2809. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 15, 327–335.
[Bagni di Lucca]
August 17th [1849] [1]
My beloved Arabel I have your letter & begin by thanking you & reproaching you (you will be pleased to understand it as a real, serious reproach of somebody in a state of vexation) for sending Baby the frock you speak of. Dearest Arabel, you are wrong to be so kind, .. and indeed I suspect you must be mad when you set down in writing that you regret not having sent any more presents!! Have you a genius of the Lamp? Yes! of the ‘old lamp’, [2] which always burns bright with affection for me. But dont rub it to make more miracles .. you will make me enraged. I have been overwhelmed with presents from dearest Trippy & Henrietta & your darling self; and I give you all warning that henceforward I shall kick against the prick [3] of all such rose-bushes. Still, I wont say that the “frock” is’nt likely to please me. Worked by your hands, how could it else? And, however thick the material, it wont be too thick for the winter—do not fear—for Wilson & I have agreed that Baby must have mous[s]eline de laine & merino in the cold weather, and she had already cut off the tail of his cashmere mantle to make a frock of when the time comes. Twice since we came here Sophia Cottrell’s child has come to see us in a merino frock—which certainly struck us all as most extraordinary in the summer-months—but that baby is fenced in against every breath of air, poor little Lily .. (they call her Lily: it is’nt a flower of speech on my part,), and whenever she comes, somebody is to shut the window or the door or something, .. (Imagine this, in Italy.) & there are dreadful fears of the dampness of sunsets & moon risings. Whereas our little Wiedeman (pronounced Weedyman—the naturalized W is not V understand, as in Germany) though less than half her age, goes out with short muslin frocks & bare arms, with a white muslin cape tied on loosely, and flourishes in all sorts of draughts by day & night, .. sleeping with the window open, undressed by the open window (no sort of precaution taken) & in the open air till dusk. He never catches cold. He is like a rose & grows with the dew.
You wont believe me perhaps, but my reason for writing today was not that I wanted to write about him. Only I could’nt help thanking you for the frock .. which I have not seen yet of course as Mrs Gordon has been in quarantine in Genoa & cant arrive until Saturday, .. and thanking you for your goodness about the lace beside, .. & for every affectionate word & thought. But I am writing today about dearest Trippy, because I desire to tell you of a conversation which Robert has just had with Count Cottrell on the subject of her affairs. Your letter made me unhappy & very anxious. I had fully expected that Mrs Gordon would have seen Trippy & been frank as to her means of atoning for the wrong inflicted, leaving them loyally at Trippy’s disposal. If she had done this we shd all have respected & pitied her—she would have done well & honourably. The account you sent us on the other hand .. what was to be said of that? Robert formed so strong an opinion of the whole case that he declared we could have nothing to say to her when she came, .. that he did not like for either my sake or his own, to associate with persons so absolutely wanting in common integrity. I said “Let us see” at least. I still had some hope. Well, the day before yesterday, we met the Cottrells who had called on us & found nobody at home. Robert observed a certain embarrassment in the manner of both of them; and, said he, “I am confident Cottrell wants to have the subject out & done with”;—only there was no opportunity at the “Ponte” [4] where we met, for private conversation. This morning he went to return their visit, and after seeing Sophia a message came from Count Cottrell to ask him to go into the next room– The object was plain– Robert had determined to say nothing unless the occasion was given,—but, in that case, to speak out fully & frankly his own view of the affair, without caring for any one– We agreed before he went, that it was best to do so, & not to leave Mrs Gordon in the delusion that the shame was covered by the misfortune, in the eyes of bystanders. I particularly begged him, to prevent them from relying on Papa, which probably they had been doing .. which certainly they had, since the first words showed it– “Miss Tripsack is living at Mr Barrett’s, is she not?” And so they plunged into the subject. Count Cottrell evidently wanted to know how much Robert knew & what his impression was .. Robert avoided stigmatizing Mr Gordon’s conduct as much as possible except as the facts did so,—& began by observing that of course it was no business of his, (Robert’s) except as Miss Tripsack was the oldest & dearest of friends to his wife, but that that was one of the closest of ties to him, & that she had been kindly affectionate to us both since our marriage—that I had been very anxious on the subject, & that he had naturally heard the particulars of the whole