2722. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 29–37.
Florence–
March 14 & 15. [1848] [1]
My ever beloved Arabel, whether I have, or not, a right to expect a letter from you, I scarcely know. Robert says not. But take notice, all of you, that this is the third at least which I have written, since one has come from you—with the exception of dearest Henrietta’s little scrap of a notelet through Mr Kenyon .... so that, altogether, I am taking the liberty of beginning to be uneasy. My “presentiments” always turn out to be sentiments in the wrong place—otherwise I might say that I seem to feel something wrong somewhere. It is in my head; & I cant get it out of my head. I wrote to Henrietta .... then to Trippy—& now I write to you again. Is it fair, that you dont write to me? Or have you written, & has the letter perished in the revolution at Paris, [2] as I fancy sometimes? Tell me how Wimpole Street is in politics—how dear Papa likes the great change. For my part, republican as I am by profession, I was quite shaken by the sense of the misfortunes of the Orleans family, the grey discrowned King, [3] —and his sons & daughters turned back on the threshold of so bright a life. Then, there were dreadful reports here .. of the Duc de Nemours being shot through the head! [4] & Robert heard besides though he did not tell me, that the Duc de Montpensier [5] had been torn to pieces by the people, & that Louis Phillippe himself had died of apoplexy, in the emotion of hearing of it. I was quite shaken & could’nt help crying at every turn of the day, it made me so nervous. It made me laugh, after, when Wilson told me that kindest dearest Robert would’nt quit the house without leaving instructions to her, to beg of any possible visitor who might have access to me in his absence, “not to say anything, about the French Revolution, to Mrs Browning.” If a visitor had [6] come, there wd have been a curious impression produced, I think, respecting Mrs Browning’s susceptibility to politics. Oh, but it was so sudden, so unexpected!—and while the great edifice of French nationality was shuddering to its base, who could be calm, .. & what safety, sure, in the falling & crushing of the towers? Now, that we can breathe & look around us, .. & see no more lives lost than the crisis naturally involved, .. now, I take up my republicanism, & am cordially glad that the experiment of the most rational & sincere of governments, a pure democracy, should be tried for Europe. Robert & I agree & thoroughly agree in politics as in other things; & we talk & talk on this subject, very seldom differing on any angle of it. That Louis Phillippe has not been true to the popular principle which crowned him, is certain– I do consider, however, that he sinned rather up to the moment of the Reform banquet, than in that moment. [7] To be just, as we should all try to be, the calling out by a private committee, of ten thousand national guards in the streets of Paris, was undeniably illegal: and a “monster meeting” in the heart of a city, (& that city, excitable Paris!) was more rationally alarming than a monster-meeting on the plains of Ireland, such as was put down without much scruple or blame, by our own government. [8] The event proved that the Banquet itself wd have been better than what was found to replace it—but men cant reason from events backward, when they have to act forwards. The sin was in the general policy—in the refusal of an enlarged franchise, & reforms generally—& the sin has paid its price. Oh, that poor, poor Louis Phillippe—that poor, noble Duchess of Orleans, & her little son! [9] What a drama! how passionate & moving!– And then, on the other side, the Provisional Government, with a poet for the soul of it– Lamartine has made us proud of him! [10] he will teach the world how poetical men can be practical men when they please. And the first acts—the abolition of death for political offences .. (Grand, that was!) & the abolition of slavery .. which will startle America into a little shame, I hope. As to the doing away with titles .. it is another thing; & Robert & I agree that the thing is absurd altogether. They should disassociate the titles from feudal & political priviledges of every sort—so, most righteous!—but no man has any business with my own personal distinction, with my name, or with the red ribband in my buttonhole .. it is a species of property & ought to be sacred. On the whole, my love for the French has been charmed & flattered by this great change. Curious, it is. After one of our talks, about two months ago, Robert said with an emphatic sigh .. “Ah Ba! I see there’s no hope for me! You wont let me off going to Paris to stay, I see. Well—only wait till there’s a republic in France, & then we’ll go.” To which I answered pertly that I shdnt wait for anything of the kind—for that it was all stuff—his pretending not to like Paris, when he knew in his heart that he did like it, & when there was George Sand to see, & Balzac, & Victor Hugo, & ever so many good for nothing men & women, besides pictures & statues & palaces—! So, we talked—and, behold!, almost while we talked, the tocsin sounded & the scene changed, & France was a republic!——
