Author: RB

[Postmark: September 18, 1846]

11½ Friday.

My own best Ba. How thankful I am you have seen
my blunder—I took the other company’s days for the South
Western’s changed. What I shall write now is with the
tables before me (of the Railway) and a transcript from to-day’s
advertisement in the Times.

The packet will leave to-morrow evening, from the
Royal Pier, Southampton at nine. We leave Nine Elms,
Vauxhall, at five—to arrive at eight. Doors close five
minutes before. I will be at Hodgson’s from half-past three
to four precisely when I shall hope you can be ready. I shall
go to Vauxhall, apprise them that luggage is coming (yours)
and send mine there—so that we both shall be unencumbered
and we can take a cab or coach from H’s.

Never mind your scanty preparations . . we can get
everything at Leghorn,—and the new boats carry parcels to
Leghorn on the i5th of every month, remember—so can
bring what you may wish to send for.

I enclose a letter to go with yours. The cards as you
choose—they are here—we can write about them from
Paris or elsewhere. The advertisement, as you advise.
All shall be cared for.

God bless and strengthen you, my ever dearest dearest
—I will not trust myself to speak of my feelings for you—
worship well belongs to such fortitude. One struggle more
—if all the kindness on your part brought a strangely in-
sufficient return, is it not possible that this step may
produce all you can hope ? Write to me one word more.
Depend on me. I go to Town about business.

Your own, own R.

[Postmark: September 18, 1846]

7½ – Thursday

My own Ba – forgive my mistaking ! I had not enough confidence in my own correctness. The advertisement of the Tuesday and Friday Boats is of the South of England Steam Company. The Wednesday and Saturday is that of the South Western. There must be then two companies, because on the Southampton Railway Bill it is expressly stated that there are departures for Havre on all four days. Perhaps you have seen my blunder. In that case, you can leave by 1-/2½ as you may appoint –

Your R.

[Postmark: September 17, 1846]

5 o’clock.

My own Ba, I believe, or am sure the mistake has been mine – in the flurry I noted down the departures from Havre – instead of Southampton. You must either be at the Vauxhall Station by four o’clock – so as to arrive in 3 hours and a half at Southampton and leave by 8¼ P.M. – or must go by the Sunday Boat, – or wait till Tuesday. Dieppe is impossible, being too early. You must decide – and let me know directly. To-morrow is too early – yet one . . that is, I – could manage.

Ever your own, in all haste

R. B.

[Postmark: September 17, 1846]

My only sweetest, I will write just a word to catch the earlier post, – time pressing. Bless you for all you suffer . . I know it though it would be very needless to call your attention to the difficulties. I know much, if not all, and can only love and admire you, – not help, alas !

Surely these difficulties will multiply, if you go to Bookham – the way will be to leave at once. The letters may easily be written during the journey . . at Orléans, for example. But now, – you propose Saturday . . nothing leaves Southampton according to to-day’s advertisement, till Tuesday . . the days seemed changed to Tuesdays and Fridays. To-morrow at 8¼ P.M. and Friday the 22, 10¼. Provoking ! I will go to town directly to the railway office and enquire particularly – getting the time-table also. Under these circumstances, we have only the choice of Dieppe (as needing the shortest diligence-journey) – or the Sunday morning Havre-packet, at 9 A.M. – which you do not consider practicable : though it would, I think, take us the quickliest out of all the trouble. I will let you know all particulars in a note to-night . . it shall reach you to-night.

If we went from London only, the luggage could be sent here or in any case, perhaps . . as one fly will carry them with me and mine, and save possibility of delay.

I am very well, dearest dearest – my mother no worse, better, perhaps – she is out now. Our staying and getting into trouble would increase her malady.

As you leave it to me, – the name, and ‘ Wimpole St.’ will do. Jamaica sounds in the wrong direction, does it not ? and the other place is distinctive enough.

Take no desk . . I will take a large one – take nothing you can leave – but secure letters &c. I will take out a passport. Did you not tell me roughly at how much you estimated our expenses for the journey ? Because I will take about that much, and get Rothschild’s letter of credit for Leghorn. One should avoid carrying money about with one.

All this in such haste ! Bless you, my dearest dearest Ba

Your R.

All was right in the licence, and Certificate and Register – the whole name is there, E.B.M.B. The clergyman made the mistake in not having the two names, but all runs right to read . . the essential thing.