business—considered it most deplorable—told Count Cottrell how it began by the absolute trust which Trippy placed in Mr Gordon, both as a lawyer & a friend .. how she imagined that her money was going to Mr Tulk & not himself .. how he gave her securities which were just worth nothing .. & how it ended in her ruin, through excess of faith. A great deal more he said, which I need’nt write here– Count Cottrell replied very little, .. made no excuses– Robert said he was sorry for him—which was something for Robert to say—for he has been raging against Count Cottrell for putting his hand to so dirty a business as the escorting Mrs Gordon through London under the presumed circumstances. He made it quite clear that Papa meant to do nothing—“Not” said Robert “that Mr Barrett is at all deficient in generosity, .. but that he is very peculiar.” (It was right not to allow them to hang their consciences to dry on a supposition like that .. although I myself cant doubt for a moment that Papa only waits the conclusion of the affair to come forward as he ought: only it was just & right that Mrs Gordon should not depend on any probability of the kind.) Robert’s impression is that they have all been just “waiting to see” whether there was a chance of escaping the restitution, & what sort of view was likely to be taken of the point, if they did, by persons acquainted with the whole subject. After a good deal of conversation, Count Cottrell said .. “Well, my sister in law has five hundred a year, and if she lives with economy & is a little assisted by her aunts, she may be able to spare an annual hundred—but more than that, it will be impossible for her to do for Miss Tripsack.” Without making any observation as to the adequacy of such an arrangement, Robert repeated that it was a most hard case, & shd be a lesson to women not to take the administration of their affairs into their own hands. “For my part,” continued Robert, “if anyone came to me to ask me for money, I should know whether I wished to give it or not; but if a transaction of this sort were proposed to me by any friend whatever, I should refer him straight to my lawyer, not pretending to understand matters of business.” Of course a very pungent reproach to poor Mr Gordon who assumed to be both lawyer & friend! Count Cottrell bore it all mildly, simply observing that his brother in law had lost his life by too assiduous efforts to replace the money lent to him.– So Robert told me all this when he returned, and although you must see that it must not be quoted, nor hinted at in any way, because it was a confidential conversation and between persons not authorized to conclude anything, I cant help writing directly to relieve my dearest Trippy’s mind a little– You see that something is likely to be done for her. Only dont let her say a word of this to the Mintos– It is strictly private. The Mintos are not likely to see a farthing of their money, and even in Trippy’s case, it seems to be less the justice than the necessity of the case which will produce the good we look for. Count Cottrell asked what Trippy had remaining– “Just four hundred pounds”, said Robert, “she who has always lived in prosperous circumstances.” I think he has done good by letting them see the view we took of the whole affair .. & he has not the least doubt in his own mind, that at least a hundred a year will be conceded. I think George might contend for the whole annual sum that she received from Mr Gordon—they might be made to strain a point & give a hundred & fifty or thirty. If Mrs Gordon has five hundred a year in Florence, that is equal to fifteen hundred a year in London—and it is all stuff & shame talking of “perhaps economizing a hundred” out of that. I would rather, as you say, wrap myself & my children in sackcloth, in order to wipe out as far as I could the stain upon the memory of their father & my husband. By doing so, I should best comfort myself, & ennoble them. Also we know what can be done, .. we who with three servants, keep the estimate of our expenses at two hundred a year, & never exceed three .. calculating extraordinary occasions, travelling, carriage hiring, medical attendance & the like,—& living in the utmost comfort & without parsimony. Of course we cant do everything we like, .. and, who can? Not even dear Mr Kenyon, who (I heard from Miss Mitford yesterday, who had it from Mr Harness) has come into two hundred thousand pounds from his brother in law’s inheritance. There’s a fortune to spend,—in addition to what he had before!