Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  E.B.B. to R.B.

  Monday.

  [Post-mark, November 24, 1845.]

  But what unlawful things have I said about ‘kindness’? I did not mean any harm — no, indeed! And as to thinking ... as to having ever thought, that you could ‘imitate’ (can this word be ‘imitate’?) an unfelt feeling or a feeling unsupposed to be felt ... I may solemnly assure you that I never, never did so. ‘Get up’ — ’imitate’!! But it was the contrary ... all the contrary! From the beginning, now did I not believe you too much? Did I not believe you even in your contradiction of yourself ... in your yes and no on the same subject, ... and take the world to be turning round backwards and myself to have been shut up here till I grew mad, ... rather than disbelieve you either way? Well! — You know it as well as I can tell you, and I will not, any more. If I have been ‘wrong,’ it was not so ... nor indeed then ... it is not so, though it is now, perhaps.

  Therefore ... but wait! I never gave away what you ask me to give you, to a human being, except my nearest relatives and once or twice or thrice to female friends, ... never, though reproached for it; and it is just three weeks since I said last to an asker that I was ‘too great a prude for such a thing’! it was best to anticipate the accusation! — And, prude or not, I could not — I never could — something would not let me. And now ... what am I to do ... ‘for my own sake and not yours?’ Should you have it, or not? Why I suppose ... yes. I suppose that ‘for my own sense of justice and in order to show that I was wrong’ (which is wrong — you wrote a wrong word there ... ‘right,’ you meant!) ‘to show that I was right and am no longer so,’ ... I suppose you must have it, ‘Oh, You,’ ... who have your way in everything! Which does not mean ... Oh, vous, qui avez toujours raison — far from it.

  Also ... which does not mean that I shall give you what you ask for, to-morrow, — because I shall not — and one of my conditions is (with others to follow) that not a word be said to-morrow, you understand. Some day I will send it perhaps ... as you knew I should ... ah, as you knew I should ... notwithstanding that ‘getting up’ ... that ‘imitation’ ... of humility: as you knew too well I should!

  Only I will not teaze you as I might perhaps; and now that your headache has begun again — the headache again: the worse than headache! See what good my wishes do! And try to understand that if I speak of my being ‘wrong’ now in relation to you ... of my being right before, and wrong now, ... I mean wrong for your sake, and not for mine ... wrong in letting you come out into the desert here to me, you whose place is by the waters of Damascus. But I need not tell you over again — you know. May God bless you till to-morrow and past it for ever. Mr. Kenyon brought me your note yesterday to read about the ‘order in the button-hole’ — ah! — or ‘oh, you,’ may I not re-echo? It enrages me to think of Mr. Forster; publishing too as he does, at a moment, the very sweepings of Landor’s desk! Is the motive of the reticence to be looked for somewhere among the cinders? — Too bad it is. So, till to-morrow! and you shall not be ‘kind’ any more.

  Your

  E.B.B.

  But how, ‘a foolish comment’? Good and true rather! And I admired the writing21 ... worthy of the reeds of Jordan!

  R.B. to E.B.B.

  Thursday Morning.

  [Post-mark, November 27, 1845.]

  How are you? and Miss Bayley’s visit yesterday, and Mr. K.’s to-day — (He told me he should see you this morning — and I shall pass close by, having to be in town and near you, — but only the thought will reach you and be with you — ) tell me all this, dearest.

  How kind Mr. Kenyon was last night and the day before! He neither wonders nor is much vexed, I dare believe — and I write now these few words to say so — My heart is set on next Thursday, remember ... and the prize of Saturday! Oh, dearest, believe for truth’s sake, that I would most frankly own to any fault, any imperfection in the beginning of my love of you; in the pride and security of this present stage it has reached — I would gladly learn, by the full lights now, what an insufficient glimmer it grew from, ... but there never has been change, only development and increased knowledge and strengthened feeling — I was made and meant to look for you and wait for you and become yours for ever. God bless you, and make me thankful!

  And you will give me that? What shall save me from wreck: but truly? How must I feel to you!

