861. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 5, 143–147.
50 Wimpole Street
Wednesday [13] Oct. 1841. [1]
My beloved friend,
I upbraid myself bitterly (“Should I upbraid” [2] —surely—yes!) for having been the cause to you of such unnecessary uneasiness. It was very wrong in me: and the anxious thoughts you speak of are the only fruit which I would entreat your precious love for me not to bear. I must try not to be so guilty again.
Dearest friend, what you tell me of the reasons you have for forbidding us to think of detaining you even one night long, are too sacred to be reasoned against. I will not say a word .. but this—that as we have agreed to put off the avatar until a missing high priest of the divinity be here, [3] the little pause may admit of a great improvement in your dear invalid, & your courage may come back, & Dr Mitford himself may say “Do not return until tomorrow or next day”. Is’nt it possible, my dearest friend? I used to be a sanguine person, an Inigo Jones in the air [4] —& now I’m at my dirty work again you see!– I must hold on to a hope still. But I dont reason against your reasons—do not suspect me of wishing to do it—and if dear Mr Kenyon comes while things remain otherwise unimproved, I will either embrace gladly & gratefully the amount of joy you promise now, just as it is, or, in the case of everybody’s fearing the fatigue & excitement for you too much,—as I do myself,—beg you to put it all off until you can without anxiety join two days together. However it may be, I am angry with myself for talking of ‘a full house.’ It was wrong of me—& a mistake besides. The house is large for London—and although our family is large too, there is a room for you, a large room,—large enough for K. besides yourself, if you liked her to be there with you & if she could be accommodated on a sofa—& this without any degree of inconvenience to any of us– Think of it—keep it in your mind—dearest Miss Mitford. There is the room ready for you at any time. I only wish we could offer one to Dr Mitford—I only wish we could. But we are so many—and the long coats I find, take up more room than the jackets I left behind me! [5] Many as we are, we have one heart between us in relation to the affection & admiration due to you. No! I cant put it quite as you tell me! I cant keep it all as affectionate thankfulness for your goodness to me! I cant keep away the admiration from working besides—and I would’nt if I could. You remember, I dont share your opinion upon the “good for nothingness” par excellence (a construction scarcely odder than the opinion) of authors & authoresses. And oh—dearest Miss Mitford—if I did not fear to shock you, I could say something dreadful of you——! nothing less than that you never cease, waking or sleeping, grave or playful, in letters or conversation, to appear & be that very terrible thing whatever it is, that you are in your published works. Therefore how can I say to Papa what you tell me—that you are nothing like an authoress?– How can I? Where is my conscience? Indeed I can say no such word. Never was there a more perfect unity than that between the individual & the writer in your case. Do forgive me for thinking so—because that was one of the whys that I loved you at first sight—& that too was one of the whys that the whole world of us loved your writings long before any first or second sight of mine. They are earnest writings,—sealed to universal truth by an individual humanity.
But I must tell you of Arabel’s visit to Mr Haydon & Mr Lucas, by the grace of your goodness to her. Mr Haydon was not at home—“out of town” the servant reported him to be, admitting her however without hesitation into the fresco room– Set (Septimus) went with her, & they both turned their eyes round & round in search of the angel Uriel & could scarcely believe they had found him in the form of what they both talked of as “a sketch in the corner”. This however was of course the fresco. [6] Do you call to mind the artist’s enthusiasm about his new creature standing in the gap of the wall? Now—although Arabel is unlearned upon frescos & did not probably expect rightly, yet we may gather from her report & Set’s behind it, that nothing generally striking & obviously great has been effected in the new fresco apocalypse. I should like much to know how others of your friends under the same circumstances, have been impressed or unimpressed. Do tell me. Arabel was utterly disappointed—“That all!!” That was her feeling.
Well—afterwards they passed to Mr Lucas’s—& there, were delighted. One picture, Arabel says particularly captivated her—one of Mr Sergt Talfourd’s children. [7] Did you ever see it? Do you remember it? Then there was the lovely portrait of Lady Burlington [8] —most lovely—& which so little impressed her with the sense of sadness, that she quite started when I told her of the circumstances relating to it—“Taken after death!– Why it looks so youthful & smiling & full of life!–” How differently the light falls on different minds!– Your friend, whose letter you sent me, cd even see the parting pitying look!—and I hope she is right. [9]
Mr Lucas was very kind & pleased them in everyway—talked of Prince Albert & his talents—“If he had studied five years under Raffael, [10] his remarks could not have been acuter”—thought him very handsome, & the Queen charmless if you except the pleasant countenance & youthful freshness. There were too earnest enquiries about you & Dr Mitford & the probability of your coming to town–
Arabel said “Did you ever paint a portrait of Miss Mitford, Mr Lucas!” “Oh yes!—but it was a failure—he had destroyed it—” (prophane man!) “he had made a great mistake,—& instead of preserving her characteristic of simplicity, dressed her up in a hat & feathers. All was wrong together.”
