2728. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 52–61.
Florence.
April 15– 17– [1848] [1]
My own dearest Arabel, you have not been the least, least, uneasy about me, of course, through the past fortnight? There was nothing for me, you know, but to get better & better: & better & better I have become, thank God. Every day we have our drive, & every day I come back with more colour in my cheeks, till how it is to end, the peonies only can suggest to you. What a scheme you have made for me, to go to England by a Leghorn & Southhampton packet—now listen! If I did it, we shd set off three,—& arrive one. Wilson wd be quite slain, & Robert nearly so .. & Flush & I should have to nurse all the way as cheerfully as we could. Indeed Flush offers a protest of his own inasmuch as people have a barbarous mania for chaining dogs upon deck all night, & he has horrible recollections of a certain passage to Havre, when a lady with six screaming children objected to the nuisance of my having Flush with me in the same cabin, & delivered him over to the tormentors though he had escaped from them to me for the third time. Finally, all the packets for the next three months are engaged by fugitives from Italy .. swept away by the great panic here! Such nonsense! such cowardice! Captains & Colonels running as if a mad bull were after them! If they were to run so on a field of battle, they wd really “cover themselves with glory”. Tuscany, meanwhile, as quiet as a sheepfold! only that the soldiers have gone out of it to do battle in Lombardy against the Austrians [2] .. which makes Wilson have misgivings on the power of the civic guard to protect her, notwithstanding the new epaulettes. But we are as quiet, as quiet—you wd not know that anything was going on except the selling of leeks & roses, in all Florence. And even if the Italian cause does not triumph, (and it will, I pray God!) & even if the Austrians marched here to thank our Grand Duke for declaring war on them, .. why, what then? What’s to happen to the English, I wonder, who keep in doors & shut their windows? Besides, there’s always time to run– Our knapsack is soon made up, you see—& we need not wait till you take a lodging for us. But you will understand my darling Arabel that we have not settled our plans yet & that we cant—only if we dont go to England this summer, you will certainly have us with the early spring (if it shall please God), & in that case, we may stay longer than now we could: it might be more satisfactory in all ways. I am scheming against Robert that when, after being in England, we have to return, we may reduce the expense (the expense of going & coming in one year being so heavy.) by spending the next winter in the south of France instead of Italy. The sea-expenses are heavier than those of a land journey—but we are not forced into Italy exactly. Oh, I wish Italy were as near as Paris—but we cant “annihilate time & space”, [3] let us knit our brows ever so. The railways will however do something of the sort, & I dont despair even of the railways in France. That dear uncle Hedley shd have resolved notwithstanding, on leaving Tours, scarcely surprises us .. though we would have stayed—& are quite ready (by the way) to occupy either of his houses that he will leave to our occupancy. Still, with the children, & his power of moving backward & forward, there’s no wondering at his decision—and now do send me his address that I may write at once to him, dear, kind uncle Hedley. Oh, I would not have him think me ungrateful for the world, France included. As to France, we are very anxious, .. & rather painfully than joyfully are reading of the state of things there. All will come right at last—but as Robert says, “how many hearts may be broken in the meanwhile, is another question”. Promises of impossible good are extended to men who from want of education & habits of reflection, look rather to the ends than to the means. When a majority plays a game of thick sticks against instructed heads, humanity in general is sure to suffer. I quite tremble to think of the wild, rampant doctrines of some of those communists, which, if carried out, would destroy the individuality of men, break off, like Tarquin, the heads of the flowers, [4] & blunt the points of all energy & genius. Monastic & conventual institutions are not, as has again & again been proved, favorable to the evolvement of great faculties—neither do they make men purer in the mass: and although it is quite possible & certain indeed for families to gain everything in point of œconomy, by voluntary association of life … by living together in large houses, purchasing together, & cooking together—yet this is to be done by voluntary & individual association, & not by government-scheming, I think, if it is to be done with impunity to real freedom. When governments begin to be patriarchal, they are sure to end by being absolute—this has been from the beginning of the world. I fear much then for liberty & nobleness of soul, in the midst of these theories devised by men of the noblest souls & purest virtues, themselves .. though, for the most part, unbelieving men (however they may talk of Christianity), & therefore incredulous of the inborn infirmities of the humanity they speak of. Still, one must go with them to a certain point—to communism of education, for instance, by the Law: & they lay the precisely right stress upon that necessity, which is the foundation-stone of all.