2645. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 14, 87–92.
Pisa–
[24–25] Dec– [1846] [1]
My beloved Arabel, your letter .. your letters .. for Mr Boyd’s envelope counts .. are three times welcome. In the first place, pray believe that I do not keep a “separate account” for all manner of maladies, & that I tell you honestly the precise truth about myself .. for better or worse. I dont tell you that I am ill, because, I am not ill—there’s the satisfactory reason. As to all that story of the morphine, I told it to Nelly Bordman, in consequence of her sapient interest in drugs—it was a passing inconvenience, just proving that I could’nt do without the medecine, with all my arrogance of health,—& not otherwise regarded even by Robert, who if my foot goes to sleep, gets the headache with the fright of it, & who certainly, before the cause was ascertained of that sudden change in me, was seriously uneasy. The right quantity of morphine being restored, I was as well as possible again, & have had no more reason to complain of Italian pharmacy. Oh—do not think, Arabel, of sending any medecines from Bell or elsewhere. I should have asked you if it had been necessary, but it is, in fact, most unnecessary. Our Italian explained afterward, with a multitude of apologies, that the English preparation of morphine being nearly always of an inferior strength to what they are able to procure here, he conscientiously thought it right to make allowances for that difference—! Which was wrong, of course! In every case he shd have explained the matter to Robert! I doubt the motive a little. Still, it has been right ever since, & Dr Cook [2] observed to Mrs Jameson that the people here were in general distinguished for the excellence of their drugs & the fidelity of their attention to prescriptions, & that in his opinion, the man was startled at the quantity in my case.– This quantity I am diminishing gradually—a little interrupted by the late cold, .. when I took more of course to stop the evil symptoms– While there was frost, I did not leave these two rooms, the bedroom opening on the sittingroom, & wore the red chinese crape shawl crossed over my chest, undressing & dressing by the fire here. A little languid & uncomfortable in the throat & chest, I felt during that time, .. but it did not last long, .. & now I am revived & enjoying the thaw—and you will believe that I am well when I tell you that I am going out tonight at eleven to the cathedral to witness the great ceremonies of the season .. It is so warm that Wilson with whom the casting vote was left (Robert did not dare to take the responsibility. Oh, you would laugh to see how he goes to consult Wilson on every occasion about me,—she is the Delphic oracle!) Wilson decided that I could’nt be hurt by this warm air, particularly as the cathedral is so near, & I could wear my respirator– He wants to carry me under his cloak .. he is sure he could carry me perfectly well!– Which I decline with ever so much gratitude, for myself & him– And think of my going out to walk at eleven oclock at night—Christmas eve too– I am sitting on a stool (while writing this) a stool which Mrs Jameson made for me .. between the tail of Robert’s coat and the fire, as he sits at the table preparing the new edition of his poems– After tea, it is, with us, & before supper .. & here we shall sit till eleven oclock .. which is quite contrary to our usual habits– The fire is nearly on a level with the floor .. my knees being higher .. Now fancy us– My thoughts went to you & I was forced to write, to draw you closer to us & wish the right Christmas wishes! What are you doing, I wonder, at this moment? At dinner, you are, perhaps—taking wine with Mr Bell! My poor darling Arabel!– I know you miss me,—for with all I have gained here, (which seems to me everyday a greater gain) I miss you, & bear the thought of you close to my deepest affections, never to be cast out while I have life & reason. How perfect & generous you have been to me—how true & tender!– Yes, let me always be in your prayers– Perhaps it is to them, that I owe all this joy & satisfaction– You are doing me good as usual, even at this distance!– May God bless you!—and my dearest Henrietta whom I love so, .. and all of you whom I must continue to love. I hope, Arabel, that you are right in your assurance, & that there is exaggeration in Mr Boyd’s statement–
<…> [3]
