"I wonder what I shall write to you, Ba– I could suppress
my feelings here, as I do on other points, and say nothing of the hatefulness of
this state of things which is prolonged so uselessly. There is the point—show me
one good reason, or show of reason, why we gain anything by deferring our
departure till next week instead of to-morrow, and I will bear to perform
yesterday’s part for the amusement of Mr Kenyon a dozen times over without
complaint. But if the cold plunge must be taken, all this shivering delay
on the bank is hurtful as well as fruitless. I do understand your
anxieties, dearest– I take your fears and make them mine, while I put my own
natural feeling of quite another kind away from us both .. succeeding in
that beyond all expectation. There is no amount of patience or suffering
I would not undergo to relieve you from these apprehensions. But if, on the
whole, you really determine to act as we propose in spite of them,—why, a new
leaf is turned over in our journal, an old part of our adventure done with, and
a new one entered upon, altogether distinct from the other: having once decided
to go to Italy with me, the next thing to decide, is on the best means of going:
or rather, there is just this connection between the two measures, that by the
success or failure of the last, the first will have to be justified or
condemned. You tell me you have decided to go—then, dearest, you will be
prepared to go earlier than you promised yesterday—by the end of September at
very latest. In proportion to the too probable excitement and painful
circumstances of the departure, the greater amount of advantages should be
secured for the departure itself. How can I take you away in even the beginning
of of October? We shall be a fortnight on the journey—with the year, as
everybody sees and says, a full month in advance .. cold mornings and dark
evenings already– Everybody would cry out on such folly when it was found that
we let the favourable weather escape, in full assurance that the autumn would
come to us unattended by any one beneficial circumstance.
My own dearest, I am wholly your own, for ever, and
under every determination of yours. If you find yourself unable, or unwilling to
make this effort, tell me so and plainly and at once– I will not offer a word in
objection: I will continue our present life, if you please, so far as may be
desirable, and wait till next autumn, and the next and the next, till providence
end our waiting. It is clearly not for me to pretend to instruct you in your
duties to God & yourself .. enough, that I have long ago chosen to accept
your decision. If, on the other hand, you make up your mind to leave England
now, you will be prepared by the end of September–
I should think myself the most unworthy of human beings
if I could employ any arguments with the remotest show of a tendency to
frighten you into a compliance with any scheme of mine– Those methods are
for people in another relation to you. But you love me, and, at lowest, shall I
say, wish me well—and the fact is too obvious for me to commit any indelicacy in
reminding you, that in any dreadful event to our journey, of which I could
accuse myself as the cause,—as of this undertaking to travel with you in the
worst time of year when I could have taken the best,—in the case of your health
being irretrievably shaken, for instance .. the happiest fate I should pray for
would be to live and die in some corner where I might never hear a word of the
English language, much less a comment in it on my own wretched imbecility, .. to
disappear and be forgotten.
So that must not be, for all our sakes– My family will
give me to you that we may be both of us happy .. but for such an end—no!
Dearest, do you think all this earnestness foolish and
uncalled for?– That I might know you spoke yesterday in mere jest,—as yourself
said, 'only to hear what I would say'? Ah but, consider, my own Ba, the way of
our life, as it is, and is to be: a word, a simple word from you, is not
as a word is counted in the world: the bond between us is different .. I am
guided by your will, which a word shall signify to me: consider that just such a
word, so spoken, even with that lightness, would make me lay my life at your
feet at any minute: should we gain anything by my trying, if I could, to deaden
the sense of hearing, dull the medium of communication between us; and procuring
that, instead of this prompt rising of my will at the first intimation from
yours; the same effect should only follow after fifty speeches, and as many
protestations of complete serious desire for their success on your part,
accompanied by all kinds of acts and deeds and other evidences of the same?
At all events, God knows I have said this in the
deepest, truest love of you. I will say no more, praying you to forgive whatever
you shall judge to need forgiveness here,—dearest Ba! I will also say, if that
may help me,—and what otherwise I might not have said, that I am not too well
this morning, and write with an aching head. My mother’s suffering continues
too.
