2680. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 14, 214–223.
[Florence]
May 29– 30– [1847] [1]
My own dearest Arabel here I am, writing to you again– Yesterday was Papa’s birthday [2] & made me sorrowful with the recollections of which I had of course a whole heartfull– I could not drink his health though Robert proposed that. I only could pray for him, & think for myself & him that no one in the world has more tenderly loved him than one he has cast off– Has loved him? does still love him, as God knows well. There is no use in talking. To be so cast off is a lasting grief to me, notwithstanding all other sources of happiness: I cannot, as seems easy to some, forget in a moment the beloved of a whole life—and for Papa, my love for him has always been a peculiar thing, and if he had stooped to hold me by a thread, why the thread wd have been strong enough. I would give my life for his .. even now, when my life has acquired a new value– Well—I am glad that yesterday is done with at any rate– And now I shall try to write to you of something else–
We are thinking, Arabel, of a wild, delightful way of spending the summer .. at least of spending some of the summer months .. or weeks even .. for we need not bind our inclinations: we are thinking of going to Vallombrosa. You know, Milton knew, everybody has a degree of knowledge about this place—has seen it between sleep & wake– There is a monastery like an eagle’s nest, in the Apennine, .. in the midst of mountains, rocks, precipices, waterfalls, drifts of snow, and magnificent chesnut forests–
“Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks
Of Vallombrosa.” [3] All from chesnut trees!
The solitude is complete .. a few cottages, & some house of refuge .. no carriage-road within five miles of it. You go in a kind of basket-sledge drawn by oxen, if you cant ride on mules, and in order to any sort of residence, you must have a “permission” from the Archbishop of Florence. The monks wd admit you, upon this, to their interior; but Wilson & I being women, we shd be the ruin of the confraternity of course, & so we must stay outside in the house assigned to meet fair perditions, .. being supplied with food from the monastery– Now what do you think, Arabel? The plan is to me the most exquisite of the hundred we have made. The solitude, the wildness, the coolness—and then the nearness to Florence—for it is within twenty miles, though from the precipitous character of the road, thrown out of the usual casualties of ‘neighbourhood.’ Practically we shall be a hundred miles off, or more– Also, in the case of our being tired or unwell, forthwith we can tumble down the mountains back into Florence—no harm is done. But we shant be tired .. we shall sit & wander in the forests, & do a great deal of writing I hope, & get old books from the monks, & enjoy the change from this present luxurious way of living– I hope I shall have rather a soft sofa, & for other things I dont care a straw [4] now, being well enough to walk on my two feet– Arabel, you wd be surprised to see how transformed I am since even I wrote last. There is a continual moaning & lamenting about the heat .. I cant help moaning .. I cant do a single thing in the way of coherency of ideas .. I read six sentences & fall fast asleep—the thermometer standing at eighty four you will imagine the effect on all breathing beings, Flush included!. But after all, & though going out in the morning to see any sight under the sun is out of the question, I am well & getting fatter & stronger day by day .. and when we drive to the Cascine at six which we do every evening for two hours, .. open carriage, parasol over one’s eyes, .. & as little clothes as possible .. why at one certain little gate we leave our vehicle & walk into the hayfield, & walk & walk .. & watch the pheasants & hear them crow in the woods—Robert was in raptures at my walking as far as I did yesterday, without being in the least tired by it. I am surprised myself indeed– I shd have thought that nobody cd get strong in such a temperature– A most unaccustomed heat say the Italians, for May, .. and they only hope that it does’nt threaten something prodigious—not an earthquake perhaps, but certainly a “burrasca”. [5] In England such heat wd be past supporting– Here the air is elastic, & there is always a breath of wind about six oclock in the evening, which comes to revive us. Earlier we sit with every door open, every window open, every green blind shut fast, in as deep a darkness as can be cultivated. I generally sit in a doorway .. in a confluence of distant doors– The worst is at night. Doors & windows stand wide open then just the same .. but Flush & I cant sleep, & are given to wandering from one room to another– I sleep half the day instead .. so nothing is lost .. as you wd say indeed if you could see me. Nothing lost, except the great sights—but the galleries close at three, and you may conceive the impossibility of going out in the morning– At six, we begin our drive generally by entering some church .. by looking at Masaccio’s frescos, or standing by Michael Angelo’s tomb [6] .. & then proceed to the Cascine which we more & more enjoy– Robert says that the effect of that peculiar scenery, half woodland half suburban, is calming to the nerves—and I think the same. We fall into deep silences which turn to reveries of themselves. Some of the avenues remind me of Cheltenham—the trees take hands over your head & perfectly shut out the sky .. but then, there are depths of wood, & ravishing glimpses of hills, & sometimes the shining river. It is not of course very extensive– I speak more of the influence of the place, & of the impressions you take from it– I have been twice to the galleries .. once to the Pitti, & once to the Ufizzii [sic] .. which is nearly equal to not going at all, so impossible it was to gather in one sight of every thousand.
