2928. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 73–78.
Paris.
Thursday [Postmark: 10 July 1851]
Our letters crossed the other day, my beloved Arabel. Robert took mine to the post & brought back yours. So provoked I am that I did not answer your repeated question about Mr Kenyon. No, indeed—you are quite misinformed: he never asked us. In fact, on a re-examination of his kind letter of long ago, he did not invite us even for next year—he only said that he hoped we might come near him for a part of the summer of 1852. Recollect, we have a child; & I dare say dear Mr Kenyon would as soon think of inviting a dragon as a child, into either of his luxurious houses.
For the rest you may trust us. If we can get to England we shall certainly go– I should have been delighted if you had found out any way of meeting elsewhere than London, because Robert’s family wd set off instantly & join us here, so that there is no need of considering them, .. but as you cant move, we must of course, when there’s a possibility, & we may go sooner than you fancy. So dont vex yourself about us, my own dearest Arabel, & rely on our doing what we can. As to the taking of apartments, we have taken none yet, & it is still in discussion how we are to manage. Thank dear Minny for her kind & welcome note & advice,—only our luggage is not heavy enough to make it necessary, tell her, to take a room. If we were rich enough I should certainly wish to take an apartment at once for nine months, not minding the double payment, .. because the fact of being settled, & having a home ready here, would be pleasanter to poor Robert, I know– You cant imagine how he lets his imagination buffet & torment him in the small uncertainties of life. I always say that he ought to have five thousand a year—and really he ought,—to meet the exigencies of his nature. He says that he is anxious for me & not for him—but of what consequence is it, whom, one is anxious for, when the anxiety is perfectly unnecessary? You ought to hear me scold sometimes: it is edifying.
I think we might have quite sufficiently good, indeed very pretty rooms here, for thirty shillings a week—but the apartment at two pounds being perfect, Robert hankers after, & we still consider about. Remember, we have only looked at houses in the very best situations & on first floors .. whereas Tom Butler’s family (all heiress as his wife is) lives at the very top of a house .. as he told me the other day .. yesterday .. in desiring me not to fatigue myself by attempting to call. Oh—people in Paris think nothing of living up in the clouds. But Robert will have a first floor for me, he says, lest I should be tired—whereas I could manage very well with a second or third, as I assure him .. but nothing is decided yet. Understand .. the price they ask us is to take us through the season .. for nine months. Two pounds a week is very moderate .. yet it is a good deal for us to keep on giving, for so long.
I went to see uncle Hedley, Arabel. Robert & I went down on Monday evening at eight & found him at his hotel. He is somewhat greyer & thinner, but looked infinitely better than I expected, after what I had heard of his increased illness some time ago– Very affectionate he was to me, & a great pleasure was it to me to look into his face again. The next morning he called upon us & brought Tom Butler—and I liked Tom Butler extremely, & was gratified by the cordiality & warmth of his manner. It appears that he comes backward & forward to “visit” his wife. There’s one of the felicitous money-marriages!
We had told Wiedeman that “uno zio” [1] was coming to see him, & he was to have on his red sash and to be ready with a “bacio” & “abbrac[c]iamento.” [2] Charmed he was at the thought of “lo zio”. “Lo zio” seemed like an approach to that mystical “la zia” whom he talks about incessantly, .. who is to buy him, he says, “a trumpet, a violin, and a piano-forte,” and who is to give him wine to drink when he can get none otherwise in England. I believe his idea of “la zia” is of a Madonna in glory, or at least of an angel with a pair of wings & a nimbus. Certain it is that he was dreadfully disappointed when “lo zio” appeared under so earthly an aspect. He went out of the room directly to Wilson, shaking his head .. “Lo zio … no, no ..” in a most melancholy state of disillusion. Wilson said, “Come! Lo zio non ti piace?” [3] “No, no, no”, said he. It was something different from what he had expected. Yet he was very good, & held up his arms for the “abbrac[c]iamento”, & showed Tom Butler the last drawing of a serpent which Robert had made for him.
