Not unwell--_I_ am not! I forgot it, which proves how I am not.
_R.B. to E.B.B._
Friday Morning.
[Post-mark, February 13, 1846.]
Two nights ago I read the 'Soul's Tragedy' once more, and though there
were not a few points which still struck me as successful in design
and execution, yet on the whole I came to a decided opinion, that it
will be better to postpone the publication of it for the present. It
is not a good ending, an auspicious wind-up of this series;
subject-matter and style are alike unpopular even for the literary
_grex_ that stands aloof from the purer _plebs_, and uses that
privilege to display and parade an ignorance which the other is
altogether unconscious of--so that, if 'Luria' is _clearish_, the
'Tragedy' would be an unnecessary troubling the waters. Whereas, if I
printed it first in order, my readers, according to custom, would make
the (comparatively) little they did not see into, a full excuse for
shutting their eyes at the rest, and we may as well part friends, so
as not to meet enemies. But, at bottom, I believe the proper objection
is to the immediate, _first_ effect of the whole--its moral
effect--which is dependent on the contrary supposition of its being
really understood, in the main drift of it. Yet I don't know; for I
wrote it with the intention of producing the best of all
effects--perhaps the truth is, that I am tired, rather, and desirous
of getting done, and 'Luria' will answer my purpose so far. Will not
the best way be to reserve this unlucky play and in the event of a
second edition--as Moxon seems to think such an apparition
possible--might not this be quietly inserted?--in its place, too, for
it was written two or three years ago. I have lost, of late, interest
in dramatic writing, as you know, and, perhaps, occasion. And,
dearest, I mean to take your advice and be quiet awhile and let my
mind get used to its new medium of sight; seeing all things, as it
does, through you: and then, let all I have done be the prelude and
the real work begin. I felt it would be so before, and told you at the
very beginning--do you remember? And you spoke of Io 'in the proem.'
How much more should follow now!
And if nothing follows, I have _you_.
I shall see you to-morrow and be happy. To-day--is it the weather or
what?--something depresses me a little--to-morrow brings the remedy
for it all. I don't know why I mention such a matter; except that I
tell you everything without a notion of after-consequence; and because
your dearest, dearest presence seems under any circumstances as if
created just to help me _there_; if my spirits rise they fly to you;
if they fall, they hold by you and cease falling--as now. Bless you,
Ba--my own best blessing that you are! But a few hours and I am with
you, beloved!