Correspondence

2650.  EBB to Henrietta Moulton-Barrett

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 14, 105–110.

[Pisa]

[23 January 1847] [1]

My own dearest Henrietta must, to begin, forgive me all untoward & objectionable words, however & whenever let fall, about “Puseyites” “Newmanites” “Tractarians” or whomever so called or miscalled. I cant remember what I wrote, but I am sure that if it was written in an ungentle spirit, I am sorry for it, & agree it was wrong, without a word more. [2] Dont you know that I hate a controversial & bitter tone in religion, above every error or whatever may so seem to me, in the same? Only standing here upon the shore where all those waves of certain ideas & trains of thought naturally tend & break, I spoke upon impulse, just as I should have done if face to face with you,—& you must forgive me as you should have forgiven me then– Even at that moment I did not mean the least reproach by the word “Puseyites” .. one must use words you know, or the meaning one has, lies in the dark. I meant simply the holders of the opinions revived by Dr Pusey, & about which there has been so much contention. If I had said “members of the church of England”, I might have referred to persons as absolutely opposed to those I spoke of, as possible—low churchmen for instance! And, High churchmen, even, would by no means have expressed the precise thing, for there are high churchmen & high churchmen. Now forgive me for saying awkwardly & harshly whatever I may have said so. Of course there are Christians in every body of men who call on Christ, .. while the purest Christianity may probably be on the outside of all– I went into the church here with the desire of praying with the people, &, with all my disappointment of distraction & quenching of the imagination, I hope I did it a little—the worst was that they did not appear to pray themselves very much. By the way, some things I cant make out– Will Storm reveal to me, for instance, why it is that the fasting is done in Italy on saturday, & not on friday? On friday they eat magnificently. On saturday they come to the eggs, & the beans .. beans pounded into the likeness of peas-pudding—we had some the other night for supper, from our people of the house, who sent it in to us with an “aviso al publico,” that to enjoy it to perfection we should add some white sugar & plenty of oil! Perhaps it was the ideal perfection which disturbed my positive pleasure, but really & altogether it was beyond me. Peas-pudding “adapted to the capacity” of horses, may rather be like it in the state we saw:—with the oil, it would be brought down to the pigs, I should fancy. So I swore by the celebrated pork of Epicurus, [3] never to touch it again. Robert always says that I have dreadful prejudices, & he is so ambitious of surmounting his & talks so learnedly of the instincts of nations in relation to the food they select, that you would take for granted (to hear him) that he lived here upon oil & garlic .. whereas, most happily for both of us, he never touches either—“the signora’s fault,” as he explains to the Trattoria people, when they open their eyes at the barbarism of our taste. Not to like oil!!– The fact is that he hates it just as much as the signora, only with remorse!!– i.e. wishing that he did’nt: while I avow my frailty as shamelessly as I should eschew (rather than chew) the acorns of our English ancestors–

