Now I am going out in the carriage, and shall drive round the park perhaps. You will not think much of the music—but it being the first music I had heard for years and years, and in itself so overwhelmingly melancholy, it affected me so that I should scarcely hear it to the end. I went down-stairs on purpose to hear it and be able to thank the composer rightly. But she has done better things, I am sure.
Your own
Ba.
Observe—I disobey in nothing by sending this parcel. There is too much for you to carry. Don’t forget to bring me my Statesmen which is a lawful burden.
R.B. to E.B.B.
Friday.
[Post-mark, May 22, 1846.]
I have a great mind to retract ... I do retract altogether whatever I said the other day in explanation of Miss Heaton’s story. I make no doubt, now, it was a pure dream to which my over-scrupulousness of conscience gave a local habitation and name both, through the favourable dimness and illusion of ‘a good many years ago’—because this last charge about ‘Miss Campbell’—briefly—I never in my life saw, to my knowledge, a woman of that name—nor can there be any woman of any other name from my acquaintance with whom the merest misunderstanding in the world could possibly arise to a third person ... I mean, that it must be a simple falsehood and not gossip or distortion of fact, as I supposed in the other case. I told you of the one instance where such distortion might take place,—(Miss Haworth, to avoid mistake). This charge after the other ... I will tell you of what it reminds me—in my early boyhood I had a habit of calling people ‘fools,’ with as little reverence as could be, ... and it used to be solemnly represented to me after such offences that ‘whoso calleth his brother “fool,” is in danger &c. for he hath committed murder in his heart already’ &c. in short,—there was no help for it,—I stood there a convicted murderer ... to which I was forced penitently to agree.... Here is Miss Heaton’s charge and my confession. Now, let a policeman come here presently to ask what I know about the ‘Deptford Murder’ or the ‘Marshalsea Massacre’—and you will have my ‘intimate friend’s’ charge. By the way, did your brother overhear this, or was it spoken to someone in his company, or is my friend his acquaintance also? Because in either of the latter cases I can interfere easily. (There is a Mr. Browning—Henry I think—living in, or near the Regent’s Park.) At all events, please say that I know no such person, nor ever knew,—that the whole is a pure falsehood—(and I only use so mild a word because I write to you, and because on reading the letter again I see the speakers were women).
It is a fact that I have made myself almost ridiculous by a kind of male prudery with respect to ‘young ladies’ ... that I have seemed to imply—‘If I gave you the least encouragement something would be sure to follow.’ In fact never seeing any attractiveness in the class, I was very little inclined to get involved in troubles and troubles for nothing at all. And as for marrying ... that is a point on which I have certainly not chosen to dilate before you, nor shall I now dilate on it.
Well, I shall see you to-morrow, that remedies everything. And that is your way of letting me see the Review,—you send it! Not that it has arrived yet. Dear Ba, how ever good you are!
All about the lady enthusiasts makes me laugh—don’t think I fail of the proper respect to them, however—it is only once in a week that one sees a real painted Emperor settle on a flower, and then perhaps for a few minutes—while at all times, if you look, you will find a good half dozen of earnest yet sleepy drones living there, working away at the sweet,—after all, these get the most out of the flower.