2797. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 292–301.
[Florence]
[?23–25] [June 1849] [1]
I wrote last to you my beloved Arabel but only in a note, and I shall strike the balance by sending a note to Henrietta in this letter. “The city is deserted”– Yes, Robert & I deserted it & went off to the Gulph of Spezzia [2] six days ago, & were five days away. What do you think of that? .. just he and I. Wilson stayed to preside over Baby and the ‘balia’, and Madme Biondi promised to come & see after them all every day. Robert promised for his part, to manage my hooks and eyes, and we took one carpet bag, and his hatbox to hold the more tumblesome things. The truth was, there was a necessity for our going. His nerves were unstrung, and as he began to leave off eating altogether, I looked forward to nothing less than a nervous fever, & teased him till he consented to go with me. Oh, he did’nt like to go! he was’nt up to it, he said! he who is so fond of travelling, had to be reasoned & wrangled with & tormented. At last I made it so clear to him that we shd all be very ill (particularly I and Baby) if he tyranically persisted in keeping us the summer through at Florence, & that it was necessary to go ourselves and look for a cool place somewhere, .. I made this all so clear to him that he yielded & we prepared to go. Then, just as it was settled, he took it into his dear head that something wd happen to the child while we were away, and I had to begin the teazing over from the beginning. Such a fuss, there was, and once I gave it up & thought it never wd be managed. At last, one morning at breakfast he said, “Well, .. then we will set off this evening”. The carriage, with Wilson, the balia and Baby, took us down to the station house towards Pisa, & after they left us at the railroad they went on with their usual drive. It was hard to kiss little Babe, .. who did’nt care a straw, .. and to say ‘good bye’ to Flush, who had to be held fast—poor dear Flush; we didnt take Flush with us. Pray, Arabel, dont fancy that Flush is uncared for now; and pray, Henrietta, dont imagine for a moment that either of us denies Flush’s soul. Both Robert & I, on the contrary, are more than ever sure that he has a soul, and a good, true, thoughtful soul too! Well, but we did’nt take him with us. We left him with Baby. Then on we went to Pisa, arrived after three hours, about eight oclock p.m.—left our carpet bag at the diligence-office & thought we had done wonders in taking the coupé of the diligence to Spezzia, which diligence was to set out at half past twelve the same night. To pass the time, we intended to loiter in the cathedral, & then to pay a visit to the Irvings, [3] and to go to a caffè—for refreshment. As we approached the cathedral, a voice said “Is it possible”? and the kind, cordial Irvings stood there, delighted to see us. So after seeing together the bones of San Raniero which were exposed for the occasion as it was his festa [4] .. (there was an illumination in Pisa, and a particularly brilliant one, inasmuch as the saint was offended last year at the scarcity of candles, which produced the Austrian invasion & various other evils, ..) we went home with them & they gave us tea, .. or rather supper & tea together, prawns, ices, cold chicken, cakes of all kinds. Nothing could be more considerate, & we did justice to everything. Then they kept us, would’nt let us go, until past twelve oclock, & Mr Irving walked down with us to the diligence-office. Most agreeable, intelligent people, certainly; and the young man is so miraculously better, after hanging over the grave for months, that it was quite pleasant to see him & them so happy again– He has a great fancy for us, and Mrs Irving told us that he was always longing to go to Florence, “because Mr & Mrs Browning were there”. In spite of illness, he has lately taken honours in the Pisan university, to his father’s great satisfaction. Mrs Irving is an attractive, vivacious little creature, as I think I told you once—owing something to art, in her remarkable youthfulness of appearance, and a good deal to nature:—clever too, and spirited:—we both like her. She professed to have turned Tory extraordinary, having been frightened out of her wits during the late disturbances, .. going to bed, for nights & nights, in an agony of terror:—she hoped that we did’nt pretend to object to the Austrians!! Mr Irving, who is an extreme liberal, spoke despondently of the prospects of Italy, and shook his head over the doings in Rome. He believes that the real Romans are not the fighters in the breach—he blamed Mazzini for want of wide views & discretion. As a patriot & hero let