  Yours R.B.

  E.B.B. to R.B.

  Monday Evening.

  [Post-mark, November 27, 1845.]

  Now you must not blame me — you must not. To make a promise is one thing, and to keep it, quite another: and the conclusion you see ‘as from a tower.’ Suppose I had an oath in heaven somewhere ... near to ‘coma Berenices,’ ... never to give you what you ask for! ... would not such an oath be stronger than a mere half promise such as I sent you a few hours ago? Admit that it would — and that I am not to blame for saying now ... (listen!) that I never can nor will give you this thing; — only that I will, if you please, exchange it for another thing — you understand. I too will avoid being ‘assuming’; I will not pretend to be generous, no, nor ‘kind.’ It shall be pure merchandise or nothing at all. Therefore determine! — remembering always how our ‘ars poetica,’ after Horace, recommends ‘dare et petere vicissim’ — which is making a clatter of pedantry to take advantage of the noise ... because perhaps I ought to be ashamed to say this to you, and perhaps I am! ... yet say it none the less.

  And ... less lightly ... if you have right and reason on your side, may I not have a little on mine too? And shall I not care, do you think?... Think!

  Then there is another reason for me, entirely mine. You have come to me as a dream comes, as the best dreams come ... dearest — and so there is need to me of ‘a sign’ to know the difference between dream and vision — and that is my completest reason, my own reason — you have none like it; none. A ticket to know the horn-gate from the ivory, ... ought I not to have it? Therefore send it to me before I send you anything, and if possible by that Lewisham post which was the most frequent bringer of your letters until these last few came, and which reaches me at eight in the evening when all the world is at dinner and my solitude most certain. Everything is so still then, that I have heard the footsteps of a letter of yours ten doors off ... or more, perhaps. Now beware of imagining from this which I say, that there is a strict police for my correspondence ... (it is not so — ) nor that I do not like hearing from you at any and every hour: it is so. Only I would make the smoothest and sweetest of roads for ... and you understand, and do not imagine beyond.

  Tuesday evening. — What is written is written, ... all the above: and it is forbidden to me to write a word of what I could write down here ... forbidden for good reasons. So I am silent on conditions ... those being ... first ... that you never do such things again ... no, you must not and shall not.... I will not let it be: and secondly, that you try to hear the unspoken words, and understand how your gift will remain with me while I remain ... they need not be said — just as it need not have been so beautiful, for that. The beauty drops ‘full fathom five’ into the deep thought which covers it. So I study my Machiavelli to contrive the possibility of wearing it, without being put to the question violently by all the curiosity of all my brothers; — the questions ‘how’ ... ‘what’ ... ‘why’ ... put round and edgeways. They are famous, some of them, for asking questions. I say to them — ’well: how many more questions?’ And now ... for me — have I said a word? — have I not been obedient? And by rights and in justice, there should have been a reproach ... if there could! Because, friendship or more than friendship, Pisa or no Pisa, it was unnecessary altogether from you to me ... but I have done, and you shall not be teazed.

  Wednesday. — Only ... I persist in the view of the other question. This will not do for the ‘sign,’ ... this, which, so far from being qualified for disproving a dream, is the beautiful image of a dream in itself ... so beautiful: and with the very shut eyelids, and the “little folding of the hands to sleep.” You
see at a glance it will not do. And so —

  Just as one might be interrupted while telling a fairy-tale, ... in the midst of the “and so’s” ... just so, I have been interrupted by the coming in of Miss Bayley, and here she has been sitting for nearly two hours, from twelve to two nearly, and I like her, do you know. Not only she talks well, which was only a thing to expect, but she seems to feel ... to have great sensibility — and her kindness to me ... kindness of manner and words and expression, all together ... quite touched me. — I did not think of her being so loveable a person. Yet it was kind and generous, her proposition about Italy; (did I tell you how she made it to me through Mr. Kenyon long ago — when I was a mere stranger to her?) the proposition to go there with me herself. It was quite a grave, earnest proposal of hers — which was one of the reasons why I could not even wish not to see her to-day. Because you see, it was a tremendous degree of experimental generosity, to think of going to Italy by sea with an invalid stranger, “seule à seule.” And she was wholly in earnest, wholly. Is there not good in the world after all?

