2717. EBB to Henrietta Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 1–9.
Florence–
Jan. 4– 5– 6– [1848] [1]
My ever dearest Henrietta, you shall not wait for this letter as for the last– I have too much to say & thank you for. Thank you, thank you in the first place for your dear words on Christmas-day, which the wicked post people here had the heart to keep back two days .. the post-mark itself certifying to its punctual arrival– Arabel’s courier of a note (thank her for that, dear thing!) announced the pleasure I was to have—so of course I expected it with a full heart .. & when at last it came, oh how glad it made me & how grateful to you. And how good & kind of dearest Henry to write to me again. Give him my best love—tell him that I love him dearly– Also I would say this to himself; but the present envelope will be heavily laden by the time this letter shall be thoroughly finished, so my note to him shall be for another occasion. Give Robert’s love to him with mine .. because we both feel warmly towards him, & shall not forget that he has been the first to stretch out his hand to us– Our Christmas was very quiet & happy, & we had a “plum puddingo,” of the real Italiano-Inglese sort, and Wilson made us knead cakes, & Robert told me that he loved me ever so much more than on the Christmas before—so it was all very happy .. only that these anniversaries always make me inclined to cry instead of laugh, & the truth is that I was glad in my inmost nature when the season took itself off. Oh, how I thought of you all .. how I was with you in spirit! how truly, truly, & perpetually I love you! Well, but this is not very amusing. Let me rather think what I have to tell you. I had the kindest possible letter from uncle Hedley two days ago, with a postscript from Jane .. and he says … I quote his own words .. “I rejoice to assure you how from the commencement of your wedded life I have most warmly & sincerely sympathized in all your joys & sorrows, regretting the bitter mixture, but regarding your conduct as pure & blameless as it was possible to be under the difficult circumstances in which you were placed”. Which is not more kindness than I expected from him who has always borne himself towards me in so affectionate a spirit. It is a long letter, & he seems to like Tours much better than the Reynolds’s taught me to think: they said that the Hedleys were tired of it already & yearned back to Paris. But no, says uncle Hedley .. he prefers it to Paris, though the society is only indifferent. So does uncle James, .. who is as stout as ever, & does’nt get on with his French. Then there is a word or two about Tom Butler’s “charming wife” [2] (underlined) who does’nt get on either .. with her popularity. Of husband, child, & lapdog, she expresses a preference for the last. Poor Tom!—there’s a fine morality for you, touching the wisdom of marrying for money!– Uncle Hedley regrets Bummy’s resolve about Leamington .. just as I did without waiting to hear what you tell me. It was so obviously a good cheerful plan for her to go to Tours where she had many relations, a pretty surrounding country, & such cheapness in the ways of life. You may say what you please, Henrietta, .. but if England expects every family to do its duty in the particular respect of living within the circle of chalk-cliffs, why England shd be good enough to let down its prices & its conventions. Bummy is richer by just half when she is in France, .. observe, .. besides the advantage of the Hedleys. Set her up by herself at Notting Hill, and she begins by breaking her heart at the appearance of losing caste, through living in the suburbs, in a slim slice of house, & not keeping a carriage. Louisa [3] does’nt see what the consequences wd be to Bummy. I, for my part, would’nt mind the least in the world, though I lived side by side with a retired grocer, (Mr Pop late of Holborn), & had to take the omnibus every time I came into London. But with Bummy who would mind everything, the case is different—and then you know, she is a single woman, & would never cease to “want protection” or to fancy she wanted it, to the end of her days. Now in Paris even, women do not take up such fancies, & young & pretty women walk in the streets without any sort of chaperonage: while both men & women are more independent of conventions of every sort, live as they please, & are none the less considered though pleasing to live in a sixth flat with one maidservant. I hear in Italy of ancient countesses & their daughters, who make their own beds & empty the “slops”, and then go to court in a blaze of undeniable glory. The difference is prodigious between England & perhaps all the continental nations in this respect of social conventionality, and I am certainly of opinion that you have not the advantage, when one considers the rationale of things of the sort– In this difference also, still more than in actual prices, lies the question of cheapness .. you pay for the outside crust of life, besides for the available inside goose-pie– A metaphor most appropriate to the season. Oh, Henrietta, my dearest Arabel & all of you—what a happy year I wish you, & happy years to come after, many & many. May God bless you out of earth & Heaven, in the body & in the spirit, for time & longer than time—may He bless you better than I can imagine blessing. Your parcels come from Rome while I write, as real Christmas gifts! Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are too good & kind—far, far too good & kind to me, & I open my eyes & turn from one gift to another in a sort of shameful gratitude, i.e. a mixture of gratitude & shame .. not that I am ashamed of my gratitude, you will be pleased to understand. Here is this beautiful bag .. which Robert declares to be the most masterly production of a lady’s hand he ever had an opportunity of admiring .. how beautiful & exact it is! how useful it will be in travelling, or even at home on the sofa! Inside the little internal bag (and we have admired even to the inside button of it!) I find two worsted-needles .. left there by mistake of course– I am certain you have been down on your knees on the carpet .. I think I see you .. looking for them—& here they are safe! given up to Wilson’s uses, she being particularly in want of just such a pair of needles. Then comes Arabel’s very pretty little cap-ette .. so pretty! how I thank her dear fingers. And here again are her mittens .. which I prefer to the Maltese .. they are perfect I think: & the truth is that I am wearing a pair which Robert describes picturesquely as looking like a ruin of old stockings whereof he shall have kissed away all the .. toes. One cant get legitimate open mittens here in Florence—at least, Wilson says she cant– They must of course be to be had, but either her energy or her Italian has hitherto failed—she gives me my choice of black worsted, or plain black silk as aforesaid. To dear little Lizzie I must write my own thanks for the pretty collar. And now what do you say for yourselves, after sending me all these things? It is too bad of you, being so much too good. Throughout the winter I am wearing constantly your slippers, now yours, Henrietta which are on my feet while I write, & now Arabel’s. I never wear any other shoes I assure you, except to go out. And then, for you to send me other things, in this way. Thank you, thank you, thank you.——
You may tell Mary Minto [4] from me & with my love that if she is in earnest in her theory, she is not at least justified in it, & I hope her experience will solve it differently in the end. Mine has taught me that there may be men absolutely generous .. who sink the very question of self, not only in great things but in little things .. which is harder, perhaps. At the same time she is quite wise not to be in haste to marry .. & even to give up marrying at all, as long as she does not find some one to hold in reverence as well as love. Marriage is not necessary to women .. but there are certain conditions which are necessary to marriage .. in any high & happy sense. Think of Bummy writing to me (oh, a very kind letter) to desire to have my sincere opinion “and Mr Browning’s” about Capt Reynolds .. We are to speak the exact truth, both of us, .. and she listens for it in anxiety. Now the idea of my writing what I might, on an impulse, have said, about .. “that coarse, unpleasant man .. looking as if he had been pulled through & through the deepest slough of the world .. & had liked it.” The idea of my putting down that, & sending it to Bummy– How satisfactory to be sure! Why it wd be in infamous taste, if not in absolute cruelty. No, the time for truth telling on such a subject is past. Still, .. you are not to fancy that I dislike him so much—he is a man out of my sympathies .. that is all—and it did not strike me certainly that he was refined– But I saw him only once, & really he did not seem to me unamiable .. he looked goodnatured enough—and as for Arlette’s happiness, I believe that at present she is quite happy. Then Robert always took his part, .. classed him with one set of men, & observed that we should learn to widen our view & judge of individuals according to their class & not according to our own tastes & characters. In which he is right of course—only it is a hard thing to do. Also he thought well of his amiability & good nature, being a physiognomist. Capt. Reynolds will be kind to his wife, but he never will spoil her, be sure. He means that she shd take care of herself in a very reasonable degree, or he wd not have let her walk day by day through Florence, across the bridge, when he might have brought her to our door without much effort. Oh—I dont say that she was’nt quite able to walk alone .. & you know what I think about scrupulousness in such respects– Only, when my own husband thinks it a matter of course to walk with me every night from this room to my bedroom door, when Wilson has said that it is time for me to begin to undress, the other system would strike me naturally as rather strange & unlike! Indeed it is not my exactingness which makes him do such things .. I should never have had them in my head, I assure you. People may love one another perfectly without doing them I dare say, & I know, indeed. Oh, if I get up even to move across the room, somebody says “Will you come & walk a little?” and he will leave his writing or reading or piano, or whatever it may be, to walk up & down with me, till we are both giddy .. because it is too small a room to walk up & down in. Palazzo Guidi was the place for that—we both regret it to this day. And I am sure that Robert hates our present