My friend Pritchard tells me that Brighton is not to be
thought of under ordinary circumstances as a point of departure for Havre. Its
one packet a week, from Shoreham, cannot get in if the wind & tide are
unfavourable. There is the greatest uncertainty in consequence .. as I have
heard before: while, of course, from Southampton, the departures are calculated
punctually. He considers that the least troublesome plan, and the cheapest, is
to go from London to Havre .. the voyage being so arranged that the river
passage takes up the day and the sea-crossing the night—you reach Havre early in
the morning and get to Paris by four oclock, perhaps, in the afternoon .. in
time, to leave for Orleans and spend the night there, I suppose.
Do I make myself particularly remarkable for silliness
when confronted by our friend as yesterday?—And the shortened visit,—and
comments of everybody. Oh, Mr Hunter, methinks you should be of some use to me
with those amiable peculiarities of yours, if you would just dye your hair
black, take a stick in your hand, sink the clerical character you do such credit
to, and have the goodness just to deliver yourself of one such epithet as
that pleasant one, the next time you find me on the steps of No. 50, with
Mr Kenyon somewhere higher up in the building! It is delectable work this having
to do with relatives and 'freemen who have a right to beat their own negroes' and father Zeus with his paternal epistles,
and peggings to the rock, and immense indignation at 'this marriage you talk of'
which is to release his victim– Is Mr Kenyon Hermes? "
Here Browning is visualizing the Barrett household in a vision of the Greek myths with Papa Barretts as Zeus throwing thunderbolts at his slaves, the visiting aunts as the Chorus and Mr. Kenyon as Hermes who cautioned against defiance. As for Mr. Hunter, Browning does not take well to having been called by the epithet "New Cross Knight" and imagines Hunter sans his gray hair and clerical collar so that he could place his fist briskly to the Rev. Hunter's nose. Yes, I would say that Browning is peeved. So he contributes some Greek to the soap opera:
"Εἰσελθετω σε μηποθ' ὡς ἐγω, Διος
γνωμην φοβηθεις, θηλυγους γενησομαι,και λιπαρησω τον μεγα συγούμενον
γυναικομιμοις ὑπτιασμασιν χερών,
λυσαι με δεσμων τωνδε
του παντος δεω.
Chorus of Aunts: ᾽ημðιν μεν ῾Ερμης ουκ ακαιρα φαινεται
λεγειν· κ.τ.λ.
[Oh! think no more
That I, fear-struck by Zeus to a woman’s mind,
Will supplicate him, loathed as he is,
With womanly upliftings of my hands,
To break these chains! Far from me be the thoughts!
Chorus. This Hermes suits his reasons to the times—
At least I think so!]
Well, bless you in any case–
Your own RB"
Miss Barrett writes today as well:
"I have just come from the vestry in Paddington chapel,
& bore it very well, & saw nobody except one woman. Arabel went with me,
& during the singing we escaped & stood outside the door. Now,
that is over,—& the next time I shall care less. It was a rambling
sermon, which I could hear distinctly through the open door, quite wanting in
coherence, but with good & touching things in it, the more touching that
they came from a preacher whose life is known to us .. from Mr Stratten, for whom I have the greatest respect,
though he never looked into Shakespeare till he was fifty, & shut the book
quickly, perhaps, afterward– He is the very ideal of his class,—&, with some
of the narrow views peculiar to it, has a heart of miraculous breadth &
depth,—loving further than he can see, pitying beyond what he can approve,
having in him a divine Christian spirit, the ‘love of love’ in the most
expansive form. How that man is beloved by his congregation, the members of his
church, by his children, his friends, is wonderful to see—for everybody seems to
love him from afar, as a man is loved who is of a purer nature than
others– There is that reverence in the love– And yet no fear. His children have
been encouraged & instructed to speak aloud before him on religion &
other subjects in all freedom of conscience—he turns to his little daughter
seriously 'to hear what she thinks'. The other day his eldest son, whom he had
hoped to see succeed him at Paddington, determined to enter the Church of
England: his wife became quite ill with grief about
it, & to himself perhaps it was a trial, a disappointment. With the utmost
gentleness & tenderness however, he desired him to take time for thought
& act according to his conscience.– I believe for my part that there never
was a holier man .. 'except those bonds' ..
never a man who more resolutely trod under his feet every form of evil &
selfish passion when it was once recognized, & looked to God & the truth
with a directer aspiration. Once I could not help wishing to put our affairs
into his hands to settle them for us—but that would be wrong—because Papa
would forbid Arabel’s going to the chapel or communicating with his family,
& it would be depriving her of a comfort she holds dear– Oh no– And besides,
you are wise in taking the other view–"
The Rev. Stratten certainly gets a rave review from Miss Barrett.