  Tell me how you are, for I am not at ease about you — You were not well even yesterday, I thought. If this goes on ... but it mustn’t go on — oh, it must not. May God bless us more!

  Do not fancy, in the meantime, that you stay here ‘too long’ for any observation that can be made. In the first place there is nobody to ‘observe’ — everybody is out till seven, except the one or two who will not observe if I tell them not. My sisters are glad when you come, because it is a gladness of mine, ... they observe. I have a great deal of liberty, to have so many chains; we all have, in this house: and though the liberty has melancholy motives, it saves some daily torment, and I do not complain of it for one.

  May God bless you! Do not forget me. Say how you are. What good can I do you with all my thoughts, when you keep unwell? See! — Facts are against fancies. As when I would not have the lamp lighted yesterday because it seemed to make it later, and you proved directly that it would not make it earlier, by getting up and going away!

  Wholly and ever your

  E.B.B.

  R.B. to E.B.B.

  [Post-mark, November 28, 1845.]22

  Take it, dearest; what I am forced to think you mean — and take no more with it — for I gave all to give long ago — I am all yours — and now, mine; give me mine to be happy with!

  You will have received my note of yesterday. — I am glad you are satisfied with Miss Bayley, whom I, too, thank ... that is, sympathize with, ... (not wonder at, though) — for her intention.... Well, may it all be for best — here or at Pisa, you are my blessing and life.

  ... How all considerate you are, you that are the kind, kind one! The post arrangement I will remember — to-day, for instance, will this reach you at 8? I shall be with you then, in thought. ‘Forget you!’ — What does that mean, dearest?

  And I might have stayed longer and you let me go. What does that mean, also tell me? Why, I make up my mind to go, always, like a man, and praise myself as I get through it — as when one plunges into the cold water — only ... ah, that too is no more a merit than any other thing I do ... there is the reward, the last and best! Or is it the ‘lure’?

  I would not be ashamed of my soul if it might be shown you, — it is wholly grateful, conscious of you.

  But another time, do not let me wrong myself so! Say, ‘one minute more.’

  On Monday? — I am much better — and, having got free from an engagement for Saturday, shall stay quietly here and think the post never intending to come — for you will not let me wait longer?

  Shall I dare write down a grievance of my heart, and not offend you? Yes, trusting in the right of my love — you tell me, sweet, here in the letter, ‘I do not look so well’ — and sometimes, I ‘look better’ ... how do you know? When I first saw you — I saw your eyes — since then, you, it should appear, see mine — but I only know yours are there, and have to use that memory as if one carried dried flowers about when fairly inside the garden-enclosure. And while I resolve, and hesitate, and resolve again to complain of this — (kissing your foot ... not boldly complaining, nor rudely) — while I have this on my mind, on my heart, ever since that May morning ... can it be?

  — No, nothing can be wrong now — you will never call me ‘kind’ again, in that sense, you promise! Nor think ‘bitterly’ of my kindness, that word!

  Shall I see you on Monday?

  God bless you my dearest — I see her now — and here and now the eyes open, wide enough, and I will kiss them — how gratefully!

  Your own

  R.B.

  DECEMBER, 1845

  E.B.B. to R.B.

  Friday.

  [Post-mark, December 1, 1845.]

  It comes at eight o’clock — the post says eight ... I say nearer half past eight ... it comes — and I thank you, thank you, as I can. Do you remember the purple lock of a king on which hung the fate of a city? I do! And I need not in conscience — because this one here did not come to me by treason — ’ego et rex meus,’ on the contrary, do fairly give and take.

