1207. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 7, 61–64.
[London]
April 8. 1843.
My beloved friend your letter was most welcome & satisfactory in many ways to me. You are perfectly safe with me, be certain: but if I were competent to giving advice, I shd still call you safer with others, the more generally open as to the marriage you became with them. You will however remember, without me, that nobody (.. say Mr Kenyon .. say Mr Harness .. say anyone else in the world ..) can have anything to say or fancy about your maid having married [1] —whereas of a mystery & a baby there is much to be said both by the romanticists & the classicists. I am sorry there was ever a ‘hush’ in the case—but the more there was one, the louder I wd be now, if I were you my dearest friend. Just at this moment people’s eyes are, as you appear aware, fixed upon you in a particularly particular manner; & those who are most capable of appreciating an act of generous kindness such as you have worthily performed, might take to murmuring about the why & the wherefore of the baby under the hood. And then in the country, where talking about everything everlastingly is a sort of rural necessity, can you calculate the exact amount of Babyana which has been buzzing about all these months?– You know best of course—& will act wisest. But if I were you, I wd not limit my publicity to those who “have a right to know anything of the matter”, .. I wd take in those who have no right, .. as being the gossiping majority .. and I would tell & write the whole story to every point of the compass .. wherever at least the breath of the gossip cd in any shape & by any possibility have penetrated–
You see (by parenthesis) how I have fallen back again into my old malady of writing one word for another—“of perforated” .. for “have penetrated”! [2] .. & without the excuse you suggest for my spelling ill, namely “a bad pen”! There, again! ‘Bed’ for ‘pen’!– It’s a sort of paralytic affection of the orthographic organ—yes! That must be it,—the words are long enough to be ‘highly satisfactory,’ as a solution of the phenomenon–
You cause me to rejoice at the roots of my heart, over your resolution to remain in your old house, … & not sell your books & furniture. Sell your books!!—it wd be desecration—suicide—& scarcely expediency, on the other hand. Old books sell for nothing—& old furniture may accept the same valuation!– But for you to sell your books!! who could advise such an act except a mere barbarian?– To me who have strong vellum-&-parchment-affections, & who love my books individually & in detail, as if a personality & a ‘spirit’ were really “in the leaves”, [3] .. the selling of one’s books comes next to the slave trade & the selling of one’s species– I recoil at the thought of it .. the thought is barbarous & unclean! Oh may you never never come to such a necessity as the selling of your books!– They will live with you all the days of your life, [4] I hope & trust, as true though silent friends, & secure the noblest company to your solitude. Three or four thousand volumes—so much the better!– I am delighted you have so many. What an amusement it will be to you my dearest Miss Mitford when you return from the vision of hills in Devonshire & of Ps in Bath, [5] to arrange these books in your sitting rooms, & bedroom perhaps—for you can scarcely have one room large enough to hold them without those double & triple rows you told me of once & which you must find inconvenient. And when I am so much “better” as to require Dr Chambers & he desires me to go to see you in a Latin prescription, why then you will let me tumble them about with you & blacken my fingers delightfully with their venerable dust, .. will you not, my dearest Miss Mitford?– Ah, that time, that time!– Is it to be in time—or only in fancy?– If only in fancy, it is kind in your fancy to wish me to be with you more really; & I thank you as earnestly & affectionately as if I were going to you tomorrow.
And now to come back to the earth!–
No, no, no!– I disagree with you—I disagree with Mr Blandy: & I say so the more bravely because I am aware of a strong party on my side of the question .. & if I say so impertinently besides, you shant be vexed with me for being impertinent because you need’nt mind a word I say more than if I did’nt say it—because after my longest paragraph you may treat me as if it had been long silence instead. Well then!– As to the matter of the sinking money in annuities in the case of persons who have relations or friends depending on them, I agree absolutely with you that the deed is a selfish deed. But in your particular case, I disagree positively with the application of the word ‘selfish’ .. & think on the contrary & with a full consideration of the circumstances, that it wd. be your best discretion & chief wisdom to sink your money in an annuity & to provide certain comfort to yourself while you live. Now listen to me, my dearest friend– You will do me the justice of believing that I would not willingly see you take the ungenerous side,—& that I would not stand with any paltry expediency between you & any person to whom you intend a posthumous kindness—& this conceded, do listen to me. I understand that for every thousand you sink in the annuities, you wd receive a hundred pounds a year—ten per cent without risk or drawback. By sinking your two thousand pounds, you secure two hundred a year—which with the pension & the encrease to the pension & the degree of literary occupation contemplated by you, would render you very comfortable in a pecuniary point of view. Now where, either in reasoning or feeling, can there be any objection to your taking this course?– The odd hundreds you might if you pleased, lay aside for legacy uses—or if you wished to give more, it wd be as easy for you to save from your annual income as to reject a sure part of your annual income by rejecting the annuity-course. I submit this consideration to you, my dearest friend, with regard to the money previously in your hands as well as the subscription-money—but with regard to the latter I will moreover venture to observe to you that you will probably disappoint nearly everybody concerned in the pleasure of giving it if you resolve on using only the interest of it & putting away the sum itself for your heirs. Here is Mr Kenyon for one—& he can tell you of many, .. whose chief object in the matter has been the purchase of an annuity for you. Will you insist upon being generous at the expense of their pleasure?—— Nay,—will you (& this is another view of the question) risk the loss of the money, by the acceptance of a private security, which persons wiser than I, .. call a risk? Mr Blandy may be trustworthy in every way without an exception—& I have a sincere respect for him on account of the interest he has taken in ‘the cause’—but ‘the wise’ warn all the less wise against private securities, & if you trust to them … look to it .. for voices louder than mine will grumble heavily–
Forgive me for my much speaking—& forget whatever you cant forgive– The post goes–
Ever your EBB–
How long was K away, when she came to London to be married? Will you answer that question?
Publication: EBB-MRM, II, 201–203.
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum.
2. At the end of the previous paragraph, EBB has crossed through “of perforated” and written “have” above it, followed by “penetrated.”
4. Cf. Psalms, 23:6.
5. Miss Pickering, whom Miss Mitford hoped to meet during her forthcoming trip—“waiting with expanded arms to embrace you” (letter 1198).
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