2793. EBB to Henrietta Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 277–286.
Florence–
23– [2]4– [2]5– [May 1849] [1]
My ever dearest Henrietta, have you expected, I wonder, to hear from me before? At any rate you have wished to know something of the letter to Papa. It has not been returned– I thank God for this degree of good. No answer of any kind—but that the letter should have been kept, not sent back, does help me to hope a little for the future. Presently I shall write again; and if I can squeeze my letters into his closed hands, I shall recover some sort of consolation in the feeling of intercourse. As to our English plans, I can tell you nothing more. Oh Henrietta, oh Arabel, do you think that I feel no bitter disappointment in thinking of what might have been & is not. I yearn in my heart to see you again– Well, we shall see. Observe how we have been situated. The expences of furnishing were greater than we had counted on—that is, we bought better things than entered into our first intention, so that more money was spent. Then, looking towards the early spring expenses of my confinement .. physician, monthly nurse, & wet nurse (& the impossibility of travelling without the last, besides Wilson) Robert who is always the prudent person (of us two) used to prophecy throughout the autumn & winter that we never should be able to go to England this year, & that it was foolish to lead you & his own family to imagine that we could. I, on the other side, would not give it up. I said, “nothing except want of money will keep us from going, and we cant be sure of such a want till the time comes & it is proved– Therefore pray dont let us say a word to anybody about not going to England, lest we should vex them without cause .. and I for my part dont mean to be vexed without cause either– I mean to mean to go to England as long as I can”. Over & over, these things were said between us, for he was sure that we should’nt have money enough, and I was not sure at all. Alas—now the time has come, and, behold, we have quite money enough for going! Expenses paid, and an overplus of money. What he himself considers enough and to spare!– Yet after all, our plans lie flat on the ground—the obstacle is different from the one expected. Only yesterday he said, “Oh Ba, how happily we cd have gone to England—how well the child wd have travelled .. how too happy it wd have been.” Also, they have not at New Cross, once urged us to go. I thought it not unlikely as you did, that Mr Browning & Sarianna might have felt in need of Robert, but either from consideration for him or from their own depression there has not been a word of urging used. Poor Sarianna who appears half broken-hearted, poor thing, just said that if we resolved on our melancholy visit to them she would do what she could for me– I dare say the different circumstances under which we should make our visit now, pricked her to the soul, as, thinking of them, she wrote that. Her mother was so longingly anxious to have us back again .. and we waiting till it was just too late for our return to make her happy, & then going back!– You see how painful it all is– Robert wanted his father & sister to come at once to Florence to us—but his father is disinclined altogether and Sarianna, .. I dont know how it will be. Mr Browning talks a good deal, she says, of Baby, and wants to know everything about him, .. and if Robert had been less affected by the late event, I should have said, “Let us go”, .. for there would be comfort of course, in the meeting—but, as it is, I really dare not—his spirits are far from what they ought to be– If he has a letter from home, he is unwell the whole day after it—he bursts into tears over it, & thinks it over & over for hours, till I am obliged to reproach him on my side– Still, he is considerably better than when I wrote last, and though he says sometimes that he never again can feel as he used to do, I dont despair of his attaining to his old spirits, as time goes on– There is no root of bitterness in this grief that it shd embitter life for ever—it is a flowering grief, & not poisonous. Up to this point, it has drawn him nearer to God .. and whatever does that, is not evil in its nature indeed. That Her God is his God, Her saviour his saviour, is the thought oftenest with him when he takes any comfort– If she had died years ago[,] twenty years ago, when he had his fit of scepticism .. how would he have borne it then? he observed that to me himself. As it is, he has her faith to comfort him, losing her—he does not sorrow as those without hope. [2]
Now I am going to thank you dearest Henrietta & Arabel, for your proposition about New Cross. At first, we both thought of accepting it, but no—we have talked it over, & Robert is of opinion that it might be better to run no risks on a point of this sort. Do you not see, dearest both of you, that if you went and it were discovered, it would be very grievous for you & very painful to us, and especially painful to Sarianna? Then there wd be an awkwardness– The usual course wd be for her to return your visit, and you could not, under the circumstances, receive her, .. that wd be impossible– Then how could you explain to her without paining her, “We cannot receive you”?, .. or how could she explain to you her reluctance to going to Wimpole Street, without some embarrassment? When we came to Italy first, Robert wrote & said that his desire was, that his family should never, under whatever provocation, make mine the subject of conversation anywhere, even by a word– To which, Sarianna answered briefly, that it was not her custom to interfere, even by a word, with other people’s affairs, and that he might rely on a very absolute silence—she is a high spirited person, and probably thought Robert’s recommendation a superfluity on his part. Since then, there has not been an allusion to my family in the letters from New Cross .. the utmost affectionateness to me always .. dear Mrs Browning “loved me as if I were indeed her own”, she said in her last note to him—& nothing beside. I do not