1132. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 6, 298–301.
[London]
Jan. 20. 1843.
Of course, my beloved friend! My words are at an end—and I thank you for not casting them behind your back in any open anger at my impertinence in offering them. I am mistaken, the fact is, as to one point especially—having deduced from your expressions that the writing of the letters was forced upon you by the indolence of a person concerned in the practical arrangement. Had I understood that you had reasons which you considered sufficient for voluntarily doing this thing yourself,—be sure that it never wd have occurred to my impertinence to find fault with you for meaning to do it—no, never! Forgive me, my dearest friend, for what vexes me a little with myself. “Delicacy & dignity” often indeed are “vain words” [1] —& if I used them in any sense reflective upon any possible intentions of yours, I stand self condemned without further writing– And as to the evils of poverty, .. do not think me hard-hearted because I am sad-hearted through other evils. May God forbid that the evils of poverty shd press upon you my dearest dearest friend—if I fancied that I did not recognize them for evils, I shd yield the recognition as they approached or seemed to approach you—& be very sure that I do yield it—& that I am thankful & rejoicing,—& have been from the first,—over this prospect of an arrangement both honorable & advantageous to you. Certainly I desired—& perhaps I do still desire—that the thing might be accomplished with an apparent as well as actual spontaneity on the part of your friends—so as to spare you every sort of unpleasantness! to put you, in your right place you know, on a pedestal, with the gift at your feet. Well—but I am not to judge—& you will forgive my ignorance, or slow-wittedness, for the sake of the love underneath which made “motions” through them. It is enough that I shd be punished by being wrong.
I congratulate you on your new acquaintance with your Miss Austen’s relatives—& on the prospect (oh I see it plainly, for all your distrustings!) of holding the precious MSS in your two hands. [2] And that reminds me that you certainly do, as you appear conscious, care a little wee bit for literary power or fame; or the dear right hand wdnt care to be cut off for the particular purpose you wot of. [3] I am glad it is “proven”. I am glad poor Pen & Ink take their revenge. For my own part I wd let you cut off, .. before you began your proper amputation, .. cut off with your own penknife, .. both my hands & both my feet,—to “fyghte (write) upon my stumps” [4] not like Miss Austen, not like any good or great writer in the ’varsel world, [5] but up to my own ideal, like Wytherington, heroically greatly worthily & to endure. Oh I confess it! Virtue or vice, I confess it frankly– Such is the secret yearning & travail of my innermost soul, [6] & so little has aspiration been crushed by sorrow & ill health– To fighte upon my stumps, remains to me in a certain sense, & I do it. But that I am ready to do it literally, without a metaphor on that day when a noble Star shall promise me the victory upon those harder terms,—“I telle you in sartaine”!– [7]
So I am delighted to be witness to the protested forfeiture of your right hand—altho’ in that case— …! Ah well! you know my thoughts of Miss Austen—& of yourself beside! Tell me if the MSS are sent to you & whether your remonstrance in favor of publication has changed the resolution against it [8] —which unless founded upon some just perception of the inadequacy of the new works to the established reputation, appears to me both unnatural & inexcusable. Yes, I was aware of Miss Austen’s reluctance to be mixed up with “writing people”—& Mrs Radcliffe had or appeared to have a like feeling—& so has my own dear friend Miss Mitford! Well!– Or … ill!! which is the word?
Either way the heart beats & the blood runs under your Carrara! [9] You wdnt lose your right hand for a muffin—nor for a moon-gazing––still less for the pleasure of a pain. You wdnt lose your right hand, nor peradventure your left, for an object indifferent to you, still less unpleasing to you– Well!
The ‘Poet’s child’ [10] is to me of very little worth, except by that smile of kindness with which you have consecrated it. But you startle me by praising it so. If I “never wrote anything better,” the inference does displeasure to my vanity—nevertheless I need not sigh over it just now, any more than I needed be delicate with Mr Whittaker & fearful of drawing him in to a bad bargain by your too great kindness of introductory phrase. Read what he has written to me!– To me .. that there might be no possible ground for hesitation as to his resolution .. I could not help smiling while I read it, & looked back upon my conscientious misgivings. And now I have only to thank you my dear dear friend for your goodness to me, & turn over the page. Altogether I am in cold water, you see, about a separate poetical publication at present .. not about poetry be sure—but about the publication at this season; I am in cold water up to my neck,—& hydropathy scarcely agrees with me.
The books go to you today or tomorrow at farthest—today, I think!
Have you read Borrow’s ‘Bible in Spain’[?] [11] If not, I beg you to do so. The vividness & character are excellent. It is a book in alto relief—& original in more senses than one–
Love me—do go on to love me,—my beloved friend,—though I shd be twice as impertinent & three times as stupid, & once again as interfering!
For I am always as
affectionately &
earnestly your EBB–
You do not mention your health– How is it? how is the sleeping?– May God bless you ever!
I receive your letter—& withdraw my Whittaker MS. since it is a facsimile of yours– Thank you my beloved friend, thank you!——but the stars, you see, are awry just now–
Publication: EBB-MRM, II, 166–169.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Exodus, 5:9. See the first paragraph of letter 1129.
2. Jane Austen wrote Lady Susan in 1793–94; commenced The Watsons in 1804, but abandoned it, probably in 1805 on the death of her father; and Sanditon, begun in 1817, was unfinished at the time of her own death. It is presumably the manuscripts of some or all of these unpublished works that Miss Mitford has been promised sight of.
3. In letter 1076 EBB referred to Miss Mitford’s having said she would sacrifice one of her hands to have written one page like Miss Austen.
4. “The More Modern Ballad of Chevy Chace,” in Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, tells of Roger Withrington: “For when his leggs were smitten off, / He fought upon his stumpes” (lines 211–212).
5. Cf. Romeo and Juliet, II, 4, 206.
6. Cf. Isaiah, 53:11.
7. Cf. Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, line 1918 (“The Tale of Sir Thopas”).
8. Miss Mitford’s urgings were unavailing; the first two works mentioned in note 2 above were not published until 1871 as an appendix to the second edition of James Edward Austen-Leigh’s memoir of his aunt. Sanditon first appeared in print in 1925 as Fragment of a Novel Written by Jane Austen, January–March 1817.
9. Carrara, in Tuscany, is noted for its fine white marble.
10. “To a Poet’s Child” was one of the lesser poems included in Prometheus Bound (1833).
11. George Borrow (1803–81) was an author and philologist. His Targum (1835) contained translations from thirty languages and dialects. He won renown with The Bible in Spain; or, The Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonment of an Englishman, in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the Peninsula (1843).
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