apartment, for other reasons than the size. The padroni are not the most delicate of Italian creatures in their personal habits, and unfortunately there are occasions of col[l]ision, which I have not suffered from, but which have left him quite raging– Now if Arlette had married a man like Mr Boyle for instance, I could quite have understood. He is a polished gentleman in the utmost sense of the word—& so handsome, so charming, & cultivated—without any extraordinary gifts & without being a man of letters, or I suppose, anything approaching to it. His sister tells me that he is just engaged to a very pleasing person, [5] who has almost only expectations, while he has just nothing, probably, saving a high name & aristocratic connections,—the consequence being that he has set off suddenly to England to try to “get something” in the way of occupation & emolument. I like him the better for not trading on his good looks (as really many men might) to buy the favour of an heiress. Miss Boyle, (when I observed what an absurd fuss people did make about an income, the truth being that one might live on less than was considered possible by half the civilized world) agreed at once, & remarked besides that even those who had married & thrived on the most uncalculating principles, generally contradicted their very own experience by talking ever so much stuff on the other side of the question for the benefit of others. She spent another evening with us alone a few nights ago, & stayed till twelve oclock, till I was tired half to death, notwithstanding her agreeableness. Robert proposed lying in bed the whole of the next day, to make up for it,—it was so very much out of our usual habits. Last night, a carriage seemed to stop at the door at about nine. “Oh, if that shd be Miss Boyle’[’] .. said I, “I really dont feel up to her tonight”. “Well, darling, .. we’ll let her come in & then I will say that you have rather a headache & had just been observing that you were glad it was time to go to bed”, which made me cry aloud at the very idea of such a civil & conclusive speech to a visitor coming in at the door! Fancy the hospitable effect of such a speech. Happily it was a false alarm .. we had nothing worse than the sound of carriages going to the Grand Ducal Court till eleven oclock. Wilson had a ticket & went, in company with Mrs Loftus’s maid, to a post at the door of the reception-rooms. She said it was all very shabby in comparison with our English court .. the taste in dress very defective, & nobody very pretty except a Greek lady in trowsers, .. who, for the rest, is, Robert says, by far the prettiest woman in Florence. He is always moaning over the “hideous faces” everywhere, to which I answer that it ought to be precisely the same thing to him now, whether they are ugly or beautiful. I observe the same .. the women are quite plain, really .. all except the black eyes. But when everybody has black eyes, they dont count for so much. There is a general want of freshness & youthfulness in the complexions .. and the figures want elasticity & grace[.]
Dear Nelly Bordman sent me in your parcel a pair of muffetees .. and I had a most kind letter from Mrs Strutt offering to do the impossible for me. Letters too from Miss Bayley, by post .. & heaps of others. There’s dearest Mr Kenyon who renews his offer that we should draw on him whenever we want money—thinking, I dont doubt, of the Via Maggio business & other occasions of expense. Was ever such kindness in the world? We feel it, of course, as much as if it were required, which, I thank God, it is not! .. for I should have hard work to console Robert if we were even shoe-deep in pecuniary difficulty from any cause. He exaggerates the importance of being clear on all sides .. we are not at all alike in that respect– Not that he cares for money the least more than I do .. but the idea of “debt” is a sort of “Croque-mitaine” [6] to him, .. & says “fee fa fum” in the dark– Oh, what a fuss to be sure we had last summer, because the remittance from the Rothschilds did not come on the right day .. a fortnight before we wanted it. Because if something happened, & something followed, & something else did’nt happen & something else did’nt follow, why we shd be “embarrassed”—how dreadful to be sure! I asked him to put my sofa pillow right, & give me the second volume of Dumas’ last novel. He declared that my ‘insouciance’ was by no means laudable, that I wanted somebody to take care of me, .. & that I would ask for a second volume, just in the same tone of voice if, beginning a course of starvation, I did’nt know where to get bread. I answered that the book was amusing & it might be so .. but that as at present I did’nt feel even hungry & believed there was every prospect of dining at three oclock, I could not see any necessity for working myself up into a state of frenzy. Of course the letter came next day & justified all my impertinence. There never was anyone who looked round a corner with a more imaginative obliquity, when the idea of money-difficulty is suggested in any form, than Robert does– It is we who remind our creditors of their claims on us instead of its being the other way. We send down to our hostess on the very morning, that she may come to have the next two months’ rent prepaid. The same with everything. As for the weekly bills, Wilson brings them in on monday mornings, & lays them on his desk—all except the washing bill which I never allow to be looked at & which is brought straight to myself, with any other private item– I just read the amount to Robert & he adds it to the rest, and pays—advancing something to Wilson to go on with the next week. Three minutes end the whole business, and he says to me “we have done very well this week, Ba” or “it is higher than usual by so many pauls” .. to which I answer “Indeed” or something equally full of help–
