2724. EBB to Henrietta Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 38–44.
[Florence]
March 7 [sic, for 15]—April 1– [1848] [1]
My ever dearest Henrietta. As soon as I had finished the last letter I wrote to you (that is to Arabel) I began to feel not at my very best, & went to bed earlier than usual to take the evil by the forelock—was feverish & restless all night, & in the morning, poor Robert was running on all sides for physicians .. everybody seeming to be out that precise day just by contradiction. At last Dr Harding [2] came, through a note being left to him! I may say all this historically without alarming you, since the story, told by myself, could not possibly admit of my being left on the field of battle, observe. Still, I have been ill again, & there’s the truth, & in bed for a week without daring hardly to move hand or foot, it was so necessary to keep quiet. [3] Dr Harding said at first meeting, with the most awful of faces .. “All I can hope, is to bring you safely through ..” .. what was suffered at Pisa! [4] —& then seeing that by no means this opinion was satisfactory to his hearer, he added .. “But there is just a chance, & we will do what is possible.” I, for my part, had not the least hope; & I do think that if another disappointment is really escaped, (of which I doubt a little at this moment .. although things were not as decided as they were at Pisa) it is a miracle, let Dr Harding’s skill have ever so much honour paid to it. Honour due, that is! he gave strong medecines & they had an immediate effect in arresting the progress of the evil, & I was much less exhausted than on the previous occasion .. oh, much less—& now he has taken leave of me altogether, only promising to call in after ten days “as a friend” he said kindly. We are infinitely pleased with him—I expected to see a man too old for the energy necessary to his occupation .. whereas he is just of the pleasant right age, with a benevolent yet acute countenance, & is very decided in his opinions & advice. The morphine he did not disturb in any way .. he says that if I diminish, so as to feel the diminution in the least degree, I shall have to double the dose as has been proved. The wine he puts away altogether. Evidently he thought it quite improper for me with my vivacious temperament, to take so much wine, & he said that so far from strengthening me it was in every way likely to do harm by quickening the circulation & producing fever. Indeed I had rather doubted myself lately whether I was right in taking the wine, & for a few days before the last crisis, I had diminished the quantity, much against Robert’s will. Dr Harding bids me trust more to the open air than to other means; &, as soon as ever I could bear it, I was sent out in the carriage—an easy carriage, he says, being the least hazardous form of exercise. Now you see, everybody had cried out that a carriage was bad, .. & that walking (which evidently & to my own experience, disagreed with me) was far less objectionable. I think people talk from old tradition & from times when carriages jolted in the fashion of carts. At any rate I have much enjoyed and benefitted by the experiment of carriage-exercise, so far—having been out four times, first for an hour & then an hour & a half & two hours. We drove to our old paradise the Cascine, & saw the elms as green as ever they mean to be, & the grass like emeralds, & the pheasants all alive & flying—& as everyday we are to go out by especial command, Robert has taken a carriage for the month .. a britska, easy & nice-looking, with two horses & a coachman, at the rate of two shillings & nine pence the two hours. It will be a great increase to our enjoyment—and if you did but see how delighted Robert is to have me out with him again! He is quite in an ecstasy about it—which is only a fair recompense for the anxiety he has had of late by my means. And this time, it was not indeed my fault– I have nothing to reproach myself for. As to the wine, Dr Cook recommended it—otherwise I never shd have ventured to touch what was so far out of my habits of old, as port wine. Now you are not to give a second thought to all this, mind– The evil is passed, through God’s mercy,—thrown far behind us. Dr Harding who is called by Murray & other authorities “the Locock of Florence”, [5] & who has certainly an immense practice in all such cases, said in his leave-taking visit, that “the system had shown an astonishing energy”, that “the vessel answered to the helm with a perfect readiness”, & that he had no idea (in the first moment) of seeing me so well, so soon. In fact, I am made at once of glass & of iron, I believe—or rather altogether of willow, .. which springs up as quickly as it can be trodden down. I do assure you, .. I look nearly as well if not quite, (I doubt whether to say quite or not) as I did a fortnight ago,—though pale enough when I first left my bed & sate face to face with the glass– God’s goodness shd be recognized in these things, & I beseech of you, my dear dearest sisters to help me to recognize it in thanks to Him, even if some bitter disappointment should peradventure be mingled in the gift. It appears that I am not strong enough for some blessings: but others are lavished on me. How can I find words to tell you of all the dear & untiring tenderness of my husband? Instead of loving me less, it is surely more & more that he loves me, just as he says it is– Throughout that week he would not breakfast nor have tea nor supper, except at my bedside—he gave me my cold cup of tea first, & asked me to eat my dry toast before he wd touch anything. Now I am back in my old place, pouring out the coffee, & as impertinent as usual—and when we go on our drives, we talk & laugh & enjoy the world as much as if it were not turned topsy turvy. What an extraordinary state of the times, to be sure! Every morning as Robert goes to the post & to look at the newspapers, I say “Bring me back news of a revolution”. And generally, he brings me news of two! Since the creation, there never was such a succession of moral earthquakes—and if I were inclined to prophecy out of Revelations, I might have a good deal to utter in terrible tones.. Ask Arabel if her Plymouth brethren are not, most of them, in prophetic trances. Why, even Mr Chorley quotes John’s vision—& therefore Mrs Gipps surely may. One thing is plain—that men see one of God’s truths, .. & that, under the lightning of it, the whole edifice of political falsehood is crumbling down on all sides. I cannot but rejoice for my part, far more than I am frightened by the thunderous sound of the falling ruins. Here in Florence the heart of the people boils .. but there is perfect tranquillity as far as one can see,—and it wd be quite wrong & ungrateful if our Grand Duke suffered, after his free concessions. The accounts from Lombardy are awful (.. I mean, of the butchery performed in Milan by the Austrian troops in their blind fury ..) but glorious in results for the unarmed & triumphant people. [6] Two or three days ago, there was a grand Florentine illumination, .. the Grand Duke throwing out his Pitti palace in fire, upon the sky, .. (& he a grand duke of Austria!) at the news from Lombardy of the Austrian expulsion. The streets were thronged with people, & the utmost harmony pervaded the whole city. The night before there was a loud shouting in our piazza—a great crowd had siezed upon the arms of Austria, suspended on the house of the ambassador, & burnt them with a shriek of curses under the palace windows! then they gave a “Viva Leopoldo Secondo”, and dispersed peaceably. I was not in the least frightened, nor had reason for being so.