You will set me down as bewitched, Arabel, for sending you all these politics—you wd rather hear about Flush perhaps! Or as dear Mr Kenyon wrote the other day .. “Tell me of yourselves, & skip Regenerated Italy”. By the way, if he is as vexed as I am, about Mr Landor’s ungenerous letter, he is vexed. [11] I cant get over it—though for your sake, Arabel, I will try .. & write of something else. Robert’s second edition [12] .. did I tell you of that? Yes, I think so. It is our chief subject just now. I sewed, stitched, paper to paper for him yesterday, .. to his astonishment & my own admiration. If I could have a dear, pleasant letter from you, now, I should be very well indeed: even as it is, I am well .. <saving the sickness, .. which prevents … & though by no means … my appetite for breakfast & dinner.> [13] It seems to me that, since the capacious days of my childhood, I really never had a better appetite. I can manage a whole mutton chop for dinner, for instance, & take pudding besides:—only you need’nt quite think that I “eat till I am sick”, (perhaps dear Minny may suggest that theory!) for it is in all simplicity of diet, understand, & in all studiousness of the digestive dialectics. Mr Tulk sends us Galignani’s till we are quite grateful to him. He is the kindest, most benevolent man. Shame to us, it wd be, if we did’nt, in return, pay the right reverence to Swedenborg’s blue-tunic’d angels! And Arabel, you are to interpret more gently, if you please, what I said rashly about the sons in law. There is a great deal of good I do not doubt in both of them—& Mr Ley is an excellent liberal & very affectionate in his home feelings. Sophia seems to me out of spirits—but it may be manner or want of health. Her father wd not look so happy if his daughter had reason for being otherwise. Dear dearest Arabel, dont let me forget telling you what comes to my thoughts at wrong times—pray dont buy Tennyson’s Princess for me. Now, I am in earnest, Arabel. When an opportunity shall occur of our being able to read it, Moxon will certainly send it to us—he could’nt do otherwise—though he is a shabby man, & I am in the worst humour with him possible, just now. Shameful it was, to refuse the risk of Robert’s second edition, after some thirteen years publishing connection, & having been paid throughout & step by step. Mere strangers like Chapman & Hall, [14] do that for him, as strangers, which a friend refuses to do– Oh, I have quite been in a passion, .. a good rational passion, that is! You heard in my last letter that George was wrong in his way of expounding my secret. You will know it in the course of the summer—or sooner, perhaps. I shall ask for leave to tell you. At last I have written to Mrs Martin who deserved better of me; [15] but very lazy & disinclined have I been about writing .. there’s the truth– Oh—it is’nt a truth for you in Wimpole Street, mind—always I behave well to you, I think. Enclose this little note to Storm—& the other you will either send or take to Mr Boyd. Arabel; write & tell me everything. Have you heard from Annie Hayes, .. & what? Undoubtedly if her father has it in his power to advance any part of her claim, he ought to do it: and if Jane shd be using her influence in any unrighteous way, there is dreadful injustice done, which ought to be revolted against. [16] Now, would it be impossible for you to touch on the subject to him? I would, in a moment, I assure you—& I dont like to write, only because of my ignorance of the circumstances. I must believe in Mr Boyd’s essential justice & integrity—I mean as far as his intentions go—but he is perfectly capable of acting unjustly without knowing it. Say, that he has only two hundred a year through the adversities of Ireland—one hundred should go to his daughter, even so. Is’nt it plain & clear & just, Arabel? The circumstances are peculiar, & very hard.