Oh, I told you that Flush was looking ill—so now you must be pleased to understand that “nous avons changé, tout cela” [7] .. you never saw a dog in your life so improved & beautified. His curls are still wanting .. but he is smooth and fat .. as fat as ever—as might have been expected from the perseverance of his appetite .. and his eyes shine like two lamps. Miss Boyle admires him much. Then his manners are improved on the whole .. he does’nt bark on every occasion, to have the door opened & some more bread & butter & so on .. he is satisfied with a gentle cry, which is quite as expressive & does’nt stun you. Robert always says that he is a dog of supernatural cleverness, & I do assure you that more & more he is distinguished for this. Still we have dreadful scrapes sometimes. For instance .. he eats enormously, and Wilson entreats me ever & anon not to give him “sweets so much” because it makes him sick at nights .. he sleeps in Wilson’s room, observe– Well, the other day after dinner, .. (we had had a chicken and a piece of roast beef for dinner ..) after dinner, in she came with a face of consternation .. “I really must offer a complaint of Flush” .. in her absence for two minutes he had mounted on the table & taken the whole of the beef & disposed of it to the uttermost. So poor Flush, who knew perfectly that he was “in for it,” was in disgrace for the day .. not allowed to come into the drawing room– Wilson whipped him, & Robert called him a thief .. & you never saw an expression of more shame in a human face than in his. Robert made it a particular request to me “that I would not pet him” .. there was no refuge for him, poor fellow .. so he hid under the darkest tables & sofas to the end of the day after an ineffectual attempt to propitiate me. The next morning, I told him to ask Robert’s pardon, which he instantly set about doing most eloquently, & was retaken into favour, of course.– They have both had a long walk today up into the mountains above Fiesole, & Robert brought in a branch of rosemary from the highest steep, after being two hours away or two hours & a half perhaps. He had one of his headaches which it is always necessary to walk off—& such a walk he says, this was– Such surpassing colours among the hills! It is as wild close to Florence as if there were no Florence at all. He says he must get me up there some day before we go, on a donkey or somehow. Well, we shall see. I am quite well, .. though we have had another day or two of cold, & my throat gets a little uncomfortable of course in the morning air, but soon recovers by help of coffee & fire. Think of Robert’s seeing in Galignani’s newspaper (the Paris paper, extracting from the Daily News) a letter from Rome which says graciously that “Rome is less happy than Florence in possessing only Mrs Trollope & Lady Charlotte Bury, whereas Florence has Mr Grattan, [8] Mr Lever, & Robert Browning with his gifted wife.” [9] We have been laughing at this a little at coffee time, & I felt impelled to tell you. We suspect Father Prout of being the expounder of this supreme happiness of Florence .. who, by the way, is as unconscious as is well possible– Do you know the first sight of Minny’s letter to Wilson .. at least the hearing of it .. gave me quite a start. I was so thankful when Wilson said it was all right & pleasant. My love to dear Minny, [10] & mind you dont let her tire herself too much either with “soup” or things less charitable– And keep Arabel from going among such of the poor as may have infectious complaints. Dear darling Arabel .. neither she nor you were ever in any “scrape” with me, I do assure you—but Robert had me by the head & you by the heels, & I was being pulled in two. Shall I promise you? Directly I can get up the least ground of illness or uncomfortableness, I will have in a physician straight. [11] You my dearest Henrietta have had the influenza—& not a word! There’s an exemplary candour––is’nt it? Do take care of yourself, & give up while the winter lasts the early church going, which never did your body good whatever it might do for the soul! How is my very dear Treppy? My love & a great double-kiss, & Robert’s & my affectionate wishes for the years to come & follow. Mind you tell her that. Have you seen the Deffells? [12] Arlette said she wd write to Arabel from Rome. Berry’s marriage seems perfect—only did she accept him after seeing him twice? Do you mean truly? I think I shall write her a little note of congratulation. [13] May I? Marriages are in the ascendant. I have heard of another coming on .. but cant tell you yet– [14] Dont try to guess. Depend on it that all single people are being swept out of the world! so look to yourselves in Wimpole Street–
May God bless you all–
Your own attached
Ba.
