2641. EBB to Henrietta Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 14, 73–81.
Collegio Ferdinando
Dec. 19– [1846] [1]
My own dearest Henrietta has reproached me perhaps for not paying my debts to her– I am certain I would have written before now if the “turns” had been properly considered. Still it is the same thing—and, for instance, I write at this moment to her, with Arabel’s letter just read & it scarcely out of my hands. In which, was a note from you to Robert though .. & who shd thank the writer of that, except myself? It pleased him, & it pleased me .. you are too affectionate to me, but cant be to him– Not that I mean you can love me too much—oh! but you understand! You can understand & my darling Arabel can understand a great many things by the way through what George calls your “sexual sympathies” … by which, if he means that no one can be generous except a woman, he goes rather too far, however upon a right road. I love dear George, but at last he will wring my patience from me– Those insinuations about money & “Mr Browning,” being reiterated, are really “de trop” [2] altogether. I refer to what Arabel told me about my request to him, & how he said that his principles were stronger than his feelings &c—which is right of course .. for principles to be stronger than feelings––only when the feelings permit such insinuations about a man who has given up the whole world for his sister’s sake & is devoting every hour & moment of life to her happiness .. the triumph of the said principles is not quite so great or apparent– Money, money, money .. nothing but money—— My brothers are all of them considerably younger than my husband or have seen less of the world, but that he is infinitely less worldly than any of them, taking no thought of this filthy money, money, .. is as true as that he wd be no husband of mine if it were otherwise. I wish with all my heart that my sense of duty (with this uncertain future as concerns my health & other things) wd allow me to go to him & say, “Now, let us do as you have wished——let us throw this money back to my family, & trust to ourselves for the rest. Accept such a situation—& let us be clean of the imputations of which now for the first time I will tell you.” Good Heavens,—how little they know him .. and how ungenerous men can be in their guesses at the unknown. Would George himself act so, for instance—if he married a woman under informal circumstances, so that her money became his without bond or drawback … would he object to the payment of the debts incurred by her previous to becoming his wife & would he consider it an insult or not if her brother supposed—that he might object?– Ungenerous supposition—call it by the lightest name!—— Also, he must do me a greater injustice by imagining that I could owe debts under these circumstances, without informing my husband of them. I must be worthy indeed of his, or anybody’s esteem if I could act so .. just as Robert wd be of my affection, if he could think so. Let my brothers learn, if they do not, by their own hearts, guess it .. by their own hearts & sense of honour, .. that precisely in consequence of the informality of our marriage, & of my money falling therefore into the unrestricted possession of my husband, .. he shrinks from touching it, & forces me to consider & determine the manner of spending it, until I come to reproach him .. yes, I, [3] too!– Only, that nothing, & least of all, matters of such vile interest, could ever produce a division between us– And now I have done with my indignation ‘for the nonce.’ Tell Arabel that a few days before her letter came I had written to Mr Kenyon to ask him to send to her £70—but she must be patient, as I do not know from what fund he will take it, having left the decision to him. I wanted Minny’s debt settled, before the trustees busied themselves about the lawpapers, & therefore wrote to Mr Kenyon at once. We have had the very kindest letters from Mr Arnould & Mr Chorley accepting the trusteeships, .. both being proud & happy so to express their high esteem for Robert. Mr Kenyon himself is the third trustee, & it was at his suggestion that the other two were selected– I who began by being so vexed about this settlement-business am now satisfied that it is necessary—that it is necessary, I mean, that I should not oppose it <in justice to Robert> [4] .. George convinces me, for instance!– If the world talks Chinese, one must talk back Chinese to it or not be understood– I wonder they do not say in Wimpole Street, that he married me in order to murder me at leisure—there really wd be more sense & consistency & probability in that, considering what Robert is. Now I am angry, you see ..!—— ......———— And to be sure, when one considers besides what a great marriage he has made in marrying me, one may be at liberty to impute such things– There is the rank, in the first place—and for the riches .. when there is money enough barely to live by in a tête à tête, with future contingencies of sickness & the like, in my case, to lighten the prospect. A fair exchange for a man’s freedom, and a brilliant life in London, as he had opportunities of leading it. Your friend Mr Bell [5] will do somewhat better with his heiress, I imagine, .. though with women in general .. of rather inferior influence perhaps, than Robert Browning was. There now!——I have done.
