773. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 4, 297–299.
[Torquay]
Monday– [November 1840] [1]
My beloved friend,
You have not thought me ill or—worse still—unkind, for not writing?– I feel bound more than I ever remember having felt, in chains, heavy & cold enough to be iron—& which have indeed entered into the soul. [2] But I do love you still—& am rather better than worse—likely, I do suppose to live on. In the meantime, thank you thank you for your letter, & both of you dear Dr Mitford, & my beloved friend, for your affectionate sympathy. Months roll over months. I know it is for good—but very hard to bear. And now—at least a week ago—my kind physician, after having held out hope from time to time, for the sake I do suspect now of drawing me onward, brought me his ultimatum—that he cannot sanction my attempting to leave this dreadful place before the spring– He told me he had wished & prayed it might be otherwise, but he was convinced now that in the case of my removing even to another house here much less to London, the consequences wd be fatal.
After all, I suffer so in staying that I wd dare it & go– But my saying this is quite vain, with Papa & my sisters looking on– They wont hear of it. So I stay– They are well I thank God.
You wont miss me dearest Miss Mitford in the Tableaux– I know & knew you wdnt—except in your illogical affectionateness. Then Mr Horne does not contribute? Mind you dont think of sending me a copy– I shall try to see it—& such a largesse wd be quite out of place considering the circumstances.
May God bless you always– My sisters[’] love to you—& mine to Dr Mitford. Can you read? [3]
Your unchangingly affectionate
EBB–
Notwithstanding this trembling hand, I am better & stronger—& more tranquil as to my thoughts. I suffered from what was called congestion of the heart—& was in so singular & frightful a state of weakness as not to be able to sleep for five minutes together without fainting. For weeks they watched me in their kindness night after night—only ascertaining the transition by a sigh, or the sudden coldness of cheek & forehead. And now I can sleep for an hour or more at a time—& the faintings are almost quite gone. Dearest Miss Mitford—I do truly love you. Love me a little. You understand so well—& will—besides—that I want them all to go & leave me here with my maid for the winter. I shd be far easier & happier if they wd—far easier. But I fear they wont go,—dear things!–
So far I had written—& now I hear thro’ Mr Kenyon that dear Dr Mitford has not been well & that you are in distress. Oh do do, write—if you can—when you can– I must not lay a straw’s further weight on you my beloved friend. May God bless you both–
Your ever attached
EBB.
Mr Kenyon talks of remaining here a fortnight longer,—& of buying, moreover, a house to live in occasionally—not to the exclusion of his London one. Papa does not believe <the r>umour. [4]
Address: Miss Mitford / Three Mile Cross / near Reading.
Publication: EBB-MRM, I, 202–204.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Dated by Kenyon’s being in Torquay. He had arrived at the end of October (SD1137).
2. Cf. The Book of Common Prayer, Psalm 105:18.
3. EBB’s handwriting still reflected her distress over Bro’s death.
4. i.e., that Kenyon’s house-hunting foreshadowed his marriage: “It is all stuff about Kenyon’s marriage” (SD1133).
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