[Postmark: September 16, 1846]

Wednesday.

Ever dearest, you are right about the date . . so it shall be – and so the advertisement shall run, save and except the avowal of ‘ Paracelsus ‘ . . I avow you, and to add another title of honour would succeed no better than in Dalhousie’s case, who was ‘ God of War and Lieutenant-general to the Earl of Mar.’ I wanted the description &c. of your father. What a strange mistake I made – (but as for invalidation, oh no !) – I save your every word and then apply them thus ! (In to-day’s Times is a notice without a date . . not looking at all singular. It is far better).

It is absolutely for yourself to decide on the day and the mode – if for no other reason, because I am quite ready, and shall have no kind of difficulty ; while you have every kind. Make the arrangements that promise most comfort to yourself. Observe the packets and alter the route if necessary. There is one from Brighton to Dieppe every day, for instance . . but then the getting to Rouen ! The Havre-boat leaves Southampton, Wednesdays and Saturdays – and Portsmouth, Mondays and Thursdays. The boat from London, Thursdays and Saturdays at 9 A.M.

I do not know where ‘ Bookham ‘ is – you must decide . . I am sure you will be anxious to get away. .

The business of the letters will grow less difficult when once begun – see if it will not ! and in these four or five days whole epics might be written, much more letters. Have you arranged all with Wilson ? Take, of course, the simplest possible wardrobe &c. – so as to reduce our luggage to the very narrowest compass. The expense – (beside the common sense of a little luggage) – is considerable – every ounce being paid for. Let us treat our journey as a mere journey – we can return for what else we want, or get it sent, or procure it abroad. I shall take just a portmanteau and carpet bag. I think the fewer books we take the better ; they take up room – and the wise way always seemed to me to read in rooms at home, and open one’s eyes and see abroad. A critic somewhere mentioned that as my characteristic – were two other poets he named placed in novel circumstances . . in a great wood, for instance, Mr. Trench would begin opening books to see how woods were treated of . . the other man would set to writing poetry forthwith, from his old stock of associations, on the new impulse – and R. B. would sit still and learn how to write after ! A pretty compliment, I thought that ! – But seriously there must be a great library at Pisa . . (with that university !) and abroad they are delighted to facilitate such matters . . I have read in a chamber of the Doges’ palace at Venice painted all over by Tintoretto, walls and ceiling – and at Rome there is a library with a learned priest always kept ready ‘ to solve any doubt that may arise ! ‘ Murray’s book you have, I think ? Any guide-books &c.

Be sure, dearest, I will do my utmost to conciliate your father : sometimes I could not but speak impatiently to you of him . . that was while you were in his direct power – now there is no need of a word in any case . . I shall be silent if the worst imaginable happens ; and if anything better, most grateful. You do not need to remind me he is your father . . I shall be proud to say mine too. Then, he said that of you – for which I love him – love the full prompt justice of that ascription of ‘ perfect purity ‘ – it is another voice responding to mine, confirming mine.

Good-bye, dearest dearest ; I continue quite well . . I thank God, as you do, and see his hand in it. My poor mother suffers greatly, but is no worse . . rather, better I hope. They (all here) will leave town for some quiet place at the beginning of October for some three weeks at least. Dear, kind souls they are.

Kiss me as I kiss you, dearest Ba. I can bring you no flowers but I pluck this bud and send it with all affectionate devotion.

Your own

R. B.

[Postmark: September 15, 1846]

Tuesday Morning,

My own Ba, could you think me capable of such a step ? I forget what I exactly said in the first letter, but in the second, which you have received by this, I know there is mention made of your account which is to accompany mine. You never quite understood, I think, my feeling about Mr. Kenyon and desire to tell him earlier. In the first place, at the very beginning, he seemed to stand (as he did) in closer connection with you than any other person I could communicate with, – therefore to represent, in some degree, your dear self in the worldly sense, and be able to impose on me any conditions &c. which your generous nature might be silent on, and my ignorance and excitement overlook : then there was another reason, the natural one, of our own . . his friendship, rather, for me, and the circumstance of his having in a manner introduced me to your acquaintance, – at all events, facilitated my introduction, – and so being after a fashion responsible in some degree for my conduct. These two reasons, added to a general real respect for his circumspection and sagacity, and a desire to make both of them instruct me in the way of doing you good. But you effectually convinced me that in neither case would the benefit derivable balance the certain injury, or at least, annoyance, to himself – while you showed me that I should not be so truly serving you, as I had intended, by the plans I used to turn over in my mind.