none accuse him—but as a wise man (and wisdom shd be a part of virtue,) there are other words to say. I consider Rome with an unspeakable melancholy. What France is doing, has been an alternative; and you must consider her line of conduct in relation to the policy of Europe generally & not abstractedly. It seems to me impossible not to regret the bombardment of dear Rome, [5] but most unjust not to remember that if France had stood off, her fate would have been yet more miserable. Was Austria to be allowed to impose an absolute Pope, unconditionally? Yet there was nothing for France to do apart from her actual doing, but to allow this, unless she had recognized in haste the Roman republic & rushed hastily into a general war. My opinion has always been that Mazzini shd have accepted the terms of France in the interests of Italy. The passiveness of the French wd have been worse than their activity—and I hope you will observe the outcry of the whole Tory press against this act of France, together with the significant protest of the papal nuncio,—oh, they all know very well that the pope wont be made absolute by France. At the same time, the expedition has been badly managed, .. and there is much to go to one’s heart in the condition of Rome. I shd feel still more for those who are fighting there if they had fought well before, as they might have done, & shut the gates of Italy against Austria. Piedmont had no helpers, she who fought for all– Where were the helpers of Venice? yet Venice struggles on still, heroic without a crime: the blood of no Rossi cries out from her. If I led a regiment it wd be for Venice. Yet Robert is delighted that you shd care so much for Rome, & he has been himself in the most painful anxiety– See how one cant help writing on these subjects, yet I agree that there’s a peril in it! Letters are opened, dogs are to be killed in the streets (lest they shd interfere with the Austrian cavalry[)], all sorts of insolences perpetrated .. The blood boils in my veins sometimes—but poor Tuscany is now “a province of Austria” indeed. The walls were overwritten in various places with these words, “uniti con Roma”, .. and some cruel wit has preceded them with a large P ..! “puniti con Roma”. [6] Now I must go on to talk of something else.
We found the coupè we had striven for, different from other coupès, & quite exposed to the weather, .. the rain drove in our faces all night, .. a drizzle of rain, dying my cheeks black from my veil. Impossible to sleep, though Robert tucked up my feet across his knees as usual. At seven in the morning we arrived at Pietra Santa, [7] & were allowed half an hour for breakfast .. I made my way to a bedroom & washed my face & tied up my hair, which hung down straight below my waist– The effect on the waiters must have been prodigious! An excellent, clean breakfast put a little life into us, and we had the inside of the diligence the whole way to Spezzia for the rest of the day. At two we arrived there, after passing through the most exquisite & varied country you can imagine—through Massa, & Carrara & the heart of the white marble mountains, .. through olive-forests & chesnut-forests, .. the trees thronging the ways on each side of us, swinging their thick ropes of vines. I never saw the olive grow so magnificently like a forest tree as in this country, nor the vines so luxuriant. Italy never struck me as so wonderfully beautiful. Spezzia (you will wonder at our going to Spezzia, but Robert seemed to have a fancy for Spezzia & the sea, so I took care to agree at once .. I have been really uneasy about him Arabel!) Spezzia is full of beauty—the hills sweeping down abruptly into the blue waves & carrying the woods with them. There is an esplanade in front of the town close to the sea, .. an avenue a mile long of accacia trees: shade & coolness there is always. The town itself is small & noisy, full of men, soldiers & fishermen, & mosquitos, .. scarcely a woman to be seen anywhere,—but beyond the gates of the town, they swore to us, the mosquitos do not reach. We went to look at a few houses, which were pleasantly situated enough, and found the prices enormous .. I shd think the proprietors had gone mad or else that they waited for mad visitors– Think of five or six little, brick floored rooms, with two or three summer-house chairs (without a cushion) in each, to be charged from ten to fourteen guineas a month!