2716. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 14, 351–356.
Florence.
Dec– 22–23 [1847] [1]
Is it shameful of me not to have stamped out my last no-letter with a letter many days before this day? Forgive me my own dearest Arabel .. for I write to you this time as is fair .. forgive & shut your eyes close on my sins:—remembering besides that you yourselves might have written before if the whole world did as it should– Still, there is a dear letter to thank you for .. the one after Mr Boyd’s—or did I write myself subsequent to it? Really I think I did. The weather has grown cold within these two days, & the touch of frost in the air seals me up into a state of do-nothingness—one does’nt feel up to anything but the fire. I find Robert in the drawingroom each morning when I come to breakfast—an extraordinary finding! Generally he finds me .. seeing that my dressing is quicker done than his shaving. But now in his unwearied kindness, he makes a point of getting up earlier by half an hour, that he may be first, & try to heap the pinewood & set in order the thermometer to prevent my suffering from the cold. He never has me out of his head, one way or another—there never was a woman, made such a fuss about, since Eve—and she made the fuss herself. The consequence is that I have come seriously to consider all other marriages as not to be named in the same sentence as any way comparable or analogous to mine—they seem something different, & it’s an unfairness to talk of parallel lines. For instance, Arlette’s .. I speak as far from myself as possible, in speaking of her’s. She appears to me quite happy—indeed she told me that she was .. which she need’nt have done, for of course I put no question. She said that her husband was very amiable & kind, & that they “suited one another exactly”—and I observed with pleasure that she “would not be afraid of keeping the dinner waiting a little while” .. which is a definitive trait in a man of what I conceive to be Capt. Reynolds’s nature. It proved that the rein was not held too tight after all. The first time she came to see me, she came alone: the second morning, she brought him—after which I never saw him, although she had the kindness (& I thought it really kind) to come to me almost every day of the short remainder of their stay in Florence. Now you bid me say my thoughts of Capt. Reynolds. Remember that I had only some ten minutes or fifteen, of his society, & that he has not much “abandon” in his conversation, to assist one out of this disadvantage. I was a good deal struck by his very veteran appearance—the twenty years difference between himself & his bride, which you seemed to see, being still more obvious to us. He looks to me nearer fifty than forty, much. Yet; life in India is a wearing thing, & as he said “he had had his fling in life altogether” .. which I did not at all doubt, .. he may look older than he is– In any case, if it is no objection to Arlette, it is of no consequence to anybody. For the rest, he is what would everywhere be called a fine-looking man—but as to being “handsome”, .!!! I take the Apollo over the river [2] to witness that I open my eyes with wonder at the idea of any one’s calling him so even by an eccentricity. It is a coarse face with a common expression– A good presence, though, with a certain air of military gentlemanliness– No remarkable polish, with all this– Robert who is a physiognomist, says that he believes him to be an amiable man & goodnatured; & when he (Capt Reynolds) asked me how I thought Arlette was looking, he did so with a glance of interest, which made me feel that he loved her. Reserved & shy he is .. and this is rare in a military man, & I dont like him the less for it upon the whole, .. but of course it shackles him terribly in conversation, & adds to the inconvenience of not really having much to say. What could have induced dear Arlette & him to set out for Italy, is a sort of riddle to me—it is quite curious how little interest they seemed to have in seeing anything.. Think of their being here a month, & never going to Fiesole! [3] We tried to persuade them to go in vain– I even hinted to Arlette that it wd be a sort of disgrace not to have been to Fiesole. Only an hour’s drive, too– “But what is there to see?” asked Capt Reynolds– Milton’s Fiesole, the Fiesole of the Romans, the Fiesole of the Etruscans, and “what to see”? Robert answered that there was a splendid “view”, in any case– We thought they had resolved on going at last, but the weather “looked uncertain”, and so, that came to an end. Moreover they did not see half nor a quarter nor a tenth of what was to be seen in Florence, & went to Rome the shortest way .. missing Perugia & all the interest & beauty. So strange it seemed to us, & would seem to you, I think: for why come to Italy at all if one does not care for the sights of Italy? Their travelling is done in the most expensive way possible, the courier who was with them persuading them to prefer the hotels to the private apartments, notwithstanding Arlette’s inclination to the latter—& by what she told me, we are calculating that they must have spent from sixty to seventy pounds in the course of a month for just living. Not that she thought it at all dear—but in reality & according to Florentine prices it was most extravagant: and then they were not particularly comfortable .. complained of smells .. & were on a second floor, to boot– They did not appear to use their carriage here– Arlette always walked to see me & came by herself; & once Robert walked back with her, & once he & I did so together. I thought her looking very handsome– I never saw her looking so well. Oh, I made her tell me about you, .. but she went away without telling half I wanted to hear, & some things I did not dare to ask questions of, feeling too deeply for the possible answers. Dear Arlette! I quite loved her, do you know? She seemed the