Jany 27th) Dearest Henrietta, This letter was begun last saturday, & now it is wednesday night, .. but really I have not had the heart to go on writing. I will tell you why—Wilson has been ill .. not very ill, & not in the least dangerously, & now she is a good deal better, .. doing as well as possible in fact—still, the feelings of responsibility, & also of sympathy with a person for whom I have so much regard & with so much good reason, have kept me uneasy of course– In England, it would have been a lighter thing—but to bring her here & to see her ill at such a distance from her friends—you will understand how I could not have the heart to write– Last week she complained of a pain in her left side .. just where Arabel used to have hers .. & we both fancied that it was obstruction or indigestion—and she confided to me (I making exclamations!) that she had bought & partly taken eight shillings worth of English pills for bilious disorders & that they did not seem strong enough. So at her request, I made Robert bring home from the English Dispensary, three grains of calomel & so much rhubarb– Taken on friday night. On Saturday morning, she appealed from the rhubarb to certain cream of Tartar & herb water employed by the people of the house & strenuously recommended—entreating me not to tell Robert. This seemed to relieve her, she said, .. but the pain returned .. burning up into the breast. I could’nt help telling Robert because I was frightened—& we both wished her much to go to Dr Cook .. which indeed I had pressed on her before .. Robert declaring that she wd kill herself at last with taking such redundancy of medecine. She wd go, she said, if she did not feel better—& once she put on her boots with the intention of going, & fancied herself better .. she would’nt go– Which went on till Saturday night while I was putting my feet into hot water by the fire here, all undressed .. here in the sitting room. All at once she sank down on the sofa, shivering all over, & cried out that she was about to be very ill, & that she would go to Dr Cook at once, .. asking me to ask the Signorina of the house to accompany her. I asked—(frightened out of my wits) & the girl was afraid to go with Wilson who “wd certainly faint in the street”, .. & though I proposed having a carriage for both, she drew back .. & with very good reason as grew plain to me & to poor Wilson too. So, recovering my senses by degrees, I dried my feet, & ran away with the basin, & put on a dressing gown & sent Wilson to bed, while I went to ask Robert to dress himself & set off himself for Dr Cook .. which he did at the quickest. It was past ten, & he had to go to the other side of the Arno & a good way beside,—“And what am I to do if Dr Cook wont come? if I cant get in?” “Oh, get somebody to come—” “My love, how can I get somebody at this time of night? I will do what I can .. but if I cant”? “Oh, you must get somebody.” I was so afraid that as people in a fright generally are, I could’nt be reasonable. But he ran out, eager to do the impossible—& I ran in to Wilson, poor thing, who was in bed, with her pulse beating very fast, but a good deal from nervousness, I have been certain, since. Still there was fever enough, & for the rest it was quite natural for her to think of her friends as I did for her—and she told me that ever since the sea voyage (or, for four months) the whole stomach had been swelled .. distended—not a word of which, I had even heard before– But Dr Cook came, & I rushed away—& presently Robert followed to tell me that there was nothing to be uneasy about .. nothing whatever .. but that there would have been something, with a very little more provocation of ‘remedies’. In fact, it is said to be a slight inflammation of the mucus membrane of the stomach, arising primarily from the sea sickness when in a state of indigestion, & further irritated by those English pills, which might have been good in England, but in Italy are too hot. If the symptoms had gone on, it would have ended in a gastric fever, which is crowding the hospitals at this instant, from the combination of hot sunshine & moisture common to the climate—even here in the winter. She was desired to lie in bed & to have five leeches on her side, & Dr Cook comes every morning, & today & yesterday she has been up for half an hour, & appears very satisfactorily relieved. I asked him this morning if there was the least cause for apprehension—“Not the slightest[’]’ was the answer, “she will be quite herself in a day or two.” I asked too (being fearful) whether she could bear without risk the hot weather of Italy .. whether it was safe for her to remain. “Quite safe”, he said, “only she must be careful of her diet, & live in the simplest way”. He forbids coffee altogether .. also wine. He says that she was not well when she left England, .. that the biliary system & organs of digestion were out of order, .. but that everything is coming right quite fast. If the inflammation had extended to the bowels, it wd, of course, have been more serious. Poor dear Wilson! My fright that night, I shall not easily forget .. & to complete the whole, when the rest was over, Robert gave me a tremendous scold for having run to Wilson’s room without any stockings. “I wanted to kill him .. I played with his life &c &c”. Poor me! nobody catches cold, in such a fright as I was! There, now!—I have told my whole history. She is very much better tonight, & in quite good spirits .. & is sure that she was near the same sort of thing in Wimpole Street, but the sea evidently did the great harm. Tell Arabel about the coffee—coffee is considered very bad for weakness of the stomach & digestion– Tea is ordered to be substituted. All this time, I have been perfectly well & active to a miracle– Think of me, dressing myself all these days, doing my hair, attending to everything. Robert being the kindest of possible persons, brings me the tea kettle of hot water, at nights & mornings .. but other assistance I have none—the Signorina has enough to do in waiting on Wilson & preparing our breakfast. The people here have been very kind indeed, & one could not take advantage of it. Of course we would send Wilson home at once if she desired it, but I believe it wd be a disappointment to her, & Dr Cook, who is a very intelligent man in his profession, assures us of the safety of her being here in the warm weather. She has little to do, with us, & is never fatigued, & takes exercise regularly out of doors—& really what has been striking me all this time, is her improved appearance .. looking so much fatter & more rosy. Fallacious signs, I fear!– (Friday morning) Dr Cook has just been here—she is much better & he is not coming again for a day or two. With a little attention to diet, & a good deal of exercise, she is likely to be well for the future. Thank God for all things—and now I may write on.

Thank my own Arabel for the long dear letter which made me so glad some days ago, & enclosed a note from you, dearest Henrietta, to make me gladder still. About the same time I had a most kind one from Mr Martin, from Paris—he is a kind, earnest friend .. & so is dear Mrs Martin! I shall not forget among other things, that at the very first & without waiting to have a word of explanation from me, they wrote to me in the spirit of the fullest faith & esteem. Robert always says that he wd do anything for either of them, .. & indeed we should have been both happy to have seen them here, let Arabel smile as she may! I should like them to know him thoroughly, .. so as to have the evidence of their senses (besides other evidences) that I have done the wisest thing in the world. And now, as to the rest, … Mr Martin’s note pleased me much, by the account he gave of all in Wimpole Street– Oh, let Arabel be sure that I am not irritated against any one of them, & that my whole heart has been open to them from the beginning, to the end, to hold & to love them as ever. Sette’s letter was affectionate, & affectionately responded to by my inner feelings .. only he & they all must understand & feel that it would ill become me in my position, to accept as a personal kindness to me, what refused so emphatically to extend itself to the person nearest to me. If they knew him whom they misknow, how different it would be indeed! a reflection which always arrests me when I am inclined to be vexed for a moment. Let them reflect for their own part .. Why not let the past be past, & forbear on each side every sort of recrimination? They may think on to themselves, or even say out frankly .. “You two have both acted foolishly & rashly, & we do not approve of it on any ground: but inasmuch as the thing is done, & we love our sister & desire to love the man who loves her, here is our hand for you both”—something to that effect might be said without inconsistency & without sacrifice, I fancy—even something more might be said, considering whom I have married, & what an absolute happiness (as far as he is concerned) I have received from him. Give my love to them all, at any rate. It is painful to me, to have been the means of painfulness to any of them–— I did not think that they wd have taken it so. Still they ought to be able to see what every other person of sense, saw in an instant, that to have given them my confidence & have destroyed their prospects in the same breath, would have been an act of the most atrocious selfishness on my part, & impossible to one who loved them as I did & do.