How glad I shall be to have a letter from Wimpole Street– I really am uneasy, though Nelly Bordman, whom I heard from yesterday, talks of your all being well when she last had news of you:—but when might that have been? You might manage to write oftener, you dear, wicked people! Robert & I wish, one to another, that we had been in Paris at the time of crisis. Where we were before, in the hotel de la ville de Paris, was close to the great scene—we used to pass every day that beautiful church of the Madelaine, [17] to the restaurateur’s. Under any other circumstances it wd have been great shame to stay so short a time in Paris & see scarcely anything, & certainly it must be corrected one day. Dear dearest Arabel, in all your words & in all my thoughts I sympathize with you more deeply than I can say. Never think that in weighing the feelings of others I think lightly of yours. May God help us all—where the prop is needed we find His hand. Tell me of our dear Trippy. In what way, is she “not as well as we could wish”? I get uneasy in the thought of her, with no better account than that. Is she less strong, or what? Do tell me. As to our plans, they remain & must remain in the highest degree uncertain—only that in seven weeks we assuredly must get out of this house if we dont mean to be roasted like larks, in a true Italian manner. Whether we shall be able to leave Florence as soon, is another consideration—I do not know. Oh Arabel, you dont doubt that I long to see you & all of you—but what if I should not be able to travel—for one thing. You must see that it does not depend on us, not on our will & choice. It will be dreadful (using soft words) to stay in Florence in the noon of the summer; and to get into shadow somewhere in the mountains, would be pleasant—but we cant say a decisive word, either for England or the Baths of Lucca, or Catigliana, [18] a mountain-place among the chesnut-forests, wild & lonely & with exquisite scenery .. only one must be sure of not needing medical help before one goes there. Supposing that we had to stay in Italy this whole summer, it wd be a place for change of air & rest, when one had ceased to require anything else. I say all this as bare supposition, mind—& ever so many “ifs” are between it & us.——
Ah, you dearest, kindest Henrietta & Arabel, both of you, I have your letter at last .. Henrietta’s outside, written in such a gigantic hand, & Arabel’s inside, in the rational minute comprehensive way. I grudge all the large bold writing—mind! But, first, thank you, thank you. I positively had had it in my head that something was wrong with somebody. Thank God, above all. You say nothing of Trippy this time. I mean, of her health. Give my dearest Trippy three kisses for me, & tell [her] I have thought of her more than usual lately & not with as much pleasure. What you said, Arabel, was entangled in my thoughts of her. Here’s the spring when everybody ought to be well & strong, & I do hope when I go to England (whenever it may be) to find her as brisk & bright as ever, dear thing. Pray in the meanwhile let none of you be uneasy about the safety of the expatriated English. Nothing can be more absurd than the panic which, I dont deny, is sweeping people to England. If the Austrians were to come, why what then? And do you imagine the Austrians more likely to come, because the French revolution has secured help to the Italians? Three times, no. As to France, the English are perfectly safe there, let whatever happen– If they were safe, in the height of the Parisian fury, are they to be in danger now? Robert is quite chafed by the cowardice shown generally by English residents. Florence is as quiet as Wimpole Street—& considerably quieter than Pall Mall according to Henrietta’s last report. [19] Our noble Tuscans are charmed with their new epaulettes, & look rather that way, than to the edges of their swords. Austria, on the other hand, proves by the dismissal of Prince Met[t]ernich (that most significant act) that she contemplates no aggressive policy. [20] Now, pray put out of your heads that we are at the “post of danger”: People cant be safer anywhere in the world, than precisely here.– My dearest Arabel, .. if pictures could have souls in them, how mine wd have kissed you again! My soul kisses you now over the mountains! Do you fancy that I have forgotten how I owe myself to you in a Daguer[re]otype or otherwise? Ah indeed—I shamefully did cheat you—there’s the truth! but you shall have a better resemblance of me than that .. you shall see. Probably your copy is a far better painting than the wretched thing in question .. which Robert thinks like, in spite of every fault. Did ever I tell you? It is hung in the drawing room at Hatcham, & visitors constantly take it for a likeness of Sarianna Browning—whereas a sketch of her, sent to us since we have been in Italy, is nearly always supposed by visitors to us, to be my portrait. [21] It is the hair, I think, which hangs in ringlets—but Robert insists on it that a real likeness exists between me & his sister, & that often he feels inclined to call me ‘Sarianna’. Of course his mother must miss him .. & I say, that, if she could hate anybody, she must hate me, for taking him away from her. If he went out to walk, he used to run all over the house to find her, & kiss her, first. With a peculiar tenderness, he has always loved his mother, & she him. Do you imagine that she can see him taken away & kept away, quite equably? Yet she & they all apply the most affectionate words to me … though I dare say they do set it down as my f<ault> altogether .. which it is not. To settle in England, <…> would of course be bad for me—but there is another obj<ection …> my health. Certainly one might live in Devonshire or Wale<s …> or rather Sette—it is Sette, I think, who says so? one <…> in Devonshire Somersetshire & Wales, .. but neither to our satisfaction nor <…> We shd be at a distance from our families, just the <…> hate that sort of benighted provincial living. To <…> is one thing, with the means & appliances of refined lif<e …> know what I like—your “cottage”, Arabel, is the last thing to <…> Robert or me—& Henrietta’s “cottage” is considerably worse. No—our ideal is to pass our summers in England, & our winters nearer the sun—but we are interrupted sometimes in the pursuit of an Ideal, you see, be it ever so earnest, & then, that is the fault of neither of us. It does not hurt me to write, at all—walking does not agree so well, unfortunately .. but I assure you I am as well as possible.