Give my love to George & all the rest, to make up for my savageness– What makes me savage today is the weather .. set it down to that .. for after the divinest summer temperature, suddenly the air has taken to itself frost, and Pisa has had actual snow “the first time for five years” say the inhabitants. For more than a week I have not stirred from these two rooms .. sittingroom & bedroom .. dressing & undressing by the fire here, as there is none where I sleep. I feel languid & the old uneasiness in the throat, but am well otherwise, & have the hope & certainty that this is an exceptional state of things & that a few hours may set us right at any time. The last time I was out I could not bear my shawl,—and now, even, the sun is so hot that women are seen walking out with furs and parasols together. The snow is on the Duomo, interposing between the yellow marble & blue sky .. & the mountains are powdered with snow––yet the sun burns, burns .. Robert says to the degree of making him feel sick when he walks in it .. we heap up the pinewood .. that is, he does—he is so afraid of my suffering: indeed I am afraid too .. for if I were to be ill after all, I feel I should deserve to be stoned for having married– But I shall not be ill … the cold will go off in a day or two,—and even as it is, it is different from English cold– In the bedroom, for instance, where there is no fire, .. not a sign is there of frost on the window, .. and the air is not sharp & metallic like that which cuts away the breath .. it is a different air altogether. I sleep well, & all day sit half in & half out of the fire, so that I shall do well, I dare say. To give me ‘dressing room,’ Robert goes into the cold, at morning & evening, like the kindest person in the world which he is—it makes me ashamed. I wrote to dear Jane yesterday .. but delay my letter to Bummy, though she is very mistaken in fancying that I am cherishing a mortal enmity to her on account of it. She did us the honour of saying that she hears Robert’s talents recognized in various quarters! This is encouraging: poor dear Bummy! after all she means kindly & affectionately to us all—but the world is growing enlightened on certain subjects, & the exercise of the rights of men & even women, rather better understood– Did Jane tell you that the Bevans are as happy as people can be? Very glad I am to hear it– They are staying in the house with her .. which Arabella may not perhaps like so well– It is sad to think of this new malady of the Tic– Always there is something the matter, notwithstanding their perpetual clientship to medical men. Tell Arabel that I have not left off my draughts—oh no!– I have not been “charmed” up to that point—though gradually I am diminishing it. Indeed, Nelly Bordman (my physician in ordinary) will tell her how I was not at all well soon after I came to Pisa, & frightened poor Robert out of his propriety .. & only at the end of a few days set him at ease by tracing up the whole indisposition to a freak of the chemist here who “thought the morphine must be ordered in such large quantities by a mistake” and therefore modified the whole at discretion. I am forced to take it still, & can leave it off only by degrees, without risking my health in a dangerous manner. Patience & security go together, you see—and by the summer, we may do much– By the way, what does my dearest Arabel mean by making herself uneasy about summers & such things? I began directly by scolding Robert … “Where was the use of your talking wildly in that way about Venice?” To which he answered very humbly .. “He did not know .. he was not aware of having done it .. it must have been some allusion to some possibility .. he was certain he said no more than that.” —Well .. he ought’nt to have done it, I said—& in an hour after taking up the letter, I perceived with shame & confusion of face, that it was I who had spoken of Venice, & he, of coming to England “one day”– So of course I had to apologize .. for I remembered then what I had said of Venice .. and I turned round, observing graciously, “Whenever I blame you, I find myself in fault afterwards.” To which he answered with the greatest quietness .. (of course I expected him to say “My Darling, when you find fault with yourself, you are most in fault of all,” or something pretty of that kind) but he just answered .. “It is a satisfaction at any rate, that you should admit it”– So I admired his infinite “modesty,” which had quite taken me by surprise, I assured him .. & then Wilson brought in the chesnuts .. which were hard & bad enough to avenge me. But now, let my dear dearest Arabel be uneasy about anything except Venice. Why Mrs Jameson is going to Venice too; and she must be in Paris in the early summer, & in London in the autumn. Our plans are all mist just now—mere vapour in the wind. We think & talk, & then talk & think—and dont you think, both of you, that it is an inducement to go home directly,—this painting out of one’s footsteps in the old room, & this generous interpretation put on one’s actual & possible deeds, by my brothers? If I had committed a murder & forgery, I dont see how Papa could have shown his sense of it, otherwise than he has done. To have thrown the books out into the street, would have produced a crowd & some inconvenience to himself.—but the act wd not have been more significant than what he has done. [6] When I hear of such things & feel them, Robert says to me “you have come to a greater love than you have left—of that, you may be sure. If you were to wrong me as a man is most wronged, leaving me who am your husband for another, .. (imagining for a moment such a possibility ..) yet for the sake of the last few months’ happiness by means of you, I never would seek to wound you,—never send back your letters if you wrote to me, Ba .. never.” Which is true, I know: he comprehends better the nature of love!
