2711. EBB to Henrietta Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 14, 329–337.
Florence.
November 23 & [2]4 [1847] [1]
As it seems to be my most ungrateful & incredible habit to neglect thanking you for your letters, let this begin by a heap of thanks, my own dearest Henrietta, for the last dear one, & for the promise of Arabel’s, with Mr Boyd’s which I shall expect day by day. I cant understand how it was that I did not mention her letter & yours—but if either had not been received, you would have been sure to have heard of that ‘in thunder lightning & in rain’– [2] As it is, I rather am apt to grumble. You dont write often enough—oh not half! Just consider that there are two of you, & that I am sometimes a whole month without a line– Is it fair? Now consider. Ought I to be longer than ten days at furthest without hearing? Henry too might write to me sometimes .. tell dear Henry that from me. When I think that he has written, it’s a great comfort & joy. As to other things, Henrietta, it is like your affectionateness to say such & such words: but it is easier (forgive me) to say them, than to take them up as a creed as you expect me to do … if you expect it. Many exceed me in much .. but I do pretend to know what love means—and I know that it does not mean a mere sunshiney aspect while a person happens to please you in everything– If you committed a murder & were sent to Newgate, I should be at your side the next hour, if the thing were possible—that is what I mean by loving you– Much more, if you chose to wear a peach coloured gown while I thought green more becoming to you, would I take your hand in the street as warmly as if you had chosen the green. Much more, if you had run against me in the dark, meaning not to hurt me, would I hasten to prove to you that I did not mean to give you pain by disbelieving your assertion to such an effect. So you see that whichever way some circumstances are considered, an obvious conclusion from them can scarcely be altered. Not that I shall refer further to it– Only dont misuse words, my own dear Henrietta. That you love me, has been most perfectly proved—and that I love them all in the house you live in, besides loving you, with a natural grateful love, I hope not to have disproved throughout my life .. not voluntarily at least, & with my eyes open persisting in the act– May God bless them all, & you! You do not mention Papa except incidentally. I want to know if he kissed you & Arabel when you went away & returned, so mind to tell me faithfully. Aunt Jane will have left England, I fear, before my letter can reach her. The “other trustee” is Mr Arnould, the barrister—an intimate friend of Robert’s. Oh, never mind the wills, dearest Henrietta!—nobody will die any sooner because of will-making, unless it is through being teazed into making it– What vexed me a little, was having to take a stranger (Mr Chorley) as executor, when one of my brothers would have acted so much more naturally in a mere family matter—and if Henry’s letter had come rather sooner .. but there’s no use in this talking, & after all it’s of no great consequence .. none, except as a matter of feeling. Mr Kenyon is trustee, but declined the executorship on account of not being young enough. Now let me look about for something to tell you. Robert came in from his walk the other evening with an “Ah, ha! I have been kissed by somebody since I saw you last.” I suppose he meant to make me dreadfully jealous; instead of which I was siezed with the most absurd, supernaturally absurd idea in the world, .. for actually it came into my head that you and Arabel were in Florence .. Arabel at any rate!—yes, I thought it was Arabel! Let that sublime touch of absurdity prove how much I think of you! Robert seeing me quite gasp for breath, hastened to explain that it was only his haunting friend, Father Prout,—who spending an hour or two in Florence on his road to Rome, of course met Robert, & kissed him in the street, mouth to mouth, a good deal to his surprise. Father Prout, always very cordial, enquired about me with solicitude, reiterated his regret at my veil being down at Leghorn, keeping from him the light of my countenance, & refreshed all Robert’s regrets about Rome by explaining how he could have housed us with a purple cardinal for nothing & introduced us into any Italian society we pleased to select. Meanwhile he is to send us from Rome a letter of introduction to our Grand Duke’s librarian of the Pitti, Count Groberg, [3] who is said to be a learned man & will give us access to men & books here. Father Prout was in too great haste, to go home with Robert & see his unveiled prophetess,—so Robert went with him into a coffee house & helped him into the diligence afterwards. Then we had a visit a few evenings since .. from Miss Boyle again. She came at half past eight & stayed till eleven .. keeping us up against all precedent [4] .. & was very agreeable & kind, and took sandwiches and offered (she also) Count Groberg, who is a friend of hers. I like her– She expresses her “high-breeding” with an amusing sort of restiveness. Robert who knows & remembers everything just at the right moment, quoted a passage out of a quaint work by Robert Boyle her famous ancestor, [5] & just stopped himself in time from a reference to the thieving propensities of her grandmother Lady Cork– She in the utmost goodhumour, caught up the abandoned hint & did not suffer us to languish over the said traditions, relating how her grandfather’s horses & port were abstracted feloniously, with other interesting particulars– “Did you never know her, Mr Browning? I wonder you did’nt.” Robert & Miss Boyle had the talking all their own way, and I the listening, which was better worth while.
