2875. EBB to Eliza Anne Ogilvy
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 16, 179–182.
Florence
August 28 [1850] [1]
I was much concerned, my dear Mrs Ogilvy, to hear of your bronchitis, (what business had it with you in the heat, I wonder) & then I was glad again that you had exchanged Capri, rocks & moonlight inclusive, for Sorrento & fresh meat for the little darlings, .. yes, & for yourselves, .. the truth being, alas, that moonlight, when taken in place of beef, wont do for the least sublunary of us. It is humbling to confess, but we are all akin to the old giant, and our celestials (the life of the soul as well as of the body) depend considerably on our terrestrials– We must touch the earth .. the beef .. to have any strength worth using. So I hope you are eating beef & drinking porter & getting very strong at Sorrento. Did you catch cold in that romantic ‘salone’ [2] which was only tenable when it did not rain, I wonder? Write & tell me in any case, that you are no longer suffering, & that the rest of you are as well as ever. You delight me with your account of Alexander. What joy it must be to you to see him so joyous & vivacious after the long delicacy which caused you such anxiety! I hold him full in my fancy with his rosy cheeks & curling hair—& ‘how very pretty he must be!’, I keep saying to myself .. because he always was pretty, & only wanted the animation & infantine ‘verve’ which have come with health, it seems. Only, what can you mean by thinking of giving him the ‘toga’, the blouse,—oh, I shall be careful not to turn my baby into a boy so soon! I grudge even the reign of the frocks– I like him better in a white petticoat than in anything else, and our balia is quite ‘vergognosa’ [3] she says, about the nudities I insist on. Why you would’nt certainly cover up the dimpled arms & shoulders? For my part, the more the little white vestment curdles up to the knees, & drops down to the waist, the more I am pleased.
And now let me tell you of ourselves, which will be beginning a tale of disasters. Indeed even if you should have secretly thought that nothing except our having all been at the point of death could excuse my silence to you, I shall still have some claim on pardon,—for I have been very ill, & Wiedeman has been ill too, and although through God’s mercy he is quite well now, I am so far from strong, as not to be able to rise from this chair without somebody’s help, & poor Robert has to carry me to the carriage like an infant,—& when I look in the glass (while everybody is crying aloud how much better I am looking) I see nothing but a perfectly white & black face, the eyes being obliterated by large blots of blackness, which produce an effective contrast. Wiedeman’s illness came from a sort of sun-stroke & frightened us much! Think of the grief of seeing him return from his walk one day with glassy, staring eyes, hot head, & cheeks of scarlet! He lay in a half stupor, & took no notice of anybody except by kicking out his foot when he was spoken to, .. as much as to say ‘Dont speak to me– I cant attend to it’. We thought at first it was an attack from the teeth, or a milliary fever perhaps, .. but Dr Harding wd not lance the gums, being decided in his impression that it was altogether from exposure to the sun; & the result justified him fully & freed us from anxiety at the end of four & twenty hours, after the administration of grey powder, castor oil, & other drugs, which deprive me of my priveledge of boasting that “Wiedeman has never wanted medecine”. Poor, little angel!—when the heat & stupor were gone he had a bad cough & cold .. the development, said Dr H, of the previous attack—& we wont speak much of a most demoniacal fit of ill temper which was also, I suppose, symptomatical. Now he is entirely well– Thank God for it. In respect to myself, you will guess what has been the matter .. but I never had so severe an accident .. not even at Pisa. It took place more than a month ago, & Dr Harding has only just taken leave ‘professionally’ of me, with the injunction to change the air instantly, though I feel very little equal to such an exertion. He told my husband that not one in five thousand women wd be affected as I have been (to such an extreme) & that in his own practice he had not seen another instance. For two days & two nights I was packed in ice, .. & Robert was with me the whole night without going to bed,—& I could not say one ‘Go to bed’, I felt so uncertain in my own mind how it was to end. Every previous precaution had been taken– I had not stirred out of the house for weeks, determining not to hurt myself by long walks this time. But the vexation is over now, & there’s no use talking of it: and, even at the time, the sense of danger was the stronger with me, just as thankfulness to God should absorb me now. I dont want to leave the world, you see, while Robert & Wiedeman are in it. Dr Harding says that in a week or two or three I shall be stronger than ever, and I feel, myself, that this is like the fag-end of debility & that soon I shall be past it. What has affected me very much, & Robert too, has been the dreadful event you must have seen in the papers .. the loss, by shipwreck, of our poor friend Mdme Ossoli with her husband & child– Robert wanted to keep it from me till I was stronger—but that was impossible: I saw in his eyes that something was the matter, &, if I had not, the first letter, or visit, wd have told me. She was much drawn to both of us in affection, & we to her—& a part of her last evening in Italy was spent here. She said with her peculiar smile that “the ship was called the Elizabeth, & she accepted it as a good omen—though a prediction had been made to her husband that the sea wd be fatal to him.” In sight of shore, of the home, American shore! O great God, how terrible are Thy judgements! The whole associations have been the more poignant to me that by a like tragedy I lost once the happiness of my life .. the life of my life .. the colour & fragrance of my soul. [4] But why write of these things?