—here, in Italy! Sane or insane, the people did not persuade us, .. seeing that such prices were altogether beyond our means,—so that, after staying two days in an inn of indescribable beastliness, we turned back to Pietra Santa, setting off at five in the morning, arrived there to dinner at two, .. took a light carriage & drove to Seravezza which has the reputation of being cool, and is a very beautiful mountain-village, situated in the close fist of the mountains, romantic rocks driving in their perpendicular wedges to the houses’ roots, and a wild stream working itself into white anger, like curdled milk, through the whole town. We saw two apartments—one miserable, & both too dear—& then we returned to Pietra Santa, & took another carriage straight on to the Baths of Lucca. Now Robert was always prejudiced against the Baths of Lucca, because the English always thronged there & gave it a watering place notoriety—but I persuaded him to go there just to see it, & no more. It seemed a reproach not to have seen these celebrated Baths, & purely to please me he agreed to cast a glance over them on our way to some mountain wilderness, such as the frontier town of San Marcello, or Cutigliano [8] farther on. Well—we went to the Baths of Lucca. The people at Pietra Santa gave us only a one horse carriage & deceived us as to the distance, and it was nearly two in the morning before we reached the hotel at the Baths. Imagine how exhausted I was! No springs (or nothing worth mentioning!) to the carriage and nothing eaten since our dinner at two in the day. It was pitch dark except for the fire-flies, which were so numerous that we seemed to be travelling through the stars .. say, the milky way. Both of us were very tired (imagine how wonderfully stronger I must be to be able to bear it at all!) and Robert comforted me by predictions that we should’nt attain to even a crust of bread at the hotel at that time of night, .. to which I answered soothingly that in such a case I shd be dead before morning. Well, we arrived: the waiter & chambermaid in dishevelled condition, came to offer their services, and we asked humbly for beds and a little something to eat .. a cup of tea if it were possible. Upon which, by the time I had brushed the dust out of my hair & put on my nightcap, (which I did directly to have the less to do afterwards) up came a splendid collation .. tea, .. hot rolls, excellent butter, an English ham, a cold chicken, and a fruit tart, .. just as if we had been expected all day. It is the most admirable hotel possible, and I could’nt have believed in the supernatural cleanness & alacrity of it on this side the Alps. In the morning I was still alive. We went to find out the Ogilvys who were charmed to see us, or seemed so, & recommended a house adjoining their own, .. Robert having lost his prejudices against the place, as by the touch of a talisman, in looking up to the noble mountains & down to the bounding river. I did’nt persuade him, .. I would’nt say a word. I felt it to be such an object that he shd like the place we went to, that I rather begged him to do nothing in a hurry, & to see San Marcello before he decided. But, Arabel, certainly the Baths of Lucca is an exquisite place. You may take some suggestion of it from Malvern, .. only Malvern is nothing in comparison. There is a throng of mountains, much higher of course & more romantic than the Worcestershire hills, .. the chesnut woods running up them perpendicularly, and the pretty, bright village, with a scattering of villa residences, burrowing, like rabbits, in the clefts of the rocks, .. & on each side of the alive little river, which rushes with a ceaseless sound & sequence of waterfalls through the midst of the whole. You look up at some of the houses, and wonder if the people who live there have wings. It is most beautiful. The town itself is not larger than Great Malvern, .. perhaps with more shops .. the quiet, absolute—and in consequence of the flight of the English from Italy, plenty of vacant houses at very reasonable prices– I call ten shillings a week a reasonable price. Then, there is a reading room where one can see the date of the rest of the world coming to an end, (which it seems to be doing rapidly,) and circulating libraries where one can get some sort of books, good or bad. And there are donkeys with spanish side-saddles, .. & the air is cool & refreshing, & famous for its influence over children. And the cleanliness is wonderful: the houses look as if they washed their faces in the river every morning. Some people compare this place to Matlock, others to scenes in Cumberland, [9] .. & I bid you think of Malvern–—so you may suppose that it is really very beautiful. You have no stare [10] as at Malvern—so you are not to think of that. It is a deep valley .. with mountains hand in hand all round it! and you only see their sides & the ravines, & the tops against the blue sky.