We have just had such a kind letter from Mrs Jameson, who having been snowed up at Florence, is just about to set off to Rome. She says that she reckons among her best blessings of the year, having won the friendship & intimacy of “two such Hearts”––think of my reciting compliments to you like a paternoster!—only she loves us both, I know, & I like you to understand it. Her eyes were full of tears when she took leave of me, & Robert, who took her to the railroad was cordially kissed, at parting, both by herself & Gerardine! I assure you he was .. She says that Lady Byron says that she (Lady B) has had a letter from Joanna Baillie, “full of interest” about us—& Lady Byron herself (I told you) has taken us up with both hands. Think of Mr Forster (of the Examiner) writing to Robert at Vaucluse!– So the letter has of course been waiting there these three months– I laughed so when I heard it .. could not help laughing– If you knew what a place Vaucluse is! A chasm between two black rocks with a black face of another rock shutting it up, out of which rushes, rushes, & roars the immortal fountain! There are a few caves here & there, to be sure, .. and a little inn at the outer end, like the smallest village-alehouse you ever saw in your life. Now think of a man’s understanding that we had taken up our abode at Vaucluse! One supposition is that we being perfectly & most poetically mad, to his mind, he fancied we had gone tout de bon [4] to live in a cave. We have sent to Avignon for the letter. Dear Mr Kenyon says that “a new pleasure awaits me in England .. the finding in how strong an affection & a no less strong respect, my husband is held by his many friends.” But I need scarcely go to England for it—such proofs of it come to us day by day. When I go to England it will rather be to talk to you & see your faces, you who love me, & whom I love continually,—and we shall accept dearest Trippy’s invitation some day, tell her with a kiss from me. Is she with you? Why do you not mention her– Mr Kenyon says too .. “How you will love your sister in law when you know her!”– He speaks warmly of all Robert’s family. Also he talks of coming to see us before very long—not this winter exactly .. say nothing about it!—and of Mr Chorley’s coming with him. Is it not too late in the year for the Martins to travel so far, by the way, as this Italy? They always set out too late. We shall be very pleased if we do see them, appreciating them as they deserve .. I, most affectionately,—and Robert, delighted with the letter Mr Martin wrote to me. So characteristic, that was!—they have been true, stedfast friends to me! I have not written to Bummy yet. I shall write in time, & there is time enough. Did I tell you that Miss Bayley said of us in a note she sent to Mr Kenyon, that “surely our marriage was made in Heaven.’[’]!—which I believe too, in the sense of its being a providential grace & gift .. to me, at least!—& when I hear Robert speak of his “unutterable happiness”, & feel that instead of decreasing, his attachment to me deepens day by day, I take courage to believe that so, it is, to us both. If ever I wish for you & Henrietta (and I do persist in wishing it for you, notwithstanding your being an infidel on some points & laughing when you shd look grave) if ever I wish for you both an equal happiness .. I am stopped by the persuasion that there never was nor can be such another husband as mine, giving up his whole life & soul & tenderness– Why, where are such men in the world? Mr Boyd says rightly that I owe everything to him—a debt of inexpressible gratitude. When I write of it all, I give you but faint ideas .. as I had myself before I married. I knew then, though loving him enough to act as I did, only something of what he was, & of the happy atmosphere into which I was raising myself. Thank God for me always, beloved Arabel—my own thanks seem too cold .. too weak.
Christmas Day– Well! we went last night to the Duomo (the cathedral) & did not come home till nearly one in the morning– Now I am tired, very tired .. but have caught no cold, which indeed was impossible with all the precautions taken. When Robert found that he was’nt allowed to carry me, he wanted me to put his cloak over my head & wear it—& tried the effect of it, making me look “just like a little monk”– But the cloak was too heavy for me to carry .. I begged to eschew it—so we settled at last that he shd wear his own cloak & make room for me under it—which was perfectly effectual. Fancy me, respirator-bound, shawled & furred, & then covered with the cloak from head to foot .. face & all. I could not see a ray of light—only he made me a crevice just as we got to the Leaning Tower, that I might see it by moonlight—for the rest .... “here’s a step .. a second .. three .. four,” .. I was as blind as that! Yet the air was perfectly mild: with a good deal of soft west-wind though!– The Duomo was very striking as we entered it, illuminated from end to end .. Galileo’s great lamp [5] glittering with a starry splendour .. then the choir & the organ!