<…> [22]
There is not the slightest swelling of the ankles, which when in Paris, & in the hot early part of last summer, I observed a little; the heat & unusual exercise accounting for it at the time. But my feet never swell now on any pretext—I wish you wd tell me as much of yours. And your headaches, Arabel—you, who expect people to be so wonderfully “open”, & “candid” by all manner of difficult virtues, & never say a word of yourself! How vexed, how vexed I am, that you shd have been disappointed so inconsiderately & hardly!– Indeed it was very hard!– Oh, if Papa wd but sympathize a little .. a very little more! how different it would be for you all, & how happy for himself. I said last night to Robert .. “Now, with these successful emeutes on all sides of us, I do think that women ought <… fo>r their part, & reorganize their position.”– “My little <…>, said Robert, “what kind of liberty do you want?. or what change in the government? Take whatever you like .. choose any kind of constitution you please! I [23] am no obstacle to anything.” “No,” I answered .. “I was’nt thinking of myself, but of other women .. of women in the mass—of the daughters & the wives, who must be obedient without regard to their own feelings or opinions”.– Seriously, it is a great evil that personal liberty should be restrained by social obstacles—more ruinous to the happiness of individuals, than all the political obstacles in the world .. Thank dear Lizzie for her note– Have I thanked you & Henrietta? Give my love to them all, dear things. I will write, but I do write far oftener than you. If anything were wrong, you wd hear from Robert, be sure. My regards to the Strattens—& all who think kindly of me. Love to dear Minny. I am so glad she is better. Always mention Papa—his cough has surely lasted long. Write to me Arabel, every little detail– I am your own
ever loving
Ba–
Address, on integral page: To the care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Arabel Barrett) / 12. Upper Gloucester Street / Dorset Square / New Road.
Publication: EBB-AB, I, 155–162.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. Year provided by EBB’s references to the revolution in France.
2. In February 1848, fighting broke out in Paris which resulted in the overthrow of the July Monarchy and the establishment of a provisional government on 24 February.
3. Louis Philippe (1773–1850) had reigned as King of France since 1830. With the resignation of his cabinet ministers on 23 February, and faced with revolution in the streets, the king abdicated the next day. He and his wife, the Sicilian princess, Marie Amélie de Bourbon (1782–1866), fled to England. They were joined there by their seven living children (four sons and three daughters).
4. Louis Charles, Duc de Nemours (1814–96), the second son of Louis Philippe was not “shot through the head.” “On the outbreak of the revolution of 1848 he held the Tuileries long enough to cover the king’s retreat, but refrained from initiating active measures against the mob. He followed his sister-in-law, the duchess of Orléans, and her two sons to the chamber of deputies, but was separated from them by the rioters, and only escaped finally by disguising himself in the uniform of a national guard. He embarked for England, where he settled with his parents at Claremont” (EB).
5. Antoine, Duc de Montpensier (1824–1900) was the youngest son of Louis Philippe. His marriage to Luisa, Infanta of Spain, in October 1846, had seriously affected relations between France and England and contributed to his father’s downfall.
6. Underscored three times.
7. Due to the intransigence of Guizot and Louis Philippe against basic reform measures, the opposition had gained momentum by holding a series of banquets to promote their agenda. The government’s prohibition of the last in this series, planned for 22 February 1848 in Paris, triggered the insurrection.
8. “Monster-meeting” was the term used to describe the enormous crowds that gathered to hear Daniel O’Connell’s speeches in the early 1840’s. These gatherings, sometimes numbering more than half a million, were not violent, nor were they intended to incite violence, but when militaristic language was used to promote a meeting at Clontarf in October 1843, Peel’s government banned it.