But the heat .. the heat!– Oh, one cant dare it or bear it– If the weather does not change a little, we must return from Vallambrosa in the autumn (which is our plan indeed) & catch up what we let fall now. The first day, the day of the Pitti, was cool enough—we went there with the Hanfords. Was’nt it curious that we shd go with the Hanfords? The carriage had been ordered the preceding day to be at the door at nine the next morning—& at eight oclock while we were at coffee, (eight in the evening) the Hanfords arrived—were to leave Florence by diligence the evening after, & would go with us to the Pitti gallery. So in the morning we called at their hotel for them, & we took them to the Pitti, & then to Powers’s studio .. & he was kind & cordial & showed us his Greek Slave & Fisher boy, and the Eve yet unworked in the marble .. of which I liked the Eve best & the Fisher boy least, I think– Go to see the Fisher boy & tell me how you like it– Oh, it is beautiful of course .. but less satisfying to my imagination than either the Greek Slave (exhibited in London last year) [7] or the Eve .. though Robert admired it beyond my admiration– The Eve stands in divine unconsciousness of naked beauty—the apple, plucked, in her hand .. plucked but not tasted .. the sadness rather than the impurity of sin is in her face .. just one touch of sadness, .. the foreshadow of all loss– The serpent has his trail about her feet, loosely, not touching them, & looking into her eyes with his eyes of satisfied expectation, having no need to tempt any more, after the first failure. What she has plucked she will taste, he knows. It is very serenely, beautifully sad—the passion is behind a cloud, as it ought always to be in sculpture—& I admired it more for having just seen the Venus of Canova, [8] with her large ringletted head, huddling her drapery round her waist with some suggestion of indecency. But oh, Arabel, the Raffaels of the Gallery!– I shall not speak of them– I cant paint Raffael over again. Divine, divine they are– The Madonna della Seggiola [9] —and the Madonna del Gran Duca, my madonna, which stood on my chimneypiece in Wimpole Street– Oh, that divine child, that infantine majesty—that supernatural penetrating sweetness of the eyes & lips– Raffael understood better than all your theologians how God came in the flesh, “yet without sin.” [10] Divine is the only word for these works– No engraving can give you an idea of them– Another day when we went to the other Gallery & saw the famous Venus, [11] I am almost ashamed to tell you that I was disappointed in the Venus– It produced (to tell you the bare truth) very little effect on me– My own fault I do not doubt—& Robert says that I shall feel differently in a little time: I do hope I shall– You see I was familiar, from drawings, with the attitude .. the turn of the head, the position of the arms .. (such great hands, Arabel!) .. & what was new to me in the whole did not suffice to produce an emotion,—except that I thought, “Here I am face to face with the Venus”—I would rather have that unfinished “Dead Christ & the three Marys” [12] which was the last work of Michael Angelo & struck me so in the cathedral, two days since—how infinitely rather. The work is unfinished .. the marble half awake—but the passionate suggestiveness of what is done there, in the midst of which the artist fell asleep, is to me worth a hundred of such elaborated shining things as that Venus—& I cant help telling you so, indeed.