As to my dear heroic French, they justify my faithful affection: and yet by no means do I approve of everything done or attempted just now in that wonderful Paris of mine where men see halftruths, .. so high & pure that they are not seen at all by men in general, .. but, still halftruths, and, as such, dangerous or impossible to render into practice. Whatever, for instance, touches upon property, is a wrong, & whatever tends to the production of social equality is absurd & iniquitous, & oppressive in its ultimate ends. Every man shd have the right of climbing—but to say that every man shall equally climb (because the right is equal,) is a wrong against the strong & industrious—& there has been wrong enough in God’s world as He knows,—without introducing a new kind of wrong. Confiscating the royal property, seemed to me, too, unhappy & unworthy: and why destroy titles? why not retain an inexpensive mode of recognizing public services—so much better than any money way, .. and as good as the inch of coloured ribband in the button hole? Hereditary distinction, is a different question. Let the notion of priviledged orders perish, as it ought. Robert & I agree nearly on all these points, but here & there we have plenty of room for battles– And yet I made him laugh out the other evening by saying gravely, “Certainly we never fight”. “As if it were possible”, he said, “for him to fight his Ba”.!!– All the while, England is doing nothing .. & pray be good enough to reflect that it is by no means because England has won everything, or more, even, than other nations, previous to their late struggles. Mr Tulk had tea with us yesterday evening (the last of March) and we agreed to wonder how long England would bear on, & submit to be miles behind the rest of the world– Oh sleek carriage-horses, used to the harness—how long? Mr Tulk is looking ten years younger, & surprisingly better in all ways; & the Cottrells being about to spend the evening in society, he was kind enough to come to us at our coffee hour. He likes to talk to Robert, who moreover gave him a letter of Beethoven’s to minister to another of his tastes– He said quite earnestly, that the times were unmistakeable, .. “the times of the last judgment, without any doubt”. Did I not tell you yesterday, on the paper behind, how the prophets wd prophecy? even those of Swedenborg, you see? I asked him .. “And how, Mr Tulk, do you suppose it all will end?” “Oh, happily—most happily”. In a millennium of political prosperity, he supposes– Not quite, the Plymouth idea of one. Louisa Ley has been ill .. with a nervous attack on her chest, including great pain. Entirely nervous, they say it was. The Leys go in a month to the Baths of Lucca .. or at least talk of it– The Cottrells remove to their new house today, in which Mr Tulk has a sitting room & bedroom to himself. They have taken this apartment for two or three years unfurnished, & have purchased the furniture—giving (says Mr Tulk) four & sixpence for what wd cost a guinea in England. At that rate!– The cheapness he considers something wonderful. Many of the English are flying from Florence, tranquil as Florence is, and absurd as all fear is– Pray, pray, never be afraid for us, whatever you may read in the papers or listen to elsewhere. The air just now is “full of noises, that give affright, & hurt not”. [7] Suppose the worst & most improbable, that the Austrians marched straight on us ..! Well, we are not going to fight, you may be certain. We shall be safe as you are. In the nearly impossible case of any bombardment, we should rush away, be certain. The panic in France & Italy is absurd– If people will but stay quietly where they are, the storm will pass & the sun come out & justify them. Yet while I write this I am a little uneasy about the dear Hedleys .. I am afraid that their courage will not hold up to the end, & that dear uncle Hedley may, at a sacrifice, rescue his property from the hands of the Gaul, whereas he has only to wait & escape loss of any kind. Oh—it quite pains me to think that I ought to have answered his letter long since. I waited, through a foolish dislike of writing undecidedly .. then, just as I was about to write, just as I said to Robert .. “tomorrow I will write to uncle Hedley” .. came my illness, & this is the first letter I have had leave to set hand to since I wrote last to you. Robert has a prejudice against the fatigue of writing .. whereas I am confident that it does me no manner of harm. Only what am I to answer when he says “For my sake, Ba.” He has had pain enough & too much by me, already. So, because it makes him uneasy, I submit. Also, he would let me write now to uncle Hedley, but he advises me not to do it for other reasons,—being sure that the Hedleys have not resisted the current of France all this while, .. & having seen in one of the papers, that letters addressed to the English residents, are often opened in France at the present crisis. “Depend upon it,” he says, “your uncle & his family are in England at this moment– Dont be so foolish as to write without knowing where they are”. Therefore, Henrietta, I