Whenever he sees either of us writing a letter, or receiving one, it must be, he says, to or from “la zia”. Whenever he is good, he bids us write to “la zia” to tell her. Whenever he is naughty, we exclaim, “What will la zia say when she knows”, and the effect is prodigious. After that sixteen hours night & day work in Lombardy, he woke up at seven in the morning very thirsty: he is always used to have milk to drink when he wakes, & we had not even a drop of water for him, poor darling—& the sun & dust of Italy driving through the blindless windows of the diligence! We were all suffering dreadfully from thirst & heat—no wonder, Wiedeman did. For a whole hour & a half, his idèe fixe was to have something to drink—and we kept him from bursting out into a roar, only by talking of “la zia,” & how if he did’nt cry I would write a letter to her to say how good he was. So he kept his quivering lips from the cry that was ready on them, though his little face grew crimson– Still, at last nature could bear no more—& he was on the very verge of roaring out, when to our surprise the diligence stopped; we had arrived. As Wilson carried him out at the door he turned his face over her shoulder, & said to me significantly, “La zia”! He had’nt cried, after all.
I left your little note for uncle Hedley at the hotel, that he might have it immediately on his arrival, .. with a word from myself to say that I would be there at eight. He told me, when I went, that he had directly written about the governorship, but seemed to think there was small hope of Surtees’ obtaining such a situation, [4] which wd scarcely be given, he thought, but to somebody of a good deal of experience & of well-known antecedents. Also, he thought, that, even if attainable, it would be an unpleasant sort of situation, .. “very unpleasant for Henrietta”. Still, five hundred a year, one cant call unpleasant exactly,—& they are right of course in trying, & I wish with all my soul, that it may not be trying only.
So the Guardian has attacked “Casa Guidi”! [5] No wonder– The curious thing is, what you may not be aware, that the selfsame Guardian praised me to the skies last spring (two or three months ago) in a long & elaborate article [6] which fell into my hands accidentally at Florence .. said that I had “a glorious career before me” .. things of that sort, .. & that I was’nt weak like women in general .. things of that sort. Said moreover, that I “made idols of Carlyle, & of my husband” (a curious literary criticism) & was “a good deal influenced by both those writers”, … & though I had something of their “irreverence” “in touching on religious matters, yet I avoided the flagrant sins of them. In fact, I was naturally devout, though the critic could see plainly that I was very ignorant, & had’nt right views at all on ecclesiastical affairs & doctrines. Only, probably I had never heard the truth .. & how could I be blamed therefore for not speaking it?” Oh, I assure you, my Guardian took me graciously under his protection, & talked about “splendid genius” & the rest. I write to you what he said, as far as I can remember it; & I read it at the beginning of our journey, on the road, as it was stuffed into my basket, by the goodnature of Mr Latilla the artist; so that I remember a good deal. But Guardians prove faithless, it appears, and I am a ward betrayed. Now, why should’nt I have the benefit of my “ignorance” as before? Why, should I be expected to speak the truth (which I never heard) today more than yesterday? “I pause
<…> [7]
a compliment & took the first that occurred to him. <He said too that it seemed fabulous “to see me in Paris with my eldest son!”.> [8]
But he spoke of Papa .. I did not like the way in which he spoke of Papa– I lay awake half the next night thinking of it. He said he seemed quite well but did not look as well as he used, & that he had spent “a very bad winter”, .. “with a most distressing cough”—so Papa told him, he said. Tell me the truth, Arabel– Does Papa look ill? Is he less strong, do you think? Mind you do not neglect to answer these questions.
I never thought, Arabel, of concealing from him our intention of being in England. Why, it would have been wrong .. would’nt it? I have told him everything about us in all my letters. It was right,
<…>
to Wiedeman– But no– That, he would not. Only it was right to leave it in his choice. Also, I should not like him to hear from others that we were in England, & he to have heard no breath of it from me. I dont think it necessary to tell him at the time, “we are here” .. or “there” .. because it might interfere with our meeting. Yet, could he have the heart .. after five years nearly .. to hinder you from seeing me? I cant think so.