In brief, it was written that your proof of love and trust to me was to be complete, the completest – and I could not but be proud and submit – and a few words will explain the mere sin against friendship. I quite, quite feel as you feel, nor ever had the least intention of writing . . that is, of sending any letter, – till the very last. Be sure of it.

For the cards, I have just given orders, as you desire and as I entirely agree. The notion of a word about our not being in England was only a fancy for your family’s sake – just to save people’s application to them, to know what had become of us – and I had heard Mr. Kenyon commend the considerateness of those ‘ Lydian measures ‘ . . albeit there was . . or narrowly escaped being – an awful oversight of the traveller’s which would have made him the sad hero of a merry story for ever . . as I will tell you someday. If you will send the addresses, at any time, that trouble will be over. In all these mighty matters, be sure I shall never take the least step without consulting you – will you draw up the advertisement, please ? I will supply the clergyman’s name &c. &c.

I shall not see one friend more before I leave with you. So that nobody needs divine that since the 12th, we have not been at Margate – seeking ‘food for the mind’ –

11¾ A.M.

Dearest, I agree to all – I will not see you, for those reasons. I think, as you may, that it will be a point in excuse of the precipitancy that a removal was threatened for ‘ next Monday perhaps ‘ . . which, finding us unprepared, would have been ruinous. Say all you would have me say to your father, – no concession shall be felt by the side of your love. I will write a few words to Mrs. J. – her kindness is admirable and deserves the attention. For the date, – you will have seen the precautions I take, – I hope to see nobody now ; but I don’t know that it will be necessary to suppress it in the advertisement, if we can leave England by the end of the week, as I hope . . do you not hope, too? For I see announcements, in to-day’s Times, of marriages on the 8th and 9th and our silence on that particular might be only the beginning of some mystery . . as if it had happened half a year ago, for instance. Beside, your relations will examine the register. All rests with you, however – and will rest, Ba ! I shall ask you to do no more of my business that I can manage myself but where I can not manage . . why, then you shall think for me, – that is my command !

I suppose when a man buys a spinning-machine he loses dignity because he lets it weave stockings, – does not keep on with his clumsy fingers ! No, I will retain my honours, be certain, – you shall say, Ego et rex meus like Wolsey – or rather, like dear, dear Ba – like yourself I will ever worship ! See the good of taking up arms against me out of that service ! If you ‘ honour and obey ‘ me, ‘ with my body I thee worship ‘ – my best, dearest, sweetest Ba, and that I have avowed thus ‘ irrevocably ‘ – is the heart’s delight of your own R.

[Postmark: September 14, 1846]

Monday Morning.

You go on to comfort me, love – bless you for it. I collect from the letter that you are recovering from the pain and excitement ; that is happy ! I waited to hear from you, my own Ba, and will only write a word – then go out – think.

Do you feel so, through the anxieties and trouble of this situation ? You take my words from me – I ‘ exult ‘ in the irrevocability of this precious bestowal of yourself on me – come what will my life has borne flower and fruit – it is a glorious, successful, felicitous life, I thank God and you.

All has been for the best, you will see, even in these apparently untoward circumstances – this particular act was precipitated by them, certainly – but it is done, and well done. Does it not simplify our arrangements that this is done ? And surely there was every justification for the precipitancy in that proposed journey, and uncertain return, – (in Winter to a freshly-painted house !) But every moment of my life brings fresh proof to me of the intervention of Providence. How the natural course would have embarrassed us ! – any consultation with you respecting your own feelings on a removal at present – any desire to gratify them . .

Will not Mr. Kenyon understand at least ? Would it not be well to ascertain his precise address in the country, – so as to send your letter there, before the newspaper reaches him, – or any other person’s version ? I will send you my letter to accompany yours – just a few words to explain why he was not consulted – (by me) . . what is strictly my own part to be excused. What do you intend to do about Mrs. Jameson? I only want to know in the case of our mutual friends, of course, so as to avoid the necessity of going over the same ground in our letters.

