457. EBB to Hugh Stuart Boyd
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 3, 37–40.
Hope End.
Wednesday. [25 July 1832] [1]
My dearest friend,
If you mean to describe me by the lady of sound understanding, I am afraid you pay me an unmerited compliment. At least I have been told so often, & by those who know me best, that I am a mere child in many things, that I cannot help believing it.
I am glad you have written. I wished to have one more letter from you while I was at Hope End,—and on this account I tore into pieces a letter which I wrote to you last week, & which might have made the probability of my receiving an answer from you, too uncertain for you to trust to it. Besides I could then tell you nothing certain of Papa’s plans. He heard at last from London that the sale of Hope End was finally arranged,—& immediately, as I knew he would, he left us to take a house. He went last Wednesday into Devonshire, & returned yesterday. He went to all the places which were at all likely to suit him, along the Devonshire coast, & has fixed upon Sidmouth. You cannot be more surprised than I was, at his going into Devonshire: Until he was gone I did not know where he was going. He went away quite suddenly—I did not know that he intended to go anywhere, five minutes before he went,—& his only words to me were, “God bless you my love—I shall be with you again early in the week.” He smiled as he said it,—but his voice trembled—& I well knew to what end he was leaving us.
Devonshire is very cheap,—and besides as I have a disagreeable cough when I attempt to walk or talk, he fancies that the warmth of the climate may do me good. The situation of Sidmouth is dry as well as warm,—myrtles geraniums & hydrangeas grow quite down to the shore—& the country is extremely beautiful, intersected by the most romantic walks, & wooded as picturesquely as if the sea were a thousand miles away. This is Papa’s account,—& I hope he may continue to like what he now admires,—for if he pleases himself he will please me.
Dr Adam Clarke says, that the word baptizo certainly signifies both to immerse & sprinkle, but he gives no authorities of any kind. Your question about “baptizing beds” puzzled me a little at first,—but afterwards I recollected, or thought I recollected, what you were dreaming of. There is no passage of the sort in Scripture. In Chrysostom’s commentary on the text respecting baptizing for the dead (vide the epistle to the Corinthians) there is an allusion to some absurd custom of an ancient sect, in which beds & baptism are mentioned together. [2] Were you not dreaming of this? Your volumes of Chrysostom are packed up with some of my books, and I cannot get at them, to look at the passage. Indeed I do not remember at this moment, whether the orations on Corinthians are contained in either of those volumes; neither do I remember the passage distinctly enough, to write about it, without looking at it. Dr Clarke’s observations on the subject of baptism appear to me, one of the very weakest points of his commentary. He seems to consider that both modes of baptizing are lawful,—but that immersion was the common mode among the Jews.
I wish you had said something about Mr Mushet; [3] for since hearing from Mrs Boyd, I have felt rather uncomfortable about him & you. How could you do such a foolish thing?—and when I had just wasted so much paper in entreating you to keep the peace? Did not you tell me once that it was the easiest thing in the world to persuade you to do anything? To do anything you like—I suppose you meant. Of the very few persons whom I have known, you seem to me one of the most unpersuadable—but I am far from blaming you on that account. If it is a fault at all, it is a fault on the right side. Yet do not suppose that I consider you on the right side, in making your confidence to Mr Marsh.
If I said anything in my last letter which sounded disagreeable in your ears, I hope you will forgive my having done so. That letter was written a week before it was sent to you, & I have no very distinct recollection of what it contained. As far as I do recollect, I am sure I did not intend to annoy you by any intimation however remote, that I considered you as wanting in regard towards me. When I described your regard for Miss H M as being “great”, I spoke merely of what it had been, years ago. I did not intend to oppose it invidiously to the degree of regard which I may flatter myself, you entertain for me,—but merely to observe that what you had found possible to withdraw from her, you might find possible à fortiori to withdraw from me. This observation was intended as an argument, not as a reproach. But you know, there is not any use in that kind of argument, with unpersuadeable people.