So, Henrietta, you call me “sly” about Gerardine! Ah, but it was’nt my secret, observe, & then there has been such fuss & tribulation on the point up to this moment that I could’nt guess how it was to end. Gerardine when she travelled with us last year was only seventeen, & childish & unformed in many ways, though a most intelligent & quick-minded child, & from her education full of poetical taste & association. Mrs Jameson who adored her, complained of her in the same breath .. and Robert was given to making side-comments in my ear about that creature “as pure as the angels” who “could’nt be trusted to walk down a street by herself lest she should run away with the first man at the corner.” In fact there were exaggerations in dear Mrs Jameson’s thoughts about Geddie, .. who was just a pretty accomplished, gentle little girl, with some want of high motive & of comprehended duties .. thinking how to please herself, and loving “aunt Nina” in a sort of indolent fashion, (enough to wish to please her too, if it could be done without much exertion) .. but who was no more fitted to be what Mrs Jameson desired, a laborious artist, than to fly up to heaven like a lark. For ever & ever there were discussions about Gerardine’s indolence, who had been besought to do this drawing or that, instead of which she lay in bed in the morning & played with Flush at night– She is such a gentle, caressing little creature, that I felt myself drawn to her side; and I used to make heaps of excuses for her, for which she used silently to kiss my hands– And yet Mrs Jameson was rightly displeased very often—and there was no concealing that after having devoted herself & her means to the education of this niece, .. bringing her out to Italy at her expense, & ministering to her enjoyment in all ways .. she had a claim to attention & obedience, even had her wishes been less reasonable than they were. But there was a want of steadiness in the management– If Gerardine looked pale, she was set on her pedestal directly & adored—and then when the colour came back, she was scolded a little .. & so on. Mrs Jameson was like a fond mother—(Geddie at least ought to love her) and Robert took the liberty so often of telling her what he took to be the truth in a very blunt fashion, & also what “he should do if he had the misfortune of having a wife like Gerardine” .. (which was’nt by any means an agreeable form of sympathy to Mrs Jameson, though it gave Robert an occasion of showing a wonderful quantity of ferocity & savage determination) that I was half nervous with the discussion– Poor Mrs Jameson used, then, to turn round into abrupt comments on her charming qualities, & observe how three men out of every five would be in love with her forthwith .. “Oh not you, Browning, of course! I am aware that under no possible circumstances, she could have been calculated to please you—I only speak of ordinary men &c &c”– Received in profound silence, & with a little push against me under the table, which meant “Did you ever hear anything so absurd? no never”. And it was rather absurd to be sure, seeing that Gerardine is just pretty & no more at most .. only Mrs Jameson’s fond affection which is the root of all, is not a thing to smile at but to love her for– She feels like a mother. Well—they left us & went to Rome, and when on their return we had them as our visitors here at Florence, a catastrophe had taken place .. poor Geddie had completed her offences by falling in love with a bad artist,! [6] an unrefined gentleman,!! a Roman catholic! (converted from Protestantism!) a poor man!! with a red beard!!! whatever Geddie could mean by it was what Mrs Jameson in her agony could’nt divine. “The truth is,” said she to me, “the dear child who never thought in her whole life before of love & marriage, had it all put into her head at once by the sight of your & Browning’s happiness—oh I see it, I understand how it was”. So Robert & I were to have the blame of Geddie’s falling in love, observe. I opened my eyes in considerable embarrassment .. certainly it was’nt my “pattern in the mount” [7] which had been adopted by Gerardine, according to Mrs J’s own description: but I agreed to “speak to Geddie”, & I did my best. Only Geddie’s reading was very different, of her hero’s qualities. “So good & generous! & handsome too! and likely to be a good artist when he tries .. (draws very well already!)—likely to turn back again from being a Roman Catholic—left off smoking just to please Aunt Nina & was very firm.” Geddie had made up her heart, it was plain, .. and the great scene we had, in the course of which I was very, very sorry both for her & Mrs Jameson, produced no practical effect whatever on either side. When they returned to England, first I heard that everything was broken off, “Geddie being considered much too young” by her parents,—and then came a letter from herself to say that all was right again & that she was very happy. Poor little thing, I do hope she may continue so with the best reasons. I have a strong opinion of course on the right & righteousness of a woman’s abiding by her own choice in marriage—but then, Gerardine is, to my mind, scarcely a woman yet—has had no experience of men or women, & just gives herself away to the first asker, .. who may be a good man nevertheless, .. I say