The Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Barrett Part 11

Monday.

[Post-mark, June 24, 1845.]

I had begun to be afraid that I did not deserve to have my questions answered; and I was afraid of asking them over again. But it is worse to be afraid that you are not better at all in any essential manner (after all your a.s.surances) and that the medical means have failed so far. Did you go to somebody who knows anything?--because there is no excuse, you see, in common sense, for not having the best and most experienced opinion when there is a choice of advice--and I am confident that that pain should not be suffered to go on without something being done. What I said about _nerves_, related to what you had told me of your mother's suffering and what you had fancied of the relation of it to your own, and not that I could be thinking about imaginary complaints--I wish I could. Not (either) that I believe in the relation ... because such things are not hereditary, are they? and the bare coincidence is improbable. Well, but, I wanted particularly to say this--_Don't bring the 'd.u.c.h.ess' with you on Wednesday._ I shall not expect anything, I write distinctly to tell you--and I would far far rather that you did not bring it. You see it is just as I thought--for that whether too much thought or study did or did not bring on the illness, ... yet you admit that reading and writing increase it ... as they would naturally do any sort of pain in the head--therefore if you will but be in earnest and try to get well _first_, we will do the 'Bells' afterwards, and there will be time for a whole peal of them, I hope and trust, before the winter. Now do admit that this is reasonable, and agree reasonably to it. And if it does you good to go out and take exercise, why not go out and take it?

nay, why not go _away_ and take it? Why not try the effect of a little change of air--or even of a great change of air--if it should be necessary, or even expedient? Anything is better, you know ... or if you don't know, _I_ know--than to be ill, really, seriously--I mean for _you_ to be ill, who have so much to do and to enjoy in the world yet ... and all those bells waiting to be hung! So that if you will agree to be well first, I will promise to be ready afterwards to help you in any thing I can do ... transcribing or anything ... to get the books through the press in the shortest of times--and I am capable of a great deal of that sort of work without being tired, having the habit of writing in any sort of position, and the long habit, ...

since, before I was ill even, I never used to write at a table (or scarcely ever) but on the arm of a chair, or on the seat of one, sitting myself on the floor, and calling myself a Lollard for dignity.

So you will put by your 'd.u.c.h.ess' ... will you not? or let me see just that one sheet--if one should be written--which is finished? ... up to this moment, you understand? finished _now_.

And if I have tired and teazed you with all these words it is a bad opportunity to take--and yet I will persist in saying through good and bad opportunities that I never did 'give cause' as you say, to your being 'suspicious of my suspiciousness' as I believe I said before. I deny my 'suspiciousness' altogether--it is not one of my faults. Nor is it quite my fault that you and I should always be quarrelling about over-appreciations and under-appreciations--and after all I have no interest nor wish, I do a.s.sure you, to depreciate myself--and you are not to think that I have the remotest claim to the Monthyon prize for good deeds in the way of modesty of self-estimation. Only when I know you better, as you talk of ... and when _you_ know _me_ too well, ...

the right and the wrong of these conclusions will appear in a fuller light than ever so much arguing can produce now. Is it unkindly written of me? _no_--I _feel_ it is not!--and that 'now and ever we are friends,' (just as you think) _I_ think besides and am happy in thinking so, and could not be distrustful of you if I tried. So may G.o.d bless you, my ever dear friend--and mind to forget the 'd.u.c.h.ess'

and to remember every good counsel!--Not that I do particularly confide in the medical oracles. They never did much more for _me_ than, when my pulse was above a hundred and forty with fever, to give me digitalis to make me weak--and, when I could not move without fainting (with weakness), to give me quinine to make me feverish again. Yes--and they could tell from the stethoscope, how very little was really wrong in me ... if it were not on a vital organ--and how I should certainly live ... if I didn't die sooner. But then, nothing _has_ power over affections of the chest, except G.o.d and his winds--and I do hope that an obvious quick remedy may be found for your head. But _do_ give up the writing and all that does harm!--

Ever yours, my dear friend,

E.B.B.

Miss Mitford talked of spending Wednesday with me--and I have put it off to Thursday:--and if you should hear from Mr. Chorley that he is coming to see _her and me together on any day_, do understand that it was entirely her proposition and not mine, and that certainly it won't be acceded to, as far as _I_ am concerned; as I have explained to her finally. I have been vexed about it--but she can see him down-stairs as she has done before--and if she calls me perverse and capricious (which she will do) I shall stop the reflection by thanking her again and again (as I can do sincerely) for her kindness and goodness in coming to see me herself, so far!--

_R.B. to E.B.B._

Tuesday Morning, [Post-mark, June 24, 1845.]