want you both to tell me particularly about the Hedleys, & in the case of their being still in France, write at once to Aunt Jane– Will you? just to prevent her from thinking me indifferent & unkind– On the contrary, I have thought much & much of them all .. & dear uncle Hedley’s affectionateness, welcome in the first instance, has never since passed from my memory & heart. When I know them to be at Tours, they shall hear directly from me: & I do hope they are there on any account. All will end well in France, be sure, to those who “wait for the morning.” [8] Poor Bummy will be dreadfully uneasy I dare say, about her shares in the railways—yet she need not. All is sure to end well. This is just the time for brave men to make their fortunes. I write this on the 1st of April. The weather is exquisite,—& we have had no fire since the 15th when I was taken ill. On the twelfth Robert said .. “On this day last year you were taken ill! Take care, lest it happen now.” I was pert, & begged him not to remind me of fatal anniversaries, as I had no taste for them. On the fifteenth, I was in bed again .. A second Daniel, as to prophecies!– [9] But you understand that I am well ‘at this writing’, & getting stronger & stronger. I asked Dr H. if it were likely to recur, & he answered, “Not, if I avoided all effort & excitement.” Perhaps he may have something better to say when he sees me next “as a friend.” I have been out seven times in the carriage, &, today, was scarcely tired. Thank God for me, whenever you pray, thinking of me. Of course our plans float uncertainly still. We long for you out loud, because two empty seats in the carriage suggest you two—not to mention other times of longing. Robert declares that, as a carriage does me good, he will have one for me while it does. But if he sent me to drive by myself, it could not do me good. I could not help saying the other day, “How good of you to have pleasure (contrary to the manner of men) in driving out with me”. “Good of me indeed!– Why even if it were no happiness to me to be with you, I never cd bear to put you in a carriage & let you go alone.” “Should you be afraid of the wheels coming off—or what?” “I dont know– I shd be wretched to send you by yourself, I know”. That’s the way he is always with me. When he promised to give me his life, it was not a vain word– Tell me if I ought not to love him a little in turn?
Do write & tell me of all. How is dearest Trippy? Mention Papa’s cough particularly. What does he say of these revolutions. Did George prosper on circuit? Mention all of them. My love—& especially to Henry who cares most for it. Surely I must think that. Right of you it was, to hear Thalberg. [10] Say kind words for me to kind friends—among them, to the Cooks. Write, write, write– I hope dear Minny is better. Wilson is not much afraid, but wishes they wd not send away the soldiery, having a disparaging opinion of the civic guard as a protective force– She has been very kind & attentive to me, as ever. How is Crow– Dearest Henrietta, I love you—I love you both & all!– I am
your very own
Ba–
Address, on integral page: To the care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Barrett) / 12. Upper Gloucester Street / Dorset Square / New Road.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 80–82 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark. Chronological placement suggested by the text: “I write this on the 1st of April.” The inclusive dates EBB has given are presumably for the period of time covered by this letter. It appears, however, that she misremembered the date of her last letter to Arabella, which she finished writing on 15 March; see letter 2722.
2. James Harding (1787–1868).
3. After suffering a second miscarriage.
4. i.e., her first miscarriage; see letter 2663.
5. Murray’s Hand-Book for Travellers in Northern Italy (1847), p. 476. Sir Charles Locock (1799–1875), a renowned obstetrician, was in 1840 “appointed first physician accoucheur to Queen Victoria, and attended at the birth of all her children” (DNB).
6. From 18 to 22 March 1848, the citizens of Milan, though lightly armed, defeated and expelled an Austrian occupation force of 15,000 troops. Fighting took place in the streets and was often hand-to-hand. “Butchery” refers to the actions of Austrian soldiers, consisting mainly of Croatians, “who fought without regard for any rules of war. They were said to have burnt whole families alive, and a woman’s hand covered with rings was found in the pocket of a dead Croat soldier” (Edgar Holt, Risorgimento: The Making of Italy, 1815–1870, 1970, p. 141).
7. Cf. The Tempest, III, 2, 135–136. In this and subsequent Shakespearean quotations, the line numbers correspond to those used in The Riverside Shakespeare (Boston, 1974).
8. Cf. Psalm 130:6.
9. Cf. The Merchant of Venice, IV, 1, 333.
10. Sigismond Thalberg (1812–71), a composer and pianist. Surtees Cook recorded in his journal that he, Henrietta, his sister Susan, Miss Minto, and Septimus Moulton-Barrett, “went to Thalberg’s concert at Exeter Hall” (Surtees, 6 March 1848).
___________________
