Of course, Landor's praise is altogether a different gift; a gold vase
from King Hiram; beside he has plenty of conscious rejoicing in his
own riches, and is not left painfully poor by what he sends away.
_That_ is the unpleasant point with some others--they spread you a
board and want to gird up their loins and wait on you there. Landor
says 'come up higher and let us sit and eat together.' Is it not that?
Now--you are not to turn on me because the first is my proper feeling
to _you_, ... for poetry is not the thing given or taken between
us--it is heart and life and _my_self, not _mine_, I give--give? That
you glorify and change and, in returning then, give _me_!
_E.B.B. to R.B._
Thursday.
[Post-mark, November 21, 1845.]
Thank you! and will you, if your sister made the copy of Landor's
verses for _me_ as well as for you, thank _her_ from me for another
kindness, ... not the second nor the third? For my own part, be sure
that if I did not fall on the right subtle interpretation about the
letters, at least I did not 'think it vain' of you! vain: when,
supposing you really to have been over-gratified by such letters, it
could have proved only an excess of humility!--But ... besides the
subtlety,--you meant to be kind to _me_, you know,--and I had a
pleasure and an interest in reading them--only that ... mind. Sir John
Hanmer's, I was half angry with! Now _is_ he not cold?--and is it not
easy to see _why_ he is forced to write his own scenes five times over
and over? He might have mentioned the 'Duchess' I think; and he a
poet! Mr. Chorley speaks some things very well--but what does he mean
about 'execution,' _en revanche_? but I liked his letter and his
candour in the last page of it. Will Mr. Warburton review you? does he
mean _that_? Now do let me see any other letters you receive. _May_ I?
Of course Landor's 'dwells apart' from all: and besides the reason you
give for being gratified by it, it is well that one prophet should
open his mouth and prophesy and give his witness to the inspiration of
another. See what he says in the letter.... '_You may stand quite
alone if you will--and I think you will.' That_ is a noble testimony
to a _truth_. And he discriminates--he understands and discerns--they
are not words thrown out into the air. The 'profusion of imagery
covering the depth of thought' is a true description. And, in the
verses, he lays his finger just on your characteristics--just on those
which, when you were only a poet to me, (only a poet: does it sound
irreverent? almost, I think!) which, when you were only a poet to me,
I used to study, characteristic by characteristic, and turn myself
round and round in despair of being ever able to approach, taking them
to be so essentially and intensely masculine that like effects were
unattainable, even in a lower degree, by any female hand. Did I not
tell you so once before? or oftener than once? And must not these
verses of Landor's be printed somewhere--in the _Examiner_? and again
in the _Athenæum_? if in the _Examiner_, certainly again in the
_Athenæum_--it would be a matter of course. Oh those verses: how they
have pleased me! It was an act worthy of him--and of _you_.
George has been properly 'indoctrinated,' and, we must hope, will do
credit to my instructions. Just now ... just as I was writing ... he
came in to say good-morning and good-night (he goes to chambers
earlier than I receive visitors generally), and to ask with a smile,
if I had 'a message for my friend' ... _that_ was you ... and so he
was indoctrinated. He is good and true, honest and kind, but a little
over-grave and reasonable, as I and my sisters complain continually.
The great Law lime-kiln dries human souls all to one colour--and he is
an industrious reader among law books and knows a good deal about
them, I have heard from persons who can judge; but with a sacrifice of
impulsiveness and liberty of spirit, which _I_ should regret for him
if he sate on the Woolsack even. Oh--that law! how I do detest it! I
hate it and think ill of it--I tell George so sometimes--and he is
good-natured and only thinks to himself (a little audibly now and
then) that I am a woman and talking nonsense. But the morals of it,
and the philosophy of it! And the manners of it! in which the whole
host of barristers looks down on the attorneys and the rest of the
world!--how long are these things to last!
Theodosia Garrow, I have seen face to face once or twice. She is very
clever--very accomplished--with talents and tastes of various kinds--a
musician and linguist, in most modern languages I believe--and a
writer of fluent graceful melodious verses, ... you cannot say any
more. At least _I_ cannot--and though I have not seen this last poem
in the 'Book of Beauty,' I have no more trust ready for it than for
its predecessors, of which Mr. Landor said as much. It is the personal
feeling which speaks in him, I fancy--simply the personal
feeling--and, _that_ being the case, it does not spoil the
discriminating appreciation on the other page of this letter. I might
have the modesty to admit besides that I may be wrong and he, right,
all through. But ... 'more intense than Sappho'!--more intense than
intensity itself!--to think of _that_!--Also the word 'poetry' has a
clear meaning to me, and all the fluency and facility and quick
ear-catching of a tune which one can find in the world, do not answer
to it--no.
How is the head? will you tell me? I have written all this without a
word of it, and yet ever since yesterday I have been uneasy, ... I
cannot help it. You see you are not better but worse. 'Since you were
in Italy'--Then is it England that disagrees with you? and is it
change away from England that you want? ... _require_, I mean. If
so--why what follows and ought to follow? You must not be ill
indeed--_that_ is the first necessity. Tell me how you are, exactly
how you are; and remember to walk, and not to work too much--for my
sake--if you care for me--if it is not too bold of me to say so. I had
fancied you were looking better rather than otherwise: but those
sensations in the head are frightful and ought to be stopped by
whatever means; even by the worst, as they would seem to _me_.
Well--it was bad news to hear of the increase of pain; for the
amendment was a 'passing show' I fear, and not caused even by thoughts
of mine or it would have appeared before; while on the other side (the
sunny side of the way) I heard on that same yesterday, what made me
glad as good news, a whole gospel of good news, and from _you_ too who
profess to say 'less than nothing,' and _that_ was that '_the times
seemed longer to you_':--do you remember saying it? And it made me
glad ... happy--perhaps too glad and happy--and surprised: yes,
surprised!--for if you had told me (but you would not have told me) if
you had let me guess ... just the contrary, ... '_that the times
seemed shorter_,' ... why it would have seemed to _me_ as natural as
nature--oh, believe me it would, and I could not have thought hardly
of you for it in the most secret or silent of my thoughts. How am I
to feel towards you, do you imagine, ... who have the world round you
and yet make me this to you? I never can tell you how, and you never
can know it without having my heart in you with all its experiences:
we measure by those weights. May God bless you! and save _me_ from
being the cause to you of any harm or grief!... I choose it for _my_
blessing instead of another. What should I be if I could fail
willingly to you in the least thing? But I _never will_, and you know
it. I will not move, nor speak, nor breathe, so as willingly and
consciously to touch, with one shade of wrong, that precious deposit
of 'heart and life' ... which may yet be recalled.