representative of so much of the past & the absent. When she came into the room first, I was glad that Robert was out walking, for he hates to see the tears in my eyes; & the emotion of receiving her took me by surprise .. I never thought to cry at seeing Arlette, and the tears came in spite of reason. Everything past came back at the sight of her & was joined to the present—everything .. everybody—the poor dark room in Wimpole Street, & your beloved faces & voices. Such a dream it seemed, to meet in Florence, & so! She is to write to you, she says, to certify what she thinks of my looks– She told me & Robert that the change was past belief almost—meaning the change for the better. Well, now! shall you be able to garble an extract from all these words, which may not displease Bummy? She wrote to me at the first arrangement of the marriage, about the bridegroom’s beauty & talents, & the fairies only know what—so if she expects me to be “dazzled”, nothing herein said can of course satisfy her—but you must use tact & discretion & not get me into a scrape. Robert told me I was inclined to be over-severe, & that his own impression was in favour of the goodnature & amiability—& he is famous as a physiognomist I assure you. They seem resolved on buying a house in London & living there & Arlette thinks that the Bevans’ plans are of a like colour. You know, Arabel, Mr Bevan is ten times more a man than this Capt Reynolds!—that is, to my mind: infinitely his superior in intellect, & of a higher nature altogether. Still, in his class & after his pattern, Capt Reynolds may be an excellent person, .. & we must not deny that it is a class & pattern which many women prefer. Only, Arabella will be elevated by her marriage, .. and Arlette never can. Not by that means, at least. Which brings me back to my preference after all– How sorry I am that dear Bummy shd have returned to the same house in the same place: nothing could be more unfortunate– I am sorry too that she did not go to Tours:—it seems to me a pity altogether! Most of all sorry I am that no letter should come today. Oh you wicked people!—and Henrietta was beginning to have the influenza, when you wrote last, & I hear that the newspapers talk of influenza .. influenza! Do take care of yourselves– Now, Arabel, you who go out at night, do you cover your chest & throat up. Robert tells me two or three times a day that I dont love him, & once with ever so many impromptu verses he said & sung it .. (did I tell you what an improvisatore he was?) said & sung that I did’nt love him ..
“That I only deceive
Beguile him and leave
At the treason to grieve,
While like fair mother Eve
I laugh in my sleeve!”
& all because I object to turning him out of his chair, when my sofa is as near the fire .. or because I dont sit with a shawl over my head, or some such fantastical reason. Of course this cold weather .. why there is a sprinkling of snow in the piazza today .. affects my throat a little—and the fuss, oh, the fuss! I cant help laughing sometimes, though I could cry too, at, the dear dreadful look of anxiety in his eyes– “Now Ba, if you love me, you will think of something to do yourself good– Now, my love, I do beseech you to think of something—” But I cant think of anything except ordering out the sun, or a slight mizzle perhaps … Oh, but he wont have me laugh– Because if I were to be ill .. what wd become of the universe, I wonder? You are to understand, all this while, that I am not ill, my darling Arabel, nor with any inclination to illness: it is simply that my throat is a little hoarse, off & on .. (no losing of voice, mind!) with the sharper air, .. which is softening again. The snow vanishes while I write .. also there is no sign of frost on the windows. But Robert has taken to abuse poor Florence, .. somewhat unjustly, it seems to me, because we have had really wonderful weather until the last few days. Arlette thought poor Flush as much altered for the worse as I was for the better—but he improves rapidly & will soon recover his beauty, having an extraordinary appetite plainly with that design, the cold weather being favorable in another way. Now, Arabel, while the winter lasts & you go out at nights, mind to cover yourself up. If you were married to Robert, how you wd quarrel to be sure, just on that subject of covering up .. just as you & I used to quarrel, when you would’nt put on a shawl or a boa or a something. I tell you that he reproaches me who am an innocent & do such things most obediently, precisely that you may understand how for love’s sake you ought to behave– And there’s Henrietta– Wetting her feet in walks to Hampstead I dare say. Tell me particularly about the influenza. My best love to dearest Trippy, & exhort her to take care, & keep by the fire & avoid catching colds & coughs. Dear thing, I think of her a good deal. Oh, how I think of you all– How I love you, my own darling Arabel, & long for the presence of you, which wd be so much better than the summer!– You must say to Mr Stratten, with my true & grateful regards, that he always was better to me & kinder than I had a right to claim; and that, for my poetry, even if he were severe upon it, I hope I should try to use the opinion as a means of improvement,—since, as an “occasion of discord,” I never could. But instead of being severe, he is over-gentle,—& you must thank him for this as for the rest. It gives one courage to rub together the pieces of dry wood & try to strike a light in the darkness: and when it shall be light enough to see my face he will see it full of respect & esteem for him always. He has helped me in more important things than poetry itself. Arabel,—Why do you not mention poor Mr Hunter? I see no sign of him in a letter of yours. Is it quarrel the nine hundred & ninetyninth, or what? I wish much to hear whether he is prospering in the pupil-plan, & how dear Mary likes Ramsgate, & her new duties– As to