I confided my approaching marriage to that kind old Pritchard, lest he should be too much wounded – if his surprise was considerable, his delight kept due proportion. You may depend on his secrecy – I need not say, I mentioned the fact simply . . without a word about any circumstances. If your father could be brought to allow the matter to pass as indifferent to him . . what he did not chose to interfere with, however little he approved it, – we should be fortunate ? Perhaps pride, if no kinder feeling, may induce him to that.

My family all love you, dearest – you cannot conceive my father and mother’s childlike faith in goodness – and my sister is very high-spirited, and quick of apprehension – so as to seize the true point of the case at once. I am in great hopes you will love them all, and understand them. Last night, I asked my father, who was absorbed over some old book, ‘ if he should not be glad to see his new daughter ? ‘ – to which he, starting, replied ‘ Indeed I shall ! ‘ with such a fervour as to make my mother laugh – not abated by his adding, ‘And how I should be glad of her seeing Sis ! ‘ his other daughter, Sarianna, to wit – who was at church.

Trifles, trifles, only commended to your dear, affectionate heart. Do you confide in me, Ba ? Well, you shall ! – in my love, in my pride, in my heart’s purposes ; but not in anything else. Give me your counsel at all times, beloved : I am wholly open to your desires, and teaching, and direction. Try what you can make of me, – if you can in any way justify your choice to the world. So I would gladly counsel you on any point ! See how I read lectures about Flush ! Only give a kiss before beginning, and promise me another upon my profiting, – and I shall be twice blessed beside the profit. So, my counsel being done, here begin the kisses, you dear dear Ba of mine. Bless you ever, Ba ! I continue quite well – is it not strange . . or is it ? And my mother is better decidedly. When she comes back from town (where she and my sister are caring for me) I will tell her what you bade me promise to give her – in return for what she has long given you. Good-bye, my own – very own Ba, from your R.

[Postmark: September 14, 1846]

Sunday Afternoon.

Thank you a thousand times for the note, my own Ba. I welcomed it as I never yet welcomed even your notes ; entirely kind to write, and write so ! Oh, I know the effort you made, the pain you bore for my sake ! I tell you, once and for ever, your proof of love to me is made . . I know love, my dearest dearest : my whole life shall be spent in trying to furnish such a proof of my affection ; such a perfect proof, – and perhaps vainly spent – but I will endeavour with God’s help. Do you feel what I mean, dearest ? How you have dared and done all this, under my very eyes, for my only sake ? I believed you would be capable of it – what then? What is a belief? My own eyes have seen – my heart will remember !

Dearest, nothing needs much trouble you farther : take your own time and opportunity. I confide in your judgment – (for I am not going to profess confidence in you !) – I am sure you will see and act for the best. My preparations are made ; I have only to await your desires. I will not ask to see you, for instance – though of course a word brings me as usual to you – your will is altogether my will.

The first obvious advantage of our present relation, I will take. You are mine – your generosity has given to me my utmost claim upon your family – so far as I am concerned, putting aside my sympathy with you, there is nothing more they can give me : so, I will say, perhaps a little less reservedly than I could have brought myself to say before, that there is no conceivable submission I will refuse, nor possible satisfaction I will hesitate to make to those feelings I have been forced to offend, if by any means I may preserve, for you, so much of their affection as you have been accustomed to receive ; I do not require anything beyond toleration for myself . . I will cheerfully accept as the truest kindness to me, a continuance of kindness to you. You know what I would have done to possess you : – now that I do possess you, I renew the offer to you . . judge with what earnest purpose of keeping my word ! I do not think . . nor do you think . . that any personal application, directly or by letter, would do any good – it might rather add to the irritation we apprehend : but my consent is given beforehand to any measure you shall ever consider proper. And your father may be sure that while I adore his daughter it will be impossible for me, under any circumstances, to be wanting in the utmost respect for, and observance of, himself. Understand, with the rest, why I write this, Ba. To your brothers and sisters I am bound for ever, – by every tie of gratitude : they may acquiesce more easily . . comprehending more, perhaps, of the dear treasure you are, they will forgive my ambition of gaining it. I will write to Mr. Kenyon. You will probably have time to write all the letters requisite.

Do not trouble yourself with more than is strictly necessary – you can supply all wants at Leghorn or Pisa. Let us be as unencumbered with luggage as possible.