– Just see how I write, as if it were lawful to [write] prose across the Alps—it’s bad enough, foot by foot on the fender! But the times are so extraordinary, that they force one to talk of them, in & out of season. I never in my life was half as anxious about public affairs; & who can help it I wonder. Why England should be tranquil (if you really keep quiet in England) passes my understanding,—unless it proves, which I suspect it does, that the understanding of your masses is not as politically ripened as in France. And then, the freedom of discussion is a safety-valve for the moment—but we shall see. The inequality between class & class, & the power of priviledge, are wrongs infinitely more rampant in England than Louis Phillippe left them in France, .. however you may all refuse him your sympathy, cruel people that you are. The bitter wrong of primogeniture, & of legislative priviledge by birth, cry up out of the ground [5] .. particularly from the acres of those “ancient parks” which are made a boast of so curiously. Now every year, as it passes, subdivides property in France—(apart from all revolution) precisely as every year accumulates it in England: & under Louis Phillippe, there was no aristocracy, to speak accurately, .. none in a political sense at all. There—now I wont write a word more of this. Everyday we expect to hear of an outbreak in Ireland. Tell Henry that if he puts down the Kennington common meeting, [6] he will do just what Louis P___ did, over again—no more nor less—& pray let him take care of himself for the sake of some who love him. I get a little nervous to think of it. By the bye, when I am talking most valorously about Austrian armies & the like, & suddenly the table cracks, & I cry out “What’s that”? .. a little paler perhaps than usual, .. Robert begins, “Do you know, Ba, I have certain doubts of your extraordinary courage .. now & then, .. however I may admire it at other times.” To which I reply that a sceptical state of mind is by no means to be encouraged—& that, in fact, I am afraid of only a few things in the world .. for instance, of thunder & lightning, ghosts, musquitoes, & a tête à tête with Dr Alnutt [7] & others,—the Austrians being all on one side. By the bye again .. think of Dr Alnutt’s being one of the physicians whom we ran for when I was ill .. Dr Harding & Dr Trotman both being out. Happily, Dr Alnutt was out too, .. & the note left for Dr Harding brought him straightway. We did not, either of us, choose Dr A—only somebody was wanted quickly, if good were to be done at all. Henrietta seems to be by no means charmed with him. The Leys, & probably the Cottrells, go to the Baths of Lucca for the summer—Mr Tulk, too. These last are settled in their new house, which I & Robert shall go to see in a few days– I have been waiting to get stronger. Count Cottrell’s paintings, I hear, adorn the walls of it– Oh, I assure you he’s a count! and Sophia seals her notes with a coronet; besides the “great fact” of the cards. Everyday we meet the whole party driving in the Cascine—except Count Cottrell himself who may have better things to do. Today the beautiful Cascine were full of Florence, it being a holiday; yet holiday or not, the indefatigable people were shooting at their usual mark, an Austrian soldier—not a live one, understand! if so, they might not hit so fast.–
Miss Boyle has sent us Tennyson’s Princess, having managed at last, in her active kindness, to borrow it for us. Oh, and I am so disappointed! indeed we both are. Even the beauty is not to the height of the beautiful in his former works—& the flatnesses & weaknesses are many. Yet exquisite things there are, & we shd be properly grateful after all. Only why shd Mr Forster & others announce the new lamp as outshining the old ones: [8] Mr Forster said so to us. Robert’s edition is just in the press, so you need not look for it out of it for the present. I dont at all like having a different publisher; but as my poems will be out of print in the course of this year, according to Moxon’s account which we have just received, (fifty copies were left at the end of last December:) perhaps Chapman & Hall will take my second edition beside .. that is, when I come to ask them. Moxon sends us more than fifty pounds for the year’s profit, advertisements &c being deducted. You see that poet’s trade is by no means as bad as might be thought! He however is pathetic about having to break with us all on behalf of his large family, & never intending at whatever expense of private friendship, to publish anything but prose any more: & Robert is going to write & part goodnaturedly from him. [9] At the same time I cant but think from the tenure of his own account, that he has not done so very badly by us, & moreover that it’s his own fault if he did not do still better. If he had undertaken all at his risk, our gain wd have been his—and the percentage for his money, not so miserable. You will see how Robert’s new edition, with the advantages of type & energetic advertising, will sell! Of Paracelsus, not a copy remains. A hundred & fifty copies of my poems sold last year—so that the sale continues regularly on my side also. The Brownings are about to have their house painted & done up in various ways, in order to which their furniture is to be packed & they themselves to migrate to Windsor for a part of the summer—so, you observe, if we had fixed on England we should have gone at an untoward moment. It seems wiser for every