[Postmark: August 31, 1846]
ED
I have just come from the vestry of Paddington chapel, and bore it very well, and saw nobody except one woman. Arabel went with me, and during the singing we escaped and stood outside the door. Now, that is over ; and the next time I shall care less. It was a rambling sermon, which I could hear distinctly through the open door, quite wanting in coherence, but with good and touching things in it, the more touching that they came from a preacher whose life is known to us – from Mr. Stratten, for whom I have the greatest respect, though he never looked into Shakespeare till he was fifty, and shut the book quickly, perhaps, afterward. He is the very ideal of his class ; and, with some of the narrow views peculiar to it, has a heart of miraculous breadth and depth ; loving further than he can see, pitying beyond what he can approve, having in him a divine Christian spirit, the ‘ love of love ‘ in the most expansive form. How that man is beloved by his congregation, the members of his church, by his children, his friends, is wonderful to see – for everybody seems to love him from afar, as a man is loved who is of a purer nature than others. There is that reverence in the love – and yet no fear. His children have been encouraged and instructed to speak aloud before him on religion and other subjects in all freedom of conscience – he turns to his little daughter seriously ‘to hear what she thinks.’ The other day his eldest son, whom he had hoped to see succeed him at Paddington, determined to enter the Church of England : his wife became quite ill with grief about it, and to himself perhaps it was a trial, a disappointment. With the utmost gentleness and tenderness however, he desired him to take time for thought and act according to his conscience. – I believe for my part that there never was a holier man . . ‘ except those bonds ‘ . . never a man who more resolutely trod under his feet every form of evil and selfish passion when it was once recognized – and looked to God and the Truth with a direct aspiration. Once I could not help writing to put our affairs into his hands to settle them for us – but that would be wrong – because Papa would forbid Arabel’s going to the chapel or communicating with his family, and it would be depriving her of a comfort she holds dear – oh no. And besides, you are wise in taking the other view.
Think of our waiting day after day to fall into the net so, yesterday ! How I was provoked and vexed – but more for you, dearest dearest, than for me – much more for you. As for me I saw you, which was joy enough, let the hours be ever so clipped of their natural proportions – and then, youknow, you were obliged to go soon, whether Mr. Kenyon had come or not come. After you were gone, nothing was said, and nothing asked, and it is delightful to have heard of those intended absences one after another till far into October : which will secure us from future embarrassments. See if he means to put us to the question ! – not such a thing is in his thoughts.
And I said what you ‘ would not have believed of me ‘ ! Have you forgiven me, beloved – for saying what you would not have believed of me, – understanding that I did not mean it very seriously, though I proved to be capable of saying it ? Seriously, I don’t want to make unnecessary delays. It is a horrible position, however I may cover it with your roses and the thoughts of you – and far worse to myself than to you, inasmuch that what is painful to you once a week, is to me so continually. To hear the voice of my father and meet his eye makes me shrink back – to talk to my brothers leaves my nerves all trembling . . and even to receive the sympathy of my sisters turns into sorrow and fear, lest they should suffer through their affection for me. How I can look and sleep as well as I do, is a miracle exactly like the rest – or would be, if the love were not the deepest and strongest thing of all, and did not hold and possess me overcomingly. I feel myself to be yours notwithstanding every other influence, and being yours, cannot but be happy by you. Ah – let people talk as they please of the happiness of early youth ! Mrs. Jameson did, the other day, when she wished kindly to take her young niece with her to the Continent, that she might enjoy what in a few years she could not so much enjoy. There is a sort of blind joy common perhaps to such times – a blind joy which blunts itself with its own leaps and bounds ; peculiar to a time of comparative ignorance and inexperience of evil : – but I for my part, with all the capacity for happiness which I had from the beginning, I look back and listen to my whole life, and feel sure of what I have already told you, . . that I am happier now than I ever was before . . infinitely happier now, through you . . infinitely happier ; even now in this position I have just called ‘ horrible.’ When I hear you say for instance, that you ‘ love me perceptibly more ‘ . . why I cannot, cannot be more happy than when I hear you say that – going to Italy seems nothing ! a vulgar walk to Primrose Hill after being caught up to the third Heaven ! I think nothing of Italy now, though I shall enjoy it of course when the time comes. I think only that you love me, that you are the angel of my life, – and for the despair and desolation behind me, they serve to mark the hour of your coming, – and they are behind, as Italy is before. Never can you feel for me, Robert, as I feel for you . . it is not possible of course. I am yours in a way and degree which the tenderest of other women could not be at her will. Which you know. Why should I repeat it to you ? Why, except that is a reason to prove that we cannot, as you say, ‘ ever be a common wife and husband.’ But I don’t think I was intending to give proofs of that –no, indeed.
To-morrow I shall hear from you. Say how your mother is, in the second letter if you do not in the first. May God bless you and keep you, dearest beloved –
Your very own BA.
There is not much in the article by Mr. Chorley, but it is right and kind as far as it goes.