  I meant at first only to send you what is in the ring ... which, by the way, will not fit you I know — (not certainly in the finger which it was meant for ...) as it would not Napoleon before you — but can easily be altered to the right size.... I meant at first to send you only what was in the ring: but your fashion is best so you shall have it both ways. Now don’t say a word on Monday ... nor at all. As for the ring, recollect that I am forced to feel blindfold into the outer world, and take what is nearest ... by chance, not choice ... or it might have been better — a little better — perhaps. The best of it is that it’s the colour of your blue flowers. Now you will not say a word — I trust to you.

  It is enough that you should have said these others, I think. Now is it just of you? isn’t it hard upon me? And if the charge is true, whose fault is it, pray? I have been ashamed and vexed with myself fifty times for being so like a little girl, ... for seeming to have ‘affectations’; and all in vain: ‘it was stronger than I,’ as the French say. And for you to complain! As if Haroun Alraschid after cutting off a head, should complain of the want of an obeisance! — Well! — I smile notwithstanding. Nobody can help smiling — both for my foolishness which is great, I confess, though somewhat exaggerated in your statement — (because if it was quite as bad as you say, you know, I never should have seen you ... and I have!) and also for yours ... because you take such a very preposterously wrong way for overcoming anybody’s shyness. Do you know, I have laughed ... really laughed at your letter. No — it has not been so bad. I have seen you at every visit, as well as I could with both eyes wide open — only that by a supernatural influence they won’t stay open with you as they are used to do with other people ... so now I tell you. And for the rest I promise nothing at all — as how can I, when it is quite beyond my control — and you have not improved my capabilities ... do you think you have? Why what nonsense we have come to — we, who ought to be ‘talking Greek!’ said Mr. Kenyon.

  Yes — he came and talked of you, and told me how you had been speaking of ... me; and I have been thinking how I should have been proud of it a year ago, and how I could half scold you for it now. Ah yes — and Mr. Kenyon told me that you had spoken exaggerations — such exaggerations! — Now should there not be some scolding ... some?

  But how did you expect Mr. Kenyon to ‘wonder’ at you, or be ‘vexed’ with you? That would have been strange surely. You are and always have been a chief favourite in that quarter ... appreciated, praised, loved, I think.

  While I write, a letter from America is put into my hands, and having read it through with shame and confusion of face ... not able to help a smile though notwithstanding, ... I send it to you to show how you have made me behave! — to say nothing of my other offences to the kind people at Boston — and to a stray gentleman in Philadelphia who is to perform a pilgrimage next year, he says, ... to visit the Holy Land and your E.B.B. I was naughty en
ough to take that letter to be a circular ... for the address of various ‘Europaians.’ In any case ... just see how I have behaved! and if it has not been worse than ... not opening one’s eyes! — Judge. Really and gravely I am ashamed — I mean as to Mr. Mathews, who has been an earnest, kind friend to me — and I do mean to behave better. I say that to prevent your scolding, you know. And think of Mr. Poe, with that great Roman justice of his (if not rather American!), dedicating a book to one and abusing one in the preface of the same. He wrote a review of me in just that spirit — the two extremes of laudation and reprehension, folded in on one another. You would have thought that it had been written by a friend and foe, each stark mad with love and hate, and writing the alternate paragraphs — a most curious production indeed.

  And here I shall end. I have been waiting ... waiting for what does not come ... the ring ... sent to have the hair put in; but it won’t come (now) until too late for the post, and you must hear from me before Monday ... you ought to have heard to-day. It has not been my fault — I have waited. Oh these people — who won’t remember that it is possible to be out of patience! So I send you my letter now ... and what is in the paper now ... and the rest, you shall have after Monday. And you will not say a word ... not then ... not at all! — I trust you. And may God bless you.

  If ever you care less for me — I do not say it in distrust of you ... I trust you wholly — but you are a man, and free to care less, ... and if ever you do ... why in that case you will destroy, burn, ... do all but send back ... enough is said for you to understand.

  May God bless you. You are best to me — best ... as I see ... in the world — and so, dearest aright to

  Your

  E.B.B.

  Finished on Saturday evening. Oh — this thread of silk — And to post!! After all you must wait till Tuesday. I have no silk within reach and shall miss the post. Do forgive me.

  E.B.B. to R.B.