[Postmark: June 1, 1846]
Sunday.
My own Ba, do you want to turn my head with good
fortune and get at my secrets, that you give me two letters
in one day ? For there was too much life and warmth, I
do think, in these last, to be kept in the Postman’s pouch
as before — he delivered them punctually as he was obliged,
not before his cold newspapers and railway-prospectuses felt
astonished, you may be sure ; so, as I say, do you want to
try my temper and bring out infirmities of mind that may
be latent, as kings used to put robes and crowns on their
favourites to see what they would do then ?
I will try and say as soberly as I can, — if you did not
write to me for a week, I would remember and love you
the same — you are not bound to any kindness, much less to
this extravagance— which yet so blesses me that —
Let me leave what I can never say, and make the few
remarks I ought to have made before. Mrs. Jameson did
tell me something about her intended journey to Italy — but
not in detail as to you. Miss Bayley seems worthy to be
your friend, dearest, — and it is satisfactory, very satisfactory
to find her opinion thus confirming yours, of the good
you will derive from travelling. You know I look on
you with absolute awe, in a sense, — I don’t understand how
such a creature lives and breathes and moves and does not
move into fine air altogether and leave us of the Etty-
manufacture ! I have solemnly set down in the tablets of
my brain that Ba prefers morphine to pork, but can eat so
much of a chicken as Flush refuses — a chapter in my
natural history quite as important as one in Pliny’s (and
∆lian’s too) — ‘ When the Lion is sick, nothing can cure
him but to eat an Ape ! ‘ — though not so important as my
great, greatest record of all — ‘ A cup of coffee will generally
cure Ba’s headaches — ‘
As for Pisa or Florence, or Sorrento, or New Orleans, —
ubi Ba, ibi R.B. ! Florence, however, you describe exactly
. . the English there are intolerable, — even from a distance
you see that. Indeed, I have heard here in England of a
regular system of tactics by which parvenus manage to get
among the privileged classes which at home would keep them
off inexorably. Such go to Florence, make acquaintance
as ‘ travellers,’ keeping the native connexions in the farthest
of back grounds, and after a year or two’s expatriation,
come back and go boldly to rejoice the friends they ‘ passed
those amusing days with ‘ &c.
What you say of Lough is right and true in one point of
view — but I excuse him, knowing the way of life in London
— what alternative has he ? Even when you ask people by
ones and twos, and think to be rational, what do you get
for your pains ? Not long ago somebody invited himself to
dine with me — and got of course the plainest fare, and just
hock and claret, because I like them better than heavier
wines myself, and suppose others may. I had to dine in
the same manner with my friend a week after, and he
judiciously began by iced champagne, forced vegetables &c.
What was that but telling me such was his notion of the
duty of the giver of ‘ just a chop ‘ according to stipulation ?
It is all detestable — a mere pretext ! there is simply a
‘fait accompli’ in every such dinner, — it is an eternal record
(to the seasons’ end) that you witnessed (because you may
let it alone for aught anybody cares, so long as you have
eyes and can see) — such a succession of turbot, and springsoup
and — basta ! I shall go and take tea with Carlyle
before very long. Lough has asked me more than once,
but I never went. I like him when he is not on the subject
of himself or other artists. Of one particular in his liberality
I can bear testimony, he promises at a great rate. Some
three years ago he most preposterously signified his intention
of giving me a cast of one of his busts — me who had
neither claim on him, the slightest, nor much desire for the
bust ; but on this intimation I was bound to express as
many thanks as if the bust had arrived in very plaster, —
which it has not done to this day; so that I was too
prodigal, you see, and instead of thanks ought to have
contented myself with making over to him the whole profits
of ‘ Luria ‘—value received. But, jokes apart, he is a good,
kind man I believe, so don’t mention this absurdity to your
sister — which I am sorry for having mentioned now that
mentioned it is ! So sorrow shall be turned into joy, for I
will only think that the evening is come, and night will
follow, and morning end . . 3 o’clock with all of dearest,
dearest Ba, — with the walkings and drivings to evidence in
her face? My face, thank God, I am let say to my
unutterable joy and pride and love, above all other feelings.
Ever your own.