suppose that they even know, except it be from Mr Kenyon, how matters stand precisely between my family & me—& therefore there might be more difficulty & embarrassment than your kindness dreams of. Also, poor Sarianna is in the lowest spirits, it seems to me, .. which circumstance although it has more than once led Robert to wish aloud that she knew you both, might hinder her pleasure in making your first acquaintance– She was a most devoted daughter, .. giving up all society (for which her accomplishments peculiarly fit her) and refusing to marry, .. all, that her invalid mother might not miss a comfort she could offer. Her mother was the beginning & end of life to her, she says in her affliction, & of course the void is fearful. Now have I thanked you as you ought to be thanked for your kindness & generosity in wishing to venture this danger of going to New Cross for our sakes? Thank you dearest Henrietta, dearest Arabel—you who always have been kind & generous to me! It is deplorable for poor Sarianna to go on living at that house, & something must be done about it– What I dont know. Mr Browning, with all his excellence, is a peculiar person .. very absent .. very like (Robert has often observed to me) the notion I give him of dear Mr Boyd,—with much the same sort of simplicity, combined with as specific tastes, in a different way—(he is very learned in Latin literature, in history, and the Dutch school of painters–)– So that he never thinks of the horrors of that house for his daughter– He is contented, as long as he does not see her cry, & fancies everything must be going right– She talks of coming to us for a few weeks .. that is, she has talked of it since I began to write this letter .. & so to settle future plans together with us .. if an arrangement can be made for an escort, or a sea-voyage– I know nothing yet. Mr Browning will not leave England, but one of his half sisters [3] may take Sarianna’s place beside him for a little. He is averse, besides his other objections to the continent, to giving up the Bank, .. and perhaps the regular occupation may be necessary or beneficial to him at his time of life. While I write of things of the sort, I ought not to forget however what is forced upon us every hour, the aspect of Italy politically speaking, & how we may have to leave it ourselves .. how soon is impossible to say– The Austrians are to arrive in Florence tomorrow, & the officers to be quartered on the inhabitants. I am sick at heart, & so is Robert at the prospects of the country– I, individually, give up the Grand Duke if it is proved, as it almost seems to be, that he has invited or connived at this Austrian intervention—but weakness of head too often is found to extend to the heart & conscience. What is clearly ignoble, is the resumption of his Austrian titles coincidently with the Austrian invasion. I give him up now, as Robert did a long time ago. I give him up, having fought for him gallantly– I shed some tears when he went away, and could cry again for rage at his coming back again– “Put not your trust in princes.” [4] The patriots, however, are not much better. Guerazzi betrayed the Duke, & then betrayed the republic. I never admired that man, the only man of energy in the Tuscan territory– But if the Austrians take him out of the fortress in those Boboli gardens, to shoot him, as people say, .. they ought to shoot half the population besides, for there has been treason everywhere. Robert & I agree that it is melancholy work to live on here,—even if the artist Mr Greenhough’s prophecy is not verified of a massacre of the protestants being imminent as soon as the priestly party gets the upper hand– Not that we believe a word of such a possibility .. only the truth is that poor Italy is distracted– She never will lie down quietly for a continuance under the heel of Austria, .. and she has not wisdom nor energy enough to stand erect for an hour, neither. Mazzini is the truest hero & patriot she has to boast, and he has not wisdom. He can die for her, but never will cause her to live. That is my view of Mazzini. The French intervention has been awkwardly managed, but the intention, tell Arabel, is in my opinion, noble & upright—nothing else could have saved Rome, with Austria at her doors, & Russia behind Austria. Mazzini’s party will perish by the want of wisdom in not receiving the French as friends. If a doubt of French motives can exist, ask her if the Pope’s act in excommunicating Oudinot, [5] does not justify them at once. The Pope at least understands that he is not likely to be restored to absolute power by the French– Austria, on the other hand, is prepared to do it, & will do it– Therefore the opponents of Liberal institutions throughout the world cry out against the French, just as the violent democrats do. The anti-liberals see (being shrewd enough as far as their own interests go) what the extreme party on the other side does’nt see, .. because that party is apt to see nothing till their head is dashed against the wall. Poor Rome—poor Italy! I should blame as much as any one the inconsequence of the French republic putting down a Roman republic—but this is not the thing intended. Well—it is melancholy altogether. The end may be a concussion between France & Austria & a general war– Italy will perish first, or serve for a battlefield perhaps. Tell my dearest darling Arabel that what she wrote of our going to England touched Robert deeply—he thanks you both for your sympathy & affection, & dearly loves you he says. Wait a little, & let us see– At present, you must feel how the door does not open– God’s providence may open it presently– I do wish that Florence were nearer London .. oh, I wish it! From Paris one might go in fourteen hours for a guinea a-piece instead of fifteen a-piece. From hence you see, after spending (at the lowest computation) sixty guineas in going & sixty in returning .. a hundred & twenty in all, .. how could we possibly face the expence of a residence for two or three or four months in England? Going to New Cross was a different thing, observe.