reason therefore to delay a little—though you may count on us as far as human beings may count on anything, for next spring—& though I miss great happiness in the meanwhile– Ah, tell me that you are not too much disappointed. How vain of me to say that “tell me”. You see, I cant believe a word of your “callous heartedness”, not though you bring in Mary Minto as witness– I know you too well, Arabel. Laugh if you like,—but anything I wd give to have you happily married, after that own heart of yours—yes indeed, I think often of it. The nunnery will by no means answer—you belong to me, mind, when other people leave go of you. Then you “revert” to me: as the lawyers say of estates & money—& certainly you are a golden part of my riches. Robert holds with me in this as in the rest—& so you need’nt say shaking your head, that I have a husband. I have a husband I thank God .. but I have him to make me happy & not the contrary: & if I wanted to grieve him, it wd be by seeming for a moment to separate my good & his. You ought to have seen his face when I happened to say the other day that I was quite ashamed at everything that was spent, being spent for me .. “Ba .. do not say such words—you must know that they go to my heart. I entreat you never to say them again”. And often he wishes for you .. & Henrietta too .. dearest Henrietta. So my secret is out! Well—it’s time to deliver it I suppose .. & I did long to say ‘Ay’ to your admirable guess, except for the fear that Nelly might do just what she has done .. tell you herself, & so catch in your countenance the fact of my treachery. I must confess that I was very much astonished—& that when her letter informed me of her being about to marry, I yet did not anticipate the name– I quite exclaimed aloud & struck my hands together .. to Robert’s profound wonder, as he sate at dinner looking at me while I read. The difference of age is so great!– And yet again, on the whole, I grew glad after reflection. Even marriage is not the same thing to all persons—and women are satisfied in having to look up & love up, on any terms. Nelly Bordman has for ever so many years quite adored that good, admirable Mr Jago—she is thoughtful & earnest, & has outlived all girlish levities, even if once she partook them—which I dont think: she always was earnest & thoughtful. As she says herself, she could not be happy apart from the Hammersmith attraction [10] —and as Mr Jago set his heart on her in that particular way, why I do think that she was right & wise in letting her own speak to the same cadence:—yes, both wise & right. For the rest, dont be uneasy for them, even if one cries “child” & the other answers “Sir”. There may be the utmost reverence & tenderness, you know, even without that familiarity of sympathetic companionship, which would certainly be a difficult condition between hair so very white, & so very brown. He will pet her a good deal, I hope .. & she, I am sure, will do all but worship the twinkling of his eyelids:—and an admirable, saintlike man he is, for whom God has reserved this compensation. Did she tell you that his desire was for her to be married … now guess! .. in white muslin? I hope it may answer as well as my old brown muslin, .. a shred of which Robert begged of me & keeps in his desk for a relic. Your fear lest this marriage shd produce a sensation & some talking in Hammersmith is mine too– People are sure to gossip a little about a household’s so shifting its construction: but what then? No harm has been done—and doers of a pure conscience may be courageous against the harm which is talked, or implied even. Nelly seemed nervous, poor thing, at having to tell her relatives & friends,—none of them very near though, or able to pretend to constraining her. Mr Jago has himself been the most tenderly like a relative—& now he may well keep the first place. How strange that people shd flock into marriages so! It’s the comet perhaps! [11] the same influence which sets the nations revolutionizing. And you never told me how Mrs Orme’s daughter came to be a widow with a new name? [12] Whom & how did she marry? Does Mrs Orme ever ask of me? Give my love to her in any case. Tell me too of Emma Monro– Is she happy still? You are safe with me, remember: & I know that she cd keep nothing from you. Did’nt I promise to tell you the truth if ever I married? And I have told it often enough surely. Give three kisses to my dearest Trippy, & thank her for keeping Robert in her thoughts (did’nt she say so?) because of his being good to me. Her affectionate thoughts I like to be kept in—like it both for him & myself. She is in mine too, indeed. Tell me what you mean about her feet? Has she had a return of the pain in the heel? or has it been gout—or what? Now tell me exactly, Arabel. I do trust that the lovely spring may renew & revive her, as it does to the elm-trees. It is full summer here—the foliage at its height & breadth; & not a leaf burnt yet at the sun, like a moth’s wing! We talk & talk of going here & there, .. & yearn a little (if we cant get to you) to go into the mountains .. to some wilder place than the Baths of Lucca, if possible. But our Cutigliano is filled with troops .. & then, we must think rather of our defences, notwithstanding the valour of one of us. (Of course, me!) The other day as I came in to breakfast, I said to Robert .. “Well,—its all over with us! we shant be able to leave Florence this summer again, do what we can.” Such a face of consternation he put on—“what can you mean, Ba?”– “Why, I mean this—Wilson gave sundry of my medecine-bottles to Anunziata the day before yesterday; and yesterday Anunziata filled one of them with oil & carried it to the church of Santa Trinitá, [13] & then & there lighted a lamp to the virgin, putting up an especial prayer that the Holy Mother would not permit the Signor & Signora Browning to stir from Florence throughout the summer. And so, you see, dear, we’re in for it, & you may go & take a house at once.” It was complimentary to us of Anunziata— .. was’nt it? .. to wish to keep us at the expense .. of a bottle of oil? Oh, and I assure you, it was the very best oil, .. she told Wilson;—for otherwise, it would’nt have been complimentary to the Madonna.–