– Well! I am quite satisfied with much less– We arrange everything as if we had only two hundred a year, because that’s the only settled part of our income, & we take the rest for extraordinary expences which must come in some shape or other. Sometimes, Robert has to put off having his hair cut, and I to postpone a new pair of shoes .. but we have never yet put off paying a bill, .. & get on most admirably on the whole. Indeed I am sure that everyone thinks we are much richer than we are—which is not always very convenient– I have had to explain before now, “But we are poor—we cant do this or that”– The great rooms at Florence lead people into mistakes. With Mrs Gordon’s five hundred a year we should live like the Grand Duke, .. without the spot on his reputation. Wretched Grand Duke! only not very unworthy of his subjects who have been kissing his feet & calling him ‘l’intrepido’ [5] & other appropriate epithets. What do you think the heroic people of Florence are going to do next week in his company? Keep the ‘festa’ of the Emperor of Russia, to be sure! [6] There’s consistent patriotism for you! In the meanwhile the Austrian officers are making Florence so charming, that nothing can be like it—people dont mind even being fried .. they cant ‘get away’. There have been mock fights in the Cascine to show Leopold how his faithful subjects were slaughtered in Lombardy, & he & his Florentines clap hands at it. [7] Heroic Charles Albert dead of a broken heart before the misfortunes of Italy & the ingratitude of his friends, [8] .. how Leopold’s guardian angel (if he has one) must envy that noble fate for the future “Fieldmarshall of the austrian armies in the peninsula”!! Leopold is to be just that, they say. And now I wont write any more of him.
Mrs Gordon is coming here with her children, & Count Cottrell has taken a house for her near his own, till the end of October for six pounds. In Florence she is to live in the apartment above the ground floor which he occupies; & I understand there is an arrangement that the two families are to be cooked for by the same cook,—Mrs Gordon engaging only one servant for her separate establishment. Certainly he has been & is full of affectionate kindness to his wife’s family. It will not be an increase of expence to him, of course; but still, not many men would like the annoyance of having six children in the same house, (too closely related to treat as strangers) and a widowed sister in law dependent on him for protection.—
My dearest dear Arabel, I admire you for your energy & perseverance about the Ragged schools, but I do think that it is quite, quite wrong in you to run such obvious risks in this cholera-time. [9] You make my blood run cold when you tell me of walking through alleys in Westminster, & joining in crowded associations on hot evenings– Now Arabel—I do beg & beseech you to take care, & to consider the duty of modifying habits of this kind under such peculiar circumstances– I altogether doubt whether schools shd be allowed to assemble .. schools of that character .. while the cholera lasts. Where it prevails, the authorities have often found it necessary to prevent assemblages of people even in the open air: & in close rooms there must be a more positive degree of danger. Oh do get out of town, all of you, as fast as you can– I am not easy indeed. Yet your letter on the whole made me easier—for I was very uncomfortable at the prolonged silence .. very .. I fancied myself into a thick growth of presentiments & was getting lowspirited in spite of Robert’s ratiocinations. Now, is there a chance, I wonder, of your coming abroad? On the Rhine somewhere? or in France? I hear the Certosa [10] is delightful in the summer & autumn. I have had a letter from Mr Irving, from Leghorn, (he calls our boy a “she”, which deeply offends us,) & a friend of his has wished to persuade him to go to the Certosa, & thence to Nice for the winter. Oh, if you could come anywhere within reach, & rush down to us in a whirlwind—some of you at least. We would house you, & in what joy! The whole journey from London to this place, cost Count Cottrell, he says, nine pounds—and he took the first class in the railroads, which is not at all necessary even for women. The Ogilvys always, on the continent, travel by the second class—they declare they would’nt think of doing otherwise, & were surprised at our extravagance in doing it when we left Florence for Spezzia. So on this second journey we took their advice, & found the second train pleasant in every way, furnished with sofas—filled with well dressed women .. I dont believe that anybody in Italy except Grand Dukes & that sort of canaille (including ignorant English people like ourselves) go by first class carriages. Take care in any case to select a healthy neighbourhood within reach of medical advice, when you leave London.— What a dull letter I am writing today—but it is all written, please to understand, on dearest Trippy’s affairs– Is it not right that she should see how matters stand? Only be very particular to let no word of this pass beyond your own circle—and also … Robert is afraid lest my brothers .. George for instance .. should think he had been meddling .. that he had not practised the proper delicacy of reserve. I say it is impossible anyone can think so: and indeed it was important & certainly has had its weight, that his & my opinion should be made clear to the Cottrells & Mrs Gordon. From opinions in England they are at a distance,—but our’s confronts them daily. Give my dearest love to Trippy. Always I think of her.
