Saturday July 16th.
Clouds but no rain. Dreamt last night of all the passengers of a West India vessel,—except two rescued by Bro,—being drowned. I hope that does not indicate a drowning for me in my way to or from Malvern today. Read a little of the Alcestis before I got out of bed,—I think I shall like it.
Went to Malvern, & called at the Barton door, about Destiny; & on Mrs. Trant on my way to Mr. Boyd’s. She asked me when I meant to spend a day with her. I said I did not know, & she said — — nothing. Silence is eloquent; & silence on this occasion did not I think, speak on the courteous side of the question—of which I was glad. Found Mrs. Boyd in the drawing room; & was soon released to Mr. Boyd. Before he admitted me, I heard him say “You did not show it to her? You did not say anything about it?” About the book of course. Well! I was received into his room!— He asked me if I chose to look at the book there, or wait until I got home. “There”, my answer was. So he sent me back into the drawing room, for Mrs. Boyd to show me the sight. Bad paper!! Only six books!! Twelve books—and the most splendid paper & type. He had wished to take me by surprise; & the surprise was complete. It is the most magnificent Greek book I ever looked upon;[1] &, what is better & more valuable; has τῃ ριλτατῃ[2] written on one of the first pages, in his own hand. I shall often look on & think of that writing, when the heart that dictated it, kind & gentle as are its feelings, shall not be dwelling on the thought of my thoughts!—
I went back into Mr. Boyd’s room, & expressed, how imperfectly!— what I thought & felt of his present to me. We then read the seven chiefs,— Yes! but he first asked if we had heard from Papa, & spoke a little about Hope End. Will he be very sorry, if I go away? I am afraid of answering that question. I wish I were more sure of his regard. And I wish that he had not made me so costly a present!— How little & yet how much is necessary to please me!—
His sister & a Miss Nelly something[3] is coming to stay at Ruby Cottage. The young lady is 16; & was, when she was 6, a clever child. Her father had amused himself by teaching her the Greek character[s], & had made her read the Hecuba thro’, without of course, her understanding a word. Mr. Boyd does not think that she understands Greek. I hope that she — — I hope he wont prefer her society to mine. I hope Miss Boyd will like me. I will take pains to please Mr. Boyd’s sister.
He asked me to talk to Mr. Spowers at dinner: “on his account, he thought I ought to do it.” I promised to do my best; and as I went out of the room, he said that I must remember what I had promised, & that he wd. ask Mrs. Boyd if I had been “naughty or good”. I in a panic of course. Found Mr. Spowers solo in the drawing room. Exit I in a fuss, went to Mrs. Boyd’s room, down stairs—no Mrs. Boyd—returned perforce to Mr. Spowers. Talked to him of Mr. Boyd—my best introduction. Down to dinner. I impelled myself to talk, whether I had anything to say or not—to talk about the country, & the newspaper, & the raven, & Joanna Baillie[4] & Lord Byron. So that when I had to answer Mr. Boyd’s “naughty or good”, I could say “good”. Mr. Spowers is a sensible man; & gentlemanly & goodnatured. Before dinner, Mr. Boyd had walked out with him up & down the garden. Mr. Boyd said a good deal about leaving me—& begged me to believe that it was not his wish to do so,—that he went only on account of his health. It was certainly right for him to go. But could he not have asked me to go with him? He evidently dislikes my walking with him. What is the reason? Shall I ask? No!—
While we were at dinner Mr. Wood[5] called, to tell him that a celebrated preacher Mr. James, is to preach on Tuesday, at the anniversary of the chapel.[6] Mr. Boyd wishes me to go, & to write or speak to Eliza Cliffe about it, & to make her use her influence with Miss Wall—that every body may go.
After dinner we had a little more of the Seven Chiefs; & I heard him recite some of the Prometheus; & then we talked; and at half past 7 I went away. As I was taking leave of him, he asked me to tell Mr. Spowers to take the newspaper & read it to him. Is it possible that I shd. have forgotten this message until I got to South Lodge? Very near going back again,—but it wd. have seemed ridiculous.
Found, on arriving at home, that there was no letter; & that nobody except Bro & Sam had gone to the Cliffes, on account, not so much of the rain as the clouds. So I understand it. Made them all stare at my book—& promise to hear Mr. James preach on Tuesday. Not very well.
1. Wolf’s Homer, ed. cit. Volume I, with an inscription by E.B.B. recording the gift, formed Lot 755 of Browning Collections.
2. “For the nearest and dearest.”
3. Eleanor Page Bordman (1814–78), later (1848) Jago, daughter of the Rev. James Bordman, Curate of Ickham, Kent, and his wife, Eleanor (née Page). The friendship which sprang up between Miss Bordman and E.B.B. was to persist until the latter’s death.
4. Joanna Baillie (1762–1851), poetess and dramatist, whose house at Hampstead was the centre of a distinguished literary circle. Mr. Spowers also lived at Hampstead.
5. The Rev. John Wood, Minister of the Chapel in the Connexion of the Countess of Huntingdon, Malvern. This chapel “lately erected in the village of Great Malvern, was solemnly set apart for divine worship, on Wednesday, the 18th of July [1827]” (The Evangelical Register, August 1827, pp. 224–225).
6. Berrow’s Worcester Journal, 14 July 1831: “The fourth anniversary of the opening of the late countess of huntingdon’s chapel, malvern will be held on tuesday, the 19th inst. when two sermons will be Preached by the Rev. john angell james, of Birmingham.”
