2977. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 169–174.
138 Avenue des Ch. Elysées.
Nov. 18– [1851] [1]
My ever dearest Arabel, I answer quickly your letter, lest you should take up Bummy’s doctrine as a real thing. I dont pretend to say how it may be with others,—but I, for myself, know perfectly that instead of loving you less, dearest beloved Arabel, I love you more than ever I did. I dont take my love for Robert & Wiedeman out of my old love for you, but out of my heart which has grown larger for the new growth– Surely I have said that to you before– So never, never fancy that silence means want of love on my part—it shall mean want of life rather– May God bless you my own very dear sister—my very precious Arabel.
And was I really so long in writing? For one thing, the letter lay aside two days after it was written, through an oversight. Well, I shall try to behave better for the future. Only mind you write to me faithfully, or I am capable of taking revenges.
I hesitated for a moment whether to write to you or George this morning, but as Robert wants to write with me & is very busy just now, I put off George & take up you. He wrote me the kindest of letters the other day, & I was delighted to have it. Robert was interrupted in Shelley by the arrival of his father & sister, & could not touch it while they were here, as, all day long, of course, he was walking & driving about with them. Think of me, not being able to go out once, through the whole nearly three weeks– There were fine enough days, but too cold for me, & I had to sit at home by the fire as if there were no visitors– Nothing could exceed their affectionateness to me, I must tell you– Mr Browning said again & again that he loved me dearly, “just like his own child,” & that he would far rather stay with me than go out sight-seeing– Sarianna too was very affectionate. She is excellent .. full of tact & good sense—clever & loveable together—easily pleased & of an even spirit & temper. The mourning had disappeared– [2] They were both so satisfied with Paris & so delighted to be with Robert & Baby, (we must put motives in their right places) that their plan is at present (should no unforeseen obstacle arise) to settle here in March when they leave New Cross. What do you think of that scheme? Mr Browning must of course leave the Bank, & at his age it is time. [3] We talk of taking two unfurnished apartments in the same house .. so as to be near each other, & yet to be unshackled by one another, with separate establishments in every way. Robert told them that he did not bind himself at all—he might even go to Italy for a year .. he would certainly travel about as he had the means & inclination: so this is understood. For some forty pounds a year each, we can have our own house, each of us, & the taxes are nought … scarcely perceptible they are so small. M. Emile Forgues says “je vous les guarantis” [4] .. meaning two apartments, one on the first floor & one on the entresol, at that rate of cheapness. Then furniture is very cheap here. Well—I only talk of plans & dreams—they are dependent upon facts of course. It has been & is (while we plan & dream) extremely cold—only people swear to us that the weather is “exceptional”, and we have letters from Italy talking of falling thermometers & even falling snow, so that it is probably a general evil just now. Also, the Martins left the London thermometers below zero—we are better off than certain of our neighbours. The Martins stayed a few days in Paris, & everyday came to us– It was a very great pleasure to me. Mr Martin looks to my eyes entirely unchanged—if anything, a little fatter than when I saw him last, six years ago: & most kind they both were—& they were pleased with Robert, Mrs Martin told me, which of course pleased me. She said that, now she had seen him, she could understand everything I had spoken concerning him. One morning she came in a broad sunshine & took me out with her in the carriage, a close carriage, for half an hour, & it did me no harm, though Robert was in terrible consternation when he came in & found me gone out,—but the sun was hot, &, what with shawls & furs, I escaped the breathing of the air which was’nt hot by any means. We find these rooms very warmable .. yes, & warm, now that our “propriétaire” [5] has had rolls of stuffed cloth nailed round the windows & doors. We keep up immense fires—uncle Hedley upbraided our extravagance when he came here yesterday, & said he had’nt seen such a fire in Paris. I assure you, I am apt to singe your slippers at this fire. But I could do better without eating, than without warming myself, & cant consent to be œconomical in that department. The Hedleys are very kind in coming here. I must look again at Mary, but it did’nt certainly strike me when I saw her, that she was pretty—they are nice little girls, all three of them. Poor little Anna has been very ill with hysteria, but the medical man maintains that the complaint is at an end & that the late convulsive remains are controllable. Therefore he went to her on saturday & said that if she had another attack, he wd apply red hot irons to the soles of her feet!!!—in consequence of which threat, uncle Hedley told us yesterday that she had been well for three days–! That’s “homœpathic treatment,” Arabel! & dont think I shd like it for my child!–
Desirèe is an admirable cook, & otherwise a little, flighty, energetic, joyous, goodnatured creature, suiting us exactly so far. Her cooking is really superior—we have a new kind of soup every day of the week, made out of vegetables chiefly, but of such flavour & delicacy that scarcely you can believe it .. and her creams & cakes are fit for fairy-land. We pay her at the rate of only twelve pounds a year. She has taken Wiedeman into especial affection, & he, her,—“Jamais je n’ai vu un si drôle d’enfant”! [6] He mimics her ways of speaking, & goes into such fits of laughter when they two are talking together, that it’s really alarming. The consequence of all this intercourse is naturally that he is getting on with “his French” .. poor child!—& talks of an “apeau,” (chapeau) [7] & cries ‘voilá’ [8] at interjectory moments. Desirée declares that he understands every word she says to him in French– “Quel enfant, mon Dieu!” I overheard her telling somebody the other day .. “mais, voyez vous, cet enfant comprend bien le français: il parle trois langues.” [9] Which I could’nt help laughing at, because his speech in any one of the three languages is highly doubtful. Yet he tries at everything now, using all his materials in a mass, the Italian ore preponderating still. He has a song about “buono pretty van,” (swan) which is very characteristic .. & he talks of “lapis vass,” (white) meaning “a white pencil” .. and “liss buttolo,” meaning “this zucchero” for sugar. In spite of which eccentricities, he makes himself understood better than the president of the republic does. When asked if he is English, he says “no, no—ah …h,”—(nasty!) & that he’s an iano .. (Italiano). There was some powdering of snow .. a few flakes falling .. the morning before last, & Robert asked him “who made the snow.” “Dio—” said he, pointing upwards—and then, in a tone of conviction .. “Dio, buono!” Then pausing as if in thought .. “E Flush, buono.”