"Think of our waiting day after day to fall into the net
so, yesterday! How I was provoked & vexed—but more for you, dearest dearest,
than for me—much more for you. As for me I saw you, which was joy enough,
let the hours be ever so clipped of their natural proportions—& then, you
know, you were obliged to go soon, whether Mr Kenyon had come or not come. After
you were gone, nothing was said, & nothing asked—and it is delightful to
have heard of those intended absences one upon another till far into October,
which will secure us from future embarrassments. See if he means to put us to
the question! Not such a thing is in his thoughts."
So Mr. Kenyon is going away. Perfect timing!
"And I said what you 'would not have believed of me'!
Have you forgiven me, beloved, for saying what you would not have believed of
me,—understanding that I did not mean it very seriously, though I proved to be
capable of saying it? Seriously, I dont want to make unnecessary delays– It is a
horrible position, however I may cover it with your roses & the thoughts of
you—& far worse to myself than to you, inasmuch that what is painful to you
once a week, is to me so continually– To hear the voice of my father & meet
his eye, makes me shrink back—to talk to my brothers, leaves my nerves all
trembling .. & even to receive the sympathy of my sisters turns into sorrow
& fear, lest they should suffer through their affection for me. How I can
look & sleep as well as I do, is a miracle exactly like the rest—or would
be, if the love were not the deepest & strongest thing of all, & did not
hold & possess me overcomingly. I feel myself to be yours notwithstanding
every other influence, & being yours, cannot but be happy by you. Ah—let
people talk as they please of the happiness of early youth! Mrs Jameson did, the
other day, when she wished kindly to take her young niece with her to the
continent, that she might enjoy what in a few years she could not so much enjoy.
There is a sort of blind joy common perhaps to such times—a blind joy which
blunts itself with its own leaps & bounds; peculiar to a time of comparative
ignorance & inexperience of evil:—but I for my part, with all the capacity
for happiness which I had from the beginning, I look back & listen to my
whole life, & feel sure of what I have already told you, .. that I am
happier now than I ever was before .. infinitely happier now, through you
.. infinitely happier; even now in this position I have just called ‘horrible’.
When I hear you say for instance, that you ‘love me perceptibly more’ …
why I cannot, cannot be more happy than when I hear you say that—going to
Italy seems nothing! a vulgar walk to Primrose Hill after being caught up to the
third Heaven!–I think nothing of Italy now, though I
shall enjoy it of course when the time comes. I think only that you love me,
that you are the angel of my life,—& for the despair & desolation behind
me, they serve to mark the hour of your coming,—& they are behind, as
Italy is before. Never can you feel for me, Robert, as I feel for
you .. it is not possible of course. I am yours in a way & degree
which the tenderest of other women could not be at her will– Which you know. Why
should I repeat it to you? Why, except that it is a reason to prove that we
cannot, as you say, 'ever be a common wife & husband'. But I dont think I
was intending to give proofs of that—no, indeed.
Tomorrow I shall hear from you. Say how your mother is,
in the second letter if you do not in the first– May God bless you & keep
you dearest beloved—"
A contrasting pair of letters. Browning is palpably angry and frustrated. She seems to be feeling the same frustration but seems more sanguine about it. She certainly has more personal anxiety than Browning who has nothing but total support at home. She is being deceitful to everyone she talks to everyday. The only ones she isn't hiding the truth from are Browning and Boyd. And she is certainly not a dishonest person, although she has freely acknowledged that she and her siblings freely lie to their father. But even so, she believes she is happy in the love that brings the pain and certainly is not angry.
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