I meant to write you a long letter today,—but first my
aunt & cousin were here telling me all the statistics of Arabella Hedley’s
marriage,—& then Mr Kenyon came, .. & on such a very different subject,
his talk was, that he has left me quite depressed—. It appears that poor
Mr Haydon, in a paper entering into his reasons for selfdestruction, says, that
he has left his manuscripts to me, with a desire for me to arrange the
terms of their publication with Longman. Of course it has affected me naturally
.. such a proof of trust when he had so many friends wiser & stronger to
look to—but I believe the reference to be simply to the fact of his
having committed to my care all his private papers in a great trunk .. one of
three which he sent here. Two years ago when we corresponded, he made me read a
good part of his memoirs, which he thought of publishing at that time, .. &
then he asked me (no, it was a year & a half ago) to speak about them to
some bookseller .. to Longman, he said, I remember, then. I explained, in reply,
how I had not any influence with any bookseller in the world,—advising him
besides not to think of printing, without considerable modification, what I had
read. In fact it was .. with much that was individual & interesting, .. as
unfit as possible for the general reader—fervid & coarse at once, with
personal references blood-dyed at every page—. At the last, I suppose, the idea
came back to him of my name in conjunction with Longman’s– I cannot think that
he meant me to do any editor’s work—for which (with whatever earnestness
of will) I must be comparatively unfit, both as a woman & as personally
& historically ignorant of the persons & times he writes of. I should
not know how one reference would fall innocently, & another like a
thunderbolt on surviving persons. I only know that without great modification,
the memoirs should not appear at all .. that the scandal would be great if they
did. At the same time you will feel with me, I am sure, you who always feel with
me, that whatever is clearly set for me to do, I should not shrink from under
these circumstances, whatever the unpleasantness may be, more or less, involved
in the doing. But if Mr Serjt Talfourd is the executor .. is he not the
obviously fit person––well!—there is no need to talk any more. Mr Kenyon is to
try to see the paper. It was Mr Forster who came to tell him of this matter
& to get him to communicate it to me. Poor Haydon!
Dearest, I long for you to come & bring me a little
light. Tell me how you are—now tell me. Tell me too how your mother is....
My aunt’s presence here has seemed to throw me back
suddenly & painfully into real life out of my dream-life with you--into the
old dreary flats of real life. She does not know your name even—she sees in me
just Ba who is not your Ba—& when she talks to me .. seeing me so ..
I catch the reflection of the cold abstraction as she apprehends it,
& feel myself for a moment a Ba who is not your Ba .. sliding back into the
melancholy of it!– Do you understand the curious process I talk of so mistily?
Do you understand that she makes me sorrowful with not talking of you
while she talks to me? Everything, in fact, that divides us, I must
suffer from—so I need not treat metaphysically of causes & causes ..
splitting the thinner straws....
Robert!—how did you manage to write me the dear note
from Mrs Jameson’s? how could you dare
write & direct it before her eyes? What an audacity that was of yours.
Oh—and how I regretted the missing you, as you proved it was a missing, by the
letter! Twice to miss you on one day, seemed too much ill luck … even for
me, I was going to write .. but that would have been a word of my
old life, before I knew that I was born to the best fortune & happiest,
which any woman could have, .. in being loved by you.
Dearest, do not leave off loving me– Do not forget me by
wednesday. Shall it be wednesday? or must it be thursday? answer you."
This Haydon business has sent Miss Barrett into a funk. She has been riding high on the sea of love and unkempt reality has run her into rough waters. But Browning sends words of love to cheer her:
"You will have known by my two or three words, that I received your letter in
time to set out for Mrs J’s—she said to me, directly and naturally, “you have
missed a great pleasure”—and then, accounted for your absence. Do not be sorry,
Ba, at my gladness .. for I was, I hope, glad .. yes, I am sure, glad that you
ran no risk,—if you will not think of that, think of my risk if
you had “fainted” .. should I have kept the secret, do you suppose? Oh,
dearest of all dreamt of dearness,—incur no unnecessary danger now, at .. shall
I dare trust,—the end of the adventure! I cannot fear for any mischances that
may follow, once let my arms be round you .. I mean, the blow seems then
to fall on both alike .. now, what dismal, obscure months might be prolonged
between us, before we meet next, by a caprice where the power is! When have I
been so long without the blessing of your sight! Yet how considerately you have
written, what amends you make, all that the case admits of!
When you say these exquisitely dear and tender things, you know, Ba, it is as if
the sweet hand were on my mouth. I cannot speak .. I try to seem as if I heard
not, for all the joy of hearing .. you give me a jewel and I cannot repeat “yes,
you do give me a jewel” .. I am not worthy of any gift, you must know, Ba,—never say you do not—but what you press on
me, let me feel, and half-see, and in the end, carry away, but do not think I
can, in set words, take them—at most, they are, and shall be, half-gift,
half-loan for adornment’s sake,—mine to wear, yours to take back again. Even
this, all this ungracefulness is proper, appropriate in its way. I am penetrated
with shame thinking on what you say, and what my utmost devotion will deserve ..
so infinitely less will it deserve! You are my very, very angel."
Receiving that letter in the evening surely will lift her out of her trough, at least until the next big wave hits the boat.
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