think that he is both most afraid of her & loves her most of any– You see, she has had a good deal to do with necessary parts of his education—has whipped him a little,––and played with him a good deal. I cant play with him as Crow can & does—and a game at ball or at romps generally, touches Flush’s heart, next the cockles. How his eyes glisten whenever she comes into the room!– But he wont stay away from me even for her. He wont rest anywhere but by me. He considers this room to be between us, part mine & part his—& if the door is not opened to him directly, I hear him cry on the other side. In regard to the matter of courage I shd be sorry to shock Ben or to disgrace you, but certain it is that Flush was never born for a hero. Certainly he is not so bad as he was. For instance, he does not shiver much when he sees himself in the glass,—and, out of doors, he does not expect, upon meeting a dog or passing near a flock of geese, to be taken up & carried. We are braver than we were. But still—if a cat stands & stares at us, we retreat prudently—if it runs our way by accident however free of hostile intention, we cry out piteously—if a stranger tries to pat our pretty head, we shrink away, backwards or sidewards—we have not, in fact, reached the point of heroism.
But when everybody cries out “I never saw such a coward as that dog is,” my apology for him is just this. It is the predominant sweetness & softness of his disposition which keeps him aloof from the “shadow before” [3] of ‘wars alarms’. [4] He says to himself—“Now this may be the first step to a fight—and it being quite contrary to my principles & temper to fight, I shall beware of taking it”. Flush has never, since he has been here, hurt any living thing or tried to hurt it—& he wont do so. Even the other day when that naughty boy Edwin [5] tied a live mouse by the tail to a chair’s leg, & Flush’s friend the kitten, yet too young to slay, was trying to beat it down with its paw, Flush stood by superior, close by, with eyes as large as four, looking Crow says “very much amused” but “never attempting to touch” the poor little victim himself. She cut the string & let it escape.
The friendship with the kitten continues fast as ever. It runs after him like a puppy—and he thinks nothing of carrying it up stairs in his mouth. Then he lies down, & suffers the little snowy thing to roll over him & play with his ears & thurst [sic] its paw into his mouth. There is love on both sides. But Flush has a passion besides, for young children & babies. So have I—and if ever one is carried in for me to look at, as happens now & then, he is in ecstasies—dancing round & round the room after the person carrying it,—& carressing it after his fashion most tenderly. When Arabel goes into a cottage & Flush is with her, he is by the cradleside in a moment, with his nose pushed under the bed-cloaths—till the poor mother comes to the rescue, in the natural belief that her baby is about to be eaten. It’s just the same in the street. If he meets a nurse & baby, he forgets all strangership & dances round it, & pulls peradventure at its frock. A child sixteen months old came here the other day. He was delighted—wdnt lie down—could’nt keep still a moment,—& made the poor child scream more than once with his fearful familiarities,—& won its heart at last by suffering it to feed him with breadbutter which he wdnt take from any hand but just that little infantine hand. So there they settled down at last, his two paws upon her knee & his eyes on her face! No notice from Flush to anybody else as long as she stayed!– Even the kitten was neglected,—& took comfort by playing with his tail while he wagged it unconsciously–
The degree of his timidity may be measured by the fact, that although he delights beyond delight in going out to walk, he never attempts to do it by himself. He never attempts to go beyond a few yards from the door. Once indeed he was missed for an hour, & came home just at dinner time quite out of breath. I dont know how he was incited to this—but it happened some time ago, & he never has repeated it.
I fancy sometimes that he was used to be in your stables a good deal. Was it so? They tell me of his running up to all the horses he meets! He was not at first quite a Brahmin as to cleanliness [6] —a young dog & perhaps not kept strictly in the house .. was he?—but now (whch indeed was the case after the first week or two) he is faultless in this respect.
A letter sacred to Flush! Well—you asked me for his history, so must pardon the length of it. It’s a post[s]cript to the letter yesterday.
Do let me hear how you are beloved friend! If many of my thoughts end in you, this of Flush must. How he makes me think of you! How every pleasure he gives me, is one drawn from you! How I love him for your sake!—which is the sure way of loving him dearly.
God bless you my beloved friend. There are faults of construction in Cosmo—but in Gregory [7] the constructive faculty seems to me strong. At the same time it might not do upon what we call the stage.
Again the post hour surprises me. Love to dear Dr Mitford. Now do say how you both are—particularly you. I am not easy yet about the effect of the fire. [8] You are shaken by it. Ah do take care of yourself my dearest friend!–
Ever your attached
EBB–
Is there any annual this year? Or are (which wd be so much better) the letters coming out? [9] Perhaps you are too occupied for either. No Mr Kenyon.
Address: Miss Mitford / Three Mile Cross / Near Reading.
Publication: EBB-MRM, I, 256–260.
Manuscript: Eton College Library and Wellesley College.
1. EBB may have had in mind Θεοι παρεδρος, “those sitting near the gods”; she had alluded to the phrase in Diary, p. 48.
2. The daughter of the Grand Vizier, who staved off death by recounting the 1,001 stories of The Arabian Nights.
3. Thomas Campbell, “Lochiel’s Warning” (1802), line 56.
4. Thomas Hood, “Faithless Nelly Gray” (1826), line 2.
5. Edwin Hingson, at this time just a boy, remained in the Moulton-Barretts’ service for a number of years; references to him in secondary material point to his being the senior male servant in the household at the time of EBB’s father’s death in 1857.
6. The Brahmins, a priestly order, formed the highest Hindu caste.
7. Horne’s Cosmo de’ Medici and Gregory VII.
8. Miss Mitford’s accident the previous month (see letter 832, note 13).
9. Miss Mitford was not involved in the 1842 Findens’ Tableaux. Her projected edition of correspondence with Sir William Elford (see letter 737, note 1) never materialized.
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