Correspondence

2927.  EBB to Mary Russell Mitford

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 71–73.

Paris.

July 9. [1851] [1]

It grieves me, my much loved friend, to have this sad account of your health. Oh, that house, that house! How very wrong, how very melancholy for all of us, that you should have been permitted to stay on in such a house, from which you had already suffered.– But the evil being done, we must face it, & think of overcoming what we can of it. My dear friend, if “Mr May is puzzled”, do take some other advice, & you will have an opportunity, in going to London. Do take some other advice, & without delay. Observe, that rheumatic affections which develop themselves in swelling, wont admit of the parts being touched—they are nearly as susceptible in that respect, as gout itself is .. that, I know, from having seen rheumatic invalids. Now your swelling, if it arises from weakness, & is in any way, lymphatic, should be stopped at once: there are specific remedies, & nothing is easier, nothing more frequent, than a cure of such symptoms:—only you should not let them get on too fast .. you should apply the right medicines at once. Do you believe at all in homœopathy? Because, the general health is often much lifted up & re-invigorated by means of that kind .. which I dont trust in, mind, against a set-in disease, but which I have observed to answer with persons suffering from chronic indisposition & general weakness. It’s something to consider. At any rate, do take other advice. When a medical man is ‘puzzled,’ there’s an end, of course, of one’s faith in him. And I am confident, from what you say, that you require medical help at once– I beseech you, for love’s sake, not to delay. Damp houses produce various bad effects, & the swelling of the feet & legs may be merely symptomatic—but in any case it should be stopped, I feel sure. Mind what I say, dear dear friend, because though I am undeniably ignorant, I have an instinct of love which is worth attending to. So, mind me.

I did not get your letter till two days ago, because it went to Lucerne & followed our course to Paris. Are’nt you surprised to find that we are at Paris .. Paris? We are in a quiet, cheap, & central hotel, & are looking about us at leisure for apartments. I had had a strong fancy for staying in Switzerland, the mountains & lakes fascinating me, & no dream of the poets being beyond their truth in glory. But a necessity was on us not to linger, & we left Lucerne after two days, & reached Paris by Strasburg. The journey from Venice was enchanting. We did pilgrimage to Arqua & the little room Petrarch died in—we passed Brescia by moonlight, & spent a day or two at Milan with the wonderful Cathedral & the Da Vinci Christ. We slept at Como, steamed down the lake to Cadenabbia, took a caleche from Menaggio to Porlezza, & a boat to Lugano .. went to Bellinzona & left Baby, while we returned on our steps, & skimmed the Lago Maggiore down & up again. Lovely lakes all of them,—but, we Italians are forced to confess, exceeded by Lucerne! From Bellinzona we passed the St Gothard, dropping down into Switzerland. The whole scenery by water & land is most exquisite .. ravishingly beautiful—but of the great pass, it’s impossible to speak– I never saw the sublime before. Such a hell of snow! The earth growing frantic with cold & shaking her black tusks bare. Terrible, wonderful, that sight is,—& I thank God for having seen it–

As to Paris, I feel as if dropped suddenly into a new brilliant world. A splendid city indeed, & wrapt round & round & twisted in & out with gardens .. bright green trees everywhere,—and the shops & the restaurants set out as for a fair—nothing can be more brilliant. The false teeth in glass cases at nearly every corner of a street, grin sarcastically at all this pomp, & turn me a little cold sometimes– I hope M. le president is more used to them. We met him on the boulevards the day before yesterday, in a cocked hat & retinue of cavalry, driving like lightning, but not too fast to escape a yell from one or two of the Red, who were forthwith taken up & muzzled. By the way, they oblige us to muzzle Flush, or they wont let him go out. That’s what I most deprecate in Paris .. next to the horrible visions of false teeth!—— I assure you, those teeth grin at you from the corners, till it’s quite a nuisance. For the rest, I am amused all day long. Never was a woman proof to Paris,—now, was there?

So, your English people has given up the Italians—“does’nt care” for them, .. because of their want of originality in art .. among other reasons. That’s really good of the English people, considering everything. The Irish members (in the English parliament) will be despising somebody next, for want of conduct & unity of purpose. Poor, poor Italy! Not dead yet, no—let her be ever so despised & scorned & forgotten. The comfort is, that what she wants, she must gain for herself .. and will. We shall all see, if we live. Oh, I love Italy & the Italians, with all their defects & undeniable weakness, and I have faith for the future .. sooner or later, .. & probably later indeed–

We are very uncertain about England– We shall go there soon, I think, for a short visit—I think, most painfully. The bitter hail seems driving against my face when I turn it your way .. morally, I mean of course. Still, we shall go I think. And whenever we do, you shall hear of me & see me,—be sure of that: only write meantime .. directing still to New Cross, .. because our movements here are too doubtful to be perfectly trusted.

Now do be persuaded about the advice—I entreat you. And write directly that I may know how you are, & still love a little, one who loves you unchangeably–

Your EBB–

Robert’s best regards always. Our child travelled with magnificent energy .. & is now really beginning to get fat with this Parisian clear air & good bread. In the highest spirits & health, he is, little darling. My uncle Hedley, in passing through Paris to Tours, called here yesterday, & was in wonder at me & my child! It seemed to him “fabulous”, he said—“he never expected to see me in Paris with my son”!! It was a great pleasure to me to have this visit, for he is quite my favorite uncle & has always been most kind & affectionate to me.

Am I not close to you, here in Paris? Dont you feel me come back? You will understand that to go closer must be full of pain, though it be to see you & some of the dearest on earth to me .. my precious Arabel .. both my dear sisters! though Henrietta is in Somersetshire, & we may not meet, after all,—& she might as well come to Paris. But it is of Arabel I chiefly think, for she is bound where she is, dear thing. Yes, we must go to England through all pangs.

As for Robert’s family they were eager to come over to us here directly, so we need not have gone for them. They are very kind.

Address: Miss Mitford / Three Mile Cross / near Reading.

Publication: EBB-MRM, III, 324–327.

Manuscript: Wellesley College.

1. Year provided by postmark.

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