2697. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 14, 288–295.
[Florence]
August 29– [1847] [1]
This very day I had my dearest Henrietta’s letter and I lose no time in beginning to write back again—and now it must be to you my best own Arabel .. although it always seems to me more natural to answer the speaker, than to speak triangularly, in the fashion we generally do. Quoth Henrietta to Ba “so & so”: quoth Ba to Arabel “so & so”. Still as we say to encourage each other .. “it’s the same thing when a letter comes who is written to” .. and it is much the same thing: and also, have I not your little note to answer? let me remember all my duties. As Henrietta observes too, it was a little note filled up to the brim & worthy of especial thoughtfulness– As to the great letter today, directed to the Palazzo Guidi, it came to me while Robert was at the post looking for letters addressed to Poste Restante, and scarcely I could believe my own eyes when I saw it– He came back presently—“Where’s my letter, pray?” (I had calculated that there must perforce be a letter for me that morning.) “Why, Dear– I am sorry to say that there are no letters–” “Yes, but my particular letter from Henrietta: there must be a letter for me.” “Indeed there is not. I looked through all the letters myself and I can answer positively” .. “And I feel positive too– I feel as certain, .. as certain as can be .. that there’s a letter from Henrietta for me by this morning’s post. I think that for once, you have made a mistake”. —He laughed .. laughed .. and said that nothing was more amusing than my positiveness … “Why Ba, what have you got in your head”. Whereat I answered triumphantly, “Say, rather, what have I got in my pocket” .. and pulled out my document & held it close to his eyes. But for the future tell Henrietta & yourself to direct as usual “Poste Restante” because it is safer on several accounts, one being that the accomplished postman cant read .. has stopped Robert twice in the street to beg him to interpret this & that direction written as plainly as the campanile against the sky—and as he goes to the post office every morning, it is best to let him have the letters there– By the way, mind you write oftener. On the twentieth of September we go—and shall have to wait till we get to Rome—after that date. So before it do be generous & let me hear. I do delight so in these letters—ah, if you ever think that I could be happy without them under the most sunshiney circumstances God could plant me in, you are three times wrong– It is a great mistake to fancy that being married can undo the past & make those you once loved less loved than ever .. oh no. I seem to love you all more dearly than ever on the contrary. So write oftener before the twentieth—there’s my moral!—— I dont know exactly what we shall do on the twelfth. Have knead cakes perhaps? or a larger water-melon than usual .. or we shall think of something better, I dare say. Being sunday, it’s difficult—and saturday, Arabel, is not by any means the same thing. Before the year which that day brought in, I could not have believed to any one’s swearing that a married life was so happy a thing .. so purely happy. We must take care to behave discreetly before <the Reynoldses> [2] at Rome, & appear to hate one another with a due decency—oh, & we shall, of course. For my part, I always did, you know, hate & detest, those public expressions of affectionateness, and Robert hates them too——only it is my humble opinion, nevertheless, that before a cousin & intimate friend like Arlette, Mr Bevan might have been allowed to call his wife “Darling” without an observation. It was not highly improper, even in the presence of a stranger– Why how can you ask me to like <Mr Reynolds> after all this? What does he allow Arlette to call him, I wonder, without “turning her out of doors?” Ah, well—too much tenderness cannot be as a fault, I think, in a compact of the nature of marriage: nobody ever complained of being too tenderly treated in that relation, at least. It is not a relation for mere civilities & cordialities of next-door neighbours—it is something nearer than that, or worth nothing– Be sure that Arabella’s lot is brighter a thousand times than Arlette’s, though she does without the Brougham & phaeton. Robert said today, “I wish the Bevans were going to Rome instead of the <Reynoldses>. I am sure I should like Mr Bevan.” So we dont discharge him for discharging his servant, bid Henrietta know, though altogether that act of his seemed & seems to us wrong & illiberal, notwithstanding her apology. How good & kind he must be to Arabella—how he has justified his professions before marriage! how it does one’s heart good to hear of such goodness!– Give my love to them both. May their anxieties be soon happily over! Perhaps the unusual heat may have helped to increase her indisposition—is it supposed to? To have her mother with her will be great comfort & happiness, of course. Tell me of the dear Hedleys when they come– Tell dear Henrietta that it is not at all on the ground of its being an act expressive of “ill-will” that I ventured to blame Mr Bevan for discharging his servant; I do not doubt that he meant it in all goodwill & benevolence, on the contrary .. that is .. that he meant well by the person discharged .. I blamed him on other grounds & on these .. namely, .. that we have no right to exact unity & agreement in matters of religion among the members of our household, & especially on what she calls herself “minor points.” If God leaves his people at liberty to differ on such points, by what right do they refuse one another such liberty? Supposing that I sent Wilson away for not agreeing with me on this or that point of conscience, would dear Henrietta blame me or not? She ought, in any case, to blame me, I think. All persecution arises from such exactions, and if you admit the principle, it carries you to the Inquisition.
