2760. EBB to Mary Russell Mitford
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 180–184.
Florence.
Dec– 16– [1848] [1]
Yes, I had to wait for your letter, ever dearest Miss Mitford, and I should have written again if it had not come when it did; but it was still worse for me to observe by the tone of the whole as well as by the direct statement that your illness had been renewed so painfully. I do not fear danger, having heard a good deal of the particular affection in question,—but the torture & exhaustion are painful indeed to imagine in connection with your dear self. As a proof of weakness of constitution, .. of any impairing of the general health, .. you certainly must not regard it—as the persons whom I knew to be sufferers, & who both underwent operations in consequence of its being a permanent evil with them, were both young & strong, .. as is your own quoted instance of the “strong man”. Only you must take precautions in order to keep better, .. not walk too far, nor, sit too long—and the horizontal position is the safest & best, obviously– Why not accustom yourself to lie on the sofa & read & write? it’s a mere habit, and you are not the least more of an invalid for not sitting bolt upright, as I say to myself sometimes. My sisters (thank you for speaking so kindly of my dearest sisters) say in their letters that they did not find you as strong as usual [2] .. more’s the sadness! .. I do hope & trust that the next news from yourself will cheer me a little. It was very sad too for me to hear that you thought Miss Tripsack altered—you know she was the adopted daughter of my great grandfather (I think I told you that once) & the heart-to-heart friend & companion of my father’s mother .. & of equal age perhaps .. you will see that she must be far advanced in life, .. so that always I listen with great anxiety to observations of the kind made by you. My sisters had assured me, that I should find very little change in her, dear thing, .. that she could walk several miles still, & read (with spectacles) the small print of newspapers—still it is too likely that your remark is the just one, although she has no sort of malady, except a very slight tendency to rheumatism. I was glad at your seeming to like Capt. Cook, who is perfectly amiable & good, & for the rest the most constant of lovers– Would, that he had just a hundred a year more, to make this marriage a prudent possibility! As it is, there is nothing for it but to wait & wait. He wd accept anything, even if the acceptance forced him to leave the army—only a captain’s half pay is too slight a provision, Henrietta thinks, to venture upon. You will not of course speak of this affair, as it is a deep secret & I should not have dared to mention it even to you, if the word from you had not apprized me of your being behind the scenes. There wd be terrible storms, if it were known in Wimpole Street .. altho’ my brothers must know in their hearts, shutting their eyes from various motives to an obvious fact. All, painful, it is—& silence is best where remedy is unapproachable.
We have had our curtains put up & are looking quite comfortable, the fireplace yawning a blaze of pinewood. Yet I have not found it necessary to light a fire in my bedroom, & one blanket is quite enough up to this day. My husband is perfectly well, thank God, better than he has been for years, he says, in certain respects .. as in the power of eating & absence of headache. As for me, I am quite well too, .. &, so far, have not appeared to suffer from my fall. If really no harm has been done (as the learned are of decided opinion) it is all but miraculous, considering the circumstances. Did I tell you that Wilson was engaged (“promessa sposa”) [3] to marry one of the Grand Duke’s body-guards, a young man who has been most faithful in his attentions, is of excellent character, of respectable family & superior education, & has the promise of a good situation, clerkship or otherwise, in or about the palace? He swears never to interfere with her religion: & other points, notwithstanding the difference of country, strike me as entirely unobjectionable. She is charmed with Florence, & understands & makes herself understood with fluency, if not with correctness. Many English ladies’ maids have been “in request” here, & have settled with the happiest results, .. so that I feel the less anxiety for my dear, good Wilson. He said that “her principles & sentiments attracted him chiefly” .. which is a just homage, & creditable to both sides. I shall miss her much—only she will not go yet .. I even hope to take her to England next year, should we find the voyage possible, which on every account I do trust we may. Meanwhile you are wondering perhaps how we are so foolhardy as to keep on furnishing rooms in the midst of “anarchy”, .. the Pope, a fugitive, & the crowned heads, packing up. [4] Ah—but we have faith in the softness of our Florentines, who must be well spurred up to the leap before they do any harm!– These things look worse at a distance than they do near—although, seen far & near, nothing can be worse than the evidence of demoralization of people, governors, & journalists, in the sympathy given everywhere to the assassination of poor Rossi. If Rossi was retrocessive, he was at least a constitutional minister, & constitutional means of opposing him were open to all—but Italy understands nothing constitutional: liberty is a fair word, & a watchword,—nothing more: an idea, it is not, in the minds of any. The poor Pope, I deeply pity—he is a weak man, with the noblest & most disinterested intentions. His faithful flock have nearly broken his heart by the murder of his two personal friends, Rossi & Palma, [5] & the threat which they sent him by embassy, of murdering every man, woman & child in the Quirinal, “with the exception of his Holiness” unless he accepted their terms. He shd have gone out to them & so died,—but having missed that opportunity, nothing remained but flight– He was a mere Pope-hostage, as long as he stayed in Rome. Curious, the “intervention of the French,” so long desired by the Italians, & vouchsafed so! The Florentines open their eyes in mute astonishment, .. & some of them “wont read the journals any more”. The boldest say softly that the Romans are sure not to bear it!