It appears to us both (to shift the side of the subject) that to let those boxes remain at Tilbury,—will mean for us the most unnecessary expense. If Mr Kenyon should be able conveniently to make room for them, I know he will not spare the kindness– Ask him from me .. write a note & ask him, telling him how it is: but in the case of its being an inconvenience, which depends entirely upon his house & not himself, or I should not doubt about it (say this for me) let him speak the truth frankly, & we must have them sent to New Cross instead. Tilbury is out of the question. Oh—how unkind it all is!– Set my fault at the largest .. call it fault or crime, if you choose,—and the unkindness covers & overpasses the whole. I could not have had the heart to act so to anyone I had ever loved, had that person wronged me more than I ever wronged .. an enemy!– It is hard & cruel, I think, & is moreover my predilection to the uttermost– I will not say any more. What particularly vexes me is the conduct permitted towards you both, especially to Arabel in the matter of the chapel & the room– To turn her out of that room! Such an inconvenience too—if she does not care as she says, I at least do care—my dear dearest Arabel!– I do hope, darling Henrietta, you have a fire everyday & all day up stairs– If you have it lighted early in the morning, there will be no smoke discernible in the drawingroom and it is really necessary for Arabel who is used to it, and good for you both– That room is very cold. Now, for the love of me, do not neglect this precaution, I beseech you. Tell me if you go to chapel every morning in your usual devout manner .. and if your walks are as long & as agreeable as ever– Give my love to Susan & Surtees—the only people who sent their love to me, by the way, in Arabel’s letter– Oh, that last day at dearest Trippy’s .. my dinner there .. my thoughts! [7] How the scene has come back to me again & again, like something half dreamed, half lived– Whenever I see Robert in the unmentionable Scotch plaids, it comes back so vividly! Surtees’s costume, & Trippy’s excommunication of the same. Do you remember? When I dine with her next, I hope to feel happier & calmer than I was that day!—and it will not be long before I dine with her I dare say. We do not give up England, I assure you, only we keep to our plans of wandering up & down—it is necessary for my health, and convenient to our means .. and we like, both of us, this way of living, free from domestic cares & the ordering & cooking of dinners. Will you take us in some day, Henrietta, & “include the cooking & housekeeping”? & see us “properly done for”? Robert & I are just alike in every fancy about those kind of things—he turns away from beef & mutton, & loathes the idea of a Saturday hash! A little chicken & plenty of cayenne, and above all things pudding, will satisfy us both when most we are satisfied––and to order just what is wanted, from the “traiteur,” apart from economical consideration of what “is in the house” & shd be eaten, is our “ideal” in this way. My appetite is certainly improved– I finish my egg for instance in the morning. Then at dinner we have Chianti which is an excellent kind of claret—and fancy me (and Wilson) drinking claret out of tumblers– Ask Arabel if she wishes Robert to make me drunk (I write the broad word that she may have room to consider it) as well as .. replete with fish .. to try,—by a reaction, the more delicate phraseology. He aspires to make me take more of this claret than he wd take himself .. pouring it into the glass when I am looking another way .. & entreating me by ever so much invocation when I look & refuse .. and then I, never being famous for resisting his invocations, am at the end of the dinner too giddy to see his face & am laid down at full length in the armchair, & told to go to sleep & profit by the whole. What is curious, is, that this process never gives me the headache, as two spoonfuls of your port used to do & never makes me feverish– It is a light wine, you know, & not heating .. the famous Chianti. A few days ago, our lady of the house sent me a gift of an enormous dish of oranges .. for the “Signora” .. great oranges just gathered from her own garden .. two hanging on a stalk .. & the green leaves glittering round them—twelve or thirteen great oranges, they were, & excellent oranges– We have one everyday after dinner: & the sight of the green crowding orangeleaves is very pretty, & keeps us from thinking too much of the cold– We have taken these rooms to the 17th of April, & are sorry for it. Four months wd have been better than six, for Pisa .. and the Italian spring beginning in February, we might just as well have spent it in Florence for instance, as here– Not that we do not like Pisa—but there is little to see in it, and the country, as far as walkers usually penetrate, is very monotonous .. and when I drive Robert out for his hour’s solitary exercise, he goes “along the flats” ever & ever in the same scenery, the forest is three miles off .. the first hem of it .. & the mountains, five, .. & he does not touch either. Then he has an extravagant fancy (oh .. can I call it unreasonable) that, except this walk for his health, he will go no where without me .. “cannot enjoy it” .. and thus, he quite lives by my chair.