2936. EBB to Julia Martin
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 91–94.
26 Devonshire Street–
Wednesday. [6 August 1851] [1]
My ever dearest Mrs Martin I am not ungrateful after all, but I wanted to write a long letter to you (having much to say) and even now, it is hard, in this confusion, to write a short one. We have been overwhelmed with kindnesses,—crushed with gifts, like the Roman lady, [2] .. and literally to drink through a cup of tea from beginning to end, without an interruption from the door-bell, we have scarcely attained to, since we came. For my part I refuse all dinner invitations except when our dear friend Mr Kenyon “imposes himself as an exception”, in his own words—but even in keeping the resolution there are necessary fatigues .. and, do you know, I have not been well since our arrival in England: my first step ashore was into a puddle & a fog, & I began to cough before we reached London. The quality of the air does not agree with me .. that’s evident. For nearly five years I have had no such cough nor difficulty of breathing, & my friends who at first sight thought me looking well, must forbear all compliments for the future, I think,—I get so much paler every day. Next week we send Wilson to see her mother near Sheffield & the baby with her .. which is a great stroke of fortitude in me—only what I cant bear, is to see him crying because she is gone away, so we resolve on letting them both go together. When she returns ten days or a fortnight after, we shall have to think of going to Paris again—indeed—Robert begins to be nervous about me—which is nonsense, but natural enough perhaps.
In regard to Colwall, you are both, my very dear friends, the kindest that you can be– Ah, but dearest, dearest Mrs Martin, you can understand, with the same kindness that you use to me in other things. There is only one event in my life, which never loses its bitterness,—which comes back on me like a retreating wave, going & coming again—which was & is my grief– I never had but one brother who loved & comprehended me. And so there is just one thought which would be unbearable if I went into your neighbourhood,—and you wont set it down, I am sure, as unpardonable weakness, much less as affectation, if I confess to you that I never could bear it– The past would be too strong for me. As to Hope End, it is nothing– I have been happier in my own home since, than I was there & then– But Torquay has made the neighbourhood of Hope End impossible to me—I could not eat or sleep in that air. You will forgive me for the weakness, I am certain. You know a little, if not entirely, how we loved one another—how I was first with him, & he with me,—while God knows that death & separation have no power over such love.
After all, we shall see you in Paris if not in England– We pass this winter in Paris, in the hope of my being able to bear the climate—for indeed Italy is too far. And if the winter does not disagree with me too much we mean to take a house & settle in Paris, so as to be close to you all, & that will be a great joy to me. You will pass through Paris this autumn (wont you?) on your way to Pau, & I shall see you– I do long to see you & make you know my husband.
You may suppose that I am happier for the sight of both my dear sisters—for Henrietta too is here .. has come for a week on purpose to be near me .. a kindness for which I am grateful to the goodnature of Surtees Cook. Her child at six months is twice the size of mine at two years, & really magnificent in all ways– She seems very happy, I thank God. Arabel, too, looks well, dear darling thing,—& when we sit together, it is like a dream that we ever parted. Alfred & Sette I have seen once,
<…> [3]
him at all, (which <…> of a certain defect in the kind of delicacy & consideration which, according to the world’s conventions, he owed to me & mine. What he owed to me as the <daughter of his wife>
<…>
So far from regretting my marriage, it has made the happiness & honour of my life—& every unkindness received from my own house makes me press nearer to the tenderest & noblest of human hearts, proved by the uninterrupted devotion of nearly five years. Husband, lover, nurse—not one of these, has Robert been to me, but all three together. I neither regret my marriage, therefore, nor the manner of it—because the manner of it was a necessity of the act. I thought so at the time, I think so now—and I believe that the world in general will decide (if the world is to be really appealed to!) that my opinion upon this subject (after five years) is worth more <than Papa’s>.
