E.B.B.

_R.B. to E.B.B._

Monday Afternoon.

[Post-mark July 7, 1845.]

While I write this,--3 o'clock you may be going out, I will hope, for

the day is very fine, perhaps all the better for the wind: yet I got

up this morning sure of bad weather. I shall not try to tell you how

anxious I am for the result and to know it. You will of course feel

fatigued at first--but persevering, as you mean to do, do you

not?--persevering, the event must be happy.

I thought, and still think, to write to you about George Sand, and

the vexed question, a very Bermoothes of the 'Mental Claims of the

Sexes Relatively Considered' (so was called the, ... I do believe, ...

worst poem I ever read in my life), and Mrs. Hemans, and all and some

of the points referred to in your letter--but 'by my fay, I cannot

reason,' to-day: and, by a consequence, I feel the more--so I say how

I want news of you ... which, when they arrive, I shall read

'meritoriously'--do you think? My friend, what ought I to tell you on

that head (or the reverse rather)--of your discourse? I should like to

match you at a fancy-flight; if I could, give you nearly as pleasant

an assurance that 'there's no merit in the case,' but the hot weather

and lack of wit get the better of my good will--besides, I remember

once to have admired a certain enticing simplicity in the avowal of

the Treasurer of a Charitable Institution at a Dinner got up in its

behalf--the Funds being at lowest, Debt at highest ... in fact, this

Dinner was the last chance of the Charity, and this Treasurer's speech

the main feature in the chance--and our friend, inspired by the

emergency, went so far as to say, with a bland smile--'Do not let it

be supposed that we--_despise_ annual contributors,--we

_rather_--solicit their assistance.' All which means, do not think

that I take any 'merit' for making myself supremely happy, I rather

&c. &c.

Always rather mean to deserve it a little better--but never shall: so

it should be, for you and me--and as it was in the beginning so it is

still. You are the--But you know and why should I tease myself with

words?

Let me send this off now--and to-morrow some more, because I trust to

hear you have made the first effort and with success.

Ever yours, my dear friend,

The letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Barrett, Vol. 1 (of 2) 1845-1846 · 第 93 / 370 题