By the way, see what a Pope we have, & how bravely he is doing his work! The other evening there was a great shouting & crowd which drew us to the balcony—and we heard that the whole populace were gathered in the piazza Pitti opposite the palace to entreat the Grand Duke to grant them a civic guard as the Pope had granted at Rome. This is the way the popular feeling is expressed, here in Italy. It is said that the Grand Duke will grant it. [3] He means well but is timid. Did I tell you how our carriage-wheel was almost locked in his, some weeks ago, and we had the honour of a great stare, & salutation– Hat taken off most absolutely. He has a good frank face, much care-worn, & looks greyer than his years, being scarcely fifty yet. The new royal baby [4] has given occasion to various festivities, and Wilson met the wet nurse the other morning driven out gently to exercise like a milch-cow. A word which reminds me of grass & freshness, so I will tell you that we have had rain & are suddenly in the cool; and I have condescended to dress myself & signify to Robert that I was ready to walk out with him wherever he liked– If you were to see how pleased he is when I can walk out with him! nothing seems to delight him so:—and he was to choose the walk for himself—and he chose the Boboli gardens & took me to see a part of them I had not seen, the great fountain, surrounded with the famous nudities which overwhelmed Wilson at her first arrival at Florence .. and then we went into the arbour-walks, with lattices cut out of the deep green, showing glimpses of the Appenines, of Fiesole, of olive grounds grey against the hills: altogether it was delightful. The wind was as fresh as a night English wind, only softer; and the sun rather shone than scorched. Also in those shadowy walks, there was no need of a parasol. Robert carried mine, and then we sate down on the marble benches & talked of everything in Heaven & earth & Wimpole Street especially. The worst was that Flush could not come with us. The barbarians of the Boboli gardens do not admit dogs. Here in Italy they are civilized enough to let dogs into their churches, .. but into their gardens, no I thank you. Robert & I have various controversies on the church-question, because, notwithstanding permission & custom, he hates to take Flush into a church, whereas I, you know, like to take him everywhere– The fact is, that Flush has, it must be confessed, a way of walking straight up to the High Altar & performing his devotions thereat, which is scarcely orthodox, & might be objectionable to the faithful—Robert declares that he is in an agony the whole time … “My darling, you dont see other dogs behave so”.— (Ah yes!—my darling! Just so! You see what personal reasons I have for protesting against the Reynolds-theory, .. seeing that just that word is his very favorite .. or sometimes it is “my little darling”, which of course wd be considered twice as disgusting.) Flush is a sort of Luther, & “protests” more vigorously than gracefully– I must tell you what an illusion he fell into however, on the subject of water-melon. He saw one cut into slices, which being very red, he took it into his head could only represent slices of underdone beef; and dashed up against my knee, entreating with eyes coming out from under his ears, that I wd give him some instantly! I acceded & he swallowed down a great piece without a moment’s consideration—dreadful to be so deceived! slowly & mournfully he retreated with his tail between his legs & nothing more to be said– He never has asked for another slice. Talk of water-melon, & here it comes! Wilson brings me in a “small one” for our home consumption, a yard (except two inches) round, & price five pence halfpenny, .. which will last us five days (for dinner & supper) though Robert is a frightful consumer of it, eating it on so large a scale that only by experience I am satisfied that the excess will not hurt him … he who scarcely eats anything else! We keep it in ice, & it is not like other melons .. it is not indigestible, I should think, and is much the more agreeable fruit besides. This which Wilson brought me in, I tried in vain to carry. I could just with all my strength lift it up. She is better, poor Wilson!– The lump is not to be felt now, & so it could only have been flatulency .. but there is a tendency to obstruction in the side, & exercise & diet are not sufficient to obviate the need for strong medecines. Sir Charles Herbert [5] says that her eyes and nails are of a better colour, & that he will soon set her to rights– If it had been myself I would not have gone to him .. I wd have kept to the old prescriptions .. & walked more & eaten still less .. but I advised her to go to him of course, for she gets nervous .. and so do I, shrinking from the responsibility– The swelling she had at Pisa is gone, and she has looked as well as any one could look throughout our residence at Florence until quite lately, and in my own mind I do attribute the whole return of evil to that detestable bread at Vallombrosa which was enough to upset any delicate digestion. How well it was that we were kept from staying there, after all! Our disappointment was a “blessing in disguise” as usual & only that. Did I, when I mentioned Carlyle’s letter, tell you that he suggested our going to live at Chelsea near him, when we went to England? At the same time he said, that he felt inclined towards Italy himself .. towards coming out here, as Robert had suggested. I have heard from Miss Martineau & she wrote one side of Mr Kenyon’s sheet, & invited us in the kindest words to visit her at the Lakes. Now did I tell you that before? The other day Robert met in the street Mr Irving. [6] He had just come from Pisa & was going back for a day or two but “on his return would call directly on us”. Mr Powers we see sometimes & like better & better. Never was a simpler man of genius in a better sense. He is meditating a statue of Franklin with uplifted hand plucking down the lightning .. and Robert in the flash of a moment gave him a motto, in a Latin line by a Frenchman, which he translated so “He snatched the bolt from Heaven, the badge from Kings.” [7] Mr Powers, quite delighted, said he would engrave both Latin & English on the base of his statue.