9. EBB is referring to Louis Philippe, Comte de Paris (1838–94), the eldest son of Ferdinand, the late Duc d’Orléans (1810–42) and Hélène Louise of Mecklenberg-Schwerin (1814–58). In the instrument of abdication, Louis Philippe wrote: “I abdicate this crown which the will of the nation called me to wear in favour of my grandson the Comte de Paris. May he succeed in the great task which falls to him today” (T.E.B. Howarth, Citizen-King: The Life of Louis-Philippe, 1961, p. 325). Although an attempt was made by the Duchesse d’Orléans to secure the throne for her young son, it proved unsuccessful, and she was forced to flee—first to Saxony and then to England.
10. Alphonse Marie Louis de Prat de Lamartine (1790–1869), romantic poet, statesman and orator, was one of the leaders of the provisional government that replaced the July Monarchy. Despite his determined efforts, Lamartine proved incapable of coping with the political turmoil of the time. In the January 1849 elections he received only a small percentage of the vote and subsequently resigned on 24 June of that year.
11. We have been unable to clarify EBB’s remark about “Landor’s ungenerous letter.”
12. RB’s first collected edition, Poems (1849).
13. Passage in angle brackets is partially reconstructed, having been obliterated after receipt, probably by Arabella.
14. The firm of Chapman and Hall was headed by Edward Chapman (1804–80). His younger cousin, Frederic Chapman (1823–95), had succeeded William Hall as partner in 1847. RB recounted his switch to Chapman and Hall in a letter to Frederick Locker, dated 20 February 1874: “When I married, I proposed that he [Moxon] should publish a new edition at his own risk, which he declined,—whereupon I made the same proposal to Chapman & Hall,—or Forster did it for me,—and they accepted” (ms at ABL). EBB’s Poems (1850) was also published by Chapman and Hall who remained the Brownings’ publisher until RB went over to Smith, Elder & Co. in late 1867.
15. EBB’s most recent letter to Mrs. Martin was written on 7 August 1847 (letter 2692).
16. Jane Miller had been a servant in Boyd’s household since as early as 1830. In his will Boyd declares that “my daughter Mrs. Hayes late Miss Boyd is already provided for by the property which she now possesses and which she will take at my decease and therefore I make no further provision for her by this my Will.” After making a few specific bequests (including two Greek books to EBB), he bequeaths “all the Residue of my personal Estate and Effects unto my faithful Attendant Jane Miller the Wife of Mr. William Miller of Kentish Town in the County of Middlesex Baker absolutely for her own sole and separate use and benefit and I do hereby nominate and appoint the said Jane Miller Executrix of this my Will” (Public Record Office, London). The “adversities of Ireland” refers to the effects of the recent famine on Boyd’s land interests there.
17. The church of the Madeleine, a classical Corinthian-style temple surrounded by a colonnade, lies at one end of the Rue Royale, facing the Place de la Concorde. Construction on the church, begun in 1764, was interrupted many times before its completion in 1842. During Napoleon’s reign the original design was altered to its present form and was “intended by the emperor as a ‘temple of glory’” (EB).
18. Sic, for Cutigliano, a small village on the Lima river northeast of Bagni di Lucca.
19. On 6 March there were demonstrations in central London against the income tax. Most of the activity took place in Trafalgar Square and Charing Cross, but at one point the demonstrators marched down Pall Mall, shouting and breaking street lamps as they made their way toward Buckingham Palace.
20. An uprising in Austria forced Metternich to step down. He submitted his resignation on 13 March 1848, and the emperor accepted it on the 18th. Afterwards, Metternich and his family left Austria for England where they resided in Brighton and London until October 1849 (EB).
21. This likeness of Sarianna, which formed lot 4 of Browning Collections (see Reconstruction, H25) and is now at ABL, may have been painted by Fanny Haworth (see letter 2683); it is reproduced facing p. 48. The portrait of EBB that hung at Hatcham was a miniature painted by Matilda Carter in 1841 (reproduced as the frontispiece to vol. 5), which EBB gave to RB in March 1846 (see letters 2270 and 2277). It formed lot 1410 of Browning Collections (see Reconstruction, F11) and is now in the Robert Browning Settlement, London.
22. About three-fourths of a line has been obliterated after receipt, probably by Arabella.
23. Underscored twice.
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