They buried the poor darling baby in the sand. He was two years old. I keep foolishly thinking of his little velvet shoes which were made to be like Wiedeman’s. She was very averse to going—but I dare say it is all better so,—for the child was not a healthy child, & she was not a happy woman .. & mortification & care of all kinds seemed opening before her. It is better so, God knows. I can understand Mr Ogilvy’s feelings in the sudden loss you speak of– On such occasions the skeleton of life is bared suddenly to us, & we are thrilled to the heart. In respect to Sir Robert Peel I do not feel quite as you do—though over-praise in the burst of sympathy across a newly opened grave, is but a part of justice. Still, strictly speaking, he was not a giant, nor akin to the giants—only one of those practical men who work out the thoughts & catch the crowns of ideal men .. “verily have their reward”. [5] Did he ever see a truth before it was forced on him by circumstances rather than reasonings? Never, perhaps. It is however a noble enough commendation, that he did not sacrifice the good of his country, (when once seen clearly) even to the preservation of his personal consistency; and for this thing, if not for another, we should all bless his memory. Meantime, dont let us confound glories—there will be a thousand Peels before there is a second Wordsworth. In a hundred years, who will speak of Peel?——
Gombo turned out expensive & uncomfortable, & we were on the verge of engaging a villa near Vallombrosa when I was taken ill. If I had been there without medical help, nothing but a miracle could have saved me—though Baby might have escaped the sun-stroke. Now, it is delightfully cool, & we were inclined to stay in Florence from motives of œconomy, when Dr H insisted on the necessity for me of change of air. So, our villa being taken from us, we go to Siena on saturday. We are more than ever satisfied with Dr H’s skill & decision—& I must tell you that one morning he poured out to Robert the whole story, about his son, [6] which set the matter in a very different light. I will tell you in another letter. No room here. Tennyson married a woman “not pretty, nor particularly young nor likely to have influence over him” .. Not my phrase, observe! He was attached to her twelve years ago, then the engagement was broken off. God bless you both & all. I lose hope of seeing your sister, as she does not come till september & we go on the first.
Your ever affectionate
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Robert’s love goes with mine to Mr Ogilvy & yourself. Wiedeman has another double tooth– Now he has eleven teeth. He is most imperious—he stamps with his little foot on the floor!
Write to Siena. Poste Restante.
Address, on integral page: À Madame / Madme Ogilvy / Hotel Respoli / Sorrento / Napoli.
Publication: EBB-EAHO, pp. 21–26.
Manuscript: Eton College Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. “Drawing room.”
3. “Shy,” or “ashamed.”
4. Her brother Edward.
5. Cf. Matthew 6:2.
6. Augustus James Harding (d. 1871, aged 60). He is described as a “portrait painter” in a notice to surrender at the Bankrupts’ Court, London, on 21 April 1863 (The Times, 8 April 1863, p. 7). For “the whole story,” see letter 2886.
___________________