As I told Henrietta, the Hanfords came to dinner with us after the gallery, & I was .. we were .. much pleased with them both .. especially with Fanny who talked more than her brother, & was very affectionate to me– Mind you see her when you have an opportunity– She would please you: she ought to please you. We siezed upon Mr Hanford as “a witness” to the great “Settlement”, which had arrived a fortnight before & been cast into the cabinet unexamined. An English witness had been recommended: and by no means, let me assure you, was it agreeable to go about soliciting our compatriots in Florence to witness our marriage settlement nearly a year after our marriage––(nine months, Arabel!) There was not the least need of further gossip about us: and it is so delightful to gossip, that nobody would abandon the opportunity, if we let them have it .. of that, we were certain– Mr Hanford’s goodnature made to the rescue, then, just in time– I did not mind him—of course he knew everything from the Martins, long before: & willingly, he said, he wd do anything. So Robert & I when he & Fanny had left us on the first evening, pulled out the Deed from the cabinet (quite large enough to convey all the Rothschild funded properties to all possible generations) & began to look into it a little, because we were told to correct something—some trifle … about a name. (The lawyers told us.) .. (Nothing in the world altogether could be more legal.) It was half past ten oclock, & Robert said .. “Now, Ba, do you lie down on the sofa, and I will read this to you”– “Oh,” I exclaimed, throwing myself down in utter prostration of body & soul, .. “if you read a page of it to me, I shall be fast asleep! .. I give you warning. I feel half asleep already at the very idea of it– I dont pretend to listen—& cant, I assure you. So I shall go to bed, if you please, and you may sit up all night, & read; & I wish you joy of it, & a very good night. I will find you asleep here in the morning, I dare say.” “But my darling, you cant behave in that way …” “But my dearest I can indeed .. It’s your Deed, you will please to remember, yours & Mr Kenyon’s, & not mine by any manner of means. I do a great deal more than I ever meant to do, I can tell you, when I write my name to it as I shall, tomorrow, I suppose—” – Well & how do you think the discussion ended? He would’nt read it either—but “if I wd just stay, we wd draw the ends of our fingers down each page, to find the word we wanted”,.. which I did .. I dont suppose that any legal instrument of the kind was ever signed unread, so, by the male principal? Women may do it—men scarcely ever perhaps– I should have insisted on his reading it, but he had put the business into Mr Kenyon’s hands & resolved to sign whatever might be written—therefore there was not much use in wearying one’s soul with that detestable jargon .. was there? <Then he knew the general purpose, of course.> [13] As for me while we were drawing our fingers down the parchment, oftener than once I had strong temptations to put the whole into the lamp—if it had been my Deed, nothing could have saved it, I assure you– One might laugh at the sixteen children (oh,—a countless progeny rather!) but the “future husbands” were a little strong .. “un peu fort” .. as a legal provision in a marriage-document. Say nothing of all this to dear Mr Kenyon– He has had a great deal of trouble & the best kindest & most generous intention in everything both to Robert & myself—only no possible argument could have induced me to consent to a document of this sort, when I was mistress of my own money & will & opinions– Moreover I think that any woman wd have shrunk from it, if she had respected the man she was <about to marry> [14] in the most vulgar sense. Robert is tied up in his hands & in his feet—but himself has done it—my single consolation.! And now I have to make a will, having the power “in virtue of my marriage-settlement”, and Mr Kenyon advises that I should nominate my husband as sole executor– I would rather make no will & leave it to Robert to fulfil my wishes which he knows already—but he insists on my openly expressing them, .. for generous, characteristic reasons which he gives me, .. & alas lest we shd both die on the same day which is a possible casualty. But after all these provisions, I am a little uneasy, & shall remain so, I fear– He has solemnly assured me that if he survived me he wd instantly throw back the whole into the hands of my family, & upon that single point no word of mine could make the least impression on the resolve he had taken– Knowing him; I know he would do it– I see it as a fixed resolution. And now he