843. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 5, 111–113.
[Torquay]
August 19– 1841
My ever & beloved friend,
Your letter distresses me. You seem to live under a star of accidents, as Mr Varley wd put it [1] —and what is worse, since God’s dear mercy has cut off the evil ends of these frightful chances, you are, I am sure you are, both unwell & out of spirits in a measure which it grieves me to think of & which is beyond my reach to help. How painful yet how obvious the last thought is. To love much & to be capable of little—that is my fate!– But in regard to yours my dearest, dearly valued friend, do suffer me to say how wrong it is to suffer in this way without seeing Mr May, & only lest you shd give some momentary alarm to Dr Mitford. Yes—I wrote that “only” advisedly. You do injustice to his love for you in weighing a transient anxiety against your ultimate injury. He wd start away in grief from the thought of such a sacrifice of blood. Now do you not think, that the fever you have lately suffered from was the effect of the constant inward irritation which has been going on? And may not the evil return & increase? Why not see Mr May secretly? There may be a compromise between your fear & mine. I beseech you to remember the value of your life as before God & men—and also before those who love you. Many love you– Ah, do not many? I beseech you not to talk of springs breaking & watches going down. [2] I do not enter into it. It’s a wrong metaphor. You yet owe much to literature, much to life, much to love. There is a life precious to you, most precious—and my prayer is that it may be prolonged very very long to bless & to be blessed by your devotion. But oh my beloved friend the ties of love are not those of life—they do not break together—or I [3] should not be here. And while I am, a heart remains to love you, as even you cannot be loved by very many, and to be rent by the thought of losing you,—you too– May God bless you & make you happy, my beloved friend. I said that of myself, I scarcely know why, except that I felt it strongly. There are stronger holds for you on life, through love, (—I mean there wd be, under the grief of a possible deprivation,—) than can be found in me—in me who live on from week to week, more precariously far than the very aged do! There are strong holds for you on life. And since you have administered the sweetest offices of nature with an almost unexampled devotion & tenderness, it remains for you not to wrong her at the last by sinking beneath the pains they involve. “God is above all”, [4] in mercy as in decree. And it is something to know how the Chief Love is higher than death—how the Chief Love is the Central Love, where all loves may meet at last! The same in eternity or even time—“Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, & for ever”. [5] What other name cd go with those following words, & not be mocked at?——
Is it your habit to drive out, without Ben—only you & K—together? Dearest friend, what chances do befall you!– Write to me—do.
Your Flush “is a ..” dog! Nature may stand up & say so!– [6] He is king of the isle of dogs [7] —& his son, Prince Royal. He eats too right royally. As to my Flush, he is very fat with very little de quoi [8] —often touches nothing, will touch nothing until one o’clock in the day, and then if he does not like his dinner, only touches it. Mutton & veal he eschews in general—& even his favorite roast beef, must be cut free from fat or outside, & into very little pieces on a plate, or Mr Flush turns away. He will take a bone simetimes—but I think that it’s more for the sake of playing with it & hiding it in a corner, than anything beside. Crow has occasionally cut up mutton & beef together—& then he has picked out all the beef. He does not dislike roast rabbit or chicken. As to those large biscuits, not all the praying in the world cd recommend them to his attention. The little crisp desert biscuits he does not refuse—& ginger-bread he likes when in the humour: but altogether I never saw a dog so indifferent about eating at all, unless in “Epecurus’s stye”. [9] Tell me if yr Flush is silver-shielded like mine—marked white on the breast!– Yes—I must see him– Oh we must meet. Do you know I believe we shall go direct to London after all. But it’s so near you still!–
Your own attached
EBB.
I have had it in my head long & long, to make a petition to you. Wd you send me the least shred of your hair, [10] my beloved friend? Wd you?– It wd be such a gift. Yet say no, freely, if you think no. Mr Kenyon is expected every day—but he wont buy his “hut” since it met with (I am glad to say) a purchaser long since. [11]
Address: Miss Mitford / Three Mile Cross / near Reading.
Publication: EBB-MRM, I, 262–264.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Miss Mitford’s latest mishap was a spill from her carriage when accompanied only by her maid. John Varley (1778–1842), a landscape-painter who exhibited at the Royal Academy and the Water-colour Society, was also a devoted student of astrology, casting his own horoscope daily, and standing ready to “read the stars” for friends or pupils. Several of his predictions were said to have come true.
2. Miss Mitford had used this phrase in letter 820.
3. Underscored twice.
4. Cf. John, 3:31.
5. Hebrews, 13:8.
6. Cf. Julius Caesar, V, 5, 74–75.
7. The Isle of Dogs, a peninsula on the bank of the Thames opposite Greenwich, derived its name from the hounds kept there by Edward III for hunting in Waltham Forest.
8. “Wherewithal”; i.e., Flush grows fat though eating little.
9. James Beattie, The Minstrel (1771), I, 40, 6.
10. For incorporation in a locket or bracelet, a popular Victorian custom witnessed by the inclusion of no less than 37 locks of hair in Reconstruction (H473–508).
11. See letter 835, note 16.
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