poor dear unfortunate Annie Hayes, I tremble to think or imagine. I hope you wrote to her affectionately & earnestly, for it is my strong conviction that you may do something .. at least, if you cannot, that no one else will care to try. Also it is not in sorrow & in sin, that human beings should be cold to & stand aloof from one another—though the world’s maxims & experience are of a different complexion. Do not give her up, Arabel, whatever you hear. I am sorry that you did not see her in London. No one is ever compromised by another’s ill conduct, except when ceasing to tell the truth unsparingly– I am sure you agree with me in this at the bottom—and I agree with you, of course, as to the painfulness of associations without sympathy. Mr Hayes’s conduct appears detestable, past believing almost, .. but if he acted on provocation & in sudden passion, what better cd be expected from a coarse-minded man? I am full of regret that Annie shd have quarrelled with Papa– Oh miserable, miserable marriage! She had better have died before that hour. I have heard from Mrs Strutt [4] of her arrival in Rome & answered by desiring her to send her precious parcel to join Clara Lindsay’s—writing by the same post to Clara that both shd be sent to me by the safest public conveyance, as I cant have patience to wait any more for “private hands.” At first I was afraid of “risks”—but I cant have patience. I have had a very kind letter from Lady Margaret Cocks. So the Martins are gone to Pau? The other evening Miss Boyle brought her brother to us, celebrated for his Vandyke beauty. [5] A handsome man certainly, & with a beard to justify my predilections, besides the moustache—and such a melodious voice, such refined or over refined manners! A very charming person, really, & I dare say the hero of many a “grande passion”. Lady Morgan says of him—“He never shd marry: he belongs to all of us!” Then we have had two American ladies, [6] pleasing & cultivated, but talking detestably, .. with that provincial enunciation of the vowels, which I never shall get over in the Americans. They brought letters of introduction from Mrs Sigourney. Ah—Christmas is coming! My heart flies across the mountains to you—may God bless you all! Tell me of Papa & all. It grieves me that you answer my questions so .. but I feared it. Severity is one thing, injustice another. On what grounds he continues that line of conduct, is past my power of guessing at. Poor Papa! After all, it is most grievous for himself. I wonder if he & others will even think of me this Christmas. Robert says every now & then “We will have a merry christmas, Ba .. shant we?” and I say ‘yes’ & smile: but <the> truth is that these anniversaries are filled to me with bitter thoughts & that I shall <be> glad when they are over. Take care of dear Minny, that she does not tire her<self> with Christmas work, so as to be ill again. My love to all my brothers. <But o>ught’nt I to say particularly to dear Henry, after his kindness to me? Lov<e me>, Arabel! May God bless you for ever.
Your Ba–
The weather quite mild again.
Address, on integral page: To the care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Arabel Barrett) / 10 [sic, for 12] Upper Gloucester Street / Dorset Square. / [and in another hand] Not known as directed / W Sidman / Try 12.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. Year determined by EBB’s references to the visit from her newly-wed cousin, Charlotte Mary “Arlette” Reynolds (née Butler).
2. Perhaps a reference to the “Apollino,” in the Tribune of the Uffizi, which Murray’s Hand-Book for Travellers in Northern Italy (1847) says is “considered one of the most valuable monuments that have reached us. It exhibits very high qualities of art” (p. 544).
3. The Tuscan Athenæum of 6 November 1847 announced the arrival of Captain Charles Reynolds during the week of 29 October to 5 November, first at the Albergo Reale and afterwards at the Albergo dell’Arno (no. 2, p. 16).
4. Presumably Elizabeth (née Byron, 1782–1867), wife of Jacob Strutt (1784–1867), an English artist in Rome. He and their son, Arthur John Strutt (1819–88), are both described as “landscape painters” in The Roman Advertiser for 10 February 1849. Their studio was located at 52 Via del Babuino, which is the address recorded in EBB’s earliest extant address book; see vol. 9, p. 387 under “Strull.” Mr Strutt was the author of numerous books, including one entitled The Feminine Soul: Its Nature and Attributes. With Thoughts upon Marriage, and Friendly Hints upon Feminine Duties (1857). Writing about the “emancipation of women,” she refers to EBB, claiming that it was “an idea which seems to have taken hold of the fancy of one of our most gifted poetesses; one whom to wish ‘unsexed,’ would be to wish the disrobing of one of the gentlest, and most loving intellectual forms; yet who, strange to say, has, amid much that is beautiful, much that is lofty, written two of the most absurd and most unpleasing sonnets in the English language, addressed to … George Sand” (p. 215).
5. In Mary Boyle: Her Book, ed. Sir Courtenay Boyle (1901), she describes her brother Charles John (1806–85) as follows: “Yet the real, surpassing gift of beauty was reserved for my brother Charles. Ah! what a store of love and memory is connected with that dear name, and how well did the Greek epithet ‘Kalos’ become him, which implies in its melodious sound both moral and physical beauty. The term beautiful does not appear, perhaps, often applicable to a man, but it certainly was to Charles. In feature, colouring and expression he was the counterpart of our mother, the same soft brown hair, the same sapphire blue eyes, the same faultless outline of profile” (pp. 11–12). In 1849 he married Zacyntha Moore, whom he had met the preceding summer in Rome, where they had become engaged (pp. 205–206).
6. Unidentified.
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