2773. EBB to Henrietta Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 220–230.
[Florence]
Feb– 10– 19– 20– [1849] [1]
Again I am writing home, my ever dearest Henrietta, & this time it is to be to you directly. It’s as well to have a letter ready plumed or fledged, even if I keep it a few days, as most probably I shall have to do. You will want to hear sooner than usual perhaps, & I ought to be particularly good & considerate just now—that, I know. Dr Harding came again yesterday .. paid a fourth visit, .. just to say how admirably well I was going on, & to advise .. (here comes the counsel now!) that I should take nobody’s advice & keep to quiet & my own inclinations: which he said, because I told him of various adjurations on the part of female friends, to walk more & stand more & not be for ever lying back in this lounging chair by the fire. Mrs Ogilvy stands for the “female friends,” observe .. yes, & Sophia Cottrell, .. but especially Mrs Ogilvy because she being accustomed to walk ten miles a day herself, thinks it heinous of me to be so still, & even took Robert aside the other day & indoctrinated him in the absolute propriety of making me do this & that, till he was half frightened at its not being done– So I asked Dr Harding—& he answered, “Very well for some women, but not for you, unless you would bring on something premature. Its quite a mistake, besides, to fancy that exercise facilitates at the last– Many are obliged to lie up altogether the whole time, who yet suffer no more at the last. It depends quite on a woman’s constitution whether she should take exercise or repose—& you should be quiet & avoid all effort, & take nobody’s advice as to these things. I tell you that you are going on admirably, & that I [2] have nothing to suggest at all”. So off he went without making a suggestion—& I do hope that you & Arabel are convinced of the non-necessity of my applying to him before. Just see Arlette! “Out of spirits” says Arabel & “looking ill” .. & yet she has had consultation on consultation! As if these points were not the things of pure nature, & were to be treated like diseases. As if any physician on earth could change what is! I have not much general faith in physicians, but on subjects of this class, the little faith turns to great scepticism. At Pisa I was so shamefully ignorant that it was wrong not to ascertain facts by experienced persons. Here, enough experience (the slightest element of it, does) had been acquired already. Not once have I touched medecine—not once; & very well I continue to be, though of course a little inconvenienced & suffering some occasional pain. The movement begins to be rather too energetic for comfort, but it delights me of course, settling the question of vitality to my full satisfaction. So you will excuse me for the medical details & be satisfied too– What do you think I have done? Remember the little petticoats you sent me—four of them. They were scanty you know, & short-waisted, & wd not agree well with other garments of a newer fashion. And yet to take Wilson’s advice & have new bodies, when Arabel had made one actual body already, was what I would’nt & could’nt allow of—so, of the four petticoats, I have made three, dividing & enlarging the skirts, &, to every body, attaching a deep band. This I did with my very own fingers, (& made a new petticoat besides) and to see how they have come back from the washing, in an absolute state of whiteness, (besides the fulness & long waistedness,) impresses me with the conviction that I was born for altering petticoats rather than making poems. <Rossini (to compare great with small) swears that he was born for writing books on Political œconomy.> [3] People are apt, you see, to mistake their vocations. One or two of the frocks, beside, is in the course of being enlarged in the skirts a little, & lengthened in the waist, because only rococo babies wear such very short waists—but we shall touch one or two alone, for want of time, & to see how it answers– At first the high bedgowns are to be worn, & very, very pretty they are– Wilson made those exclusively, as the drawings & plaitings were too much for me of course—& Sophia Cottrell’s child has worn nothing else by night & day these six months, though hers are of plain calico, & mine of much finer, figured stuff, & trimmed with narrow edging .. much prettier, altogether. How I wish I could open the sacred drawer to your eyes & show you everything! Dear Minny’s pincushion lies in a conspicuous place, tell her with my love. Oh, I wish I had Minny here too—often I wish it! Yet if I were in England among you all, I could’nt be taken more care of, & the advantages of attention & skill could’nt be greater .. so you are all to be sure of that, however God’s will may work out the issue. In fact, one would be satisfied in England with secondrate monthly nurses & accoucheurs, whereas here, you see how it is with me!– No cradle yet, but we are to have it in a few days. Wilson has worked hard & most beautifully at everything, & succeeded to admiration—and the expense, so far, has been kept within narrow bounds––within five pounds, instead of the fifteen talked of. I was sure it could not be so much after all. By the way, when I spoke of ‘infantas of Spain’, [4] only Miguel’s daughter at Venice was meant—it did seem strange that the Duchess of Montpensier shd send to Florence for help.