Altogether we must wait & see a little, & we may be driven out of Italy sooner than any of you think. Meanwhile, my disappointment is as great as yours—a very sad & bitter disappointment. Only, with so much blessing, it is ungrateful to stand with fixed eyes upon the drawbacks. My thoughts & affections are with you always, believe me– I long too, so much, to show you our child before he grows out of his babyhood– You never saw such a fat, rosy, lively child, at two months and a week old—really he is remarkable. Learned nurses here call upon the virgin when they look on him. You know the engraving from Raffael’s virgin & child which hung in my room, & which used to be criticised about the arms & legs of the infant, as being “too fat” .. “too thick” said some of your Wimpole Street critics– Baby’s arms & legs perfectly justify the engraver, I assure you. Robert calls him sometimes “a little Bacchus,” he is so rosy and round– Also, instead of being wonderfully good, as he used to be, he has grown into a mature state of selfwilledness, resolving on not being dressed at all, on being allowed to sit upright, on being danced high in the air, & various red republican & socialist pretensions of the same kind. He is delighted to be undressed & put into the bath, & swims there with arms & legs & in an obvious state of enjoyment, .. but when once taken out & dried, he protests against being dressed, with the most violent screaming, .. is not to be pacified .. draws down the corners of his mouth, & then screams. I am sure he begins to know faces & voices already– If I speak to him when he is in a bad humour, he makes a most lamentable face directly—he will have nothing to say to me as he wriggles about with impatience– His nurse, he will condescend to listen to always. I always have him while she & Wilson are at breakfast & dinner, and sometimes he does’nt like it, or gets tired, & then he stiffens himself out, throwing himself backward with rage– “O, questo bambino é proprio rabbioso” [6] the nurse says. Tell Arabel that her insult about my carrying him by his head is quite gratuitous. Nevertheless I acknowledge that he seems to like better being with Robert than with me. Robert nurses him admirably, & the child smiles when he looks in his face– Baby likes to see the gold of the looking glass & to be held up to the lamp. The gilding of the ceilings too, he has a decided taste for—and when we take him out in the carriage, which we do for two hours every evening .. from half past five to half past seven .. Robert & I, and the nurse & Wilson, .. he stares at the people & the horses & carriages, & laughs & coos & is in the most delighted of possible humours– Is’nt this intelligence, when you consider his age? His forehead means intelligence .. I have been sure of it from the beginning .. and all his little ways have character in them. I do wish you could see him in the bath– That is his period of perfect happiness, and he looks like a cupid in a fountain, with his round dimpled arms & legs, Wilson holding him in the water only by the head, tell Arabel, .. that is with one hand under his head according to the instructions of the Biondi– Oh, I fancied that you wd all cry out about the “warm bath”– Even Dr Harding did not recommend it—and I was frightened when Robert mentioned the temperature to him the other day, & when he exclaimed “But you are giving the child a regular warm bath, whereas it is only for the purposes of cleanliness that you have recourse to the bath at all– Much too hot—much too long”. So that for a moment I was afraid he was going to change all– But then, he suddenly resumed—“No, upon second thoughts, Mrs Browning, I would not have you alter anything. The appearance of that child justifies everything that has been done. Every alteration must really be for the worse. I never did see a child grow & thrive more visibly from hour to hour. Keep to your baths, if they produce such an effect”. Therefore we go on, and I am delighted, through the certainty of that bath being most useful to him. He seems to dilate when he is in it, and his whole countenance lights up with the sense of enjoyment– The fact is, that when the child was born Dr Harding said to us “Trust everything to Madme Biondi—she is unexcelled in the management of babies”, and therefore of course we did, we who knew nothing, .. and this bath is one of her favorite means, & from the time that he was nine days old, he has had it regularly, .. first very hot (Wilson used to be afraid of his being scalded!) and then at ninety two .. now at ninety .. and as the weather gets hotter, we are to diminish, by a degree, every few days. In the height of summer, if we are in Italy, it will be enough, she told us, to put the water