– What I cannot do, he will not! Now, when we are in places where there will be more to see within reach, it will be better for him—though he declares that it is not dull by any means & that he never was so happy in his life, for his own part. As to ‘faults,’ Henrietta, you & Arabel, may laugh as you please at my blindness–– Of course he is quite capable of doing & thinking wrongly, & he will tell me things of himself, of which I say at once “That was wrong .. very wrong—” how much more wrongness must there be in God’s eyes? But for defects of character, for deficiencies in the heart & moral being .. for such faults as make themselves habitually felt in persons .. & in most persons, I will say, & it is honestly speaking, I never perceived one sign of such things in him, and do not perceive them now more than the first day– Faults towards me he never committed, & I believe will never commit—and by faults towards me, I simply mean an ungentle or impatient word, a cold look, an exception to the usual tone of tenderness– He says (said it just when I was observing the exact contrary) that it has been the greatest advantage to us to be shut up in this seclusion without any distractions .. that we have learnt one another better by it, than we should have done if we had taken the usual course of newly married people who live so for three weeks or a month, & then proceed to other amusements. I had been calling it “rather a trial”—he said, that it could only be so in cases of unreal & fanciful attachments. So I leave you this philosophy to make the best use of in your own experience—& do earnestly hope & trust for both my beloved sisters, that they may be as happy, or even nearly as happy as I am––& without the drawbacks in England. What is this which “Lord Teynham said”? [8] I never heard, though Arabel thought she told me. The clergyman has not appeared,—and tell her that certainly if we live we shall pray with her one day at Mr Stratton’s, whether Papa may or may not see right to do so. I want to know more of Mr Stratton, by the way– Has Mr Hunter returned? When he is in a good humour, Arabel may give him my love in a branch of olive. I have not a genius for quarrelling with people I ever liked & loved; & if I had, should find it hard to exercise just now. As Robert said when he threw the bad chesnuts into the fire “to have a blaze at any rate” .. “Really these ‘grave years that bring the philosophic mind’ [9] only seem to bring me an excess of imbecile good humour. It is quite dreadful to be a family man & feel gayer than ever.” Not that I apply all that to myself, nor the idea of bad chesnuts to my friends .. but I mean just so much, as that I too, being happy, cannot be bitter & cross at the same time .. not at least for five minutes together– I feel to love them all at home more perhaps than ever I did, & certainly I can bear more from them forgivingly. Suggest, now that it is Christmas time, that they & ourselves here should hold out our hands to one another, & forgive & forget every fault & crossness on each side– Will they? Will Storm begin? I love them all dearly & tenderly—I never disproved that love, I think, for a moment—for if I married, it is an act which the very tenderest sisters have been allowed to perform without a reproach—and if I did not previously consult & apprize them, it was, as God knows, <for their> sakes & that I should not involve them in any manner of evil. How easily I might have trusted my secret to the honour of any one of them—& how impossible, under that bond, they would have found it to speak a word or take a step in hindrance of any project of mine. But if I had done so, they wd have suffered—— Why, they must see this surely. I propose, then, a general new compact of affection for this christmas time—a general anmesty—they shall try to love my husband for my sake, before they have knowledge to love him for his own– Ah—they turn away their heads I dare say! They will follow Papa’s flag for the present. If they do or not may they have bright days this winter, & take up their christmas pies in no unseasonable spirit.