So Mr Tulk has gone! Count Cottrell came here on the evening of the day when the news reached poor Sophia, to tell us, like a true friend– I never liked him so much, for he seemed quite moved & softened. Sophia had been dreadfully affected, but when he left her with her aunts she had begun to be composed again– She adored her father—it was nearly the closest affection in the world to her, .. & notwithstanding his state of health & his yearning for death, nothing had prepared her for such a deprivation. Robert called on the Miss Tulks yesterday, & they said that still she was not very well & did not get over the depression of spirits—no wonder, poor thing! It is curious, but after all the death was not caused by the head-attacks, but by gout in the stomach causing spasms, & the constitution being too weakened to resist. Dear, excellent Mr Tulk! Count Cottrell said truly that no one who knew him could doubt that the happiest moment of his career was when he touched the end of it consciously. Also, none can doubt now, that he was justified in feeling no more grief for Louisa’s loss. The separation was not worth one salt tear—and she was indeed waiting in the next room for him.——
Well! what sort of a dull letter am I to send you this time? Before I part from the Cottrells let me say that Count Cottrell has given up his Californian mania, & that very glad I am of it. To leave his wife & child for the sake of digging gold-dust, really sounded to me monstrous– I hope you have not talked of the thing being considered possible. Now if Papa were to send his ship there, well laden with merchandize, that wd be or might be a speculation worth thinking of, & half I shall wonder if he does not think of it.
Tell me whatever you hear of uncle James, & whether Bummy has returned yet to England. Tell me everything, Henrietta. Do the Bevans live quietly at Tunbridge Wells,—& do they never talk of Tours. Mention Arlette too—for I want to know how she is. I forgot to say that I am not at all extravagantly large but Mrs Ogilvy made me a very little uncomfortable some time ago by wondering at it,—but they tell me that often it is so on a first occasion, & that both size & form are, for the rest, perfectly unexceptionable– Wearing my old black merino helps to preserve too the appearance of decent proportions, though everything is as loose as possible. And then, you see, she was a good deal swollen, even to her arms & hands, whereas that sort of thing is not a tendency of mine. Maria Barrett looked far better than I do now, when I saw her in Wimpole street, .. you remember .. & yet her baby was large enough. Madame Petri has been to drink tea with Wilson & to say that she “does not at all blame me”—& so much the better, for I was quite mad about it indeed. Dr Harding is in great disgrace of course, & she told Wilson that she thought it “most absurd to make such a fuss about Mrs Browning, when there could not be the least difficulty, or reason for fearing any”. But then, she spoke of me as she saw me, & he as he had seen me, .. & I dare say he is right in taking the cautious side– Poor woman, we have given her some of the rough sewing to do, & must try to respect her in some other direction.
Meanwhile this Tuscany of us all, is swaying from left to right & from right to left, & the Grand Duke has gone to Siena, & the English ships are at Leghorn to protect English interests, & the English ambassador [5] is writing threatening letters in the journals about what he shall do if insults are offered to the English. This, because an Englishman’s house was searched the other day by the heroic “Civic guard” in quest of fire arms .. as if he had no right to his own pistols! And the Florentines talk in their piazzas, of how they mean, if the Grand Duke does’nt come back either tomorrow or next day, to … plant a “tree of liberty”—there’s, a sublime scheme!—there’s, something great to be achieved after all!– Also, to pass the intermediate hours, they have sent a deputation to Siena to request him … what do you think? .. only to abdicate directly & “let them have a republic”—which, if he fancies he can save a teacup full of heroic Tuscan blood by it—he will do .. for never was a more tender-hearted man, equal or not to this difficult crisis.
