Correspondence

867.  EBB to Mary Russell Mitford

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 5, 159–161.

50 Wimpole Street

Nov. 2d 1841

Thank you my dearest dearest friend for doing what it was at once so kind & so wrong to do—writing that long note to me when you were tired & when it was too late to write at all. The two words “Quite safe” were the only ones I asked for—and if I had known (as I might,—knowing you) the excess that asking for them wd induce, I wd have tried to be reasonable instead & to suppress my fear of the railway. Well—but you are no longer tired I hope—and here is the dear letter surviving its own evil. [1] I will think of that, and love you my beloved friend for everything.

Ah—you are too kind to me!—both of you—dear Dr Mitford & you!– And how at the end you deceive yourselves in a way which makes even my grave gratitude smile—pretending yourselves to be obliged,—& thanking others for your own goodness! What a curious delusion it is, dearest friend! You for instance, coming this long way by that noisy railway, just to see me—as in your naïvetè you admit—and immediately turning round to thank me for my infinite kindness in being not actually a flint, & pleased to see you!– You for instance, with your touching kindness & varied powers of charming, falling down in the midst of us all like a goddess—& then thanking everybody who by imperfect gesture of hand or knee acknowledged the avatar!– As to Papa he is quite overwhelmed. He stopped me in the midst of the delivery of your message to him. “What had he done”—he said—“What had been in his power.”? What have I done, is to be said still more emphatically. What have I ever done,—ever since I first looked at you—but honored you as all the world does, and loved you as I could’nt help?

I am only just awaking from the dream which began last thursday. Since saturday, I have been rubbing my eyes. It was so strange, so supernatural to me—so happy besides! How hard to thank you. We talk Miss Mitford now, constantly. I am still nearer to you my beloved friend!– And altho’ the more you know of me, something must ever more be taken from the superfluity of your estimation of me, yet as you never can find out that I do not love you, I am not afraid of falling down the worst depth—while your improved knowledge of what is mine, of those who are the dearest to me, and their own experience of the charm which is in you, must draw us more closely together. May God bless you always!– I am not worse as to health, indeed.

The night before last I went to sleep & had a dream of you & the Haymarket. I think the omen was good. Otto was certainly accepted [2] —but a glorious confusion of personality between Celeste [3] & my Flush, prevents my giving a very distinct account of the process. I am so glad you found the scene. That was something to go back for. [4] And now do tell me, oh do tell me the whole result. The uncertainty keeps me swinging backwards & forwards between a cypress & an olive tree!—every now & then, pricking my feet against a holly. [5] If I tumble, it will be among the nettles!– Judge how uncomfortable I must be!–

Half an hour ago I received a letter a psychical letter, [6] from Mr Horne, which made me smile almost to laughing, it struck with such an unconscious rebound against your love-opinion upon my dramatic faculty. Now hear what he says: & “My enemy does not say so” [7] —but my friend—one who is most generous in his general praises, & most, not merely inclined but resolute,—to think well of my poetry. Now hear—& hear besides that I in my inmost conscience recognize his judgment on this point, as being very nearly if not altogether just & righteous as Daniel’s!– [8] “—Inasmuch as I have perceived .. or fancied I saw .. that all the different characters in your various writings, are not very different, nor very much of characters in themselves, but rather the medium or vehicle of certain abstract thoughts & images & principles; and forasmuch as they are not of any age, nor of any period of time, nor of any sex character nor physiognomy—but pure abstractions, & as such perfect, though not dramatic——”

That is, perfectly undramatic. I need’nt quote any more—need I? And oh how convicted I feel!–

My beloved indulgent friend’s

own EBB—

What am I to say from everybody? ‘All the love they dare[’]. [9] Mine to dear Dr Mitford. Thank God he is so well. Do say to K. how sorry both Crow & I are that she wdnt come in. Of course I had not repeated your excess of kindness to Mr Horne. It was a coincident contradiction.

Publication: EBB-MRM, I, 299–301.

Manuscript: Wellesley College.

1. EBB refers to the letter announcing Miss Mitford’s safe return home after her London visit of 28–30 October.

2. As previously indicated (letters 729, note 4, 733, note 15), there had been a revival of interest in Miss Mitford’s Otto of Wittelsbach.

3. Madame Céleste (1815–82) was a celebrated French dancer and actress. After appearing before enthusiastic audiences in America, she returned to England in 1837 and acted at the Drury Lane and Haymarket theatres. She later (1844) shared with Benjamin Webster the management of the Adelphi.

4. The implication is that, after discussions with the management of the Haymarket, Miss Mitford left behind part of the manuscript of her play and had to return to retrieve it.

5. The cypress was associated with funerals, its wood having at one time been used in making coffins (cf. Shakespeare’s “in sad cypress let me be laid,” Twelfth Night, II, 4, 52). The olive symbolized peace and prosperity (as in Genesis, 8:11) and the holly, used as decoration in the Roman festival of Saturnalia and our Christmas, signified rejoicing.

6. i.e., relating to “Psyche Apocalypté”; presumably the letter to which 868 is a reply.

7. Cf. Hamlet, I, 2, 170.

8. Cf. The Merchant of Venice, IV, 1, 223ff.

9. Cf. Donne, “The Undertaking” (1633), line 19.

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