Two things in Arabel’s letter made me uneasy—she refers incidentally to George’s speaking of Storm’s going to Jamaica .. which I hope refers to something long ago .. & not that there is talk now of his going to Jamaica. Oh—if dearest Storm wd but turn his eyes another way .. any other way in the world. Why not come our way, in the Statira? if the Statira proceeds to the Mediterranean this year? Why not image out some new plan of farming, or .. or .. I should not mind what– Now listen .. cant he & George & Sette & Occy go up the Rhine this summer & meet us in the Euganean mountains? By the way, assure Arabel that we have not taken root in Italy for life– Dont let her have such fancies. Seriously, though, we talk sometimes of going to Jerusalem, & we are both to be marked on the arm as pilgrims, whenever we do, that you may not doubt too much our “complete narrative” .. but we shall see you before we see Jerusalem. — The other thing which makes me un<easy> is her account of Mr Boyd. How is he “more infirm”? Has he <had> medical assistance? & did the cold affect him much? Let me <know.>

The Martins saw a great deal in Paris of the Hedleys, & Mr M<artin> observes that dear uncle Hedley “won their hearts”, by the warm affection & interest with which he spoke of me & “Mr Browning”, taking our parts in a strenuous manner. Arabel too is mentioned .. but without a word of her illness. They desire me to write to them at Pau. It was so delightful to hear of my dearest Henrietta & Arabel from their sincere testimony, though I could not help envying a little the beholders of their faces– My own dearest sisters, how I love you & thank you & bless you for all you have been to me! May the hour come when I may be able to give you back a little of the good—the love only, can go to you now. While I am writing, comes an awful interruption, in the shape of Mrs Cook! [4] She is an unpretty likeness, .. though rather a pretty woman even so, .. of Susan Cook .. but very vapid in expression, & weak & commonplace in conversation .. I mean to say, very. She told me however of her intimacy with the Garrows, & how she had had a letter from Miss Fisher [5] two days since. To my astonished ears moreover she revealed, that Pisa was very “gay” just now .. a weekly “reception” at the Governor’s, besides the Baroness .... When Robert came in, I divulged in my turn, where he might go if he pleased, to which he irreverently replied that the Governor & the governed might be hanged first. I have not even returned Mrs Turner’s courtesy in coming here to witness our papers—though I have been once out in the carriage since I wrote to Arabel– We drove down through the pine forest to the sea side, & met the camels & enjoyed it all exceedingly. [6] The carriages are delightful– Wilson & Flush were on the outside. The weather is fine, & if we were on the Arno I might walk out everyday: but as it is the wisdom seems to be on the side of shunning the cold air which waits at our front door. Dr Cook says that even if I did not go out during the winter (which you know I have done) the advantage of being here is incontestable. He himself is in Italy on account of weakness of the chest, many of his family having died of consumption. [7] He says that he could not breathe while he was in England a month ago– Certainly I am very well indeed—better than I could hope to be in the winter. Robert’s love to you & Arabel, whose note quite touched & pleased him, & he shall write to you next time. Love to dear Trippy & to Lizzie, dear child––

Your own attached

Ba

Love to Minny. Speak of Papa always.

Does dear Occy get on with the drawings? Tell me.

Address, on integral page: Angleterre .. via France / To the care of Miss Trepsack / Miss Barrett / 5– Upper Montagu Street / Montagu Square / London.

Publication: TTUL, pp. 26–39.

Manuscript: Camellia Collection.

1. Dating based on notation “Jany 27” (a Wednesday) at the beginning of second paragraph. At that point EBB said that the she had started the letter “last Saturday,” which was the 23rd, and further along she wrote “Friday morning,” which was the 29th. Year provided by postmark.

2. Perhaps Henrietta had reacted to EBB’s comment about Puseyism in the third paragraph of letter 2647.

3. Cf. Horace, Epistles, I, iv, 16.

4. The wife of Dr. Francis Cook.

5. Harriet Fisher (1809–48) was the half-sister of Theodosia Garrow, who later married Thomas Trollope.

6. See letter 2627, note 7.

7. He lived to be 93 years of age.

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