Wilson is delighted about Baby’s frock & sash. She reproaches me for not making him fine enough, (he has’nt a sash in his possession yet) but his red cheeks are as good as ribbon or better. Also, you are not to think he is not always very becomingly dressed– Trust that to my vanity. Pretty lace & ribbon in his caps, & shoes to match every colour—but his frocks are plainly tucked, & Wilson is ambitious for him & thinks that he ought to have one very splendid one. So now, he has it, thanks to your dearest fingers! I like to hear all about Arlette’s baby,—& mind you give my love to her. So she has left off the caps already. Well—I know it is much the fashion—but I always said I would’nt do it, and Madme Biondi authorizing me to resist, Baby shall wear his caps till next spring. Mrs Ogilvy said, “Oh, but you ought after two months, to let him be bare headed—the hair grows better for it, and it is strengthening.” “No,” said I, “I wont! I am too vain to have my baby disfigured so”. So said, so done—and you ought to see him to know whether he has suffered. Her child, without caps from two months, has scarcely a down on his head .. quite bald at eleven months old. And mine at five has a head covered with glossy hair; it has grown so wonderfully since last I mentioned it to you. The difference of the strength of the two children is about as great. You see, if you keep on the caps .. light, thin caps, .. you may dare draughts & open windows—but otherwise a young child runs risks with that delicate, unprotected head of his. I am very glad that Arlette keeps to the tepid water. Mrs Ogilvy’s child is plunged into cold water—& so are many children of the English here .. shrieking of course all the time. The Italians dont torment their babies much with either hot or cold water. Baby was in fits of laughter in his bath yesterday, because Wilson held up the spunge squeezing it, & he trying to catch the stream of water with his little dimpled hands held up. He laughs in such a musical fresh voice—it is very pretty. Flush has grown immensely popular—and, curious to relate, Baby is fonder of Flush than Flush of Baby. Flush likes him well enough, but not nearly as well as he did Crow’s Lizzy, [11] as Wilson & I observe. He wont go out with Baby & the balia, unless Wilson goes too. Wilson nearly always does go with them, .. only if by any chance she does not, why Flush does not neither. On the other hand, Baby screams after Flush when he runs away under the bed, & is in an agony of joy to sieze hold of his ears, .. and to see him jump up for a piece of bread throws Baby into raptures of laughter. The merriest little creature that ever was, this child is. He is even rather too generally & indiscriminately philanthropical, smiling at everybody he sees out of doors. He smiled most graciously at Count Cottrell, who said he had grown so fat as to have exceeded all memory of his face. Oh—he is’nt heavily fat, or stupidly fat, I assure you—but he has a round infantine face—quite a cherubical baby-face, as in pictures, .. & whereas it is common for young babies to be pale, & he is so rosy, the colour expounds the dimples. There are quantities of babies here, .. nearly all the English who remained in Italy & had children, having come here from the heat .. and as their nurses choose the flattest walks, they are apt to walk all together. Seven or eight babies were together the other day, when two gentlemen came by, & one said to another, after turning round to examine the infant congregation, .. “That’s the fattest .. yes, & the prettiest too”, .. pointing at our child. A week or two ago, Dr Alnutt (whom Wilson recognized) came up & asked whose child he was. “Mrs Browning’s” .. [“]Why, are Mr & Mrs Browning here? A beautiful child, indeed!” And Dr Trotman (the other English physician here) asked