_E.B.B. to R.B._
Wednesday Morning,
[Post-mark, August 27, 1845.]
But your 'Saul' is unobjectionable as far as I can see, my dear
friend. He was tormented by an evil spirit--but how, we are not told
... and the consolation is not obliged to be definite, ... is it? A
singer was sent for as a singer--and all that you are called upon to
be true to, are the general characteristics of David the chosen,
standing between his sheep and his dawning hereafter, between
innocence and holiness, and with what you speak of as the 'gracious
gold locks' besides the chrism of the prophet, on his own head--and
surely you have been happy in the tone and spirit of these lyrics ...
broken as you have left them. Where is the wrong in all this? For the
right and beauty, they are more obvious--and I cannot tell you how the
poem holds me and will not let me go until it blesses me ... and so,
where are the 'sixty lines' thrown away? I do beseech you ... you who
forget nothing, ... to remember them directly, and to go on with the
rest ... _as_ directly (be it understood) as is not injurious to your
health. The whole conception of the poem, I like ... and the execution
is exquisite up to this point--and the sight of Saul in the tent, just
struck out of the dark by that sunbeam, 'a thing to see,' ... not to
say that afterwards when he is visibly 'caught in his fangs' like the
king serpent, ... the sight is grander still. How could you doubt
about this poem....
At the moment of writing which, I receive your note. Do _you_ receive
my assurances from the deepest of my heart that I never did otherwise
than _'believe' you_ ... never did nor shall do ... and that you
completely misinterpreted my words if you drew another meaning from
them. Believe _me_ in this--will you? I could not believe _you_ any
more for anything you could say, now or hereafter--and so do not
avenge yourself on my unwary sentences by remembering them against me
for evil. I did not mean to vex you ... still less to suspect
you--indeed I did not! and moreover it was quite your fault that I did
not blot it out after it was written, whatever the meaning was. So you
forgive me (altogether) for your own sins: you must:--
For my part, though I have been sorry since to have written you such a
gloomy letter, the sorrow unmakes itself in hearing you speak so
kindly. Your sympathy is precious to me, I may say. May God bless you.
Write and tell me among the 'indifferent things' something not
indifferent, how you are yourself, I mean ... for I fear you are not
well and thought you were not looking so yesterday.
Dearest friend, I remain yours,