[Postmark: June 19, 1846]
Thursday Evening.
But I have not been to Mr. Rogers’s to-day, after all. I
had a note from Mrs. Jameson, to put off our excursion to
Saturday . . if I consented to Saturday ! but of course I
would not consent to Saturday – and as she intimated that
another day would do as well, we shall have another day
fixed, I suppose. What a good fruit it would be of the con-
fession I made in the park, if she were to ask you to go ! ! !
Oh, I should like that – I should like it notwithstanding the
drawbacks. It would be a fair gain upon the usual times of
meeting – only that I could not care quite as much for the
pictures – yet, those too, I should like to see with you, rather
than apart from you. And you never saw them . . you ! Is
there a hope of her asking you when you are at Greenwich
together ? Now I have got this into my head, it will not go
out again – oh, you must try and enchant her properly at
Greenwich and lead her into asking you. Yet, with you or
without you in the body, the spirit of you and the influence
of you are always close to my spirit when it discerns any
beauty or feels any joy ; if I am happy on any day it is
through you wholly, whether you are absent or present,
dearest, and ever dearest !
And so, instead of Mr. Rogers’s pictures, I have been
seeing you in my thoughts, as I sate here all alone to-day.
When everybody was at dinner I remembered that I had
not been out – it was nearly eight . . there was no com-
panion for me unless I called one from the dinner-table ;
and Wilson, whom I thought of, had taken holiday. There-
fore I put on my bonnet, as a knight of old took his sword,
– aspiring to the pure heroic, – and called Flush, and
walked down-stairs and into the street, all alone – that was
something great ! And, with just Flush, I walked there, up
and down in glorious independence. Belgium might have
felt so in casting off the yoke. As to Flush, he frightened
me a little and spoilt my vain-glory – for Flush has a very
good, stout vain-glory of his own, and, although perfectly
fond of me, has no idea whatever of being ruled over by
me ! (he looks beautiful scorn out of his golden eyes, when
I order him to do this or this) . . and Flush chose to walk
on the opposite side of the street, – he would, – he insisted
on it ! and every moment I expected him to disappear into
some bag of the dogstealers, as an end to his glory, à lui.
Happily, however, I have no moral with which to point my
tale – it’s a very immoral story, and shows neither Flush nor
myself punished for our sins. Often, I am not punished
for my sins, . . am I ? You know that . . dearest, dearest !
But then, even you are not punished for your sins . . .
when you flatter so ! Ah, it is happy for you, and for your
reputation in good taste and sense, that you cannot very
well say such things except to me, who cannot believe them.
For the rest, the eyes were certainly blinded, . . being kissed
too hard.
How I like Mrs. Carlyle’s note ! You will go of course.
But it will not rain to-morrow, and you shall not have the
advantage of coming through it to me, . . for this reason
(among others far better), that I have engaged to see, at
three or four perhaps, a friend of ours from the country. She
is in London for only two days and wrote to beg me to see
her, and to-day I escaped by half a rudeness, and, if I do
to-morrow, it will be by a whole rudeness. So, not to-morrow !
And, if Saturday should be taken from us, we must find
three days somehow next week – it will be easily done.
As to Florence, the flood of English is the worst water
of all in the argument. And then Dr. Chambers ‘ warned
me off’ Florence, as being too cold for the winter. It would
be as well not to begin by being ill ; and half I am afraid of
Ravenna – though Ravenna may not be cold, and though
Shelley may belie it altogether. ‘A miserable place’ he
calls it in the ‘ Letters.’ Still I observe that his first impres-
sions are apt to be darker than remain. For instance, he
began by hating Pisa, and preferred it to most places, after-
wards. There is Pisa by the way ! Or your Sorrento . .
Salerno . . Amalfi . . you shall consider if you please – find
a new place if you like.
It is my last letter perhaps till I see you. May God bless
you, I lift up my heart to say. How happy I ought to be, . .
and am, . . with your thoughts all round me, so, as you
describe ! Let them call me your very own
BA.