(So my friend did not in the spirit see me write that _first_ letter, on Friday, which was too good and true to send, and met, five minutes after, its natural fate accordingly. Then on Sat.u.r.day I thought to take health by storm, and walked myself half dead all the morning--about town too: last post-hour from this Thule of a suburb--4 P.M. on Sat.u.r.days, next expedition of letters, 8 A.M. on Mondays;--and then my real letter set out with the others--and, it should seem, set at rest a 'wonder whether thy friend's questions deserved answering'--de-served--answer-ing--!)

Parenthetically so much--I want most, though, to tell you--(leaving out any slightest attempt at thanking you) that I am much better, quite well to-day--that my doctor has piloted me safely through two or three illnesses, and knows all about me, I do think--and that he talks confidently of getting rid of all the symptoms complained of--and _has_ made a good beginning if I may judge by to-day. As for going abroad, that is just the thing I most want to avoid (for a reason not so hard to guess, perhaps, as why my letter was slow in arriving).

So, till to-morrow,--my light through the dark week.

G.o.d ever bless you, dear friend,

R.B.

_E.B.B. to R.B._

Tuesday Evening.

[Post-mark, June 25, 1845.]

What will you think when I write to ask you _not_ to come to-morrow, Wednesday; but ... on Friday perhaps, instead? But do see how it is; and judge if it is to be helped.

I have waited hour after hour, hoping to hear from Miss Mitford that she would agree to take Thursday in change for Wednesday,--and just as I begin to wonder whether she can have received my letter at all, or whether she may not have been vexed by it into taking a vengeance and adhering to her own devices; (for it appealed to her esprit de s.e.xe on the undeniable axiom of women having their way ... and she might choose to act it out!) just as I wonder over all this, and consider what a confusion of the elements it would be if you came and found her here, and Mr. Chorley at the door perhaps, waiting for some of the light of her countenance;--comes a note from Mr. Kenyon, to the effect that _he_ will be here at four o'clock P.M.--and comes a final note from my aunt Mrs. Hedley (supposed to be at Brighton for several months) to the effect that _she_ will be here at twelve o'clock, M.!!

So do observe the constellation of adverse stars ... or the covey of 'bad birds,' as the Romans called them, and that there is no choice, but to write as I am writing. It can't be helped--can it? For take away the doubt about Miss Mitford, and Mr. Kenyon remains--and take away Mr. Kenyon, and there is Mrs. Hedley--and thus it _must be for Friday_ ... which will learn to be a fortunate day for the nonce--unless Sat.u.r.day should suit you better. I do not speak of Thursday, because of the doubt about Miss Mitford--and if any harm should happen to Friday, I will write again; but if you do not hear again, and are able to come then, you _will_ come perhaps then.

In the meantime I thank you for the better news in your note--if it is really, really to be trusted in--but you know, you have said so often that you were better and better, without being really better, that it makes people ... 'suspicious.' Yet it is full amends for the disappointment to hope ... here I must break off or be too late. May G.o.d bless you my dear friend.

E.B.B.

_R.B. to E.B.B._

12. Wednesday.

[Post-mark, June 25, 1845.]

Pomegranates you may cut deep down the middle and see into, but not hearts,--so why should I try and speak?

Friday is best day because nearest, but Sat.u.r.day is next best--it is next near, you know: if I get no note, therefore, Friday is my day.

Now is Post-time,--which happens properly.

G.o.d bless you, and so your own

R.B.

_E.B.B. to R.B._

Thursday Evening.

[Post-mark, June 27, 1845.]

After all it must be for Sat.u.r.day, as Mrs. Hedley comes again on Friday, to-morrow, from _New Cross_,--or just beyond it, Eltham Park--to London for a few days, on account of the illness of one of her children. I write in the greatest haste after Miss Mitford has left me ... and _so_ tired! to say this, that if you can and will come on Sat.u.r.day, ... or if not on Monday or Tuesday, there is no reason against it.

Your friend always,

E.B.B.

_R.B. to E.B.B._

Friday Morning.

[Post-mark, June 27, 1845.]

Let me make haste and write down _To-morrow_, Sat.u.r.day, and not later, lest my selfishness be thoroughly got under in its struggle with a better feeling that tells me you must be far too tired for another visitor this week.

What shall I decide on?

Well--Sat.u.r.day is said--but I will stay not quite so long, nor talk nearly so loud as of old-times; nor will you, if you understand anything of me, fail to send down word should you be at all indisposed. I should not have the heart to knock at the door unless I really believed you would do that. Still saying this and providing against the other does not amount, I well know, to the generosity, or justice rather, of staying away for a day or two altogether. But--what 'a day or two' may not bring forth! Change to you, change to me--

Not all of me, however, can change, thank G.o.d--

Yours ever

R.B.