My idea is to write & tell him of our being in Paris & meaning at some uncertain time to pay a short visit to England– No more than that.
I have written to Miss Mitford. She would stay in that damp house last winter, & has fallen into a state of health which makes me uncomfortable to hear of– Nothing could be more unfortunately absurd surely than to stay on in a house which nearly killed her the year before– And here’s the end.
It was an adventure, indeed,—that about the thief! So Lizzy, dear Lizzy is with you– [9] My love to her, mind! I shall see presently whether or not she remembers me.
Mr Hunter leaves Ramsgate for good! [10] But where then does he go? Do tell me everything you know of him & Mary. Does she write to you ever?
Wiedeman grows fat. Wilson says she can almost see him grow fat, it is so evident. His appetite grows magnificent. He runs about the Tuileries Gardens; he leaps, & dances, & watches the swans. Also he has seen a balloon! That child sees everything. He says he wont go back to “Firenze”, till “domani” [11] .. but he will go to England, because of “la zia”. By the bye dear Minny calls him “Master Wiedeman”– Tell her he never was called Master Wiedeman in his life before, & that for Minny to begin, was too bad. If ever she does such a thing again!! She must love him & call him Wiedeman. It will do her good to go into the country I hope, for she seems to be very lame—poor dear Minny! how much she suffers! Sarianna wrote to propose coming next week with her father—but we wont suffer it.
It is very kind—but we shall go if we can, any how– And if I go, how shall I see Henrietta. Mind you write. I shall write to Henrietta directly. See what notes I write! We are close to you, observe.
Love your own
Ba.
My true loves & many a kiss to my ever dear Trippy– Love too to all who care for me.
I hear that the ‘Spectator’, who abused the two volumes, makes amends in praising the new poem– [12] Not that I have seen it– What I least like in Paris is that they wont let Flush go out in the streets without being muzzled.!! what a shame.
Address: Angleterre / Care of Miss Tripsack / (Miss Barrett) / 26 Welbeck Street / Cavendish Square / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, I, 397–402.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. “An uncle.”
2. “Kiss & embrace.”
3. “What! Don’t you like uncle?”
4. Surtees Cook hoped to become the Keeper of Wilton Gaol, a salaried office elected by the Somersetshire magistrates. Wilton is a suburb of Taunton.
5. In the 11 June 1851 issue; see letter 2926, note 10.
6. A review of Poems (1850) appeared in The Guardian for 22 January 1851 (pp. 55–56). After complaining of the lack of power in women’s poetry, the reviewer declared: “Mrs. Browning, however, is amongst the few in whom, certainly, we have not to remark the want of the great quality of power.” In speaking of EBB as a “religious lady,” the reviewer noted: “Religious, our readers must remember, after her own kind, which is not exactly our kind … Mr. Carlyle, Mr. Tennyson, and her husband, Mr. Browning, are her intellectual idols.” For the full text of this review, see vol. 16, pp. 332–336.
7. Bottom quarter of the sheet, approximately five lines on each side, has been excised, affecting text here and below.
8. Bracketed sentence was squeezed in as an afterthought. “He” refers to EBB’s uncle Robert Hedley.
9. Lizzie Barrett spent her summer holiday with her cousins at 50 Wimpole Street; she returned to boarding school at the beginning of Michaelmas term.
10. The Congregational Year Book for 1855 notes that George Barrett Hunter left Ramsgate for Beer, Devonshire, in 1854, not 1851.
11. “Tomorrow.”
12. The review of Casa Guidi Windows in The Spectator for 28 June 1851 (pp. 616–617) begins: “We concluded a review of Mrs. Browning’s collected poems, not many months ago, with a hope which scarcely rose above a wish, that she might live to work herself free of carelessness and affectation … We gladly acknowledge Casa Guidi Windows to be a step, nay a stride, in the right direction.” For the full text of this review, see pp. 320–322. The earlier notice, of Poems (1850), had appeared in the 25 January 1851 issue (pp. 85–86). For the full text, see vol. 16, pp. 340–342.
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