Monday. 12 o’clock.
I get nothing by the post this morning : — perhaps
at next delivery ! Well, I had the unexpected largess
yesterday, you know. At this time last year the letters
came once a week ! Now the manna falls as manna should
omitting only the seventh day.
Do you know, my Ba, — the Campbell mystery is all but
solved, to my thinking, by supposing, as one may, that,
those foolish ladies confound their cousin’s friend Brown,
an indubitable Scot and Lord Jeffrey’s nephew, — (and their
intimate for aught I know) — with me. He is in town now ;
did dine with them just before I saw him a fortnight ago ;
and may meditate happiness with Miss Campbell, and be
provided with a paragon of a ‘ sister ‘ besides. Those
ladies have been to Scotland — may easily know him there
and see ‘ sights ‘ with him here. Is not all this likely ?
It is not worth writing about to White, nor a visit to him at
Doctors’ Commons, but when I next chance on his company,
I will enquire.
Here is the review, — which I like very much — the introductory,
abstract remarks might be better, but so it always
is when a man, having really something to say about one
precise thing your poems, thinks he had better preface it by
a little graceful generality. All he wanted to write, I agree
in, thoroughly agree, — though I cannot but fancy my own
selection, — that might be, — of passages and single poems !
And, dearest, I venture to keep back the Statesmen,
as I asked leave to do yesterday, for the reasons then given
— may I keep it back ?
Also I return those sketches, — now they have been in
your hand, they cannot lie about here — I keep brown paper
with your writing on it, and string, and the wrappage of
this pen of mine — to be sure) so I shall get you to bear
with them again, two or three being added, just as I find
them. There is, too, the ode which was presented to me
on my departure from Rome by an enthusiastic Roman ;
red ribbon and all ! And last of all you have my play as
altered by Macready : greater excisions had been determined
on, but on the appearance of the printed copy had the
effect it intended . . it would have been too ludicrous to
leave out the whole of the first scene, for instance (as was
in contemplation), and then to tell the public ‘ my play ‘ had
been acted. I refer to this silly business only to show
you what success or non-success on the stage, means and is
worth. It is all behind me now — so far behind !
Now I will wait and see what next post may bring me
from dearest Ba — Ba, the dear, and the beloved, e sopra
tutto, the tall ! Does she not ‘ stand high in the affection ‘
— of her very own
R. B. ?