We stayed a whole day at these Baths, and I walked twice in the course of it up to the Bagni Caldi—steeper than any staircase—weak people are carried up in portantini! [11] I was astonished at myself—something in the change of air must have added to my actual strength, which is wonderfully improved, as you may suppose. I seem to be new strung all over. I wont say that I was’nt tired, for I was tired, & have felt so ever since, but it has done me no sort of harm,—none. We dined at the table d’hôte connected with the hotel, in company with Gibson [12] (the sculptor from Rome) & two or three other English gentlemen. Going to the reading room, somebody came up with a cordial face & outstretched hand .. Mr Lever of Lorrequer reputation. He said .. “Mr Browning, I believe”, .. and then went on to say how he considered it his reproach, to have inhabited Florence for months together with us, without making our personal acquaintance. He has an open countenance radiant with good humour, & the most frank, ingratiating manner possible—no expression of high intellect; but the mind is active & able, & the animal spirits minister to it. He did his best to recommend the Bagni, and said that he was there with eight horses & six servants, & never lived so cheaply in his life. In truth, Mr Lever lives on a very large scale wherever he is, & nobody knows how he does it. It is said that he makes all his money by literature; and, if so, he finds it a thriving trade. His youngest child is five months old [13] .. nearly two months older than ours: & you wd have thought that he provided for it by persuading us to settle at the Bagni, .. so eagerly he argued the point. Of course that was a touch of the blarney. No Irish accent, though, and particularly gentlemanly in the conventional sense of manners. Gibson is like Carlyle, Robert says– Slow and quiet in his way of talking—small features, &, in proportion to them, a wide brow. Not a man of high education evidently—very simple & earnest, like all great artists, or most of them. We had tea with the Ogilvys, & returning to the hotel to sleep, were on the road to Lucca (the town—15 miles off) at four in the morning .. at Lucca, took the railroad, & paid 11d each for our journey of an hour to Pisa. At Pisa we had to wait an hour & a half for the Florence railroad,—went into a caffè & had breakfast .. (two great breakfast cups of coffee, & two buttered hot rolls, ..) for which breakfast we paid two pence halfpenny each. For two & sixpence each we went to Florence by the railroad, .. a journey of three hours & some sixty miles .. and the nearer we went to Florence the hotter we grew,—hotter & hotter. What made me hotter still than the sun, was a sudden anxiety about little babe– If anything had happened to him we cd not have heard—Wilson did not know where to write. We scarcely dared speak to the porter as we reached home, .. till he said “Tutto va bene” [14] .. which made us very happy. Then, we rushed up stairs, saw at the door of our apartment, there, was Wilson, & the balia & the child in her arms! He opened wide his blue eyes, with wonder in them at such an irruption of kisses! he looked rosier & fatter & sweeter than ever—he always smells like a rose after rain. Wilson said that he had been in a constant paradise of good humour, laughing & cooing. He is more goodhumoured than ever, I think. Now he does’nt cry even when he is dressed, unless he happens to be very sleepy indeed. Not that he pretends to like being dressed, only if you talk to him & take off his attention, it is a different thing. Sometimes he makes a little pettish mouth, drawing down the corners, .. trying to cry—& then he laughs instead—and we have found out a brass ornament on the chest of drawers which being loose, twirls & goes round, and as he considers this by far the most wonderful phenomenon he has yet seen in the world, he will submit to any operation, .. having his stays tied & all, .. rather than turn his eyes from it. You need’nt be afraid of the bath any of you—it is not more than tepid now that the weather is so hot. If you were to look at him, you would not fancy that he had been relaxed unduly by warm water. Henrietta is shocked at our (Robert & me) going to see him bathed together, but such a pretty sight it is, that I for one, have quite forgotten to think of the indecency of it. Never once has he cried in relation to water. He is in ecstasies to get in, and it is his ambition to make a great splash, .. all over the carpet and into his own eyes, .. and then he laughs, he is so pleased. Is not this better than to make a poor child scream with terror, which the use of cold water, or even what he felt to be cold water, wd be sure to do? This sort of bathing does him good—he seems to expand in the bath. The water has been gradually made colder, and now it is tepid .. not more than that, .. and so it is to be left. I certainly think that our system has answered admirably, & you wd say so if you saw him. His body looks as if it were modelled in wax, the skin is so smooth and rose-white, and the limbs so rounded & dimpled. There never has been the least irritation of