362. EBB to Hugh Stuart Boyd
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 2, 227–230.
Hope End.
Monday. [28 December 1829] [1]
My dear friend,
I am very much obliged to you for your epitaph. [2] Your felis is felix, [3] —and amused & pleased me really & extremely. There was, however, one thing which I expected to find & did not—I mean the introduction of your favorite euphony the me-ou. The lines which I like best, are, the first line about the “he cat a-mewing”, & the fifth about “the rat” & “mouse”. These are admirable; but indeed the whole is very cleverly & playfully put together, & could not fail at making a “Sir Gravity” smile. You told me never to read anything of yours to anybody, because I read so badly. Notwithstanding this, I did transgress on Saturday by reading your feline epitaph to Bro, because I thought it sounded better when read in our way, than Carthusianly, as he would have read it. And as I really read very slowly (for me!) & distinctly, & made every cat & rat & mouse audible (which fact was satisfactorily proved by Bro’s laughing in the right places) you need not bewail yourself nor be severe upon me. As to the “first cat,”—when is there to be a last?– You are a hard person to deal with!—but I think it is very good!–
Mrs Mushet wrote me a long letter to ask me to lend her a thousand pounds for two or three years, in order to relieve the embarassment of a friend of hers, a young man who cannot continue at College without some pecuniary assistance. [4] She enclosed letters from his late & present tutors, & sent the whole packet thr’o you, because she had mislaid my address “given to her by a late visitor at Malvern”—Miss Gibbons, [5] of course! I am sorry that, before taking so much trouble, Mrs Mushet did not inform herself better as to circumstances,—as to my being wholly dependent, & not having, very often, even a thousand pence at my own disposal. She seems to be a benevolent woman.
I have finished looking thro’ the orations on the Romans, & extremely admire a great part of what I have read, tho’ the exposition of the most difficult texts did not satisfy me. The peroration of the last oration seemed to me very eloquent animated & striking,—too much drawn out, of course,—but not wire-drawn—that is, not drawn out to hardness & thinness.
Don’t let it be known to Mrs Mushet, that I have mentioned the object of her letter.
Your sincere friend
E B Barrett.
I send you at the other side of this sheet two very juvenile productions of mine. Perhaps they may amuse you when you have nothing better to think about (or, rather, when you dont feel inclined to think about anything better),—& I trust to you, not to have them read to you until then. I did not know till very lately that I had them in my own possession. The first was written when I was seven years old,—the second when I was nine. I dont in the least understand the meaning of my verb “to whelp”– If you could have the benefit of the original orthography!!
By the side of a hill hollow,
There’s the dire abode of Sorrow.
Where lurking Mischief hides itself
In dark holes, & Murders whelp–
Theft in black robes is standing here—
Passion & Pride is reeling near—
And Man is ever known to sin,
And Virtue’s path does not begin.
_________
On putting up the clock at Hope End.
Hark! What deep tones proceed from yonder tower,
For tell-tale Echo’s voice betrays the sound!
A Clock—the minstrel of the parting hour—
While breathing zephyrs gently sport around.
New is the note amidst these varied shades;
Sweet Natures songsters startle at the tone:
Cynthia [6] appears, & Day’s gay habit fades;
But still the clock maintains its drowsy moan.
Oh: may its warning never cease to bring
A useful lesson to our listening ear—
That hoary Time is ever on the wing
To teach the value of each passing year.
For him who rear’d in Albion’s rocky clime,
Constantinople’s minarets & dome,—
May rich rewards, borne on the wings of Time,
For ever chain him to his lovely home! [7]
EBB–
Address, on integral page: Hugh Stuart Boyd Esqr / Great Malvern.
Publication: EBB-HSB, pp. 90–92.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Dated by receipt of Boyd’s epitaph on a cat, requested by EBB in the previous letter.
2. The epitaph is no longer with the letter, but a copy in EBB’s hand is in the possession of the editors (Reconstruction, D1457). It reads as follows:
On the death of a favorite Tom Cat.
Μοιρα κατεξαινεν και κατθανεν. ῾η κατα μευ ιν
Χειρ κατεθαψε· Βιον κατθετο· μοι κατεδυ·
Ουκετ᾽ εγω κατιδω; κατ᾽ εμον δομον ουκετι παισει·
Φευ κατεβη κατοχος τη Ἑκατη κατα γης
Ω καταρατ᾽ Εκατ᾽ εξαυδα Μουσ᾽ ῾η κατ᾽ αμουσον
Ασμα βοω Θωμαν μευ καταπαυσ᾽ ὁ μορος
Ουδεν ερητυσει με το μη ου κατ᾽ ατερμονα λυπην
Κλαιειν ω φυχη μη κατατεινε γοους∙
The cleverness of these lines is in the constant repetition of the syllable “κατ”, lost in translation, and in the alliteration of the Greek with the English “rat,” “mouse,” and “mew.”
“Fate wore him down and killed him. She gave him into my hand for burial. He laid down his life, to my loss. Never again will I see him; he will no longer frisk in my halls. Alas! he has descended beneath the earth, in thrall to Hecate. O accursed Hecate, the Muse cries, to whom I shout in my artless verse. Death has put an end to my little prodigy, and nothing will restrain me from lamenting him in endless grief. O my soul, do not stretch out your sorrow.”
3. “Your cat is felicitous.”
4. Agnes (née Wilson), wife of David Mushet, the metallurgist. Their daughter Harriett was a friend of Boyd (see letter 315). Letter 364 identifies the young man as George Roberts (1807–87), who later married Henrietta Mushet.
5. Eliza, eldest daughter of Sir John Gibbons, of Stanwell.
6. The moon.
7. The original manuscript of the first item is at ABL (Reconstruction, D94). The original manuscript of the second piece seems not to have survived. The transcript above is the only one in EBB’s hand, although other contemporary copies exist (see Reconstruction, D660–665).
The clock tower is still standing, but the works were removed when the family left Hope End in 1832. Edward Moulton-Barrett sent the clock to Jamaica, where it is in use today in the market-place of St. Ann’s Bay.
These two poems, unpublished in EBB’s lifetime, subsequently appeared in HUP, I, 76 and The Poet’s Enchiridion (1914), 25–27, respectively.
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