August 31. Wilson is much better, I am happy to say, since I began this letter– In the former part of it I begged you, Arabel, to write often while we were at Florence, and now on calculation it appears that you have time to send me only one more letter—the more vexatious for me! .. & that to reach me it must be posted on the next day to the day on which you read what I write– I beseech you to let me have therefore, the one letter I can receive– Write instantly– Also, let the first letter which you write to Rome be written on a single sheet of paper, without envelope. To my horror & consternation Robert brings up before my eyes an idea which I struggle against receiving, about the postage-regulations in Rome on this head– He fancies, in fact he has seen in a newspaper, that enclosures are not permitted in the Roman post—a fact, which if a fact, draws, to my mind, a permanent mist over the Seven Hills. He says that you must write oftener to us .. that is all! Yes! but nothing makes amends for my delightful thick packets, and the inconvenience on every account is great– I dont believe his newspaper authority, .. and indeed he & I had a regular quarrel about it last night, at the end of which we begged each other’s pardon. He declared that never in his life, had he seen me so angry—and “was it his fault if the Roman postoffice was different from this at Florence?” Why certainly it was’nt his fault, and if really I was angry, the more foolish I ..! but I dont think I was angry, exactly, with him—and I agreed at last to tell you; and if it is a mistake (which I cant help still hoping) I will tell you again the contrary. In the meantime, let the first Roman letter be written on as large a sheet as you can find– I hate, too, writing on those great sheets. Robert says that I dont believe it, just because I dont like it– Well, we shall see. I shall send you another Florentine letter before we leave Florence and he will enquire in the interim, so that perhaps I may be able to tell you something prior even to the Roman experience; but, if not, hold yourselves warned. We talk confidently of living on the top of the Tarpeian Rock, precisely as if we had taken the apartment already– A capital place for blowing soap bubbles!—and we have’nt yet blown ours. Florence is too public, rather. It will be grand & philosophical to send bubble after bubble over the ruins of old Rome—wont it?– We shall go on the twentieth of September, if everything goes smoothly besides—if I am well & prepared to travel .. for it would be easy to delay the journey for a month in case of its seeming better on any ground to do so– I am very well now .. only being made of doubtful stuff speculative people & cautious people take occasion from me for doubting this or that .. I only know that I am very well indeed. Also, we mean to travel very quietly & slowly, & eschew every sort of fatigue. The day after the Boboli gardens excursion, we went to the Museum close by, [8] to see the famous waxen preparations of plants .. the most beautiful & curious in the world—also the waxen representation of the plague, .. which I hesitated rather to see & sickened in the seeing .. it is so ghastly & dreadful!—only, being on a minute scale, the horror is idealized away to a safe distance. The anatomical exhibition, also in wax, Robert would not let me see—nor did I desire it, for various reasons—though women are admitted indiscriminately, & the Italians come in crowds. I meant to write to Mr Boyd today– Give him my love if you see him before I send his letter. Think of Miss Mitford having taken back K___!! She says that she never has had a happy day since she parted with her, & now is entirely satisfied, & hopes that I shall forgive her for being so. Of course it is matter of feeling– For my part, it wd be most painful to me to have close to me a person in whom I could not reasonably place the least confidence or faith. As to repentance & reformation, I hope the grounds for believing in them are good grounds—but I remember too vividly how after floods of tears, the woman sinned & sinned .. I cannot think that dear Miss Mitford has done well or wisely. It was such a flagrant case .. such a compound iniquity!– But the thing is done, & though I have let her see that I could not sympathize in any way in the doing, there was no use in making reproaches & I have not made them. She has been suffering from rheumatism, poor Miss Mitford, and on that account, changed her London-plan, & has been seeing her friends at dinner in the country instead, & enjoying herself, she says, a good deal. How glad I am that <Emma Margary> [9] appears happy. Ah, Arabel!—yes!