_People's Journal_ for March 7th.
_R.B. to E.B.B._
Tuesday Morning.
[Post-mark, March 10, 1846.]
Dear, dear Ba, if you were here I should not much _speak_ to you, not
at first--nor, indeed, at last,--but as it is, sitting alone, only
words can be spoken, or (worse) written, and, oh how different to look
into the eyes and imagine what _might_ be said, what ought to be said,
though it never can be--and to sit and say and write, and only imagine
who looks above me, looks down, understanding and pardoning all! My
love, my Ba, the fault you found once with some expressions of mine
about the amount of imperishable pleasures already hoarded in my mind,
the indestructible memories of you; that fault, which I refused to
acquiesce under the imputation of, at first, you remember--well,
_what_ a fault it was, by this better light! If all stopped here and
now; horrible! complete oblivion were the thing to be prayed for,
rather! As it is, _now_, I must go on, must live the life out, and die
yours. And you are doing your utmost to advance the event of
events,--the exercise, and consequently (is it not?) necessarily
improved sleep, and the projects for the fine days, the walking ... a
pure bliss to think of! Well, now--I think I shall show seamanship of
a sort, and 'try another tack'--do not be over bold, my sweetest; the
cold _is_ considerable,--taken into account the previous mildness. One
ill-advised (I, the _adviser_, I should remember!) too early, or too
late descent to the drawing-room, and all might be ruined,--thrown
back so far ... seeing that our flight is to be prayed for 'not in the
winter'--and one would be called on to wait, wait--in this world where
nothing waits, rests, as can be counted on. Now think of this, too,
dearest, and never mind the slowness, for the sureness' sake! How
perfectly happy I am as you stand by me, as yesterday you stood, as
you seem to stand now!
I will write to-morrow more: I came home last night with a head rather
worse; which in the event was the better, for I took a little medicine
and all is very much improved to-day. I shall go out presently, and
return very early and take as much care as is proper--for I thought of
Ba, and the sublimities of Duty, and that gave myself airs of
importance, in short, as I looked at my mother's inevitable arrow-root
this morning. So now I am well; so now, is dearest Ba well? I shall
hear to-night ... which will have its due effect, that circumstance,
in quickening my retreat from Forster's Rooms. All was very pleasant
last evening--and your letter &c. went _à qui de droit_, and Mr. W.
_Junior_ had to smile good-naturedly when Mr. Burges began laying down
this general law, that the sons of all men of genius were poor
creatures--and Chorley and I exchanged glances after the fashion of
two Augurs meeting at some street-corner in Cicero's time, as he says.
And Mr. Kenyon was kind, kinder, kindest, as ever, 'and thus ends a
wooing'!--no, a dinner--my wooing ends never, never; and so prepare
to be asked to give, and give, and give till all is given in Heaven!
And all I give _you_ is just my heart's blessing; God bless you, my
dearest, dearest Ba!
_E.B.B. to R.B._
Tuesday Evening.
[Post-mark, March 11, 1846.]
You find my letter I trust, for it was written this morning in time;
and if these two lines should not be flattery ... oh, rank flattery!
... why happy letter is it, to help to bring you home ten minutes
earlier, when you never ought to have left home--no, indeed! I knew
how it would be yesterday, and how you would be worse and not better.
You are not fit to go out, dear dearest, to sit in the glare of lights
and talk and listen, and have the knives and forks to rattle all the
while and remind you of the chains of necessity. Oh--should I bear it,
do you think? I was thinking, when you went away--_after_ you had
quite gone. You would laugh to see me at my dinner--Flush and
me--Flush placing in me such an heroic confidence, that, after he has
cast one discriminating glance on the plate, and, in the case of
'chicken,' wagged his tail with an emphasis, ... he goes off to the
sofa, shuts his eyes and allows a full quarter of an hour to pass
before he returns to take his share. Did you ever hear of a dog before
who did not persecute one with beseeching eyes at mealtimes? And
remember, this is not the effect of _discipline_. Also if another than
myself happens to take coffee or break bread in the room here, he
teazes straightway with eyes and paws, ... teazes like a common dog
and is put out of the door before he can be quieted by scolding. But
with _me_ he is sublime! Moreover he has been a very useful dog in his
time (in the point of capacity), causing to disappear supererogatory
dinners and impossible breakfasts which, to do him justice, is a feat
accomplished without an objection on his side, always.
So, when you write me such a letter, I write back to you about Flush.
Dearest beloved, but I have read the letter and felt it in my heart,
through and through! and it is as wise to talk of Flush foolishly, as
to fancy that I _could say how_ it is felt ... this letter! Only when
you spoke last of breaking off with such and such recollections, it
was the melancholy of the breaking off which I protested against, was
it not? and _not_ the insufficiency of the recollections. There might
have been something besides in jest. Ah, but _you_ remember, if you
please, that _I_ was the first to wish (wishing for my own part, if I
could wish exclusively) to break off in the middle the silken thread,
and you told me, not--you forbade me--do you remember? For, as
happiness goes, the recollections were enough, ... _are_ enough for
_me_! I mean that I should acknowledge them to be full compensation
for the bitter gift of life, _such as it was_, to me! if that
subject-matter were broken off here! 'Bona verba' let me speak
nevertheless. You mean, you say, to run all risks with me, and I don't
mean to draw back from my particular risk of ... what am I to do to
you hereafter to make you vexed with me? What is there in marriage to
make all these people on every side of us, (who all began, I suppose,
by talking of love,) look askance at one another from under the silken
mask ... and virtually hate one another through the tyranny of the
stronger and the hypocrisy of the weaker party. It never could be so
with _us_--_I know that_. But you grow awful to me sometimes with the
very excess of your goodness and tenderness, and still, I think to
myself, if you do not keep lifting me up quite off the ground by the
strong faculty of love in you, I shall not help falling short of the
hope you have placed in me--it must be 'supernatural' of you, to the
end! or I fall short and disappoint you. Consider this, beloved. Now
if I could put my soul out of my body, just to stand up before you
and make it clear.
I did go to the drawing-room to-day ... would ... should ... did. The
sun came out, the wind changed ... where was the obstacle? I spent a
quarter of an hour in a fearful solitude, listening for knocks at the
door, as a ghost-fearer might at midnight, and 'came home' none the
worse in any way. Be sure that I shall 'take care' better than you do,
and there, is the worst of it all--for _you_ let people make you ill,
and do it yourself upon occasion.
You know from my letter how I found you out in the matter of the
'Soul's Tragedy.' Oh! so bad ... so weak, so unworthy of your name! If
some other people were half a quarter as much the contrary!
And so, good-night, dear dearest. In spite of my fine speeches about
'recollections,' I should be unhappy enough to please you, with _only
those_ ... without you beside! I could not take myself back from being