refuses to discuss the subject any more– (Say nothing when you write.) Of course I refer only to his lifetime, .. for perfectly I agree with him that the ultimate disposition of money received from my family, should (in the failure of directer heirs) regard my family exclusively– There is a clear justice in that .. which is better than Law– But anything is better you will say, than a dull letter– I think the “public notary” who has been here to witness a “power of attorney” has “infected” me with his odour of parchment– And then the heat .. oh, the heat– You never felt such heat, Arabel! I dont dare to go to church through it—for the church of England has a “pied de terre” [15] here also .. & makes everybody pay sixteen pence .. every individual .. for every service—is’nt it quite shameful? Murray promises the discontinuance of this blot on the Establishment, in his book; but they discontinue nothing, not they! I had hoped to find here some “branch company” of the Scotch church at Leghorn [16] .. hoped in vain: & from what we hear, the Church of England is as ill represented in this Florence as we found it at Pisa! It is a drawback to Italy, you will say, to lose sight of the means of open communion among Protestant Christians—but we must try to open our hearts instead, & enlarge the circle of Christian communion which God sees, larger than we are apt to try to see. In the meanwhile, if dear Mr Stratten were here himself, I could’nt go out to his preaching .. unless he did it “in the cool of the evening,” [17] .. and you couldnt, even .. unless you aspired to St Laurence’s martyrdom on the gridiron– [18] Poor O’Connell! Robert has this moment been saying, “After his troubled, stormy life, just a finger is held up, and the quiet comes”.! I wish they had let him die in England, & not agitated his last hours by the fatigues of quarelling—yet there was a last vote, I suppose, to satisfy: and all was done for the best– Poor O[’]Connell! [19] To go out with the extinction of his people, is a melancholy end– I have felt more for him lately than ever I did, .. more with him– Dearest Stormie will be in despair– By the way we shall have a letter soon, I do trust, to set a crown on the head of the other good news of the safe arrival–
Now while I think of it, let me answer your enquiry into the size of our drawing room—it is twenty four feet by eighteen, and high more than in proportion, with two very large windows– The dining room is smaller, .. & with only one window, .. eighteen feet by twelve .. we use it only for dining. We have been forced to have all the carpets taken up .. there was no bearing the heat of a carpet: so that the rooms are less pretty to an English eye than when we took them first. ‘En revanche’ [20] we keep totally free from fleas, .. next to mosquitos, the pest of the country. The mosquitos have not begun their regular persecutions yet, but there were a few .. & it is a matter of struggle & doubt whether to run the risk of a nocturnal pillage that way, .. or of a nightly suffocation under the mosquito net– My horror of them is fair game for Robert, whom they never bite at all– If our Stormie suffers more heat than we do, it must be ill with him—& I do hope you entreat him in all your letters, as I shall, to take precautions .. to drink only cooling things. It was wrong to arrive in Jamaica just as the great heats were setting in– I am expecting Henrietta’s letter day by day .. I have just heard from Sarianna Browning, .. enclosed in a letter to Robert .. but I wanted one from my very own sisters besides. Not that I mean to reproach you, you Dearests—you are always kind—and I am always impatient, as well you know– You never can (only) write too often. When we are at Vallambrosa our letters will be forwarded to us, so go on directing to Florence, Poste Restante—and understand, O considerate calculator of postages, that we pay less for our letters here than we did at Pisa where the people charged us more or less precisely as they wanted pauls. “Pisani traditori”: [21] I stand by the proverb– We get our letters here about as soon, I think .. but they go through Pisa, always– I have written to Bummy to her lodgings, and hope to hear that she bears up cheerfully under the parting from Arlette, and that she has some more cheerful plan for the summer than a visit to Kinnersley– She hinted to me about their wishing her to join them in the Tours colony .. and that sounds to me feasible & pleasant– But how could the Hedleys take a house for three years at Tours? Nobody sends me the riddle– Ends of œconomy might be compassed equally I should think at a less sacrifice in other ways– Italy cannot