in the sun to warm it, .. but she altogether disapproves of placing young children into cold water, unless there should be particular reasons in their constitution for requiring it. She does not like a child to cry when it is washed & bathed—& she thinks that it is altogether a mistake to startle the circulation of young creatures by such means– Now the result you see justifies the doctrine– You wd say so, and Minny would, if you had all a sight of these round, delicately mottled, dimpled limbs, as soft as velvet everywhere– Madme Biondi told me that “God had done her the grace never to lose one of her babies in all these years, as long as she had the care of any—and this bath, she holds strongly by.” At the same time, she always says that the English understand more about children than the people of other countries, and in most things, she attends scrupulously to the English customs– But her bath is warmer than you prepare it in England .. and I am inclined to think the exception is a good one, and might be tried among [you], particularly considering your colder climate, with much advantage– Give my love to Arlette, & say how glad I am to have such accounts of her & her child. It must be a pretty child– Almost I envy the “large eyes” when I hear of them. Wilson says I “never am contented”, because I wish our child to have larger eyes– They are not small, .. they are very pretty & sparkling, .. but the great Italian eyes all round us make me wish for some like them to perfect him. The forehead & mouth & chin & the cheeks are perfect already, .. and the little infantine nose is beginning to shape itself—and every now & then people say, “he looks like a little girl he is so pretty”. Robert has had the vanity to ask Mr Powers the sculptor to come & see him– We have put him in short sleeves, but only for this week past,—but I dont mean to let him go without caps, though it is the fashion in England, I hear .. & though dear Nelly Jago, says, .. why does he want caps, with so much hair? The hair is behind .. not much before .. and it is a disfigurement to a baby to go without caps—! dont you think so? I am too vain for it, I assure you– Mrs Ogilvy wanted to persuade me to leave them off, but I would’nt .. and the Biondi thinks me perfectly right .. she says that a light cap (between the two extremes) is better than a bare head, in her opinion, for the first year, at any rate. Oh, and I have been so extravagant in his hood & cloak .. given fifteen shillings for the hood, & fifteen for the cloak .. a great expense for Florence indeed– Wilson thought the hood particularly expensive. But it is made of the richest blue satin, & is embroidered in silk braiding all over, & he looks beautiful in it, and I would be a spendthrift for once– Madme Biondi had it made for me & embroidered after the most royal patterns, and it can be let out, so as to admit of his wearing it till he is old enough for a hat– The cloak, Wilson made, of very fine white merino trimmed with blue silk braiding. Then he has a white veil, loose, to throw over his face. Tell me what sort of cloak & hood Arlette has selected, and if you see new patterns in anything her baby wears. Our child is to be put in half short clothes in July, because otherwise he will have to wait over the winter, which wd not be desirable. I never told you our arrangement with the wetnurse– We pay her every month £1. s4. d6 .. besides which she is furnished with her nurse’s costume. Here in Italy, it is generally arranged so. It consists of a large, uncut Tuscan straw hat, with long blue streamers—gowns trimmed with blue ribbons, (blue is a boy’s colour, pink a girl’s) white collars, smart white aprons, made of muslin, pocket handkerchiefs &c– In the winter, she is to have a black beaver hat & black feathers. On this occasion we had not to buy the Tuscan summer hat, as quite a new one belonged to her—it was an expense saved. Observe how much money is necessarily however spent! .. yet we mean to keep this woman till he has cut his teeth, so as to <give> him every possible advantage. We wont economize where the child is concerned, come what may—& nothing bad is likely to come, Robert manages everything so admirably. We like her very much—she is frank & honest, & full of mirth & goodhumour, & very fond of Baby .. whom she compliments upon not being “at all like an English child.” “What did she mean by that” I asked, not immediately perceiving the compliment. “O, c’e qualche cosa di strana [7] in all those English children, but this child is like a true downright Italian”. Wilson & I in our patriotism set up a defence & glorification of English children, but she shook her head .. “there was something unpleasant about them .. qualche cosa di strana”.
