And by the way, will it not be better, as co-operating with you more
effectually in your kind promise to forget the 'printer's error' in my
blotted proof, to send me back that same 'proof,' if you have not
inflicted proper and summary justice on it? When Mephistopheles last
came to see us in this world outside here, he counselled sundry of us
'never to write a letter,--and never to burn one'--do you know that?
But I never mind what I am told! Seriously, I am ashamed.... I shall
next ask a servant for my paste in the 'high fantastical' style of my
own 'Luria.'
_E.B.B. to R.B._
Sunday
[May 25, 1845].
I owe you the most humble of apologies dear Mr. Browning, for having
spent so much solemnity on so simple a matter, and I hasten to pay it;
confessing at the same time (as why should I not?) that I am quite as
much ashamed of myself as I ought to be, which is not a little. You
will find it difficult to believe me perhaps when I assure you that I
never made such a mistake (I mean of over-seriousness to indefinite
compliments), no, never in my life before--indeed my sisters have
often jested with me (in matters of which they were cognizant) on my
supernatural indifference to the superlative degree in general, as if
it meant nothing in grammar. I usually know well that 'boots' may be
called for in this world of ours, just as you called for yours; and
that to bring '_Bootes_,' were the vilest of mal-à-pro-pos-ities.
Also, I should have understood 'boots' where you wrote it, in the
letter in question; if it had not been for _the relation of two
things_ in it--and now I perfectly seem to see _how_ I mistook that
relation; ('_seem to see_'; because I have not looked into the letter
again since your last night's commentary, and will not--) inasmuch as
I have observed before in my own mind, that a good deal of what is
called obscurity in you, arises from a habit of very subtle
association; so subtle, that you are probably unconscious of it, ...
and the effect of which is to throw together on the same level and in
the same light, things of likeness and unlikeness--till the reader
grows confused as I did, and takes one for another. I may say however,
in a poor justice to myself, that I wrote what I wrote so
unfortunately, _through reverence for you_, and not at all from vanity
in my own account ... although I do feel palpably while I write these
words here and now, that I might as well leave them unwritten; for
that no man of the world who ever lived in the world (not even _you_)
could be expected to believe them, though said, sung, and sworn.
For the rest, it is scarcely an apposite moment for you to talk, even
'dramatically,' of my 'superiority' to you, ... unless you mean, which
perhaps you do mean, my superiority in _simplicity_--and, verily, to
some of the 'adorable ingenuousness,' sacred to the shade of Simpson,
I may put in a modest claim, ... 'and have my claim allowed.' 'Pray do
not mock me' I quote again from your Shakespeare to you who are a
dramatic poet; ... and I will admit anything that you like, (being
humble just now)--even that I _did not know you_. I was certainly
innocent of the knowledge of the 'ice and cold water' you introduce me
to, and am only just shaking my head, as Flush would, after a first
wholesome plunge. Well--if I do not know you, I shall learn, I
suppose, in time. I am ready to try humbly to learn--and I may
perhaps--if you are not done in Sanscrit, which is too hard for me,
... notwithstanding that I had the pleasure yesterday to hear, from
America, of my profound skill in 'various languages less known than
Hebrew'!--a liberal paraphrase on Mr. Horne's large fancies on the
like subject, and a satisfactory reputation in itself--as long as it
is not necessary to deserve it. So I here enclose to you your letter
back again, as you wisely desire; although you never could doubt, I
hope, for a moment, of its safety with me in the completest of senses:
and then, from the heights of my superior ... stultity, and other
qualities of the like order, ... I venture to advise you ... however
(to speak of the letter critically, and as the dramatic composition it
is) it is to be admitted to be very beautiful, and well worthy of the
rest of its kin in the portfolio, ... 'Lays of the Poets,' or
otherwise, ... I venture to advise you to burn it at once. And then,
my dear friend, I ask you (having some claim) to burn at the same time
the letter I was fortunate enough to write to you on Friday, and this
present one--don't send them back to me; I hate to have letters sent
back--but burn them for me and never mind Mephistopheles. After which
friendly turn, you will do me the one last kindness of forgetting all
this exquisite nonsense, and of refraining from mentioning it, by
breath or pen, _to me or another_. Now I trust you so far:--you will
put it with the date of the battle of Waterloo--and I, with every date
in chronology; seeing that I can remember none of them. And we will
shuffle the cards and take patience, and begin the game again, if you
please--and I shall bear in mind that you are a dramatic poet, which
is not the same thing, by any means, with _us_ of the primitive
simplicities, who don't tread on cothurns nor shift the mask in the
scene. And I will reverence you both as 'a poet' and as '_the_ poet';
because it is no false 'ambition,' but a right you have--and one which
those who live longest, will see justified to the uttermost.... In the
meantime I need not ask Mr. Kenyon if you have any sense, because I
have no doubt that you have quite sense enough--and even if I had a
doubt, I shall prefer judging for myself without interposition; which
I can do, you know, as long as you like to come and see me. And you
can come this week if you do like it--because our relations don't come
till the end of it, it appears--not that I made a pretence 'out of
kindness'--pray don't judge me so outrageously--but if you like to
come ... not on Tuesday ... but on Wednesday at three o'clock, I shall
be very glad to see you; and I, for one, shall have forgotten
everything by that time; being quick at forgetting my own faults
usually. If Wednesday does not suit you, I am not sure that I _can_
see you this week--but it depends on circumstances. Only don't think
yourself _obliged_ to come on Wednesday. You know I _began_ by
entreating you to be open and sincere with me--and no more--I
_require_ no 'sleekening of every word.' I love the truth and can bear
it--whether in word or deed--and those who have known me longest would
tell you so fullest. Well!--May God bless you. We shall know each
other some day perhaps--and I am
Always and faithfully your friend,