Dearest friend, are you aware that you, as you appeared in this picture & that hat & feathers, are engraved & given to the public to pass judgment on?– Before I went to Torquay, in my yearnings to look upon you I enquired about this matter of engraving. They—Ackermann’s people I think—sent me an engraving from Mr Lucas’s picture, [11] —and I, in utter discontent, sent it back again & preferred waiting until I could get the profile likeness which at the National Gallery exhibition, appeared to me so like & characteristic. [12] This I will have. I am glad Mr Lucas repented of the hat & feathers. It was a sin, verily!——
I forgot, quite forgot, to answer a question, in my last letter. That is, I forgot to send you my last contribution to the hardhearted Athenæum—but it will come in today as an illustration of my Inigo Jones-ship, if Crow can find it. [13] Mr Dilke is kind in sending me the paper—& I respond sometimes, just to show myself alive & grateful–
I had a note from Mr Horne today, to express his remorse at having wandered to “things less worthy” than Psyche,—& “to return”. I did not “whistle him back” [14] I assure you—nor even “sign him back”—but as he sends me the modelling of the third & last, department of our drama, little remains I suppose but to set to work. I had been ‘revolving in my altered soul’ [15] all your gracious & good advice about a subject, & having been haunted for a long while before it came—oh long long ago,—by one of the interdicted (“A day from Eden”—half dramatic [16] ) was beginning to clear my mind by writing it off previously to doing something better. But this Psyche has the first claim of all you see—has’nt she? There is no room or excuse for a departure on my side—is there?– I think not!– And indeed Psyche, if we only write up to her feet, will make a noble subject—will show as a noble subject. Oh I think so– I do indeed!–
I said to Mr Horne that you as well as another less worthy person, had admired the energy under a certain tarpaulin hat– Was I wrong to say “you”? I hope I was not. It would give pleasure I knew. And thus he replies, confessing the identity. “The tarpaulin hat, having weathered every storm & vicissitude, is preserved as a trophy of a traveller who visited every place he intended, and after six or seven thousand miles, arrived at his mother’s house with one halfpenny. [17] I had a great mind to send it off straight to you (the hat—not the halfpenny, for that alas!—was obliged to go long since) but when I routed it out, the thing was too real & wd have much soiled the idea”– I have made them laugh here by saying that if he had sent it to me, I wd have hung it up by my bust of Plato!——
You are spared my “House of Clouds” today. Crow cant find the Athenæum. I will send it to you—but for today it’s too late. [18]
Give my love to dear Dr Mitford!– God bless you both.
Your ever attached
Elizabeth B Barrett–
Address: Miss Mitford / Three Mile Cross / near Reading.
Publication: EBB-MRM, I, 286–289.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. The continuing discussion of arrangements for Miss Mitford’s impending visit clearly places this letter between nos. 860 and 862.
2. A reference to the popular air, “Should He Upbraid,” from Two Gentlemen of Verona (1821) by Henry Rowley Bishop (1786–1855).
3. i.e., until Kenyon returns. In Hindu mythology, an avatar was the appearance of a deity in visible form.
4. Inigo Jones (1573–1652) designed the scenes, costumes and machinery for Jonson’s Masque of Blackness (1605) and for other stage presentations, pioneering the use in England of movable scenic devices. He was also responsible for the design of a new Banqueting Hall for Whitehall Palace, to replace the structure burned down in 1619. A further mention of Inigo Jones later in this letter indicates that EBB is referring obliquely to her poem, “The House of Clouds.”
5. A reference to the physical change in Septimus and Octavius during EBB’s absence in Torquay; they were now 19 and 17 respectively.
6. See letter 854, note 2. Miss Mitford had enclosed notes of introduction to Haydon and Lucas in letter 857.
7. This portrait, exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1835, is reproduced in John Lucas, Portrait Painter, 1828–1874, by Arthur Lucas (1910), facing p. 14.
8. This was the painting that inspired Miss Mitford’s verses (see letter 841, note 5). It is reproduced in John Lucas, facing p. 33.
9. Miss Mitford had sent this letter with no. 857.
10. Prince Albert was sitting for the first of four portraits made by Lucas; finished in 1842, it is reproduced in John Lucas, facing p. 41. Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio, 1483–1520) was one of the most famous of the High Renaissance painters, specializing in religious subjects.
11. Rudolph Ackermann (1764–1834) was born in Saxony, but settled in England after studying in Germany and France; he established a print shop and drawing school, and was instrumental in refining lithography into a fine art.
Chorley recounts how Miss Mitford “instead of wearing the simple cap, and the soft lace cape folded over the dark dress she usually wore” was persuaded by Lady Madalina Palmer “to accept the loan of a large black velvet hat, surmounted by a plume of white ostrich feathers, and a gorgeous cloak of gentianella blue, lined with white satin” and sat thus to “the secretly demurring artist … [who] fretted over the bad taste of these sumptuous and unnatural accessories, [and] at last cancelled the picture in a fit of desperation” (Chorley, I, 17–18).
12. EBB saw this portrait, made for Chorley’s The Authors of England, in 1837 (see letter 570 for her comments on it).
13. “The House of Clouds” appeared in The Athenæum of 21 August 1841 (no. 721, p. 643).
14. Cf. Goldsmith, “Retaliation” (1774), line 108.
15. Cf. Dryden, “Alexander’s Feast” (1697), line 85.
16. Published as “A Drama of Exile” in Poems (1844).
17. These references are to Horne’s travels in Canada in 1826.
18. The poem was finally sent with letter 863.
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