nothing to the contrary. Father Prout speaks well of him—only he is Father Prout’s convert, & that’s a matter of course therefore—& I do think with her refinement of habits & associations, it is rather surprising that she should have been attracted where, according to Mrs Jameson, there is no corresponding refinement. Mrs J. said that he was unpolished in his manners, & seemed unaccustomed to the society of women. Then a catholic convert is more objectionable than a catholic by birth—so it seems to me. Mind you repeat nothing of this—I wont be “sly” any more as you reproach me for it, but you mus’nt mention these things, nor appear to Mrs Jameson as if you had been told of them too particularly. He is of a good Scotch family, .. but as to present position, we fancy that he is rather a picture-dealer than an artist. Mrs J. says he never can be a good artist—she undervalues his abilities much & laments that “her child should be lost to her”. “He never can be a friend of mine”, she repeats. Altogether I am sorry—but it may turn out better than the outside promises. They have broken gold, & Geddie has sent him her picture—& next summer he goes to England to marry her & take her to live at Rome–
Tell me .. where are the Reynolds’s? They must have passed through Florence, I should imagine, by this time. Neither of them nor of the Lyndsays have we seen the least sign—and oh, Henrietta, how could you send me that bag? It is quite too bad & too kind of you, and I shall have to put my head into it when I get it, to hide the blushes of shame. Dreadful, dreadful, about poor Mr Deffell! [8] What selfishness there is, in a man’s choosing to put himself beyond his cares by inhaling prussic acid, .. and what childishness to have such cares as those pitiable ones about money!– Tell me if you see the daughters. The sons seem not to feel it too much. Indecent, indeed! Perhaps the unfortunate mother & daughters may be now drawn a little together: it has struck me that the whole family are “somewhat to seek” in natural affectionateness– They stand off from one another like the points of a triangle. How different from .. the Bayfords, for instance! Quite delighted I am to hear of dearest Trippy’s being so comfortably settled again– Kiss her dear cheeks for me, if you please, and the lips, too, .. and tell her that before I am spoilt on both sides like a thoroughly spoilt apple, I hope to do it myself. Robert was vexed a little with me for “telling all about the house”—and really all he thought about it was his fear & trembling lest I should be taken ill & die before we could tumble out of it fast enough. As to reproaching me, the idea of the possibility of such a thing never entered his mind. He is perfect to me .. that’s the only word to be used. And if I were to tell you every little thing in prose & rhyme, [9] you could not understand the whole of what I mean when I say so, without standing by & seeing & hearing for yourselves. One of the happy results is, that I never am afraid of doing or saying what could by possibility displease him .. in other words, he cant be displeased by whatever I may do or say, .. so that I am at liberty to talk out aloud all the ‘bêtises’ [10] that come into my head. I talk as I should to you .. or a little more freely if that be possible –. there is not the thinnest shadow of constraint between us– It is a great comfort to be able to think & speak together at every moment of the day, & when I remember how different it must be in most other tête à têtes of the kind between men & women, I hope I thank God for it, with some, however inadequate, gratitude. Such nonsense as is spoken in this room, to be sure,! Flush opens his eyes halfway & then shuts them & goes to sleep on the dignified conviction of being able to do it a little better if he tried!– I tell my dreams even, and have visions of letters in the candle according to Wilson’s instructions—and now & then we take to a little sense by way of change .. only it seems to me that Robert would rather hear the nonsense, of the two, because he accepts that as a sign of my being in spirits, .. and then, the thing most delightful to him is the liberty between us .. the absence of embarrassment & restraint. If I wanted to offend him I should do something in the way of respect & obedience.—— Now I will tell you .. The other day he said to me .. (in relation to Flush or some equally weighty subject I think it was .. ) “I do wish, Ba, you would’nt do so or so”. To which I answered .. “Well—I wont do it any more”. Was ever a more unexceptionable answer,?—yes, and it was meekly delivered too. But he did’nt like it at all, nevertheless, & cried out quite quickly—“Dont say such words to me, Ba”—“Why what ought I to say then?”—“Say that you will do as you please as long as you please to do it”. So you see what a difficult position mine is .. you see!