So much was written a week since. I waited for your letter—& lo, it comes!—but before it comes, the Grand Duke goes to San Stephano, & we have a republic. [6] Shall you be frightened, I wonder, for us? No, Dont be frightened—there is no need. And even if there were, you know, I could not move from Florence at the present moment: but there is no need for fear or removal. I believe the majority of the Florentines to be considerably more frightened than we have reason to be—that is, I believe the revolutionary party to be simply the more noisy & vehement of the population, & headed entirely by strangers from Leghorn. Never did I think to witness the proclamation of a republic, with feelings so cold & uncertain. Guerrazzi is a traitor, to my mind—and though Mazzini is virtuous & heroic, he is indiscreet & mistakes the stuff of which this people is made, if he thinks to find a great nation in the heart of it. The soldiers refuse to fraternize with the republicans—& Robert saw a body of them arrested the other day. They said that if their oath to Leopold was dissolved, they held themselves to be free men. So saying, they gave up their swords. To ‘give up one’s sword’ must be a part of even fidelity here. There is a rumour on grave authority that Guerrazzi first tried to suppress the letters of the G Duke, & then garbled them in publication, and only swerved from the design of suppression at the threat of the English ambassador, to whom a duplicate had been fortunately sent by Leopold. Anything I can believe of Guerrazzi. He is false as falsehood. For the “republic”, so called, my impression is that it has no more chance of standing than a straw in a storm has. There must be honesty, there must be union, there must be zeal & strength of some kind, intellectual or moral—and here, there are men, only fit for the Goldoni theatre, the coffeehouses, & the sunny side of the Arno when the wind’s in the north. The English are said to be dreadfully frightened .. I mean, such of the English as are still resident, .. & we hear of many families, inclusive of Mrs Trollope, who have everything packed up, so as to be ready for flight. We should’nt fly if we were able, seeing no cause, feeling no panic—oh, and Dr Harding has just been on his fifth visit, laughing it all to scorn .. “not the least cause in the world for fear”, says he:—and as for me, “he never saw me looking so well” .. I “look better everytime”—“passing the house he thought he wd come in, but nothing was to be done, & everything was going on admirably”– We have our new sofas & newly covered chairs at last, & you really might approve of the comfort in our rooms Henrietta!—spring sofas, understand. My chair, though, I cant afford just now to send away to have covered, because, for a chair, it is so perfect—a regular “chaise longue”, .. I dont lie on a sofa, but keep to my own chair which is as good for the position, & much more convenient, .. admitting of one’s feet at the fire, & of moving here or there as one pleases. No, indeed, Robert does not “rub my feet”– And why? because they dont want it. No swelling at all … which is rather unusual—and no cramp in them. Did you mistake & fancy I meant cramp of that kind? What I complained of was internal .. the whole stomach ridging itself up into angles, & squares, though pain of it, is entirely in the back– I believe it has been just the movement, affecting the muscles spasmodically perhaps .. taking the appearance of cramp, & being actually a modification of cramp but not the precise thing. For this, poor Robert has had to rub me again & again—for very gentle rubbing takes it away always—and I dont know what I should have done sometimes without his ever-ready help. I heard the other day of a young English lady who suffered from the same causes, & employed her Italian nurse to use remedies .. such as poultices & fomentations .. the consequence of which was that her child was stillborn, .. pain & movement having gone away together—and the English accoucheur was furious about it, observing that women who had no patience, were not fit to be mothers. But I dare say, poor thing, she was frightened rather than impatient .. just as I was at first. Easily I can understand that. I am sure I thought there was something very bad the matter, something likely to prevent the second life altogether. By the by, the Biondi is of opinion that I shall last to the fifteenth of March—so you need not think of anything till quite the end of March, observe—you cant hear till then. Not that I myself am persuaded … but she ought to know best– She says too that the “creatura è molto forte”. [7] Diminution of morphine proceeds steadily to Wilson’s & my absolute wonder. Are you not surprised? What does Mrs Jago say of it? She is a dear, kind friend, & very judicious in most things as always I recognize .. the quintessence of reason in most things—but the opinion against Italian wet-nurses I really must set down as a prejudice, considering that we are in Florence & have none other to choose from. In the first place, if we found an Englishwoman, & knew as much about her as we may know of an Italian in the same capacity (for it is a professional class here, & each has to be provided with medical certificates of her own health & that of her ancestors .. father & mother at least .. these things are attended to because everyone in a certain station has recourse to the women in question—an Italian lady would open her black eyes very wide at you, if you asked whether she meant to nurse her baby herself!) .. even if you found an Englishwoman of whom you had an opportunity of knowing something .. why, even so, she is subject to certain influences from this climate, which in most cases affect the nerves, spirits, circulation &c .. she is not in her ordinary state. Compare such a woman with an Italian from the mountains—great, strong, healthy women, without a vibrating nerve in them!