Robert’s best love to you & Arabel.
Address, on integral page: To the care of Miss Trepsack / (Miss Barrett) / 10 [sic, for 12] Upper Gloucester Street / Dorset Square.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 67–74 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Mary Tulip (1814–59), daughter and heiress of Henry Tulip of Brunton and Walwick Hall, Northumberland, married EBB’s cousin Thomas Butler (1814–93), second son of Sir Thomas Butler, 8th Baronet and his wife Frances (née Graham-Clarke), on 5 May 1840. They had one child, Henry Thomas Butler (1842–81).
3. i.e., Louisa Charlotte Carmichael (née Butler); see letter 2352, note 4.
4. Mary Eliza Minto (1821–97), daughter of Walter Minto (1779?–1830) and his wife Mary Wisdom (née Gallimore, 1781?–1855) of Trelawny Parish, Jamaica. The Mintos lived at 32 Cambridge Terrace in London and had been friends with the Moulton-Barretts for a number of years.
5. Zacyntha Moore (1824–1907), daughter of General Sir Lorenzo Moore, married Charles John Boyle (1806–85), brother of Mary Louisa Boyle, on 3 July 1849.
6. “Hobgoblin,” or “ogre.”
7. “We have changed all that.” Molière, Le Médecin Malgré Lui, II, iv.
8. Thomas Colley Grattan (1792–1864), an Irish author who, according to subscription lists for Vieusseux’s Reading Rooms, was living at Casa Baldacci on the Lungarno in November 1847.
For this and many of the annotations that draw upon Italian sources in the present volume, the editors gratefully acknowledge the scholarly assistance of Simonetta Berbeglia of Arezzo, Italy.
9. “The English in Rome.—The lively (Hiberno Roman) correspondent of the Daily News says:—‘Rome is becoming full. We have but few celebrities here as yet. In literature we have only Mrs. Trollope and Lady Charlotte Bury; whereas Florence rejoices in Harry Lorrequer [Charles James Lever], Colley Grattan (“High-ways and By-ways”), Robert Browning (“Bells and Pomegranates”) and his gifted wife, Elizabeth Barrett’” (Galignani’s Messenger, 29 December 1847, p. 2).
10. Mary Robinson (1785–1864), called “Minny” or “Mrs. Robinson,” was born in Great Stainton, Co. Durham, to Thomas Robinson and his wife Ann. Great Stainton lies some eight miles south of EBB’s birthplace Coxhoe Hall. By early 1817 Minny was a servant in the Moulton-Barrett household at Hope End, becoming in the summer of that year nurse-companion to a severely ill Arabella. Three years later she assumed the role of the family’s housekeeper, a position she maintained in all subsequent Moulton-Barrett residences. After the death of EBB’s father, she lived with Arabella at 7 Delamere Terrace. She died there on 30 May 1864.
11. EBB was pregnant at this time, and evidently her sisters had expressed concerns for her health. She responds to similar concerns in letter 2707.
12. The family of John Henry Deffell; see letter 2711, note 8.
13. Eliza Berry Peyton (1827–1907) and Jasper Henry Selwyn (1819–1901), a commander in the Royal Navy, married at Florence in 1851 after a prolonged engagement.
14. This is the first of several teasing references to the marriage engagement of Eleanor Page Bordman to Francis Robert Jago, the secret of which EBB reveals in letter 2728. As explained in letter 2719, she had been told of the engagement by Sarah Bayley “in strict confidence.”
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