—— My vow of obedience is only appealed to on great occasions, such as finishing a mutton-chop, or cutting one more slice of bread & butter .. & it’s almost a pity that so much good vowing should have gone for almost nothing. Oh, of course we shall be glad to see the Tulks untulked, [11] if they care to come to see us—only unless they live close by they must accept Robert’s visits for mine. I hope Sophia may be more in the right about her husband than Mary Minto—&, by the way, give my love to Mary & ask her why she does’nt come to Florence at once as she talked of doing. Mrs Minto would like Italy as well as she did France .. I mean there are no drawbacks such as she may fear; & I wonder they dont come at once. We would take rooms for them & cheaply. It surprises us a little that the Duke of Lucca’s chamberlain should choose Florence as his retiring-place—he will not be popular with us Tuscans, .. of that he may be very sure. [12] We had a festa on last monday week, the day of St Leopold, the name-day of our Grand-Duke [13] —& our piazza was nearly brimming over with people. A beautiful sight, really! He had gracefully solicited the civic guard to replace for that day his usual military attendance,—and, as gracefully, the civic guard sent for this purpose all their nobles, .. so that the very sentinels on duty at the palace-doors were marquises or dukes—Graceful on both sides, was it not? The service extended of course to four & twenty hours, and the nobles armed themselves for the vigil with so many dozens of champagne, cakes &c—and at twelve at night, and at nine in the morning, the Duke paid them a visit. When they came to replace the military, the people who thronged the piazza shouted & clapped their hands—and that clapping of hands is a sound so full of life & mental affirmation to me, (it is’nt mere animal life) that it throbs and thrills through one. Then the band played, and a hymn in congratulation of the Grand Duke, was sung in grand chorus beneath his windows (they sent us a copy of the poem) after which he the Duchess & their children came out into the balcony and bowed their thanks to the people. [14] Think how we rejoiced in our situation all this time. I could sit with my feet on the fender & nod back to their Highnesses. We threw draperies of crimson silk, by the desire of the padrone, out of our five front windows, & only just escaped the glory of an illumination. So you argue with Mr Kenyon about “spheres of usefulness”, Henrietta! Depend on it, there’s one usefulness of the sun & another of the moon. [15] Rolling stones which gather no moss do something else, I dare say. Some are workers in the shop & some in the field, you know—but you must know besides that we have’nt given up England & never shall—though it would be folly in us with our means & my health, to plant ourselves so deeply there that we could not fly before the winters. To winter in England when there is the least chance of escaping, would be most absurd at any time, I do think—and now the facilities of movement are everyday becoming greater & we shall have railroads through France very soon: and even without them, we both like travelling .. it is the pleasure of pleasures to us– Oh, we shall go to Jerusalem some day—but to London first. I dont like to fasten my soul to plans which the uncertainty of the future must render uncertain .. because the rending away would give too much pain, you see. I shut my eyes & open my mouth, like a child, waiting for happy providences. Meanwhile, I hold you in my heart of hearts—believe that of me—and if Robert were to meet & kiss you in the streets here instead of Father Prout, it would be an intense joy. I think they might, some of them, in some vacation have proposed coming down the Rhine, & come a little farther. So well I am, Henrietta, if I must’nt say “too well”—& dear Minny tells Wilson, I hear, that it is highly improper of me to say it, for various reasons. Today I was out, walked up & down in the broad sunshine of our piazza, & missed my parasol—we have the windows open every day—& I believe it will be my own fault, not the atmosphere’s, if I am not able to walk out a little on most days throughout the winter. Wilson has made my black merino very well .. trimmed with black velvet & jet buttons .. and it wont be too warm for all my boastings. One goes out with furs and a parasol, quite in natural combination. As to the other house, I fear it is not let yet .. in which case we lose the whole of the three months. You know, if the people let it for five or six months, they promised to pay back the money .. but that’s too good to be in the least probable. Oh, we have a complement of spoons here—of cups & saucers too, only of the plainest order. The linen is the best—fine sheets & good beds .. On the whole we do very well in this house, and although I behaved abominably in the whole matter I cant be sorry at our being here rather than in Via Maggio where her highness of Brunswick [16] must have suffered from every shade of blue devilrie, if she was in the least like my lowness in bodily & mental constitution. Is Lady Bolingbroke successful yet? does she advise? Give my love to S & S Cook– Give it too to Mrs Orme .. and to Lizzie. Write oftener, you & Arabel, to your own Ba––now do write. Love to all. How did George prosper on circuit?
Is Crow quite well? & the children? Robert writes for himself.
Address, on integral page: Angleterre viâ France / Care of Miss Trepsack / (Miss Barrett) / 10 [sic, for 12]. Upper Gloucester Street / Gloucester Place / Portman Square / London / [and in unidentified hand] missent to Somers Town / JD.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 59–67 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Cf. Macbeth, I, 1, 2.