—all you have to do, is to keep them clean, & keep watch over the oil-bottles & garlic! Well—I cant help myself, you see. Dr Harding has taken the whole matter into his own hands, & he bade me rather imperatively “leave it to him altogether”—“it was his affair” he said briefly. Also, he insists on its being bad for the baby as well as for me, to think of the pleasanter plan—and that stops me! for even if it were good for me, as Mr Jago thinks, .. the fear of doing harm to the more precious object would make me faint hearted at once. Sophia Cottrell tried it for two months, & could not continue. She called here with her husband a few evenings since, & looked well & was in good spirits. She said she had had “nervous headaches” .. but “we wont talk of melancholy subjects .. I have come here to be cheerful”—& I expect her again every morning, because she promised to bring her little Alice to shew her red cheeks to me. Dont repeat it—but Mr Tulk’s will contained no sort of mention of Count Cottrell .. and unless the marriage-settlement secures two hundred a year which was to be payable only during Mr Tulk’s life, they lose everything, except a share in some property which is to be divided at the end of eighteen years, since free from mortgage at that point of time– Count Cottrell told Robert all about it, using very gentle words, & imputing it entirely to the uncertainty of poor Mr Tulk’s memory on pecuniary subjects, the will having been executed since his return to England. [8] Robert “never liked Count Cottrell so much,” he said—he had been promised three hundred & fifty a year, on the death of his father in law—& if even the two hundred should fail, it is hard to say what they will do, for I imagine that the husband’s share of fortune must be the merest pittance, & they have had great expences in furnishing their apartment which blazes with gilding everywhere, to say nothing of poor little Alice & perhaps a large family to come! Do not mention this either to the Mintos or to others out of Wimpole Street. The sons of Mr Tulk have arranged everything their own way. Think of one of them “protesting” three times his father’s will for fifty pounds when he was in Florence, in order to constrain him to return to England!– Incredible almost it seems. Tell dear Henry that Dr Alnut [9] is still here, & attends a few families—but I should fear that he does not prosper gloriously. He told Robert the other day that he had felt certain last year of neither Mr Tulk’s nor Louisa Ley’s life being possible, long.–
My dearest dear Henrietta, is it true that I owed you my last letter & did’nt pay it? What naughtiness of me, to be sure! Perhaps it was some miraculous instinct though, about Arabel’s headache, & that the letter was drawn to her through interstices of the memory. I certainly thought it was her turn, dearest thing! How I thank you for your letter, Henrietta, & her for the little note! The account of Arlette is not a very good one I think .. I mean, the account of her having to take blue pill just now. Dr Cooke told me at Pisa that an ordinary dose of calamel [sic] was found sufficient to destroy the inner life!– I only hope she has not used medical advice, too much & too soon! but of course you wont hint at this to her. As to the depression, the bilious symptoms might account for them, of course—and if I were she, I wd take exercise, & have recourse to a strict diet & eschew the medecine as far as possible—all medecine of an aperient character is considered very bad here– I have never touched it since Pisa—and my appetite has not been so good since my quite childhood. At the supper tray sometimes, when Alessandro gives us hot beefstake or minced chicken, I cry out to Robert, “Henrietta & Arabel would be surprised if they saw me at this moment.” But then he has said first .. [“]Oh Ba, if you knew how I love you when you eat enough!” and there is something in the inducement, though it does not sound romantic, let us confess. For your gruel, Henrietta, do forgive me for not having tried it & for not intending to try it. How can gruel be takable in any form? And bread & milk is as wholesome, I shd imagine– Wilson has often made your milk gruel, she says, & so the difficulty does’nt lie in her. Recipe for recipe, I propose a reform of your apple dumplings. Sugar enough, there should be .. which you never have in England .. add a handfull or two of dried currants .. & saturate the whole with brandy sauce .. such as you wd use with a plum-pudding. The difference is something extraordinary. Also in the case of “bread & butter puddings” (my old favorite) use brandy in the saturation of all, & observe the effect. These are Alessandro’s innovations, & we applaud them loudly, & I have always intended (& forgotten) to apprize you of them—so now, mind you tell Minny! Alessandro had a new baby [10] the other day, his ninth child, & he brought it here some four & twenty hours afterwards to show it off to Robert & me, on its way home from San Giovanni’s Baptistery. Wilson had made for it a very pretty christening cap, trimmed with rose colour to suit Italian taste—and you never saw in your life such an Anak [11] of a baby! Wilson never did, she declares: & Robert & I stood in mute admiration. It looked four months old, or more perhaps—great cheeks, enormous hands .. the feet were safely sewed up in “so many” yards of red flannel, (which Alessandro bought a few weeks since) till the summer shall come. “Much better than white flannel” said he, looking askance at Wilson’s work, “because not so liable to catch the dirt.” Think of a poor baby, sewed up till the summer! We have a cradle at last .. but it looks so like a clothes basket that I insist on having it changed, in spite of Robert’s assurance that it is better to have “a strong foundation” in these things. So it is to be changed to something lighter & prettier, & Wilson has seen a pattern which is very pretty indeed. Since beginning this letter too, I have done something in the alteration of all four of the frocks you sent .. the fourth being begun:—so all will be done, except the “christening frock” [12] which is not to be touched till the “great hereafter”. We changed our minds, Wilson & I, about the others, through the splendid success of the first experiments. Poor Wilson has been very anxious lately, & even before the G Duke’s departure, on account of the uncertainty of public events operating on the fortunes of her “promesso sposo” [13] & clouding his prospect of obtaining the situation they both counted on. She wished him very much to have the situation from the hands of the G Duke & to reside at Florence—but in the uncertainty, his brother who is rich & established in wholesale haberdashery or woollen trade in Prato, offers him the loan of some hundreds of pounds to settle him in a retail shop there—the debt to be repaid at his full convenience. Now, living at Prato will by no means be so pleasant to her, as living at Florence .. though the distance is only ten-minutes by railroad—still it is said to be a very pretty & healthy little town, and perhaps the shop, in these turbulent days, will make a steadier foundation for fortune than a situation in a ducal palace. She has been vexed & disturbed about it, however, & she takes comfort chiefly from the prospect of a removal here after the beginning has been made at Prato—the time of the marriage of course depending on the time of prosperity—she wont do anything imprudent meanwhile. Her mother has written very kindly to her & very trustingly .. ——
So far was written, & you will scarcely believe & dearest kindest Trippy & Arabel will have believed me ungrateful perhaps when I tell you all that only just now have I discovered, by an accidental opening of my blue desk, [14] Mrs Smith’s m∙s. [15] —& the two packets of mittens. The ms. coming so late, I do not dare at the present moment to agitate myself by reading it– I must wait till after—& I see that Arabel has sent a precious sketch .. caught sight of, through the envelope– Dear & considerate of her, as ever! Mrs Smith shd be told perhaps how an accident prevented the earlier reading of her paper– I did not understand why she expected an answer from me—but this paper explains it of course. Otherwise, I had waited to hear of the return of my letters to Arabel. The mittens are beautiful—and if I had found them before, I should not have had another pair netted for me here– As to buying them small enough at Florence, it is impossible! Nothing could be a more useful present. So pretty too! I thank you both, dearest Trippy & Arabel!– Do tell me how Trippy is, and kiss her for me fervently .. Arabel does not mention whether she wrote to Mrs Cliffe & heard from her– I should be very glad to know. Well, Arlette Reynolds may like or not like walking alone, & I know I am quite wrong (I who am spoilt perfectly) to make comparative observations on any point of domestic discipline—still it does seem to me unkind, just at this time when she is unwell, poor thing, not to continue to be with her during the necessary walk: it is not kind, Henrietta, & I dont think better of her husband on account of it. Weak men may be “pulled up”, but strong ones are more easily & deeply touched, be very sure—and women are happier in their relations to strong men than to the inferior class, let the latter be ever so manly in the hunting field & manageable at particular crisises of stupidity. That, I always thought—& now, thank God, I know it. What news of Folly? Flush has grown quite beautiful again, .. & people say they dont recognize him for the same dog; & Robert quotes
“We went to the joiner’s to buy him a coffin
And when we came back the little dog was laughing”, ..
from the great epic of Mother Hubbard, you remember. The hair has grown again all glossily & brown, & if you were to see how his eyes blaze!—but his insolence of vain-glory is incredible, even for Flush—he goes out by himself & stays hours together .. knows every street in Florence .. will have his own way in everything: I am never frightened now at his absences. When he thinks Robert too long in setting out on his afternoon walk, he stands up before him & barks in the most imperious manner possible. For wisdom, he gets wiser & wiser. Nobody wd ever call Flush, Folly, & tell Surtees so with my love.