be exceeded anywhere for cheapness, be certain– Our “donna di faccenda” [22] (we have a donna who comes for a few hours everyday to make the beds, clean the rooms, brush Robert’s clothes, wash up the cups & saucers &c &c, & give her about six shillings a month for it) our donna was complaining of the price of meat the other day, the best being three pence a pound– It is dearer than usual just now– Then fruit on which the poor live so much, is to be had almost for the asking– We had a dish of excellent cherries the other day for a penny—and presently cherries are to be more than half as cheap again, they say– Figs & grapes are most wholesome nourishment– Think of these advantages for the poor! I think sometimes of our poor, Poor of England, & sigh for them– Robert, in his fits of abstinence, has dined sometimes on three halfpence worth of macaroni—the cooking & serving up & cheese being included. The accounts from England are melancholy indeed, as to the poor! How I have wandered (I observe) from the Hedleys & Tours & the hypothetical œconomy, & now I come back just to prophecy that they never will live out the three years there .. never. Dont forget to tell Mr Bevan of my adventure with his Italian grammar, and of our ‘padrone’ Signor Centofanti .. Francesco Centofanti,—who enquires of him continually, & whom I should like to be able to tell that his favorite master remembers him. [23] We like Centofanti very much, & if we return here from Vallombrosa to see Florence in the autumnal coolness, should like to be in a house of his if we could manage it—besides he is curious in all sorts of spring sofas & chairs & soft cushions .. wherever I sit I sink—and this touches me sensibly. Certainly I think we shall be in Florence in the autumn .. unless we go to Venice .. unless you will let us: and dear Mr Kenyon says that a hundred miles or so should make no difference to him in his journey to see us– Oh, how I wish Papa would send you down the Rhine this year—we wd compass anything to meet you– Go to the Tyrol .. even go into Switzerland, I am sure– George at any rate, had better come & see us in his vacations & “make it up” for once & all, & make me very happy besides– Tell me of Henry—& indeed of them all– How is dear Trippy? Give her my best love always; & say how her landlord goes on. Mention her hands & eyes– We like Florence so much that if we found it possible by the selection of a warm situation, to winter here, we should like that—the beauty on all sides is past speaking of, & the resources most various– Oh, there is no harm of Mrs Young—she mistook—that was all– We were excellent friends at parties. [24] The amusing part was that I was under the delusion that Robert had displeased her and I had reproached him a little for talking of George Sand & abusing Italian literature– But by no means—, he was in the odour of sanctity with her.– [25] Last night (I finish this on the 30th,) we went to the Center of Florence to take ices, everybody being there. It was Florence in an undress, I assure you. Women with short sleeves—& who cd wonder? This at eight oclock after our dinner. Then we came home to coffee– Wilson is much better in spite of the heat, & likes Florence exceedingly– Tell me of Mr Hunter & Mary– Do you ever hear of Eliza Giles—ever? [26] You will wonder how she came into my head—but I want to know if she took any notice of my marriage. May God bless you my dear beloved Arabel– Think & pray for me– Love me—as I love you– Robert’s best love to you & Henrietta– Do write, write!– Has Lizzie come back? Do you see the Cooks? Love all ways– I am
your ever most attached
Ba.
Of course you will write the moment you have a letter from dearest Stormie– I mean to write to him soon—& to think of him in the meanwhile, every day, very anxiously.
Always mention Papa particularly—will you? I wish Emma Monro had been about to marry some one settled in London for your sake—but will she reside always in Devonshire? [27] There may be an alternative settlement I shd fancy–
God bless you dearest Arabel! how I love you!–
Love to dear Minny– I am sorry about Mr Boyd.
Address, on integral page: Angleterre—viâ France / To the care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Arabel Barrett) / 5– Upper Montagu Street / Montagu Square / London.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. His 62nd.
3. Milton, Paradise Lost, I, 302–303. These lines are quoted in Murray’s Hand-Book for Travellers in Northern Italy (1847), p. 583, and EBB’s description of Vallombrosa clearly echoes Murray’s (pp. 582–584).
4. Cf. “ego non flocci pendere” (Terence, Eunuchus, 411, trans. John Sargeaunt).
5. “Storm.”
