5424. RB to Julia Wedgwood
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 31, 91–92.
19 Warwick Crescent
July 25. ’64.
You make me very happy, and could not do it in any other way. You know I understand you: also that if I believe you, as it is easy to do, there is all honor implied to you by believing. I know that, besides what else you are, you are truthful and generous, with the courage proper to these. If I did not so feel, and so understand, I am good enough to be able, and easily, to return you your gifts and say they were not meant for me, as an honest streetsweeper would, on finding that you had given gold for the silver coin, that is already too unusual a largess: if I were vain, I mean, and weak & selfish only, I would not take this gold of you, when silver compliment, or even sympathy, would be enough. But, dearest friend, if—since you choose to care thus for me, I can be sure of satisfying you just where you feel uncertain of the effects of your care—I shall “last,” [1] at the lowest that one can say. I do not turn round, as I might, and tell you, it is you who will find me out, one day, and be ashamed and sorry when the illusion goes: I don’t think that: my way, too, is the “cynical,[”] rather than the sentimental– I shall tell you the truth, if I can, as I have so far told you the exact truth: my past life,—how long compared to yours!—is of use here: you know that, without needing to be better than my fellows, I am lifted by past experiences above the temptation to be false and selfish and vain in such a relation as ours—do I want you to wear like a ring round my neck-tie, as the fashion is?– I am older than to care to look fine so. There would be real matters for regret, if I tried to find the real obstacles at all likely to seriously inconvenience us. But don’t think of them now—it is my vice & plague to do exactly what a friend of mine did on Saturday while you, may be, were writing your letter. I was at his house—he disappeared mysteriously—his wife explained “That microscope you wished to see, he is preparing something.” At last, in he came, “Such a disappointment! There was only one of the insects in the aquarium,—one that I was anxious to show you– I got it at last—well under the glass—when, I thought I would give one screw more and—it was dead!”– I am apt to give “one screw more”—and squeeze to death what yields most pleasure, turning and trying and torturing: yet, with this old habit against me, I entertain no doubt or fear of the future with us two. How shall misconception come, and “anger” and the rest?
You see the disjointed way of writing– I am unused to this way of direct transfusion of souls. Understand what you can—& you will.
You know the difficulties will begin soon enough: my visits will seem importunate, be remarked on,—the usual course of things must be looked for. And then, you—yourself—now, let me speak plainly,—keep you in mind, for justice’[s] sake, exactly what my claims are,—arising from your own free gift, but understood in their largest sense,—and do not let them presume to obstruct what may, ought to be claims paramount: don’t cut, in that royal way, your palm-tree to the heart, that the poor traveller you delight to honor may have a draught of palm wine, “after which” says Xenophon, “the whole tree withers.” [2] A better than I, God knows, should have the whole palm tree in its season. There, that’s said. Meantime, grow & be happy, & let me sit under the branches to my day’s end, come what will.
“Tiresome person–” [3] Yes, and I shall bear your tiresomeness. Is this your fan’s tap which completes the grace of a lady’s gift? It does not slay me, anyhow. Forgive all that is stupid in all this, which I dare not re-read; and only mind the main truth that
I am ever yours RB.
Publication: RB-JW, pp. 44–46.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library.
1. See the fourth paragraph in letter 5423.
2. Cf. Xenophon, Anabasis, II, 3, 16.
3. See the end of letter 5423.
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