the skin anywhere, though he is so fat that it might have been expected. We have not used soap once to him, except occasionally to his head. What’s the use of soap when he is at least five minutes in the bath every morning, & when he has a half bath in a basin, every evening? Wilson is so angry with me for telling you his eyes are small. I had said so once or twice, & then she had exclaimed that “really she did’nt know when I should be satisfied”—but “how I could go & write such a thing to England, was past her understanding”. (Perhaps I did it to prove to you my virtuous impartiality.) She declares that his eyes are not small, .. just in proportion .. and indeed it [is] her opinion that they wd be quite ugly if they were any larger. Dear Wilson is very fond of the child & thinks him perfect altogether, and is sure that you have none of you any idea of his sweetness & goodness. You cant understand how he can be like Robert & Henrietta too—nor can I precisely. (Sophia Cottrell told me yesterday that I had grown the image of Henrietta myself– “She never saw such a change in any human being! Quite miraculous it was.”– It must be, if I am like Henrietta!—) In fact I dont think he is like any specific person in my family; though there is a family look sometimes, particularly when he smiles. The likeness is to Robert—but you would not see it, I dare say, because unless you were very familiar with Robert’s features and expression, you could not trace a resemblance in the little face where everything is round & rosy & infantine. When he is grave & shuts his lips close, he is very like Robert, who thinks that he is like his mother, .. which may well be. Yet people say sometimes that he has my forehead & eyes—Wilson does; & there is a look of the Barretts certainly. One thing is sure that he is full of intelligence—so fond of music that he remains fixed while Robert plays .. & beginning to prove a most precocious understanding in most things. A child, eighteen months old, was here the other day—Annunciata’s granddaughter—and his legs were found to be just double the size—of hers. People wonder at him for size & vigour, & guess his age at two or three months older than what is true—yet with all this strength there is no coarseness—on the contrary his features & complexion are very delicate .. like a little girl’s—he is taken for a girl often. Oh darling Arabel, how I too am grieved that you shd not see him in his quite babyhood! it is a grievous disappointment indeed. Cant you imagine what a joy I miss, in looking down at our happy, shattered plans? Well—as you say, it is impossible to know where we may be driven by the next current of wind. The state of Italy does not admit of any stedfast scheme of habitation– We shall go to the Baths of Lucca for a time,—quite necessary for Robert, and indeed for us all, the heat here being extreme—the thermometer at eighty in my bedroom. We have written an offer to Pagnini the keeper of the hotel, [15] .. of nine shillings a day (two francesconi) for us all, our two selves, Wilson & the balia, for which he is to give us a suite of private rooms, & to provide breakfast & tea in our rooms—we agreeing to dine at the table d’hôte. He told us that he wd do it for thirteen & sixpence—we have no answer to our offer nor can till tomorrow. Just now comes a letter from Mr Irving to Robert, begging to know if we are going to the Baths of Lucca, by return of post—because if we go, he will. See what favorites we are!– Yes, and we like them very much indeed—we write to say that we go.
Mr Righi is settled in his shop at Prato & beginning to prosper. He writes to Wilson & comes to see her very regularly, and she is quite satisfied with him. Indeed I believe him to be a young man of excellent principles & sincerely attached to her. As to their marrying, they will be prudent & wait till they can marry with good prospects. There is a subject, Arabel, on which I perfectly agree with you—more than I like to say, even. A great & superfluous fuss is made about income, only this is not a question on which one can judge for another. At the same time, being quite clear of debt is necessary, and also a determination to limit one’s desires to one’s means. If one cant eat white bread, there is brown bread: & one lives as well on either! How little Robert & I spend on dress, for instance, would surprise you, who are not extravagant in such things! Give my dearest love to dearest Trippy– Oh, I do hope that Mrs Gordon will satisfy her just claim—I do hope so! Arabel, will you try to get my ‘Seraphim’ sent to me by Mrs Gordon? If it were possible, we shd like to have Robert’s book beside—& in the case of its being so, send to Miss Browning for it—will you? We wanted to send you a Daguer[r]eotype of Baby, if we cd manage it, .. by Count Cottrell .. but he made so many complaints to us of the commissions with which he was overpowered, that we did not dare to ask him to do anything for us. Darling Arabel, persevere in the homœopathy, since it does you good, .. & I can easily conceive of that. Take care, in yourself, of what I so unspeakably love. May God bless you, my dearest!