Nobody tells me the colour of the drawing-room carpet & paper & curtains to help my imagination. I do hope & trust you have indeed, persuaded, forced dear Minny to go to bed, & see out her Christmas so! I grieve to hear of her looking unwell– I tell Wilson all the messages, & she is ever so much flattered by it. Cant Bonser [10] (what a name!) help Minny .. make herself useful to her, now that she has only two to dress .. remember– My love to my dear Minny .. & particular entreaty that she will go to bed!—and mind you give my love to Crow– No wonder that she could not guess who was married!—— How many people thought me mad, I dare say. Yet I was not mad, most noble Festus! [11] —not mad, by any means– More & more I am persuaded of the wisdom of my choice & resolution– Now let me hear every detail of everything. Not a word of Lady Bolingbroke? [12] Did that succeed? Tell me all– We have returned cards to Mr Irving. [13] Mr Surtees called two days ago when we were at dinner & Robert studies his dinner hour to return the call. Mrs Turner met him out walking today– “Notwithstanding your very intelligible hints, I mean to call on Mrs Browning”. “She will be happy to see you” he replied .. “but I tell you honestly I never return any visits”. That is civility! He declares that he said so, word for word!—— And now he says to me .. “Ba, if I leave off writing, will you?” .. which I must reply to by a “Yes, agreed”—shutting up my letter.
My beloved Henrietta’s ever attached
Ba–
Write directly & mention Papa—& dear Treppy!–
Robert’s best love to you both. Do you go out much this winter?
Address, on integral page: Miss Barrett, / 50, Wimpole Street, / London.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 8–13 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year determined from the Brownings’ residence in Collegio Ferdinando in December 1846.
2. “Too much.”
3. Underscored twice.
4. Bracketed passage is interpolated above the line.
5. Matthew Bell was one of Henrietta’s former suitors, who had earlier left the field open for Surtees Cook and Palmer Chapman, to whom he referred, respectively, as “Perseverance” and “Despair.” “His heiress” was soon given up; see letter 2185, note 7, and letter 2647.
6. EBB’s father had her possessions placed in storage with Edward Tilbury & Co., 35–49 High Street, Marylebone, after she left 50 Wimpole Street.
7. EBB dined with Miss Trepsack on 14 September 1846, two days after her marriage; see letter 2599.
8. The Hon. and Rev. George Henry Roper-Curzon, 16th Baron Teynham (1798–1889) was a Baptist minister and friend from Herefordshire days. Apparently he had mentioned that a fellow clergyman might be visiting in Italy.
9. Cf. Wordsworth, “Ode: Intimations of Immortality” (1807), line 186.
11. Cf. Acts 26:25.
12. She was a family friend (see letter 2560, note 3). It appears that Henrietta was seeking her help in trying to find a suitable position for Surtees so that they could more easily marry.
13. See letter 2630, note 12. For Mr. Surtees see letter 2499, note 3. We have been unable to identify Mrs. Turner mentioned here.
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