Last night I said in my old way .. “Chi è il tesoro di Mamma?” [10] —[‘]‘Peninni” .. said he. But, correcting himself quickly, .. “no, Peninni! Peninni, no .. Dio!” (with his hand raised!)—“Dio, buono! Dio, eve ..” (neve)—(God made the snow–) For Peninni admires the snow excessively, you are to understand.
The goodness & sweetness of that child are indescribable—he is scarcely ever naughty for a moment now. I was saying to Robert this morning at breakfast that the naughtiest of his life was in London, when he went out to walk with Arabel & me, & always cried to be carried. “But he was a more little child then,” said Robert. “Less![”] interposed Wiedeman who had listened attentively—putting up his finger & thumb to show how very little he was .. & squeaking out “Mamma, mamma” in what he considers the infantine voice “par excellence”. I do wish you could see him—you would think him wonderfully improved, he is so much fatter & redder in the cheeks. He eats & sleeps like the strongest of children– Paris agrees with him incontestably, & so does even the French cooking,—which according to Wilson’s theory, is “too rich for a child a great deal.” She holds notwithstanding that she never knew him to be so well since he was born. Yes—his “nonno” doated upon him, while the nonno was here, and gave up all the fireside hours, to drawing ‘swans’ & ‘soldiers’ for him. Baby had at one time about thirteen foolscap sheets of paper full of swans, which he regularly took to bed with him. Sarianna insisted on taking him to a Daguer[re]otypist, (the best, as far as we could make out, in Paris) & was so generous as to have three portraits taken .. one on metal, and two on paper .. because I happened to say that I admired the last .. although they are more than doubly as expensive. After all, the one on the plate was so very beautiful & Robert liked it so, that she insisted on our keeping that. The two paper transcripts she has taken to England, and intends one of them for you, Arabel– There’s a secret betrayed– You will think it very pretty, certainly—but the child looks larger & older that [sic, for than] he is in reality (five or six years old) .. this, from no harshness in the shadows, for the face is as infantine as his own, but from the size & general effect– You will observe that he wears your red frock—though it is not coloured.
I had a note from Lady Elgin the other day to signify her fear that our absence on her mondays meant illness on my part, & that she should be very glad to come & spend an evening with us if I could’nt go out. I made Robert go for an hour to her last night, & he assured her of our being delighted to see her in the case of her caring to come. We think we shall be obliged to have “an evening” like other people, otherwise we shall be afraid of people coming in every evening, which is not comfortable. Morning visiting is not liked here by anybody:—and yet to have a crowd in this little room would’nt answer for either it or me. Oh—we must not know a crowd, Arabel—but it will be difficult, I dare say, to steer our course clearly & escape the muddy current. We like Madme Mohl extremely– Her husband is the Oriental professor of the Institute, & she herself, very clever & agreeable—knowing everybody worth knowing, in French society. I assure you Lady Elgin is much more liberal in the approvisionment of her mondays than Madme Mohl is—has she not bread & butter & even buns & sponge cake par occasion? [11] Perhaps what Bummy says, refers to English society in Paris, which, naturally retains its English character—but I think that among the French, in the ordinary way of the salons, you would find it to be much as I tell you. I have heard that even at the house of M. Thiers, the sole refreshment is tea. Mazzini has sent us a letter for George Sand .. addressed to Madme George Sand,—and she is to be in Paris in a week to get a play acted, [12] says Mdme Mohl, who is recon[n]oitreing for us– I will tell you everything as it happens. We had a visit yesterday from a Mr Fields, an American publisher,—(the publisher of Robert’s poems in Boston, in fact—) on his way to Italy. He told us a great deal about my poems also. Langley, [13] who printed my first edition, is not to blame for not keeping his agreement with me—he became bankrupt & gave up business– But the edition sold. A second edition was printed by Francis, & sold—and a third edition by Francis also, came out just before the last English one. [14] Mr Fields said that he wanted to bring out a new one on the English model, but Mr Francis remonstrated so emphatically against the injustice & cruelty of it, that he forbore .. observing however that he had intended to pay Mrs Browning as if she were an American author .. on which, said Francis .. “Whatever you will give her, I am ready to give her!” Very generous intentions on both sides; and between the two, I get nothing!—— To make the piracy complete, Francis siezes on the “Portuguese sonnets” & “Casa Guidi Windows,” while Fields gives a smile of sympathetic publisher-ship, from under the knitted brows of his disapproving moral sense–
He might have paid Robert at least, I think. Robert’s first edition is almost sold, & when Fields brings out another, he means to pay, he says– “The first edition is only an experiment, you see!” Yes, but as the experiment succeeds, I dont understand why the profits of it go exclusively to Mr Field’s pocket– That’s curious, I think.
