813. EBB to Hugh Stuart Boyd
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 5, 43–44.
1 Beacon Terrace.
May 10th 1841
My very dear friend,
Throughout this long silence, embracing the most afflictive time of my whole life, I hope you have known me better than to believe any grief could force me to forget you. I have thought of you on the contrary often, and wished that you might be very happy,—and regarded you as truly as if I could smile and say so to you in the light of days gone for ever. But you will understand the shrinking from writing,—when one’s heart is full—and that has been my case often and often—after the power of writing had returned to me. Lately I have been impatient with myself about you, lest you shd murmur to yourself “Ah she forgets me”—and thus I would’nt let Arabel write although she proposed it. So you must forgive her for my sake, and me … for my own sake– There is no help for me otherwise.
Arabel heard from Annie a day ago—and thus I became aware that you had lately been grieved by the loss of your old valued friend Mr Spowers. [1] Receive my sympathy, dear Mr Boyd. I fear this event will sadden Hampstead to you as a residence—or perhaps you have other friends there. Will you write to me and tell me a little about yourself—and not as to one who could ever forget you. Bright hours of my life have been spent at your side, and you know the metaphysicians say that contrast is a principle of suggestion– So that I could’nt forget them now and here.
Do you remember when you told me that I clung too much to human affections?– And therefore perhaps it was, that the Divine Hand cast me down in the place of graves [2] and struck me terribly in the very life of my heart. But I cannot write of this, even now. [3] Only I know & recognize God’s chastening in it, and my own transgression—my God & my sin .. eminent in the sweeping agony as causes & interpretations. Presently, & perhaps very soon, all will be calm & smooth in Christ Jesus. Oh dear friend! What an “anarithmon gelasma” [4] that will be, in the eternal world!
I have been much better this spring—really better, I think—and am waiting only for some fine days, to remove from my bed to the sofa, as an almost immediately previous step to a removal to London. You cannot know how the only strong earthly wish I have left, relative to myself, is set towards being once more at home—and my physician hopes that I shall be able to travel quietly & slowly in June. It may please God for you & me to meet again, after all.
Storm & Octavius besides my sisters are with me.
Will you write to me when you can conveniently,—and will you speak, (not of me, but of yourself)—& let me hear whether you listen still with charmed ears to the charming clocks?—above all, whether you are as well as usual & with good spirits? May God bless you in Christ!– I have a counterpart to your clock amusement, in a little spaniel dog which was sent to me by Miss Mitford, for company. Now you wonder at my pastime as I at yours—although Flush does’nt bark I assure you.
I have written very little poetry lately—but I love it as I always did—and shall write on if I live on.
Do try to forgive this letter for not going to you before—believing with how much earnest truth its writer remains
Your affectionate
Elizabeth B. Barrett–
Henrietta & Arabel are quite well, thank God.
Their kindest regards to you.
Address: H S Boyd Esqr / 21 Downshire Hill / Hampstead / London.
Publication: EBB-HSB, pp. 239–240.
Manuscript: Harvard University.
1. He had died in Hampstead on 11 April, aged 77. Spowers’ influence on Boyd was acknowledged in Boyd’s translation of Agamemnon (see letter 377, note 9).
2. Cf. Ezekiel, 39:11.
3. i.e., Bro’s death.
4. Æschylus, Prometheus, 90. EBB’s own translation (Prometheus Bound, 100) was “laughter innumerous.”
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