Your Ba–
Thanks on thanks for your letters.
Direct Bagni di Lucca, Tosca<n>a.—and do write—I beseech you write.
Love to dearest Minny.
We dont go to the Hotel after all—because to our surprise the proprietor of a delightful apartment has closed with our offer of twelve pounds for 4 months. We shant stay so long perhaps. [16] He asked eighteen.
I wonder at your imaginations about Flush. How ungrateful & fickle you think me! Why Flush has as much love & perhaps more attention than ever. He is no longer jealous of Baby, & when baby lies on the floor on aunt Jane’s worsted couvre-pied [17] (did she ever think it wd come to such use) Flush lies close beside.
Address, on integral page: Care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Arabel Barrett) / 12 Beaumont Street / Devonshire Place / New Road / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, I, 253–262.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. Month and year provided by London postmark of 4 July 1849. Beginning day suggested by EBB’s mention of leaving for the “Gulph of Spezzia six days ago” and by reference to the Brownings’ travel permit for La Spezia, dated 16 June 1849, which is recorded in the Passport Register in the State Archives of Florence. Closing day derived from EBB’s references to the Brownings’ negotiations for lodging at Bagni di Lucca, which are also discussed in letter 2799.
2. The Gulf of Spezia is on the coast road about midway between Pisa and Genoa. According to Murray’s Hand-Book for Travellers in Northern Italy (1847), it is “not less remarkable for its beauty than its security … possessing from nature more advantages than the art of man could possibly bestow” (p. 114).
4. San Ranieri of Pisa (1117–61) was a well-educated son of a wealthy Pisan merchant. After making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, he returned to Pisa where his many reported healings and conversions eventually led to his canonization. He was made the patron saint of Pisa in the 13th century, and according to Murray’s Hand-Book, “there is a triennial fête in honour of him called the Illuminaria, early in June, when the whole of the Lung’Arno is illuminated. It is a beautiful sight” (p. 452). Murray’s also notes that the transept in the cathedral is “called the Crociera di San Ranieri,” (p. 444).
5. In early June, the French expeditionary force under Oudinot laid siege to Rome and began a bombardment of the city. By the end of the month the Republic capitulated—contrary to Mazzini’s wishes.
6. “United with Rome,” and “punished with Rome.”
7. About halfway between Pisa and La Spezia.
8. San Marcello and Cutigliano are situated to the northeast of Bagni di Lucca, on what was at that time the border between Tuscany and Modena.
9. The border area of northwest England which is present-day Cumbria; Matlock is a popular resort in Derbyshire with mineral springs and baths.
10. i.e., a panorama.
11. “Sedan chairs.” Bagni Caldi is one of three villages at Bagni di Lucca; the other two are Bagno alla Villa and Ponte a Serraglio. Presumably, the Brownings were staying in the latter village at the Hôtel de l’Europe, as EBB refers to “the table d’hôte connected with the hotel,” and a “reading room.” Murray’s Hand-Book describes “3 excellent hotels” at Ponte a Serraglio, “the chief one is the Hôtel de l’Europe; all belonging to one owner, Pagnini … . He has also established a club-house, … including a large table d’hôte, library, reading room, billiard-table, card-room, &c” (p. 417).
12. John Gibson (1790–1866), an English sculptor born in Wales, had gone to Rome in 1817.
13. Sydney Lever, the Levers’ fourth child and third daughter, born on 20 January 1849 at Bagni di Lucca.
14. “All’s well,” or “everything’s fine.”
15. Gustavo Pagnini, hotelier (see note 11).
16. The Brownings stayed in Bagni di Lucca from 30 June until 17 October. The “delightful apartment” was in Casa Valeri, Bagni Caldi; see letter 2799.
17. “Coverlet,” or “quilt.”
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