– I was impressed for the first ten minutes! Afterwards it grew all weariness of the flesh & no edification of the spirit, certainly. I sate on that hard oaken seat under one of the columns, till my back & head ached one against another,—Robert whispering at intervals “Are you tired, Ba? oh, so am I!” We were both following humbly in the steps of the Pisan martyr San Torpé. [6] We did not manage ourselves as well as two signoras on their knees beside us, who were laughing & talking to one another with all their might. Nothing does strike me so much in these Catholic churches, as the want of all reverence & decency ever in the people. Call them congregation—call them rather promenaders. In the cathedral last night .. it was a grand religious festival, observe, & everybody in Pisa who cd go, I suppose, thought it a religious duty to go. Well—the people walked up & down & talked loud while the service proceeded—loud enough for me to hear three yards off—or else they stood in groups & talked. The people who did’nt talk, stared. Here & there, somebody was kneeling down .. and the chance was that the kneeler was talking too, .. as in the case of our neighbours—but really scarcely anybody knelt anywhere. They just walked, & walked, & talked & talked. A dog that sate in the midst with his eyes gravely fixed on the altar, Robert pointed out as the most reverent member of the congregation .. “That’s a new picture” .. “C’è un nuovo quadro,” .. “put up today” .. I heard said several times—& then, the criticisms!—just as if it were a picture put up in a dining room– The service in the meantime was carried on at the altar with the usual hoarse chanting of old priests, & curtsies & gestures of various sorts—all magnificent & feeble .. saying nothing to the senses even,—which mine cd be impressed by. If they would have let the organ & the choir sound & sing on, & the incense burn .. I liked that cloud of incense floating about the brazen crucifix .. we might have felt an effect—but the priests dispossessed us of our own imaginations even!– At the moment of the uplifting of the host, .. for that one moment .. there was attention & silence, & everyone knelt or stood still. That one moment of devotion was the only one for the people, observe– I have looked everywhere to see more than this & cannot see it. In the French churches it did not surprise me, but here it does—and how English protestants can come here, & ever be English Puseyites afterwards I cannot understand or hope to understand. Wilson went with us last night as she wished it, & Flush was shut up in my room (poor Flush,—I cd hear him begin to cry) because we feared a crowd .. but in the great cathedral there was no crowd—oh, plenty of room to walk about! If Stormie saw these things as I see them, he wd be surprised I think. We have tried again & again to hear a sermon preached—but it seems the most difficult thing possible, to hear a sermon. The giving of religious instruction in that form, seems shrunk from– Only once, Robert entered some church by accident, as he was taking his walk, and came on a monk, who was preaching– Did I tell you that? and how the people hissed at the end, some of them, & some clapped their hands? I am not apt, you know, to be narrow, & attach undue importance to unessential doctrines .. much less to forms—but the state of things in this Italy does seem to me most melancholy,—melancholy beyond all my expectations. They have the sun, & no light. Oh, such a day we have today, for Christmas Day! So hot it is—the air so soft, the sunshine so bright!– But I am too tired with last night’s great deed, to go out this morning– I must forego my walk. Robert has returned Mr Surtees’s card .. just the card– Mr Surtees showed no sort of empressement, [7] about coming to see us, so we may do as we please I suppose– Mr Irving had a card too .. but meant for a visit, that was, .. & he was not at home. How detestable it wd be if we were to be drawn out at everyone’s <***>
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Dated by EBB’s references to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Year is determined from the Brownings’ residence in Pisa in December 1846.
2. Francis Cook (1810?–1903) took his qualifications from the University of Edinburgh in 1836, and was the author of A Practical Treatise on Pulmonary Consumption, Its Pathology, Diagnosis, and Treatment (1842), as referred to by RB in letter 2655. He returned to England and conducted a successful practice at Cheltenham from 1849 until his retirement.
3. Someone other than EBB has marked out eleven and one-half lines of the letter at the bottom of the second page and the top of the third.
4. “Really,” or “for good and all.”
5. “The bronze lamp suspended in the nave, and of fine workmanship, is said by some to be by Tacca; by others, by Vicenzo Possanti. According to the well-known story, this lamp suggested to Galileo the theory of the application of the pendulum” (Murray’s Hand-Book for Travellers in Northern Italy, 1847, pp. 445–446).
6. San Torpes was a 1st-century Christian martyr under Nero and is one of the patrons of the Republic of Pisa.
7. “Eagerness,” “enthusiasm,” or “urgency.”
___________________