Poor Miss Boyle is in despair at having to leave Italy .. for she is going with the panic-people, on account of Lady Boyle who is old & infirm. Dr Harding held up his hands & eyes at the absurdity of the English who run, with so little cause for running. Mr Hillard returned from Rome the day before yesterday, spent a few hours in Florence, on the road to Paris, & thought me “looking better” than in the autumn—so you may conclude that my late illness left most fugitive signs of its whereabouts. Indeed I am looking quite well again, &, though not yet as strong as before, becoming every day stronger; toward which the carriage-exercise plays its part. God’s goodness is very perfect to me—& even my best gratitude is unworthy of the least of that. Tell me if you never, no, never, hear of Mr Hunter & Mary? If you really never hear of Mary, I must say that I am not pleased with her:—if never of Mr Hunter .. why that too is strange enough. Tell me whatever you ma<y gather> about them & about their “establishment” at Ramsgate—is’nt it at R<amsgate?> I cant understand how persons, apparently fast bound to you, can slip the <…> with such facility. Nothing left of so much!——
Remember me affectionately & thankfully to the Strattens. About a week ago (I write on just as the thoughts come uppermost) Robert called on Mr Powers the scu[l]ptor, .. & in came the gift of wedding cake from Mr & Mrs Tom Trollope! So Miss Garrow has sealed her destiny. She is to live with Mrs Trollope .. or did I tell you before:——
Is the buzz over in England, pray, about Dr Hampden? [14] Oh—the absurdity of it .. The wasps themselves know better:—& your English wasps, who dont, are likely to be instructed farther if the world rolls on at the actual rate. If you could know the impression made abroad .. that is, upon all minds out of the narrow sphere of party-influences, by the late fuss, .. it might be a wholesome knowledge. The narrowness of bigotry is to me detestable, I must say, from whatever side it manifests itself: and as to state-interference, that being one of the received conditions of the church of England, those who object to it on this occasion, should leave the church: the remedy is easy. Your account of “Rest in the Church,” gives a curious idea of rest, to be sure. And how gracious to me the lady is—if a lady! I heard (I think from Miss Mitford) that the writer was one, & that her name was Sewell [15] or something of the sort, but I know nothing, of course.– Talking of ‘rest,’ the horrors to which travellers through France are exposed, have just been poetically related to us. We hear of flying families stopped by brigands & the like,—the workmen of the towns, reduced to starvation by the withdrawing of the richer classes, having dispersed (many of them) in bands of brigandage. There’s a great deal of exaggeration in all this, I dont doubt—but the effect of such reports will be to stop some of our <fu>gitives by force of the very panic. Do tell me the address of the Hedleys, that I may write. How the Bevans manage with their income & their household, I cant make out—nor dear Arabella’s philosophy of adaptation neither. [16] Glad I am indeed, to hear of her happiness!– You should hear the Italians talk wonderingly of the new English party, “who are neither catholics nor protestants, only much more strict than the Catholics”.—“who take their books & pray in the churches, just like Catholics, and curtsey & bow to the altars & crucifixes, & do everything right except putting their fingers into the holy water”. The Italians open their eyes & wonder they dont call themselves catholics. Mr Hillard, too, told us of the sensation produced in Rome by the same phenomena; the Puseyites rendering themselves most conspicuous there.–
<…> [17]
It is a wrong system altogether. Tell me if George gets on upon circuit—if he is making way in his profession, poor fellow. He cant care for me though—that’s too certain. Wilson is quite well & in spirits. I forgot to tell you how she ended the carnival by going to an Italian private ball. At the end of the evening, one of the young ladies lingering behind the rest, a son of the house introduced her to his father as his wife, married that morning!– “A great surprise,” said Wilson—but nobody in the least aggrieved!! Marriages in this Italy are accepted as the glory of life. Best of love to all– So glad I am that dear Minny is better. My love to her always– How’s Crow? Why did’nt you tell me before of dear Lizzie– [18] Mention her now. Thanks for letters both of you, dear things! I love you with all my heart. Will you write! Oh, write!—— I am
your own Ba–
Love to Mr Boyd. What of Annie? Tell me all .. Speak of dearest Papa. Robert’s best love.