Also, we have had a visit from Mr Longfellow, the brother of the poet, & said to be an accomplished man– [15] He is in Paris for the winter.
Also, we have the cannons planted on the faubourg—close to us. The storm is deafening, and we listen with deep interest & no fear– The President stands firmer than he ever did with the people. That seems certain enough, but nothing else, that I can see.
Wilson declares she “never shall know French,” but she stumbles on in some sort of way, as Desirée does’nt know a single word of English or Italian. Did I tell you that I had heard from Sophia Cottrell, & that she has a “magnificent boy” [16] at last? Very glad I am, indeed.
Oh no, Arabel– We shall not be dissipated in Paris. That’s not our way, you know– But we shall have more intercourse with our kind than in Florence, &, for the rest, live as simply as ever. I want Robert to have a few people to talk to—it is good for him, I am sure. You shall hear everything.
Dearest, dearest Arabel .. take care not to expose yourself to cold & wet. How can you justify before God & me, that staying out to sketch in a cold rain, for instance? I was very angry. I beseech you to take care. Kinnersley must be dull & cold, & I would not have you overstay your right time there. Oh—that you were here with me!—— You would not dislike our life here, for all the riotous gaiety you forsee in it– You might trust me that it would’nt be quite past bearing– I am certain you would be happy & free here. Oh, to have you!!– Poor uncle John & aunt clarke! [17] A miserable life indeed– And Bummy’s spirits, how are they? I cant help laughing at Leonard & his application
<…> [18]
<Ar>abel!– And she has a great deal of <…> too!”– Tell me exactly how you are, Arabel & how your face is: I am frightened of the cold for it. God bless you, my beloved!
Your own ever attached
Ba.
I don’t give up Henrietta yet.
Best love to Bummy.
Address: Angleterre / Miss Barrett / The Rectory / Kinnersley Castle / near Hereford.
Publication: EBB-AB, I, 425–431.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. For RB’s mother, who died on 18 March 1849.
3. RB’s father (aged 69) had held a clerical position in the Bank of England since 1803.
4. Sic, for “garantis”; “I guarantee them to you.”
5. “Landlord.”
6. “I have never seen such a funny child!”
7. “Hat.”
8. “Look!”
9. “What a child, my God!” … “but, you see, that child understands French well: he speaks three languages.”
10. “Who is Mama’s treasure?”
11. “On occasion.”
12. Le Mariage de Victorine, which opened at the Gymnase on 26 November 1851.
13. Henry G. Langley (b. 1819), of New York, was the publisher of The United States Magazine, and Democratic Review from 1841 to 1845.
14. Charles Stephen Francis (1805–87), founder of the New York publishing firm of C.S. Francis & Company, issued many pirated editions of EBB’s poetry throughout the 1850’s. Two such publications antedate this letter: the “Portuguese sonnets” edition, to which EBB refers below (see letter 2937, note 3), and the “third edition by Francis,” The Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning (New York and Boston, 1850). Although we have not traced the “second edition” mentioned by EBB, “two impressions” of the American edition of Poems (1844) are described by Warner Barnes in A Bibliography of Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Austin, Texas and Waco, Texas, 1967, pp. 34–35).
15. Samuel Longfellow (1819–92), a Unitarian minister and poet. In 1886 he co-authored, together with T.W. Higginson, a life of his brother, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–82).
16. Henry Edward Plantagenet Cottrell (1851–1938), born on 1 August, was the Cottrells’ third child and second son, the first, Carlo Ludovico, having died the year before.
17. i.e., John Altham Graham-Clarke and his wife Mary (née Parkinson) of Kinnersley Castle, who often suffered financial difficulties.
18. This letter continues on the flap, the throat, and the back of the envelope. The flap has been removed, resulting in the loss of approximately 25 to 30 words.
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