What is your opinion about the advertisements? If our journey is delayed for a few days, we had better omit the date, I think. And the cards ? I will get them engraved if you will direct me. The simplest form of course : – and the last (or among the last) happens to be also the simplest, consisting merely of the words ‘ Mr. and Mrs. R. B.’ on one card – with the usual ‘ at home ‘ in a corner. How shall we manage that, by the way ? Could we put ‘ In Italy for a year?’ There is precedent for it – Sir – Fellows’ (what is the traveller’s name?) – his were thus subscribed. By which means we should avoid telling people absolutely, that they need never come and see us. Choose your own fashion, my Ba, and tell me how many you require.

I only saw my cousin for a few minutes afterward – he came up in a cab immediately – he understood all there was need he should. You to be ‘ uncourteous ‘ to anybody ! no, no – sweetest ! But I will thank him as you bid, knowing the value of Ba’s thanks ! For the prying penny-a-liners . . why, trust to Providence – we must ! I do not apprehend much danger . .

Dearest, I woke this morning quite well – quite free from the sensation in the head. I have not woke so, for two years perhaps – what have you been doing to me ?

My father and mother and sister love you thoroughly – my mother said this morning, in my room, ‘ If I were as I have been, I would try and write to her ‘ – I said, ‘ I will tell her what I know you feel.’ She is much better – (I hear her voice while I write . . below the open window). Poor Pritchard came home from the country on Friday night – late – and posted here immediately – he was vexed to be made understand that there was some way in which he might have served me and did not. It was kind, very kind of Wilson.

I will leave off – to resume to-morrow. Bless you, my very own, only Ba – my pride, and joy, and utter comfort. I kiss you and am ever your own.

[Postmark: September 12, 1846]

1 p.m. Saturday.

You will only expect a few words – what will those be ? When the heart is full it may run over, but the real fulness stays within.

You asked me yesterday ‘ if I should repent ? ‘ Yes – my own Ba, – I could wish all the past were to do over again, that in it I might somewhat more, – never so little more, conform in the outward homage to the inward feeling. What I have professed . . (for I have performed nothing) seems to fall short of what my first love required even – and when I think of this moment’s love . . I could repent, as I say.

Words can never tell you, however, – form them, transform them anyway, – how perfectly dear you are to me – perfectly dear to my heart and soul.

I look back, and in every one point, every word and gesture, every letter, every silence – you have been entirely perfect to me – I would not change one word, one look.

My hope and aim are to preserve this love, not to fall from it – for which I trust to God who procured it for me, and doubtlessly can preserve it.

Enough now, my dearest, dearest, own Ba ! You have given me the highest, completest proof of love that ever one human being gave another. I am all gratitude – and all pride (under the proper feeling which ascribes pride to the right source) all pride that my life has been so crowned by you.

God bless you prays your very own R.

I will write to-morrow of course. Take every care of my life which is in that dearest little hand ; try and be composed, my beloved.

Remember to thank Wilson for me.

[Postmark: September 10, 1846]

4 p.m. Thursday.

I broke open your sealed letter and added the postscript just now. The post being thus saved, I can say a few words more leisurely.

I will go to-morrow, I think, and not to-day for the licence – there are fixed hours I fancy at the office – and I might be too late. I will also make the arrangement with my friend for Saturday, if we should want him, – as we shall, in all probability – it would look suspiciously to be unaccompanied. We can arrange to-morrow.

Your words, first and last, have been that you ‘ would not fail me ‘ – you will not.

And the marriage over, you can take advantage of circumstances and go early or late in the week, as may be practicable. There will be facilities in the general packing &c., – your own measures may be taken unobserved. Write short notes to the proper persons, – promising longer ones, if necessary.

See the tone I take, the way I write to you . , but it is all through you, in the little brief authority you give me, – and in the perfect belief of your truth and firmness – indeed, I do not consider this an extraordinary occasion for proving those qualities – this conduct of your father’s is quite characteristic.

Otherwise, too, the departure with its bustle is not unfavourable. If you hesitated, it would be before a little hurried shopping and letter-writing ! I expected it, and therefore spoke as you heard yesterday. Now your part must begin. It may as well begin and end, both, now as at any other time. I will bring you every information possible to-morrow.

It seems as if I should insult you if I spoke a word to confirm you, to beseech you, to relieve you from your promise, if you claim it.

God bless you, prays your own R.