[Postmark: June 12, 1846]
Friday.
When I am close to you, in your very room, I see through
your eyes and feel what you feel but after, the sight widens
with the circle of outside things I cannot fear for a moment
what seemed redoubtable enough yesterday – nor do I
believe that there will be two opinions anywhere in the
world as to your perfect right to do as you please under the
present circumstances. People are not quite so tolerant to
other people’s preposterousness, and that which yourself
tell me exceeds anything I ever heard of or imagined – but,
dearest, on twice thinking, one surely ought not to coun-
tenance it as you propose – why should not my father and
mother know ? What possible harm can follow from their
knowing ? Why should I wound them to the very soul and
for ever, by as gratuitous a piece of unkindness as if, – no, –
there is no comparison will do ! Because, since I was a
child I never looked for the least or greatest thing within
the compass of their means to give, but given it was, nor
for liberty but it was conceded, nor confidence but it was
bestowed. I dare say they would break their hearts at such
an end of all. For in any case they will take my feeling
for their own with implicit trust and if I brought them a
beggar, or a famous actress even, they would believe in her
because of me, – if a Duchess or Miss Hudson, or Lady
Selina Huntingdon rediviva . . they would do just the same,
sorrow to say ! As to any harm or blame that can attach
itself to them, it is too absurd to think of ! What earthly
control can they have over me ? They live here, – I go my
own way, being of age and capability. How can they
interfere ?
And then, blame for what, in either God’s or the devil’s
name ? I believe you to be the one woman in the world I
am able to marry because able to love. I wish, on some
accounts, I had foreseen the contingency of such an one’s
crossing my path in this life – but I did not, and on all
ordinary grounds preferred being free and poor, accordingly.
All is altered now. Does anybody doubt that I can by
application in proper quarters obtain quite enough to support
us both in return for no extraordinary expenditure of such
faculties as I have ? If it is to be doubted, I have been
greatly misinformed, that is all. Or, setting all friends and
their proposals and the rest of the hatefulness aside – I
should say that so simple a procedure as writing to anybody
. . Lord Monteagle, for instance, who reads and likes my
works, as he said at Moxon’s two days ago on calling there
for a copy to give away . . surely to write to him, ‘ When you
are minister next month, as is expected, will you give me for
my utmost services about as much as you give Tennyson for
nothing ? ‘ – this would be rational and as easy as all ration-
ality. Let me do so, and at once, my own Ba ! And do you,
like the unutterably noble creature I know you, transfer
your own advantages to your brothers or sisters . . making
if you please a proper reservation in the case of my own
exertions failing, as failure comes everywhere. So shall
the one possible occasion of calumny be removed and all
other charges go for the simple absurdities they will be. I
am entirely in earnest about this, and indeed had thought
for a moment of putting my own share of the project into
immediate execution – but on consideration, – no ! So I
will live and so die with you. I will not be poorly endeavour-
ing to startle you with unforeseen generosities, catch you in
pretty pitfalls of magnanimities, be always surprising you, or
trying to do it. No, I resolve to do my best, through you –
by your counsel, with your help, under your eye . . the
most strenuous endeavour will only approximate to an
achievement of that, – and to suppose a superfluousness of
devotion to you (as all these surprises do) would be
miserably foolish. So, dear, dear Ba, understand and
advise me. I took up the paper with ordinary feelings . .
but the absurdity and tyranny suddenly flashed upon me . .
it must not be borne – indeed its only safety in this instance
is in its impotency. I am not without fear of some things
in this world – but the ‘ wrath of men,’ all the men living
put together, I fear as I fear the fly I have just put out of
the window ; but I fear God – and am ready, he knows, to
die this moment in taking his part against any piece of in-
justice and oppression, so I aspire to die !
See this long letter, and all about a tiny one, a plain
palpable commonplace matter about which you agree with
me, you the dear quiet Ba of my heart, with me that make
all this unnecessary fuss ! See what is behind all the
‘ bated breath and whispered humbleness ? ‘ – but it is right,
after all, to revolt against such monstrous tyranny. And I
ought not, I feel, to have forgotten the feelings of my father
and mother as I did – because I know as certainly as I
know anything that if I could bring myself to ask them to
give up everything in the world ; they would do it and
cheerfully.
So see, and forgive your own
R.