Now mind you, one of you, write directly, & let me hear as much good news as you can. I think of you my beloved Henrietta much, much! Oh, there is more in California than Papa fancies—but as to the advantages of going there, I dont certainly recommend it, except for commercial purposes to ship-owners. If I were Papa, I wd send my ship there, full of commodities .. wearing apparel, medecines, flour, &c &c. Sophia Cottrell cd not have gone with her husband, had he persisted, as there is no sort of accommodation. Speak of dearest Papa always. Bear me in your hearts & know that I love you– I do, I do, indeed. Tilbury’s expences together with the rest (in the matter of boxes,) came to eighteen pounds. I assure you we have to be careful at this crisis of money: obligations .. so many at once!– As to Robert, his garments seem to me those of a Wilderness-Isrealite [sic] .. never to wear out. The teazing I have to use, before he will get anything for himself! May God bless you all! You shall hear from me again soon– I intend it at least,
Your own attached
Ba–
Love to dear Minny– I am so glad she is better. We hear of Piedmontese armies & Austrian armies on their way to Florence!!– [16]
Did Arabel’s green plaid wash, as it professed to do?—answer this.
Address, on integral page: Care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Barrett) / 12. Upper Gloucester Street / Dorset Square / New Road.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 100–103 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by EBB’s references to her advanced pregnancy.
2. Underscored twice.
3. The bracketed passage has been squeezed in as an afterthought.
4. Probably mentioned in one of the missing passages in letter 2768 (see note 7). We have been unable to identify “Miguel’s daughter.” EBB may have in mind King Miguel of Portugal (1802–66), who had been living in exile since 1834. However, he did not marry until 1851. The “Duchess of Montpensier” refers to Luisa Fernanda (1832–97), Infanta of Spain, daughter of King Ferdinand VII, who had married the Duc de Montpensier in 1846 (see letter 2722, note 5). Their first child, Isabelle, also an Infanta of Spain, was born in Seville on 21 September 1848.
5. George Baillie Hamilton (1798–1850), minister plenipotentiary to Tuscany from 23 May 1846 until his death in Florence on 6 September 1850.
6. The Grand Duke fled on 7 February, going first to the seaport of Santo Stefano before joining the Pope at Gaeta. The Tuscan Republic was proclaimed on 9 February and was briefly governed by a triumvirate consisting of Montanelli, Giuseppe Mazzoni (1808–80), and Guerrazzi.
7. “Baby is very strong.”
8. Charles Augustus Tulk’s will, dated 23 September 1848, contains only one reference to Henry Cottrell. The only provision made for the Cottrells is the one EBB mentions.
9. Sic, for Allnatt; see letter 2719, note 3.
10. Teresa, daughter of the Brownings’ manservant Alessandro Barsotti and his wife Maria (née Rosi), was born on 4 February 1849. The Barsottis’ residence was near the church of Santa Lucia dei Magnoli, which is on the south side of the Arno in Via de’ Bardi.
11. i.e., a giant; cf. Numbers 13:33.
12. This gown is described by Rena Kleefeld as “forty-six inches long, made of a lightweight white cotton, exquisitely embroidered in a leaf design. The hem, sleeves, and neckline are scalloped” (“Pen’s Christening Dress Restored,” Through Casa Guidi Windows, No. 6, Winter 1982/83, p. 3). In 1893 Pen Browning presented the gown and its accompanying slip to William and Mary Forrester for the baptism of their first child, Elizabeth, on 30 April of that year. William Forrester was the gardener of Pen’s Venetian friends, the Frederick Edens (see Browning Society Notes, October 1970, p. 10). The ensemble was later acquired by the London Browning Society and is now at Eton College. A photograph of the gown is reproduced facing p. 241.
13. “Betrothed.”
14. This writing desk, which is now at Wellesley College, sold as lot 1317 in Browning Collections (see Reconstruction, H418); see also illustration facing p. 240.
15. Evidently it contained Mary Ann Smith’s ideas for a memoir of Hugh Stuart Boyd, to which she asked EBB to contribute a chapter. See the beginning of letter 2794.
16. Only a rumour: Piedmont and Austria were still adhering to the armistice signed on 9 August 1848 (see letter 2744, note 9).
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