While I was writing those last sentences, I heard her calling me .. (Wilson was out, & Robert at the post office) .. “Signora, signora, ecco i Tedeschi!” [8] The Austrians had arrived– We ran out on the terrace together, .. & up from the end of the street, & close under our windows, came the artillery, & baggage-waggons .. the soldiers with crouched javelins sitting upon the cannons, .. motionless .. like dusty statues. Slowly the hateful procession filed under our windows. The people shrank back to let them pass, in the deepest silence .. not a word spoken, scarcely a breath drawn. “Ah signora”, said our nurse, “fa male di vedere questo– Sono brutti, questi Tedeschi.” [9] For my part I felt my throat swelling with grief & indignation. Oh, to think of our ever seeing such a sight from these windows– I wish we were a thousand miles away. As to the Grand Duke, he is made of the stuff of princes .. faithless & ignoble. Robert comes in & tells me that the Austrian General’s proclamation is up .. “Invited by your Grand Duke” …! So it is confessed at last—the Duke has done it all. Wretched, infamous man. That ever I shd have felt compassion for that man!– Twelve thousand Austrians in Florence, & more coming. In deep silence & consternation the people see them enter. God help Italy!——
Do write oftener, my dearest Henrietta & Arabel. Tell me of dearest Trippy & give her my loving love & a kiss. Miss Tulk referred the other day to us, to the unhappy state of Mr Gordon’s affairs, & told us that he had insured his life to the amount of the debt, but that through the carelessness of the London men of business, the insurance had been let drop. She said that poor Mrs Gordon wd devote herself to the liquidation of the debt—only, how can she? I am so grieved for poor dearest Trippy. My hope however is that the interest will continue to be paid. The Cottrells have taken the apartment above theirs for Mrs Gordon & her children, and one cook I hear is to cook for the two families. Lady Margaret Cocks dead! [10] Tell me if you know the immediate circumstances at all. Robert saw it in the papers. Tell me of Arabel & the homœopathy—but she must persevere, or it will all avail nothing. Darling Arabel, thank you—your letter, so full of sympathy, touched Robert deeply! Take care of yourself if you love me. I will tell you of the baptizing—it is not done yet. My dear dearest Henrietta, love your own
Ba–
Tell me particularly of poor Arabella Gossett– [11] Whoever writes (& do somebody write) mention Papa’s cough– So nervous & frightened I have been about my letter. I<t wo>nt be returned now, surely.
I hope you have all been reading Macauley’s history, which we have had the utmost delight from. Tell Arabel to mind & read it. Tell me of the poor Peytons & give them my love. Tell me of yourself, Henrietta, always & particularly. Love to Susan & Surtees Cook.
Address, on integral page: Angleterre viâ France / Care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Barrett) / 12 Beaumont Street / Devonshire Place / New Road / London.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 105–108 (in part, as 2–5 May 1849).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Month and year provided by postmark.
2. Cf. I Thessalonians, 4:13.
3. Presumably, either of two unmarried half-sisters: Louisa Browning (1807–87) or Sarah Browning (1814–1902).
4. Cf. Psalm 146:3.
5. Charles Nicolas Victor Oudinot (1791–1863), 2nd Duke of Reggio, whose father was a military leader under Napoleon I. EBB must have heard a false rumor as there is no evidence that Oudinot was excommunicated, nor would it have been likely, considering that he commanded the expeditionary force sent to free Rome of the anti-papal republicans.
6. “O, this baby is really furious.”
7. “Oh, there is something strange.”
8. “Signora, signora, here are the Germans!”
9. “Ah signora, it is painful to see this– They are horrible, these Germans.”
10. Margaret Maria Cocks (1791–1849), a friend from Hope End days, died 10 May 1849 at 9 Eaton Place West, her home in London.
11. Arabella Sarah Gosset (née Butler, 1815–1900), EBB’s cousin, was pregnant at this time; she gave birth to her fourth child, Francis Russell Gosset (d. 1930), on 2 June 1849.
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