Do you hear of Arlette? What dear letters you write to me! Write, write, I beseech you!—— I have your picture, Arabel, on the table alas.
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, 164–173.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. A dispatch from the Tuscan representative in Turin to the Tuscan government on 14 April contained the following message: “The government of King Charles Albert charges me therefore to make known to your Excellency that now or never is the time to devote to the cause of Italy the last man and the last scudo” (G.F-H. Berkeley and J. Berkeley, Italy in the Making, Cambridge, 1940, p. 136). Florentine troops had left for Lombardy as early as 22 March, and others followed. The Grand Duke had issued a proclamation on 5 April, “in which he reminded them [i.e., the volunteers] that the holy cause of Italian independence would be decided on the fields of Lombardy” (Italy in the Making, p. 139).
3. Cf. Pope, Peri Bathous: Or, Martin Scriblerus, His Treatise on the Art of Sinking in Poetry (1728), chap. xi.
4. According to Ovid, when the city of Gabii was under siege by Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, the last King of Rome, his son Sextus gained entry to it, and sent a messenger back to ask his father for further instructions. The messenger returned with no instructions but reported that the King had strode up and down the garden striking off the heads of the tallest lilies. Whereupon Sextus, having grasped the metaphor, slew the chief men of Gabii, which then surrendered (Fasti, trans. James George Frazer, 1931, II, 685–710).
5. Cf. Genesis 4:10.
6. A demonstration organized by Chartists was held on 13 March 1848. According to The Annual Register for 1848, it was “pre-announced as ‘great,’ and expected to be troublesome,” but “it turned out a most despicable affair.” A second, and larger, meeting was planned for 10 April, at which upwards of 500,000 to 1,000,000 were expected to gather on Kennington Common and from there carry a petition to Parliament. Due to recent events on the continent, the authorities were prepared for potential uprisings. Thousands of police and tens of thousands of special constables were enlisted and stationed at points along the route, but in the end there were far fewer numbers than expected and the whole affair ended quietly.
7. Sic, for Allnatt; see letter 2719, note 3.
8. An allusion to the story of “Aladdin or the Wonderful Lamp” in The Arabian Nights.
9. The letter ending RB’s publishing relationship with Moxon was sent the following month; see the List of Absent Letters.
10. i.e., in the house called Trejago, at Hammersmith, where Nelly Bordman had lived as the ward of Francis Robert Jago since 1841.
11. A comet had been observed by Felix Victor Mauvais at Paris on 4 July 1847, and it remained visible until mid-April 1848 (J. Russell Hind, The Comets, 1852, p. 168).
12. A reference to Emma Frances O’Grady; see letter 2719, note 14.
13. In the piazza of the same name, a short distance down Via Maggio and just across the Arno.
14. Renn Dickson Hampden (1793–1868) was consecrated Bishop of Hereford on 26 March 1848 after controversial resistance to his appointment. He had been elected on 28 December 1847, but the Dean of Hereford and one Canon had voted against him. Their opposition to Hampden resulted from statements he had made as Regius Professor of Divinity in Oxford to the effect that the authority of the scriptures had greater weight than the authority of the church. The whole episode created such a public uproar that, according to the DNB, “upwards of thirty works on the matter issued from the press.”
15. The author was Elizabeth Harris, as identified in letter 2718, note 15.
16. EBB’s cousin Arabella (née Hedley) and her husband James Bevan had recently bought a house (Calverley Park) in Tunbridge Wells. Their first child, James Hedley Bevan (1847–87), was born in October 1847 while they were staying at 27 Wimpole Street.
17. Nearly one line has been obliterated by EBB.
18. Mary Elizabeth (“Lizzie”) Treherne (b. 5 June 1844) was the eldest daughter of William Treherne, the Moulton-Barretts’ former butler, and Elizabeth (née Crow), EBB’s former lady’s maid.
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