462. EBB to Julia Martin
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 3, 48–50.
[Sidmouth]
August 28th [1832] [1]
How can I thank you enough dearest Mrs Martin, for your letter? How kind of you to write so soon & so very kindly! The postmark & handwriting were in themselves pleasant sights to me, & the kindness yet more welcome. Believe that I am grateful to you for all your kindness—for your kindness now, & your kindness in the days which are past. Some of those past days were very happy, & some of them very sorrowful,—more sorrowful than even our last days at dear dear Hope End. Then, I well recollect, tho’ I could not then thank you as I ought, how you felt for us & with us. Do not think I can ever forget that time! or you! I had written a note to you, which the bearer of Bummy’s & Arabel’s, to Colwall omitted to take. Afterwards I thought it best to spare you any more farewells, which are upon human lips, of all words, the most natural, & of all the most painful.
They told us of our having past your carriage in Ledbury. Dear Mrs Martin,—I cannot dwell upon the pain of that first hour of our journey—but you will know what it must have been. The dread of it, for some hours before, was almost worse; but it is all over now, blessed be God. Before the first day’s journey was at end, we felt inexpressibly relieved—relieved from the restlessness & anxiety which have so long oppressed us—and now we are calmer & happier than we have been for very long. If we could only have Papa & Bro & Sette with us! About half an hour before we set off, Papa found out that he could not part with Sette who sleeps with him, & is always an amusing companion to him. Papa was however unwilling to separate him perforce from his little playfellows, & asked him whether he wished very much to go. Sette’s heart was quite full, but he answered immediately—“Oh no, Papa. I would much rather stay with you.” He is a dear affectionate little thing. He & Bro being with poor Papa, we are far more comfortable about him than we should otherwise be—and perhaps our going was his sharpest pang. I wd hope it was—as it is over!—— Do not think, dear Mrs Martin, that you or Mr Martin can ever “intrude”; you know, you use that word in your letter. I have often been afraid on account of Papa not having been for so long a time at Colwall, lest you should fancy that he did not value your society & your kindness. Do not fancy it. Painful circumstances produce,—as we have often had occasion to observe,—different effects upon different minds; and some feeling, with which I certainly have no sympathy, has made Papa shrink from society of any kind, lately. He would not even attend the religious societies in Ledbury, which he was so much pledged to support, & so interested in supporting. If you knew how much he has talked of you, & asked every particular about you, you could not fancy that his regard for you was estranged. He has an extraordinary degree of strength of mind on most points—and strong feeling when it is not allowed to run in the natural channel, will sometimes force it’s way where it is not expected. You will think it strange,—but never up to this moment, has he even alluded to the subject, before us—never, at the moment of parting with us. And yet, tho’ he had not power to say one word, he could play, at cricket with the boys on the very last evening.
We slept at the York House in Bath. Bath is a beautiful town, as a town, and the country harmonizes well with it, without being a beautiful country. As mere country, nobody would stand still to look at it, tho’ as town country, many bodies would. Somersetshire in general seems to be hideous,—and I could fancy from the walls which intersect it in every direction, that they had been turned to stone by looking at the Gorgonic scenery. The part of Devonshire, thro’ which our journey lay, is nothing very pretty, tho’ it must be allowed to be beautiful after Somersetshire. We arrived here almost in the dark, and were besieged by the crowd of disinterested tradespeople, who would attend us thro’ the town to our house, to help to unload the carriages. This was not a particularly agreable reception in spite of its cordiality; and the circumstance of there being not a human being in our house, & not even a rushlight burning, did not reassure us. People were tired of expecting us every day for three weeks.
Nearly the whole way from Honiton to this place, is a descent. Poor dear Bummy said she thought we were going into “the bowels of the earth”—but I [2] suspect, she thought we were going much deeper. Between you & me, she does not seem delighted with Sidmouth; but her spirits are a great deal better, & in time, she will I dare say, be better pleased. We like very much what we have seen of it. The town is small & not superfluously clean; but of course the respectable houses are not a part of the town. Our’s is one which the Grand Duchess Helena had,—not at all grand, but extremely comfortable, & cheerful, with a splendid sea view in front, and pleasant green hills & trees behind. The drawing room’s four windows all look to the sea, and I am never tired of looking out of them. I was doing so, with a most hypocritical book before me, when your letter arrived,—& I felt all that you said in it.
<…> [3]
I always thought that the sea was the sublimest object in nature. Mont Blanc—Niagara, must be nothing to it. There, the Almighty’s form
glasses itself in tempests— [4]
and not only in tempests, but in calm—in space, in eternal motion, in eternal regularity. How can we look at it, & consider our puny sorrows, & not say, “We are dumb—because Thou didst it”.? [5] Indeed, dear Mrs Martin, we must feel every hour, & we shall feel every year, that what He did, is well done—& not only well, but mercifully.
Mr & Mrs Herring with whom Papa is slightly acquainted have called upon us, & shown us many kind attentions. They are West India people, not over polished, but certainly very good-natured. We hear that the place is extremely full, & gay; but this is of course only an on dit to us, at present! I have been riding a donkey two or three times, & enjoy very much going to the edge of the sea. The air has made me sleep more soundly than I have done for some time; and I dare say, it will do me a great deal of good in every way.
Henrietta has had a pain in her face almost ever since her arrival; but the swelling has subsided, & now she is able to get out—not being able to do which, was very tantalizing, with such staring windows as we have. She desires her very best love to you, & we all unite in it, dear Mrs Martin. You may suppose what a southern climate this is, when I tell you that myrtles & verbena three or four feet high, & hydrangeas are in flower in the gardens—even in ours which is about a hundred & fifty yards from the sea. I have written to the end of my paper. Give our kindest regards to Mr Martin, and ever believe me,
Your affectionate & grateful EBB.
Do let us hear from you again soon. We are so selfish i.e. natural, as to be a little glad at your regrets respecting us. You & Mr Martin are, & ever have been very kind!! I earnestly hope that your new neighbours may be agreable ones to you. It will give me pleasure to hear that they are. Sometimes, even now, everything seems to me like a dream! May God bless you—both of you!–
Address, on integral page: Mrs Martin / Colwall / Ledbury / Herefordshire.
Publication: LEBB, I, 10–13 (in part, as [September 1832]).
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Postmarked 30 August 1832.
2. Underscored twice.
3. Almost one line obliterated, apparently by EBB.
4. Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto the Fourth, line 1640.
5. “I was dumb, I opened not my mouth; because thou didst it” (Psalms, 39:9).
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