– You know my thought about a “first husband”– There was a grateful sort of affectionateness in that case, but as little love proper as might be– I do not doubt that she may not easily be happier in the new position than in the old. Give her my affectionate congratulations. Mr <Margary> is probably a stronger[-]headed man than <Mr Monro> was, and if a warm heart enters into the composition, why there is more stuff to hold by,—for an impulsive, vivacious woman like <Emma>– I dare say they wont live very long at a distance from London. Does Alfred complain & fear for the Great Western in the general panic about railroads as constaté [10] in the newspapers. Hearing of it I fear a little for him– Tell me if he considers his prospects as good as ever– Something too is said of drought in the West Indies? I trust dear Storm is not thirsting for the watercourses. Are his bees the makers of golden honey for him? Never forget to mention anything relating to Stormie. It is delightful to hear of George looking well after his labours in the country. As to Henry, bid him be of good courage & look out steadily for occupation: he will get it in time, be sure– Occy .. and Sette the barrister at law .. whose marriage, did we see or not the other day announced, ..? S. Barrett Esqre, barrister at law– Tell me of dearest Papa always– I wonder if really & in his heart, he does not love me now—while I love him so unchangeably– If he does not, .. God judges betwixt us two, which of us has loved the other best!–—— But it makes me giddy to look back & speak of the past, & of the present in reference to it. Tell my dear Henrietta that I took it into my head she wrote her last letter, being out of spirits, & that that, I really cannot permit—there is no reason for being out of courage & spirits, and to be unreasonable is to be very, very naughty– I wish Papa would send you all out of town as he did last year– She does not seem to care much for it, but it would do you all good, I think .. lift you up & turn your faces round into the light & sunshine– At any rate, do make Tripp, (dearest Trippy, give her my love) do make Trippy go. It is necessary for Trippy to have change of air. Do persuade her to go somewhere. You, my dear, dear Arabel, are going to Tunbridge to the Strattens, did you not say something of it? and you mean to have a pic nic in some quarter of the world, according to your announcement– Florence is a city & so is London; but Florence is not like London, I can assure you– If you were to see the moonlight dripping down the wall of our grey San Felice—and how presently we stand knee-deep in it; on our own terrace. Such moonlight—such a divine, still air!—— The worst of Florence is the noise. I do believe that the people never sleep at night except by the merest accident– The whole of the night they are walking & talking under my windows, and laughing & singing … what Flush may call singing & music perhaps, for aught I know– Robert says that at Rome it will be very different, to which I answer that I hope it will be as different as possible– London-noise is nothing in comparison– The streets here, observe, are all narrow—and paved all over with flat <***>
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Year determined by EBB’s references to the Brownings’ plans to travel to Rome for the winter.
2. The name has been obliterated here, and in two places below, by someone other than EBB.
3. Leopold II (1797–1870), Grand Duke of Tuscany (1824–59), granted a civic guard on 4 September 1847, and the public celebration that followed occurred on 12 September, the first anniversary of the Brownings’ marriage. For EBB’s description and account of the occasion, see letters 2701 and 2703.
4. Ludwig (1847–1915) was the ninth child of Leopold II and his second wife Maria Antonia (1814–98).
5. Charles Lyon Herbert (1784–1855) was one of the “excellent English physicians” practicing in Florence at this time (Murray’s Hand-Book for Travellers in Northern Italy, 1847, p. 476).
7. “Eripuit cœlo fulmen, mox sceptra tyrannis”—cf. “eripuitque Iovi fulmen viresque tonandi et sonitum ventis concessit,” Manilius, Astronomica, I, 104, which has been attributed to the French statesman and economist Anne Robert Jacques Turgot. The line was used as an inscription on the statue of Franklin by Houdon in 1778. Powers had accepted a commission for a statue of Franklin in 1843, for which he used a copy of a cast by Flaxman of the Houdon bust of Franklin. This and other study materials were sent to Powers some time in 1847 by his friend Richard Henry Wilde. Wilde was unsuccessful in raising the necessary subscription for the statue, and it was not until 1858, when Wilde received a commission from the United States government, that he completed the model. There are two marbles of this statue: one in the Senate wing of the United States capitol building, and another in the Benjamin Franklin Senior High School in New Orleans (Richard P. Wunder, Hiram Powers: Vermont Sculptor, 1805–1873, 1991, II, 150–152). Neither of these, nor any of the busts of Franklin completed by Powers after Flaxman’s cast in 1848 and 1849, bears the inscription suggested by RB.
8. The Museo di Storia Naturale, where, according to Murray’s Hand-Book, “the models in wax are interesting. The more ancient by Zummo, a Sicilian, who executed them for Cosmo III, principally represent corpses in various stages of decomposition. The others are, more strictly speaking, anatomical, and display every portion of the human body with wonderful accuracy” (p. 565).
9. Emma Monro (née Russell), widowed the year following her marriage to Theodore Monro, had recently married Peter John Margary (see letter 2672, note 15).
10. “Observed.”
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