6. In the church of Santa Croce. The frescoes of the life of St. Peter by Tommaso Masaccio (1401–28) are in Brancacci Chapel in the church of Santa Maria del Carmine.
7. “The Greek Slave” had been exhibited in London in May 1845, and The Athenæum for 24 May 1845, said “the figure in question is certainly a very remarkable work,—and might be thought still more so as the work of an American, were it not remembered that the sculptor has been for ten or a dozen years past resident in Florence” (no. 917, p. 522). The reviewer also commented at length on the nudity of the figure (see letter 2678, note 18). “Eve Tempted” had only been completed in plaster; the marble would not be finished until 1849.
8. In the Pitti Palace; Murray’s Hand-Book describes it as standing in the centre of the “Hall of Flora … upon a pivot, and can thus be turned round by the custode. Her head, owing to the hair being curled and arranged, seems to be too large for her body. When the Venus de’ Medici was carried off to Paris, this statue replaced her in the tribune” (p. 564).
9. Murray’s Hand-Book describes this as “the sweetest of all his Madonnas, if not the grandest” (p. 560), and the Madonna del Gran’ Duca as “a very singular and beautiful picture. It consists simply of the Virgin and Child upon a dark background, almost without any accessories” (p. 563). It had previously been in the possession of Grand Duke Ferdinand III, “who was so pleased with it, that whenever he travelled he took it with him on his journey” (p. 563). Evidently, EBB’s father had owned a copy or print of this famous painting; however, it does not appear in the Christie’s catalogue of the sale of his effects (see Reconstruction, pp. 593–606), nor in a list of paintings made by EBB’s brother Alfred in 1853.
10. Hebrews 4:15.
11. The Venus de Medici; see letter 2669, note 2.
12. Murray’s Hand-Book explains that “behind the high altar is a group of Joseph of Arimathea, the Virgin and another Mary, entombing the body of our Lord, left unfinished, by Michael Angelo … It is said that he worked at this group during the later years of his life, intending to have it placed upon his tomb” (p. 487).
13. Bracketed sentence is interpolated above the line.
14. EBB has written the phrase in angle brackets above the word “married,” which she has crossed out.
15. According to Murray’s Hand-Book, “Divine service is performed every Sunday at 11 in the morning, and 3 in the afternoon, in a new church situated nel Maglio, at the back of S. Marco. It was built by subscription, and opened in Nov. 1844. A debt is charged on this church which it is hoped the liberality of travellers will soon discharge. Persons wishing to engage seats for any period, should apply at the church every Saturday from one till three o’clock. The price of admission is 3 pauls. This charge was made at the doors, but was about to be discontinued, and the contributions left to the generosity of those frequenting the church, and who had not taken sittings for a fixed period” (p. 477).
16. See letter 2656, note 6. There was no Presbyterian Church in Florence at this time; however, one was eventually established, and the service was “performed on Sundays, in the morning in French, and in the evening in English, at the Swiss Church, next the Casa Schneiderf, on the Lungo” (Francis Coghlan, Handbook for Travellers in Northern Italy, 1856, p. 169).
17. Cf. Genesis 3:8.
19. The Irish politician Daniel O’Connell (1775–1847) had left England on 22 March 1847 for Italy, as opposition within his own ranks weakened his already failing health. He reached Genoa on 6 May where he died nine days later. Although his heart was embalmed and carried to Rome, where it is entombed in the Church of St. Agatha according to his wishes, his body was returned to Ireland and buried in Dublin.
20. “In return,” or “on the other hand.”
22. “Housekeeper.”
25. i.e., all is well. EBB is referring to an old tradition that the bodies of saints, or saintly people, give off a pleasant odour at the time of death.
26. Eliza Wilhelmina Giles (née Cliffe, 1810–48) was EBB’s neighbour and correspondent from Hope End days. In her Diary entry for 16 November 1831, EBB recorded that “Eliza had stated that I wd. not marry an angel from Heaven” (p. 180).
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