Dearest Mrs Martin, do write to me. I keep my thoughts as far as I can from bitter things—& the affectionateness of my dearest sisters is indeed much on the other side. Also, we are both giddy with the kind attentions pressed on us from every side, from some of the best in England– It’s hard to think at all in such a confusion. We met Tennyson (the Laureate) by a chance in Paris, who insisted that we should take possession of his house & servants at Twickenham & use them as long as we liked to stay in England. Nothing could be more warmly kind .. & we accepted the note in which he gave us the right of possession, for the sake of the generous autograph, though we never intended in our own minds to act out the proposition. Since then, Mr Arnauld [sic] the chancery barrister, has begged us to go and live <in his> town house—! [4] (we dont want houses, you see). Mrs Fanny Kemble called on us & left us tickets for her Shakespeare reading– (By the way, I was charmed with her Hamlet.) Mr Forster of the Examiner gave us a magnificent dinner at Thames Ditton [5] in sight of the swans, & we breakfast on saturday with Mr Rogers. [6] Then we have seen the Literary Guild actors at the Hanover Square rooms, [7] —& we have passed an evening with Carlyle (one of the great sights in England to my mind)– He is a very warm friend of Robert’s, so that on every account I was delighted to see him face to face. I cant tell you what else we have done or not done. It’s a great dazzling heap of things new & strange. Barry Cornwall (Mr Procter) came to see us every day, till business swept him out of town, & dear Mrs Jameson left her Madonna for us in despite of the printers. [8] Such kindness, on all sides. Ah—there’s kindness in England after all. Yet I grew cold to the heart as I set foot on the ground of it, & wished myself away. Also, the sort of life is not perhaps the best for me, & the sort of climate is really the worst.
You heard of Mr Kenyon’s goodness to us—I told Arabel to tell you.
But I must end here. Another time I will talk of Paris which I do hope will suit us as a residence. I was quite well there, the three weeks we stayed, & am far from well just now—thinking seriously of a blister,—for the first time for all these years. You see, the weight of the atmosphere, which seems to me like lead, combined with the excitement, is too much at once. Oh—it wont be very bad, I dare say. I mean to try to be quiet, & abjure for the future the night air.
I should not omit to tell you in this quantity of egotism that my husband’s father & sister have received me most affectionately. She is highly accomplished, with a heart to suit the head.
Now do write– Let me hear all about you, & how dear Mr Martin & yourself are. Robert’s cordial regards with those of
your ever affectionate &
ever grateful Ba
Henrietta came last saturday & goes next saturday, by the Taunton excursion-train. She & Surtees are sanguinely hoping for the jail-governorship at Taunton [9] .. are you aware? Three hundred & fifty a year, & perquisites to a great amount, besides house coals & candles. If they succeed, they will be rich—for he has leave to keep his adjutancy.
Publication: LEBB, II, 13–17 (in part, as ca. August 1851).
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Dated by EBB’s reference to Henrietta’s London visit of 2–9 August 1851. 6 August was the only Wednesday of that period.
2. An allusion to Tarpeia, daughter of the governor of the citadel of Rome, who, according to legend, promised the Sabines that she would open the gates of the citadel if they gave her that which they wore on their left arms; i.e., their gold bracelets. When she let them in, however, their king threw on her not only his bracelet but also his shield; his army followed suit, and she was crushed under the rain of shields and bracelets.
3. Three quarters of the sheet has been excised, affecting text here and below. This missing portion evidently concerned EBB’s estranged relationship with her brothers and her father.
4. Joseph Arnould’s London address at this time was 35 Westbourne Place, Eaton Square. See his listing in Appendix IV.
5. 14 miles S.W. of London, across the Thames from Hampton Court Palace.
6. Ill health prevented EBB from going; see the second paragraph of letter 2941.
7. Where Charles Dickens and his amateur theatrical company had performed Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s comedy Not so Bad as we Seem. The play, written to raise funds for The Guild of Literature and Art (see letter 2896, note 17), was first staged at the Duke of Devonshire’s house on 16 May 1851. During the Brownings’ 1851 stay in London, the only performance they could have seen took place on the night of 4 August (see the advertisement in The Times of 1 August 1851, p. 4). However, there is no direct evidence indicating they attended the play that night. It seems more probable that the Brownings visited the Hanover Square Rooms during the rehearsal held the day of the performance from 12 to 2:30 p.m. (see Dickens, 6, 450). They may have been invited to do so by either Dickens himself, or by John Forster, who was part of the company.
8. Presumably the manuscript or proof of Legends of the Madonna, as Represented in the Fine Arts. Forming the Third Series of Sacred and Legendary Art. It was published in December 1852.
9. See letter 2928, note 4.
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