Month: July 2017

July 12, 1845.

You understand that it was not a resolution passed in favour of formality, when I said what I did yesterday about not going out at the time you were coming — surely you do; whatever you might signify to a different effect. If it were necessary for me to go out every day, or most days even, it would be otherwise; but as it is, I may certainly keep the day you come, free from the fear of carriages, let the sun shine its best or worst, without doing despite to you or injury to me — and that’s all I meant to insist upon indeed and indeed. Continue reading “#60”

Wednesday Morning.

July 9, 1845.

You are all that is good and kind: I am happy and thankful the beginning (and worst of it) is over and so well. The Park and Mr. Kenyon’s all in good time  – – and your sister was most prudent  – – and you mean to try again: God bless you, all to be said or done  – – but, as I say it, no vain word. No doubt it was a mere chance-thought, and à propos de bottes of Horne  – – Continue reading “#59”

Monday.

July 8, 1845.

Well — I have really been out; and am really alive after it — which is more surprising still — alive enough I mean, to write even so, to-night. But perhaps I say so with more emphasis, to console myself for failing in my great ambition of getting into the Park and of reaching Mr. Kenyon’s door just to leave a card there vaingloriously,  . . . all which I did fail in, and was forced to turn back from the gates of Devonshire Place. The next time it will be better perhaps — Continue reading “#58”

Monday Afternoon.

[Post-mark July 7, 1845.]

While I write this,  – – 3 o’clock you may be going out, I will hope, for the day is very fine, perhaps all the better for the wind: yet I got up this morning sure of bad weather. I shall not try to tell you how anxious I am for the result and to know it. You will of course feel fatigued at first  – – but persevering, as you mean to do, do you not?  – – persevering, the event must be happy. Continue reading “#57”

Wednesday-Thursday Evening

July 4, 1845.

Yes — I know the first part of the ‘Duchess’ and have it here — and for the rest of the poem, don’t mind about being very legible, or even legible in the usual sense; and remember how it is my boast to be able to read all such manuscript writing as never is read by people who don’t like caviare. Now you won’t mind? really I rather like blots than otherwise — being a sort of patron-saint of all manner of untidyness  . . . Continue reading “#56”

Tuesday Morning.

[July 1, 1845]

How are you  – – may I hope to hear soon?

I don’t know exactly what possessed me to set my next day so far off as Saturday  – – as it was said, however, so let it be. Continue reading “#55”