the same question & admired him exceedingly. Somebody else called him (I am not sure I liked that) the “John Bull of the babies!” “and he looks so goodnatured too”. Goodnatured he certainly looks & is .. the sweetest tempered little face—and “so wise” as Wilson always adds. He does’nt crawl yet—but if he does’nt, it is rather from want of science than strength. When he is laid on his back on aunt Jane’s couvrepied, [12] he rolls round on his face, & lifts himself quite up on his hands .. then, lifts himself up by putting the soles of his feet on the ground. Then he rolls over & over .. off the couvrepied in a moment– The use of the bran, is that it softens the water & has at once a strengthening & detersive effect on the skin– Soap has never once touched Baby, except his head a few times, .. (Wilson washes his head & face before she puts him into the bath). Then, he is dried in a warm towel. Water has never made him cry once—he has only pleasant associations with it—and he does’nt cry now even when he is dressed, being too old & good. He understands & takes notice of everything; & particularly admires the slippers you made for Robert & the bag Henrietta worked for me. We give them to him to play with—they come after Flush’s ears. Will you write, you bad people?
Oh—Robert says it will be too late for the post. I meant to have written to Henrietta—dearest Henrietta. Tell her I love her dearly—she is wrong in some things .. in being out of spirits, for instance. Oh I shall be too late–
Love, best love .. from your own own
Ba.
Do you hear of Nelly Jago?
I read over nothing– Accept me at my worst– Do write the address more distinctly, particularly the first letter of the name– Direct simply Bagni di Lucca, Toscana, Ita.–
Robert’s best love.
If anyone writes to Mrs Martin I am going to write to her (say) about her commission.
Address, on integral page: Angleterre via France / Care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Arabel Barrett) / 12. Beaumont Street / Devonshire Place / New Road / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, I, 267–274.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. Year provided by postmark.
3. Cf. Acts 9:5.
4. i.e., Ponte a Serraglio, one of the three villages that form Bagni di Lucca.
5. “The intrepid.”
6. A reference to the recent pacification of Hungary by Austrian and Russian forces. In April 1849 Hungary’s leader, Lajos Kossuth, had declared his country independent of the Austrian Empire. Soon after, Russia joined Austria in military cooperation against the rebel state. By 13 August Kossuth had resigned, and nearly all of the Hungarian army had surrendered.
7. Tuscans had joined the King of Sardinia (Piedmont) in revolt against the Austrians, but defeat at Novara on 23 March 1849 led to the resumption of Austrian domination for another 11 years.
8. Unable to accept Radetzky’s terms of surrender after the defeat at Novara, Charles Albert (1798–1849), King of Sardinia (Piedmont), abdicated in favour of his son, Victor Emmanuel. On the night of the surrender, after some time with his sons, “he left the town in a carriage and, posing as the Comte de Barge, passed through the Austrian lines and started for Oporto … . There, four months later, he died, broken in spirit but consoled by his religion” (George Martin, The Red Shirt and the Cross of Savoy, New York, 1969, p. 343).
9. A report in The Ragged School Union Magazine for November 1854 noted that “in 1849, when the cholera raged in this very neighbourhood, it carried off 175 persons. During the last visitation only three cases are known to have been fatal” (p. 215).
10. We have been unable to determine which one of the many Certosa (Carthusian) monasteries in Italy EBB has in mind.
12. “Coverlet,” or “quilt.”
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