I have been interrupted in my letter,—& now I cannot send it today, as I intended. Your letter I received yesterday, and as it desired me to write soon, & you may be anxious to hear about the baptism, I wished you to have my answer by return of post. Since I left off writing, I have heard that we shall probably leave this dear place, next week—& perhaps early in the week. The house at Sidmouth is taken for only a month, because altho’ it is the largest vacant house there, it is rather too small for us; & by the expiration of the month, other larger ones may become vacant. I have not yet steeled my heart to think of the hour of going away—but I believe that He who has given the sorrow, will give also the strength. I have found it so, in bitterer sorrows than this,—& I cannot doubt that in this sorrow, I shall find it so. Henrietta Arabel & I have been perfectly prepared, by all that we have heard, for many weeks,—and we shall go thro’ the painful days which we have to suffer here where we have enjoyed so many happy ones, as calmly & patiently as we can. There is one thing—perhaps a foolish thing—but I cannot bear to think of it. I cannot bear to think that the rooms & walls in which we have not been for so long, [4] because they have become to us, too painfully dear,—will be inhabited & trodden & laughed in, by strangers. But I suppose this is foolish—at any rate it is very foolish to teaze you with a dull letter. I shall take a great deal of care of your books. But perhaps you might like to have them returned to you—you might not like me to take them down into Devonshire. Shall I send them to you? In that case you must write by return of post. I am not certain that we shall be here after Monday,—but as it is possible that we may, do not write to me at Sidmouth, do not write to me anywhere,—unless you write by return of post,—until you hear again from me. Papa went thro’ Bristol in going to Sidmouth, and we must go as near you as he did. I wish it were possible to see you on the road; but I suppose it is not. I shall take with me some of my books of course: the rest will be packed with Papa’s library, & left with the furniture, in warehouses in Ledbury. The plate will be sent to London, to the Bank.
Henrietta has been to visit all the cottages on Wellington Heath, on Bible business, & hoping that they knew nothing of ours. The news of our going away, had however reached them by some means—and in every cottage, there were such scenes! The women bursting into tears the moment they saw Henrietta, & calling down blessings upon Papa’s head wherever he went, in the most affecting manner—& some of the poorest, entreating Henrietta to write to them. I told you how much beloved he was, but I did not know then, how much—& they are as fond of Henrietta as her attention to them deserves. [5] One woman who had been blessing “every hair of Master’s head, & all his children from the biggest to the least,” fell down in such an agony of grief, that they thought she was in a fit. I almost wonder how Henrietta & Arabel could get through these painful visits:—but I suppose they were necessary things. You seem to be fated to receive dull letters from me. I meant to write only a few lines, but in a letter to you I always have so much to say, & even when the sayings are melancholy, a certain pleasure in saying them. My aunt has kindly promised to go with us, & remain with us a little time. Do not think of writing to Papa about my seeing you on the road. It would not do. Forgive the vanity of my suspecting you of thinking of it. It came into my head at that moment. Why did you not mention Annie? My best love to her & Mrs Boyd. God bless you.
Your affectionate friend
E B Barrett.
My aunt suggested our going to clifton! to Papa; but he thought it would be too cold in the winter.
Address, on integral page: H S Boyd Esqr / Bath Hampton / Bath.
Publication: EBB-HSB, 187–190 (in part).
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Dated by the sale of Hope End and the family’s preparations for departure.
2. The Homilies of St. John Chrysostom on the Epistles of Paul to the Corinthians; Homily XL on I Cor. 15:29.
3. David Mushet (1772–1847), the renowned metallurgist and inventor, the father of Henrietta Mushet.
4. Presumably EBB is referring to her mother’s rooms, which were not used after she died.
5. Sarah Drew, of Wellington Heath, wrote to Henrietta on 28 July, sending her a doll in gratitude for her “kindness to my Little Boy” and invoking God’s blessing upon her “and all your kind family” (SD751).
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