—— And what is to happen in France? Why, what a world we have just now! In the meantime, I am folding down little hems for tiney habiliments, & have bought the first thimble I have possessed since my childhood. That’s all the harm the world does to me! Also, Robert & I have been reading Constant’s memoires, [6] which you recommended long ago, and are reversing the thought of the French electors, .. in “l’oncle de son neveu”. [7] Father Prout is gone to Rome for a fortnight, has stayed three weeks, & day by day we expect him back again. I dont understand how the Prout papers [8] shd have hurt him ecclesiastically, but that he shd be known for their writer is not astonishing, as the secret was never, I believe, attempted to be kept. We have been, at least I have been, a little anxious lately about the fate of the “Blot on the ’scutcheon”, which Mr Phelps applied for my husband’s permission to revive at Saddler’s. Of course putting the request was a mere form, as he had every right to act the play, & there was nothing to answer but one thing. Only it made one anxious .. made me anxious .. till we heard the result—and we both of us are very grateful to dear Mr Chorley who not only made it his business to be at the theatre the first night, but, before he slept, sate down like a true friend to give us the story of the result—and never, he says, was a more complete & legitimate success. The play went straight to the heart of the audience, it seems—and we hear of its continuance on the stage, from the papers. So far, so well! You may remember or may not have heard, how Macready brought it out & put his foot on it, in the flash of a quarrel between manager & author; and Phelps knowing the whole secret & feeling the power of the play, determined on making a revival of it on his own theatre—which was wise as the event proves. Mr Chorley called his acting really “fine”. I see the second edition of the ‘poetical works’ advertised at last in the Athenæum, & conclude it to be coming out directly. [9] Also, my second edition is called for, only nothing is yet arranged on that point. We have had a most interesting letter from Mr Horne, giving terrible accounts, to be sure, of the submersion of all literature in England & France since the French revolution, but noble & instructive proof of individual wave-riding energy, such as I have always admired in him. He & his wife, he says, live chiefly on the produce of their garden, & keep a cheerful heart. For the rest, even the ‘Institutes’ expect gratuitous lectures [10] —so that the sweat of the brain seems less productive than the sweat of the brow. [11] I am glad that Mr Serjt Talfourd & his wife [12] spoke affectionately of my husband, for he is attached to both of them. How does Mrs Partridge get on with her new maternity? is she happy? and will Mrs Acton Tyndal bring out her book over the head of her little son? [13] Tell me everything of yourself, beloved friend, & whether the cold lets you take your drives as usual, & whether Mr Lovejoy comforts you in the old way with books, newspapers, & kind words. I hope K. did not take Ben’s marriage much to heart– [14] I had had my misgivings about his intentions through his not making more haste in his advances towards herself. Is her little boy [15] much with you,—& as great a favorite as ever? My Flush has grown to be passionately fond of grapes, .. devouring bunch after bunch, .. & looking so fat & well that we attribute some virtue to them. When he goes to England he will be as much in a straight as an Italian, who related to us his adventures in London—he had had a long walk in the heat, & catching sight of grapes hanging up in a grocer’s shop, he stopped short to have a penney worth’s, as he said œconomically to himself. Down he sate & made out a Tuscan luncheon in purple bunches. At last, taking out his purse to look for the halfpence … “Fifteen shillings, Sir, if you please,” said the shopman.–
Now do write soon, & speak particularly of your health—and take care of it & dont be too complaisant to visitors. May God bless you, my very dear friend. Think of me as ever your
affectionate & grateful
EBB–
My husband’s regards always.
Address, on integral page: Miss Mitford / Three Mile Cross / near Reading.
Publication: EBB-MRM, III, 258–263.
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Year provided by EBB’s references to the revival of A Blot in the ’Scutcheon.
2. On 7 October Henrietta, Arabella, and Miss Trepsack (who were staying in Fifield) and Surtees (who travelled from Taunton) met in Reading and visited Miss Mitford at Three Mile Cross (Surtees, 7 October 1848).
3. “Betrothed.”
4. See letter 2751, note 22.
5. Monsignor Palma, a papal prelate, was shot and killed on 16 November 1848 while standing at a window in the Quirinale Palace, the summer residence of the pope.
6. Mémoires de Constant, premier valet de chambre de l’empereur, sur la vie privée de Napoléon, sa famille et sa cour (1830) by Louis Constant Wairy.
7. “The uncle of his nephew,” or “his nephew’s uncle.” See letter 2757, note 7.
8. See letter 2749, note 3.
9. RB’s Poems (1849) was listed in “New Books” in the 16 December 1848 issue of The Athenæum, no. 1103, p. 1263.
10. Since the beginning of 1847, Horne had been without an income. In the autumn of that year he had given lectures on the Irish question “at the Aldersgate Literary and Scientific Institute and again at Brighton and Greenwich, and … a few months later Horne lectured on Italy for the People’s International League” (Ann Blainey, The Farthing Poet, 1968, p. 171).
11. Cf. Genesis 3:19.
12. Rachel Talfourd (1793–1875), eldest daughter of John Towill Rutt and his wife Rachel (née Pattison) had married Thomas Noon Talfourd on 31 August 1822.
13. Nicolas Tindal (later, 1878, Tindal-Carill-Worsley) was born on 5 January 1848.
14. Benjamin Embery and Mary Ann Martin were married on 24 October 1848 at St. Mary’s Church, Paddington.
15. James Henry Taylor; see letter 2718, note 19.
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