3. According to The Tuscan Athenæum for 4 December 1847, “On Monday, Novr 29th, at 8 o’Clock in the evening, Count Jakob Gröberg de Hemsö departed this life at the age of 72. He had been confined to his house for six days previous, by an attack of the lungs. — He was born at Gannafre in the parish of Hemsö in the island of Gothland, on the 7th May 1776. … In 1828 he came to reside in Tuscany, and, in 1836, was appointed Chamberlain to H.R.H. the Grand Duke, and in 1841 Librarian of the Palatine library. — He was the author of a great many valuable works, chiefly geographical and statistical” (no. 6, p. 52).
4. Miss Boyle explains: “My visits to Casa Guidi were daily, or rather nightly, for my mother’s health at this time compelled her to retire early to rest; and at the moment I had bidden her goodnight, I would fly to Casa Guidi and spend the early evening, or prima sera, as the Italians call it, with my poets. How delightful were those moments—how swiftly they did pass! how rich was the wit, the wisdom, the knowledge, the fancy, in which I revelled with those dear companions! And then a ring would come at the bell just at the proper moment to save my sweet hostess from fatigue” (Mary Boyle: Her Story, ed. Sir Courtenay Boyle, 1901, p. 220).
5. Robert Boyle (1627–91), son of the “great” Earl of Cork, was a philosopher and chemist. A complete Latin edition of his works was issued in Geneva in 1677 under the title Opera Varia, a copy of which sold as lot 416 in Browning Collections (see Reconstruction, A293; present location unknown). This volume was inscribed by RB on the title page: “Robert & E.B. Browning,” and on the fly-leaf: “I bought this book on a stall by the weight, R.B. Florence.”
6. Robert Macpherson (d. 1873), grand-nephew of the poet James Macpherson, was an artist living and working in Rome, whom she married two years later.
7. Cf. Hebrews 8:5.
8. John Henry Deffell (1778–1847), a merchant of Billiter Court, who lived at 38 Upper Harley Street, had become despondent in consequence of commercial difficulties. On 28 October 1847 he entered a chemist’s shop in Whitecross Street and, posing as a doctor, asked for prussic acid, which he seized and drank. After a brief chase he was taken to Cripplegate Dispensary where he died shortly thereafter. A verdict of “Temporary Insanity” was given. Besides his wife of 42 years, Elizabeth (née Mackenzie), he left three sons and three daughters: John (40), Henry (38), Francis (20), Caroline (41), Justina (39) and Charlotte (32). Deffell, owner of Jamaican estates, including “Swansea” and “Saltspring,” was a Barrett family friend of long standing and there were many connections between the families in business affairs—for example Deffell’s nephew, Duncan Anderson of Mincing Lane, was a broker for EBB’s father.
9. Cf. Paradise Lost, I, 16.
10. “Stupidities.”
11. Charles Augustus Tulk (1786–1849) and two of his daughters, together with their familes, had decided to settle in Florence. One daughter was Louisa Susanna (1819–1848) who married James Peard Ley in 1844; they had two children: Louisa and James. The other daughter was Sophia Augusta (1823–1909) who married Henry Cottrell (1811–71) on 25 September 1847. The Tulks were friends of the Barretts with whom there was a family connection as a result of the marriage of Tulk’s eldest daughter, Caroline Augusta, to John Gordon. Gordon’s sister Anne married EBB’s uncle Samuel in 1833. For more information on the Tulk/Barrett and Cottrell/Browning relationships see “Sophia Cottrell’s Recollections” by Scott Lewis, Browning Society Notes, 24 (1997), 17–49.
12. Henry Cottrell had recently left his post as Chamberlain in the household of Charles Louis de Bourbon, Duke of Lucca. Cottrell was one of three Englishmen ennobled by the Duke who gave him the honorific title of Count. EBB is probably referring to the recent disturbances in Fivizzano. The Duke of Lucca had lately ceded his Duchy to his cousin, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, in exchange for funds to settle his debts. In any event, the Duchy of Lucca would have passed to the Grand Duchy of Tuscany after the death of the Duchess of Parma, but the Duke of Lucca’s financial situation had led him to act hastily. However, when the Duchess of Parma died on 18 December 1847, and it became apparent that the Duke had altered terms of earlier agreements, and some of the outlying areas had been ceded to the Duke of Modena, the inhabitants of these areas were upset to find themselves subjects of unpopular rulers, and fighting broke out. The excitement was soon dispelled, but it left Tuscans, in particular, with even less friendly feelings toward the former Duke of Lucca than they already felt.
13. The feast of St. Leopold the Good, an 11th-century Austrian prince, is celebrated on 15 November.
14. Leopold’s family at this time consisted of twelve children: three from his first marriage and nine from his second wife Maria Antonia. We have been unable to trace the poem referred to by EBB.
15. Cf. I Corinthians 15:41.
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